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seungminsbaldspot · 3 months ago

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Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: this is really fucking long, 9201

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Relationship Betrayal: Themes of infidelity and emotional betrayal, Reproductive Issues: Discussions about abortion and related emotional impact, Emotional Distress: Exploration of deep sadness, heartache, and loneliness, Loss and Separation: Themes of losing a family and feeling disconnected, Regret and Self-criticism: Characters expressing regret and self-blame, Conflict and Argument: Scenes involving intense emotional conflict and Feelings of Inadequacy: Characters grappling with their self-worth and personal place in the world.

Taglist: @fate-posts @zukki33 @nightfury @lethergy @wingoodlilboymyway @hxllhxund @stxrg3m @bigbobass @mimirockss

Spoiler: not all things have a good ending

Click here for the previous part, Part Four!

The moment you close your bedroom door, a thought strikes you with clarity: Diego deserves to know about Five’s lingering feelings for Lila. You nod to yourself — deciding to look for him.

As you pass by Diego and Lila’s room, you notice the door is ajar. Peeking inside, you see Lila sprawled across the bed, her legs swinging idly in a manner that seems almost childlike. You shake your head in frustration—Diego is nowhere in sight.

You continue downstairs, Maybe the living room?

You make your way through the house, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. As you approach the living room, you see Diego sitting on the couch, absently polishing his knives, a small smile playing on his lips. For a brief moment, you’re struck by how serene and focused he looks, a stark contrast to the pain swirling in your own heart.

You feel a pang of sympathy for him. After all, you're both caught in the fallout of each other’s spouses choices. It's as if you and Diego are unwitting allies in this mess, both grappling with the consequences of their actions.

Swallowing hard, you approach Diego. “Diego,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the weight of the revelation you’re about to share. He looks up, his expression shifting from calm to concerned as he takes in your serious demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asks, setting the knife down and straightening his posture.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I—I know we haven’t talked about what happened with... well, you know who,” you say, glancing around awkwardly.” But I would really like to. Like right now.”

His eyebrow quirks up in confusion, but he nods, rising from the couch. “Is the garden okay for this conversation?” he asks, gesturing toward the door. You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions you're both experiencing. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling around you both. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

As you step outside, the evening light casts a soft glow over the garden, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. You take a seat on a nearby bench, and Diego settles beside you, his posture tense but attentive.

“All right,” Diego says, looking at you with a mixture of anticipation and unease. “What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Five... he admitted to me that he still has feelings for Lila.” You pause, watching as Diego’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening.

“He said that?” Diego asks, his voice low and controlled, but you can sense the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Yes,” you reply quietly. “And I... I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking about ending things with him, but I wanted to talk to you first. I thought... maybe it would help someone in this mess. At least one of us.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “That little shit.” He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm him much; his fists are still balled at his sides. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things with him. I can’t believe you’ve put up with him for as long as you have.”

You offer a small shrug, feeling a mix of sadness and understanding. “I guess love makes you kind of stupid.” He goes quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. “Yeah...”

After a beat, he looks back at you, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to Lila,” he says. “See you around?”

You nod, watching him turn and walk away, his movements tense and purposeful. He’s trying to keep his composure, but it’s clear that anger is coursing through him, each step more forceful than the last.

You head back to your room, hoping Five is gone. After everything that’s happened, it would be awkward to find him still there. As you climb the stairs, your mind races. Today has been a whirlwind. You and Five almost fucked again. You found out he still has feelings for Lila, which makes all his apologies feel meaningless. Now, you’re seriously considering ending things with him.

Just as you reach your bedroom floor, you hear shouting echoing down the hallway. Your heart quickens, the knot in your stomach tightening. You strain to listen, trying to make out the voices. It’s unmistakably Diego, his tone sharp with anger. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s furious.

And then, another voice cuts through—Lila’s. She’s shouting back, her words a rapid fire of frustration and defense. Your breath catches. Shit. They must be arguing about Five. You creep closer, curiosity and dread warring inside you.

Then you hear another voice — Five’s.

“We thought it would be better to just say it’s yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. What the hell is he talking about? You press yourself against the wall, straining to hear more, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach.

“You lied about the baby? It’s not mine? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Diego yells.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, broken only by Lila’s frustrated sigh. “I didn’t lie,” she snaps back, her voice wavering between anger and defensiveness. “I just—”

“You just what?” Diego cuts her off, his tone dripping with betrayal. “You thought you’d trap me with a baby that wasn’t even mine?” Five’s voice comes through, low and controlled. “It wasn’t like that, Diego. We thought—”

But Diego’s anger flares hotter, his tone rising with each word. “I don’t give a shit what you thought!” he snaps. “This isn’t just my life you’re fucking with here —there’s a baby involved, and your wife’s life is on the line, too. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of Diego's words hanging heavy in the air. “Diego—please don’t tell her,” Five says, obviously referring to you. You slap your hand over your mouth, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief. Does he really think you’re that naive?

Diego groans in frustration. “I’m not a shady bitch,” he snaps. “You two are both fucking cheaters. You really are perfect for each other.” He turns to leave and, in doing so, catches sight of you. Your eyes widen in shock as you meet his gaze.

Diego chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Looks like nobody’s gonna need to tell her,” he says, pointing toward you. Five’s eyes slowly meet yours, his expression shifting from shock to a pained resignation. “Fuck...” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Diego walks past you, giving your shoulder a pat before continuing down the hallway. You gulp, watching him go. As you turn to face Five and Lila, the reality of the situation hits hard. Lila is partially undressed—her shirt off but her bra and shorts still on. It’s clear what they were up to before Diego’s interruption. The sight confirms what you’ve feared and felt all along.

Five steps toward you, his face a mask of anguish. “Listen, I—”

You cut him off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t fucking speak.” Your gaze locks onto Five, then shifts to Lila, your eyes narrowing with anger. You’re furious with them both. They were both married—how fucked up do they have to be in order to what to do this?

How fucked up are they in their heads, genuinely?

It’s been a few days since the confrontation, and the tension in the house has been palpable. Everything feels strained and fragile. You’ve spent this time preparing for the next steps, including arranging the divorce paperwork. Now, with the documents in hand, you’re feeling a mix of anxiety and resolve.

You take a deep breath and head to where Five is. He’s sitting alone, looking lost and distant. His posture is slumped, and he seems consumed by his thoughts.

“Five,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. He looks up, his expression a mix of apprehension and sorrow.

“I’ve arranged everything for the divorce,” you continue, holding out the papers. “I need you to sign these.”

Five’s eyes move to the papers, and you can see the conflict swirling within him. He takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I—I can’t sign these,” he says, his voice strained. “Not like this.”

You stare at him, frustration and hurt swirling inside you. “What do you mean you can’t sign them?” you ask, your voice tight. He sighs deeply, his gaze falling to the floor. “I’m not ready to lose you,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

You let out a bitter laugh. “I think you lost me the moment you decided to fuck Lila—and to top it off, get her knocked up.”

He sighs, his face a portrait of anguish. “I know I messed up. But can’t we at least try to talk this out?”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “I think we’re past talking, Five. You lied to me about the baby being Diego’s and gave me nothing but empty apologies.” Your tears start to spill over. “How could I ever trust you again?”

He reaches out to grab you, but you jerk away, your voice sharp and resolute. “I don’t want your filthy hands on me ever a-fucking-gain.” Taking a deep breath, you hold up the papers. “You can either sign them or not. It doesn’t matter. Only one of us has to want to end the marriage. It’s not like we have assets or anything.”

Five’s shoulders slump, the weight of your words visibly crushing him. He looks down at the papers, his expression a mixture of regret and resignation. “I see. So this is really happening,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

You stand firm, though your heart aches with the finality of the moment. “Yes, it is,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

He remains silent for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll sign them,” he says, his voice low and broken. He reaches for a pen and begins to sign, each stroke a painful reminder of what was lost. You watch him in silence, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, sadness, and relief. When he finishes, he slides the papers back to you, his gaze avoiding yours. You take them, feeling the finality of the act settle over you. “Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll take these to the lawyer.”

Five nods, not trusting himself to speak. As you turn to leave, you glance back one last time, your heart heavy with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. It's hard to think that the person standing before you was once the man you once loved so deeply. The reality that you had once been so intertwined with this person, now feels surreal.

As you're making your way back to your bedroom, you bump into Diego. He glances at the papers in your hands and raises an eyebrow. “You made it official, huh?” he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and empathy.

You nod, trying to keep your composure. “Yeah, Just gotta take them to the lawyer.” Diego pauses, then asks, “Who’s the lawyer you’re going to?”

You look at him curiously but provide the name. Diego nods thoughtfully. “Is he any good? I mean,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I’m, you know, looking for someone so Lila and I can separate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, yeah, he’s good. Really professional and straightforward.” Diego gives a relieved nod. “Yeah, guess I’ll pay him a visit soon. Thanks for the info.” He pats your shoulder lightly before heading off toward his room.

As Diego walks away, you head back to your own room, feeling the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The prospect of ending things with Five and the thought of Diego’s own separation weigh on your mind.

You settle into your room, seeking a moment of solitude. The silence around you is both soothing and suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. As you start packing your things, the task feels oddly cathartic, each item folded and placed into boxes representing a step toward closing this painful chapter of your life.

The process is slow and deliberate. You pick up a framed photograph from the nightstand, a snapshot of a happier time. The image of Five, with his easy smile and bright eyes, feels like a cruel reminder of what was once real. Is this really what’s best? you wonder, your heart aching as memories flood back. You question whether you’re making the right choice, feeling a pang of doubt.

You carefully fold a sweater, the fabric soft against your fingers. Maybe there’s a chance to fix this? You let the thought linger before shaking it away. The reality of Five’s betrayal, his affair with Lila, and the lies about the baby weigh heavily on you. How could you ever trust him again? The thought echoes through your mind, a painful but necessary reminder of why you’re doing this.

As you continue packing, you come across a small box of keepsakes—letters, trinkets from trips, and tokens of affection that once held so much meaning. Each item now feels like a relic of a past that no longer fits with your present reality. The sight of these mementos makes your chest tighten. Isn’t it sad how something that once meant so much can become a symbol of heartache? you think.

You pause to take a deep breath, your emotions a tumultuous mix of anger, sadness, and resignation. Five used to be someone you believed in, you remind yourself. He was full of promise, of dreams and plans. But those promises mean nothing now, shattered by his deceit and betrayal. The framed picture of him, still smiling, feels like a lie, a facade that crumbled the moment he chose to be with someone else.

No, you tell yourself firmly. Five is a liar and a cheater. He betrayed you in the worst possible way, and his apologies were nothing but empty words. You cannot ignore the evidence of his deceit, nor can you overlook the fact that he has continued to deceive, even in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

The weight of the decision presses down on you. You think about the life you’ve built together, the dreams you shared, and how those dreams have been tarnished. This is the right decision, you insist to yourself. It may be painful, but staying in this house, in this relationship, would only prolong the suffering. You deserve better than to be someone’s second choice, a pawn in their misguided plans.

You take one last look around the room, the space that once felt like a sanctuary now stripped of its comfort. With a final sigh, you continue packing.

It’s been a few days since Five signed the divorce papers. The act itself felt monumental at the time, like a heavy door slamming shut on a chapter of your life. Yet, in the days that followed, you’ve felt more like you’re in limbo than moving forward. You’ve spent hours packing up your belongings, folding memories into cardboard boxes, trying to make sense of what’s worth keeping and what needs to be left behind.

You aren’t sure if Five is aware that you’re planning to leave the Hargreeves residence for good. He’s been keeping his distance since that final conversation, but whether it’s out of respect or a desire to avoid confrontation, you can’t tell. Part of you wonders if he even notices your absence from shared spaces or if he’s too wrapped up in his own guilt and shame to care. The uncertainty gnaws at you, and you hate it. You hate that after everything, you still find yourself thinking about him—about what he’s thinking, feeling, and doing.

It’s a cruel irony, you think, as you pull another sweater from the closet and fold it neatly. Despite all the betrayal and heartache, you’re still haunted by thoughts of him. You catch yourself wondering if he’s regretting his choices, if he’s truly sorry, or if he’s already moved on. You try to push these thoughts away, focusing instead on the task at hand, but it’s difficult. They keep creeping back in, uninvited and unwanted, like a song stuck in your head that you can’t seem to shake.

You glance around the room, now half-empty, and feel a pang of sadness. This space, once filled with warmth and the echoes of shared laughter, now feels hollow. It’s strange how quickly things can change—how a place that felt like home can become just a room, stripped of its meaning and significance. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Focus on what’s next, you remind yourself. Not on what’s been lost.

Still, as you move through the house, collecting the last of your things, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Anger, sadness, frustration—all of them swirl inside you, a tempest that you’re struggling to keep contained. The thought of Five lingers at the back of your mind, a constant, nagging presence. Even now, after everything he’s done, you still find yourself wondering about him. It infuriates you.

Why do you still care what he thinks? Why does it still matter?

You want to be done with him, to close this chapter and move on with your life. But it’s not that simple. Love, even when tainted by betrayal, doesn’t just disappear overnight. It clings to you, lingers in the quiet moments, and makes itself known when you least expect it. You suppose that’s the hardest part—learning to let go, not just of the person, but of all the hopes and dreams that came with them.

As you fold the last of your clothes, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look tired, worn out. This whole ordeal has taken a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. You brush a stray hair from your face and take a deep breath. Your’e doing the right thing, You deserve better.

You finish packing the box and tape it shut with a resolute sigh. You step back, surveying the room one last time. It feels surreal to think that this is it—that after everything, you’re really leaving. You try to focus on the future, on the fresh start that awaits you, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Five.

What will he do when he sees you’re gone? Will he even care? The questions twist in your mind, and you feel a fresh wave of frustration wash over you. Why does it still matter? But deep down, you already know the answer.

Because you loved him. Because, despite everything, a part of you still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You can’t dwell on that now. You have to move forward, to think about what’s best for you. And staying here, in this house filled with ghosts, isn’t it.

Grabbing the last of your things, you head toward the door. As you step into the hallway, you pause, half-expecting to see Five coming around the corner, to hear his voice calling after you. But there’s nothing—just silence. And for the first time in days, you feel a small, fragile sense of relief. Maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe it’s the start of something new.

With a deep breath, you make your way down the stairs, each step feeling like a step toward a new chapter. You don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: it’s time to leave the past behind.

You make your way to the front door, a heavy box in your hands. Each step feels more final than the last, the weight of the moment sinking in. You’ve rented a moving van that’s parked out front, its back door open and ready to receive the remnants of a life you’re leaving behind. You’ve found a small, cheap, but nice apartment across town—a place to start over. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for what you need — an escape.

As you reach the door, you see Diego standing nearby. He catches sight of you struggling with the box and quickly steps forward, pulling the door open for you. “Thanks,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady, though it’s clear he can see the exhaustion and sadness etched on your face.

He nods, his expression softening with understanding. “You got any other boxes?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s a warmth in it—a kindness that you’ve come to appreciate over the past few days.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah, a few more in the living room,” you reply, shifting the box in your arms slightly. “I’ve been packing them up. This is the last of the stuff from upstairs.”

Diego takes the box from you effortlessly, holding it with ease. “I’ll help you carry them out,” he offers. “No sense in doing this alone.”

You give him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Diego,” you say, feeling a bit of the weight on your shoulders lift—not just from the box, but from the gesture itself. He’s been a surprising source of comfort through all of this. Despite his own heartbreak, he’s been there for you, offering support without asking for anything in return.

Together, you walk back into the living room, where a few more boxes are stacked against the wall. Diego sets the box he’s carrying down and looks around. “You’re really leaving, huh?” he says, more as an observation than a question.

“Yeah,” you answer, a hint of sadness in your voice. “I think it’s for the best. Staying here… it’s just too hard.” Diego nods, understanding. “I get it,” he says softly. “Sometimes, you just need to get away from the place that hurt you, start fresh somewhere new.”

You glance at him, seeing the shared pain in his eyes. He’s been going through his own struggles, dealing with Lila’s betrayal and the fallout from it. You feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him—like you’re both navigating the same storm, even if in different boats.

He grabs another box, hefting it easily. “You know,” he begins, his tone thoughtful, “if you ever need anything… if you ever want to talk or, I don’t know, just get away from all this for a bit… I’m here.”

His words are sincere, and you feel a warmth in your chest. “Thank you, Diego,” you say again, your voice softer this time. “I really appreciate that.” He nods, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “No problem. We’ve got to stick together, right?”

