#i had a dream about self harm last night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 10 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt. 56)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: In the wake of Namjoon’s rut you and Hobi try to get yourself back on even footing, if only his co workers weren’t so...creepy towards you.

Tags: Depression, anxiety, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, excessive babying, courting, omegaspace, mommy kink, Mommy! Tae, nipple play, m/c sucks on tae’s tits for mental health reasons, Non-detailed sexual content, mentioned omegaspace sex, discussions of past abuse, discussions of mental health issues, eating disorder recovery, implied self-harm

W/c: 9.7k

A/N: LISTEN, i know the nipple play stuff might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it reads very comforting if you’re willing to give it a chance. That being said it may go further into the realm of mommy kink than some of you are willing to go and toes the line into extreme kink as it highly sexualizes Tae’s brests and the m/c in omegaspace. It's not really nursing per say cuz there isn’t any milk involved, but the m/c does suck on tae’s breasts to soothe herself.

I tried to make it as ‘skippable’ as possible it’s under the section ‘Tae, sometime at night’ I firmly encourage you to skip it if you feel the need too.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(16 days post rut. The day after Halloween, Yoongi)

Yoongi lets out an inhuman screech.

He’s holding his sweater in his hands, nude from the waist up interrupted by his changing. Staring at you open-mouthed while Jungkook rolls in the remnants of your nest. Remnants- because you honestly hadn't put it together much after Namjoon's rut.

You’ve been spending the last few weeks slowly bringing everything upstairs, alternating between sleeping spots, not a single one of them still feels right. The pack had kept their mattress in the living room, but yours they'd moved back. Last night you spent your first night upstairs with Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae. Four pups all cute and nesty with the rest of the Halloween candy between the three of you in multicolored bowls.

Yoongi had gotten to watch as you all giggled and completely abused the projector he’d installed for a movie night of the Addams family and some horror movie that you'd changed in the first 15 minutes.

There are more and more moments where he gets to appreciate his hard work these days and he savors them whenever he can. He’d been a little worried that the bed would be too big or too small but it looks just the right size. Just enough space for the others.

After you’d fallen asleep, he’d carefully tiptoed around you and removed the bowls of candy, kissing each of your heads like a special spell to guard your dreams against monsters and cousin it.

Now Jungkook grins up from the last little bit of the nest that’s still down here, hugging a pillow to his chest, “I knew something happened.” It’s not often Yoongi squeaks, like a cat suddenly picked up, heart all in a tizzy just thinking about it.

“What do you mean you and Hobi kissed? And you didn’t tell me!?”

You go red ear to ear, “It wasn’t-I don’t even think he meant to do it- it wasn’t like a kiss kiss-“

“Ahh,” Jungkook drags out the syllable. Reaching for your hand and tugging you to sit. Closer, because Jungkook’s wandering fingers have half a mind of their own. You look so good- have been honestly glowing a bit since Namjoon’s rut, something about the health of you that makes him want to touch more and more.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs appreciatively and you squirm away, “Heat of-the-moment kisses are so hot- not to mention first kisses.”

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed. Knees pulled together. “Tell me everything.”

Yoongi has always been terribly involved in your dating life in the beginning you'd gushed to him about every new kiss. The ones with Jk, a memory now as he drags his mouth up your waist, resting his cheek against the curve of your hips and smiling up at you. The one with Tae in that dressing room, your first soft moments with Jin and Namjoon. Everything. The fact that he hadn't heard about this one immediately after the fact stings only a little,

The rest is clouded over with excitement.

Hobi had initiated kisses. He’d been the one to break first.

Yoongi remembers how their relationship began with coyly phrased jabs said over dusty records not long after he'd broken up with his last pack and moved in. When they’d gone from best friends to sort of roommates and started spending almost every minute together.

Yoongi liked Hoseok. Just liked him. Liked seeing him smile. Heart skipping beats and saving them for him. Spending hours standing just far enough apart with some sleazy jazz playing over the loudspeakers and Hobi’s lips all mischievous. Their first kiss hanging there, on the edge, just where Yoongi could see it but not have it just yet. Teasing him endlessly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me Hoseok,"

"You'll know when I'm flirting hyung."

Hobi had turned off the jazz and turned on Yoongi’s favorite music instead and Yoongi had been substantially wooed just by that.

Hobi had been shy with the rest of the pack. Freer with Yoongi he said, because he always knew where he stood with him. Not like with the other alphas where Hobi had to worry about showing his throat or not- or Jungkook and Jin- where he had to worry if he has too dominant or not dominant enough. Their firsts had felt truly new, untied of expectations. Just loving. None of the other stuff.

Sometimes, Hobi still feels this way.

Now Yoongi watches you and knows how it feels, the way your eyelashes flutter as you look down and away, flopping back against the nest scent going sweet with the memory of it. "I bet it was so hot-" Koo chimes kicking his feet when he rolls onto his tummy and continues to pinch at your thighs, hand sliding up gradually under your baggy pajama shorts. Tickling the hairs there.

"Hobi’s such a good kisser too-“ The omega swoons and your belly swoops at the sound.

Yoongi licks his lips, trying not to think of it.

"It wasn't hot, it wasn't anything-" But the blush on your cheeks tells a different story. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "I shouldn't have said anything." Yoongi gently pries your hands away from your face. His heart is racing a mile a minute like it's his first kiss and not yours.

"Even if it was something, I’d still be happy sweetheart.”

You bite your cheek; I just want to know if he regrets it. “I can’t ask him about it or I’ll make it weird.” You whine.

Jungkook’s fingers press into your chin, he looks awfully devilish, hair damp from a shower, his classes for the day passed. “You’ve been thinking about it a lot. That’s why you’ve been so quiet.”

You flush, but not for the reason he thinks.

The truth is you’ve been spending a lot more time on your own these days, painting the back-room space and finding excuses to head upstairs when everyone’s home, or downstairs when everyone goes up. There’s no reason. You tell yourself there’s no reason but-

Sometimes it’s hard, being sad without a cause. A gnawing emptiness like there's no point in enjoying anything anyways when sooner or later the rug will be yanked out from underneath you. A sense of a foreshortened future. An end that is simultaneously ridiculous to consider and yet nearby like a shadow in the corner of your eye that isn't there- not really.

Maybe it would be easier if you and Yoongi weren’t mated yet, and you’d have had that to look forward to. You’ve been thinking about mating marks a lot recently. Spending long hours looking at yours in the mirror, fingers hovering over the glass when you pull back blocking out parts of it with your fingertips. The parts that Geumjae left that you’ll never be able to quite get rid of.

You asked Jin about his and Namjoon’s the other day- but the omega had only sighed and told you not to worry about it.

You eagerly snap up the excuse handed to you now. It's better having them assume than explaining the real reason to them. For the most part, they believe you. Like there isn’t that taught line of something running through you like the very essence of you wants to snap. A discomfort at being happy.

A feeling like maybe, you don't deserve it.

If there is anything you deserve it’s certainly not Hobi’s smile when he comes home and asks you if you’ll help him move a few more plants in from outside. “You’ve got a good eye” he tells you. “I swear without you and Tae this place would look like a bachelor pad”

Hobi hasn’t been avoiding you since the rut but maybe it would be easier if he was.

He’s no less likely to ask you for late-night car rides, no less likely to bump shoulders with you playfully over dishes or offer you his headphone when he found you dozing two nights ago on the outdoor furniture. Your big blue blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders to keep out the fall chill.

He’d even accepted you when you held back the edge for him to get under. The warmth from his body trapped by it and transferred to yours as you talked. Mostly about Hobi’s job; his plans to leave early and help manage a specialty order from the city; nearly three thousand burgundy roses for a fall wedding.

“How do you even fit that many into a car?”

“Very, very carefully”

Last night as the pack had handed out Halloween candy, He’d been giggly and close. Eager to pick your favorite candy out of the bowl of bulk-bought candy bars and set them aside for you. He’d even given you a pair of little devil ears, similar to the halo on Tae’s head, a vision in a light pink dress that she’d been just itching to wear. The only one truly dressed up, the only one with the energy to go all out.

The fabric was soft and silky with cutouts for her body, which had you looping your hands around her waist at every available opportunity and maybe kissing places hidden when you’d helped her undress later, hands sneaking underneath the fabric just to touch.

No one had time to plan their outfits or decorate the house because of Namjoon’s rut. You improvised with eyeliner lined and drawn whiskers on Yoongi’s cheeks, grumbling half-heartedly as Tae dotted his nose with bright pink blush and attached a pair of cat ears to his head.

The one person who hadn’t escaped Hobi’s costumes was Noddle, hissy in his little black and yellow bee costume, you’d given him tuna as a special treat. The neighborhood kids had ooohd and ahhed at him in the window, grumpily guarding your house from any intruders.

It’s funny, noodle only hisses at the people dressed up as other cats.

Independent from your musings, your packmates hover on the edge of the bed. “who says you can’t ask him? Just talk to him-“ Yoongi tries to convince you.

"We can ask him for you!" Both of them pop up, their eyes all wide, matching black heads all fuzzy, your mate bobs his head, the picture of polite eagerness.

"Oh fuck no- You'll do no such thing-"

“Come on, let us play matchmaker with you."

A loud ring interrupts your conversation, coming from deep within the confines of your nest. It’s Yoongi's phone- discarded. Jungkook grins as he answers for him, smirking all the while.

"Hyung! We were just talking about you- No it's fine, Joonie forgot his lunch too-" Jungkook playfully shoves away Yoongi’s hand reaching for his phone. He pauses as Hobi says something on the other line.

Jungkook’s grin is nothing if not scheming.

"Yoongi's busy right now," he licks his lips, eyes on you. Yoongi is certainly not busy, the only thing he had planned for today was bringing Namjoon his lunch, another stop is hardly too much.

"But Y/n's free, I’ll have her drop it off. Bye, hyung. Love you too hyung."

~-~

Hobi is drawn to the front room of the flower shop because it’s his break time, someone forgot the last box of roses out back, and also because one of his coworkers is shouting again.

It's a semi-normal occurrence by any standard of measurement, but still, the sound of his shrill voice shouting in protest is just as grating as the feeling of dirt under Hobi’s fingernails.

They're sensitive and pricked too, he's spent the better part of the morning prepping the red roses, bundles, and bundles of them. The last one

He pauses, ignoring the commotion for as long as he can to take a sip of water, The cold drips down his throat, soothing the heat there. It might be cold at night but the lot out back is still unforgiving in the autumn sunlight, the occasional breeze telling stories of knit blankets and cozy sweatpants that Hobi will need within the month. He can’t wait for it to get colder.

The flower shop is structured in layers. The breakroom with the cubbies, a dilapidated old fridge, and a small table directly off the lot. A narrow hallway connects it first to the stock room and then to the counter and the retail space out front. The commotion comes from the stock room. The sound of a box falling over with a loud clang and then the softer sound of people arguing in hushed tones.

Three of his coworkers- two of which are the same ones who don't like him- shove each other to get through the door. One holding around the other middle.

"No, I've got this one-" Hobi stoops to pick up a roll of orange-red ribbon, half unrolled on the dusty floor.

"Come on- I took the granny for you this morning you owe me-"

"You're an omega, Felix."

"So? Like being a horndog is a uniquely alpha affliction?"

"Too late!" The third one darts through the door. Unencumbered by the other's scuffle. Tossing a kiss over his shoulder at the other two. Their frustrated groans resounding a hissed whisper. "Chan! You've already got an omega you don't need two-”

At his appearance, both of his coworkers straighten up. "What’s all the fuss about?" he asks with a tired sigh. Not that he really wants to make conversation with them about what client they're thirsting over this week. Hobi has never joined in with them, their near-running commentary on who comes into the shop.

“A pretty client.” It's nothing new, but what is new is the way that Hyunjin rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Pretty is not a word reserved for the hottest omega I’ve seen this year- she looks like Kate Moss and Zendaya had a love child with an angel-" he swoons, Hobi sighs and pushes through them to put the ribbon back on its holder. They probably knocked it off in their scuffle, his two coworkers practically fall through the door after him.

Hobi blinks.

It's just you, standing in the doorway looking at the hanging epiphytes and other little suncatchers that hand in the flower shop windows. You’re wearing one of Tae's big sweaters that fall to your upper thigh and a pair of semi-translucent leggings. When your hands go up to touch a suncatcher Hobi can tell you’re wearing shorts underneath, but the implication that you might be not is still there. There’s A little bit of flour on your front from whatever you were baking today.

The first thing he notices is a band-aid on your finger.

His sleazy coworker lays it on thick, leaning over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. You don’t seem to realize that he’s snuck up on you. Hobi watches as you flinch and step back, clutching a small pink package to your chest. Turning around quick.

Hobi swallows back a growl. Instincts grating.

"Can I help you find anything beautiful?” he drawls, casting you a dazzling grin that Hobi's sure has gotten him many first date.

"I was just-" Hobi drops a bouquet of roses into a nearby bucket with a loud thud. Your eyes shoot up, and Hobi sees the visceral way your shoulders relax, the way you instantly brighten.

"Hey! I got your lunch."

Hobi's coworkers splutter. Gazes darting between you and Hobi like they can’t make sense of it. “What?!" One of them hits him on the shoulder playfully like they're friends and Hobi's jaw ticks. "Yeah, Hobi what the fuck-"

Hobi's fingers are still on the roses as he looks at you, he doesn't tear his eyes away for a second, "She's my newest packmate," they've got a good sense to be embarrassed to try and recoup the situation.

“Oh- we didn't think Hobi could have such pretty packmates."

Oh, you don't like that one bit.

Your switch flips, Hobi sees you make the conscious decision to turn on the part of yourself that can be very charming, that makes his alpha ask ‘how high?’ if you even think about asking him to jump. You're very good at playing this game, encouraging their instincts out in just a few words.

You step closer looping your arm through Hobi's (He swears he won't be thinking about it later, how you push your body up against his just so, the faint warmth of your chest surrounding his upper arm, your fingers weakly tangling through his) You tilt your mating mark into the light so that they see it. tucking your hair behind your ear like you’re shy. your sleeve falls down, leaving your scent gland open to the bear air.

"You've obviously never met Jin then.” You pout up at him in mock distress, making it as cute as possible. “but- I would have thought he'd have told you all about me what with the car I gave him."

Hobi doesn’t believe your sudden sniffle for a second even though his face heats. And renewed incredulity hits their faces, near devastation that their written-off coworker has a packmate like this.

You blink back faux tears, “Did you not like it?” there is nothing cuter than a pretty pouty omega near crying because they think they've disappointed their alpha. Nothing that tugs on their instincts quite like this.

The men blink dumbly. This creature- is surely representative of another life, one that they hadn’t imagined for their coworker. Surely when they called Hobi a sugar baby, this isn’t what they had in mind.

"He talks about it so much!"

"I swear everyone slows down when they see it which is why the boss lets him park it out front."

"It's a really pretty car like really pretty," Felix says, eyes definitely not on your face but oh well.

Hobi grasps his little lunchbox hard, wrapped up in one of Tae's pink patterned silk scarves. Too intimidated to respond. You have them wrapped around your fingers in just a few words.

"Show me the flowers?" you offer, clearly done conversing with them, Hobi takes the easy out without a look in his coworkers’ direction.

The slick of the refrigerator doors slides close, blocking out the three of them clearly peering in. Your closeness is disguised by the condensation on the glass. Let them think something more of the way you stand close.

The mask falls in a second and where one moment you’d looked forcefully cute, the next, you just look tired.

"You're a menace."

You huff, wrapping your arms around your waist. "Only when I need to be"

"You didn't have to do that." He says because he doesn't know exactly what to say. How to express that he’s thankful without making it weird. Now that you've stepped away from the others there’s something vaguely wilted about you, something still. He’s noticed the last few days, since Namjoon’s rut if he’s being honest.

The truth is, nothing's been normal after Namjoon's rut.

The first day after Namjoon’s rut you’d avoided each other's company like the plague, fielding Namjoon’s numerous apologies and in general clingy behavior. But after a day or two you'd reached an unspoken agreement to just forget everything that had happened just like Jimin and Tae.

(That's a lie. Jimin and Tae have slept on opposite sides of every bed they've slept in in the last week.)

Hobi’s not sure why he thinks that there's something wrong, why he finds himself watching you and waiting. Measuring your plate at dinner for maybe the first time in weeks. Watching you when you cook, just…. keeping an eye on you in a way he might not have before.

Is it just him, or have you seemed less interested in cuddling and nesting as usual? There's something in you that just wants to get the nest in the upstairs over and done with and back to normal. Hobi had watched while he'd helped bring the countless blankets up there, every one of your movements rehearsed and perfunctory.

And yesterday, he’d walked into your room (your old room he should call it) And found you and Yoongi deep in conversation, sitting on the edge of your bed. And when Hobi had asked Yoongi had just said, “We’re gonna keep the nest in here for a few more days.” You'd ended up turning your bed around and tucking it into the wall by your dresser, making room for Tae's makeup desk.

At first, He thought that maybe he’d hurt you with his leaving. That you took it as an ultimate rejection of not only your friendship but your presence in the pack. But it seems like you’re as determined as he is to keep things as they were before. To act as though your relationship is just as it was. Just this. packmates that bring each other lunch and give each other cars and definitely step closer to make Hobi's nosey coworkers a little jealous.

Strange. All of it feels strange like deja vu. There’s a familiar stillness that he hasn’t seen in you in months really, not since late spring. Since before you started talking again only this time he's seeing the process in reverse.

You tap the lunch box with your fingertips, a faint flush coming to your cheeks, “Yoongi made it for you, not me.”

“Does it matter?” you flush harder, skin heating under his raised eyebrow,

“Yes.”

Hobi thinks your hands might be shaking a little bit when you gesture to the shelves piled high with flowers and buckets. "Which ones are your favorite anyway?" you ask, classic misdirection.

A few weeks ago Hobi had convinced his boss to order the flowers by color and not type to make arranging and picking out designs easier. Granted, Hobi is her most talented employee and the one she trusts most to handle their big-budget items like weddings and funerals so it was a relatively short argument.

This refrigerator is a mess of cream pinks, whites, and yellows. The big dinner plate-sized sunflowers hovering around your knees, and the dusty roses at the ceiling.

He points at the simple daisies, is it just his imagination, or do you make your giggle just a little bit louder, leaning into his arm. Hobi swears one of his coworkers is going to burst a blood vessel with how hard he's trying to contain his screech of indignation. You just grin and roll your eyes.

“Are you trying to make my life easier or harder?” He can’t stop his smile though, no matter how much he wants to.

“A bit of both probably.” You lean in close, the way an omega would to an alpha they were flirting with. Let them wonder what we’re saying, let them wonder what I mean by this. Your fingers dance over a nearby bucket, skimming the velvet soft blooms, “I would have pinned you for a Lily type of guy."

Hobi fingers one of the long stems, playing with it too. "Nah, these are Jungkook’s favorite, not mine." Hobi's shy when it comes to you, but still, he musters up the courage to take a spare bloom of daisy and tuck it behind your ear.

"As a thank you, for my lunch. Jungkook shouldn’t have made you come all the way here."

You shrug, "It’s no big deal. I- ugh- i put a few chocolates in there, the coconut ones." You might have noticed Hobi grabbing some last night, and he gravitated toward those in the big bowl of Halloween candy. Seeking out the little blue packages.

"I like those," he says, but you already know that.

There’s a loud crash, and when you look back Hobi’s coworkers have knocked one of the dysplays over in their quest for a better vantage point. they scramble to put it back together and look busy like they weren’t watching you.

Chan gives him a thumbs up and Hobi scoffs.

“I’m sorry for them.” He says, “They’re kind of always like this,” his jaw ticks. Some alphas have no manners.

You shrug, “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Are those the same ones that say shit about you behind your back?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate for a moment, standing toe to toe with him. “We should give them something else to talk about then.” Hobi’s hands are hard on the lunch box.

You step closer. Your worn boots brushing his sneakers as you lean up on your tippy toes. The scent mark looks more intimate that it is as you lightly drag your cheek down Hobi's neck. You know how to make it look sensual.

His caramel scent and your baked one together smell like flan or maybe something vaguely that belongs in the family of a Snickers bar, sparking hot and heady. Filling the refrigerator with it and the smell of flowers. He catches your waist, alarmed but not entirely displeased.

It has the desired effect.

Hobi sees the other alphas, the way their egos deflate. Tail tucked between their legs. Immediately looking dejected. Hobi barely has time to process your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck, the way you sway closer before you're darting away.

He catches you just before you pass back through the refrigerator doors (you should know better than to run from an alpha, there's hardly anything more exciting than the prospect of a chase). A real giggle fills the small space making the other 3 perk up. Hobi can’t stop himself from smiling even if he feels a little dizzy.

He catches your hand, tugging you a little bit back. “Hang out with me? Later?”

The stillness in you eases just a little, and your smile is twice as bright as the sunflowers. “Sure.”

He lets your hand go even though he doesn't want to, even though you could eat together. He imagines it; sitting in his car, Yoongi’s parked out front, you in his passenger seat having a few of those chocolates. But you have no reason to stay and keep him company through his lunch break.’

Hobi is too shy to ask.

Before you pass through the door you pause, looking at the suncatchers that hang by the windows again. Reaching out a finger to touch one so that rainbows swirl through the room. The sun's light misdirected to spill and swirl in a dizzying display of color. The door clangs closed with a faint jingle.

He sets his hand over the back of his hot neck. Heart thundering, something in his instincts relaxes by having you out the door and away from his other...competitors. They instantly descend on him, badgering him with countless questions.

“I didn’t know you could pull like that hyung," "How did you even meet?" does she have a sister?" "Does she have a favorite type of nesting supplies?”

Hobi shoots that last one a glare. "I think she's got everything she needs in that department." he says tightly.

He’d have thought your mating mark would be enough of a deterrent. The fact that it isn’t makes him even more annoyed if that's possible. They don’t get a single answer out of him- just the freezer door closed and locked in their faces. He sits there to eat his lunch, glaring at them through the foggy doors.

When he opens his lunchbox, he sees that you've shoved 7 chocolates into a space that should only logically fit 5. Rows of sliced meat and a dollop of sauce over rice in the shape of a heart. A sandwich just the way he likes it, cut-up fruit too, probably a whole pint of Strawberries cut into little hearts.

(The other alphas don't stand a chance.)

~-~

(Tae, Some time later)

Autumn brings with it lazy nights and the need for more blankets. You often find yourself curled up on the couch in Tae's room. Alternating between watching the autumn rain drip from the eves, going on tic-tock, napping, and watching Tae work at her desk. Sometimes on work nights, she's got her hair set into little pin curls, or a face mask on.

It's kind of silly that you can spend just hours watching her but you are that in love.

Her typing is gentle, a companion to the pitter-patter of the rain and the tv in the other room. Someone talking, someone showering, the faint thump thump thump of your heart, noodle meowing to be let in from outside, homey domestic and Awfully lonely.

It’s silly, you shouldn’t feel alone with Tae right there.

You stir sometimes, stretching your feet out and yawning. Cheek resting on the pillow. "I can shut the light if you want" Tae says, recognizing the feeling like she's being watched. She doesn’t turn because she knows it's you.

"No, I'm not tired" but the slow rising of your chest says something different. You've let the blanket slip off of you a little bit, folding your body onto her small couch fitting just barely. She rolls herself over to you to fix it and tuck it around your feet. Then goes back to writing.

"You've been typing one thing for a long time now”

Tae hums, agreeing. Pausing for a second and going back to delete one sentence and replacing it with another before her cursor moves on stepping in time with the clack of her fingers. She's gone with a shorter manicure this time to make typing easier, smooth little almonds that flash like fish scales. Pretty and pearlescent.

“You were writing the same thing yesterday and the day before that too. Is it a story?" you ask. Tae likes how you always ask that first, is it a story or a poem, by stanza or by prose. Which part of your soul are you working on today? is it more comfort or a bit of hurt?

Her fingers hesitate, "it is." She admits. “I’ve got like, maybe 30,000 words of it written already but yeah, it’s a story.”

“You don't write stories often."

she tips her head in agreement. "What could I add to the world you know? there are so many good books out there," she sighs heavily, "But-" she trails off, eyes full of faraway faces and a love that maybe feels a little bit like yours and Hobi’s. She always was better at catharizing her emotions about their relationships by comparing them to others. Namjoon and Jin are all Claire and Jamie. Yoongi and Hobi Westley and Buttercup.

But You and Hobi are something different. Maybe she took hobi's advice and found another outlet for her feelings about you two rather than get involved. then again, the main male character is actually a lot more like jungkook sometimes when he speaks.

Bits and pieces of Tae’s loves and muses are all over the story, but the main character? She’s all you.

"What's different about this one?" You ask, hair spilling over your shoulders in an uninterrupted tangle that has Tae itching for a brush. You'd tried her pin curls out a few nights ago but had complained about the pinching so Tae quiets the part of herself that wants to use you as her own mini dress-up doll.

"Usually my emotions are brief, but" she presses her palm to her chest, "I have all this pain here. All of this pain and all of these thoughts and I don't think I know what to do with it besides write it down." You pull yourself up and closer to her, phone slipping out of your lap and sliding onto the carpeted floor. But Tae’s smile is already comforting even if it is a little sad.

She wheels herself over again and presses her lips to yours, your needy fingers almost instantly find her waist, the way you grab at her when you want to cuddle. Tae knows your body language so well.

"It’s not something you can make better darling," she says, and she means it, the way she looks at you means she means it. "But I think- I think giving it to other people might make it better, a little."

You lean your cheek into her palm, sleepily sighing. "What’s it about?"

Tae launches into the beginning, and the rest is history. She talks about her own story the same way that she talks about the books she reads. Fast and excited, like it's right there in front of her eyes on a movie screen.

“It starts with a library- only it’s not like a normal library. This library is kind of magic-”

~-~

(Namjoon, 7 days after rut)

In the wake of Namjoon's rut, all of the alphas have been feeling their instincts a little more keenly; this has expressed itself in only one behavior one that you didn't think you'd see the return of after it had sort of calmed down at the beginning of your relationship.

You don’t know how to feel about the fresh return of the courting presents.

But with the nest upstairs, you suppose that you don't mind the veritable collection of new nesting pillows, blankets, and specially made Egyptian cotton sheets for your Alaskan king-sized mattress- courtesy of Jimin. In a variety of colors of course; black for his preference, and pink for Tae’s.

Namjoon doesn't like being one-upped by anyone. Although his gift takes several more days to arrive and set up. (Yoongi stayed up the night before with Namjoon to help set it up because Namjoon is notoriously bad about any sort of home improvement let alone when there's an Allen wrench and six pages of instructions involved)

You giggle as Namjoon's fingers tamp over your eyes. He almost steps on the back of your heels with how close you're walking. "Here, there's a wall" You reach out and help him lead you so that the surprise isn't spoiled. Bright shafts of light slip through his fingers.

"Joonie-"

"Here, step down- there you go pup. Here-"

Namjoon takes his hands from your eyes and resists the urge to bounce up and down, your wide blinks, your suddenly sweet scent all of it, soothing to the cloying discomfort of instincts not expressed in his chest. Lips parted into a cute little oh.

You're in the backroom, the last coat of paint was finished yesterday and the pack has gone to work putting it together with the new velvet green couch and many of Hobi's plants. But what you don't expect is the item just left of the door.

The nesting couch, or more correctly nesting pod has high walls that peak at the top somewhat like an onion. The interior of it is upholstered with smooth non-irritating fabric and a thick cushion at the base and up part of the walls. a soft little bowl almost like a human-sized dog bed (a pup bed).

A small dark soft space, perfect for nesting. With a little curtain that you can zip closed, that should enswathe you entirely in darkness. The interior of it is Piled high with a new duvet and more than a dozen new pillows (all freshly scented) like a bowl of colorful candies. Some of them are vaguely stuffed animal shaped and a few actually are stuffed animals.

You blink down at the croissant and the cake, the disembodied blueberry.

“Jungkook might have helped me pick them out, he went a little over the top.” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s rut or a” he coughs, “first knotting present, I guess. As a thank you and an I’m sorry for biting you present.” Namjoon shifts back and forth, feeling vaguely nauseous but in a love-sick sort of way. “Do you like it?”

Nesting nooks are expensive gifts, this one alone must have been several thousand dollars. Although Namjoon's anxiety ticks higher as you continue to not say anything. Staring at it and blinking like you can’t believe it’s there. “I thought you could maybe, use a bit of space because of the upstairs, I know you’re used to nesting on your own.” Yoongi had told him about your need to keep your downstairs nest still set up. You know the second the sentence slips past his lips that they've talked about it, that Namjoon’s worried.

It's nothing personal you just, you feel like you might need a little spot, like Tae does for her library room, a little spot that's just yours. A spot for you to be quiet

And Namjoon's just given you it.

Your mouth twists and Namjoon tilts your jaw up to his so that he can duck in close and nose along your hairline. "Hey I didn't mean-"

You take the nearest cushion and crush it to your chest, this one the shape of a graham cracker. "I love it." Your gaze darts away, heart in your throat. "Can I? Try it out?"

Namjoon steps aside hastily, watching as you ease inside it. Pulling yourself into the dark cavern. it’s soft and comfy. protected in a way that has you instantly feeling hazy. Quiet and mostly scentless, the noises from outside Dampened, the feeling of everything butter soft beneath your fingers.

It's so safe here.

You start to knead a pillow, softly, the way that noodle might. Flopping over onto your side. Back against the cushion wall. Rolling a little in it. And a slow purring slowly fills the room, soft and first, and then stronger. You rub your scent across the border, making it smell like yours.

Namjoon drops to his knees and watches you. when he sticks out his hand you nuzzle into it, cheeks pink, scent omegaspace sweet. you chirp happily and he smiles down at you.

“There you go pup.”

~-~

(Tae, sometime at night)

(Content warning)

Namjoon isn’t the only one who's gotten you courting gifts recently.

Tae presents yours to you with pink cheeks, the small rectangle pretty when you unwrap it, green warn fabric, and embroidery on the cover.

It’s a copy of Alice and Wonderland, delicately illustrated with watercolor splotches of characters on every other page. It smells like vanilla the way that Jimin smells like vanilla, the musk of it soft and smooth.

The next time you get small and pupish Tae reads to you, her soft voice lulling you into a softer, smaller headspace. So fuzzy that you can’t feel your toes, mind dumbly repeating ‘mommy, mommy mommy’ with little else on your mind.

Page after page of pictures that your wide eyes follow without so much as a word, small whines when Tae pauses to see if you’ve fallen asleep yet tell her everything she needs to know about if it had been a good decision or not. the right gift.

Tae is the only alpha in the pack that can give you this, who can trigger omegaspace in you with as little as a raised eyebrow.

She has a fantastic reading voice. She and makes the voices of the white rabbit and the mad hare just funny enough to have you huffing soft giggly purrs.

It's not the last book she gets you. Far from it, over the next few weeks, you quickly fall into a routine: after dinner, she’ll find you in the nesting nook, in your room, or in the bathroom washing up. And she’ll pull you in the direction of the library room and produce another wrapped volume. Some of them illustrated and some not.

You’ll curl up together on the couch, one ear pressed to her heartbeat, another that inches to hear her words and a soft croons. Her hair tickling your forehead where it lingers, just around her shoulders. Grown out now and faster since she started to use a fancy hair serum.

There are other, slightly more scandalous times, when you squirm at certain parts, unable to find a properly soothed position. When you turn to nuzzle into her shoulder. Nosing along her collarbones and searching for something that makes Tae’s chest tight in all the best ways. Bright eyes glassy, too shy to ask for what you wanted.

What you needed.

The first time you’d face planted into her chest into her barely there but steadily growing tits. She’d laughed, the skin there new feeling and vaguely sensitive. Little white stretch marks shine like a silver lining over the hem of her lace top.

“You looking for something pup?” she’d teased, she wasn’t necessarily surprised after all, you hadn’t been looking at the book for a few minutes, watching her soft inhale and exhale. The faint imprint of her nipples under the shirt.

“Can- can I” you’d stuttered, words too hard for you to string together, looking down at Tae’s chest, fingers bunching up the fabric of her dove-colored night dress.

Being in omegaspace is easier than being totally up these days. Tae knows you need this, without saying why, something is going on in your head that seems too big for it, something that makes you listless and quiet when no one’s around. There’s a reason- there has to be.

her hand cups your cheek and directs your gaze to her face and not her chest, and you blush, having been caught looking. “Good pups use their words, honey, even if they’re feeling small and needy.”

You struggle when you pull back, sorting through your pupils brain is a difficult task when preoccupied with Tae, mommy, want, pretty, mommy alpha smells so nice, looks so safe.

“Can I- can I put my mouth on Mommy?” heat laces down her chest, a fire like none other that has her body growing warm everywhere you touch, the smooth line of your inner thigh pressed to hers, your stomach as you inhale to whine. You squirm away from the embarrassment of asking for something so taboo.

Her hand grips your waist, and you know you aren’t going anywhere.

“Take what you need pup.”

Her spaghetti straps are down around her shoulders before you can blink, dress rucked down to her rib cage. Her chest has swelled so prettily from the hormones her nipples little puffy peaks. She’s maybe a b cup at best but your mouth waters, a whine slipping from your lips without you trying to summon it.

Tae guides you to them with her hand threaded through the hair on the back of your head. Fingers rubbing soothingly against your scalp and oh

With Tae so close, you can smell all of her. It’s so natural when your mouth guides into a suck, Hot and gentle where she’s sensitive. Your nose nudges against her skin taking deep lungfuls of her scent, greedy in the way that you curl around her body. Your brain is truly quiet for the first time in months. Resting your head in the crook of her elbow.

Tae sighs and stretches out while you settle. It’s not exactly not sexual but intimate, the attention at her chest isn’t something that makes arousal stir in her stomach, not when it's like this. Sucking softly, never too hard, with the same pressure that you might mouth at a soft blackberry, lips teasing but only just teasing.

She picks back up the book and keeps reading, ignoring the way her breath hitches with every harder suck.

There is something about tucking your face close, hands tangling in her dress, that feels like the most natural expression of your dynamic. The way she pets over your shoulders and reads to you while you set down your heavy worries. Clinging to her until your fingers go slack and your sucking slows. Lips parting to let out soft sleepy breaths across her sensitive skin and Tae knows you’ve fallen asleep.

Tae is the only alpha who can give you this.

After the first time, all bets are off.

Tae often finds you tugging at her top at dinner time, fingers curious and needy on her ribcage, unwilling to touch where you need to under the gaze of so many other.

Bending under the need, the haze of omegaspace tugging at you, begging for the couch and her in the green room. It’s especially bad if she wears anything low-cut. You’re squirmy in her lap during movie nights, a little breathless any time she hugs you (she might be a little mean and tug you up so that you're face to face with the object of your desire)

You're more than a little nervous around the rest of the pack.

But she agrees this is a secret. A habit that should be just yours. Tae never would have said there would be anything too intimate to share with them after coming out but maybe this is.

One time and one time only does Jimin accidentally walk in on you,

Namjoon is close behind, she isn’t sure what their reasons are. Luckily your head is blocked by a blanket and Tae only has to hiss a “get out” for them to turn tail and run. Thankfully, they hadn’t prodded that much about it later.

It’s not always so innocent, sometimes Tae’s thigh presses up between your own guiding you into a slow grind or her fingers wander, gently parting your thighs and pressing up and under your sleep shorts. fingers curiously exoloring between your thighs insistent to taste your pleasure in the air and hear your needy moans.

But every time you stop sucking, she stops touching. leaves her fingers just there tugging on your clit or just around them. Caught between a rock and a hard place, as you keep going, looking up at her, hips jerking against her fingers. Your sucking near frantic as you cum and Tae's wicked smile and mean laugh above you as you gush and drip around her fingers. rubbing gently over your clit at the same rhythm which you suck.

Worse are the times that she says, “Mommy’s turn” with a smile on her face. Switching your positions entirely. Holding your wrists so that you can’t try and cover yourself as she licks and sucks with abandon. Rubbing your frustrated tears away with her thumbs as she sucks at your nipples until they’re bitten and sensitive. So sensitive that you feel them every time they rub against your shirt, constantly distracting you and reminding you of her touch.

There is something about you needy and squirmy in omegaspace, dripping messy all over her nightdress, upset and tearful at being teased for so long that makes Tae’s alpha purr, makes her almost addicted. Those moments usually end with her cumming over your tummy and you grinding one out against her face or her thigh and once, her tits.

She’s cum on yours before, had you hold up her skirt like a good girl, standing there with your nipples wet from her mouth to let her jack off all over you. listening to you babble about how pretty her cock looks, how beautiful she is, it never takes her long.

The walk of shame to the bathroom had drawn the stares of quite a few of your packmates, Jimin had nearly walked into a wall as Tae led you upstairs for a shower.

It's intoxicating being needed, being the bearer of your needy whines and these delicate moments. When one nipple gets too sensitive and Tae transfers you to another, cheeks pink, lips wet and kissable, tasting like Tae's skin when she leans down. fussy, unwilling to be parted from her for even a second.

Tae looks and feels her most beautiful with her chest sucked pink, nipples glossy from your mouth when you inevitably fall asleep like that. And Tae has to pull up her dress and call for one of the alphas to help carry you to the nest like you weren't just doing something so salacious

When you’re alone, and your fingers instantly gravitate towards the buttons on her blouse, needy whines mean only one thing as you struggle to unfasten the buttons. Fingers clumsy from your wanting.

"My sweet little pup, so cute and needy for mommy that you can't even wait for a second, what am I going to do with you?"

~-~

(Hobi, the same day as before)

Not many people use the beach this late in the season. The businesses on the boardwalk are half-boarded up now that the tourist rush is over and half of the lights are empty and vacant of their usual neon splendor.

But maybe if Yoongi were here, he’d say that this is the way that you and Hobi flirt. With jabs back and forth like crashing waves. Jests of Are you tired yet? and not at all as you run and giggle, splashing through the dark waves. Happy and zoomy in the way that dogs get when you give them wide open spaces to run. Until the late hour drags your bones down and exhaustion makes you giggly and innocent. The way you and Hobi maybe never get to be when you’re not alone with each other.

But you can trust him, with your sensitive parts and your darkness too.

The beach is quiet at night, the hem of your pajama pants soaked 3 inches up from the cold water. Your shoes sit discarded in the sand and the cold salt air tickles your forehead and your bare toes. A pair of headphones between the two of you tangle in the sand like a string of fate. You bob your head to Hobi’s most recent favorite song and shiver.

Hobi notices and starts to shuck off his jacket, thick sweatshirt balmy underneath. You make a noise in protest but he doesn’t listen. His next words a mess in the middle of so much base, “I’ve got more meat on my bones than you do.”

You take his headphone out of your ear. “You sure?”

“Yeah,”

You ease into the warmth like it’s what you’ve been waiting for, and Hobi pulls himself closer to you to block the wind. You know you'll smell like him tomorrow morning, that the others will hover and breathe deep, appreciating your combined scents.

The moon is bright tonight, casting everything in shimmery pools of silver. You can see him in near-perfect blue-grey detail. It’s what drew you out tonight, the promise of an extra high tide and the glittering splendor of the ocean on a full moon. The drag of waves has the same tempo as Hobi’s soul, the tide higher than usual.

You fold the sleeves over your hands in the semi-darkness and it strikes him as oddly fragile, the way you curl in on yourself. One second happy and zoomy, and the next almost conservative. Like you think you won’t have enough joy for later. Your happiness reseeding like a tide.

Hobi turns his knees to the side. "You've been acting different since the rut." Was it me? Was I the one who made you look a little smaller, a little sadder than you were yesterday? You deflate at his words and Hobi struggles. “Not weird! It’s not bad I’m just-” worried- so fucking worried.

“Was it the alphas today?” he trails off, unsure of what he's asking.

You turn towards him, shoulders resting against the sand. All rocks made small, and time and energy that's made boulders movable. The sand curves to the shape of your body. Your cradle and your grave.

"No- your coworkers were fine just-" You shrivel your nose at the stars, maybe fate is taking notes. "Alphas, you know?"

"Hey, I’m an alpha too." He pushes at your shoulder playfully, trying to make the mood lighter so that you’re more likely to tell him what's really wrong. There’s sand in your hair when you turn away hiding your small smile like the sliver of a crescent moon. He feels like he should have anticipated that and brought a blanket or at least a towel for you to lie on, if not to make you warmer than to at least make sure you didn’t get sand in your hair.

"Yeah, but you're one of the good ones."

He settles back against the sand, faintly warm from the sunshine still. At odds with the cold wind that whips at the two of you. “I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m just-“ your face twists with melancholy. “Tired.”

Tired. Hobi had found you dozing in the nesting nook tonight. Why had you slept there and not upstairs? You could have waited for him in either place- so why did you choose the one that made you alone? Why deny yourself the comfort at your fingertips?

Hobi swallows, “do you want to head back?”

Your eyelashes flutter whisper soft against your cheek, your voice thick like you might be about to cry. But you can tell Hobi these things, the restless half-exhaustion of not knowing when it will get easier, the exhaustion of having to try so hard for so long and still feel like you haven't gotten anywhere.

“I don’t think it’s the kind of tired that sleep can fix Hobi.”

Hobi blinks back the tightening in his chest like someone has stretched a rubber band around his lungs, pulling himself up so that you’ve got to look at him and see the sincerity in his face.

"You don't have to be okay you know. You don't have to, it would be okay if you weren't. We'd make it okay."

You swallow and it takes you a long time to answer, long enough that Hobi gets a little worried. You pick up the sand and let it fall through your hand. Dry, movable, changing. When the words come, they’re like a flood.

"It didn't fix me.”

You look like you don’t want to admit it, but the truth is so hard to contend with sometimes when expectations are proven false.

“The rut- being with Namjoon- Proving I could handle it. It didn't fix what was broken with me. I think I wanted it to like- make me feel whole, make me feel normal. It's what an omega in my position should be doing. Helping their alpha. Being good.”

Your breath hitches, and you know that there are so many many ways to be good. Being good for Geumjae meant starving yourself and staying quiet. You thought that maybe being good for Namjoon would be easier, that taking care of yourself would become easy because he wanted that for you.

But maybe it's not the alphas you're with that are the problem.

You liked the rut, you would swear on your mating mark that nothing happened during it that you didn't consent to and fully anticipate. So why do you still feel so fragile? Like you should be apologetic for it, like somehow- you didn't live up to their expectations.

He rolls back onto his ass letting you sit away from him because distance feels like what you might need.

"Good, I didn't want you to choose that."

As much as Hobi and the others are loathed to admit it, regardless of the bite mark now yellowing against your thigh, you being there actually did help during Namjoon's rut. Usually, at least one of them is left looking gaunt and in need of a few days’ rest. Jungkook didn’t even have a seizure this time. And to everyone's surprise, the pack had gone mostly back to normal sort of instantly.

Everyone had been able to walk just fine the following evening, they'd take it slow, but maybe they hadn't needed to. Hobi would have never called them unbalanced before but it's clear now how much their pack benefits from having a third omega.

But none of that would matter if you decided that you'd taken that step too quickly.

Your hand tangles with his, tangles with the sand. His fingers are strong and birdlike in yours, warm and rough.

He waits for a few long breaths "Was it bad that I said that?" Double checking, because you're both allowed to double-check when you need to. Both you and Hobi struggle to trust your internal narrative because you know how easy it is to twist it.

You take turns like this often, being vulnerable, being the one to break apart. Your laugh is something jagged, tearing up bits of yourself that you don’t want to keep, don’t want to hold onto, you swear.

How is it so easy to be hurt and yet so difficult to let the things that hurt you go?

"Yes," your laugh is sadder than he likes, you tuck your face back into the crook of his shoulder. “No. It’s fair. I think I’m just overwhelmed a little, I just wish I knew how to hope like you do. Every time I’m sad it feels like it’s like it’s the saddest I’ve ever been. Like there’s no coming back from it. It's exhausting always trying to be hopeful. How do you do it?"

Hobi likes thinking about it like that; hoping as a learned skill and not as an affliction. He gets cynical every time he gets sad and You know this best. He wonders when exactly you became the person he goes to with all of his contradictions. He doesn't know when he became this person for you either but he likes it.

He likes it.

He pulls himself a little bit closer to you. Nudging your shoulder with his and leaning. Rubbing quick up and down your calves to warm you up. The flannel of your pajama bottoms are rough against his fingers, he thinks they might be Yoongi's.

"I don't know, guess just I have to hope the healing adds up one day. When I'm not sad I don't know what else to do but hope."

You sit like that in silence for a good long while, the headphones buzzing on the sand between the two of you, quietly watching the ocean.

“I think you might be my best friend.” You admit quietly. Hobi’s smile makes the moon shine just a little brighter.

“I think you might be my best friend too.”

You sit like that, your body pressed up against his for a long time watching the ocean. Long enough that Hobi thinks you both might turn into statues, turned to marble pearly ness underneath the moons light, like it's trying to keep you here in this moment for as long as possible.

Hobi thinks you might have fallen asleep but then You stiffen and freeze. It's not him you're looking at when he turns. Your eyes have lost their glassiness, squinting into the ocean at something in the distance. Bobbing too close to be a buoy and too hard-shaped to be a patch of seaweed.

"Hobi, I think there's something out there in the water."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Extra’s: Tae’s angel halloween dress + the nesting nook

544 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 3 months

Text

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

343 notes · View notes

jacespookiebear · 11 months

Text

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 8

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

You had awaken, in the arms of your husband, who was still sleeping with his arm draping over you. Turning to look at your surroundings, Meraxes still laid there by your side but only this time, Vermax had joined her. Mewling his love for Meraxes so loudly, laying on her back. You gave a smile to the dragons until your lover pressed his arm around you, keeping you more closer. Jace was stirring in his sleep, as much as you wanted to lay with him for the rest of the day, you were still outside— the sky was bright and clearer and you were riding off to Winterfell with Lysanna.

Realizing, you laid naked, with lovebites and bruises scattering your upper body and your inner thighs, you couldn’t stop the aching that was laying between your thighs, it felt uncomfortable and you knew you would have a hard time walking properly. You pressed your thighs together as you remembered what had happened last night, “Jacaerys? Wake up, you need a bath.” Gently shaking him awake, he refused to wake up. Mumbling and sleep talking, you could make up from that he is having a sweet dream. “My love? Rhaenyra might be looking for us.”

“I will wake up soon, I promise.” Jace slurred, moving to rest his head on your chest, nuzzling into the soft, warm mounds while breathing in your scent. “My love, please we must prepare our leave to the North.” urging him to wake up by tracing circles on his bare back, he began to groan at your words and finally opened his eyes and rested them onto your face. Mesmerized by your gorgeous lilac eyes, your swollen lips pressing onto his chin to give him a kiss. You escaped his tightening grasp and sat up to look for your clothes. As you searched for the gown, Jacaerys continue laying, watching, feeling proud at the marks he left on you.

“Jace,” he didn’t answer, his mind dozed off once he begun to stare.

“Jace!” Snapping out of his daydreaming, he looked over to your face, you appeared to be distraught and upset. “My gown isn’t here, it must have been picked up by the winds.” Realizing what you said, he sat up as well. You had nothing to wear, while he also had nothing to wear. You both were naked, with no clothes besides the coverings you both had taken with you.

The thought had Jace beginning to laugh hysterically, you were not laughing at all, not thinking this situation was funny. “Come on, love! Don’t worry. We still have our cloaks.” As he tried reassuring you, you only gave him an annoyed look. He grabbed your cloak and wrapped around you, making sure it was covering all of you. As for himself, he used his robes to wrap around his waist and you both began walking back to the castle, in shame, mainly you.

You quickly ran inside the castle, passing the knights in a split second, not wanting to let them see you clearly.

“Good morrow, my Prince.” The knight muttered, not trying to give any eye contact to Jace, who was quietly walking inside the castle with nothing but a robe tied around him, nodding towards the knight, making his way back to his chambers.

“Y/n! Your bath is warmed up and I am finished with-..oh.” Lysanna’s smile dropping, seeing you rushing to your chambers with just a cloak on. She quickly ran after you, to attend you.

You never felt so embarrassed until now, having to run around the castle, naked, might you had ran into your younger family members, you would have died on the spot. “Are you alright? Do you need-“ turning to face Lysanna, who shut the door on Jace’s face by accident. Immediately opening the door and saw the half-naked Prince.

The Lady Stark stared in terror, turning away to not watch anymore. You heard her letting out a screech, you rushed to bring him inside. “Forgive me, Liz! I’ll meet you in your chambers.” Ushering her to leave your chambers, she closed her eyes as she nodded, considering that would be for the best. Turning to give you a quick hug while Jace gave her an awkward small wave before she left.

Looking over to Jace, who seemed to find this whole situation rather hilarious. “That poor girl,” you mumbled, reaching by the vanity to grab the bath robes for you and your husband. “She will remember this for a long time.” Removing your cloak off your shoulders before wrapping yourself in the silky cloth, you placed Jace’s by the tub.

“I am sure she will forget,” your husband spoke, feeling bad for how indecent he was in front of your lady-in-waiting, you helped him in the bath, letting him sink in the heated water. You started to wet his arms and shoulders with a sponge that was placed by the tub. “In few days of traveling, she will see her family once again, I recall from my youth that was what Lysanna always wanted.”

Offering him a kind smile from the memory, you continued to help him bathe, sitting by the side of the tub, you noticed some sand still stuck to his skin so you quickly rinsed it off by pouring water onto his skin and rubbing it off with your hand. You grabbed some more water for the sponge to soak up, “A sweet thought, husband.” you responded, dancing your fingers over his open hand, your lover watched you as you carefully touched his palm, the one he cut open during your wedding ceremony, it seemed to have Jace reacted from how he slightly flinched from your touch, meaning the wound was still sensitive. “..Sorry..”

“Will you join me?” your lover suddenly asked, turning his head to face you. You tried to smile, you didn’t want to take longer to dress, wanting to already be out traveling to the North. Wanting to kindly refuse him, but his eyes were pleading, his pleading eyes had always worked on you. You could never say no to him when he uses them against you.

Reluctantly nodding as you sighed in annoyance, standing up from your spot on the floor, you unwrapped your robes off your body and folded it before placing it by his robes, carefully dipping in the tub that was already too small to fit more than one person, the water was rather hotter than usual but it was relaxing, you could see the steam floating above the water. Sinking more into the water, you let Jace guide you to lay on him, relaxing your head on his shoulders.

“Perhaps we should not take long,” you suggested, focusing on how he pressed kisses on your shoulder, his palms rubbing across your arms before they traveled to cup your breasts, your breath hitched. It was enough to make you feel nervous, “I don’t wish to make Lysanna wait any longer, my love.” Urging him to finish bathing, bringing your hands to hold onto his, which were still massaging your soft mounds.

While you made the effort to try cleaning the both of you, his hands continued to explore your body. “Is it wrong for me wishing to spend time with my wife?” He teased, pressing a wet kiss behind your ear, you scoffed at his question, you moved away to directly face him, bringing water to wet his hair and rub your hands into his head to massage the soap while he sat back and let you do all the work.

“I never said it was wrong,” you grinned, “but it is our honeymoon as well. Once we arrive, you can spend as much time with me.” promising him as you wiped the suds off his face. Jace finally agreed, pressing a kiss onto your lips— pulling away so you could climb out of the tub with him. You helped dressing him with the attire that Lysanna picked out that was appropriate for the weather in the North. You wore a comfortable gown that had similar designs to his attire, it’s material was suited enough to stay warm from the cold, adjusting your glove until you heard a knock on your chamber doors before opening that it revealed Lysanna who still wore a blush on her cheeks.

“I only wanted to bring news,” the look on her face was different, she usually wore a look that possessed positivity and assurance but she looked shy and embarrassed— clearly she did not want to speak of what she saw witness earlier. “The boat is ready to depart. A carriage is waiting for me on land once we arrive.”

Offering her a nod, smiling to the Lady, “Thank you, Liz. You should have left without us, we will be arriving on dragonback.” Walking towards her, linking your arm with her as you let Jace trail behind you both.

Lysanna only shook her head and smiled back, “I wanted to leave with you.” you both walked to the study hall to bid farewells to your family along with Jace. Rhaenyra placed a sweet kiss on your foreheads and hoped you would all have a pleasant stay.

“Could you bring back gifts?” Rhaena asked while Luke clinged to Lysanna, you could see tears stains on his cheeks, not wanting to be parted from Lysanna.

Reaching over to place an arm around Rhaena, she happily accepted your hug. “I’ll bring you too much gifts, your father will hate me for spoiling you so much.” Hearing you say that, Daemon let out a laugh, he was too awkward with farewells but still gave you and your husband an nod.

“Write to us once you arrive,” Rhaenyra ordered, “I want to know you had a safe arrival.”

“Of course, sister.” you answered, but still it took much reassurance from Jacaerys that he will write to her, she was still having concerns with the trip but still let you head outside of the castle. Your sister was very scared something might happen. You were heading days away from Dragonstone, it was a terrifying thought. Rhaenyra rubbed her growing stomach, watching you climb on top of Meraxes to be properly seated, as well with Jace and Vermax. Lysanna had made her way to the boat, waving to you.

Patting on her neck, signaling her to arise in the air, with the ground rumbling beneath you—Meraxes began to move, you turned to give a last wave to your elder sister.

“Please..come back to me safely.” Rhaenyra whispered to herself, trying to not stress herself even more, knowing it was bad for her and the unborn child. Watching you and Jace ascending with your dragons, she only had continued doubts clouding her mind about this trip.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You noted how cold it was in Winterfell, the snow falling from the sky, watching it fall on you and Meraxes. It was beautiful, the sceneries were mesmerizing as you took another detour around the land. The lovely trees powdered in snow and the ground crunched as Meraxes landed on the pathway to Winterfell, the sounds of Vermax’s roars filled your ears, the dragon lazily laying by the gates now happy to see Meraxes arrived. She had already been tired from the cold weather and now didn’t want to deal with the tiny clingy dragon. Seemed your husband had already arrived before you, you sure did take your time exploring the North once you had entered. Presumably took rather a bit more than a week for you to arrive, especially on Meraxes who surely was huge but lacked agilty.

You stepped down from the ropes on Meraxes, rubbing her gently on her sides, wishing she could have a warmer place to stay during your time in Winterfell. You remained your focus on your dragon until Jace pulled you away from the entrance. He was wearing a different cloak, one with thick furs and had now wore leather gloves, he placed a cloak with white furs onto your shoulders, you were no longer feeling cold but could still feel the harsh breeze from your head, your nose quickly became stuffy.

You both heard mewls from your dragons, and saw the guards at the front looked afraid to approach the majestic creatures. “I worried I had lost you, but I can see you took your time.” Patting snow off your hair, with a cheeky grin. You returned his teasing with a smile. You were so happy, you couldn’t hold your excitement any longer.

“Oh Jace! Have you seen the waterfall? The water was clear as crystals! I wish to see it once more!” Happily listing what you saw during your little exploring as your arms wrapped around his, Jace listened while you both entered inside Winterfell.

The guards inside the courtyard, held the banners that belonged to your House, announcing your titles as the people before you all kneeled, you noticed Lysanna was there, right by her Lord brother’s side. Surprised to see her already here, knowing she arrived by boat but it appeared she had been here for awhile.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, future Heir to the Iron Throne, with his wife, the Princess Y/N Targaryen, his future Queen Consort, second daughter of King Viserys, first of his name.”