You nod back, a faint smile tugging at your lips. It’s a small comfort, knowing that even in the midst of all this chaos, there’s someone who understands—someone who’s willing to help you through it.

Together, you and Diego carry the rest of the boxes out to the van. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm, golden light over everything. It almost feels like the world is giving you a gentle nudge forward, encouraging you to keep going.

As you load the last box into the van, you turn to Diego. “I guess this is it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though there’s a hint of emotion in it.

Diego nods, looking at you with a mixture of empathy and encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he replies. “But remember, it’s not the end. It’s just… a new beginning.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “A new beginning,” you repeat softly, nodding. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He gives you a reassuring nod, then steps back, allowing you to close the van’s door. As you turn to leave, he raises a hand in a casual salute. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You too, Diego,” you say. “You too.”

With that, you climb into the driver’s seat of the van. You take one last look at the Hargreeves residence—the place that has been your home, your prison, your battlefield. Then, with a deep breath, you start the engine and drive away, leaving the past behind as you head toward whatever comes next.

You've settled nicely into your new apartment. The place is small but cozy, with just enough room for the few belongings you took with you. It’s quiet, too—so much quieter than you’re used to. The silence, however, kills you.

At the Hargreeves residence, there was always noise, always something happening to keep your mind from wandering. Whether it was Klaus losing his mind over something as simple as misplacing a bottle of booze, or Allison laughing with Luther over some inside joke. There was Viktor playing the violin in the early mornings, his melodies filling the house with a kind of soft serenity. Even Diego and Lila’s constant bickering had its own comforting rhythm—a mix of arguing and laughing that made the place feel alive. But now, in your new place, there’s none of that. Just silence. Heavy, all-encompassing silence.

And then, of course, there’s Five.

God, you miss him.

It hits you like a punch to the gut every time you think about it. You miss the way he would storm into a room, all sharp edges and quick wit, filling the space with his presence. The way his brow would furrow in concentration when he was deep in thought or working on one of his plans. The way his eyes would soften when he looked at you in those rare, unguarded moments when he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

You miss the sound of his voice, that low, smooth timbre that could shift from calm calculation to biting sarcasm in an instant. You miss the warmth of his touch, the way his hand would linger on your back, reassuring and steadying you. Even now, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, the way it sent shivers down your spine.

You hate how much you miss him. How, despite everything he’s done, every lie he’s told, every betrayal you’ve suffered, you still find yourself longing for him. You hate the way your heart aches whenever you think of him, a dull, persistent throb that refuses to go away.

It’s like there’s a part of you that can’t let go, no matter how hard you try. A part of you that still clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different. That maybe he could have chosen you, could have been honest with you, could have loved you the way you loved him.

But he didn’t.

And now, here you are, alone in this quiet apartment, with nothing but your thoughts and memories to keep you company.

You try to distract yourself, to fill the silence with noise. You turn on the TV, but it feels hollow and meaningless. You play some music, but it only reminds you of the songs you used to listen to with Five, the ones you danced to in the kitchen late at night, laughing and spinning around like you didn’t have a care in the world.

You try reading, but your mind keeps wandering back to him, to the way things used to be. To the life you thought you were building together.

Eventually, you give up and let the silence wash over you. You let yourself feel the weight of it, the emptiness that stretches out around you. You let yourself feel the pain, the loneliness, the heartache.

Because maybe that’s the only way you’ll ever be able to move on.

Maybe you just have to let yourself feel it all, let yourself grieve for what was and what could have been. Let yourself mourn the loss of a love that wasn’t meant to be.

And maybe, one day, the silence won’t feel so heavy. Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.

But for now, you just sit there, alone in your quiet apartment, and let yourself miss him.

God, you miss him.

You think about what could have been if Five hadn’t cheated.

It’s a thought that creeps up on you more often than you’d like to admit, slipping into your mind in the quiet moments when you’re alone with your thoughts. What if he hadn’t betrayed you? What if he hadn’t gone back to Lila, hadn’t lied to you about it, hadn’t gotten her pregnant?

You close your eyes and let yourself imagine it for a moment—a different reality, one where things didn’t fall apart. Where you and Five are still together, still living in the Hargreeves mansion with all its chaos and noise. You imagine waking up next to him, his arm draped lazily over you, his face soft and peaceful in sleep. You’d watch him for a few moments, taking in the sight of him before he stirs awake, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

In this imagined reality, there’s no tension, no betrayal hanging between you. There’s only the love you felt for each other, warm and comforting like a blanket. You’d start your days together, sharing quiet mornings with cups of coffee and stolen kisses. Maybe you’d argue about something silly—Five always did have a way of getting under your skin with his stubbornness—but it would be the kind of argument that ends in laughter, in making up and teasing touches.

You’d work together on whatever problems or missions came up, a seamless team. Five would still be his intense, driven self, always planning, always strategizing, but there would be moments of softness, too. Moments where he’d let his guard down just for you, where he’d let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

Maybe you’d go out sometimes, just the two of you. You’d walk through the city, hand in hand, sharing stories and secrets, feeling like the only two people in the world. And at night, you’d come home to the mansion, to the noise and the chaos, but it wouldn’t matter. Because you’d have each other.

You’d have a future together—a real future. One where you could imagine growing old with him, seeing the lines of age etch into his face, his hair going a little grayer, his body maybe slowing down a bit. But through it all, you’d still be by his side. Still his partner, his confidante, his love.

And maybe, just maybe, there would be a family. Not like the Hargreeves siblings—a real family, a small one, made up of just the two of you and maybe a child or two. You can almost see it: a little boy with Five’s intense eyes or a girl with your smile, running through the halls of the mansion, bringing a different kind of noise to the place. You and Five would watch them grow, teach them, protect them, love them with everything you had.

But then reality crashes back in, shattering the fragile dream.

Because that’s all it is—a dream. A fantasy of what could have been, what might have been if Five had made different choices. If he hadn’t cheated, hadn’t lied, hadn’t chosen Lila over you.

Your heart aches with the loss of it, with the realization that the life you’re imagining was never real and never could be. You think about the way Five used to look at you, the way he held you like you were his whole world. You remember the promises he made, the plans you made together.

And then you remember the betrayal. The lies. The nights you spent alone, wondering where he was, what he was doing. The sick feeling in your stomach when you found out about Lila, the way your world crumbled around you when you realized he’d been lying to you all along.

The dream fades, replaced by the stark reality of your new life. Alone in your quiet apartment, far away from the noise and the chaos of the Hargreeves mansion, far away from Five and all the pain he caused.

Maybe it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Better to be alone than to be with someone who could hurt you so deeply, who could betray you so completely.

But still, you can’t help but wonder. What if?

What if he hadn’t cheated?

What if he’d chosen you?

What if things could have been different?

You know you can’t change the past. You can’t go back and rewrite history, no matter how much you wish you could. But the thought lingers, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, a reminder of what might have been.

And as much as you hate it, as much as you want to move on and leave it all behind, you know it’s going to take time. Time to heal, time to forget, time to let go of the what-ifs and the could-have-beens.

You sigh, feeling the weight of it all settle over you once more. You turn on the TV again, hoping for a distraction, but your mind keeps drifting back to him, to what you had, to what you’ve lost.

Maybe one day, you’ll be able to let go of the past and move on. Maybe one day, you’ll stop wondering what if.

But today isn’t that day.

Today, you still think about him. About what could have been. About the life you could have had together.

And you can’t help but miss him.

God, you miss him.

You sigh, the sound echoing softly in the silence of your new apartment. You glance around, taking in the sparse, unfamiliar surroundings. It’s not much, but it’s yours. The walls are bare, the furniture minimal—just the essentials. It still smells faintly of fresh paint and new beginnings, but there’s an emptiness to it that you can’t quite shake. The quiet is suffocating, a stark contrast to the constant noise and chaos of the Hargreeves mansion.

You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. What’s he up to now? The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it. You hate that you’re still thinking about him, still wondering about him. But the truth is, you can’t help it. Five has been a part of your life for so long that it feels strange not to know where he is, what he’s doing. The absence of his presence is a void that you can’t seem to fill.

You imagine him back at the mansion, surrounded by the remnants of a life you once shared. Is he in his room, sitting in that old leather chair, sipping on whiskey and poring over some ancient book? Is he pacing the halls, his mind racing with plans and calculations, always thinking, always moving? Or is he in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee, his expression pensive as he stares out the window, lost in thought?

Maybe he’s with Lila. The thought makes your stomach twist. You can almost picture it: the two of them together, their heads close as they whisper and scheme. Maybe they’re arguing, as they often did, their voices raised, filled with that strange blend of love and hate that seemed to define their relationship. Or maybe they’re...you can’t even bring yourself to think about it. The idea is too painful, too raw.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you tell yourself firmly. He’s not your concern anymore. He made his choice. And you made yours. You chose to leave, to start over, to try and build a new life without him. But even as you tell yourself this, you can’t help but feel the ache of longing, the pull of what once was.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you too. If he regrets what happened. If he misses you. A part of you hopes he does—that he’s feeling even a fraction of the pain you’re feeling. But another part of you knows that it doesn’t change anything. Regret won’t undo the betrayal. Missing you won’t mend the trust that’s been broken.

You rise from the couch and move to the window, looking out over the city. It’s a gray day, the sky heavy with clouds. The world outside feels distant, almost dreamlike, as if it’s moving on without you. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

What is he doing right now? The question hangs in the air, unanswered. You imagine picking up the phone, dialing his number, hearing his voice on the other end. But you know that’s not an option. Not anymore. You’ve made your choice, and he’s made his. There’s no going back.

Still, the curiosity nags at you, the wondering. It’s a hard habit to break, the urge to know, to be connected. For so long, your life was intertwined with his, your days and nights filled with him. It’s strange to think of a future without that, without him.

You turn away from the window, forcing yourself to move, to do something. Anything to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind. You start unpacking a box, pulling out books and setting them on the shelf, trying to focus on the mundane task in front of you. But your mind keeps drifting back to him, to the life you had, to the life you could have had.

Is he thinking about me? you wonder again. Does he miss me? You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts away. You know you need to let go, to stop wondering, to stop caring. But it’s easier said than done.

You pause, holding a book in your hands, staring at it without really seeing it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It’s time to move on, you remind yourself. Time to focus on your own life, on your own future.

You haven’t heard from any of the Hargreeves since you left. The silence is heavy, a constant reminder of the void that has opened up in your life. They were the closest thing to a family you had, a group of misfits who somehow fit together. Now, without them, you feel unmoored, drifting in a sea of uncertainty.

Your thoughts turn to the commission—your former employer, and in some twisted way, another kind of family. That was a lifetime ago. You left that world behind, hoping for something better, something more. But now, standing alone in your small, empty apartment, you wonder if you made the right choice.

The reality of your situation sinks in. You don’t have a family outside of the Hargreeves. You were pulled into their orbit by Five, drawn into their chaotic world, and in a way, you found a place there. But now, you’re adrift again, and the loneliness is almost suffocating.

Your actual family, the one you were born into, is most likely not even in this timeline. The thought makes your chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sadness. You don’t even know where they are or if they’re alive. Time travel has its costs, and the disconnection from your roots is one of them. Even if you wanted to find them, there’s no way to do it without the commission’s help. And after everything that’s happened, going back there is the last thing you want.

You rub your temples, feeling a headache starting to form. The isolation is starting to wear on you. You’ve tried to fill your days with work, with unpacking, with anything that might distract you from the gnawing emptiness. But no matter what you do, the thoughts creep back in.

What would it be like to switch timelines? you wonder. To find a world where things turned out differently, where you and Five never crossed paths, or where he never cheated, and you lived out the life you once imagined together. But those thoughts are just fantasies, just as unreachable as the timeline they belong to. Without the commission’s technology, there’s no way to hop between realities.

Even if there was, you know it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Time and space are fragile, and messing with them comes with consequences. You’ve seen firsthand the damage that can be done by playing with the fabric of reality. And besides, running away to another timeline wouldn’t change what happened here. It wouldn’t heal the hurt or mend the trust that’s been broken.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You feel more alone than you ever have, even more than when you first joined the commission, or when you first found yourself thrust into the chaos of the Hargreeves’ world. At least then, you had something to hold onto. Now, you feel like you’re grasping at air.

You sigh, “I need some air.”

You stand up, the heaviness in your chest making it difficult to breathe. The walls of your apartment feel like they’re closing in on you, the silence suffocating. The emptiness is overwhelming. You need to get out, to clear your head, to find some way to make sense of the mess your life has become.

Grabbing your coat from the hook by the door, you slip it on and head outside. The afternoon sun is high in the sky, casting warm rays that offer a sharp contrast to the cold, stagnant atmosphere of your apartment. The city streets are alive with activity—people bustling about, cars honking, vendors calling out to passersby. The noise feels overwhelming, but also oddly comforting. It reminds you that life goes on, even when yours feels like it’s standing still.

You start walking, not really sure where you’re going, just needing to move, to escape the thoughts that have been plaguing you. Your footsteps blend into the hum of the city, lost among the chatter and footsteps of others. You walk past busy storefronts and colorful cafes, the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee filling the air. You pull your coat tighter around you, though the air is mild. The weight of your thoughts is what brings the chill.

What am I doing? you think to yourself. You feel a surge of frustration bubbling up inside you. How did I end up here?

As you wander, you find yourself heading towards a familiar place—the park where you used to go with Five. It was a favorite spot, a place where you’d both sit and talk for hours, sharing dreams and plans, back when the future felt certain. The memories are bittersweet now, but some part of you feels drawn to it, as if it holds some answers you can’t quite reach.

You reach the park and make your way to a bench near the fountain, one you remember sitting on many times before. The sound of the water trickling into the basin is calming, a soft, soothing melody amidst the noise of the city. You sit down, staring out at the small pond, watching the ducks glide across the surface, the sunlight glinting off the water.

The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the ground, and the park is filled with people—joggers, families, couples walking hand in hand. You watch them, feeling a strange mix of envy and detachment. They all seem so carefree, so unaware of the weight that you carry.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the moment. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something—someone—that makes your heart skip a beat. You turn your head slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

It’s Five.

He’s across the park, sitting at a small outdoor café, a cup of coffee in front of him. His head is down, focused on a book in his hands, his expression calm and absorbed. He looks different out here, in the daylight, without the familiar surroundings of the Hargreeves mansion. More relaxed, almost like the man you fell in love with. You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him, a mix of longing and hurt.

What is he doing here? Does he come here often?

You hesitate, torn between the urge to approach him and the instinct to turn and walk away. You know that seeing him will only reopen old wounds, but some part of you can’t help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to calm the racing of your heart.

He looks up from his book suddenly, as if sensing your presence, and his eyes meet yours across the park. For a moment, time seems to stand still. You can see the surprise in his eyes, the flicker of recognition, followed by something else—something softer, almost wistful.

You’re not sure what to do, whether to stay or go, whether to speak or remain silent. Your feet feel rooted to the ground, unable to move in either direction. Five raises his hand in a small, hesitant wave, his expression cautious, almost hopeful.

You swallow hard, your emotions a tangled mess. You don’t know what to say, what to do. You’ve imagined this moment so many times, and yet now that it’s here, you’re at a loss. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow bursts.

Finally, you take a step forward, then another, your movements slow and uncertain. Five’s eyes remain on you, watching your approach with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. You stop a few feet away from him, close enough to see the small details of his face—the faint lines of worry, the sadness in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you reply, your own voice trembling with emotion.

There’s a long pause, a silence that stretches out between you, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t know how. You can see the regret in his eyes, the apology he’s trying to convey without words.

“Do you…want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod slowly, pulling out the chair and sitting down. The distance between you feels both vast and intimate, a strange mix of familiarity and distance.

Five looks down at his hands, then back up at you, his expression pained. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admits. “I’ve been coming here a lot lately…thinking.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Part of you wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make him feel the hurt you’ve been carrying. But another part of you just wants to understand, to find some kind of closure.

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “Every day. I think about you, about us. About everything I’ve ruined.”

Your heart clenches at his words, his voice full of that quiet sincerity that used to melt your resolve. But now, all it does is stir the anger that’s been simmering beneath the surface since the day you found out. You want to believe him, but the wounds are still too fresh, the betrayal still too raw.

“Miss me?” you scoff, your voice rising, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You don’t get to miss me, Five. You lost that right when you decided to screw around with Lila. And what about your baby? You want to talk about what you’ve ruined? Look around. You did this. You chose this.”

Five's face contorts with pain, but he pushes through, his voice trembling. “Lila… she lied about the baby.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily stunned. The sharp edge of your anger is blunted by shock.

You shake your head in disbelief. “So the baby never existed? She lied?”