Searching around the new area, the castle looked old but very beautiful. It held so much histories just like in Dragonstone. You watched Jace signal for Lord Cregan and his people to arise before approaching the tall man to greet him.

“We thank you for having us as your guests, Lord Stark.” Jace spoke warmly at the older man before they shook hands. They seemed to already be getting along.

Cregan pulled away to greet you as well, kissing your hand. You returned with an enthusiastic smile, clearly happy to be here. “Call me Cregan, my Prince. It is an honor to have you as our guests. I also wish to express my gratitude for bringing my sister along with you.” Lysanna happily gave you a hug.

“Lysanna has been nothing but good to us, I am delighted to be here in the North, Lord Cregan. The North is as beautiful as she claimed.” you expressed, your curiosity of the North had the Lord keeping his gaze on you for what felt like centuries, his continued hold on your hand went unnoticed by you and the others except the Prince.

Breaking eye contact with him, you made your way to greet his advisors, family, and the many many children that were all beside him. The young girls whispering to each other before you approached them, letting your husband continued to speak with Cregan.

“It’s the Princess! They were right, she does have silvery hair..”

“They tell stories and sing of her beauty.”

“Could I ever grow as beautiful as the Princess?”

You stared in awe by the little girls offering flowers to you, they sweetly shoved them in your direction while murmuring, “We grew these for you, Princess.” They were tulipa humilis flowers and usually were able to bloom in the snowy season. You read about them with your Septa, they were something you had wanted to see in the North. Kindly thanking the children before taking the bouquets from their small hands.

“Oh right! Brother, the gift,” Lysanna exclaims, turning to face her brother, who realized what she was speaking of. Immediately a servant came to your side, with direwolf pups in a basket. Letting out a gasp immediately, you carefully placed the bouquets in the basket before holding the pups in your arms as they continued wailing.

The pups started giving you affections by licking your cheeks, you could tell by the look on Cregan’s face that he was contented to know you were certainly enjoying the gifts. “Think of them as wedding gifts, my Prince. My sister had told me of your wife’s fascination for direwolves.”

Jace turned to watch you hand him one, the squeals you let out from the overwhelming affections the pups were giving you and your husband. You were holding onto the white furred direwolf who possessed deep blue eyes, as Jace held the black furred in his arms.

Your husband couldn’t be angry, though you both already have dragons but you were happy with the gifts. Jace felt himself beginning to warm up to the small pup in his arms, petting it gently while keeping his focus on the Lord Stark. “They are a kind gift. Your thoughtfulness is well appreciated, I can assure you.” He responded, as he begun to think of a name for the direwolf. Cregan let out a laugh and gave Jace a pat on the back.

The children watched from how you presented yourself, cooing softly at the pup in your arms, “May I suggest a name for the wolf pup, my Princess?” A little girl stepped up and approached your side before the rest of the children followed in pursuit, all began playing with the direwolf that you placed on the ground.

“Her name should be Astrid! It’s a northern name for beauty.”

“Are you mad? She should be named after a Goddess!”

“Let her be named Snow!”

“Those are all lovely names, my sweetlings.” kneeling besides the children, you and Lysanna were watching the small pup chase the children around the courtyard. Looking over to Jace who held a genuine smile, rocking the pup in his arms like he was a babe.

You began appreciating how well the trip was already starting, the snow continued falling as you started locking eyes with a girl. Around the same age as you, possessing dark brown hair and brown eyes very similar to Lysanna and her brother although she wore less fine quality clothes than the Starks. Offering her a smile, she turned her head to look away, seeming to have been embarrassed to be caught staring at you.

Your husband’s hand reached to hold your arm, making you snap back to reality. You looked at him with a dazed look before your face softened, turning to Lord Cregan, who offered a friendly smile. “Let us rest now, my love.” Jace affirmed, you were understanding that you would retire to your chambers now, it was beginning to become dark afterall.

“Oh,” You nodded, bringing your full attention towards them. “I was starting to become tired.” As you were about to head up to your chambers with your husband and the pups while Lord Cregan and Lysanna lead the way, you had waved to the children who all returned with a loud “Bye-Bye Princess!” their sweet shouts left you frowning, though you knew you would be able to see them on the next day.

“They love you, Princess.” The northern man remained a smile on his face as he spoke. “Let us have you rested for tomorrow! We will have many days until the hunt. In honor of your newly marriage. Let’s have you settle in Winterfell for now.” Nodding at his words, Lysanna beaming with excitement for the fun adventure that was in store for everyone.

Lysanna commanded the knights to bring your packed luggages, following you all to your chambers to drop off. You and your lady-in-waiting noticed how awfully close the two men became in matter of minutes. Were men so easily to befriend one another? You wouldn’t be surprised, Cregan was a very kind man from the start, his appearance may seem like he’s a man who keeps to himself but he already became quite comfortable around you and Jace after hearing nothing but good words from his sister.

You all stopped in front of a hard wooden door, much more sturdier than the doors from Dragonstone, opening up to a spacious room with a fireplace already burning by the middle of the large wall facing opposite from the large bed. Artifacts and tapestries covering the room, animal teeth laying on the table as decoration, the floor creaked as you walked inside the chambers.

“I know how much you like soft sheets to sleep on while you rest, I had my brother prepare silk sheets for the bed.” Lysanna directs your attention with patting on the soft bed, the pups seemed to follow her quickly and began chewing on the wooden corners of the bed

“That is well appreciated, Liz. Even when we’re in your home, you take such care of me.” you wholeheartedly boosted. She then shared a look with her brother— raising a brow at Cregan, which made you and Jace looked at each other with confusion.

“Perhaps this’ll be the room you will conceive your heir!”

Feeling yourself become warm at the statement, you had not expected that nor did your lover. When they saw the way both you and Jace looked flustered, Lysanna straightened herself and slapped Cregan’s shoulder from his comment. “A joke! My brother was only jesting.” Lysanna awkwardly laughed as Jace forced a smile, you were quite embarrassed enough but did not show it.

“Do not fret,” you assured, offering a hug to Lysanna, “my husband and I will surely try our best to not disturb the castle tonight.” Only trying to lighten the mood, the Warden’s laughter boomed through the chambers as he smacked Jace’s back harshly, your husband gave you a look of awkwardness.

“The Princess certainly knows how to jest!” Laughing with the siblings before they decided it was time to let you and Jace be alone, bowing their heads to you, as they left you wished them a well night’s rest.

Once the door shut, you made your way towards the luggages to find a nightgown to change into, the pups followed you and began licking at your legs. Petting them very gingerly, you hoisted them on your lap, “What shall we name them? They’ll surely make Luke and Rhaena happy.” Bringing out a beige gown, almost sheer enough that you could see the outlining of your breasts, the v neck was deep enough to have them spilling out, the length of the cozy gown stopped at your ankles and the sleeves were rather long enough to drag on the floor. It was something you would wear to rest in Dragonstone but it was rather too cold in Winterfell to be wearing just one layer of clothes, the fur blankets will surely help keep us warm, you thought to yourself.

Bringing your attention back to your lover, continuing to sit on the floor as you turned to face Jace. “Isn’t Winterfell such a beauty? I wish we could live here for the rest of our days,” you expressed, your eyes never leaving his as he walked to sit in front of you, on the side of the bed.

“My love, you only say that because we’re days away from our family.” your lover inhaled deeply, you placed you hands on his knee before laying your chin on top, looking up to him with a soft gaze.

"Not true," you insisted, Jace leaned over and begun unlacing your gown for you, "I love how peaceful the North is."

He let out a scoff from your words, a smile creeping onto his face, watching you let the dress slip off once you stand on your feet, fully bare in front of him. "We could live in a small cottage, not far from here, just us, our dragons, and our direwolves." Wrapping the dress around you, tying the wraps together before the pups could chew on the ends.

"Just us?"

Noticing the glint of happiness in his eyes, placing your hands on his shoulders, swinging your leg over him as you straddled him, leaning in slowly. "Just us, Ñuha vēzos." softly whispering in his ear before finally closing the distance between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours in a sweet yet long kiss.

You pulled away for a quick moment, helping Jace remove his heavy attire, once he was able to remove the several layers of clothing, his hands made their way on your cheeks— holding your face in his palms carefully while he took his time mesmerizing you.

"Is there something wrong, my love?" you asked.

Your lover shook his head and only placed a soft kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful, that is all.”

Smiling at the warm compliment, his affections towards you were always verbal and sentimental. “Come here, my love.” Urging him to let you wrap your bodies in the furs, it felt soft on your skin, warmth covering your bodies as you laid in bed. Jace brought you more closer in his embrace, releasing a relieved sigh— having the chance to relax after days of traveling, now laying with you.

Being away from you for even just a moment had him in agony. He could not bear another moment without you, his hold on you was more tighter but not enough to make you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed. It wasn’t enough though, he wanted to be inside you once more. Just a few days before, Jacaerys finally had the chance to lay with you. He never realized until he actually done it, how addicting the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock felt, already became addicted to lapping up your pussy— greedily slurping in your juices.

He easily slipped a rough hand in the slit of your gown, pressing his thumb over your clit with pressure, the act certainly caught your attention, slowly opening your eyes and look down at your husband’s wandering hand.

“Jace…you must rest..” knowing his intentions, you still gave him a low whimper, he began to rub your little nub with much speed. Sliding his middle finger down your slit, his lips sucking on your neck felt blissful. “Why must I rest, sweet wife? When I could bury myself in your cunt instead.” Jace pulled away from your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached your clit. Hiding beneath the furs as you had wished to sleep but your lover had a different idea to spend the night together.

Your mouth was hanging open as your eyes were shut, his tongue wandered into your soaking folds, making your thighs lightly tremble around his head— fearing you might crush him with your legs wrapping around him, your fingers idly twirling the long strands of his hair as Jace continues to savor your folds with his lips and tongue. He groans occasionally, enjoying your delicious cunt.

You can feel your lover’s whole tongue, from the tip to the flattened sides, licking and suckling on your clit before replacing them with his fingers as you find yourself rocking a bit more forcefully against his face subconsciously. From the tight tugging on his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, it just drives him more crazier and slides his hands to spread your ass cheeks while you continue to grind against his face, knotting both your hands in his now messy brown hair.

Bringing his whole mouth messily from your folds to your hole before pressing his tongue firmly inside your drooling hole. He digs his nails into on your ass, and you buck against his face. Your dear husband hums happily, slurping loudly— surely anyone outside your door could hear it, hearing him drink up your sweet juices.

You can feel an orgasm starting to build up. His fingers that were on your clit continues to change pace, swapping from a circular motion to side to side direction, rapidly. Feeling yourself almost coming undone on his tongue and fingers, Jace pulls his mouth off of your cunt, as you pant loudly, confused and frustrated on why he moved away. He moved up to escape from under the furs, staring up at you with your fluids smeared all over his lips and chin— you stared back with a hazy look, still panting from the act.

“Lay on your stomach.” Jacaerys ordered, the tone of his voice almost had you withering away, scrunching up the material of your gown— lifting it up to reveal your bare lower body. You tiredly moved to lay on your stomach before he gripped your hips aggressively and lifted them up in the air. The movement surprised you, left you gasping quietly once you felt the cool air on both of your holes. Without having to wet his cock, he dragged the tip down your hole, you felt like giving out. Your elbows trembling, trying not to buck.

Jace lets out a low groan and smiles to himself as he enjoys watching you struggle to keep yourself from falling onto to pillow. “Have you ever imagined us like this before? Or perhaps thought of me claiming you before we had the chance to wed? Tell me, auntie, your sweet nephew wishes to know the truth.”

You only shook your head as you tried to speak, the way he degrades you so effortlessly, like he gets off of it, you know you shouldn’t but you let out a whine at how he called you his aunt, his cock beginning to rock against you, with his fingers stroking your nipple. He waits patiently for you to speak, not daring to insert himself just yet until he had a verbal answer from you.

“Y-yes.” You manage to pant out, feeling rather humiliated at the confession and with his hand at your breast— they had easily spilled out of your gown, he twists your left nipple while you spoke, making you moan and ultimately falling on the pillows from the pleasure. “Please..”

He ruts his hips forward sharply, dragging his wet cock tip along your aching opening, painfully slow. “Please..what?”

You whined in frustration, tears starting to spill onto your cheeks. Pathetically, you tried leaning closer to gain some more pleasure, your husband only laughed at the sight. “D-Don’t make me say it.”

From your response, he decides to tease you more, certainly he was relentless. “I can’t give you what you desire if you won’t tell me.” The change of his demeanor was shocking, not even a moment ago he was whispering sweet words in your ears.

You felt his other hand come down, adding much more pressure on your breasts, grabbing at the soft mounds painfully, pulling and slapping at them. The harsh impact did not help except only making you wetter.

“Jacaerys..!”

“Just tell me what you want, auntie.”

You could feel his tip pressing on your entrance, though he wasn’t making an effort to thrust his cock inside your wet cunt, finally deciding you had enough of his teasing. “Please, I want your cock..nephew!” Your tears mixing with your sweat, moving your head to bury your face in the pillow, but instead, Jace grabbed at your arms to lift your upper body off the bed.

He moans at how you begged. The scene of having you submit to him, was a fantasy of his for a long time. He used to fantasize of sneaking in your chambers and claiming your maidenhood right then and there. Without any warning, he bucks himself into you, completely staying in there for a moment before he began vigorously thrusting in and out of your cunt. Arching your back as your eyes roll far behind your eyelids, feeling the weight of his balls against your pussy had only increased your want in pleasure, the satisfying blazing of his girth stretching your cunt once again had you almost screaming, swearing to yourself you need to be more quieter but he’s just so big, hitting all the right spots— deep into your walls, your whole body struggling to not fall back on the bed.

You dig your hands into the sheets below you, holding on for dear life as your lover continues filling your little cunt with his massive cock. Your tears had not went unnoticed by the younger Prince, pounding into you so mercilessly as he leaned forward, taking your chin in his hand to move your head to the right to press a sweet kiss on your cheek. The sounds of skin slapping filled the huge room, driving more sweat on your bodies and your slick slowly moving down your thighs. All you could think about is how much you want to embrace him.

You’re too sensitive and his thrusts are deep and too fast, seeming to miss the feeling of penetrating you. “Ohhh..Jacaerys! You feel so good.” Broken moans slip from your dry lips, the room filled of more erotic noises and vulgar words. Clenching tightly while his cock squelches into your heat. “Fuck!” you cried out, his other hand moving to rub your helpless clit, it was too much for you.

“Oh- fuck. I won’t last long if you keep clenching me.” Jace sighs, reaching to tug at your long silvery curls, pushing you down into the bed— speeding up his thrusts, quieting your screams into the pillow, afraid that you might wake the whole castle.

He forces your back to arch even more, enough for your breasts to press down on the sheets, never losing his pace, greedily driving himself deeper and deeper, almost enough to hit your cervix. Just as you were about to give out, feeling yourself almost blacking out, you finally reached a powerful climax that had you removing your face from the pillow that was now stained with tears and drool, your body shuddering as you curl your toes, your legs shaking— you continue to clench around his cock, he pants and shuts his eyes as Jace spills himself inside of you, making sure to push his cum deep inside to not waste a drop.

Jacaerys continues to empty himself in your leaking cunt, you turned to face him, he was red faced and his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, the sight was too good, hoping to save this memory of this, not wishing to forget how ridiculously hot he looked. He caught you staring at him with half-lidded eyes and affectionately, he moved down, resting himself on your back while smothering sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your waiting mouth, using his tongue to explore your mouth while drool was spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

“I love you.” Jacaerys whispers, you nodded at his words, slowly processing what he said as you comfortably laid back down on the bed. Seemingly you tend to be quiet as a mouse after reaching your peak, his soft cock moving out of you but immediately you whimpered at the loss of his cock, protesting for him to stay inside you by rocking your hips. It was adorable to Jace, he leans again to place another sloppy kiss and slowly rubs your nub until your cries and whimpers fades and turn into soft mewls.

Your legs still prompted up in the air with your knees on the bed, you press your thighs tightly, trying to relief the loss of his cock while the mixture of your juices and his cum oozes out of your pussy, you felt aroused once more from the memory of him roughly fucking you. Though you were sensitive and exhausted, you pathetically whined loudly, wanting more after your very long session that you and your husband just had.

All thoughts of having another go at lovemaking was thrown at the window once you heard the pups by the window started howling..loudly. You lifted your head to witness the small direwolves bring their head up in the air and howl until their hearts were contented.

“Will they continue all night?” you muttered, annoyed to see them starting to scratch at the glass. Your husband moved to bring a cloth and began cleaning you up as usual, bringing your legs down so you could properly lay under the soft furs, he laughed at the sight of the pups.

As he wiped you down, you moaned at the pressure he applied with the cloth against your entrance, fixing your gown as well before he reaches to find his night breeches to wear. “They’ll stop..eventually.” Jace told, happily climbing back into bed and melting into your touch.

Smiling at your lover, you pressed a lazy kiss on his forehead, reaching to push his bangs away. “Was I too rough? Do you need anything else?” Jacaerys leaned into your touch, appeared worried for you but you only shook your head and brought him close to your breasts, laying his head there as he wrapped his hand around your waist.

“No, it felt good..” you breathed out, tracing random shapes on his back, soothing him with your light touches. “Though,” you spoke up, making Jace look up with a brow raised at your questionable look.

“I believe I have disturbed Winterfell..” you whispered, rather feeling now embarrassed. Jacaerys let out a quiet chuckle, leaning his cheek to caress your soft skin. You both were tired, exhausted, and aching.

Having no energy to keep the conversation going, you realized your husband has now passed out on your breasts. With the howling in the background, you continued tracing on his back until you were able to also find sleep.

“Goodnight, my love.” you whispered, kissing the top of his head before you closed your eyes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I delayed writing this for some reason my bad, I got summer school now😒 but anyways I can’t I wrote more smut EARLY HAHAHA but oh well.

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn (would not let me tag u) @ghalakgx (would not let me tag u) @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u) @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat t @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u) @zzz000eee @parkchaeyoung1997 @jaehyunyah @hxtd @a-anselina

768 notes · View notes

soupbabe · 4 months

Text

Marrying La Squadra Headcanons

Anon asked: What would married life with la squadrons look like?❤️

Hihi!! Thank you for requesting, I had a lot of fun with these 😅😅 though I'll admit I lingered on the wedding back stories a bit too much lol

Formaggio

- Formaggio never in his life thought he'd be married, he always dreamed of living a bachelor lifestyle

- But y'know...sometimes couples get drunk on special anniversary trips and impulsively get married at a cheap, tourist trap chapel in Vegas

- Formaggio would've loved the stereotypical Elvis impersonator officiamt

- The morning after would've been a bit hectic on his end, but Formaggio is a man who can commit

- He's been thinking about taking the proper steps to marry you anyways, as long as you were fine with the night prior there's no harm done!

- The marriage is a secret for a while, to the team it's as if nothing changed. Your new husband was just as clingy and doting as ever

- I think if weddings are an important part of your culture and something you'd really want to do-over, I think Formaggio isn't opposed to something more formal and traditional

- Though I think he'll always prefer to tell people the story of the shotgun wedding in Vegas, definitely makes him feel cooler

Illuso

- I think Illuso is similar to Formaggio, he never thought to be "tied down" to anyone, but meeting you absolutely changed his mind

- One word to describe Illuso: Bridezilla. He wanted everything to be perfect for the wedding, he might've been the most strict during this era

- I'm sure you had to talk Illuso out of having the wedding in the mirror world because he could control everything. Though after the wedding, he started to come down to his normal self

- The clingiest and softest you've ever seen him was during the honeymoon

- Illuso wouldn't stop calling you his husband/wife/spouse, he wouldn't stop referring to himself with your last name

- Being married you was something he didn't know he needed

- Illuso wears his ring like a badge of honor, he enjoys seeing the silver band that decorates your finger that tells everyone that you belong to him

- Every time he wakes up and you both have to leave for work, he makes sure to kiss your ring before he says goodbye

Prosciutto

- To no one's surprise, Prosciutto easily adjusted to the idea of marriage and the married life

- He can be tender and affectionate, of course he wasn't scared of spending the rest of his life with you.

- Prosciutto would prefer something small, only wanting close family to attend

- Absolutely he would be open to having separate or fusion weddings if you come from a different background. He'd have a lot of enjoyment sharing your traditions with you

- There's so much more confidence within the relationship, Prosciutto smiles when you brag about your husband. A smirk graces his lips when he can hold you by the waist and introduce you as his spouse

- It's very natural for Prosciutto to fall into a house husband role, he loves unwinding in the kitchen and cooking dinners for you

- Even in the honeymoon, he'd scoff at restaurant food and insist he could provide you with something better

- He's an ideal husband if you want to get pampered and recreate the classy romance you see in the movies.

Pesci

- Getting married to you was the scariest and the happiest moment of his life

- Pesci stumbled through the novel that was his vows, when he was able to kiss you he couldn't help himself and pulled you in with anxious excitement

- Even when he proposed, Prosciutto slapped his face and told him to man up before he pulled out the ring

- Like his brother, he prefers something smaller. He wants the moment to be intimate, private

- He cried so much ever since you two married

- Half the honeymoon was spent hugging him and reassuring him that yes, you two really are married, and yes, you really do love him that much

- Marriage or not, he's still just as shy and flustered since you met him. Doesn't matter how tough he tries to act

Melone

- Melone never really thought about marriage before, but it's a welcomed surprise

- I just know that when he got to kiss you during the ceremony, it made everyone instantly uncomfortable/j. He does not care about what others think, he just likes to show you how much he loves

- He absolutely uses the title of husband to his advantage, especially for silly things like pda.

- The honeymoon phase never actually ended for him

- As you two are further in the marriage, the more Melone starts to think about kids

- No secret he's good with them, Babyface has given him more than enough practice

- But having an actual, human baby? Oh it has him all giddy and anxious

- For the first time, you actually see him take a situation seriously. Whether you're giving birth or having a baby through alternative means, he doesn't want to have kids unless you know you're ready too

Ghiaccio

- I don't think marriage ever crossed Ghiaccio's mind growing up. Meeting and falling in love with you opened up so many doors

- It definitely scared him, if you weren't on the other end of the aisle waiting for him, he would've become a runaway groom

- Ghiaccio would so go off and rant about how nothing much has changed ever since you two got married. To him it's just "some name change and extra paper work"

- He'd say that he doesn't feel any different, but that's so far from the truth

- Tease him by calling him your husband, call him by your last name, and watch how his face turns pink and he tries to hide a smile

- It takes the longest for Ghiaccio to settle into married life. I'm not sure it fully registered to him how long you and him have been together

- He never thought he would be loved the way you love him. No matter how hard he pushed people away, you stayed and warmed his heart <33

- That being said never joke about divorce it'd freak him out. He'd cry.

Risotto Nero

- The married life with Risotto is special, as it brings out a completely different side of the capo

- May be an unpopular opinion, but Risotto is right up there with Illuso when it comes to being a Bridezilla

- All he cares about is adhering to your plans. He'll go above and beyond for research to make sure you won't get scammed

- Like yeah. He may have threatened the florist behind your back, but like. What was he supposed to do? The florist was the one trying to pass off rhododendrons as hydrangeas.

- But once the wedding is over, he's exhausted and looking forward to the honeymoon

- Solidifying the marriage made Risotto fully let down his walls around you. He smiles more, he's more physically affectionate, he lets you know that he belongs to you too.

- While you two try to keep chores and tasks equal, swapping out who does what, it's hard to deny that Risotto loves it when it's your job to cook

- He thinks it's adorable when you tie an apron around your waist, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

183 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 6 months

Text

lily of the valley

oleander final part: y/n never pictured that her night would end like this.

wordcount: 16.2k+

cw: lots of talk ab blood and the consumption of blood! some descriptions of people who have passed away, but thats really it!

—————

(Y/N) stood behind the apothecary counter, chin resting in her palm with her eyes gazing out the window. The rain had returned last night, bringing with it a lingering fog and cloudy sky. Barely anyone was out and about, leaving (Y/N) feeling as if she were the only soul left in the village. The same way she had felt since leaving the castle and ghosting through the world without anyone the wiser to what she had learned that night.

The last week had been one of wandering thoughts and conflicting dreams. More than once, she had woken in a cold sweat, a flashing nightmare of Harry hovering over her, his mouth full of sharp teeth and blood. She would wake with her heart in her throat and lungs tight, but the only thing that could calm her was the thought of Harry himself comforting her. She would replay a fantasy of him coaxing her down from her fright, those concerned eyes and gentle touch helping draw her in.

Soon enough, as the days packed on, those nightmares were few and far between, leaving (Y/N) with only questions and intrigue replacing her initial fear. Distance and time from him allowed the memories of his care to rise to the surface; his promise of never bringing her any harm and the actions to back it up were at the forefront of her mind.

He had said they would see one another soon, after enough time had passed to allow her to wrap her head around it all. (Y/N) was beginning to itch for that time to come sooner rather than later.

As if someone had been listening into her thoughts, a familiar bone white horse emerged through the fog, looking more phantom than animal. The rider had long dark hair and pale features. It was Harry's footman—Mitchell.

He was the one that hadn't learned his self-control yet. (Y/N) stiffened at the thought.

The horse was guided right to the apothecary where Mitchell hopped off the stead and tied the reins to the latch outside of the shop. (Y/N) didn't know how to keep her eyes away now that she knew what he was.

The similarities to Harry only increased as she looked at him through a different lens. They were both impossibly graceful, lacking any flaw. Mitchell moved with a restrained strength, as if he were holding back with every movement causing him to look almost mechanical. She wondered if Harry was always holding back in the same way, but had mastered the art of blending in.

There was no hesitancy this time when he came in. Stepping over the floorboards, he still lacked any real show of presence as nothing creaked under him or rattled around his weight. His sharp eyes landed on her immediately.

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted with a nod, his voice low and clipped. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a familiar, opulent envelope. The last time she had seen one of these was when her father had thrown the piece into the furnace, effectively banning her from going to Harry's home. "From Harry," he murmured, passing off the piece. He took great care in ensuring their skin didn't brush.

"Thank you," she answered, a small smile on her lips, "Mitchell."

This time, she didn't wait for the footman to leave before she was breaking the wax seal and opening the flap to the letter. Inside was a simple letter, written out in curling letters on elaborate stationary.

My dearest, (Y/N),

I hope I am not asking for too much to see you again so soon. I know we had agreed on coming together so I may offer answers to any and all questions you have, but if you would prefer to no longer see one another, I understand. If that is the case, tell Mitchell as much and I will no longer contact you if that will make you the most comfortable.

If you are still open to seeing me again, I would like to invite you back to my home. I will arrange for the carriage to ferry you up here, and we will spend the evening discussing whatever you please. If you'll have me.

I hope to hear from you again soon.

Yours,

Harry xx

Just as she finished skimming her eyes over the text, she saw Mitchell out of the corner of her eye attempting to flee just as silently as he had before.

"Wait," she said, stopping him in his tracks before he could push open the door.

He moved stiffly to face her, his dark eyes clear. "Yes?"

"Hold on," she floundered, searching the counter for the steel pen and inkwell she had stored under the podium. "If I put my response on here, could you take it back to him, please?"

Mitchell gave a single nod of agreement.

This letter had been exactly what she was hoping she would see today. The small correspondence sparked those dimming memories of Harry she had been treasuring every night before bed. She could hear the words in his voice, see his pinched features and worried brow.

The only problem she found within the lines was his choice of location. She didn't have the confidence to stage another sneak out in the middle of the night, not trusting herself to keep silent and away from prying eyes so soon after the last time. While she had done a well enough job, no one having approached her about anything they could have seen that night, she didn't trust that she could do it as well this next time when she had more nerves working against her.

He would have to come to her.

With her writing nowhere near as glamorous as his, she wrote out:

I would love to see you again. I can't go back to your home so soon, I'm sorry. Come to me this time.

I will leave my window open tonight and tomorrow. I will be on the lookout for you, and I will let you in through the shop door when I see you're here.

Her letters looked like sloppy black slashes against his own curling script, but (Y/N) couldn't think much about her handwriting before she was folding up the page and replacing it in the gilded envelope.

"Thank you," she said, handing the correspondence back to Mitchell.

She expected him to stay in line with his persona, silently taking the page before he would ghost through the shop and disappear in the night. However, when he lingered after removing the letter from her grasp, she flicked her gaze up to find him looking at her with intensity in his earnest eyes.

"Thank you," he insisted, unwavering in his eye contact.

(Y/N) didn't have to ask where his gratitude was coming from. He knew that she was now aware of his condition, but there hadn't been even a single whisper of such through the village.

"Of course," she offered, a quiet smile on her lips. "Hopefully, I will see you again sometime soon."

For the first time she had seen, the stoic mask Harry's footman always seemed to carry showed its first crack. The very corner of his lips turned upwards in a smile.

"I am sure we will."

With that, he took the now altered letter and placed it for safekeeping in his jacket pocket. He left the apothecary as if he were but a phantom passing through. The only trace of his presence was the bone white horse (Y/N) could barely spot disappearing through the fog.

—————

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) pulled in a resigning sigh.

Harry wasn't coming.

The sun had gone down hours ago, inducing both her father's bedtime and the rest of the village's. Even the pub wasn't garnering the kind of crowd that usually haunted those halls. This was the perfect night for him to visit. No one would even notice him and she could easily sneak him upstairs with the cover of the night and her father's heavy sleeping.

She had diligently waited just as her response said, with her window cracked open to allow any noise to filter through and her eyes periodically scanning the space. Nothing more than a few bugs fluttering through her herb garden and the bright eyes of a familiar cat could be seen in the dark.

If he was coming tonight, he would have already been here. (Y/N) sunk heavier into her thin mattress at the thought.

Another hour—that's what he had left. Then, she would close her window and go to bed. She will try again tomorrow.

Just as her plan came together, she could hear her name being whispered in the night. Much closer than that of a bug skittering through her garden and too vivid to be a dream.

Her eyes shot open only to see her window shadowed by Harry's broad form. He was lacking a jacket and waistcoat, only clad in fitted black trousers and a billowing top in a matching hue. This late at night, his eyes and hair seemed to be of a coordinating shade, leaving his skin especially pale in comparison.

"Harry?!" she gasped, startling on her bed, "Wh—How did you—"

He looked over his shoulder in a quick whip of his head before he turned to her once more.

"I will explain in a moment, but I think I see one of your neighbours," he murmured, gesturing to her window with a nod of his chin. "May I please come in?"

(Y/N) scrambled at the thought of one of her neighbours catching Harry perched on the sloping roof of her home, right where her window was open. "Yes, yes," she rushed out, keeping her voice low as she moved towards her window, "Just—Come in before anyone sees you."

Curling her fingers under the pane, (Y/N) slid it open just enough for him to slip through. Taking a step back, she watched as he fluidly climbed through her window, not even a hair out of place. He landed on her floor without a single sound, turning back to shut the window after him.

She hadn't realized just how heavy her heart was beating until the vacuum of her bedroom was restored. She settled some though she kept her eyes fixed on the broad of Harry's shoulders.

"How did you get up there?" she breathed out, trying to picture how he would have made it to the ledge so soundlessly despite her open window.

Harry's answer came in the form of a sly look shot over his shoulder.

Oh.

"Right," she sounded. Another part of his whole existence that she had no idea about. More questions were added to her ongoing mental list.

Harry looked out of place in her tiny bedroom. He was broad and space-filling. He had a presence here among the mishmash of stuff that made up her home, though it was far from suffocating. Standing with his back to her window, his form appearing that much longer with the help of the single flame of candle light casting shadows around him. He looked around her room, a tiny smile sitting on his lips.

"Do you mind if I look around?" His voice was so pleasant and unrushed, it almost made (Y/N) forget the gravity of their meetup.

Nonetheless, confined to her spot before the end of her bed, she nodded her head.

She watched as Harry took in her space the same way she had taken in his: with curious awe. All of her small trinkets, childhood journals, gardening momentos, and memories of her mother were plotted about her room for him to graze his eyes over. His hands were twined behind his back as he wordlessly stepped through the space, eyes lighting up as he looked over the small shelf her father had nailed into the wall when she had finally received her own bedroom. There was a twitch to Harry's lips when he saw the various lengths of twine she had laying over her rickety bedside table; she always forgot she had one waiting before she had pulled another to tie her hair back.

Her room was nothing at all like his castle. While he lived in rich color, exquisite luxury, and vast amounts of space, she had the opposite. Everything was muted in her room, leave for the dried flowers and tiny splashes here and there amongst her things. Harry could cross the width of her room in three strides with the length being met within four. It was far from the standards he likely had. Despite the obvious differences, (Y/N) could see the shatters of green appearing in his eyes the longer he made himself at home in her room, his features softening and bones relaxing.

She hoped that meant he liked what he found.

Just when she thought he was planning on spending all night dissecting any and everything he could find in her bedroom, Harry finally turned on his heel, hands still clasped behind his back, to face her with a gentle smile.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me again," he told her, voice a low rumble, "Have you had time to think?"

Sitting on the end of her bed, she gave him a small nod. Her bottom lip fit between the blunt ends of her teeth, worrying the sensitive skin. "I have a lot of questions."

"I figured you would. I am an open book, (Y/N)," he affirmed, coming to stand just before her, "Anything you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability."

(Y/N) could feel his eyes on her as she shuffled back on her bed, folding her legs underneath her with her nightgown falling around her form. "You can sit with me if you'd like" she offered, eyeing the empty space on her mattress for him.

Her heart bubbled in her chest at the realization that she was asking a man to her bed. She had been so occupied on learning her answers and ensuring no one saw them together in the dead of night, that she had completely forgotten the fact that she was alone in her bedroom with Harry. When she had come up with this plan, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she was supposed to be worried about her reputation (or her safety, if she was considering the non-human aspects of him). The racing of her heartbeat increased that much more when he cautiously took up her offer and crawled onto the bed in front of her. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how terribly her bed stacked up against the velvet covered monstrosities he had in his own home.

"Thank you," he said, settling himself amongst the folds of her quilt. His observing gaze settled on her with rounded corners to his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, sincerity in his voice, "Have you been well since the last time we met?"

"I am well, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes to her lap where her hands fumbled with one another, "Just thinking and trying to figure everything out. And yourself?"

"I've been okay," he answered earnestly, "But, much better now. I'm glad to hear you've been alright; I have been worried I frightened you or been too much that last night."

(Y/N) canted her head. "I wouldn't say frightened, no, but I've been overwhelmed." She swallowed. "Confused."

"I understand; I felt the same way once, too," he sympathized, his tone tender, "What has troubled you the most?"

Peeking at him through her lashes, she swallowed around her suddenly dry throat.

"The—um—the bodies," she whispered, a pinch appearing by her brows, "You said that you haven't been the one doing... that recently, but you had in the past. What did you mean?"

Just as troubling as it was for her to ask that question, it appeared Harry had the same issue answering it.

"I..." he started, cutting himself off before he could get very far with his mouth settling into a grim line. "There was a time right after I had... become what I am now, that I was not myself. I was confused, scared, and unable to think rationally. All I knew was that I was hungry. The food I could find made me terribly ill, and no amount of water, or wine, or anything could quench my thirst. I could only have that."

While (Y/N) felt as if she already had the answer she was asking for, she couldn't help but to pose her question anyway.

"What do you mean, that?"

Harry dropped his gaze from hers when he answered. "Blood."

Her fingers were a nervous bundle in her lap before her body stilled like the dead at his answer. The memory of the corpse she had found, bloodless and pale like snow, reentered her mind.

"Y-You drink it?"

"Yes."

Her heart hammered against her ribs, though the feeling made her think only of the blood rushing through her veins.

She must have sat there silent for too long, she realized when Harry piped up, feeling the need to mend the shock he had given her.

"It's not something I want to do, (Y/N)," he started, choosing his words carefully, "It is the only way I can continue living, but please believe me when I say that I have not committed those kinds of atrocities in almost one hundred years. The second I learned that I could survive off of animals, that's what I started doing. I haven't done anything like what has been happening since."

As uncomfortable as she felt, thinking about Harry drinking any kind of blood or taking any kind of life, she could live with the fact that he was choosing animals over those of her village. She had to eat too, and while she would have loved to keep every animal alive and frolicking around, she had to do what she had to do as well. She couldn't judge him too harshly.

"But, Mitchell. He doesn't know yet?" she asked, thinking back to the man with the long hair and ghostly demeanor.

Harry sighed, the same kind of sigh her father used to give when her sister was too stubborn for her own good. "He does know, but it is a hard transition. He wants to change, but he cannot always contain himself should an easy opportunity present itself. I am trying to teach him how to work past those urges, but it is taking longer than either of us would like." He dropped his head then. "I am sorry for what you have seen and what he has done when he is not able to think. I live with the guilt just as much as he does, but we are getting better everyday. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive both him and I."

(Y/N) pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but I can understand," she offered on a delicate breath. Truthfully, Mitchell sounded like a child: impulsive and taking steps forward before taking just the same amount back. "We all do things we are not proud of. I hope he can learn from this soon, and give these families peace."

"He will," Harry cemented, "I am going to make sure of it."

A beat of silence sat between them as she rifled through her head to decide on her next question. "Pardon me if this is inconsiderate to ask," she prefaced, "But, is your... condition the reason both you and Mitchell are so... pale?"

A genuine grin stretched across Harry's lips at her words. His laughter was a quiet huff from between his lips. "I would think so, yes," he told her, likely grateful for the easier line of questioning, "Every other vampyr I have met, we all tend to be on the paler side, lacking that life in our skin."

It was an odd thing, hearing him talk about all of the others he had met. She couldn't help but to wonder if Harry really was the first she had ever encountered without even realizing. "Is that why you are cold, as well?"

"Am I?" he asked, tipping his head to the side with a crease between his brows, "I suppose I've never really noticed. Though, the few times you have allowed me to touch you, you are so pleasantly warm I should have figured as much."

"You think I'm warm?" she asked, feeling a small sense of pride hit her chest. It was entirely silly to feel flattered over a comment about the temperature of her skin, but she couldn't help herself. She was a simple girl, at the end of the day.

"Very much so," Harry affirmed, dimples pressing into his cheeks as she smiled at her, "You are like the sun to me."

Now she definitely couldn't bite back her smile, dropping her head to watch her fumbling hands pluck at the seams of her nightgown. "The sun?"

"The very one," Harry teased, "Though I haven't felt the sun since I changed, I imagine the rays feeling like your touch."

"You haven't felt the sun?" (Y/N) blanched, a set of questions hitting her that she hadn't even considered, "But I've seen you outside?"

Harry gave her a pointed look, "Only on cloudy days. I learned the hard way a long time ago, but I now burn under the sunlight. It's a rather frightening experience, if I'm honest."

"You burn?" (Y/N) pressed, suddenly scanning her eyes down his form as if she could pick out any marks or scars upon his skin.

"As if I have touched fire," Harry grimly detailed, "But, I am lucky enough that because of what I am, my skin mends itself. I can't remember the last time I have had any kind of injury without an instant recovery or even fallen ill."

A new lens fell over (Y/N)'s gaze as she looked at him. Harry was always strong in her eyes, both physically and in the way carried himself so regally despite the swirling rumor mill. Now, though, the descriptor had an entirely new meaning. No wonder he was so flawless—there was nothing in this world that could even blemish him.

He was the perfect predator—and protector.

"You don't remember anything about the night you changed?" (Y/N) asked, mimicking the language he had been using himself.

He didn't even blink at her shift in conversation, instead furrowing his brow and canting his head as he threw his memory back.

"Not really," he mused, pursing his lips, "There are fuzzy bits and pieces I can recall, but nothing I can be sure of. Most of my life before is just as muddy, but I can remember a few things."

"So you don't know how you became this?" She couldn't imagine going to bed one way and waking up another, not a single idea as to what happened only knowing that she was not the same. No wonder Mitchell was struggling; how do you cope with something so overwhelmingly monumental?

"I don't know my story, but I do know how vampyrs can be made." He flicked his gaze to her as if to gauge her reaction, scanning for any minute change in expression. When he didn't see anything more than a curious blink, he cautiously continued. "There are three different things that can happen when we bite"—(Y/N) tried her best not to blanch at the blunt word—"someone. One is the kind that we use solely when we are eating, of course. That kind usually includes the end of a life." His own tone grew solemn at this example, that guilt he spoke of resurfacing, though (Y/N) appreciated his honesty. "We can make another vampyr in a similar way, though before the end, we have to have the control to stop. I do not know how it happens exactly, but there is something that changes humans and makes them like me. It can take time, but it can happen."

"Have you ever... made someone?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never considered making someone like that—it's too risky in my eyes."

(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking in all of the information she was learning. It was hard to think she was only in her bedroom, and not in some fantasy world that had violently merged with her own. "You said there's a third kind of... bite?"

"There is one more," he told her, sounding somewhat hesitant as he started, "It is called a Blood Bond. It is usually something that is shared between people that are intending to devote themselves to one another."

"How do they do that?" (Y/N) was intrigued now. This whole thing—being a vampyr—sounded so solitary, she didn't even think that there could be something like this within their culture. A union.

"They have to bite one another," Harry answered vaguely, "and share blood. Usually at the neck."

"And, it's like a marriage?" she pressed, trying to merge the concept with something familiar. Nonetheless, it was hard to picture her sister's wedding ending with she and her husband snapping at each other's throats.

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, "A bit more binding, though."

A troubling thought struck (Y/N) then. "Have you ever...?"

Harry all but blanched at her words. He shook his head immediately. "No, never. Mitchell is the only person I've ever kept in my life for longer than a month."

While she hated the thought of Harry being alone, solitary in his castle overlooking the village, there was a selfish part of her that keened at the thought that he had never devoted himself to anyone.

"How long have you known Mitchell?" (Y/N) rolled on. She wanted to get a picture of Harry's existence, even if she didn't completely understand the details yet.

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth then. "You really are quite curious, aren't you?"

Sheepishly dropping her gaze from his, she lifted her own shoulders in a small shrug. "It is alright if you'd rather not answer anymore, I know I can ask a lot at times. I do not wish to bother you or anything."

"No, no," Harry rushed, impulsively dropping his hand to land on her nightgown-covered knee, "Please, you are not bothering me. I love your curiosity. I told you: I am happy to answer anything you have for me. I want you to know me."

Matching her gaze to his, (Y/N) couldn't deny the genuine sincerity she found swimming in his irises. Refractions of crystal green had appeared in the pitch black, giving the look of a moonlit forest. There was a warmth to his expression, giving him the illusion of life with the dimples in his cheeks and the dazzling smile on his lips.

She couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here.

—————

"What happened after that?"

Harry directed his gaze towards the ceiling, searching the air for the rest of the story that lay in his head.

"Nothing too eventful, really," he mused, "I suppose that was when I started focusing on blending back in with the world. I felt comfortable in my control and wanted to stop hiding away so profusely—plus, I was beyond bored with my own company. Brooding can only fill so much time."

(Y/N) let out a tittering laugh at his words, leaning that much closer to Harry.

As he spoke about his life, telling her of all of the things he had seen, people he had met, and the details that made him up, the space between them had slowly dissipated until Harry was laying at her side. The longer they talked, the easier it was to grow closer and more comfortable sharing space. (Y/N) had even twisted until she was laying beside him, flat on her stomach with him on his back, hands folded over his stomach.

This close, she could practically count the lashes lining his eyes, the faint set of freckles that dusted his skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he had looked like when he was human. Did he have perpetually flushed cheeks? Were his eyes always green, or just as dark as they were now? When he was cold, did the chill show on the tip of his nose?

She didn't allow herself long to wonder over those questions. Harry as it he was in front of her was enough—more than enough, really.

"Was that hard?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as if she was conspiring with him in the dead of night, "Trying to be human again?"

"At times, yes," he mused, his eyes on the ceiling as he found his thoughts, "Humans, without realizing it, will pick up on the things that make me different and avoid me out of survival—even when I mean no harm. It is hard to feel normal when that happens."

Laying her cheek down on her pillow, admiring him as her head sunk into the down, a frown plucked at her lips. She could imagine him after trips down to the village, shopping and trying to socialize, though it was no secret the townspeople would rather him stay away. More and more she learned, the less Harry was a creature of the night with blood-stained teeth, and more a lonely soul adjusting to something he never asked for.

"I don't avoid you," she said, a quiet attempt to make him feel less alone.

She had the perfect view of the smile that stretched over his lips at her words, dimples and all. The bed dipped as he manueavered on her small bed, laying on his side to face her with his own cheek pressed to the same pillow. Her breath caught in her lungs. She'd only been this close to him once before, when he had traced his nose over the column of her throat just when she had seen his lack of reflection.

This time, she had nothing else to focus on. He was her everything right then, everything around him blurring out of focus.

"I know you don't," he responded to something she barely remembered saying, "And I feel so lucky every time I remember that. You are one of the few, (Y/N), that hasn't run the other way. But those other times were never like this."

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She loved the sound of her name in his voice. "Like us?"

"Yes, like us," he said, a rewarding smile on his lips for her, "While it concerns me that you seem to lack any real survival instincts, I am grateful that you are not scared of me." His eyes glazed over her features, taking everything about her in as she held onto each word. "I have been drawn to you for longer than I have been able to admit to myself. Every minute we spend together means something that I cannot fully express."

"Drawn to me?" she peeped, her blood bubbling under her skin.

Harry looked sheepish now, the way he flicked his eyes to her before letting them fall. She wondered, if he was the same as her, if there would be a flush to his cheeks, and a pounding in his chest. "You've intrigued me for a very long time, before we even started speaking in passing. I have made excuses to come down to the village, shopping with you when I didn't really need anything. Even though you didn't mean it, you made me feel less alone."

Tentatively, (Y/N) reached out a hand, her fingers holding a small tremor before she placed her palm on his chest. The chill of his skin could be felt through his shirt, leaving goosebumps on her arm. The slight cold was worth it when she saw Harry all but melt at her touch. She really must feel that warm to him.

"I have always been very interested in you, too," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze should that give away the exact feelings she was trying to say, "I never understood why anyone would try to gossip or say anything about you. I guess they aren't too far off, though—those rumors."

Peeking through her lashes, (Y/N) held a smile on her lips as she hoped her tease would land. When Harry huffed out a breath of laughter, his hand landing on her own on his chest, holding her fingers snug, her own grin grew three sizes.

"I suppose not," he smiled, pulsing his hand around hers.

Gazing at him, (Y/N) could nearly count the amount of green shatters floating to the surface of the pools of black. Everything about him was clear and steady, unwavering. "Thank you for coming tonight," she started, "My initial reaction was overwhelming, and I apologize for that. I would never want you to think that I felt the same way as the others or that you frightened me enough to never see you again."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, ducking his head until he was directly before her, the tip of his nose just barely missing her own, "I am sorry that I didn't assure you enough that you were safe with me and had nothing to worry about. I was planning on telling you myself, I was only waiting until I knew how to say it without using the wrong words."

"I think you've done alright," she smiled. If she blinked, would their lashes tangle together, or would she need to be just a bit closer for that?

"You have such a power over me, (Y/N)," Harry told her earnestly, his eyes swimming in devotion with his tone tinted in worship.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) wondered if anyone had ever felt like she did in her bed right then. Did her mother ever feel this way for her father? Did her blood ever burn for him the way (Y/N)'s seemingly did for Harry? Did her sister ever feel her lungs squeeze and heart batter her ribs when looking at her husband? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wayfield feel their skin crawl with the need to join one another?

Or was (Y/N) the first?

Had everyone felt this way before, or had she invented the idea of falling in love right then?

It was impulsive, reputation-ruining, and entirely unladylike the way she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. If Harry had any inhibitions, he didn't show them with the way he reciprocated the contact in a heartbeat. Molding his lips to hers, he led her through the kiss. It was far from refined, (Y/N)'s lips clumsy and off centered but Harry didn't mind correcting her until his hand was holding her cheek steady and he was pushing and pulling with her moving in tandem.

Drawing away, (Y/N) pulled in a gasp. Her hand on his chest clenched the shirt covering his chest, nails raking along the planes of his muscles. Harry didn't offer her much of a reprieve before he was diving back in, the chill of his mouth feeling nonexistent with the heat that began coursing through her veins.

While she hadn't noticed it, Harry must have with the way he pulled away, allowing her suddenly aching lungs to take something in. He offered a smattering of kisses along her cheeks instead, affection pouring over every inch he could reach.

"I adore you, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping like the nectar from a flower deep into the marrow of her bones. "I will never get enough of you."

(Y/N) could only smile, a dreamy expression as she dipped her head back. A pleasant chill crept up her spine when Harry distributed his kisses down the column and over her thrumming pulse.

She could stay here forever. Never moving, never changing. Right here with Harry was her home.

"I wish I could stay," Harry murmured, responding to words she hadn't realized she said aloud, "But the sun will rise soon, and I believe you still need to sleep."

Drawing away, Harry righted her head with his hand on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if it was just her eyes or if it was truly there, but she swore there was color to his cheeks, a flush to his lips.

"I don't need to sleep," she countered, ready to dive back in.

Harry barely sated her with a single kiss pressed to her pout. "Yes you do," he insisted, "You are caring for your garden tomorrow, right? You need rest for that or you will be exhausted before you can finish."

For a moment, she hated that he knew anything about her and her routine. She didn't care for the sage or the rosemary or whatever she was meant to be pruning in the morning. She cared for who was in her bed.

"Don't look like that," he said, unable to keep himself from laying another kiss on her lips, "We will see each other again soon, I promise. I don't think I can wait very long, either."

"You can't stay any longer?" she asked, slowly releasing her hold on his shirt. From where she could see out her window, the sun was still down with the sky dark, but she figured Harry would know his limits and timings much better than she.

Glancing out the glass himself, she could see the gears turning in his head. "I can stay a little while longer. Until you fall asleep, yes?"

That was more than she could have wished for, truly. To fall asleep in his arms was the stuff of dreams.

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

Harry responded only by bundling her to his chest. While there was no heartbeat to compare to her own, nothing to beat in rhythm against her ribs, (Y/N) had never felt more comforted.

Sleep didn't take long, even when she had fought her tired eyes.

—————

(Y/N) shyly peeked through her lashes as she descended the narrow aisle between the church pews. For the third service in a row, her eyes met that of a dark figure seated in the last row. Harry flicked his gaze to hers for a heartbeat before he looked away, a conspiratorial smile on his mouth. She felt her skin warm as she followed her father out the church doors, rolling her lips between her teeth.

Ever since he had climbed through her window the first time weeks prior, Harry had been more involved in the village than ever. He had told her between breathless kisses in the quiet of her bedroom that he wanted to see more, that he could barely keep himself away—she was on his mind constantly. With going to his estate in the night wasn't always a smart option for her and her bedroom wasn't exactly easy to hide away in, he was going to find another way to see her. Since then, whenever the sun was shaded enough, he was ghosting among the village with a tendency to haunt the apothecary or anywhere else (Y/N) might have been. (She could only imagine the stack of lavender and tobacco bundles he had laying around his home with the amount of times he came in to shop with her). He had even started showing up for Sunday morning service for another chance to see her, despite neither of them particularly caring for the sermons.

Their moments were made up of subtlety with stolen glances and conspiratorial smiles, near silent conversations when no one was listening or the quiet confirmation that they were thinking of one another. They shared more secrets than she was sure anyone would even know what to do with.

She was the only one who knew the real him amongst the chatter, and she was the only person in the world who knew what it was like to kiss her. And, no one had any idea.

No one had seen the way he slipped scraps of notes into her hand when she passed off his herbs. No one else noticed the way they gravitated towards one another during the after church gathering at the pub. No one knew that he slipped in through her window most nights or how a letter on exquisite stationery would appear when he couldn't.

No one knew (Y/N) was in love.

So caught up in her head, she didn't even register the chilly air filtering around her as she descended the church steps being her father. She had followed mindlessly even when he stopped to make conversation with another parishioner, not noticing his pause until she tripped right into his back.

Turning around, her father steadied her with a gentle hand and concerned eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over the bridge of her nose that had smacked right into his spine.

"Yes, sorry," she rushed out with a shake of her head, "I wasn't paying attention."

His worry seemingly settled in permanent lines across his face. "Are you sure? You're not growing ill, are you? You've been off in your head these last few days."

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over his shoulder and towards the fringes of the group where Harry stood by himself. She could just barely see the amused curl to his lips. He had definitely seen her misstep.

"No, " she answered, blinking back into the conversation though now she had her own efforts focussing on keeping her features in line. "I'm just tired."

—————

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, "My father..."

Drawing away from her kiss-puffed mouth, Harry sighed. "I know. I am trying, but you have to understand my struggle, darling."

She couldn't help the plume of laughter that fanned from her lips at his words. He practically beamed at the sound, his deep green eyes glimmering in the low light of a single lamp.

(Y/N) loved the way he smiled when they were alone. It was a wonder thinking that there was time before she had even known he had dimples.

"I'm sorry," she told him, settling into the down pillow under her head. Harry hovered above her with a delicate hand roaming over her cheek, his other propping him up from where he laid at her side. She barely noticed the chill when they were like this, huddled under her quilt with the heat of their breath and curious hands. "I wish we didn't have to worry."

"Come to me tomorrow," he offered in an instant, a bit breathless as he dropped his hand to boldly skate down her side, "We can be alone then."

His palm settled over her waist with a pulse, fingers tightening just when he mentioned alone. Shifting in her bedding, he didn't hesitate to pull her closer to him.

From the heat in his refracted gaze and the exceptional curiosity of his hands tonight, (Y/N) had a blushing idea of what he wanted to be alone for. While it wasn't the first time in the last weeks that there had been the passing possibility of allowing him to push her nightgown up or pull apart her corset, this was the first time Harry had given such a hint to his own intentions.

For fear of assuming too much, (Y/N) slid her eyes down the slope of his neck. "I don't know."

Creases appeared between his brows as he gazed down at her. "What are you unsure about, darling?"

Avoiding his eyes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. "I—We—" she stumbled, tongue lazing around her mouth while she searched for the right words, "I want to be alone with you too, but... We're not married."

She didn't match his eyes for fear that she had misread the situations and every other before this that she had sworn Harry was worked up on her account. For all she knew, he wanted nothing more than to speak at full volume and have more than a squeaky bed to sit upon.

Ducking his head into her line of sight, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I would never want to do something that you do not want as well, (Y/N). If you would prefer we do nothing more until we begin publicly courting and doing things in order, then that is what we will do." His hand on her side softened. "This is already more than enough for me—I can wait."

Despite his kind words, (Y/N) didn't feel any of her stress alleviate. She had already known Harry would never rush her into anything thatch was not ready for, just as much as she knew that she did not feel any real inclination to wait until they were betrothed. But, neither of those truths made her decision any easier, not when there was more than just her own wants and desires to take into account.

"I know, and I want to, really," she said, reaching out to play with the loose fabric of his top, "I just—It's... I don't want you to see or think of me any differently afterwards. I know it is not proper to want anything outside of marriage—I do not want anything to change if I were to... indulge."