Five nods slowly, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. “Yes. There was no baby. She told me it was a lie to manipulate me, to keep me from leaving.”

He looks down, his face falling further. He takes a sip of his coffee, making a face at the taste. He was always very particular about his coffee, and clearly, this one didn't meet his standards.

You feel overwhelmed, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. “I—I don’t know what to say, Five.”

He shakes his head, a mixture of resignation and frustration in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he says softly. You sigh, your mind rushing, Should you even say this?

“If I’m being honest, I guess that I’ve missed you too.”

Five’s expression shifts, a flicker of hope and disbelief in his eyes. He seems to struggle with his emotions, clearly taken aback by your admission. For a moment, the tension between you both eases slightly, though the weight of everything that’s happened still lingers heavily.

“You’ve missed me?” Five asks, his voice barely audible. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your heart ache even more.

You shake your head, “Don’t let that get to your head. We were together for years. Of fucking course I missed your dumbass.”

Five’s face falls slightly, his vulnerability giving way to a trace of hurt. He opens his mouth to respond but seems to reconsider, his words catching in his throat. He simply nods, a resigned look settling over him.

You continue, trying to keep your tone steady despite the flood of emotions. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not about wanting to fix things or go back to how we were. It’s just… hard to completely erase what we had.”

Five’s eyes are focused on the swirling coffee in his cup, his fingers drumming on the mug. “I understand,” he says quietly, as if trying to make sense of everything himself. A heavy silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, your mind racing. Was coming over here a mistake? you wonder. The weight of the conversation feels overwhelming, and you start to question whether reopening this wound was the right choice.

Breaking the silence, Five sighs heavily. “She was kicked out of the house,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and sadness.

You look up, startled. “Lila was kicked out?” The shock is evident in your voice. You had imagined many possible scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them.

Five nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. After everything that happened… Diego couldn’t take it anymore. He asked her to leave.”

You pause, your mind racing. After a moment, you ask, “Do you not have feelings for her anymore?”

Five turns his gaze to the side, his face a mixture of frustration and regret. “I… I’m not sure. I fucked up, really fucking bad. I don’t think I deserve to feel any way about anything at this point.”

The honesty in his voice stings. You want to believe him, and you almost think you can see the sincerity in his eyes. But he’s lied to you before, What does this matter?

You sigh, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to become self-aware. It’s a start, at least.” You look at him, trying to gauge if there's any real change in him or if this is just another layer of his guilt.

Five shifts uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding yours. “I wish things could be different.”

“I do too,” you say, your voice soft as you look away.

The silence stretches out, filled with the weight of unspoken regrets and shattered dreams. You take a deep breath, fighting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I should go," you finally say, turning to leave.

Five nods, his face a mix of sorrow and resignation. As you walk away, you feel the sting of finality in every step. The distance between you grows, and with it, the painful realization that some wounds may never fully heal.

It really fucking sucks what Six Years, Five Months and Two days can do to a person.

Final Author's Notes: Starting off, I want to thank everyone for loving this fic. This fic was the first time I've really wrote angst -- and I had no idea that I would love writing it so much.

I had come up with the idea for this literally the day I posted part one -- but the ending was completely different. Reader was supposed to stay with Five and work things out, but after seeing how people reacted -- I decided to adapt and change some things. I really like how this ended, (UNLIKE THE SHOW)

and given that I will be writing a happy Five Fic / oneshot coming within the next few days bc season 4 was fucked up :P

#sbs posting #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves #five x lila #five x reader #tua five #tua s4 #tua season 4 #five hargreaves x reader #five x y/n #angst #hargreeves siblings #tua fandom #tua fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 #tua s4 spoilers #umbrella acedmy #the umbrella academy spoilers

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vampsywrites · 1 year ago

Text

lawnol a mì te’lan.

synopsis: after assisting lo'ak in meeting up with payakan, neteyam discovers your involvement and confronts both of you. emotions escalate, leading to neteyam lashing out on you and a fight breaking out between him and Lo'ak. however, he would soon come to regret this as a cruel twist of fate takes you away.

word count: 4.8k | author's note: i recommend listening to the songcord when the funeral scene comes up

tags: DEATH, ANGST, FEM! OMATICAYA READER, grieving, blood, gunshot wounds, sibling arguments, lo'ak and neteyam's tense situation, fighting, mentions of punching, funeral, established relationships, flashbacks, war

Syulang - Na'vi; Flower

The smell of incense wafted through the pod, mingling with the pungent scent of medicinal paste and herbs. The room was dimly lit, filled with a hushed tension that seemed to permeate the air. Tucked in the far corner of the room, you were busy patching Lo'ak up, applying a cool creamy paste onto his battered body.

As you began to soothe a bruise on his arm, Neteyam stormed into the room, frustration evident on his face. His steps pounded against the woven floors, sending a trickle of fear up your spine.

"What were you thinking Lo'ak? Meeting up with that killer tulkun, again!" He hisses, roughly pushing at his younger brother's head. "Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

"Neteyam," you soothed, moving to stand before him, "Your brother is actually seriously injured. Can we please have this conversation another time?"

"My brother wouldn't be injured if he didn't go past the reefs again. My brother wouldn't be injured if you didn't help him sneak out," Neteyam seethed, towering over you as his golden eyes burned with a blend of anger and disappointment.

Under his intense gaze, you curled into yourself, ears pinning back. You knew what you did was wrong, but you had never seen Lo'ak connect so deeply with someone before.

"Payakan is Lo'ak's spirit brother," you hushed softly, arms and tail wrapping around yourself as you tried to explain yourself to Neteyam, "Outcast or not…They are spirit brothers, Neteyam."

Neteyam clicked his tongue and threw his head back in frustration. Your name then escaped his lips, laced with cold disdain, "I would have expected this from him, but I never imagined you would actively go out of your way to assist him. You were trained to be Tsahìk, and I trusted you to act responsibly."

He took a moment to breathe, his pause magnifying the weight of the situation. "I couldn't be more wrong."

The walls of the room seemed to close in, suffocating you, as his words pierced your heart. Shame washed over you, causing your body to tremble as you grappled with your emotions.

"Neteyam, I…" you tried to speak up once more, but your mouth ran dry, throat shutting close.

"I…I'm sorry, sir," you force out, voice quivering.

Lo'ak's gaze intensifies, and a surge of protective rage surges through him. He swiftly moves to your defense, shoving Neteyam away, a low hiss rumbling from his chest. "Y/N did what she thought was right. We're all responsible for our own actions. Don't you dare lay this shit on her for something I did."

Neteyam's lips were pulled back into a snarl as he pushed Lo'ak back, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Responsible for our own actions? That's rich coming from you considering how much you just love to start shit."

Lo'ak growled before he moved to grapple Neteyam, forcefully pinning the older boy against the pod's walls. The impact caused the wall to shake, knocking a few bottles of herbs from the shelves, which tumbled and clattered onto the woven floors.

"Lo'ak—!" you gasped out seeing the boy draw his hand back, knocking his fist into Neteyam's face.

Neteyam staggered backward, colliding with the wall, as the force of the blow resounded with a heavy thunk. Momentarily dazed, he blinked and glanced up at Lo'ak, his hand instinctively reaching to his throbbing jaw.

“You skxáwng,” he growls.

"Yep. That’s me," Lo'ak quipped, his grin transforming into a menacing sneer. "Your disappointment of a brother. The fucking outcast of the family here."

Neteyam scoffs, wrenching himself off the wall, stomping forward until he was in front of Lo'ak. "What was the one thing dad asked for? Not to cause any trouble, right?" Neteyam huffs. "I'm just looking out for you! We are brothers, Lo'ak. Sully's stick together"

Lo'ak bares his teeth then, a growl ripping from his throat.

"You are not my brother."

Before you could process it, Neteyam's knuckles, flesh and bone, connected hard with Lo'ak's nose. The sound of the impact echoed through the pod, a sharp crack that filled the air. Your eyes widened as you watched Lo'ak reel backward, his body colliding forcefully with a wooden pane. The sudden eruption of violence from the normally composed Neteyam shattered the silence that had settled in the pod.

Lo'ak's snarl shifted into a pained grimace as he clutched his nose, blood streaming between his fingers. The pod fell into an eerie stillness, the air heavy with tension.

You stepped forward, a mix of fear and concern driving you. "Stop! This won't solve anything," you implored, reaching out to Lo'ak with a gentle touch.

Neteyam watched as you fretted over his younger brother, a burning mix of guilt and resentment bubbling up in his gut.

Lo'ak stared up at Neteyam, his anger wavering, replaced by a mixture of hurt and disbelief. His eyes searched desperately for a hint of remorse, a glimmer of understanding. But the older boy just stood there, his jaw clenched.

Shaking his head in frustration, Neteyam turned towards the chamber's entrance. His gaze lingered on Lo'ak, expression hardened with resolve.

"No flying or diving for a month," he declared, his voice carrying a note of finality.

With that, he strode out of the room, leaving behind a tense silence.

Lo'ak clicked his tongue before turning to you, concern etched on his face. He sent a cautious look your way, his voice filled with compassion. "You alright? That was rough back there. His words, I mean."

You mustered a watery smile, trying to brush off the events that just transpired.

"You're the one injured here, I should be asking you that. Plus, I'm used to it," you replied, your voice tinged with the slightest hint of amusement. Lo'ak attempted to speak up once more, but you swiftly redirected the conversation, your hands already reaching for the healing paste.

"Come, let's fix you up."

The recent days had become a harrowing blur, with a sense of impending doom hanging heavily in the air. Throughout the village, warriors hastily armed themselves, and healers busied themselves with gathering herbs, all while a dark storm loomed ominously above.

It was undeniable—the sky demons had returned.

In the midst of the mounting turmoil, you found yourself travelling through the waters with your friends, following Lo'ak after he abruptly plunged into the depths of the ocean, navigating past the reefs with his ilu.

The salty air clung to your senses as you leaned forward, desperation lacing your voice.

"Lo'ak! Where are you going?!" you cried out, tightly grasping Neteyam's waist as you both pursued him on the back of an ilu.

Lo'ak remained eerily silent, his focus fixated on the abyssal strength of the wavves before him. With an alarming agility, Lo'ak dove down, the sleek figure of his ilu slicing through the water with ease. Gripped by fear and worry, you turned to your beloved, seeking solace and answers.

"Nete—" you began, but your words were swallowed by Neteyam's grim interruption.

"He's going after Payakan," Neteyam replied curtly, his teeth clenched. Gripping your thigh tight, he positioned himself with a firm hold on the ilu's saddle. "Hold on tightly."

With a commanding click, Neteyam directed the ilu to dive down, plunging deeper into the unknown depths.

Then, as you emerged from the depths, you found yourself in the middle of the battle. Crashes of boats and metal birds floating all about you.

As you surveyed the battlefieds, you froze, heart sinking at the sight of Lo'ak perched atop a familiar tulkun, desperately attempting to remove the tracking device cruelly embedded in Payakan's flesh.

Without a second thought, you propelled yourself forward, driven by a surge of adrenaline, disregarding Neteyam's frantic shouts as you rushed to aid Lo'ak in freeing his spirit brother.

The others, recognizing the gravity of the situation, quickly rallied to your aid. Hands reached out, working in unison, as you all grappled with the device, pulling, tugging, and knocking against it in a desperate attempt to break its grip.

"Pull!"

Each moment felt like an eternity but with a final surge of combined effort, the tracking device relinquished its hold, tearing free from the tulkun's skin. A collective breath escaped your lips, mingling with the creature's relieved exhalation.

However, any semblance of relief quickly dissipated when Jake's voice pierced through Neteyam's communication device.

"Boy? Are you there?" Jake's voice quivered with anxiety, instantly sending a shiver of panic down your spine. The sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach intensified as you strained to listen to every word exchanged.

Neteyam swallowed, his throat constricting, before he mustered the courage to respond, "Yeah. I'm here, sir. What's wrong?"

The tense silence hung heavy in the air as you all held your breath, anticipating Jake's next words.

"Is your mate there?" Jake's voice crackled with urgency, the weight of his inquiry sinking into your bones, evoking a gnawing sense of apprehension.

Neteyam hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting yours, before he replied, his voice tinged with unease, "Yes. Yes, she is here—"

Before he could finish, Jake interrupted, his tone laden with concern, "There's been a report that a female na'vi was spotted on the docks of the boat. Are your sisters there?"

The weight of those words hit you like a thunderbolt.

"Shit," you cursed under your breath, running a hand through your braids.

"No, sir. Both Tuk and Kiri are not here," Neteyam replied, his voice laden with dismay.

Jake's voice crackled through the communication device once again, the urgency palpable in his words. "Stay vigilant, Neteyam. We can't afford any risks."

Neteyam nodded, his expression grim and resolute. "Understood, sir. We'll stay on high alert."

As the connection ended, Neteyam immediately began to issue orders, his voice firm and commanding.

"Ao'nung, take Roxto and Tsireya away from here. The open waters are too dangerous. We'll regroup by the rock outcrops," Neteyam directed, his tone brooking no argument.

The metkaniyan nodded, a stony frown etched on his face as he hurriedly ushered his sister and friend away from the immediate vicinity, their ilus awaiting them nearby. Neteyam watched them depart, his gaze lingering for a moment, before he turned his attention back to you and Lo'ak.

"That means you two as well."

"No, Neteyam, no," you protested vehemently. The mere thought of leaving him alone in the face of the approaching war was unbearable to you. "I am not leaving you."

Your plea hung in the air, thick with emotion. It made Neteyam take a moment to pause before he reached for you. An arm curled around your waist as he pulled you close, pressing a searing kiss against your lips.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he drew back, his brows furrowed as anguish swam around his sharp eyes. His gaze shifted to Lo'ak, a silent understanding passing between them. Neteyam's voice was strained but resolute as he addressed his brother, "Go. Now."

The weight of his decision lingered in the air, and you pleaded desperately, your voice wavering, "Neteyam…"

But his mind was made up. Casting one final, heart-wrenching look back at you, he rushed away, vanishing into the crashing waves.

Frantically, you turned to Lo'ak, and it only took one look for you to know that he shared your thoughts.

"We're going after him," he declared, his voice echoing your own desire.

Without wasting another moment, you set off, running towards the crashing waves, adrenaline surging through your veins.

The open waters beckoned, their depths mocking with unseen perils, but you refused to be deterred. The clicks of your ilu's came close and you both made haste, clambering atop the creatures as you dived towards the boat.

By the time you had arrived, half of the vessel was already submerged in the water, and you and Lo'ak quickly scaled its metallic walls, scrambling across the deck.

As you scanned the surroundings, your gaze locked onto three familiar figures at the edge. Kiri is the first to meet your eye and she starts shouting for you to take cover.

The echoes of gunshots reverberated through the air, jolting you into immediate action. You and Lo'ak swiftly slid down towards the figures, engaging in a fierce struggle as you pushed aside soldiers in your path.

Lo'ak managed to snatch a gun along the way, arming himself for the impending confrontation.

"Y/N!" Tuk called out for you as you ran to their position.

Reacting swiftly, you scooped the young girl into your protective embrace, shielding her from the bloodshed unfolding around you. Meanwhile, Lo'ak urgently guided Kiri to safety behind a nearby wall, ensuring she was out of harm's way and sheltered from the relentless barrage of bullets.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Neteyam retrieved the gun from Lo'ak, his movements experienced. He positioned himself around the corner, using it as cover, and unleashed a volley of return fire at your assailants.

"Y/N! Move them out!" Neteyam's cry echoes through the chaos, his voice strained as a bullet narrowly misses his skull.

"Yes, sir!" Reacting swiftly, your instincts kick in without hesitation. Grasping Tuk's hand tightly, you forcefully propel her forward alongside Lo'ak and Kiri, sprinting towards safety.

A sudden prickling sensation on the back of your neck momentarily distracts you, but the rush of adrenaline surging through your veins pushes it aside.

Neteyam, ever vigilant, stays close behind, providing cover fire to protect you all as you navigate through the perilous terrain. With every beat of your heart echoing in your chest, you reach the edge and, without pausing to think, leap over the railing, plunging into the water below.

As the shock of hitting the water subsides, you gasp for air, determined to stay afloat. Despite the biting cold and the sharp tremors running through your body, you maintain a firm grip on Tuk's hand, ensuring she resurfaces beside you.

That was when you realized something was wrong.

The hollers and war-cries of your friends echo in the distance but all you could focus on was the searing hot pain burning up on your neck. The wild waves toss and rock your aching body, carrying you further away from the safety of the group.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Tuk questioned, immediately taking notice of how pale your face had gotten. The girl paddled closer to you, a shrill scream ripping out of her throat once she saw the murky red waters around you.