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, specifically the kind of pressures that were placed on her for the simple fact that she was a woman in society. There were enough stories she had heard of women who had taken what they wanted, or fell in love with another and expressed that love, and were later shamed for doing exactly that—oftentimes by their own partners or people she trusted in her life. She didn't want to be cast aside in case he found that he no longer wanted her afterwards, after seeing how willing she was to be with someone that wasn't her husband.

Harry's features twisted with a frown touching his lips and his eyes saddening. "Have I ever made you feel as if my feelings would change should you spend the night with me? If I have, I want you to know—"

"No, it's not that," (Y/N) rushed out, already feeling guilty, "You've never made me feel anything like that. It's just that... I suppose I've made myself feel this way. I just don't want you to change your mind about me."

For all she knew, Harry would have sex with her and learn that he was only attracted to her for the fact that he wanted to be with someone after such a long time. It was not his fault she had these doubts, but they were ones that lived in her head.

Harry didn't shy away from her as she spoke. He only listened, patiently waiting for her to finish her thoughts.

"I will just have to prove it to you then, that I have no doubts about you or anything I feel for you." His words were solid, unyielding. There was no room for argument. "In the meantime," he contented, his tone decidedly softer as he shuffled closer to her, "Would it be enough to tell you that I adore you? That I care for you more than I have for anyone or anything before?"

(Y/N) suddenly felt shy under his attention. He had murmured as much to her in the heat of the moment before, but never so clearly and earnestly before.

"Harry," she started, settling her palm against his chest as if to contain him.

"It is true," he smiled, unwavering in the way he spoke ,"You are like no one I have ever known before, and I could spend my entire existence only wishing to learn you. I know we are not married, or even engaged, but I hope it is enough to know that I do love you."

Refractions of green sparkled in his eyes, brightening his gaze in a way she swore only happened when they were alone. Her heart bubbled and beat heavily in her chest. She could n longer contain the budding grin fighting to pluck at her lips.

"You truly mean that?" she whispered, selfishly asking if only to hear it again.

Dimples were thumbed into his cheeks. "Of course, I do. I've come to believe that the reason I was kept alive for so long was so that I might get to meet you."

Looking up at him with his words ringing in her ears, Harry was like the moon to her. Never had she heard devotion like that. Even in her most romantic of daydreams, she never could have imagined that harry would say something like that to her, his eyes fixed to hers and his touch an anchor. Her chest practically ached as she processed.

Her hand on his chest curled until she was fisting his top between her fingers. "I love you, too," she peeped out, the sound of her heartbeat sticking in her ears.

Harry didn't hesitate before he was sealing his lips to hers once more. It was a hurried, excited kiss, leaving their mouths just a bit off center and his nose mushed against her cheek, but (Y/N) couldn't help but to smile into the contact.

When he pulled away, (Y/N) could have sworn there was a flush of color to his skin. "If not for how badly I want to do this the right way, I would be proposing right now, (Y/N)."

"You don't have to," she murmured, surging forward and pressing another kiss to his lips, "This is enough for me." While there was still undue shame she was going to undoubtedly feel tied to any decision she made, she didn't want that to come before what she wanted when it came to Harry. "If you were still offering," she started, dropping her eyes to follow the line of his nose and the pillow of his lips, "I would like to see you tomorrow. At your home."

"Really?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than she remembered.

She nodded, a soft smile on her features.

"Only if you are sure, my love," he murmured, "The door is always open for you."

(Y/N) could only answer him with a kiss.

—————

Pacing around her bedroom, (Y/N) counted, the numbers climbing in her head. Her simple white dress flourished around her ankles with every step, though she took care to avoid the creaky floorboards.

When she reached two hundred, she took in a deep breath and strained her ears to listen to the rest of the house. All she heard was the sound of her father's snoring, just as she had when she had started readying herself.

Releasing that breath, she took quiet steps to her slightly ajar window. She had run over this plan enough times in her head for her brain to go quiet as she finally put it all in place. Repeating her steps from the first time she had snuck out, (Y/N) made it out of her home in one piece before starting towards the long winding route leading to Harry's home.

It wasn't long before a familiar black carriage and bone white horses hit her line of sight. A broad grin took over her features as she pace doubled to reach the coach.

"Hello, Mitchell," she chirped, catching the familiar head of dark hair and pale features sitting in the coach box.

"Hello, Ms. (Y/N)," he smiled at her, formality still hitting his tone despite (Y/N) assuring him more than once that he didn't need to offer her any, "He's been eagerly waiting for you."

"I have been, too," she confessed through her grin, rounding the carriage with less grace than she figured she ought to have. Before she even had a chance to knock on the door or surprise him, Harry was practically jumping out of the box.

"(Y/N)," he practically sighed, wrapping her in his arms the second his feet landed on the solid ground.

Her own arms around his neck, she all but melted into his hold. Harry held her snug to his chest, his face buried in her hair. "I've missed you so, darling. I feel as if it has been years since I've held you."

"You were in my room just last night, Harry," (Y/N) laughed. As if she hadn't been feeling the same way today, though it was much more fun to tease him.

"Exactly," he countered, stiffening his hold on her to lift her feet from the ground. (Y/N) squealed a laugh in his ear as she clung to him. "It has been much too long since I've held you."

She could offer no argument to him as she wrapped her limbs around Harry, allowing him to carry her into the carriage effortlessly. (Y/N) felt breathless by the time he had her settled on the bench beside him, wrapped in velvet and warmth despite his chilled skin.

As she caught her breath, the horses started off in the direction of the castle, a rhythmic thumping starting with their hooves against the path. Harry looked down at her with amusement on his features.

"Have you truly not missed me, darling?" he asked, his voice a soft song filling the space between them. His hand was just as gentle as he removed hair from her face, giving him a full view of her eyes.

"I have," she smiled, shaking her head, "But, Mitchell..."

Harry waved her off. "He doesn't listen, believe me. He only wishes to see me happy."

"Are you? Happy, I mean?"

Dipping his head down until he could press his lips to hers, (Y/N) received her answer in a murmur: "Undoubtedly, so."

—————

"If you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to show you."

Looking at Harry from over the rim of her wine glass, (Y/N) brightened. "What is it?" she asked after swallowing her gulp, the center of her lips tinted a berry red.

"Let me show you," Harry countered, standing from his place at the dining table before offering her a hand.

(Y/N) placed her palm in his without a second thought, fluidly following after him.

Her new gown flourished with every step she took with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow, the white ensemble having been waiting for her when they arrived at the estate. Though it wasn't as grand as the red one that now hung delicately in the wardrobe, it was no less luxurious.

The fabric was a satiny cream, gliding over her fingertips when she first touched it. The neckline cut straight across her décolletage with the sleeves being nothing more than swathes of material that draped over her arms, leaving the boned corset to keep the bodice upright. The skirt wasn't full like her last garment, leaving the shape slim and sleek around her form. Harry had practically mooned at her when she descended the stairs after dressing, his eyes never leaving her for long.

With the way the fabric gleamed and shimmered, (Y/N) felt as if she fit in with the moonlight when Harry led her outside. At her side, he blended in with the dark night aside from his pale features, acting as the heavens around the bright moon.

The ground under their steps was dewy, appearing as if drops of starlight had landed on earth with the reflection of the sky on the droplets. Looking ahead, through the draping wisteria and dark purple blooms, was the greenhouse. The building was in much better shape than the last she had seen, now with a complete roof and frosted glass on every wall.

"You finished it!" she bubbled, eager to see if he'd had the chance to fill it with any exotic blooms just yet.

"I did," he smiled, his profile illuminated by the full moon, "I wanted to make sure I could take you here the next time you came."

Approaching the door, Harry pushed it open for her to enter first.

Inside, (Y/N) felt that same wondrous glee she did when he had shown her the ballroom for the first time. This small space put her entire apothecary to shame.

The space was warm and humid, condensation trapped along the windows. Strung along the roof were familiar bundles of all of the herbs Harry had come by to pick up over the last month or so whenever he wanted an excuse to see her, the air tinted with the matching lavender and tobacco fragrances. The greenhouse itself had shelf after shelf, stretching tables, and hanging pots full of different plants. There were still plenty of places to grow, more room to put more and more flowers and herbs, but there was already enough filling that space that (Y/N) couldn't help the joyous gasp she let out.

Harry allowed her to wander through, looking over every leaf and every shrub, fawning over the blooms, and finding things she had no name for. When she wasn't so lost in her daydreams, romanticizing everything, (Y/N)'s hobby was her plants. She doted on them like pets, and took care of them every chance she could. Being in a place like this, with Harry, in a gorgeous dress, was exactly what her dreams were made of.

Coming up to an unfamiliar plant, (Y/N) gazed at it with wide eyes. The open leaves resembled that of an open jaw, with spines on the very edge of the leaves acting as teeth. It was colored a bright, smooth green, not a single blemish altering the perfection. Curiosity took over as she reached out, attempting to touch the spines to see if they were as sharp as they looked. She jumped back with a yelp when the leaves snapped together upon contact, acting just like the gnashing jaw she had compared them to.

In an instant, Harry was at her side, cradling her back to him with her hand clasped in his.

"It didn't get you, did it?" he asked with a concerned furrow to his brow. He cradled her hand in his palm, the pad of his thumb brushing over her fingertips as if he could heal any wound with a touch.

"No, I am alright," she answered, canting her head as her eyes stayed locked on the biting plant, watching as it reopened its jaws for the next victim, "Does it always do that?"

Bundling her hand in his own, Harry followed her this time as she approached the trap once more. "Only when it is trying to eat," he shared, watching her with the same fascination she offered to the plant.

"It eats? What do you mean?"

"It is called a Venus Fly Trap," Harry explained, "Unlike the others, it eats meat—bugs and the like. When it thinks it's caught any prey, it'll snap closed and take its meal."

(Y/N) had never heard of a predator plant—had never even imagined something like this could exist. "You feed it?"

"It does rather well for itself, I choose not to interfere too much."

She tried to picture something that looked so flimsy, a pair of leaves that mechanically moved together, could trap a living being. "Has it ever bitten you before?"

"Once," Harry admitted, "It was more startling than anything. That is when Mitchell shared that we would most likely benefit from leaving it alone."

Without much thought, she reached out once more as if to test the theory that the trap was nothing more than a scare. Harry quickly had her hands bundled in his own, twirling her away from the exotic bloom. He shook his head when his eyes met hers, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"I have said it before, but it always surprises me how much you lack any sense of survival," he laughed, pulling her hands to his chilled chest, "Though I said it did not hurt, does not mean you should try it out yourself."

"Sorry," she answered, a sheepish smile on her lips, "I just wanted to try for myself."

"Don't," he teased, bringing her hands to his lips where he gave her a soft smattering of kisses along the fingertips.

A soft laugh plumed from (Y/N)'s lips as she watched him, wiggling her hands out of his to cradle his cheeks in her palms. "This place is wonderful, Harry. I had no idea you wanted to make something like this."

He leaned into the warmth of her touch. "I made it for you."

(Y/N) felt her features soften; her eyes rounded out, cheeks softened around the width of her smile, every muscle she hadn't even realized she was tensing now going lax. "Did you really?" she crooned, following the refractions of light that danced over his features from the moonlight streaming through.

"Of course, I did," he smiled, "I'd do anything for you."

It was a moment like this that she wondered if she could really handle being engaged for a whole two years the way her sister was. She had spent so many years dreaming up someone like Harry, she wasn't sure if she could wait that much longer to have him be hers in every real way. All she could do was hold him tighter.

Harry's smile widened as he gazed down at her. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head."

"Just you," (Y/N) answered, "Always you."

Turning his head in between her hands, Harry pressed his lips not puckered kisses against the palms of her hands. She could feel him smiling against her skin.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, my love, but I am forever grateful." He pulled her hands from his cheeks only to hold them against his chest once more. His features, though still swimming in adoration, settled into something more somber then. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something out here."

"Oh?" (Y/N) sounded.

For the first time since they met, (Y/N) saw a small amount of uncertainty leak into his gaze. "I know we have talked some about our future," he started, gaze traveling over her features to capture any and every reaction, "And, I have been thinking about something that I wanted to share with you."

"Okay," she nodded, trying not to betray her own nerves on her face, "Something good, I hope."

A faint dimple was pushed into Harry's cheek as he stretched his smile that much more. "I hope so, as well." Within a breath, he was entirely serious once more. "You know that I wish to marry you, right? Outside of just our talks in your bedroom, I have meant every word I have said about sharing my life with you."

"I do," she smiled, hoping to lessen his worry, "And I feel the same. I wish we could be married tomorrow, even."

Small traces of relief had his features loosening up, the cut of his jaw rounding and his brows relaxing. "I do as well, but I want to do that the right way, with a real wedding and everything else you could want. Though, I feel that the both of us are rather impatient." (Y/N) let out a small fan of laughter at his truth. "Because of that, I have been thinking and found some old correspondence with a friend that gave me an idea." He paused before continued, as if gathering his words. "Do you remember the Blood Bond I told you about?"

(Y/N) gave a silent nod. She could recall the short details he had shared with her and the way her mind had traced back to the binding more than once in her daydreams.

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, as neither of us really understand what a Blood Bond truly entails outside of theory, but I have wondered if... If you might be willing to complete a Blood Bond with me." He rolled his lips between his teeth wrestling with both his nervousness at presenting the idea as well as his hope for her answer. "I found letters from an old friend, someone who knew someone else who had completed the bond with another, and it sounded promising. There weren't many details, but they sounded happy."

"Were they—" (Y/N) floundered over her question, unable to find the right terms, "Were they both like you? Or was one of them like me?"

His mouth formed a grim line. "Both were like me. I can't find anything on any couple like us, unfortunately. I suppose we might be the first," Harry posited, the very corner of his mouth turning upwards.

While (Y/N) was more than warm to the idea of bonding with Harry—marrying him in the way they could without having the follow the steps of courting and engagement while also easing her father into the idea—she was unsure. The lack of details that even Harry knew tickled a part of her mind she had trouble ignoring.

"Would it...If we did, would it make me like you?" While she loved Harry for who he was, and understood his story, there was little desire in her to completely forgo her own life in favor of a still heart (and the blood thing was still very much not something she had interest in).

"I do not think so, but, again, I can't be sure." It appeared as if it pained him to give her so little detail. "But, I would never offer this if I did not think it would be a good option for us, darling. Selfishly, even if we can't share this with anyone, I don't know if I can wait much longer before I know I am yours and you are mine."

He peeked at her through his lashes, reflections of green glimmering in the pale moonlight. (Y/N) understood what he meant. While this would be another secret between them, something she couldn't even share with her father, it was enough to look at him and know that Harry was hers and she was his. It was enough to know that there was a place they belonged: at each other's sides.

Pinching her bottom lip between her teeth she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore than I can imagine a regular bite does," he offered, giving a small shrug of his shoulders, "But, I can't be sure. I would do everything I could to make it as painless as possible, darling."

There was a part of (Y/N) that stayed wary, and urged her to do the same. It poked holes in the logic and filled everything with doubt. There was no easy way to be the first, there was no safe way. There was so much unknown about what could happen should she bare her neck for him and allow Harry to bind them together in whatever way the Blood Bond would do. There was even a chance that she could drop dead immediately after, leaving the rest of her life—including Harry—behind.

There was no way to be sure that nothing terrible would happen, but the rest of her wasn't certain if that really mattered. She had no way of knowing that Harry was telling the truth when he revealed his nature to her, or if she could be sure that she was truly safe around him. She had no way of knowing that she was doing the right thing by continuing to invite him to her and to fall in love with him on the way. But she did each of those things anyway, because she had felt in her bones that it was right. She had felt that she could trust Harry with everything—every fall down the rabbit hole of love, every time they were alone with her neck at his teeth, everything that her instincts told her was okay because she trusted him.

That trust in him piped up, flicking (Y/N)'s gaze to match his as he patiently waited for her answer. "Okay."

Harry perked up at the word. "Okay?"

The beginnings of an ecstatic grin bubbled over her features. "I want to bond with you. We'll learn all of this together. I don't want to go another day without being yours."

In the middle of the greenhouse, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest before lifting her off of her feet. (Y/N) giggled, looping her own arms around his neck and clinging to him as he spun her around. Her dress twirled around them, enclosing Harry in lily white fabric as if he were the center of a moonlit bloom.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his face burrowed in her neck with his nose skimming the column.

(Y/N) could only smile, her eyes shuttering closed. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. This is the kind of joy she pictured when she finally found her one and she agreed to spend her life with him—another assurance that she was doing the right thing. Something so wrong or hasty wouldn't feel so good.

Positing her down on the edge of a sparsely populated table, Harry stood between her legs as he settled his hands on her thighs over her silken dress. He had a bubbling smile on his face as he looked up at her, his eyes almost entirely green with only his pupil and a few slivers of the familiar coal remaining.

"I will write to my friend, and see if he has any more answers. Then, when you're ready, we can—"

A furrow pinched (Y/N) brow as she spoke, "We're not doing it tonight?"

Harry paused to consider her question. "I thought... I don't want to push you or make you feel as if we have to do this tonight. I figured you would like more time."

While Harry was erring on the side of caution—once again being the more responsible of the two compared to her impulsiveness—she didn't want to do the same. She had no fear of the Venus Fly Trap despite almost being caught in its clutches, and she had no fear of Harry and the unknown.

"I don't need any more time," (Y/N) cemented, reaching to settle her hands on his shoulders with her fingertips digging into the luxe velvet, "I trust you, and I don't want to wait anymore. I waited my whole life to find someone like you—I practically dreamt you up. I don't need time to be sure."

As she spoke, Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching her mouth wrap around every word and the devotion of which she hoped he felt. His own lips had fallen open in a small gape, eyes glimmering as if he were looking at the sun. HIs hands on her thighs pulsed, tightening his grip as if he could drift away at any moment.

He didn't have to say it for (Y/N) to know that he loved her. That he knew what it was like to wait and hope there was someone there at the end who understood.

Reaching to cradle her cheeks in his palms, he brought her in for a slow kiss, his lips slotted between hers with his nose brushing against her own. There was an urgency behind it that she had never felt from him before.

"I love you," he murmured.

The delicate curl of her lips had him pulling away just enough to drag his kisses over her cheek. "I love you, too."

"I'm not certain in what I'm doing, (Y/N), so I need you to tell me if I am hurting you. I do not want this to be ruined because of me, so please stop me if you feel the need." His lips never lifted from her skin as he spoke, his words being painted across in sweeps of his breath and skims of his nose.

"I trust you," she reiterated, dipping her head back as he descended lower towards her throat, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he responded simply, before pulling away, "But you must promise me. If there's even a moment where you are no longer sure, do whatever you need to do to make me stop."

His jaw was set and eyes hard as he spoke, determination settling on his features. "I promise," she said, her hands still firm on his shoulders, "If anything changes, I will tell you."

A small curl lifted his lips as he took her vow, features softening. "I will tell you before I bite, is that okay?"

"Please," she responded, relaxing into his arms as he wrapped them around her middle with his hands spanning the planes of her back. As much as she did trust him, the fact that his teeth would be biting into her neck in a few moments was most likely going to be her least favorite part of their bonding.

When Harry dipped his head down, the chill of his touch grazing her throat, (Y/N) expected to feel the scrape of his teeth, the point of something predatory catching on her skin. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips and the drag of his nose over the column. He worked slowly, familiarly, kissing his way along until he stopped. He paused on the side of her throat, just under where her pulse thrummed.

"I'm going to bite here, alright?" he murmured, "Just long enough to forge the bond, darling."

She clenched her hands on his shoulders. "Okay."

Against her throat, she could feel his lips moving though there was no sound. She wanted to ask what he was saying, but before she had a chance that searing slice she had been waiting for finally struck.

The feeling took her breath away, her hands tightening on his shoulders. It didn't hurt like a cut from a knife or a stab from a needle, no—Harry's bite burned. It was a bubbling burn, as if something inside her was melting all within the span of a second. The searing brought tears to her eyes, stealing her breath before she had a chance to understand.

Just as quickly as the burning started, it was gone. In its place was something pleasantly cool, like a breeze on a warm day. Her vision cleared with her breath restored. She was hyper aware of Harry's shoulders under her hands, the warmth of his velvet jacket and the welcome chill from his skin. She clung to him, conscious of every stretch of fabric on her skin and every anchoring touch he gave her. It was overwhelming, verging on euphoric, urging her to shutter her eyes and absorb every second.

The moment could have lasted anywhere from two hours long to two seconds, (Y/N) had no way of telling by the time Harry pulled away. He kept his grip on her firm, his arms barred around her back as she came back down to the greenhouse.

With a fluttering blink of her lashes, (Y/N) saw Harry for what he was, for the very first time.

He looked at her with eyes darker than she had ever seen before, no semblance of any green she was accustomed to. She could clearly see a flush on his cheeks, appearing more human than she had ever realized he wasn't. The most jarring part: the blood dripping down his chin. It was a stark rub against his skin, staining his lips and coating his teeth.

That was her blood rolling down his lips.

For the first time since meeting him, she felt that fear she had lacked. It was nothing more than a zip up her spine, but it was there. If he were any other person, any other version of him in the years past, this would be the last thing she saw before she would be laid to rest on the forest floor with her throat ripped out.

As much as she was startled at the sight, the feel of her blood dripping down her neck, she also saw the way he was looking at her. Within the depths of his dark eyes, he was seeing her and tasting her and knowing her for the first time. There was no way that she had been the only one to feel that overwhelming euphoria, not when he looked at her like that.

In a distracted movement, he wiped his sleeve over his chin, intending to clear some of the crimson though most of it only smeared over his skin.

He was breathless as he spoke, "Ar—You're... (Y/N)."

Tears filled his eyes as he clung to her.

Though her hand shook, (Y/N) still reached to place her palm on his cheek. She couldn't avoid the blood on his skin, but she didn't have the mind to care as she attempted to comfort him.

"I'm here," she whispered, hooking her ankle around the back of his leg, "You did it."

His hands on her back curled until his fingertips were denting her shoulder blades by how tightly he held her. He shook his head as if to clear whatever was going on inside. "We—It's—Your turn."

In that second, she remembered the small detail she had willfully forgotten. For the Bond to go both ways, she would have to also take his own blood. The prospect of him biting into her didn't seem so bad anymore compared to this.

Her eyes dropped to his neck, floundering suddenly. "I—But, I can't... I'm not like you, I can't... bite."

The fact seemed to hit Harry as well, though his brain was still clearly flooded with whatever it was he was experiencing with his end of the bond forged. He blinked to clear his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her neck.

"I think—I can take care of it," he offered on a stilted tongue.

(Y/N) didn't have any time to question before he was bringing his arm around to his lips, pushing his sleeve out of the way until his pale wrist was on display. The same way he had sunk his teeth into her neck, he now did to his own arm, opening up a gash with decidedly darker and thicker blood than she had ever seen before.

She understood what he was doing for her—taking out the work so she could close her end of the bond by taking in his blood—but she still felt repulsed at the prospect of tasting any of the ichor oozing from his arm. She wasn't like him. She couldn't see any way she could enjoy the taste or the feeling of drinking his blood.

All it took was one glance into his shimmering eyes, the same ones that had pleaded to her to not be scared of him, that prosed over his devotion to her, that had her shakily taking his arm in her grasp.

"Wh-What do I do?"

"Jus' drink, darling," he swallowed, "Quickly. Before it heals."

For the sole fact that she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Harry bite into himself once more, she closed her eyes and brought his wrist to her lips. The second the blood filled her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to retch over and spit it out. It was metallic and heavy, coating her mouth in a way she couldn't compare anything to.

The first gulp was the hardest—the most troubling. Just as soon as she swore her throat was closing, urging her to gag and be rid of everything she was taking down, something changed.

Similar in the way that there was an overwhelming stillness when Harry had bitten her, she was now left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. Before she had been contently in her skin, aware of every motion and touch. This time, she was conscious of everything that wasn't entirely her.

She swore she could feel her own wrist warming, her own thoughts picturing her bent over Harry's arm, the feel of her dress under her palm.

These were Harry's thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. She was no longer just her in that moment.

The Bond was there, allowing her a peek into who it was that was at her side.

Including the immense amount of love he was feeling just then.

She had never been aware of a missing piece in her, never been aware that there could be more of her somewhere, until then. This is what Harry had been feeling when he bit her, when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and clung to her as if she were the only one to give him breath, to make him whole.

Pulling his arm from her mouth, she didn't think twice of the blood staining her lips or coating her chin before she was throwing herself at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she clung to him with tears leaking down her eyes.

That was the Bond she could feel pulsing through her system. Harry was now a part of her just as much as she was his.

There was no doubt their clothing was ruined, blood staining the material that they had no chance of removing, with the ends of (Y/N)'s hair caught in the crossfire, but she couldn't find it in herself to care for more than anything but Harry.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice brittle under the lump in her throat and the tears glazing her eyes. "We did it."

"We did," Harry sighed, the smile on his face apparent in his tone, "I love you so much, darling."

(Y/N) could only close her eyes, melting into his hold with the greenhouse falling away around them. She clung to him tighter.

"I've got you, darling," he murmured into her hair, his voice a soothing balm to her wired nerve endings.

Relaxing into the moment, a quiet smile etched its way onto her lips.

This was going to be the rest of her life.

—————

"Harry, be quiet," (Y/N) giggled into his mouth.

"Why?" he countered, only pulling away just far enough to speak, "It's just us here, remember?"

Drawing him back to her lips with her hands on his cheeks, (Y/N) could barely keep the smile off of her face long enough to kiss him back. She sunk further into the luxe mattress under her back with every earnest press of his lips to hers, the first swipe of his tongue darting out to run along the seam of her lips.

After stumbling their way out of the greenhouse and through the gardens, Harry had led her to his bedroom with a kind of giddiness she had never seen in him before. Despite the blood on his face, he was almost child-like in his wonder with the way he looked at her.

His bedroom was just as laden in luxury as the rest of the castle, though it was clear that there was someone actually inhabiting the space. She could see stamps of his presence everywhere; in the stationery on his desk to the unkempt bedding as if he couldn't be bothered to remake his bed everyday despite having nothing but time to fill. A pile of lavender bundles and chamomile blooms were stacked on his bedside, familiar twine holding the herbs together.

When he offered her the bathroom to clean off, (Y/N) didn't hesitate, wanting to clean herself from the crust that was forming on her chin and the bits of blood that had dried in her hair. By the time she finished, there was a nightgown waiting for her and an invitation on familiar stationery to join Harry in his room when she was ready.

Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time, luxuriated in the thick towels and scented lotion. There were different creams and oils that she didn't recognize, the kind she would have loved to take her time and learn. But there was someone waiting for her—someone that was as close to her husband as he could be without sending her down the aisle in a white dress.

She didn't want to leave him waiting.

(Though, she did notice that the bite he had given to her neck was healed almost completely. The wound that had bled enough to fill his mouth was now reduced to a pair of pin pricks on the side of her neck, just barely visible if someone was looking. She was going to have to ask at some point if that was the effect of the bond mending her skin).

That was how she found herself with Harry hovering above her, damp hair tossed across his pillow and her hands cradling his cheeks.

"I can feel you right here," he murmured to her in wonder, his hand on his chest where his unbeating heart sat.

Sprinkling her own kisses along his cheek, she smiled against his skin. "I can feel you in my heart, too," she whispered against his skin.

Drawing away, (Y/N) tried to chase him for another kiss before failing and sinking back into her pillow with a breathy laugh. Harry's smile widened at the sound. His gaze slipped over her with enough depth that she could have sworn his hands followed the trail, goosebumps erupting on her skin.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," (Y/N) said, stealing the same line he said to her more than once.

Matching her gaze once more, he looked at her with gleaming green shards in his eyes. "Just you. Always you."