The others reacted with alarm, rushing over to you. Choking and gasping for air, you felt your head sink beneath the waves, saltwater filling your lungs.

Fortunately, before you could drown, a pair of strong arms encircled your middle, pulling you up from the depths. As you were turned around, you found yourself face to face with Neteyam, his expression panicked while his mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words as he took in your pale face.

"Syulang—" he began, his voice choked with urgency.

"Bro! What are you waiting for? Get her on!" Lo'ak's voice interrupted, snapping Neteyam out of his trance. His gaze shifted to Lo'ak and Kiri as they guided an ilu towards you. He hastily moved to lift you atop the saddles, before clambering up to sit behind you. After making tsahelyu, he instructed the creature to move, making sure to swim above the waters due to your injury.

Heaving, you felt blood seep from your mouth as you curled onto Neteyam's chest. His normally steady heartbeat was frantic, a panicked endless thrum that seemed to almost blend into one. His lips were pressed tight against your temple as his fervent prayers seeped against your burning skin.

"Stray strong. I need you to stay strong," Neteyam's voiced hushed.

In the distance, he spotted a rocky outcrop where his parents stood, urgently waving them over. Lo'ak followed closely behind, his voice trembling as he called out to them. "Dad! Mom! It's Y/N!"

Working together, both Lo'ak and Neteyam carefully lifted your body onto the rocky stump, surrounded by Neteyam's family. Your breaths now came in short, labored heaves, your chest rising and falling rapidly as it struggled to draw in enough oxygen.

Jake stepped forward, his hands pressing against your shoulders as he gently rolled you over to examine your wound. A sinking dread settled in his chest as he saw the gaping exit wound at the base of your nape.

Neteyam stood by his father's side, his hands trembling with panic. "Sir? What's wrong?"

"Pressure. Put pressure," Jake's voice came out monotonous which sent a strike of fear through Neteyam. Immediately, the boy did as told, his large hands pressing onto your frail neck. Your eyes darted frantically across the faces gathered around you, wild and unfocused, until they finally settled shakily on Neteyam.

"Sir, I—" you gasped, more blood slipping from your lips as you inadvertently bit down on your tongue in pain. Neteyam quickly hushed you, his frown deepening at the militaristic term you had used. "Sir, I'm sor—"

Then, the pain began to dull and a sense of impending finality washed over you. Heaving, you allowed yourself to lower your façade of strength and embrace your vulnerability in what could be your last moments. With a trembling hand, you reached up and pressed it against Neteyam's cheek, tears welling in your eyes as you took in the sharp features of his face.

"I'm scared," you winced, feeling small and lost, like a frightened child. "Ma'Neteyam… I am so scared."

Grief and anguish filled Neteyam's expression as he reached for your hand, pressing his lips gently upon it.

"I know, syulang. I know. I'm sorry," he murmured, a pool of guilt building up in his stomach as he recalled his last conversation with you and Lo'ak. "You'll be alright, okay? You have a strong heart."

As he looked into your wide, fearful eyes, Neteyam felt a surge of emotions wash over him, carrying him back to the vivid memories of your childhood.

The scenes played out in his mind like a reel of nostalgia, as if he were standing once again among the towering, thick trees of Omaticaya. He could almost hear the laughter that had filled the air as you both explored the wonders of the forest together, the exhilaration of climbing the sturdy branches, and the shared secrets whispered under the shelter of rocky caves.

"Neteyam… I'm scared," you whimpered, your heart throbbing in your chest as you felt the coarse texture of the sturdy tree trunk pressing against your back.

Both of you were out playing in the forests and had lost track of time. It was way past eclipse now.

The dense forest was sprawled out before you, engulfing everything before you in an ominous shroud. The fading light of the setting sun cast elongated, eerie shadows that danced amidst the towering trees.

A young Neteyam stood in front of you, his hands gently cupping your tear-streaked cheeks, tenderly wiping away the droplets. Then, the warrior boy radiated a warm smile at you. "I'll keep you safe, syulang."

The air resonated with unsettling growls and haunting howls. Amidst the gloom, pairs of luminous eyes glimmered from hidden crevices behind the trees, concealed beasts lying in wait. Though fear still lingered within you, you summoned the courage to step into his awaiting embrace, seeking solace and security in his arms.

"Do you promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I promise."

"I'll keep you safe, syulang," Neteyam hushed, his voice filled with desperation, as he leaned in to press a kiss against your cracked and bloodied lips. The taste of iron flooded his mouth, but the concern for your well-being eclipsed any discomfort he felt.

Drawing closer, his forehead gently touched yours, causing his tears to mingle with yours as they cascaded onto your cheek. "I promise."

Neteyam's trembling fingers delicately brushed against your neck, seeking the faint and weakening pulse that throbbed beneath your clammy skin. Your breathing, labored and high-pitched, struggled to utter his name, "Neteyam—"

"Nete...I," Then, in an agonizing moment, your eyes dulled, your body going limp as you gasped out your last breath. Neteyam froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he withdrew from you, his movements graceless. "Syulang?"

"Neteyam… I," Lo'ak croaked out, his voice laden with guilt as he moved closer, attempting to offer comfort to his brother. "I'm sorr—"

His well-intentioned gesture was abruptly met with a forceful push, as Neteyam's frantic state escalated. Disregarding the presence of the others, he gathered your lifeless body into his trembling arms, holding you close as he began to hyperventilate. "No, no, no, no—"

Lo'ak stood motionless, his gaze fixed upon the devastating scene unfolding before him. Blood stained the younger brother's hands, a haunting reminder of his involvement, the guilt and remorse etched deep within him. Kiri pressed herself against his side, offering what little solace she could.

Tears streamed down Neteyam's face in an unrelenting wave as he shook vehemently, his grip on your lifeless form tight. Every breath he managed to take came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with profound anguish as his quivering lips whispered a fervent prayer to Eywa.

"Great Mother, I beg of you, please don't take her away from me. It's not her time. Please, I can't bear to lose her," the words tore from his throat, strained and desperate, a raw and hoarse plea echoing through the air.

But the silence that followed was deafening, and the universe remained indifferent to his anguished pleas. Fate had dealt her cruel hand and there was no reversing what has happened. A despondent hush settled upon Neteyam as he cradled your cold body, his fingers trembling as he traced the contours of your face, desperately clinging to your fading warmth.

'All energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back.'

These were the words that had been etched into Neteyam's consciousness since his earliest memories, told to him when he was a mere babe. Through the years, those words had taken root in his heart, their significance growing with each passing day. They held a bittersweet reminder of the transient nature of a Na'vi's existence, an understanding that all things, no matter how great or powerful, would eventually fade away.

And now, as he stood amidst the darkest hour of his life, pushing a leaf which cradled your lifeless body along the gentle waves, the weight of his mother's words pressed upon him with a poignant intensity. They whispered to him the solemn truth of loss, the inevitable fate that even the brightest and most vibrant blooms would eventually wither away.

Far off by the shores, the Metkayina clan were gathered together to honor your death. Soft songs were sun by artisans in the distance while warriors surrounded the waters, ready to assist your grieving mate in anyway.

The ebb and flow of the waves embraced your body, as Neteyam delicately allowed you to be immersed in the water. Neytiri and Jake moved to swim towards him, their concern evident in their eyes, but he shook his head, a silent request for solitude as he embarked on the final journey with you alone.

Silently nodding, they swam away and watched from a distance, their hearts heavy with grief for their son as Neteyam held you close, whispering words of love onto your cold lips.

Taking you into his arms once more, Neteyam took a deep breath, and with a graceful dive, immersed himself into the depths of the ocean.

In this underwater sanctuary, time seemed to stand still as he held his breath, allowing the weight of his emotions to wash over him. The silence enveloped him, broken only by the gentle lullaby of the underwater currents. His tears, blending seamlessly with the surrounding currents, were carried away into the vast expanse of the sea.

With a heavy heart, Neteyam loosened his grip, letting you go and releasing you into the gentle caress of the water. As your curled up form sank slowly towards the ocean bed, soft hues of blue and green cradled you in their hold, painting the scene with a poignant melancholy, as if the ocean itself mourned your passing.

A soft glow of bioluminescent algae adorned the waters, casting a mesmerizing luminescence upon the solemn setting. Each flickering glow, like a delicate farewell kiss.

Neteyam watched on as the golden tendrils engulfed you in its shimmering embrace. Then, finally, glowing like a chorus of tiny stars, the algae weaved their radiant tendrils around you, a final act of nature as Eywa took you in.

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayo,

Srrìri tìreyä,

Ma Eywa, ma Eywa.

Neteyam swam before the tree of ancestors, his heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and sorrow. His hands grasped onto his queue tightly, feeling the sacred bond beneath his battle-hardened palms. Just beside him, Tsireya floated along the deep waves with a heaviness in her gaze, her eyes downcast as she shakily signed to him, her hands trembling with emotion, 'Are you ready?'

Both of them had embarked on this solemn journey together, a quest to connect with the Metkaniyan spirit tree, seeking solace from your spirit and Eywa herself.

Neteyam had requested Tsireya's presence, knowing the sisterly bond that had blossomed between the two of you over the months. He understood that she, too, carried the weight of grief for your loss.

He nodded, a bit more frantic than he'd like. Tsireya smiled at his eagerness, her eyes shimmering with shared anticipation, her hands signing once more, 'Is there a specific memory you'd like to see?'

Neteyam paused, his mind drifting through the vast ocean of memories that he held of you, each one precious and poignant.

A minute passes, and finally, with a gentle nod, he signed his answer.

Neteyam found himself standing amidst the lush foliage of the Hometree, bathed in the soft glow of the sun. The vibrant colors of the forest danced around him, creating a tranquil backdrop for his restless heart. With each purposeful step, he moved stealthily through the forest. And then, his eyes locked onto a familiar sight—a burrowed cave where you often retreated to immerse yourself in craftwork.

His heart quickened with anticipation as he approached, his hand reaching for the necklace that hung around his neck, feeling the smooth beads under his fingertips. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he unclasped it and dropped it to the ground.

The remnants of this memory came rushing back, the echoes of your shared past resurfacing with vivid clarity. As he drew nearer, your teenage form seemed to flicker and shift, transforming before his eyes into your adult self. The passage of time etched upon your face, mirroring the weight and wisdom you accumulated over the years.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked, a magnetic force pulling Neteyam closer to you. Emotions swelled within him, a blend of joy, sorrow, and a deep yearning to bridge the gap that separated you both.

"Hey," he smiled tearfully, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability, "What are you doing, syulang?"

Your face lit up, a radiant smile gracing your lips as you gestured for him to come closer.

"I just finished weaving something. It's for you," you exclaimed, your excitement palpable. "Come, let me put it on."

Neteyam eagerly obeyed, lowering himself before you, allowing you to clasp the necklace around his neck.

"My mighty warrior, it suits you," you remarked, your voice filled with warmth as you beheld the necklace settled atop his chest.

Neteyam huffed out a bittersweet laugh as tears streamed down his cheeks. "It does."

Concern then etched across your face.

"Ma'Teyam," you murmured softly, your touch soothing as you gently ran your hands through his braids. Neteyam's tears continued to flow, an outpouring of emotions that spoke volumes of his love and longing. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side.

"Why do you cry, Nete?"

"I'm just…" Neteyam took a moment to steady his breath, his voice a tender reflection of his inner turmoil. A mixture of joy and sorrow lingered in his words. "I'm happy to see you."

Your laughter, a melodic and breathless symphony, filled the forest with its warmth. It wrapped around Neteyam's heart, offering a fleeting respite from the weight of your loss.

"Oh," you replied, your voice tinged with affection, "I am happy to see you too, Nete."

Tsireya stood from afar, allowing Neteyam to meet you in spirit alone. She watched over him as his form drifted, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

Her heart then swelled with warmth as she witnessed his lips curve into a genuine grin, seeing his once stern expression melt away into a state of serene contentment.

Lawnol a mì te’lan.

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littlefireball · 4 months ago

Text

ᴄꜱ|ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴏꜰ ᴇx-ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ (ᴍ)

ᴇx-ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɪᴅᴏʟ ꜱᴀɴ x ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ꜱᴇᴍɪ-ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.3ᴋ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱᴀɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɢʀᴀᴅᴜᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ, ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ʜɪꜱ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ. ɴᴏ, ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

After parting ways with San, you poured your heart and soul into your work, using it as a means to distract yourself from the pain of the breakup. There were no betrayals, no major arguments—just a gradual fading of his feelings for you, leaving you feeling empty and lost. Despite your efforts to salvage the relationship, all you received in the end was a simple "I'm sorry," a phrase that cut deeper than any knife.

Acting had always been your escape, a way to channel your emotions into something productive, and today was no different. You and the main lead, Yujin, stood face to face with a smile. Today’s scenes were all explicit and intimate. But your relationship was pretty good, so it won’t be too embarrassing. “Fighting!” He said softly, clenching a fist . “You too” You replied with a small smile.

“Ok…action!”

“Come back to me, please,” Yujin stepped forward and leaned dangerously close, you could even feel his breath fall on your skin. “But…your family…” “I don’t care.” Cupping your face with his big hands, he gave you a deep kiss.

Both of your breaths became rapidly because of heavy panting, mixed with faint moans and shy sucking sounds. You gradually retreated as he moved forward and stopped as your back pressed against the cold wall.

“Misoo…” You moaned out his name as he sucked hard on your neck, tilting your head to give him more access. Yujin picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, walking to the sofa before putting you down.

“Mine," He climbed over you and settled himself between your thighs, lifting your chin and claiming your mouth into a hungry kiss. Memories of being with San suddenly flooded your mind, making tears well up in your eyes. But you immediately shook it off and got back to acting. This kissing scene was so long that you and him almost got lost in it.

“Ok, cut!!” Your lips parted as the director’s voice rang in your ears. “Good take! Take a rest.” As you sat alone in your dressing room, the echoes of the intense scene still lingering in your mind, you couldn't help but feel a wave of emotions crashing over you. The facade of strength you had put on for the camera melted away, leaving you vulnerable and raw.

The memories of San haunted you like a ghost, his smile, his touch, his voice...they all played on a loop in your mind, tormenting you with what once was and what could have been. You tried to push them away, bury them deep down, but they clawed their way back to the surface, refusing to be ignored.

A knock on the door startled you out of your reverie. "Come in," you called out, trying to compose yourself before facing whoever was on the other side. The door creaked open, revealing Yujin standing there, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. You forced a smile, nodding slightly. "I'm fine, just...lost in thought, I guess."

Yujin came closer, sitting beside you on the dressing table. "I can see that it's been tough for you lately. Breakups are never easy, especially when it's so sudden and unexpected." His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded heart, offering comfort in a sea of turmoil.

“Maybe will you have dinner with me? If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m around.” He asked, his face was as red as a tomato, making you chuckle at his shyness.

“Yah, sure.”

—---

The TV series quickly gained popularity, especially due to the intimate scenes between you and Yujin that sparked heated discussions among netizens, fueling rumors of a real-life romance. Fans meticulously analyzed every interaction, every glance, searching for confirmation of their suspicions.

Struggling to adapt to life without you, San found the ache of your breakup hadn't dulled with time. Memories of your shared laughter, your whispered confessions, your secret meetings after work, where you sought solace in his arms, late-night phone calls during his travels abroad and the warmth of your embrace haunted him, refusing to fade with time.

The breaking point came at an awards ceremony. As a performance guest, San sat in the dressing room waiting for his stage. Your presence on screen captivated him, leaving him unusually quiet.

“What? I’m okay, guys. We broke up.” Yes, you two broke up but San found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the screen, captivated by your every smile, every gesture. The rest of ATEEZ could only look at each other but nobody spoke.

When the award for Best Couple was announced, and it was awarded to you and Yujin, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. San felt a sharp pang of jealousy and bitterness when he laid on both of you, full of happiness. But why? Didn’t he have any feelings for you anymore? Or did he not realize that he still likes you?

“Err, maybe we…” Wooyoung attempted to change the subject but San suddenly stood up and left the room. “I go to toilet,”

“Just leave him alone,” Seonghwa shook his head as wooyoung tried to catch him up. “He would be fine.”

Unable to ignore the turmoil in his heart, San reached out to you, his fingers trembling as he typed out a message. "Can we have a talk?" He stared at the screen to wait for your reply. Usually, you would reply to him within seconds. “The ceremony is not over yet, she won’t reply to me now…” He comforted himself, trying hard to hide his uneasiness.