Creases appeared by her eyes from just how far her smile stretched. She knew that line just as well. "Of course it is," she teased, petting the pad of her thumb along the height of his cheek bone,

"I mean it, my love" he smiled, sweeping a hand across her forehead to pull any stray hairs out of the way, "I have never felt before the way I do right now. Because of you."

(Y/N)'s heart surged at his words. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Through something she was beginning to understand as their bond, she felt the ardent truth in Harry's words as much as she could hear it. There wasn't enough vocabulary available to tell him what it meant to her to feel and hear his love.

Selfishly, she resorted to tugging him down for a kiss instead, hoping he understood just as well.

He smiled into the kiss, a good sign, just before he settled in with her.

With her legs spread wide for his hips to sit between, she couldn't help but to cling to him. There was no other way she could tell him how much she loved him, how deeply excited she was to spend the rest of the unknown with him. The feeling brought her back to the night before, when he had invited her here in the first place—when he had told her he loved her.

Despite the chill of his touch, she had never felt so warm when recalling the memory.

Her hands on his cheeks slid down from his face, following the line of his neck to his shoulders. The neck of his loosely buttoned shirt gave way under her touch, allowing more of his cold skin to sit on display for her to graze her fingers over.

With their mouths slotted together, (Y/N) grazed one hand up the column of his throat unsure of if it was her own warmth being reflected back or if he was feeling the same way as she and something had awoken in his body. Without thinking, she dragged her nails lightly down his skin, entranced by the new skin she had never touched and barely seen before.

Harry let out a low moan into her mouth, the sound rumbling against her own chest. Through the bond, she felt that touch of euphoria she was only familiar with through the bite in the greenhouse. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

Pulling away from her mouth, he dragged his kisses down the line of her jaw. "What was that for, darling?" he asked, his voice a deep grumble compared to the dulcet tones he typically served her.

"Did you like it?" she countered, a sheepish tone to her voice. She hadn't meant anything by it, really.

It was the smile she felt against her skin that had her relaxing. "I did," he answered, dragging his lips down the slope of her neck, "Is that what you wanted?"

"I always want to make you happy," she simply chirped back.

Drawing away, Harry hovered over her with a slight curl to his lips and only a sliver of green showing around his dark pupils. "Your job is terribly easy then," he smiled, "As I can't help but feel anything but completely ecstatic around you."

(Y/N) could only shake her head, suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her with her face buried in his neck. She could feel the plume of laughter he let out as much as she could hear it.

Pressing his weight into her as he reciprocated her hold, he wrapped his arms around her middle in a snug hug. The length of his body was pressed against hers, including the hard to ignore ridge nudging between her legs. While it wasn't the first time she had felt as much between the sheets in her bedroom, it still took her breath away.

Harry undoubtedly felt her reaction, causing him to pull away just enough to look down at her. "What's wrong, love?"

She floundered over her words, unsure of how exactly to phrase what she had caused her gasp and the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. "You—I mean... You're—"

Pursing his lips, Harry held back his smile. "I know, darling," he smiled, "Don't worry, alright? We've done enough tonight, I don't think we need to add anymore new experiences like we had planned."

"But—" She unceremoniously dropped her gaze between them as if she could get a peek at what was prodding at her core. "I don't want to... You're not hurting, are you?"

He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his mouth then. "No, I am not hurting," he smiled, squeezing her to him one last time before relinquishing his hold.

Meandering out from between her legs, he moved to lay beside her. (Y/N) rolled with him, unwilling to let him go very far before he settled at her side, sharing the same pillow despite the vast amount of negative space available.

"You don't want me to...?" (Y/N) trailed off, unsure of what exactly she was asking. She knew Harry had asked her over, hoping to take advantage of the time alone without having to worry about the creaks of her own home. Despite the turns that night had taken, she didn't want him to believe she was no longer willing, even if she was a bit exhausted.

Harry's smile was tender on his lips, adoring just as his eyes were. He took one of her hands that had been clasped behind his neck and brought her palm to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back in a smattering of kisses, he trailed that line up to her wrist and along her arm until she could no longer contain her giggling. The bright smile he gave in response had to match that of her own.

"Not tonight, my love," he crooned, "I know we had talked about how we wanted to spend this night by ourselves, but I know my outlook on the night has changed some." His gaze dropped to the pinprick marks on her neck, his features brightening that much more at the sight. "I don't feel any rush to do more. We have all the time in the world to learn each other in that way. I'd rather tonight be about you and I and learning the bond we now have."

Through that bond, she could feel his sincerity. There was no rush in him, nothing clamoring to take her virginity just to have it. It was more important to him to know his wife—his beloved, his bonded. Through his eyes, she saw the stretch of time they had together and the many nights they could fill between the sheets. There was no rush to be had when he had her for the rest of their lives.

"You're sure?" she asked, shuffling closer to him over the velvet duvet, "I don't want to disappoint you."

"How could you disappoint me, my love?" he asked through a dazzling smile, dimples denting his cheeks and perfect teeth on display. He brushed his hand over her cheek, fingertips grazing the fan of her lashes and the height of her cheekbone as if she were the most delicate of flowers in his garden. "You're here," he said in awe, "In my bed, brave enough to bond with me, and looking at me with stars in your eyes. How could I ever be disappointed with you?"

Heart thumping in her chest, (Y/N) looked at him and saw the life he had envisioned.

There were so many nights they were going to spend just like this, laden in velvet and kisses, chilling touches and warm gazes. They had all the time in the world, there was no reason not to savor these quiet moments with him.

All she could do was pull him in for a kiss.

—————

The following morning, (Y/N) was exhausted as she traipsed around the apothecary, though she felt as if she were floating off her feet. She took care to restock each and every cubby, straightening the displays and ensuring only the best of the best were placed out for customers. Her father was manning the register as she did so, leaving her to sit in her rose petal thoughts and appreciate the stiff muscles of her neck and bruises from her early morning climb back into her bedroom.

It was all reminders of the best night of her life, she decided. Her wedding night—even if it wasn't in the traditional sense.

There was a new piece that now lived inside her, a remnant of Harry's soul that now replaced the piece she had given him last night. It felt easier to breathe, now knowing that he was on the other side.

More than once since starting her day, her father had asked what had made her so chipper. She had only replied that she had slept well, or simply woke up in a good mood. She couldn't wait for the day that she could tell him that it was Harry that had her heart so full and eyes so bright.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting that a customer was coming in, though that wasn't what had (Y/N) perking up in her spot. There was a fumbling in her chest, as if her heart knew something she didn't.

Looking over her shoulder, her lungs squeezed when she saw who had walked through the door.

Armed with a draping bouquet of wisteria and the tiny bell-shaped blooms of lily of the valley, was Harry. He was dressed immaculately as ever, though she could see a color in his cheeks and his eyes almost glimmering with the amount of green shards that had surfaced. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father stiffen at his presence, though Harry gave her a passing glance with a lopsided smile before even acknowledging his presence.

"Mr. Styles," her father gruffly greeted him, "How can we help you today?"

"Actually, sir," Harry started, a pleasant voice to match his expression though (Y/N) could see amusement swimming in the depths, "I was hoping I could have a chance to speak with your daughter."

"She's busy at the moment, but I can help you with anything you need." Her father's voice now held an edge to it.

"Unfortunately," Harry said, skipping his gaze back to her where she stood with her hands knotted behind her back, "I don't think you can help me with this, sir. I was looking to ask for her permission to officially begin courting her—if she is interested, anyway"

(Y/N) had no hope of wiping the smile from her face, but she did everything she could to keep herself from launching into her husband. Instead, before her father could make any objection of any kind, she piped up with, "I am definitely interested, Mr. Styles. You have all the permission in the world."

Though she was sure that if she spared her father a glance he would be just as angry as the night he had thrown her invitation into the furnace, but she couldn't draw her eyes from Harry.

She couldn't wait to marry him. For the second time, technically.

—————

lily of the valley, though delicate, can stop the heart when consumed

ahhhhh that is the end of my little Halloween/fall story! now my break will be starting and ill be back with more writing after the new year!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas for anythign at all!

353 notes · View notes

syndxlla · 11 months

Text

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high rewards and self-indulgent Zelink fanfic. Canon-compliant, takes place between BOTW and TOTK

chapter three: She is beautiful, I am a mess

Read chapter two here

My masterlist

Song: Lights are On by Tom Rosenthal

Summary: Link processes his destiny while Zelda slowly recovers. Link meets with an old friend, and realizes how much he wants to Zelda in his life.

Warnings: PTSD, implied self-harm, illness, trauma

Word Count: 3.3k words

Authors note: The last line of this? Scrumptious. I ate that up. Also I’m going to start doing different pieces of art/gifs at the start of each chapter mostly so I can see the differences in the notifications! Thanks for all the support! Everyone has been so kind this is easily the most supportive fan base I’ve ever written for.

Link doesn’t leave her side the entire night, yet again. He sits on a stool pushed against the bed, and watches as she breathes in the sleep. He refuses to sleep, which means he’s gone about four days now with very little actual rest. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but fighting Ganon on the second day of that no sleep schedule has really taken a toll on his physical health.

In his quiet contemplation as Zelda rested, the weight of what just happened set in. His heart rate rose as he remembered the sight of the Calamity, its spider-like body dripping with malice and disgust as it sneered at him. The stench is still pungent in his memory, his bad ear still beats with the blood that filled his body as he faced his destiny for a second time. He’s supposed to be courageous, unafraid and rarely daunted by his fate, but in reality he’s terrified.

Link doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the feeling in his bones as witnessed by the beast. How he felt paralyzed, how the night before he prayed to the Goddess that he wouldn’t wake up. Make someone else do it, please.

He could never admit this to anyone, and even struggles to admit it to himself. If he’s supposed to be the closest thing to the God of Bravery, why does he feel like such a pathetic coward most of the time? Maybe it was his reckless abandon that caused his status, or the fact that he’s so desensitized to the horrors of his knighthood. But those things do not equate to courage.

What even was courage, he asks himself.

He looks at Zelda. “She is beautiful”, he thinks “I am a mess”.

Link places a nervous thumb to her jaw with trepidation. He gently holds her face, soft enough that it wouldn’t wake her. Her skin is so soft, her eyelashes so gentle, her breathing even. Does she have any idea how beautiful she is when she sleeps?

When day finally breaks, Link realizes how cold it’s gotten in the house, and he takes the brave step of leaving the sleeping princess to build a fire in the hearth. He does so quickly, using a fire arrow. He pulls on a warm shirt, and quickly returns upstairs to Zelda.

She was awake, looking up at him.

“You should keep sleeping.” He whispers.

She groans, “Why did you leave?” She was aware enough to tell?

“I built a fire.” Link explains, "It's cold.”

“Oh.” Zelda whispers, “I am cold.”

Link crosses to his dresser and pulls out a woven blanket from the bottom drawer, draping it over her and the blanket she already had. She whispers thank you. ”Did you dream?” Link asks.

Zelda nods.

“It was me and my mom, we were eating and laughing together.” She describes and Link smiles. He places his hand against her forehead, and feels that she’s burning up. Of course she has a fever, that would cause her body to have the chills, that on top of a cold house wasn’t a good fit.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, vocalizing from a whisper for the first time.

Zelda thinks about it for a moment, she’s so snuggled up in the blankets all he can see is her face. “I’m not sick.” She states. Link is skeptical, but he nods.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to leave me again?” She asks.

“I might. I think I’ll go into town and get some things from the market, and I should probably send a message to Impa that we’re alive.” Link explains. Zelda frowns.

“I’m scared to be alone again.”

Link frowns, “You’ll be okay. But you need to sleep, your body is trying to recover from-“ He stops himself, he doesn't need to explain any further.

“You need sleep, too.” Zelda replies. She was right.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugs it off. “But you need to promise me that you’ll be okay if I leave for a few hours, alright?”

Zelda groans, “You’ll come back, right?”

“Of course.”

It’s a few more hours before he leaves, he waits until Zelda falls back asleep, and it’s mid-morning when he finally does. He makes his way into Hateno Village, which is as lively as ever. He first stops in at the general store, buying a few essential items, and telling the store keeper about where he was last.

“You’re telling me you got rid of that thing at Hyrule Castle?” He asks, skeptical. Link just nods and shrugs as he examines a swift carrot. Like it was no big deal. The man laughs behind the counter, “And you lived to tell the tale? I don’t believe it.” He scoffs.

Link sets his items on the table between them, digging out a handful of rupees. “Well, I lived to tell the tale of Naydra last year, you all witnessed that, didn’t you?”

“I suppose… but that thing at the castle is a legend, I never even saw it. Just got told ghost stories of it as a boy.” His voice was gruff.

Link smiles, “whatever you want to believe, you don’t have to believe me.” Link sets to rupees down.

“That’s more than the cost.” The man states.

“Keep it.” Link pushes it towards him before putting his items in his pouch. “Use it to fix your roof, I saw it was leaking.”

The man smiles, “you’re always so good to us, Link. This village owes you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, except maybe your trust. The story will spread and rumors will, too.” Link turns to leave, but stops just outside of the door, speaking over his shoulder. “It wasn’t a ghost either, it was a spider-like thing that hatched out of a cocoon with giant axes and swords.” Link opens his arms up to show the size, “Probably at least the size of three oxen!” The shopkeeper's face goes pale, “But that wasn’t even the hard part!” Link starts to smile mischievously, “Then we took the battle onto Hyrule Field, and he turned into a massive pig. As big as a house, or bigger.”

The owner was dumbfounded, unable to reply at first, but then he shook his head, “You have quite the imagination, Link!” He chuckles and waves him off. Link just grins as he exits the shop.

He makes his way up the mountain to Purah and Symin’s, making a stop at the farm to pet the cows and help the owner with a broken fence post in trade for some milk. It was about noon now, and he wasn’t expecting to take as long to get to the Tech Lab, but the fence was absolutely destroyed. The farmer didn’t know what caused it, but it certainly wasn’t a cow…

The light on the Hateno valley is warm and inviting. It will be the harvest soon. Link had missed his days here. Early on after he woke up, he spent weeks at a time in this little village. Mostly because he was still too poor to afford sleeping anywhere other than his home. It was a safe home base for him when he was freeing the divine beasts. It wasn’t until he had laid his friends' spirits to rest that he became the wild child of the forest he was now. The last year or so he stopped spending more than a few days anywhere, it was the anxiety of the upcoming battle he kept avoiding that caused him to become such a nomad. He learned that it was always free to sleep in trees.

He gets to the lab, and before he can even open the door, Purah is swinging the door open. “Linky! You’re alive!” She cheers, looking up at him.

”I am,” Link replies with a smile, “and Zelda is, too.”

Purah smiles wide, her eyes becoming fiery, “Incredible. Is she okay!” She opens the door for Link, he enters the messy-as-usual lab, setting his sack of goodies down on the table.

“I don’t know…” Link shakes his head, “She’s very tired all the time, and she passed out quite unexpectedly last night.” He sighs. “I’m actually rather worried about her.” He admits. “It took me a long time to wake her up after she passed out, too. Longer than it should have.” Purah walks over to the table before climbing on top of it to Link’s eye-level.

“But she’s alive! And I’m assuming her body has been preserved, no?”

“It has, she doesn’t look a day over seventeen. But her spirit and her mind has changed, she’s tired.”

“Aren’t we all…” Purah shakes her head, “But no one as much as her.” She shrugs, “I would love to run some tests on you two, it might help me figure out my age issue.”

“More tests? I thought you said you were done with me?” Link groans.

“Nope, now that Zelda is here I want to take a sample of her DNA, too, and see if I can reverse-engineer it to cross with my DNA and get me back to my preferred physical age. I’m sick of this.” She gestures to her child-like state.

“When she’s feeling better I’ll ask her. I’m sure she’ll say yes, considering her love of science and all.”

“Alright Linky, what are you here for, I know you didn’t come to just talk, you always need something from me.” She teases.

“Alright Purah… don’t be mad.” He says as he reaches into his pouch to pull out a smashed and destroyed sheikah slate: the same one that got him through his quest.

Purah’s face goes white. “You did not just do that to an ancient piece of indestructible tech.” She reaches for it, taking the device in her hand and cringing.

“Well it wasn’t that indestructible, now was it?” Link asks with an awkward laugh.

“How?” Purah asks, traumatized.

“It happened while I fought Ganon, it kind of… exploded, and then he trampled it as a giant hog in Hyrule field.”

“That is…” She chooses her words carefully, “Epic, Linky.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No! But you’re gonna be when you can warp to sheikah hotspots. You’ll just have to go on foot like the rest of us. Speaking of, did you see what happened to the shrine in the ocean?”

“What?” He obviously didn’t.

“It sunk back into the ground, completely gone! Symin watched it happen! I’m curious about that happening to the other sheikah tech…” She gets lost in thought, and Link realizes that they all might disappear just as fast as they were found. “No one is gonna be more heartbroken about this than the Princess.” Purah finishes her thoughts.

“I’m hiding it from her. She can’t take a heart break in this state.” Link groans, sitting down in one of the chairs by the table. “Purah… I need you to send a message to Impa. I would go myself in person and be back by dinner but I can’t because the slate is gone. I know you sheikah have weird ways of communicating through distance, especially you sisters.” Link sighs.

“Oh she’ll beat you if you don’t go in person. You know how she is.”

“Yes. Which is why I am absolutely sick over this. But I can’t leave Zelda, she’s not okay, and I don’t know how long it’s going to be until she is.” He explains. “Impa can be mad at me all she wants, but she deserves to know that we are both alive and safe, and Ganon is not.”

Purah squints, “Fine. But you owe me.”

“As if saving the world wasn’t enough.” Link scoffs playfully.

“Hey! Don’t get cocky, no one likes a cocky hero. Besides, it’s not like you did it on your first try.” Purah jumps down from the table and Link’s entire body seizes. She freezes in her tracks when she realizes she said that out loud. She slowly turns around to see Link tense and unhappy. “Linky… I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

He says nothing at first, “Is that what you guys say about me?”

“Link, we've always pushed each other's buttons like that.”

“It’s fine.” He sighs, it wasn’t fine. He signs, “I’m leaving. I don’t need anyone else’s shit.” He always signed when his emotions were at risk of betraying his words. He didn’t want to upset someone with his words. Purah isn’t very good at signs, but she gets the gist.

It was rare to see Link genuinely mad, especially at someone he cared about and knows is good. But that was out of line.

“Link…”

“Will you just tell Impa that we’re okay. Both of us. The calamity is gone and we’ll come visit as soon as we get our strength back.” He grabs his belongings and heads out.

“Wait-“ Purah tries to stop him but he leaves too fast. He takes a deep breath when he gets outside, looking out towards the sea. He walks towards the edge of the cliff, staring out at the horizon, letting the salty sea air blow on his skin. He looks where the shrine that lived in the water once was, and nothing was there but the original mound of island sand it sat on.

Back at home, Zelda is still in bed, and Link frowns when he sees her. He sits on his stool next to her, placing his hand against her forehead again. Her fever hasn’t broken.

“I’m home.” He whispers, and she stirs awake, her green eyes looking up at him. She smiles.

“I had the most wonderful dream.” She sighs. “We were at the beach, you and I, and Impa and Urbosa… and my mother.” Link worries that she dreams about those who have passed, he brushes some of her golden hair out of her face. “We looked at the water and listened to the seagulls. My mother was so beautiful and healthy, not like how she was when I remembered her.”

Zelda was very young when her mother died, and she was quite ill for the years leading up to her passing. Link remembered that, he remembered many of the things Zelda opened up to him about in their final days before The Calamity. “Do you want some water?” Link asks, she nods. He stands up, making his way to the well outside and scooping a bucket of it before coming back in. He finds her sitting up in bed.

“Did you get up all by yourself?” He asks with a smile. She nods, her face still pale and expression lost. She was much worse today. Link scoops some water out with a cup, and hands it to her. She shakily holds it in both hands, bringing the wooden mug up to her lips and sipping lightly. Link sits beside her this time, but he feels petrified.

In the last two days they've already crossed so many boundaries. He feels as though he has to be the stoic Knight from before, never looking at her for too long, not speaking unless spoken to, and especially not touching without explicit permission. That was a whole lifetime ago, however, and he’s barely the same person he was when those were the rules.

But even so, he can’t help but follow those roles that he keeps breaking. He shouldn’t see her in such a state: shirt too loose, eyes droopy, sighs so gentle and alluring it could tame a lynel.

He knows no one is watching them, no one is there to judge them, but he cannot bring himself to hold her hand as she shakes, even though he desperately wants to. Placing his hand on her head to check for temperature and burns in her hair from her face was already a serious breach of protocol, and yet when he did it, he felt so comfortable, so safe. He felt more like himself.

Maybe what’s holding him back is the knowledge that she didn’t lose her memories. To her, he is supposed to be that obedient servant.

He knows they got very close towards the end. Based on the memories he’s recollected, he knows they broke those rules far more than they should have. But it was always by Zelda’s instigation. She wanted him to place his hand on the small of her back as they walked, she asked him to lace up her goddess dress, she initiated the gentle touches and hugs of despair.

Now, he’s terrified of taking advantage of her in her sickly state, but he wants so badly to lie with her. To finally get some rest of his own, in his own bed, holding the girl he worked so tirelessly to rescue.

He wishes he could rest as a reward.

He reminds himself that her presence, safety and life is reward enough.

And goddess, is that a wonderful reward. Her weight sinking down the bed, her intoxicating smell, their shoulders just barely brushing. She was incredible, completing a feat that no one had ever come close to accomplishing, and here she was, in his home, in his bed, wearing his clothes.

Link's stomach flips, and he immediately forces himself to relax. Realizing how immature his though process was. This was a princess, not a girl in the Gerduo Brothel. He was confused.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks him, pulling him out of his rampant thoughts. He snaps back to reality.

“What?” He turns to see her looking up at him with her shiny eyes. “Oh…” He desperately wants to tell her, tell her that he’s thinking of her and only her. For three years he spent sleepless nights staring at the heavens and thinking about her. How he hungrily searched for every memory just to hear her voice, and how he took her diary out of the castle to read every page, even the ones that were scribbled with doodles and blacked-out poetry. He wanted to tell her that he fell for her the moment she told him to open-his-eyes, and when he finally remembered what she looked like, she was even prettier than what he imagined.

“…Horses.” He says, dumbfounded and foolish. She smiles.

“I’ve always admired how you loved them. You were the best rider in all of the guard, I fully believe it’s because of how gentle you were with them. They trusted you, which made them listen to you.”

The way she spoke was so thoughtful, so intelligent. Link catches himself accidentally looking at her lips, but yanks his eyes away.

“W-What were you thinking about?” He asks.

She looks off, swallowing thickly. Zelda then lifts her hand, holding it palm up, staring at it. Nothing happens.

“My gift isn’t working anymore.” She states. “I tried while you were getting the water, and look, nothing.” Zelda explains. Link looks at her hand, not knowing what he’s supposed to see.

Her hand is so soft, her fingers long and slender, her nails clean and rounded to perfection.

Her wrists are littered with old scars.

Link wants to take her hand. She sets it down in her lap, “I suppose that’s alright. I don’t need them anymore.”

“What was it like?” Link asks. “In that castle.” Zelda shudders. “You don’t have to say.” Link states.

Zelda carefully constructs her words, “Cold. All the time I was cold. I wasn’t conscious usually, but I wasn’t… unconscious either. I know it makes no sense. I was in a sort of trance. Time seemed to move at a rapid pace while also simultaneously standing still.” She looks at him, rotating her body to face him, he mirrors her.

“Did he ever… say anything?” Link asked.

Zelda nodded, “In the beginning he would whisper constantly, but it was an ancient language I didn’t understand. The longer time went on, the more tired he got, but the wiser I became. He spoke less, and I was able to pick up on certain words and phrases. He didn’t expect me to last as long as I did, that’s for certain.”

Link listens intently, “How did you do it, last so long?” He asks.

Zelda’s big, green eyes meet his. She takes his hand with hers.

“Because I knew one day you would wake up.”

—

Read Chapter four here

392 notes · View notes

hereisrachel · 7 months

Text

Vladimir Makarov dating headcanons (?) pt.2

I don't know if this is fanfic or headcanons atp sorry😭

Tws : Suicide attempt, self harm, probably ooc, Manipulation, toxic relationship

All people break after some time right?

So did you.

You didn't know when the blade sliding across your skin was the only thing you felt.

The last 3 weeks felt like fever dream, as you sat at the cold bathroom floor, pressing a knife to your wrist.

Nothing could repair the damage you felt, how hurt you felt.

You finally tried to stand up to him, but you knew you could never win. He'd made sure of it.

He'd made sure to kill any confidence left in you, so you'll shut up and do what he says.

He was annoyed with how things were going. But he had to deal with it.

He had to make sure that you'll understand that he is in the charge and not you.

It was great time to educate you since you had no missions at the moment.

So he did everything he could, from yelling at you to speaking to you like you were a child.

He knew when he had to burst into anger so it will take you by surprise.

He knew how dumb, small and pathetic you felt when he treated you like an idiot.

And you didn't know what to expect anymore, the confusion was killing you.

You didn't know what is going on so you had no control over it. Fearing what he could do to you, you stayed.

And you knew you couldn't run. But you could leave in different way.

The flashbacks of all of it hit you like a brick, you were absolutely numb and out of your mind

You pressed the knife harder and drag it across your skin, you jumped when you heard Vladimir slam the door of the house.

The fear started to run all over you as you started to swing a knife at your wrist harder like you were trying to run away.

You moaned loudly at the pain, starting to black out at the sight of blood, you didn't even realise when Makarov was kneeling next to you, holding your arms and shaking you awake while yelling curses in russian.

Your ears were ringing and you closed your eyes, hoping to never open them again.

That was like, the first time he saw you as a person and not object, as someone who could die and not break like a toy.

And he was genuinely worried for you.

You woke up in the dark, it was night. Your eyes started to get used to dark and you saw the ceiling of your shared bedroom. You felt harsh material on your wrist, after rubbing it sleepily you knew it was a bandage.

You still felt lightheaded from the blood loss, feeling like you couldn't move.

You looked to the side of your bed, Makarov was sleeping next to you, holding your hand.

You know how it feels when someone who doesn't give a damn about you does something nice?

None of the bad things mattered now. For a second you could feel like you forgot all the things he did to you.

He held your hand, he didn't left you to die. (Bare minimun huh ☠️)

The sight of it warmed your heart, he did love you after all. And you did love him too.

You gently moved your fingers, interwining them with his.

He felt it, flinching in his sleep as you moved closer to him.

Half-consciously, he threw his other arm around your back, and you relaxed into his touch.

The next day he didn't yell, didn't hit you, didn't treat you like a piece of shit for once. He didn't even mention your suicide attempt.

He was so caring for you like he never did.

Asking how do you feel, touching you softly and rubbing the bruised on your skin he left himself.

Until you recovered, he treated you like you were made out of glass.

It obviously changed when you were healthy again.

You never pulled that shit again.

He was cold, like the old Makarov and you missed how he treated you but you didn't forget.

And he was sure you didn't.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #cod mw #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov #makarov x reader #makarov #makarov cod #cod makarov #makarov mw2

150 notes · View notes

st-eve-barnes · 8 months

Text

You know that I'm no good (chapter 8)

(Modern Aegon x fem Reader, Modern Sihtric x fem Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: You spend the night in Aegon's bed, finally giving into your true feelings for him. But what then?

Finally smutty times! And ANGST. And...I am so sorry about the ending...you guys didn't think we were there yet, didn't you?😈

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +4600

Masterlist

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aegon’s driver was as professional as they come, he was overly polite, opened the doors for you and accompanied you to the elevator that lead up to Aegon’s penthouse.

Because of course Aegon would have the best, most expensive apartment in the entire building, you shouldn’t ’t have expected anything less.