But, even if the ceremony had ended for more than an hour, his message was still unread. He kept checking his phone to see if you were online. No. You weren't even online before the ceremony.

"Hello?" The ringing phone brought San back to reality, 'Seonghwa hyung' flashing on the screen. "San, where are you? We have to go to an after-party," Seonghwa said urgently. "I'm on my way," San replied, hanging up before slipping the phone back into his pocket. With a heavy heart, he made his way towards the after-party, preparing himself for the inevitable encounter with you and Yujin.

As he approached, he saw you standing alone by the bar, a look of vulnerability in your eyes that mirrored his own. "Hey," San said, surprising you. "Hey," you replied softly, forcing a smile.

"Hmm…Congratulations," San stammered, unsure of what to say. "Thanks," you responded, taking a sip of your wine, feeling uneasy in his presence. Didn’t you want him to talk to you? Why did you feel so heartbroken when you should be happy?

"Hmm…Where's Yujin?" San asked, trying to make conversation. "I don't know. He's not my boyfriend," you clarified. San's face lit up with a hidden smile.

"Oh, I thought you two were dating, with all the news..." You felt a pang of disappointment as you realized he might only be talking to you because you had a new boyfriend.

"Hey, are you San, right?" Yujin approached, waving his hand. San's smile faded, but he greeted Yujin politely. "Nice to meet you."

"Y/n’s acting was amazing, wasn't it?" Yujin complimented, leaning in close to you. San watched, a hint of jealousy in his eyes.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling torn between the two men. San contemplated taking you away from Yujin, but he held back, unsure of his own feelings.

“Your acting was good, too” “Oh, thanks. So, is it the reason why our fans always match us as a couple?” Yujin said provocatively, making you almost squirt.

“*Cough* Yeah, we still have something to talk about, PRIVATELY. Excuse me.” Without a second thought, San took your hand in his and pulled you towards the room without people.

“Wait, wait, San.” Your struggle was completely in vain. “Hey, you…!” He pressed you against the door, leaning so close that your lips touched as he spoke. As San's lips brushed against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through your body. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty. The air between you crackled with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the room.

"Y/n, I... I can't stand seeing you with Yujin," San whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I thought I could ignore it, but no, I can't. It breaks my heart when I see you with him."

"San, I... I..." you started, but he gently placed a finger on your lips, silencing you.

"I don't want to pressure you, Y/n. But I had to tell you how I feel. I can't pretend anymore," San confessed, his hand trembling slightly against the door.

In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. The pieces of the puzzle that had been scattered for so long suddenly clicked together. You reached out, cupping San's face in your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"I've always loved you, San." you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I missed us…” “And here we are.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of San's lips, relief washing over his features. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a tender, hesitant kiss.

You slightly opened your mouth to welcome his tongue, his tip intertwining with yours, sending a wave of happiness and sweetness throughout your bodies.

“Who kisses you better? Tell me, y/n. Me or yujin?” He said between the kiss, earning a chuckle from you. “What if I say you are not good enough?" "Then I’ll show you who is better.”

The passion between you ignited, each kiss a fervent exploration of shared desire, a merging of souls that left an indelible mark on your hearts. You yielded to his advances, allowing him to take the lead as his movement grew more urgent, more possessive

His hand trailed down to the slit of your dress, finding the hem of your panties and pulling it down in one go. His fingers caressed your clit, making your juices flow out because of sudden excitement. You moaned in his mouth as he pushed his index finger into your cunt, moving in and out while scratching your tight wall.

“San…” “Gotta prepare you well, darling.” He pulled out the finger and picked you up, shoving you to the sofa as if you were nothing. Oh god, you missed this feeling.

Unbelted his pants, San freed his angry red cock that arched for so long. “Remember the feeling how I fuck you?” Slowly, his erection found its way to your entrance, sliding in as you arched your back in response. “Ah~fuck!”

Cupping your face, he pressed his lips against yours, starting to move. It had been so long since you felt this way. The sensation of him inside you drove him wild, his cock twitching with each thrust, drawing moans from your lips.

"I may not last long," he groaned, fingers intertwined with yours as he buried his face in your neck. A loud groan escaped you, surprising both of you. "Feel good, huh?" he asked, pressing his body against yours, the added friction heightening the pleasure.

The room was filled with the symphony of moans and the rhythmic slapping of skin, creating a melody that resonated in their ears. "I need deeper, babe," he whispered, sitting up to position your leg on his shoulder, his movements steady and intense. The depth of his thrusts pushed you towards the peak of pleasure, your eyes tightly shut as tears of ecstasy streamed down your face.

But San desired more, craving a deeper connection with you. He shifted your legs to the side, holding your arms as he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His tongue sought entrance with a mix of urgency and possessiveness, a silent declaration of his claim over you. Despite the initial expectation of rejection or disgust, you found yourself surrendering to the intensity of the moment, willingly succumbing to the whirlpool of desire that he embodied.

"I can't get enough of you, baby," he whispered, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist. You nestled into his embrace, cupping his face as your lips met in a kiss. Breathless and lost in the moment, your lips remained locked in a dance of fervor. “Hm…san…” You carefully bounced in a slow pace as if testing the water.

"Baby, you can go faster.” As the intensity grew, he urged you to go faster, his desire evident in his voice. “You wouldn't have been so slow before. Or maybe you need some help?” With a sudden, powerful thrust, he hit your sweet spot, eliciting a cry of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain. "Oh, fuck!" you gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly.

“That’s my girl.” He took control, gripping your wrist to control you bouncing at a very fast pace that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Moans and cries filled the air as you both gave in to the primal urge driving you towards ecstasy. His thick cock totally ruined you, the numbness from the g post colliding making you dizzy.

He knew you were about to cum as your wall became so tight and juices flowed out. “Cum for me, cum for me." With a loud moan, you released everything, wetting his thick cock. He also came in your cunt after a few thrusts.

“What…what if I get pregnant…?” Maybe this question was too late to ask though. “I will take care of both of you.” He gently tucked your hair behind your ears, pecking at your red cheek.

“Let's get back together, Y/N.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez san #san smut

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harmonysanreads · 4 months ago

Note

perhaps this is included in the yandere alphabet but how jealous do you think vampiretham would be? sure, darling is technically isolated but jealousy always finds a way 👀

[ au masterlist ]

Vampires tend to love... uniquely, intensely, breathlessly.

In the majority of cases, they're prone to viewing other beings as nothing more than sources of sustenance or, in the off chance a human proves themselves to be more entertaining than the average — they're usually regarded as possessions. But when a vampire falls in love? The laws that guide the trajectory of their existence stumble from their axis.

Vampire!Alhaitham has never had to worry about these niche concerns, maintaining his peaceful (albeit dreary) life was his sole goal. Complications in his life arise not because of the fact that he's fallen hopelessly in love with a human, but because initially, he's unable to understand the nature of those thus-foreign feelings. Logically so, he was not supposed to end up in this predicament at all. Imagine if a tiger fell in love with a deer mid-chase and started seeing it as a potential partner instead of lunch ; the notion is ridiculous in every sense.

To further complicate things, Vampire!Alhaitham was supposed to get rid of your existence as ordered by the higher ups, you don't even qualify as a blood bag to them. All these preconditions confused and made him think more than he should've. Thus, unnecessarily tangling one single thread in many knots. Alhaitham's strength is keeping lucidity in dire situations, so he's able to identify the subconscious and treacherous pulls of his soul in the direction of something dangerous easily.

Which is why, he opts to try distancing himself after repeated failures in ending the beat of your life. But of course, this too backfires when someone else is appointed behind his back to finish the job and this time, Vampire!Alhaitham allows his feelings to lead him, for once.

His jealousy is quite apparent because it manifests in actions guised under protective measures. Though, he'd like to wholeheartedly believe he isn't jealous, because jealousy to him is an expression of insecurity, of the fact that he isn't confident enough in either himself or you. Ironically, this belief only makes it worse until he's patched up and got you nice and secure in his secrete residence.

Keeping you at a place he knows is safe gives him plenty of time and steadiness of mind to research and learn about these feelings. His aim is, after all, keeping you safe, content and happy. It is through that research that he realizes that jealousy is not just an expression of insecurity ; but of a significant quantity of love and care.

Think about it, why would one even feel insecure of their hold on someone if that person wasn't to a degree... precious to them? Alhaitham understands that, it's the weight of his love for you that makes those irritating and bitter feelings surface regardless of how much he tries to stomp them down. The realization might be faulty, but it pacifies a lot of his inner conflicts and reassures him that he needn't be ashamed of his emotions.

Although, now that he understands another facet of this enigma called ‘love’ and can now rationalize it, his jealousy takes a more insufferable turn — for others, that is.

#overall i give him a 7/10 because it's not necessarily malicious to darling #i reblogged the yan alphabet for something else but tyyyy for giving me the chance to ramble about him zuzu #chit chat ; vampire alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham #yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere al haitham x reader #vampire alhaitham #vampire al haitham #vampire alhaitham x reader #vampire al haitham x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #alhaitham brainrot #teabutmakeitazure

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buckets-and-trees · 5 days ago

Note

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #chris evans characters #female reader #i'm your man collection #countdown to chris-mas #aspen wrote something #askpen

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iwritefandomimagines · 6 months ago

Text

REGRET — COOPER HOWARD/JOHN HANCOCK

masterlist

part one | part three [coming soon]

pairing: new bf!cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, ex-bf!john hancock x reader

description: you finally head to goodneighbor for a well earned rest… but hancock’s jealousy (and cooper’s possessiveness) might get in the way of that.

warnings: angst, swearing, jealous!hancock this time as well as jealous coop when you talk to him hehe.

author’s note: ok so i didn’t want hancock to be an ass (like that’s my og ghoul bf🤝) so he’s less of a prick than initially intended while cooper is… well… himself. but i hope u enjoy <3 part one linked above and smutty pt.3 coming soooon

———

“Ya sure you’re alright with this, sweetheart?”

Cooper calling you sweetheart had once ignited within you a combination of fear and excitement, never quite knowing whether he was doing so to tease you or with some semblance of affection.

Now, though, it spread warmth throughout your body — a sense of comfort knowing that he cared about you, with sweetheart being just one amongst a myriad other terms of endearment he used for you.

“‘S okay, Coop,” you tightened your grip on his arm where yours curled around it, “I got you, I’ll be fine.”

He hummed, seeming satisfied with your response as he leaned to press a kiss to your forehead, “If he so much as—,”

“He’s not gonna do anything, good or bad,” you shook your head, “He’ll probably just play the hospitable mayor and pretend he don’t know me, if anything.”

Cooper looked down at you now, trying hard to decipher your emotions.

You could tell, even after days of trying to reassure him, that he still had some fear you’d abandon him to return to a life in Goodneighbor once you saw Hancock again.

You leaned in a little closer, head resting on his shoulder as you made your way towards The Third Rail, heaving in a deep sigh at the familiar warmth it brought you.

You fought hard to ignore the stares coming your way, or the mumblings of Hancock’s men as they nodded for you to head on down.

“Alright, darlin’,” Cooper cooed, leading you to the bar, “What’dya want?”

Immediately upon replying (a bourbon, as always) you felt a shadow of a figure appear at your other side, as if he’d had a radar set for your arrival.

Cooper seemed uncharacteristically unaware for a moment as he busied himself ordering from Charlie, all while your former lover’s breath fanned over your neck.

“Well I never,” god, just hearing his voice again made your throat dry up… Even more so when you turned and saw his pained expression, “Didn’t count on ever seeing you here again. Especially not with company.”

The way he spat the last word made you shiver, unused to hearing him speak so harshly to you.

“We’ll be out of here in a few days— we just had a hell of a week,” you swallowed thickly, avoiding catching his intense gaze with yours, “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have—,”

It was now that your travelling companion noticed the other ghoul at your side, a snide grin on his face, “Well fuck me, didn’t take ya long did it?”

Before you looked at him you’d worried this was directed at you — that he thought somehow Hancock’s presence beside you had been invited.

But one glance saw his steely gaze fixed on the man before him, simultaneously threatening as well as mocking.

“Long time no see, Mayor. My sweet lil Y/N over here told me you’d been oh so hospitable last time she was here,” his hand fell to your waist possessively, watching Hancock’s eyes follow the action, “So we’re crashing at the Rexford for a couple nights if it ain’t no trouble.”

Hancock scratched the back of his neck, contemplating how to respond.

“We can leave if you want, John,” you choked on your words as you realised your error, “Mayor.”

“‘S fine, doll,” he bit, forcing a smile for you as he glared across at Cooper, “Welcome as long as you need. Can I speak to you alone for a minute though? Won’t keep ya long.”

You looked over at Cooper, not to seek permission but just to see how the request had gone down with him.

He was less than impressed.

“Is that a good idea?” you whispered shyly, fiddling with your fingers as you eyed the floor.

“Why wouldn’t it be, sunshine?” Cooper’s teasing seemed to have extended to be at your expense now too, and though you knew it was probably just 200 odd years of loneliness impairing his filter — you had to fight back the urge to roll your eyes, “‘S okay. We’ve got a hotel room to ourselves tonight, can’t keep you to myself the whole evening, can I? Much as I can’t wait to get you alone.”

You watched Hancock kiss his teeth — he knew Cooper was just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was certainly fucking working.

He chose to ignore him.

“C’mon, darlin’. Just a minute’s all I need.”

You sighed, “One minute.”

You followed him out of the room, cautious of the privacy you were being afforded as you turned to send Cooper a shy smile.

“How long’d it take you to find him, huh?” his voice wasn’t accusatory, he just sounded sad, “I ain’t trying to start a fight, I just hoped if I saw you again we might make things right. Didn’t expect you to be with someone else.”

You scoffed, “John, you ended things between us and it really fuckin’ hurt. I’m not sure you really get to be jealous or hopeful or whatever this is.”

“I made a mistake, sunshine,” he stepped towards you, “Been layin’ off the chems a little more since you left and I’ve been seeing straighter. I missed you.”

You gulped, feeling bile rise up your throat at his words.

Months ago, you’d most likely have jumped straight into his arms and forgiven him.

Now, it pricked it your heart in a totally different way. While it comforted you to know he’d made a change since losing you, it hurt that he couldn’t have done it sooner.

Besides, you were finally happy again now — Cooper made you happy.

“It’s a little late for that, don’tcha think?” you pouted, “And I know you’re more mad ‘cause he’s a ghoul when that’s like half the reason you decided we couldn’t be together.”

“I just thought— well, think, you deserve better,” Hancock frowned, “I’m just surprised.”

You sighed, “C’mon, don’t condescend me because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not condescending you,” he suddenly looked irritated more than sad as he had before, “You’re travelling around with a fuckin’ bounty hunter who’s bad news when you were—we were happy.”

“I’m happy with my fuckin’ bounty hunter, too,” your fingers made air-quotes as you snapped at him, “Can I remind you again who ended things here?”

“Alright, you’re right. I’m being jealous, but you can’t blame me,” he sighed defeatedly, closing his eyes for a moment contemplatively, “I’m really struggling since I’ve been cuttin’ down on the chems and—,”

You laughed bitterly, “Oh so you only miss me ‘cause you need something else to fixate on?”

“Low blow, huh,” he huffed, “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, sweetheart. I miss you ‘cause you’re you. Just got a clearer mind so can’t do anything to keep you off it now.”

“John…” he was stood closer to you now, and you were trembling under his close gaze, “I’m sorry—you broke my heart for no real reason and this is just—,”

“I’m sorry for treatin’ you like you can’t make your own decisions and— well, I fucked up. I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything,” he chuckled at his own words, “And I’ve done a whooole lot worth regretting.”

He drew in a sharp breath as you stayed silent for a moment, waiting for some kind of response that he never received.

You stood silently, biting your lip as you tried to calm your unsteady heartbeat with deep breaths.

He unfolded his arms, raising goosebumps on your skin as his hand rested on your forearm, “Look, Y/N, I ain’t gonna do anything you don’t want, I just had to see if there was any hope—he ain’t just any ghoul, I just don’t wanna see you with the wrong people.”

Before you could reply, you heard a kerfuffle outside, low grumblings of “you can’t go in there” and “wait outside” punctuated by the door swinging open to reveal Cooper.

“The only wrong person for Y/N right now is you, Mayor, so if I were you I’d watch where your hand’s going damn carefully.”

If looks could kill, Goodneighbor would’ve been mayorless in that moment.

Hancock didn’t retract his hand though, only raising his other one to dismiss his men, “Heh, you’ve made a lapdog out of the big bad bounty huntin’ ghoul I see, sweetheart.”

You watched Cooper’s hand rest on his gun at his side, staring at him a wide-eyed.

You knew he wasn’t stupid enough to shoot the mayor and that he was merely trying to threaten him, but it panicked you all the same.

“This here might be your town, but that there is my girl,” okay, his possessiveness could be really hot, “And if ya think I’m gonna let you sweet talk her after breakin’ her pretty little heart? Well, them chems really done fucked up your brain.”

The mayor shook his head, “Oh you’ve made that quite clear, but Y/N’s a big girl and can make her own damn decisions,” he glanced over at you now, “Me and you were happy before I went ‘n’ screwed things up, you can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Well, your mission failed,” Cooper pouted teasingly as he sauntered to your side and hooked your waist to pull you in close to him.

“Oh, ‘m sure you’ve had plenty of them, cowboy,” Hancock laughed through gritted teeth, sad eyes watching you lean into your new partner’s side, “Well, we had some good times sunshine, but I can see you‘ve moved on ‘n’ it looks like I can’t do anything about that.”

You sent him a small smile, looking up at Cooper for a moment to find him watching carefully for your response.

“I’m sorry, John,” you frowned, contemplating reaching out to hug him in a tactile show of forgiveness, “You’re right, things have changed. But that don’t mean our time together meant nothing to me.”

He smiled sadly at you, eyes briefly flickering to send daggers in Cooper’s direction.

You continued, “And I hope us being here don’t cause any trouble now. I’m happy, ‘nd I want you to be as well. We’ll, uh, see you around?”

“I’m glad you’re happy, really,” Hancock cooed, “Even if it’s with him. So yeah, I’ll see you around, gorgeous. Stay safe.”

“You don’t think I can keep her safe?” Cooper challenged, hand on his hip again as he snarled at him.

Hancock scoffed, “For someone so certain she doesn’t want me anymore, you sure are determined to make this a pissing contest, aren’t you?”

“C’mon, this is ridiculous,” you huffed, “I’m right here, for fucks sake. Right now I just need a drink, so if you guys are gonna carry on like this I’ll just go get one on my own, I guess.”

Hancock heaved in a deep sigh, itching for a hit of Jet given all the tension this conversation had left lingering in the room.

He didn’t want to fight over you like a possession, and he knew that really Cooper didn’t either.

“‘M sorry, Y/N,” he stepped back, turning to walk away, “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Cooper hummed, and you nudged his side at the continued warpath he seemed to be on, “Now c’mon sweetheart, we got a hotel room to get to.”

———

ok so this ended with cooper pissing you off in order to make way for makeup sex in part 3 basically hehe. im not sure how i feel so will probs come back to edit but i hope you enjoyed!!! feel free to request more… ive got a fluffy hancock fic almost finished too <3 in the meantime here’s my masterlist. x

#john hancock #john hancock x sole survivor #john hancock imagine #john hancock x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul #fallout #fallout imagines #the ghoul imagine

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mustainegf · 6 months ago

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Unexpected pregnancy with one of the Metallica boys, and reader is terrified he's going to dump her when he finds out bc rockstar life doesn't mesh well with family man life usually but he's happy and reassures her he's sticking by her side no matter what. Any era is fine. ❤️

I LOOOVVVVEEE STUFF LIKE THISS—you know me, I couldn’t just pick one, so I did kirk, James & cliff

I’m a sucker for baby stuff, so let me know if you guys want a part of them with their baby :P

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 ¹⁹⁹⁵

I stood outside the door to Kirk’s dressing room, my heart rapping so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest and splatter onto the door ahead of me. I clutched the small, white stick in my hand, the two pink lines glaring up at me.

I had rehearsed what I wanted to say a hundred times in my head, but now, in the moment, the words seemed to slip away.

I'm pregnant.

Finally, I took a deep breath and knocked softly. "Kirk? Can I come in?" I sked, tucking the pregnancy test up into my sleeve.

"Sure, babe," he called out. His voice was sweet as always, like buttermilk. When I stepped inside, he looked up from his guitar and grinned from ear to ear. "Hey, what's up? I missed you."

I tried to smile back, but I could feel my face giving me away. I stepped over to him, taking his hands in mine and leading him to sit on the couch. He looked at me with an almost bewildered expression, incredibly confused by my actions.

"Kirk, there's something I need to tell you," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "And it's really important."

He furrowed his brow, the smile fading from his face. "What is it? You're freaking me out." he giggles awkwardly, trying to take off some of the pressure.

I took a deep breath and held up the pregnancy test. "I'm pregnant."

For a while, there was complete silence.

Kirk stared at the test in my hand, his eyes unbelievably wide. My heart sank, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. What if he didn't want this? What if he—

Before I could spiral any further, I saw his eyes fill with tears. He slouched from the couch and dropped to his knees in front of me, clutching my hands tightly.

"You're… pregnant?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm going to be a dad?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks now. "Yes, Kirk. We’re going to have a baby."

And then, to my astonishment, he started to cry. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my stomach, his shoulders shaking with sobs. I could feel his tears soaking through my shirt.

"Oh my God," he said, looking up at me with a beaming smile through his tears. "This is the best thing you've ever told me."

I laughed through my own tears, overwhelmed by the intensity of his joy. I ran my fingers through his long hair. "I was so scared you'd be upset," I admitted in a whisper.

"Upset?" He stood up and cupped my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. "I’ve never been happier in my life."

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ¹⁹⁸⁸

I stood in the tiny bathroom, staring at the positive pregnancy test in my hand. The noise from the concert outside was deafening, but all I could hear was the thundering of my own heartbeat. How was I going to tell James? He was a rockstar, living the wild life. Would he even want to settle down? Ever?

It was scary, trembling in the bathroom alone, staring at the evidence of James' baby growing inside me, all while he thrashed around on stage, none the wiser.

My hands were practically vibrating as I walked backstage. James was there, shirtless and sweaty, coming down from the high of performing. He grinned when he saw me, pulling me into a bear hug. He did this a lot.

"Hey, babe! Did you see the crowd tonight? They were insane!"

"Yeah," I said weakly, trying to muster a smile. "They were pretty crazy."

He instantly could tell something was off. His smile drooped, and he quirked a brow at me with worry. "What’s wrong? You're pale, honey."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "James, there's something serious I need to tell you."

His eyes narrowed, and he took my hands in his. "Okay, shoot. I'm right here."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. "I just found out, and I… I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, James."

For a millisecond, he just stared at me. Then, to my complete shock, a huge grin wiped across his face. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, pulling me up around him and spinning. "That’s fucking amazing!"

I blinked, taken aback. "You're… happy?"

"Happy?" He pulled back to look at me, his eyes shining with excitement. "Honey, I'm fucking ecstatic! We're having a baby! Can you believe that?"

He placed his hand gently on my tummy, his eyes softening to an extent I'd never seen. "Hey there, little guy," he said softly.

Tears filled my eyes, and I let out a chuckle of pure relief. "I was so scared," I confessed.

"Baby, this is the best news ever!" He kissed me again, his hands never leaving my stomach.

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅 ¹⁹⁸⁵

I sat on the edge of the bed, the pregnancy test clutched in my hand. My heart was pounding against my ribs, and I felt like I might be sick. How was I going to tell Cliff? He was so calm and sweet, but this was huge. Surely he didn’t want this?

When Cliff walked into the room, he immediately noticed my distressed face. "Hey, what’s wrong, love?" he asked, concern lacing his buttery words.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Cliff, I..."

He took my hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Whatever it is, we’ll do it together. Tell me what's happening, sweetheart."

"I’m pregnant," I choked out, my voice barely heard over my quiet cries. "I just found out, and... and I’m s-so scared, Cliff. I don’t know what to do."

For a moment, he just stared at me, a small frown on his face. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Yes," I said, tears building up in my eyes. "I’m really scared, Cliff. I don’t want to lose you."

Cliffs tense face calmed, and he pulled me into a gentle hug. "Hey, hey," he murmured, rubbing my back. His long, slender fingers were warm and firm. "Don’t cry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

I buried my face in his chest, sobbing. "I thought you didn't want this."

He pulled back slightly, cupping my face in his hands. "I want this more than anything," he said softly. "I could never leave you, let alone you and our baby."

His words comforted me so immensely. Something I hadn’t felt since I saw the positive test. "You’re not mad? O-or upset?" I asked, desperately needing to hear it again.

"Mad?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "My love, how could I be mad at my beautiful, pregnant girlfriend?"

He kissed me gently, his hands resting on my still-flat stomach. "I love you," he whispered against my lips. "And I love our baby. We’re going to be just fine."

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voxofthevoid · 2 months ago

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I loved your answer to the Sukuita anon! I’d also like to ask for some elaboration if that’s okay: when you said that Sukuna in the manga says he finds Yuji boring but is borderline obsessed with him, can I ask how you got to that interpretation/conclusion? I myself am a MASSIVE sukuita shipper and yet sometimes I struggle w the ship because it feels like Sukunas hate for Yuji is so,,, rigid? To me it’s not just hate sometimes it borders on disdain/apathy which is a lot less forgiving than a passionate feeling like hate I think? And it narrows down the plausibility of a relationship between them (which makes me sad bc I ship these two BAAAADDDDDD 😭😭). So I just wanna know how you reconciled that aspect of their relationship.

When I ship something I don’t wanna feel like the characters would have to be OOC to be together (I’m not one of those people who can soften a char’s edges in my imagination to make it fit the ship), which Sukuita often feels like. Straight up giving me ship-imposter syndrome 😭 💀 making me ask myself am I being delulu? Do these two chars even have chemistry fr?

I think I’ve just never seen a character like Sukuna call another char BORING this much before. Like damn Sukuna can’t even say he hates Yuji 😭 he gotta call him boring 😭😭 and that makes me wanna kms 😭 😭 I don’t wanna ship a fraud ship so please help me see what you see.

I’ve never shipped something so hard while simultaneously being so confused and conflicted over shipping it.

*pats pats* I can understand that dilemma. Hate is a very passionate emotion, while indifference/apathy is defined by lack of passion. How's that quote go—the opposite of love isn't hate but indifference? I'd also find it harder to get into a ship where one party outright doesn't care about the other, while mutual or even one-sided hate are prime shipping grounds.

But in this case, without any real insight into your head, I'd wager a guess that you're experiencing this disconnect because you have critically picked up on the undercurrents of Sukuna and Yuuji's relationship but are consciously too caught up in what Sukuna says.

He be lyin' though. To himself, most of all. There's a reason I specified he must be in denial in that post you saw.

Sukuna very badly wants Yuuji to be boring. He wants Yuuji to not matter—for his ideals to be foolish, for his will to wither. Most importantly, Sukuna wants to be completely unaffected by Yuuji. He tries to emphasize this so many times in so many ways: he never calls Yuuji by name (except once at the beginning and then at the very end), he belittles and mocks Yuuji at every opportunity, and he says in a variety of ways that Yuuji's boring and inconsequential.

But look at his actions, the way he behaves. From the beginning, whenever he takes over Yuuji, Sukuna tries to do things that will not only bring him joy but also shatter Yuuji, and the degree of his targeted malice only increases as the story progresses. The devastation at Shibuya is a natural consequence of Sukuna's fight with Jogo and then Mahoraga, but that final moment where he takes care to lead Yuuji to the very edge of the crater, taunting him while making sure Yuuji will witness the full scale of the devastation the instant he opens his eyes? That's so intensely personal.

And it only gets worse after Sukuna switches to Megumi's body; there are glaring contradictions between what he tells Yuuji and how he acts/reacts. Honestly, even his interior monologue contradicts what he says half the time. Both in the last few chapters of "Cursed Womb: Under Heaven" and "The Decisive Battle in the Uninhabited, Demon-Infested Shinjuku," there's a running thread of Sukuna verbally dismissing Yuuji while actively being shocked, offended, confused, and even cornered by his actions. And whenever the battle narrows to just the two of them, you have Sukuna continuously needling Yuuji to get a rise out of him, while Yuuji's fixated on just tearing into him and saving Megumi—until Yuuji's domain expansion, that is.

The crux of it is there in Chapter 248, explicitly realized by Sukuna himself. Sharing a body with Yuuji, their souls coexisting in excruciating proximity, forced Sukuna to understand and be aware of Yuuji in a way that's deeply uncomfortable to Sukuna, both because of his character and because of how diametrically opposed Yuuji's values and ideals are to Sukuna's nature. Even the very act of understanding Yuuji discomfits Sukuna. Naturally, he resolves to shatter those ideals and Yuuji himself.

Yuuji's DE and its aftermath also illustrate this. You have Sukuna outright saying he feels "absolutely nothing" about the humanity Yuuji showcased only to become incandescently angry the instant he perceives Yuuji as pitying him. There's nothing apathetic about the way he resolves to tear apart everyone Yuuji loves before killing him; he even admits out loud that he's surprised by the intensity of his hatred.

Fundamentally, Yuuji changed him, and Sukuna fucking hated it the entire time—the premonition, the process, the result. He's so insistent on Yuuji meaning nothing because to accept otherwise challenges the very foundation Sukuna built his existence on. To him, Yuuji is an existential threat, and we see it realized in the afterlife scene, where Sukuna admits to wanting to try a kinder path in life. That's one hell of an admittance coming from him, but it's also an admittance he could only have made in death, in loss.

In the end, he died cradled by Yuuji, verbally rejecting him using Yuuji's own words while simultaneously acknowledging Yuuji by using his proper name. And ain't that sukuita in a nutshell?

Even outside of the shipping goggles, they're a central narrative-driving force in the final arc and for good reason.

I do think the development of this relationship could have benefited from (a) the Shinjuku Showdown arc having a tighter focus, instead of being so drawn out and haphazard, and (b) Yuuji's DE and the parts around it being expanded to cover a Heian era flashback as well as more insights into Yuuji's understanding of Sukuna. I read or skimmed like twenty chapters just to put this post together because while I trust my memory, I wanted concrete references, and it really showed how scattered the emotional core of the Sukuna gauntlet is.

#i love my anons #anon #sukuita #jjk #jjk meta #jjk spoilers #i have no idea how coherent this is but I spent like an hour typing it out #all while half rereading the manga #welp

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dollgxtz · 3 months ago

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Why’d you write Sylus so crazy? You’re turning him into one of those booktok men and he’s anything BUT that. I just don’t get it :/

Hi anon! I know my yandere!Sylus story is disturbing. And while yes, I do take great pleasure in writing such topics such as kidnapping n such, I genuinely just wanted to write a dark Sylus fic exploring a different version of him where his desires and upbringing lead him to hurt even the people he loves. I love tragic characters and stories!

Think about if you watch a horror movie. You know murdering and killing is bad and yet you still watch it for entertainment, to see what happens!

By the way, this isn’t to argue or call you out anon, just hoping to shed some light on my perspective as the author. I love when people ask about my work, and I’m happy to answer regardless of the context! My ask box is always open if any of you have questions!

Below is a breakdown of some of the complexities I wanted to portray!

Yandere!Sylus Breakdown

I envisioned him as a deeply complex character—not necessarily in his emotions, because yandere!Sylus always knows exactly what he wants—but in the way he rationalizes his actions and interprets his “wrongdoings.”

On the surface, his actions are undeniably wrong. Kidnapping a girl, forcing her into a life of isolation, and desiring to have children with her while keeping her away from everyone she’s ever loved is, by all moral standards, reprehensible. However, Yandere!Sylus doesn’t see it that way. To him, these actions are justifiable as long as they fulfill a purpose in his grand design.

He operates with a calculated mindset, never doing anything unless he believes it will ultimately benefit him, even if it means causing immense suffering. The fact that the reader might hate him only reinforces his resolve; he views it as a challenge, something to be overcome or “fixed” rather than a deterrent.

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t love reader, he does. But he is inherently selfish at his core since that was what was needed to survive. I intend to break this down further!

In yandere!Sylus’s twisted logic, he genuinely believes that if he can get the reader pregnant, she will inevitably develop a bond with the child. He sees this as a means to an end—a way to “tame” her, to anchor her to him emotionally.

He is convinced that motherhood will soften her resistance, leading her to accept the life he has meticulously crafted for them. To him, this is not just a strategy but a deeply held belief that love, however twisted, can be cultivated through shared ties, like the birth of a child.

This version of Sylus is driven by a yearning for the idealized version of happiness that society often romanticizes—the “big happy family” with “children running around” and a “loving wife.” It’s a vision that he clings to desperately, not because he understands it in the way most people do, but because he was denied such love and stability as a child.

Sylus grew up in a world where love was scarce and survival was paramount, as depicted in the original story. This lack of nurturing has warped his understanding of love and family, leading him to believe that these things can be engineered or forced into existence.