You were nervous when you entered his place, it was dark in the loft as you made your way through the enormous kitchen.

On the way over there Aegon had texted you that the door was open and he’d be waiting for you in his bedroom.

Part of you was convinced you were still actually in your own apartment, in your own bed, sound asleep and having this amazing dream that involved Aegon inviting you into his bed.

It was all just too good to be true.

But it was real.

Light was peaking out from under the door of his room. You knocked softly before opening it.

Aegon’s bedroom was as spacious as the rest of the place, king sized bed with dark sheets, cozy lights and a big tv on the wall opposite the bed. He had never looked smaller to you sitting up against the headboard on his side of the huge bed, shirtless, his hair messy and curly and his sleepy sad eyes locking on yours.

He looked like a dream. You didn’t want to speak or move, afraid you would shatter the whole thing and wake up alone again.

“Hey,” he whispered and his lips curled up into a smile watching your short pink pajamas,”You really came like that, huh?”

“You said not to change so…your driver gave me some weird looks though,” you joked, making Aegon laugh but then his gaze was serious again.

He lifted up the blankets to make room for you,”Get in here.”

You took off your shoes and climbed into the bed next to him, propping up the pillow behind your back as you got comfortable, not wanting to get too close to him before knowing his intentions.

Did he just want company? Or comfort? Did he just want to fuck or did he want more?

Or was it none of the above.

Aegon turned on the tv and searched for Stranger Things. Then, without speaking a word, he started up the first episode.

It confused the shit out of you.

You didn’t know how to deal with this quiet version of him, it was the first time you actually had no idea what to say to him. The air in the room felt too heavy and even though Aegon was sitting right next to you it felt like he was a million miles away.

Did he regret his decision to invite you over already? Was that it? Did you read too much into his words?

You got to about fifteen minutes into the first episode when you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

Aegon turned to look at you,”Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you haven’t interrupted the show once, which is highly unlike you, and you’re really unusually fucking quiet.”

Aegon smiled at your directness but once again his smile faded too quickly and never reached his eyes.

“Aegon, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,’ he sighed, a little annoyed.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” you pressed.

“Because,” he started but then bit his lip and sighed deeply, his hand running across his face,”God, fuck, I’m sorry…I’m so bad at this.

“If you want me to go you can just say…”

“No, please!” he interrupted you and his hand reached for yours, gripping it tight,”Please.”

Your gaze met his and your heart sank seeing the struggle in his beautiful, pleading eyes.

“Please don’t go,” he repeated, softer.

You nodded and squeezed his hand,”I won’t, I promise.”

He sighed in relief and you moved a little closer to him in the bed,”Why did you invite me over, Aegs?”

“I think you know,” his voice was soft but his gaze even softer, erasing any thoughts you may have had of leaving from your mind.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” you insisted.

You were suddenly very aware of the grip his hand had on yours, clinging to you and very slowly pulling you closer to him. His gaze was no longer soft, his pupils growing darker and blown with lust.

“What do you want?” you breathed.

He licked his lips before he whispered,”I want to pull you into my lap and kiss you. Is that alright?”

You swallowed hard, unable to form any coherent thoughts or words. All you managed was a small nod and it was all Aegon needed to proceed.

He pulled you to him and then gently cupped your face with one hand before leaning in and kissing you, slow and tentative and so soft it was giving you goosebumps all over. Your hands moved to his bare chest and he whimpered at the first contact.

“Sorry,” you giggled into the kiss,”My hands are cold.”

You wanted to pull them back but Aegon was quick to grab them and place them back on his chest,”Your hands are perfect.”

He kissed you again, slow and unhurried, taking his time to taste you and enjoying the way your breathing picked up and the way your hands moved all over his chest and stomach. Then he pulled you into his lap, legs on either side of him and this time you both whimpered when his cock brushed up against your center. Even through the layers of clothing you could feel how hard he was.

Aegon was kissing you as if he’d been waiting years to do so, as if this was the first kiss, which in a way it was.

There was no audience this time, nobody to put on a show for, it was just you and him, the both of you melting into each other from every angle. He moaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips and then he leaned back to look at you, his gaze both hungry and somehow nervous for your reaction.”Do you want me?” he breathed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead against his,”Yes, Aegon.”

His entire face lit up at your confirmation.

You moved your lips to kiss his neck and Aegon’s eyes rolled back into his head, blissful little whimpers escaping his lips as he rocked back against you, letting you feel how desperate he was for you. Your hands moved over his stomach to push at the hem of his boxers, desperate to get them off but Aegon stopped you.

“Shhh, not yet, sweetheart,” he shushed you and then patiently kissed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone until you were a whimpering mess in his lap.

“Please,” you moaned quietly,”I need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he reassured you,” but first…”

His hand moved down your stomach to untie your shorts while he moved his mouth up to your ear,”First I’m going to put my hand underneath those adorable pink shorts you’re wearing and finger you until you cum all over my hand. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, Aegs,” you breathed.

“Is that a yes?” he teased with a smirk.

“Yes,” you begged,”Please, yes.”

Your plea was enough to urge him to speed things up and he pushed you off of his lap to lay you down on his bed.

His lips latched onto your neck again while his hand caressed your stomach and pushed up your top, his hand moving underneath to cup your tits, paying equal attention to both of them. His thumb grazed over your nipples before taking one of them into his mouth, his tongue lapping at those sensitive spots and as if that wasn’t driving you crazy already he also moaned into it.

Your panties were soaked and he hadn’t even touched you there, you weren’t even sure if you would be able to handle it if he did. You were already clenching around nothing, so desperate to feel him inside of you. His cock, his fingers, anything, you didn’t care, you just needed to feel him.

“Aegon, please, baby,” you begged, taking his hand in yours and guiding him down between your legs.

He smirked at your impatience and pulled down the hem of your shorts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers slipped into your underwear,”It’s okay, lay back and let me take care of you.”

He continued kissing your neck while his fingers ghosted over your clit, barely touching you but enough to feel how soaked you were.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he teased,”Oh, sweetheart, I’ve been a bad boyfriend, huh? Not giving you what you needed so desperately.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

Aegon showed mercy on you, finally circling your clit and putting pressure right where you needed it. You couldn’t hold back your moans and your hips started bucking up into his hand.

“You’re so needy, I fucking love it,” he purred,”Look at you grinding against my hand, my sweet dirty girl.”

His voice was adding flames to your fire, making you burn up for him a little more with every word he whispered into your ear.

The way he held eye contact through it all was driving you insane. Like he couldn’t bear to look away from you even for a second, taking in your reactions to every single one of his touches, eagerly learning what you liked the most and repeating that over and over until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally he slid a finger inside your dripping heat, making you press your nails into his shoulder. You covered your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure but Aegon was quick to slap your hand away.

“I wanna hear you,” he whispered,”Wanna hear how good I make you feel, moan for me, sweetheart.”

He added a second finger, fucking you with them at a slow, unhurried pace while his thumb found your clit again.

You moaned shamelessly, grinding against him, feeling that heat coil in your belly as your orgasm started to build.

Aegon watched you closely, speeding up his movements but slowing down when you got too close, keeping you right on that edge until he could see tears spilling from your eyes.

“That’s it, baby” he then moaned into your ear,”You can let go now, cum for me, sweetheart, soak my fingers, please, come on…”

He kissed you again then, slow and deep while he fucked you with his fingers, making sure to keep circling your clit as well. It was enough to push you over the edge.

You came with Aegon’s name on your lips, your entire body convulsing under his touch, bliss filling your every nerve unlike anything you had ever felt. You never wanted this to end.

Aegon slowly kissed you through your orgasm, letting you come down from your high but also keeping his fingers inside of you until every last wave of it had passed through you.

He smiled softly, eventually pulling back.”Was that alright?” he asked quietly but with a little hint of mischief in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Fuck yes, that was alright,” you giggled,”That was...holy shit.”

His smile grew wider, proud, and he kissed you again, deeper this time and when he moved against you, you could feel his cock resting against your inner thigh. Hard and leaking and so ready for you.

Your hand moved to push his boxers down, your impatience taking over again and this time he didn’t stop you but instead helped you take them off and then started tugging at your shorts to do the same. Your panties quickly followed, ending up in the pile next to his bed.

His one hand moved down your inner thigh, spreading you open for him while he pressed his forehead against yours, holding eye contact while his cock nudged at your entrance.”You want this, right?” he breathed, struggling to hold himself back but needing that last bit of consent from you,”I need you to say it, sweetheart, please.”

You just nodded and let your hand brush his cheek.”I want you, Aegon,” you confirmed,”I want you.”

You were both breathing hard, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close to you as he slowly pushed himself in, inch by inch. He stretched you to the fullest before slowly pulling out and driving back in again.

Your mind was no longer able to form words, all that filled your senses was him. And you realized there was no going back from this moment, the way he held you and looked at you as if you were the best thing to ever happen to him while he filled you up so perfectly. You had never felt so close to anyone in your entire life and it was making you emotional.

And Aegon noticed, even now. He halted his movements to grab your hand and hold it up against his chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby? What is it? Am I hurting you?”

“No, you’re not hurting me,” you reassured him,”Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s…you’re perfect.”

The soft, loving look in his eyes put a smile on your face.

“You’re so perfect, Aegon,” you repeated in a whisper and he leaned in to kiss you softly. You reciprocated hungrily and then he was fucking you again, more urgent than before.

His pace was slow but when you rocked back against him he started going faster, giving you what you both craved. It didn’t take long for you to lose yourself in him again, and Aegon was right with you this time. His breathing erratic and his moans growing louder as his thrusts became less and less controlled.

“I’m close,” he whimpered,”Fuck, I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too,” you breathed, encouraging him to keep going so he did. His fingers connecting with your clit again, giving you that last little push to topple over the edge with him.

“Fuck,” Aegon was breathing heavily, sweat on his forehead, his cheeks flushed red as he tried to hold back and give you what you needed first,”Shit, I need to…”

“Come inside me,” you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You sure?” he checked, biting hard on his lip as his thrusts grew harder and less controlled.

“Yes, I’m on the pill,” you reassured him,”Please, I want to feel you…come inside me, Aegs.”

You had barely finished your words when he did just that, his hot seed filling you up as he buried his face into the crook of your neck with a loud grunt. You followed quickly, moaning his name as your own orgasm rippled through you.

Aegon didn’t move for the longest time after that, just holding onto you as you both tried to come down from it. You hugged him close, neither of you feeling the need to speak for a while. You could have laid here for the rest of your life and be happy.

When Aegon finally looked up he noticed the tears in your eyes.

He gently cupped your cheek and brushed them away, his soft eyes meeting yours,“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he checked.

“Yeah,” you smiled through your tears.

“Good tears?” he asked with a hopeful smile.

“Good I-just-had-the-most-satisfying-orgasm-in-my-entire-life tears,” you teased and Aegon’s laughter filled the room, making your heart feel full.

He pulled you next to him in the bed, keeping his arms around you to keep you close to him.

“Was that…okay?” he then asked, insecurity clouding his voice.

You nodded and leaned closer, resting your forehead against his.”Yeah,” you whispered.

His sweet smile warmed your heart and when he placed a soft lingering kiss on your lips you knew your heart belonged to him from now on. It was both the best and the worst feeling in the world.

“Stay,” he then whispered softly,”Please stay with me, my sweet girl.”

”I'm not going anywhere, Aegs,” you kissed him back and pulled him into your arms.

****

You texted Sihtric the next morning to cancel your platonic lunch date, followed by a bunch of apologies but he took it like a true gentleman and told you to text him whenever you felt ready and if that didn’t happen that he would understand.

You had been right about him from the start, he was a truly good man.

But there was only one man on your mind since last night.

Waking up next to Aegon still felt like a dream and instead of kicking you out of his bed he had pushed you down into the mattress and fucked you again before breakfast. He even offered for his driver to take you home, which you gladly accepted.

You had spent that entire Sunday living in a haze and went to bed happier than you had in a really long time that night.

But then the work week started and you got back into the routine. And you didn’t hear from Aegon during those first days, and then Thursday came along and he still hadn’t texted you.

That’s when the doubt started to set in. What if it had just been a casual fuck for him? What if he didn’t feel even an ounce of what you felt for him? What if he regretted it and now anything you two may have had was ruined before it even got a chance to start?

It was Friday and you had settled on the couch, your phone on your lap and a bottle of wine by your side. Normally under these circumstances you wouldn’t hesitate to call Helaena and pour your heart out to her, but that was obviously not an option right now.

You jumped when there was a sudden loud knock on your door. You didn’t want to hope, you knew it would only hurt all the more if it wasn’t him but you were quick to rise to your feet and open the door anyway, relief flooding your veins upon seeing Aegon on your doorstep. His hair was messy but his smile was bright.

“Hi,” he spoke softly while shamelessly staring at you.

“Hi stranger,” you teased,”Your phone not working?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed,”I should have…texted, or something.”

“Yeah, you should have,” you replied, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Can I come in? Please?”

You nodded and moved to let him step inside your apartment.

“There’s a film screening by the water tonight,” he then started,”We could go if you want.”

He moved into your living room and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t even touch you.

Was that all he wanted? To take you out in public and play the fake couple again? Were you still right there after everything that happened?

No, it couldn’t be true, your heart could not take this.

“I guess we could,” you tried not to sound as devastated as you felt,”If that’s what you want.”

You stopped to look at him and when your eyes met his he let out a deep sigh.

“No, it’s…that’s not what I want at all,” he confessed,”I don’t care about a stupid movie.”

“What do you want then?” you asked, feeling nervous about his answer but needing him to be honest with you anyway.

“You,” he sighed,”I just want you, Y/N.”

Every doubt and fear fell away when his hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you up against his chest, his lips meeting yours in a soft, deep kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in between kisses,”I should have…called you…I was an idiot…I haven’t…stopped thinking about you…all week. Can you please…forgive me, sweetheart?”

You cupped his face with two hands and kissed him back, unable to stop from smiling.”I forgive you. But don't do that again.”

Aegon didn’t stop kissing you as he pushed you towards the couch, pulling you down onto it with him, making you both giggle. But then he grabbed your neck and looked into your eyes, his gaze suddenly serious and darker.

“Can I fuck you again?” he whispered heavily,”Please?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes closing with a soft moan as he started kissing your neck while his hands cupped your breasts through your shirt,”God yes, you can fuck me whenever you want, Aegs.”

It was fast and frantic, clothes were pulled off and discarded, there was no time or no need for foreplay. The both of you starved for each other and when Aegon finally shoved his achingly hard cock inside of you everything was right with the world again. You clung to his shoulders as he fucked you mercilessly on your green couch, bringing you both to a fast and intense climax.

The second time was different, slower, on your bed, with him kissing every inch of skin on your body before he even dared to touch your cunt. When his tongue finally devoured your clit it felt like you ascended to another world and when he fucked you afterwards, lazy and slow and with his eyes on yours the entire time, you cried again.

He kissed away all your tears patiently before making you weep again as he drove you to another mind blowing orgasm. He came with his teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and your name leaving his lips in the most delicious whimper.

****

The weeks that followed felt like a beautiful, romantic and very much not suitable for work dream. You spent your days at work or hanging out with Helaena and you spent your nights in Aegon’s bed, or on your couch, his kitchen table, the balcony of his penthouse, the back of his car, the elevator in your building, …

It didn’t matter what place you were in Aegon needed to have his hands and his mouth on you every night, and preferably in the morning as well. He grew addicted to you fast and you were no less addicted to him.

You felt happy, for the first time in a really long time. Aegon was sweet, always in a good mood and incredibly affectionate.

He was everything previous boyfriends hadn’t been.

He’d hold you until you fell asleep in his arms, cuddle up to you in the kitchen while you were cooking, he’d listen to you when you rambled on about customers at work, he’d even bring you breakfast in bed and pick you up after work. He made you laugh every day and every day was better now because of him.

The sex was infinitely better than anything you’d ever had before. Aegon would always make sure you were taken care of first, he wouldn’t even think about his own climax before he’d made you cum first. He also loved to go down on you, usually while you watched Stranger things. He’d eat you out as if he’d been starved for days, making it impossible for you to focus on the plot of the show, which you stopped caring about several episodes ago, you now just put on the show as an excuse to let Aegon have his way with you.

He was the perfect boyfriend in every way, except that he wasn’t your boyfriend.

You never put a name on what you two had and you never talked about your feelings. You didn’t want to push your luck and lose what you had with him. Things were perfect, why force them to change?

It was a slow day at work that Friday when the door opened and Aegon walked in, the store was empty except for the both of you and you could see that eager, mischievous grin on his face as he stepped up to the counter.

“Good afternoon, miss,” he grinned.

“Hi,” you smiled, leaning across the counter to get closer to him.

Aegon followed your lead.“You alone?”

“Well, there’s one customer in here, it’s this weird but kinda handsome blond guy who comes in every few days,” you teased him,”He never buys anything, doesn’t even look at the books, he just comes in to flirt with me.”

“Hmm, does he now?” Aegon leaned on his elbow, letting his eyes meet yours,”Does he make you uncomfortable? Should I go kick his ass?”

Your lips curled up into a smile,”No. I was just wondering…why he drops by so often.”

Aegon’s hand reached across the counter until he managed to grab your arm and pull you closer.”Maybe he just misses you,” he then whispered.

“Is that so?” you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up and Aegon softly pressed his forehead against yours.

“Can you take a break?” he then asked,”Hang up a sign and close the shop for ten minutes.”

“The whole ten minutes, oh my god Aegon Targaryen, you must be every girl’s ultimate sexual fantasy,” you teased and laughed and he hit you on the arm.

But then his eyes locked with yours again, his gaze suddenly intense,“I’m your ultimate sexual fantasy and don’t you fucking deny it.”

You bit your lip shyly and smiled,”I wasn’t going to.”

He grabbed your chin with his thumb, forcing you to look deep into his eyes, nothing but hunger staring back at you,“Close the shop.”

You sighed,“I don’t know, what if my boss happens to drop by?”

Aegon leaned in even closer, just enough so he could nuzzle your cheek, his breath hot on your skin. “Come here,” he whispered and he softly kissed the sensitive spot right below your ear, making you shiver.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered,”Been thinking about your pussy all day.”

He smiled when he noticed your breathing picking up and he started kissing and licking your neck, making you breathe even harder.

“Aegs,” you moaned quietly, fingers digging into his arm,”What do you want?”

“I wanna taste you,” he breathed in between kissing your neck and jaw,”Right here…wanna push you up against one of those book shelves…tear those jeans and panties off of you…kiss your thighs….suck on your clit until she’s all sensitive and throbbing for me…then…I’m gonna fuck you slowly with my tongue, get you all nice and wet and then…”

“Jesus fuck, alright, I’ll close the shop!”

Aegon smirked and licked his lips while you rushed to lock the door and hang up the Closed sign. Before he could say another word you pulled him with you towards the back of the store.

It turned out ten minutes was more than long enough for Aegon to make you cum twice, once with his head nestled between your thighs and the second time with his cock buried deep inside of you, thrusting so hard the entire bookshelf was shaking.

You held onto him so tight afterwards, fingers deep into the skin of his back as you buried your face against his neck.

“God, I’ve missed that,” he whispered in between kissing your shoulder,”I’ve missed you, so fucking much.”

“Missed you too,” you breathed.

Everything was so perfect, if you had known how quickly it would all fall to pieces afterwards you never would have said a damn thing.

You hadn’t meant to say it, you just got caught up in the moment and the way he was looking at you with those soft, loving eyes of his.

“I love you so much,” you breathed against his lips and Aegon froze.

He recovered quickly, trying to shut you up with more kisses and you reassured him that it was okay, that he didn’t need to say it back to you and that it was just a heat of the moment thing and not a big deal.

But it was a big deal, it seemed like a huge fucking deal to Aegon.

It was the beginning of the end.

#aegon x reader #aegon x you #sihtric x reader #aegon smut #sihtric smut #hotd fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #tom glynn carney fanfic #arnas fedaravicius fanfic

152 notes · View notes

renewoos · 1 year

Text

Sweetly Devoted (jjk)

➸ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x gn!reader

➸ Genres: angst & tooth-rotting fluff

➸ Themes: love at first sight, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, slight meet cute, comfort

➸ WC: 11k+

➸ Warnings: descriptive mentions of health illnesses (mental & physical), anxiety, depression, detox & withdrawal, very brief mention of self-harm, family neglect

➸ Summary: All you wanted was to get healthier. You were so tired of these brutal health battles and constant doctor visits. You’ve been sick for a while not getting well enough help. Don’t worry, your guardian angel is about to send an angel in human-form straight to your life called Jeon Jungkook.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

This was the seventh doctor you had been to and each visit only led to more tears in the end. To say it was frustrating wouldn’t be enough. Tormenting, torturing; perhaps those were the words to closely describe the experiences. An autoimmune disease wasn’t just something you could wave off, especially when you had multiple other health problems. Suffering and feeling the world turn gray suddenly as the life in you started to fade away. You felt like you were losing yourself as each year passed. Depression was rising as high as a tsunami wave.

Four years is how long you’ve been sick and it’s been a ride bumpier than hitting all the potholes while driving. How you became ill? It wasn’t clear at all. You had just woken up one night, drenched in sweat from fear. A night terror was what they called it. The problem was, those night terrors came every single night since the first one until you stopped sleeping for two months. Getting only one to three hours of sleep until finally no sleep at all for the last two weeks. Due to the lack of sleep, your anxiety went off the charts. Shaking and trembling at the slightest of sounds, you stopped eating too. You were scared to death and of what? Not even you knew. You had fainted eventually and had woken up in a hospital room, almost dying of starvation and sleep deprivation but saved with an ambulance call from someone who found you.

The hospital doctor gave you a pill, not bothering to examine you properly. The trust you put in him was huge. You figured maybe you just lost your mind. It’s just anxiety and depression but oh, how wrong you’d be. You recovered for a moment, only to suddenly fall again. Your health had been a bumpy ride and the night terrors (which thankfully did end from the new pill you started) but since then on you were never the same again. The things you once loved, you didn’t anymore. Depression was to blame for that one. You lost bits and pieces of yourself. The bits and pieces scattered around, turning into blank pages and crumbling away. Who were you now? Certainly not that once bright being who could take on the world better. The person who had dreams higher than the clouds above.

Six doctors in a row deemed you crazy, god, how much did those words hurt you. Nobody wants to be called crazy especially not from medical professionals. You thought you’d get used to the word after so many times but you just couldn’t. You didn’t have that strength anymore. The sad part is, the medical professionals didn’t properly look at you. Something was wrong. Thanks to your seventh doctor, who caught it and is trying to pinpoint it now. She believes there is so much more to you. ‘It’s not all in your head. Those doctors are wrong, I will prove it.’ Hopeful for the first time but of course, you also didn’t wanna jinx it. For some reason, every time you mentioned something; it would turn out bad. As if a darkness cloud just followed you overhead constantly. After all, it took years to find someone who believed you and she won’t be the only one.

You did believe you were crazy as things just did not make sense overall, especially before this doctor came along. As time passed, you weren’t just mentally ill with anxiety and depression. You were physically sick and every vein in your body was burning from it. You felt horrid pains in your body, physically too. Your poor body is suffering and you don’t know how to help it. That’s when suddenly, the thought of ‘being crazy couldn’t be right’ hit you. Mustering up the small piece of strength you had to go on, you pushed for doctors until you found her.

The discovery of an autoimmune disease was found except for your case, it was special. ‘Of course it’s special,’ you once scoffed. ‘Nothing for me can be a simple answer.’ Doctors found you a mystery and experimented on you. In the last two years, you had gone through several medical tests. Every two weeks, for months you got to feel needles poking you. Constant checking and testing that drained you. The doctors still deeming you crazy just because the tests they ran didn’t make sense to them. You stood up and walked however, despite the difficult road ahead. You keep on going even if some days, you grab that razor blade and say it’s totally over. Something small in you, is not letting it be over. Something that makes you heal your self inflicted wounds and try to care for yourself. It was a fucked up cycle and you knew that.

The autoimmune disease you had was special because it kept changing from one version to another. The problem is, that’s completely contradicting. One version of the disease kills your energy, makes you ache. You become very sluggish to the point where even taking a shower is hard. Heart rate slows and your face gets puffy. The other version; you are restless, jumpy and anxious. The anxiety jumps and your heart is racing. Yet here you were, switching between the two versions of the disease every few weeks. No wonder you were a mess. In the end, it was decided that a virus was messing you up and from it, you got the lovely gift of a physical nodule in your throat.

Luckily that nodule hasn’t turned into cancer yet and you pray that it never does. Only bothers your throat from time to time and makes swallowing difficult a bit. Nobody wants to go through cancer and your heart has always gone out to people who do have it. You always thought that if it came to that, you wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the news. You figured, you’d completely break and give up.

You had a beloved guardian angel, your therapy dog who has passed away before you found out you were sick. You wore a golden locket around your neck daily in memory of her. An urn necklace with an angel wing attached to it. You believe she is protecting you somehow. Your guardian angel is the only thing you had to hang onto.

Recovering only to relapse again and again; spinning around like a tornado. New symptoms came that made things so difficult again. So here you were, with the seventh doctor. The only woman who believes something is still wrong. Your autoimmune disease was able to calm down, not being too harsh on you and not going through crazy spikes. However, your blood-tests had shown multiple other issues arrive yet again. The tears you held in so strongly burst the minute you got home. Stress levels were ascending up and you just locked yourself alone. Hating to cry in front of others so you just kept to yourself and let it out, in the comfort of your private bedroom.

A second autoimmune disease now found present in your gut this time. The first one being in your throat, a gland whose hormones can affect every organ. The doctor had a plan to detox your body as you found out you also had multiple food allergies causing leaky gut syndrome as well as developing anemia. All were contributing to making you ill. On top of it, the pill that you depended on for the night terrors and insomnia, causes the first autoimmune disease in your throat to worsen. The fear of letting go of the medical drug you depended on for these four years hurt you. How could doctors not tell you that the pill wasn’t supposed to be for years? That it could physically cause a damage. Nobody warned you. You weren’t sure if you could do all this anymore. You would need to start six supplements and you would have to tamper off your current medication by lowering the dosages every two weeks. The pill that saved you years ago in the hospital from night terrors now can be causing more illnesses. Bitterness against doctors is all you felt. Not for this seventh one but still after everything, it would be hard to trust her fully; even if she is different so far.

It was an overload of information and a month to do so much work. You just wondered why and how were you getting so ill. It couldn’t just be that pill. Would it ever end? You felt no comfort because almost everyone around you seemed to be tired of hearing you sick. Your home life wasn’t exactly the best. A father should protect not harm but that’s the life you got. Watching you struggle to move some days from pure exhaustion that the illnesses were causing yet nobody in your family seemed to really give a shit.

Nobody in general.

Except for one person; who didn’t consider you ‘too much’ and definitely cared.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

One day, you met him. Before your seventh doctor had discovered another autoimmune disease and advised you on a strict diet and detox, you made a friend. Jeon Jungkook was his name and you never thought someone like this could exist in the world. To say he is kind is an understatement. Jungkook’s affection went high and far, regardless of how close you were to him. Overall, he was a guy who everyone adored. Sometimes his friends would get annoyed at how close he can get with a stranger. Barely knowing someone and giving them a shoulder to cry on instantly. In your life, you had bullies and abusers mostly. Kindness from humans was slightly strange to you. The only kindness you ever felt purely was those from beloved pets. Being a big animal lover, their comfort and playfulness made you lit up; especially when it came to dogs. The memory of your first and last one always replaying in your mind. She was there for you since you were eleven years old and now you were twenty-seven, losing her at the age of twenty-five. Somehow when you looked at Jungkook, he reminded you of a cute puppy. It made you actually chuckle. You wondered if maybe your guardian angel sent Jeon Jungkook your way, to show you that there are good people in the world still.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Days before; how you and Jungkook met.