In blending elements of the original story into this version of Sylus and the reader, I wanted to show the core aspects of his character while exploring new dimensions of his psyche. However, I didn’t want it to be an exact replication, as the reader in this version isn’t the canonical main character from the original universe. Instead, she represents an alternative narrative where Sylus’s obsessions and desires manifest differently, yet still retain the disturbing intensity that defines his character! ^o^

All in all, if this story isn’t for you. Don’t read it please. I write for a certain demographic of people who enjoy twisted media. It’s fiction after all! No one is truly getting hurt. I hope this helps with your confusion anon!

#umi answers ♡︎#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus x reader smut #sylus #l&ds smut #lads

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fluentmoviequoter · 11 months ago

Text

A New Kind of Fear

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!wife!reader

Summary: When 20 David completes a raid with narcotics, they stumble upon a stalker. The unknown suspect has been watching you, and now Deacon must find him while dealing with the fear you've grown used to.

Warnings: canon typical action/danger, reader has a stalker but doesn't know, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

A/N: This premise is kind of similar to the one in Worried for You but hopefully this is okay! I really liked the stalker idea and approaching the story with a focus on Deacon and his emotions!

Requested Here!

Picture from Pinterest

Everyone told you that marrying a SWAT officer would not be easy. Deacon himself told you the same thing. But he has watched you take every bump, bruise, and bullet in stride. Of course, you worry about him, but you support him, which makes you perfect for him. He lives a dangerous life at work, so when he comes home to you, he gets a chance to relax, breathe, and be with someone who loves him no matter how many scars he has or gives. When things get tough in the field, Deacon imagines you safe at home, ready to pull him into your arms and hold him together.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Narcotics will be ready to come in after we clear the house,” Hondo explains. “The house has two entrances, one front and one back, so we’ll have two breach teams. Front entry has a security gate, so we’ll pull it off with Black Betty then make entry at the same time. Get the house empty so narc can do their thing. Any questions?”

“When do we leave?” Luca jokes.

The breach goes well, and there’s only one suspect in the house. Street disarms the suspect and gets him outside as the entry teams finish clearing the house.

“Left side clear,” Tan calls.

“Kitchen clear,” Luca adds.

Hondo prepares to open the last door, examining the room quickly before lowering his gun. “Deacon,” he says, far too intense for anyone’s liking.

Deacon can tell by his stiff posture and the tone of his voice that something is wrong. He’s expecting drug mules or a false wall, but those would have been far better.

With wide eyes, Deacon steps into the room with Hondo close behind him.

“Narcotics is coming in,” Luca says as he approaches the door. “Whoa.”

The room is covered in pictures. All different places, different times, different days, different angles, some close, some far, but each features the same subject. You, Deacon Kay’s wife. Thousands of pictures of you are taped to the walls of the small bedroom. What bothers Deacon the most is that he isn’t in a single picture, which means whoever held the camera knew to avoid him.

“Was he in here?” Deacon asks Street.

“No, our guy was in the living room,” Street answers nervously.

“I’m going to kill him,” Deacon seethes.

“Deacon,” Hondo begins.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Hondo,” he snaps. “That is my wife all over this lunatic’s wall. He’s been within feet of her, and I didn’t know!”

Deacon’s shoulders heave as he breathes, looking around the room with his hand on his gun.

“Deacon, we’ll find this guy. But narcotics needs to get in here,” Hondo says gently.

Deacon nods, pushing between Luca and Tan to return to Black Betty. His anger dissipates with each step. Now, he’s scared. Deacon Kay is a man who has grown unfamiliar with the sensation of fear. He desperately wants to go home, to stay glued to your side while someone else hunts this guy down and puts him in a hole where he’ll never see the light of day again. But the anger flares, and he wants to be the one to lead him to the darkness. As his emotions wage war within him, Deacon has to decide to tell you or to let you keep living until it’s over.

“He’s not okay,” Street points out.

“Imagine if it was your wife,” Luca replies. “He’s mad at himself is my guess.”

“Why?” Tan asks.

“Because he didn’t know,” Hondo answers as he walks by. “But we have to find this guy before Deacon decides to go after him alone."

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon makes the hard decision not to tell you. He tries to convince himself it’s so that you don’t get scared, but he is dealing with enough fear for both of you. Sitting in the locker room for privacy, Deacon dials your number and waits to hear your voice. He has to force the idea of someone watching you out of his mind.

“Hey,” you answer. “I was starting to think you’d be at work all night.”

“Uh, yeah, about that. I actually do have to stay and probably won’t be home until tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You hum before asking, “Is everything okay?”

He wants to tell you, but he’s terrified that if you know and it makes you act different, the stalker may find out that Deacon knows and go for you.

“Everything’s fine, just working with narcotics on a difficult case.” It’s not entirely a lie, at least.

“Alright, stay safe. I love you.”

Deacon closes his eyes and pictures your face, smile, hugs, and everything he can remember about you. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m holding you to that, Kay.”

The line beeps, and Deacon sees the room of pictures again. His anger swells, and he has to do something, or the emotions will eat him alive. He changes into gym clothes and walks to one of the punching bags. His knuckles are pink and beginning to crack after a few minutes of intense anger management. Something in him wants to cry, but he forces it down, preferring to stick with the emotion that makes revenge seem so appealing.

“Deac,” Hondo calls. “We need to talk.”

Deacon begins punching again. “Then talk,” he says between an uppercut and a cross.

“You need to go home.”

“Not happening. Not tonight.”

“She can help.”

Deacon freezes, his hands in the guarding position as he turns to face Hondo. His hands drop to his sides as he cocks his head to the right.

“What?”

“She can help,” Hondo repeats slowly.

“How? You think she knows she’s being stalked and didn’t tell me?”

“Not like that, Deac. You need help in something that she’s an expert in.”

“Which is?” Deacon presses, his patience already worn thin.

“Dealing with fear and worry. Being scared and desperate for answers that aren’t available to you right now. She’s a cop’s wife, Deac, she understands what you’re going through more than anyone else ever could.”

“It’s not the same, Hondo.”

“She sits at home, worried that you’re never coming home, so she calls the station. And you know what they tell her? Nothing; they say they don’t have information right now. Which is exactly the situation you’re in.”

“Someone has been watching my wife and I didn’t know, Hondo. I want to kill him, but I also want to see him rot in jail. He’s been within feet of my wife, and we don’t even know what he looks like. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work.”

“I get it, you’re scared, you’re-“

“Pissed?”

Hondo raises a hand to stop Deacon. “The emotions don’t help us if you take them out here, Deac. So, if you want to do something, find something for us to do. Don’t sit here in your own anger until something worse happens.”

Deacon looks down at his bruising knuckles and nods. “You’re right. I’ll see what I can find.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“The entire house is barricaded. Doors, windows, vents. This was meant to be in impenetrable fortress,” Deacon says. “But it’s not. There’s a weak spot. Right here, this red spot on the blueprint is a corner that hasn’t been reinforced. As far as we know, at least.”

“So, a single pull?” someone asks.

“Technically yes. But we’re going to try to distract him and do a triple pull. If we get lucky and one of the other pulls gets us in, we’ll make entry. But the plan is to send alpha team into this pull and get our guy.”

“Weapons?”

“None confirmed, no registered guns, but we don’t know, so operate under the assumption of yes.”

As the room clears and officers prepare to complete the breach operation and bring in a suspect, Hondo stops Deacon.

“Are you up for this?”

Deacon nods as he answers, “I won’t lie, I’m still angry and I’m a little scared about what we’ll find, but I need to be there Hondo.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. If you want to rough him up a little, I won’t see anything.”

“If I could get away with it,” Deacon says, trailing off.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon is scared, angry, anxious, and confused, but also merciful and a good SWAT officer. When the window is pulled from the wall, bringing several stud posts down, Deacon leads the team into the house, clearing each room until they reach the living room. The man kneels in the middle of the room, his hands up in surrender.

“LAPD SWAT,” Deacon announces.

“I surrender.”

An officer reads him his rights as he’s handcuffed, staring directly ahead.

“Do you know who this woman is?” Hondo asks, showing him a picture.

The man glances at Deacon, which is all the answer he needs. Deacon hoists him to his feet, pushing him into the hallway and toward the front door. He pulls to the side slightly, steering the man into a corner.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that, let’s watch those corners on the way through,” he says.

Deacon pushes the man into the back of a cruiser, glad he’s off the street but disappointed in the lack of immediate answers.

“Leverage,” the man whispers. “He wanted leverage. We were never gonna hurt her or nothing.”

“Leverage for what?” Deacon asks, bending into the open door. “And who is we, who are you working with?”

“Working for. He’ll kill me if I tell.”

“We can protect you if you tell us what you know and tell a jury what you know.”

The man whispers a name, and Deacon nods once before closing the door.

“We got one more,” he tells Hondo.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s political?” the DA clarifies.

“We all know that gentrification mumbo jumbo was a load of absolutely nothin’ meant to butter us up before the next election.”

“And what did the images have to do with this?”

“Oh, yeah, Mrs. Kay. Pretty lady. We needed her husband on our side or it would never work.”

“How long have you been stalking her?”

“’Bout nine months. Needed lots of leverage before a big voting year like this.”

“Why so many photos?”

“Like I said, lots of leverage.”

“Were you working with anyone else?”

“We’re a two-man show.”

“Last question for now. Did you ever intend to harm the woman in the photographs?”

“Not if everything went according to plan.”

Hondo lays a hand on Deacon’s shoulder as they watch through the two-way glass.

“I need to go home,” Deacon mutters.

“Good idea, man. Take a few days if you need to. But we got him so you can both rest easy tonight.”

“Should I tell her?”

“That, brother, is up to you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear Deacon’s car and run to the front door, opening it with a big smile. Deacon pulls you against him, hugging you tightly as he closes the door.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer as he sits with you in his arms.

“For what?”

“Worrying you all the time. Not realizing just how many emotions are involved with seeing someone you love in danger and not having answers,” Deacon lists off.

You pull back quickly, your wide eyes searching Deacon’s deep brown ones. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

Deacon nods, his hands wandering around your waist and back. “Someone- uh, we raided a house with narcotics yesterday and found a room full of pictures.”

“A stalker?”

“Yeah, but the pictures were of you,” Deacon adds quietly.

“Oh,” you reply, pressing your hands gently against Deacon’s shoulders. “And what happened?”

“I got so mad and scared and anxious that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to kill the guy but I also wanted to come home and never leave your side. It was confusing and there were no answers. Hondo talked to me last night and pointed out that’s exactly what you deal with all the time.”

You nod, encouraging Deacon to continue.

“We found the guy who took the pictures and the guy he was working for. It was a political scheme to get me to back their position.”

“And they were going to hurt me if you didn’t,” you deduce.

Deacon nods, pulling you closer again.

“Deac, I know how scary it can be to not know, and how easy it is to get angry when someone hurts or threatens to hurt the people closest to you. I’m not mad at you for not coming home, but I need you to talk to me about this stuff. I love you, Deac, and I’m here for you, stalker or not.”

“Too soon,” Deacon says, chuckling despite himself.

You push your fingers through his hair and lean your forehead against his. “Did you rough him up?”

“Pushed him into a corner.”

You smile knowingly and kiss him quickly. “Thank you, Deacon.”

“I love you,” he says, gripping your waist as he tips you back to kiss you.

“I love you,” you reply, meeting him halfway.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests

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fear-is-truth · 1 month ago

Note

please do some winter anderson and her girlfriend headcanons

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 — winter anderson

pairing — winter anderson x f!reader﹒headcanons﹒fluff﹒tiny bit of angst

a/n: she’s literally my girlfriend

winter takes the lead in your relationship, but her dominance is always soft and nurturing. her brother has always been the dominant force in her life, controlling her actions and decisions, which leaves her feeling powerless. but with you, winter craves a taste of control in a way that feels empowering, not suffocating.

she seeks out a different dynamic with you, one where she feels safe and respected. she wants to experience a relationship where she has control, but also where both of you feel seen and heard. with you, she finds comfort in knowing she can be the stronger one while still being vulnerable.

her personality can be described as cat-like. sometimes, she’s cold and distant, curling up on the couch with scrolling through her phone, not wanting to talk. but deep down, she’s completely touch-starved. the moment you gently coax her into a hug or brush your fingers through her silvery hair, she melts.

after having sex, she breaks down and cries. of course she tries to hold it in, but the emotional intensity of finally feeling loved and safe overwhelms her. she’s not used to being cared for in such a tender way, and the release of emotions always brings her to tears. you hold her through it, brushing your fingers through her hair, and she clings to you like you’re her lifeline. she apologises profusely, but you reassure her that it’s okay to feel.

though winter tries to act confident in the relationship, she’s deeply insecure. she’s afraid that her brother’s influence and the bad things she’s done has broken her beyond repair, and sometimes she wonders if she’s worthy of your love. she’ll ask questions like, “why do you stay with me?” or “don’t you think you could do better?” you constantly remind her that she’s more than enough, but she struggles to believe it.

doesn’t ask for physical affection outright, but she craves it desperately. when you’re together, she’ll casually rest her hand on your leg or lean into your shoulder. if you initiate a hug, she immediately melts, her ice-queen façade fading as she buries herself into your warmth.

has a fierce protective streak when it comes to you. she doesn’t let anyone talk down to or hurt you, even kai. while she might not be able to stand up to him for herself, she becomes more assertive when it’s about your well-being.

winter is fiercely protective of you, especially when it comes to her brother. she’s terrified that he’ll pull you into his cult or try to manipulate you the way he manipulates her. constantly warns you to stay away from him and his “cause,” and you can see the fear in her eyes when she talks about it. the thought of losing you to kai haunts her, and she’ll do whatever it takes to shield you from his influence.

has an almost irrational fear of losing you. with everything in her life being so dysfunctional and chaotic—thanks to her parents and two fucked-up older brothers—she clings to the one constant source of peace: you. she’s terrified that kai or the cult will rip you away from her, and the thought of it makes her more protective and anxious, always making sure you’re safe when you’re not together.

often acts like she doesn’t need your affection, pretending to be indifferent. but when you’re busy or distracted, she’ll sulk, pout or subtly try to get your attention by leaning against you or making snarky comments. she won’t ask for it, but when you finally notice and give her the love she wants, she immediately lights up, even if she tries to hide her tiny smirk.

not a morning person, but she loves waking up next to you. she’ll pretend to be annoyed when you wake her up, but the truth is, she loves the way you softly stroke her hair or kiss her cheek in the mornings.

has a thing for playing with your hair. whether it’s braiding it, brushing it, dying it or just running her fingers through it while you’re talking, it calms her.

shows her affection by gifting you with small things she thinks you’ll like—a pretty bracelet, a vinyl record, or a specific nail polish. she never makes a big deal about it; she’ll just leave the items somewhere she knows you’ll find them, like a cat dropping off gifts for its owner.

she can get a little jealous, but she never admits it outright. instead, she’ll get clingy when she notices someone else flirting with you. she’ll make scathing remarks and shoot glares at anyone who seems too interested in you.

#american horror story #ahs #Ahs cult #ahs season 7 #winter anderson x reader #winter anderson #kai anderson

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thepaperpanda · 1 year ago

Text

In Sickness and in Health || Akaza x fem!reader x Douma

Summary: In a rare moment of unity, Douma and Akaza set aside their differences to collaborate in nursing you back to health as you, their beloved human partner, succumbed to a cold

Warnings: none, just Akaza being mean to Douma

Word count: 3639

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: Requested by @arthurbristow

The concept of a demon falling in love with a human was already considered unconventional, but the notion of two demons harboring affections for the same human was utterly unheard of.

Fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor as Akaza realized that his beloved, the one who held a special place in his heart, was none other than Douma's beloved as well… It was a situation that couldn't be worse... or could it?

Over the course of several visits, Akaza began to sense that something was amiss with you. Despite your insistence that everything was fine, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at him.

On this particular evening, his concern reached its peak, compelling Akaza to pay you a visit and ascertain your well-being. As he approached your humble abode, his ears were met with the most grating and irritating sound in the entire world.

"Oh, Akaza-dono!" Douma's voice rang out cheerfully, accompanied by an enthusiastic wave of his hand. "I see you've come to check on our beloved Y/N. It appears I'm not the only one who was worried about her."

Akaza remained silent, his frustration evident as he emitted a disgruntled 'tsk' sound. Without uttering a single word, he briskly walked towards your dwelling, with Douma following closely behind, seemingly unfazed by Akaza's discontent.

The atmosphere between them was charged, a blend of conflicting emotions and unspoken tension. Akaza's presence loomed with an air of possessiveness, while Douma's demeanor exuded an almost mischievous delight. It was a precarious situation, teetering on the edge of uncertainty.

Standing by your front door, Akaza's gaze fixated on the surroundings, searching for any signs of something that might have made you sad. The worry etched on his face mirrored the genuine care he held for you, despite the complexity of their intertwined affections.

Douma, ever observant, watched with an air of curiosity. His playful nature seemingly balanced on a knife's edge, ready to revel in the unfolding drama or diffuse the mounting tension with a well-timed jest.

As you lay on your bed, your limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the intense fever that wracked your body. Despite the insistent knocking at the door, you remained rooted to your spot, unable to summon the strength to rise and answer it. The sound of your own rasping breath filled the room, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of knuckles against wood. "It's... It's open!" You managed to raise your voice.

Akaza took the lead, stepping inside the house. The sight of you in bed at this hour was uncommon, stirring a sense of concern within him.

Douma glanced back, his expression filled with worry. "Oh, my dear lotus! Are you feeling unwell? Are you sick?"

You tried to sit up and groaned as the room spun around you. "I'm not feeling well...."

"I told you something is wrong," Akaza frowned, making his way to your bedside and taking a seat. His hand gently rested on your warm forehead. "You have a fever, my love."

"That's no good," Douma sighed, mirroring Akaza's actions as his hand cupped your flushed and heated cheek. "We need to find a way to help. I could call upon my followers; surely someone among them knows what to do."

Akaza growled softly, casting a stern glance at Douma. "No stranger will come near her. We can take care of her ourselves."

Douma couldn't help but giggle, a soft purr infused in his tone. "Oh, we?! So you're finally acknowledging me in this little love triangle!"

The exchange between Akaza and Douma brimmed with a blend of concern, frustration, and a hint of playful banter. Their shared affection for you compelled them to find a solution to ease your discomfort, yet their different approaches and underlying dynamics created a tension that was both palpable and intriguing.

You pushed the hands of both Douma and Akaza off your face, feeling suffocated and overheated as you rolled to your back. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your pulse racing with a dizzying intensity. The heat enveloped you like a smothering blanket, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead and trickle down your temples. You whispered, barely audible, "It's hard to breathe, I feel so hot." The world around you spun in a dizzying frenzy, as though you were caught in the eye of a whirlpool.

"Stay down, my love," Akaza sighed, his voice filled with exasperation, as he made his way to one of the windows. With a gentle push, he opened it slightly, allowing a breath of fresh air to enter the room.

Meanwhile, Douma, ever unpredictable, took hold of one of the towels you owned and casually departed from the house. Akaza couldn't help but feel a surge of relief, grateful for a temporary respite from the presence of the bothersome demon.

In that moment, Akaza's spirits lifted, knowing that he wouldn't have to deal with Douma's antics for a while. It brought a sense of contentment, however fleeting it may be, as he embraced the quietude that settled upon the space they shared.

You closed your eyes, endeavoring to breathe calmly as a severe headache began to form, but the pain proved too intense. A moment later, tears began to stream down your cheeks as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape your lips. Your attempts to control your breathing faltered, and you began to hyperventilate, gasping for air in short, ragged breaths. "I wanna die, Akaza.... Kill me, end my suffering, please!"

He positioned himself on the bed, pulling you gently towards him, allowing your back to rest against his sturdy chest. This arrangement provided a comfortable halfway point between sitting and lying down, ensuring your ease as he held you close. "Don't utter such foolish words," Akaza murmured in a soft growl, his voice laced with concern, as he tenderly wiped away your tears. "We will take care of you, and you will begin to feel better."

Just as the atmosphere began to settle, Douma's cheerful voice broke the silence, announcing his return. He entered the room with a sense of joy, holding a damp towel in his hand. With a deliberate motion, he approached you and placed the towel gently on your forehead, his finger making contact with the fabric.

In an instant, the moisture within the towel froze, transforming it into a soothing cold compress. The icy sensation promised relief, especially for your feverish state.

"This, my dear lotus, should aid in reducing your fever," Douma remarked, a hint of affection underlying his words.

You let out a deep groan, your body tense with anticipation, as Douma pressed the cool cloth to your forehead. The sensation was like a wave of relief washing over you, easing the ache in your head. The coldness of the towel was like a soothing balm, calming your racing thoughts and slowing your heartbeat. You closed your eyes and let out a contented sigh, grateful for Douma's quick thinking and gentle touch. "Thank you, my lord," you told him, resting comfortably against Akaza's broad, muscular chest. "It feels better. It is better."

With a simple nod, Douma placed his chilled, ice-like hands on your cheeks. "Once we eliminate this wretched fever, you'll feel better truly," he remarked, his tone filled with determination.

Meanwhile, Akaza tenderly stroked your head, his touch radiating reassurance. "We will take care of you," he whispered softly. "Soon, you'll be back to your vibrant self."

"I went to the lake a few days ago and decided to take a bath in it," you explained, your teeth chattering. "It was so cold, but I just couldn't resist the temptation. And now I think it's the reason why I caught a cold."

Akaza's voice carried a growl of concern as he confronted you, his words dripping with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? We warned you about bathing in the river. It's still far too cold for that."

Beside him, Douma nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Akaza's worry. "Indeed, my dear lotus," he chimed in. "He's absolutely right. You don't possess the same resilience as we do. You should exercise caution and take better care of your body."

Your heart beated fast in your chest as you began to speak. "I must apologize to both of you," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "My recklessness has caused harm, and for that, I am truly sorry. I'm sorry for not listening to neither of you."

Akaza's voice resonated with a soothing calmness as he offered his advice. "Don't dwell on it for now. Your priority should be on recovering," he said, keeping his words simple and direct.

Douma nodded in agreement, acknowledging Akaza's wisdom. "Just relax and find solace in rest," he added, his tone filled with care and tenderness for you, his beloved.

After you had finally calmed down, both Akaza and Douma stood watch over you, ensuring your safety until they were certain you had drifted off to sleep. Once satisfied, Akaza carefully placed you back onto the bed, tenderly covering you with a blanket.

Meanwhile, Douma made sure the towel remained cold, a testament to his attention to detail and concern for your well-being. His words, however, held a hint of something darker. "Humans, such fragile creatures," Douma remarked, a suggestion laced within his words. "Perhaps we could alleviate her suffering together, sharing the burden."

Akaza's brow furrowed, a frown etching across his face, his anger slowly simmering beneath the surface. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he responded in a measured tone, suppressing the surge of emotions threatening to consume him. "We must nourish her," Akaza stated plainly, his voice carrying a sense of determination. Without further ado, he turned and walked away, his actions implying a steadfast commitment to fulfilling your needs and ensuring your well-being.

In this intricate dance of conflicting desires and motivations, their actions revealed a delicate balance between care and the potential for something darker. The complexities of their dynamic unfolded as they grappled with their own internal struggles, their choices and actions pivotal in shaping your shared fate.

The next time you awoke, you found both Akaza and Douma standing near your stove.

"Looks delicious," Douma commented with a mischievous tone, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Such a shame we cannot share it with her. Although, I'm certain it doesn't compare to the nutritional value of female flesh." His words were accompanied by a playful giggle, clearly enjoying the reaction it elicited from Akaza.

Akaza, on the other hand, wore a visibly annoyed expression, his face contorting in response to Douma's jest. However, his irritation quickly transformed into a brief moment of surprise as he noticed your awakening.

"Oh! You're awake!" Douma exclaimed, his tone shifting to one of genuine surprise and perhaps even a touch of delight.

"Boys?" You whispered, propping yourself on your elbow. "What are you doing? What's that smell?"

"That idiot managed to get you something to eat," Akaza remarked in a straightforward manner.

Douma's lips curled into a gentle smile as he glanced at you. "I simply mentioned to one of my followers that someone dear to me was unwell and in need of something delicious," he explained. Without hesitation, he approached your side, removing the towel from your head. "Feeling any better?" He inquired, concern evident in his voice.

You smiled at Douma weakly, nodding your head in gratitude. "I'm feeling much better thanks to you and Akaza's care," you said, your voice soft and grateful. "I cannot thank you both enough for taking care of me."

Akaza approached, a bowl held gently in his hands, and spoke with a voice filled with love and concern. "We love you," he declared, joining the two of you. "And because we care deeply for you, some of us have realized that you need extra care. Here, please eat."

Douma, his expression filled with a mischievous delight, chimed in with a cheerful hum. "I hope you'll enjoy it! And if not, I'll take care of that woman."

"That won't be necessary, Douma," you flashed him a smile while accepting the bowl from Akaza.

The aroma of the stew wafting up to your nose, making your mouth water in anticipation. You reached for the spoon, scooping up a mouthful of the warm, hearty stew and savoring the flavors. "It's delicious, Douma-sama. I've never had a better stew in my life."

With a nod, Douma uttered, "You are welcome, my dear! Only the best for you."

Akaza couldn't help but roll his eyes in response to the facade of false happiness.

You gave Akaza a look. "Hmm?"

"Nothing," he replied softly, a sense of relief evident in his voice. He tenderly pressed a kiss to your temple, his affectionate gesture bringing comfort and reassurance. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. Now, eat. We've also got some medicine for you, but it's important to eat first."

"Thank you," you put the bowl on your lap and reached your hand out to caress Akaza's cheek.

Douma rested his head on your shoulder, his voice filled with a playful tone. "Hey, I deserve some love too! After all, I did help as well."

You delicately traced your fingertips along Douma's sharp jawline, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. "Of course you did, my lord. I owe you my life. Both of you, actually."

He nodded and kissed your fingers gently.

Akaza, nestled against your shoulder, succinctly expressed their sentiments, "We love you deeply and fear losing our beloved human."

"Well, you can always turn me into a demon!" You suggested.

Douma's face lit up with sudden excitement, his head nodding eagerly in agreement.

"No!" Akaza's voice boomed with a deep growl. "You deserve better than this way of life."

"But at least I wouldn't get cold so often... You two don't get sick at all," you remarked, finishing your meal.

In an instant, Douma found himself on the verge of speaking, but before any words could escape his lips, Akaza swiftly decapitated him without hesitation.

"You deserve better than this existence. We love you just the way you are. Being immune to illness is a bonus, but there are many hardships," Akaza explained, his voice filled with conviction.

Douma's head regenerated smoothly, returning him to his complete form. Despite the shocking turn of events, he couldn't help but voice his complaint. "Akaza-dono! That was incredibly rude!" He whined, expressing his discontent with a hint of petulance.

You whimpered as the sticky, warm fluid dripped down on your cheek after the blow aimed to Douma's head, your body recoiling from the sensation. You looked up, locking eyes with Akaza, who seemed unfazed by the chaos he's caused. "What the hell, Akaza?! You didn't have to do that!" You screamed at him, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

The pool of blood around Douma seemed to be growing larger by the second, soaking your bed, and you couldn't help but feel sickened by the sight.

"Knowing him, he was about to blurt out something foolish, as usual," Akaza remarked with a cold tone, observing Douma's futile attempts to fix his disheveled hair. "I am perfectly fine," Douma interjected, shaking his head with a playful grin. "No need to fret, my love. I remain as beautiful as ever."

"You messed up my bed..." You grunted with disgust. "I'm going to vomit!" And with that, you ran to the bathroom.

Akaza chuckled at the thought of you wanting to become a demon and rose from his seat to change the sheets.

Douma let out a sigh and joined in, deciding to lend a hand. By the time you returned, a set of fresh sheets awaited you, a silent gesture of their care and consideration.

"Boys. I'm feeling better already. You don't have to stay here. The sun will rise soon."

"You still need to drink the medicine," Akaza remarked.

Douma gave a slight shrug, his gaze filled with mischief. "You're not wrong. We could simply cover the windows and spend the day... in bed," he purred, his voice laced with suggestive undertones.

You found yourself nodding along to Douma's suggestion, despite the wary look in Akaza's eyes. "Okay, let's try it. Akaza, can you please give me the medicine?"

Complying with your request, Akaza swiftly returned, presenting you with a brimming cup of an unidentified liquid.

"It stinks," you groaned in disgust.

"Sometimes, the bitterest medicine is the most effective remedy," Douma murmured softly, his voice carrying a gentle reassurance. "But don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle."

You took a deep breath before tipping the glass back, swallowing the medicine in one gulp. The taste was acrid, and it burned your throat as it went down. You gagged and coughed, feeling like your whole body was on fire. "God, this tastes awful," you groaned, handing the empty glass back to Akaza.

"You did exceptionally well," Douma praised, his gentle touch caressing your back. "You're such a good girl!"

"Will you stay with me, boys?"

"Of course!" Douma nodded in agreement with Akaza's previous words. Without uttering a single sound, he gently nudged Akaza's side, guiding him to discreetly cover the windows.

You watched pink-haired closing to curtains as you climb in the bed and took comfortable position

The demon with rainbow eyes was the first to embrace you, his arms encircling your waist as he pulled you close.

"Don't think you can claim her all for yourself," Akaza growled, his own arms enveloping you protectively.

Douma's expression turned into a frown, yet he managed to offer Akaza a sly smile. "Oh? Worried she'll choose me in the end? Someone seems a bit jealous."

"Boys, please," you whispered, giving them both a few strokes to their cheeks. "Behave."

Akaza whispered softly, drawing you nearer to him. "It's difficult when he's in such proximity," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of longing and unease. "He's just too close."

"Akaza, darling, you know I appreciate Douma's presence as much as I appreciate yours."

Douma let out a scoff, leaning in to nuzzle against you. Despite the display of affection, his actions seemed to provoke a tense response from Akaza. In an attempt to soothe his companion, Douma gently hummed and proceeded to pat Akaza's head, further exacerbating his tension. "There, there, Akaza-dono."

You giggled, looking at Douma. "You can be so charming when you want."

"I am always charming, my darling," he proclaimed, his voice dripping with self-assuredness. Yet, his confidence was abruptly shattered when Akaza sank his teeth into his hand, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Don't... touch me," the pink-haired demon growled, his teeth clenching even harder.

"Akaza! Apologize to Douma for biting him!" Came your admonishing voice, demanding restitution for the offense committed.

"Yes! Apologize to me!" Douma chimed in, an offended tone lacing his words.

Akaza scoffed, dismissively brushing off the notion. "In your dreams, Douma," he retorted, his disdain palpable in the air.

You gently tapped Akaza's forehead. "Do it, please?"

"Never," Akaza snapped, his voice laced with determination. "I would never trust him. He would gladly devour you, and I refuse to be blind to his feigned emotions."

You shivered and moved closer to Akaza, looking at Douma over your shoulder.

Akaza pressed himself against you, nuzzling affectionately and applying a gentle squeeze.

Douma, expressing annoyance, drew nearer and enveloped you in a hug as well. "Ignore Akaza-dono's remark, I would never consume you. Is your fever resurfacing, my dear?"

"I think it's coming back."

"Allow me to assist you," Douma murmured softly, his icy cold hand gently resting upon your forehead.

In response, a contented hum escaped your lips, prompting a smile to grace Akaza's face. "Well, well. It seems you have some utility, icicle."

Douma's brows furrowed in mock annoyance. "I shall conveniently ignore that remark," he retorted.

"Boys, please, behave... It feels so good, though," you mumbled, snuggling with both Akaza and Douma.

The two demons exchanged glances, silently acknowledging their shared goal of ensuring your swift recovery. For the moment, they chose to remain quiet, allowing you the peaceful rest you needed.

As you shifted to your other side, your embrace found its way to Douma, seeking comfort and solace in his presence. In a surprising display of unity, both demons disregarded their mutual animosity and embraced you, their shared desire to see you regain your strength overriding any personal differences.

In that moment, nestled in their caring arms, they resolved to do whatever it took to expedite your healing. The intensity of their mutual commitment surpassed their inherent disdain for each other, highlighting the depth of their concern and love for you.

Despite the complexities of their relationship, their focus remained unwavering: your well-being. They vowed to provide the support and care you needed, disregarding any animosity or rivalry that might have existed between them.

In the face of adversity, their shared dedication became a powerful force, driving them to put aside their differences and work together for your sake. They understood that healing required unity and cooperation, and they were determined to deliver just that.

With you nestled between them, they offered their combined warmth and comfort, a symbol of their unwavering commitment to your recovery. It was a moment where their shared purpose eclipsed any animosity, and their collective efforts would serve as a testament to their deep affection for you.

As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, enveloped in their embrace, they silently vowed to do everything in their power to ensure your swift return to health. The demons were united by their love for you, and they were willing to set aside their differences to see you restored to full vitality once more.

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