You were out running around for errands; the usual grocery shopping and paying bills. Just these tasks were enough to make you lose your energy of course. Being ill and doing what most people called ‘simple tasks,’ wasn’t so simple for you and others alike. Once you had finished paying the bills and buying the groceries, you walked out of the store feeling somewhat weak. As you were taking a long walk in the parking lot with your cart full of bags, the beaming sunlight did not help that weak and tired feeling.

“Why did I have to park so far…” Mumbling at yourself since you chose to park quite the distance due to the recent minor attacks on your car. You felt paranoid parking close as you would always find new scratches on it.

You were half way there until you managed to trip, which embarrassed you but the tired feeling came over making you sigh out and not care if anyone saw anymore. You knew they would ignore you.

However, you would be proven wrong as you noticed the sun wasn’t shining it’s beam directly on you anymore while you were still on the ground. Luckily the cart had not drifted away much and stayed in place since you didn’t shove it. You looked up, taking your eyes off the ground and were met with a man. A devastatingly, beautiful and handsome one at that. Nerves in your stomach formed a bit.

“Are you okay?!” He asked with a worried look as he knelt down to examine you.

Feeling your cheeks grow pink since you weren’t used to this kind of attention, especially not from a handsome guy. He looked to be around your age, maybe slightly older? Though looks could be decieving since you looked younger than your age. At least that’s what others have told you. The words wouldn’t come out of your mouth however only worrying him more.

He brought the back of his hand gently to your forehead, making you freeze. “Woah! You feel really hot!”

You mentally cursed yourself. ‘Damn it. Of course, one of my fevers had to happen now.’

Since the guy was so close and you still hadn’t uttered a word out loud, you took a look into his eyes and suddenly he ripped his hand off you. ‘Is he… flustered?’ You thought this because he suddenly looked very shy himself. It was cute.

“I’m sorry, I must have scared you...” He said, with a voice sounding so sweet. You could listen to it for hours.

“No, sorry. I’m just… out of it...” You finally spoke, making him pause for a moment. A look you couldn’t figure out was on his face as he heard you speak. He then nodded, “should I take you to a nearby immediate care?”

A man you didn’t even know was offering to take you to doctors and it all felt like a strange dream as you couldn’t believe what was happening. Nobody was this kind to you before. Suddenly a car blared it’s horns loudly and didn’t look like it was going to stop. Which is typically the type of stuff you expect in life.

“Oh shit!” The handsome man had cursed, pushing your cart further to the side and grabbing a firm but yet somehow soft hold of your wrist to pull you up. You were extremely light so he was able to do it with ease but also he was completely ripped. This man definitely works out so you were sure he could lift anyone up. You ended up with your head buried into his chest, ‘he smells really nice.’ His hand was still around your wrist. The car speeding past you both.

“What the hell is their problem?!” The man lightly yelled towards the speeding car, obviously appalled by it.

Touch-starved probably described you well as you felt like burning even more from just having your face in his chest. Fevers and charmingly sweet guys were a deadly combo. He was tall and you were a pretty short person. You fit well with him physically somehow, like a puzzle piece that was meant to be there. It felt totally snug and comforting. You quickly pulled away, stopping any more thoughts from surfacing. Your heart was already speeding up and you thought it had to be from never being close with someone like this, ever. There was no way you were actually feeling something for a stranger but was that really the truth? Time would tell.

Your eyes connected as he looked down at you when you pulled apart from him, his wrist leaving your hand. Deep down inside of you, you wish you didn’t just pull away so quickly.

His cheeks were starting to tint pink along with his ears. In this quick moment, you inspected him; dark long ish hair that had a part which complimented his face so well. He had a lot of ear piercings which you admired and even wore a gorgeous bracelet. You noticed he had a lip ring as well which only made him hotter. He had beautiful light cherry colored lips & these wonderful doe-like eyes you could feel yourself get lost in. His skin was incredibly flawless on top of it. He dressed very elegantly almost as if he was a pirate king or something. He had black leather pants on with a white, slightly see-through top and with that you noticed that there seemed to be tattoos on his arm. His hand was visible to show that he had tattoos on there as well. This man had to be extremely popular. He was the actual definition of a ‘Greek God’ to you. Humans never made you feel safe before but him? He definitely gave you a safe feeling to add to the list of pros. Something about his aura felt comforting. He might have looked badass but that face screamed sweet.

“I’m sorry, I keep being touchy-” he started, getting back that flustered look. You wondered how on earth he could be shy in this moment.

You had a very small smile creep on your face, “stop please.” He blinked, mouth slightly open. You were an adult and illnesses or not, you brought that confidence out and got serious. Little ounce of courage mustered up.

“You don’t have to keep saying sorry.” You said as he paid attention to you. “You just pretty much saved my life from that car.”

“It was no problem, anyone would have done the same.” Bashfully, his words came out. He had both confidence and shyness. He showed an out-going side but also got shy, completely fascinating you.

“Not really,” your small smile started looking like a sad one and that made his heart hurt a bit. He continued staring at you as you continued, “people aren’t usually nice to me and not only that, you offered to take me to immediate care. Thank you, really. I appreciate it more than I let on.”

He smiled at you, not wanting to pry about why you said ‘not really.’ He knew you must have had stories to tell, painful ones. “Well a nice and pretty person like you shouldn’t be hurting on the ground, with a fever at that.” That confidence and even perhaps flirty-ness it seems came out of him. The nerves in your tummy reappearing now and your heart picking up it’s pace. “Seriously, are you okay?” He asked.

For some reason, those words started to make you tear up a bit. You’re not the type to show people your tears but hearing someone sound so sincere and asking you that just hit like a ton of bricks.

The guy noticed and panicked, “oh no!” He got closer to you and lightly grabbed your hands to hold, “I’m sorry! Did I say something stupid?”

‘Oh man, how can he be this charming… and the cliche is so real. This only happens in movies and books, doesn’t it?’

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

That was only mere days ago and from that moment, he stayed with you. Doing his best to help you in what ever way he could and you found yourself spilling your whole life story to him. You never do this with people but somewhere in your gut, you just knew you could trust him. The words fell out of your mouth so easily that you even got mad at yourself for how open you became with him. He went above and beyond to show that you could trust him, just within these few days.Usually that’s extremely foolish but it felt like you two always knew each other. What you didn’t know at first was how much his heart ached hearing about your life, the abuse and now the suffering of illnesses. He didn’t want to show you his worry but he was so worried. Every night so far, he’d come home and tell his friends about you since he lived with them. He would pray that you wouldn’t get cancer ever and that with each doctor visit, something good would finally come out rather than bad news. Through his own body, he had no idea how terrible you could feel as he was healthy and so fit but he mentally felt parts of your pain.

It sounded beyond impossible and weird that two strangers could just become best friends basically in a matter of a few hours. It happened though, as bizarre as it might be. You learned his name, Jeon Jungkook. He was a little bit younger than you which shocked you due to him looking so manly and strong, but he was four years younger; being twenty-three. Jungkook was definitely playful and a bit teasing; he did it whenever he wanted to cheer you up but he also knew when to be serious. He knew when to pull back and listen to you carefully. When you had medical flare ups; although you would try to hide it from him, not wanting to bother him; he’d just insist on you letting him know. Showering you in affection and comfort was just what Jungkook did. That came in hugs and even cute pecks from his soft, plump lips on your forehead, hands, etc. You learned a lot about how he is and how kind he is to anyone. He would willingly lend a hand to anyone in need. So not only did he look amazing, his personality was one of a kind.

It did secretly make you a little bit jealous though you weren’t sure why. Jungkook is just as affectionate as a loyal puppy that won’t leave your side. His devotion was astounding. So friendly to everybody but a small pang of something not so great would wash over you. You felt stupid feeling at this slight jealousy because you knew the world needed more people like him.

What you also didn’t know was that Jungkook was extra sweet to you and only you, he just did a good job of hiding it. Sure, he could give his friends hugs, light pecks when they cry and even comfort a stranger with a small hug or hand holding but with you? He did it much more. Never having met his friends yet though, as you haven’t known each other long; so you didn’t know that little piece of information. He just knew he had an even more overwhelming urge to comfort you of all people. It wasn’t pity either.

One night you would play gently with your urn necklace, holding it tightly and thanked her. ‘I think, my little angel… that you brought us together. I think you guided him to me. He’s the best friend I never thought I could find, after you of course.’

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Present Day

Today was the day you found out more health news and shattered, closing yourself off. Locked up in your bedroom, crying your heart out. The good news is, if this doctor is correct, it should start putting you on the path of recovering. If she is wrong, it’ll hurt you more and you don’t think you could handle another blow. You thought you should be happy although a brutal and strict plan had to be followed but instead, you felt sadness that you had to go and develop another illness plus extra problems. It was exhausting.

Your phone was pinging madly and you knew, only one person could be spamming you right now. You knew Jungkook was waiting at home to hear back from you.

You stopped your crying to go grab your phone but a coughing fit had started. The coughing fits come and go, either from the nodule in your throat sometimes hurting or from the horrid acid reflux you got often; which started damaging your vocal chords just a bit. Your coughing fits could last anywhere between five minutes to forty minutes. Seemed like many minutes would be the one today. You groaned in between a cough.

Several minutes had passed and that’s when your phone started ringing. Obviously Jungkook now was worrying and trying to get a hold of you since you didn’t reply to his texts yet. You tried your best to stifle some coughs and answer the phone.

“H-hello,” you answered with a scratchy throat. A small cough escaping from your mouth. Jungkook on the other end, already frowning at the sound.

“(y/n), is it a coughing fit?” He asked, already knowing you so well within a few weeks and learning your uncontrollable habits.

“Yes…” you barely let out and kept trying to hold it in.

A sigh escaped Jungkook’s lips. His tone was gentle “don’t worry (y/n), don’t hold them in. Let them out. I’ll stay on the line and wait so you’re not alone.”

Your heart melted a bit at that but you still covered the phone as best as you physically could as you let out coughs. Jungkook hated hearing you suffer. He wouldn’t admit it but he was a sensitive person. He heard it muffled through the phone. He hated feeling like there was nothing he could do himself. If he had cures, the universe knows he would do anything to cure you himself. Even if he only knew you for a few weeks. Time meant nothing to him when he felt a connection to you from the moment he saw you. What that connection meant, he did not know although he was slightly sure but didn’t want to admit it. All he knew was that he had to befriend you somehow and be here for you afterwards. Of course, he also had to help you that day you met since he saw you collapse in a parking lot. No normal person can ignore that. Sincerely, he did want to befriend you. Not just because you were ill and needed someone, he really thought you were a special person in general especially when you first looked into his eyes and when you first spoke.

When the coughing fit was fully over, you were able to speak with him though your voice sounding raspy now because it always did after a fit. It would return to normal after an hour or so.

“Hey Jungkookie,” you said making him chuckle at bit.

“You okay, dear?” he was pacing around his bedroom as he spoke to you. His friends walking past his room to check in on him since he told them you would get medical news today. His friends knew he was scared of what that news would be. While you on the other end had to stop yourself from melting slightly when you heard the word ‘dear.’ It just sounded so nice coming from him.

“Why do you make me feel like the younger friend sometimes?” you replied, going to lay with your back on the bed. It was true. Jungkook had quite the mature aura during times like these.

“You’re mature and pretty wise but sometimes I just wanna be here for you. It’s okay to have moments of feeling younger. I’m here for you in the moments you feel weak, ok?” He read you well because that is exactly how you felt, weak and he knew you hated it but always assured you that it was okay. “I know I can be immature and perhaps a prankster even but…” he paused for a moment and you continued hanging onto his every word, “I am a man… I can be a strong one and you can lean on me when you need to…”

Both hearts skipped a beat at that. Jungkook started thinking if those were the right words and through the phone you could feel that shyness of his about to consume him so you spoke up quickly, “thank you… you’re the best.”

He was happy to hear that but still, the heat creeping up on his skin didn’t stop the blush from spreading across his face.

“About today Jungkook-” You started as you wanted to tell him what the news was.

“Wait!” He half yelled and you paused. “Can we meet up please? I wanna hear in person.” It felt like the right thing to him and although you didn’t want him knowing you were crying, you couldn’t say no to him at all.

“S-sure…” you stuttered while smacking your forehead with your free hand for stuttering.

“Great! Where do you wanna meet?” He had stopped pacing around his room, feeling grateful you two would meet up now. The happiness in his voice showing. You actually didn’t live far from one another, only fifteen minutes away.

“How about the park nearby? It usually doesn’t have many people around.” You said.

“Sounds good dear, I will see you there soon!” He replied and you said your ‘see ya soon hun’ and hung up.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Jungkook was already a few minutes early to the park; he picked an open spot so you could easily find him as you walked through the gates. This park was different from others, in that it was very quiet with few people around. Those few people coming here to mostly meditate since there were many beautiful ponds and gardens around.

You strolled in spotting Jungkook sitting on a bench in the middle. He was already facing you so once he saw you, he started running towards you. You did your best to dry your face before arriving but your eyes were red. You hoped he wouldn’t notice it, hiding behind your glasses somehow.

You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him rush towards you. Something finally cheering you up today. You started walking towards him since running was a bit difficult for you to do right now but he caught up to you quickly so you didn’t even have to walk much.

Instantly, he wrapped his arms around you for a tight but comforting hug. You should have expected it but still weren’t fully able to get used to it. You’re just pretty shocked at how adorable he is despite always seeing him be this way. Receiving affection from Jungkook was common but hard to wrap your head around after being a loner for so long. You would freeze up at first but slowly give in to that comforting and safe-like feeling, lightly hugging him back. When you started doing that (because the first few times you would just stand there), Jungkook always ended up getting that shy feeling. He loved when you would hug him back and show you’re comfortable with him. He would always joke and tell you, ‘oh c’mon, you can give me a stronger hug than that!’ or ‘afraid you’re gonna break me?’ Which flustered you but made you giggle.

Today he didn’t do that; you two just stayed hugging for a bit. Both secretly enjoying it without letting it on. When you both finally broke apart, he took a look at your face and frowned. You knew that he realized you were crying but you knew he also wouldn’t bring it up when you gave him a look that read, ‘don’t wanna talk about it yet…’ Since he would still have to mention it at some point because he wanted you to always know that he was here for you.

He took the cue and grabbed your hand, holding it while guiding you to an empty spot in the park; away from the people meditating. A more secluded area where trees could hide you both a bit. His hand was so warm while yours was so cold.

“Jungkook, don’t let my cold hands ruin your warmth.” You’d try to pull away but he wouldn’t let you. Not looking back at you as you walked a step behind him. He still led you before you reached the exact spot.

“Nonsense, I wanna warm you up. I got enough warmth for the both of us.” He would casually reply and this made your heart beat faster. You only hummed in reply.

It was safe to assume, you probably liked your new best friend a tiny bit more than you thought you should have. You were willing to keep that buried inside you though, hoping this feeling would go away in the future when time starts to pass. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had many people having some kind of a crush towards him. He just makes it way too easy to like him. You had no confidence of him ever having a crush on you back because you knew he was just a natural sweetheart. Plus you thought he was way out of your league.

You made it to the spot and he still didn’t let go of your hand. You both sat down under a pretty and small myrtle tree, blooming pink flowers. His face got serious as he looked at you, still holding your hand. You knew he wanted to know the news now. You took a deep breath, making sure tears won’t start sliding out.

“It’s not good,” you bluntly said and he started frowning a bit but waiting for you to go on. You reminded him a little bit of one of his friends, called Min Yoongi. His friend was blunt so he was okay with you not sugar-coating words. “She found another…” you felt a bit shaky but held strong and his grip on your hand tightened. “I have two autoimmune diseases now and this one harms the gut. But we all know most health comes from your gut and all my stomach issues make sense now.”

He was disappointed and it showed on his face, “why…” he stopped looking directly at your eyes and more towards the ground.

You didn’t know what he meant when he said ‘why.’ “Um-” you started but he cut you off.

“Why is this happening to you? Two autoimmune diseases…?” His voice sounded slightly irritated which you never heard that tone before. “I didn’t even know someone could have more than one… I… what the hell.” Jungkook wasn’t sure what to think anymore at all. All he wanted was for you to finally be happy and he knew, being healthy was your only wish in life. His hand never left yours.

“I hate seeing you suffer and struggle.” Continuing because now you were too shocked to stop his rant. “And I can’t do anything about it which pisses me off honestly,” he didn’t hold back being blunt either and his voice almost cracked.

You decided to step in, “Jungkookie… there is some good news too. I’ll get to it.” It was true because your doctor gave you an extremely difficult set of tasks to focus on but if she was on the right path, it could help you and possibly finally put you in recovery. Nothing good comes easy after all. Trust issues arose in you but you decided to fight that for the sake of cheering up Jungkook.

His eyes looked so sad but he stopped to take a look at your eyes and listen clearly. Hope building up a little bit in him now. “Yeah?”

You nodded, “I’ve been sort of poisoning my body it seems.” At this, his eyebrows furrowed and he started getting a worried look so you quickly went on.

“I’m allergic to a huge list of things… that I didn’t know and kept on eating for god knows how long now. They are healthy foods since I already had a slight strict diet but all contain something I am allergic to. So it’s harming me especially because she said I had something called leaky gut.” You explained and he had no words. He just nodded as a cue for you to continue because you realized he probably doesn’t know what leaky gut is and you don’t really understand much of it either but a small gist.

“So leaky gut… basically we have this wall like a brick wall at our gut. Blocking anything from entering your b-bloodstrea…” you felt shaky and Jungkook took notice. You mentally hated yourself so much from constantly being scared of this stuff. He brought the back of your hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on it. You felt butterflies but thanks to this, tears didn’t spill out of you. Instead you got slightly embarrassed. Jungkook wasn’t sure of how else to comfort you so this came naturally to him.

“You don’t have to go on if you can’t, (y/n).” His words were soft and you felt his breath against your hand that he still held close to his lips. You squeezed his hand in response, “n-no, I can finish. Thank you…” you mumbled and his heart fluttered at seeing you blush a bit.

“Okay (y/n), I’m here. Say whatever you can, don’t force it out if it gets too hard.” He shyly said and you gave him a smile. He felt his cheeks get warm so he cleared his throat and looked away for a moment, making you confused.

“Jung-” You started but he replied, “I’m good. Go on.” He put your hand down his to lap again as you sat closely and across each other. Still not letting it go. His eyes met yours again with confidence now.

“Okay…” you mentally toughened up to get back to your explanation, “so this wall protects stuff from entering your bloodstream and for me, my wall is broken. So foods or medications, anything I intake is entering my bloodstream. I also have a huge line of inflammation happening which is causing issues.” Jungkook now understood what was happening since he learned about your first autoimmune disease, he knew there was a similarity.

He spoke, “so things that shouldn’t go into your bloodstream have gone there which triggers your body’s defence.” You nodded and he continued, “To defend your body, it’s gonna go haywire attacking what’s ‘foreign’ which is the foods and stuff. It wants to protect you but it goes overboard and attacks you as well. Just like the autoimmune disease in your throat…” he felt sad now.

“Yes, you got it. She also explained it that way.” You said, “a virus attacked my throat gland and my body attacked the virus but also got confused and started attacking itself. Now my gut, is doing that. She believes another autoimmune disease is present since that’s what they do.”

He let out a sigh, “I am so sorry, (y/n).” You blinked in confusion.

“Why Jungkookie? It’s not your fault.” You took your hand out of his hold and patted his hair gently, “it’s okay.”

“How is it okay? The worst part that I realize now, unlike regular food… you’re putting ones you’re allergic to, into your body… that’s why you’ve been sick a lot and stuck in bathrooms. I get it now, the ‘poisoning’ you’re doing without you even knowing so it’s not your fault. None of this is ever your fault, it’s not the fault of the person who becomes ill. That sounds… scary though.” His emotions were starting to creep out, “and not any other single doctor tried to do something as simple as a food allergy test? How can they be this disappointing and stupid?!” He was a bit angry for sure and the fingers you used to run through his hair, took a hold at the back to bring his head into your chest. Your free one arm, holding the back of his shoulder as best as you can. Even if you tried holding tightly, your grips were always soft. He stopped feeling angry as he heard your heart beat. You never did a bold move yourself. He was shocked for a second but slowly leaned into you. You prayed your heart rate wouldn’t start increasing. His hands wrapped around your waist. “I’m sorry, you are feeling way worse than me… I’ll calm down.” You chuckled, “you are unbelievable Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook got worried hearing that from but you went on, “it’s okay. If it were you in my shoes, I’d feel helpless too. I understand it.”

He sighed in relief, “but still (y/n), I can’t imagine how your body feels…”

“It’s hard but thank you for being here and doing your best to understand it all. You are so kind. It does cheer me up Jungkook, I’m sorry I don’t show it often.” You admitted and his hold on you got slightly stronger. You decided to rest your chin on top of his head, thankful he couldn’t see your face right now as you were a blushing mess.

“(y/n), I know we barely know each other but it feels like you’ve been my…” he stopped himself before confessing a secret he held in, “…best friend for years. I have my best friends but you too now. I’m gonna get you to meet them, I promise you’ll love them. You’re part of my life now and you’re staying, got it?”

A small tear rolled down your cheek as you felt pure joy from his kind words, “thank you. I’m staying, don’t worry. You’re my…” you also almost let a secret out, “best friend too.”

A comfortable silence came around you two as you both just held each other and listened to the sounds of nature. There were sounds of a pond flowing nearby and sweet little birds chirping. The winds would blow ever so slightly, making pink flowers dance around you and Jungkook a few times. Both of you, nevertheless, with racing hearts and blushing cheeks, small smiles painted on your faces. Both of you feeling a bit sad internally for saying the words ‘best friend’ but thinking it’s right. Two oblivious idiots not wanting to ruin a new friendship, especially at a time like this. You felt ashamed of being ill sometimes; honestly you felt gross and wondered how Jungkook wouldn’t be grossed out at you. That always confused you because Jungkook complimented you even on your worst days. Due to your feelings of it, you never once wanted to think of the word, ‘romance.’

While Jungkook was worried that it’d be weird and didn’t want to scare you off, plus the time felt wrong because you were suffering; he thought you really just wanted a best friend only so he hoped his feelings could go away soon.

For him, it was probably love on the day he met you. The day he helped you. He knew because… as cheesy and stupid as it may sound, he heard bells & whistles. You had a fever but did your best and just the way you spoke and tried to carry yourself after the car thing happened, captured his heart on the spot. He knew you didn’t think you were beautiful and he thought how blind you were. When he first heard your voice, he thought you sounded like an angel. The way you treated him once he did take you to immediate care that day, he’d never forget. While on the outside you might appear cold or distant, he knew you were filled with kindness and innocence even. Never once did he believe those people who fell in love at first sight but now? Feeling so foolish for letting it basically happen to him.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After the comfortable silence, you continued your story of the doctor’s visit. With Jungkook paying lots of attention and trying to understand. He knew a difficult journey was about to begin for you. The detox process, even said by the doctor, would be extremely hard. You had only a very limited option of foods to eat which wouldn’t help you keep a steady weight. You had to tamper off a medication so that could cause anxiety and panic attacks to burst out again. Starting multiple supplements such as iron which you were scared of. You knew iron would be heavy on your stomach and you hated that feeling, it scared you beyond to feel more ill. You definitely had a horrid phobia of being ill. What person wouldn’t though? When you were younger, you never pictured getting real illnesses. Even then, you had that phobia but your phobia came to life. You couldn’t imagine the people that had it worse and were even more ill. They were beyond strong to you. Any person who was suffering, whether small or big, you considered strong no matter what.

You had to be extremely careful and the doctor gave you only a month or two. Blood-tests would get repeated to see if this process is working. Jungkook knew this was a gamble because if the doctor is wrong, you would feel more ill but he did his best to shower you with positive words and actions. He knew what was going to come this month; your moods would go up and down, your panic attacks could restart from withdrawal, it’s gonna be a major adjustment eating only a few foods and ones you weren’t very fond of. He personally felt that this doctor was rushing too much onto you. He felt this should take a longer time and that you should get more time. He knew nothing would be your fault and that you’re gonna try your best thanks to his encouragement. He knows sometimes you wanna give up although you try to hide. If that happens, he will rush to pull you up.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

As three weeks passed and the detox process almost a month in, you instantly felt the hit of it on day two. You felt extremely light now-a-days, wondering if you only weighed 1 pound because that’s how it truly felt. It was still taking time to get used to the foods and these foods such as soup for lunch now and some oatmeal for breakfast, weren’t giving you the energy you needed like the foods you were allergic to gave. You will admit though, stomach problems were decreasing which was a positive.

The lowering dose of the pill brought back anxiety attacks indeed. You weren’t sure if this would last but crying spells were becoming common. Some days, there was just nothing to cry about yet you cried out of nowhere. You also weren’t sure if this came from you being afraid of losing the pill because that was possible. The human brain is a powerful tool that can trick you sadly.

During these three weeks, Jungkook did not leave you alone unless on some days you truly couldn’t get out of bed at all. You had gone on a small break from work so luckily you had money saved for this.

You lived with your family who weren’t caring or understanding of this. Although you were a young adult, you couldn’t live alone thanks to your conditions but your family neglected you unless you fainted. Then they would help for a moment but nothing else. Jungkook saw this, being at your home a few times and decided to take matters into his own hands. He convinced his friends to let you move in with them. Granted you were to live with seven men including Jungkook but his friends were good people. He knew they would never do anything to you and knew they would be of help. Plus you needed this and they lived in a big house with a guest room perfect for you.

The doctor warned you, this isn’t a journey you should go through alone nor on your own at all. She even told you to be around caring people.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

An overwhelming amount of guilt was consuming you though. When Jungkook brought two of his friends Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin to help you move out of your house and into theirs, you started a small argument with him. You were beyond shocked that he would offer his home to you and even came with two of his friends against your wishes not to. He told his friends to go grab your things because they were strong while he took you aside to speak with you. He saw you were emotional and didn’t let his friends greet you yet.

“What are you doing!?” You yelled in a raspy voice and the yell wasn’t even very strong as you truly were depleted of power.

He held your shoulders down as you saw his friends moving some of your things out of the house and into a moving truck. Jungkook gave them the layout of your house so they could know how to navigate.

“(y/n), you have to get out of that house. It’s not going to help you at all. You’re feeling very ill and uncomfortable from the detox which is normal but you cannot stay here anymore with these people.” He said firmly and calmly, still holding your shoulders and you looked at him, all red in the face and teary. He knew this was your family but man, did they frustrate him to no ends.

“Why ar…” you choked up when more tears spilled. Jungkook just hugged you. “W-wh” hic, “why…”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He said.

Your hands were at the front of his chest and you grabbed a fistful of his shirt, your crying slowing down a lot, “Jungkook, you’re gonna ruin your life for mine you idiot.”

He separated you from him so he could look at you, with confusion written all over his face. Your hands letting go of his shirt. “What on earth are you talking about?” He asked with a frown.

You didn’t take your eyes off of his, calming down the crying and just letting tears silently roll all over your face. “You deserve to be out having fun. You’re younger than me and yet you’re here always caring for me.” Jungkook stopped frowning and felt touched as you went on. “I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me!”

“(y/n), are you-” He said but you stopped him.

“Please stop this Jungkook!” You were slightly angry, “stop doing so much for me!” you half shouted, feeling a bit dizzy. He didn’t speak yet as he knew, more words would pour of you.

“Y-you’re being… so stupid Jungkook! You barely know me!” These words had hurt him now and the look of hurt flashed on his face, making you feel worse. Your heart was pounding in your chest hard.

“Do you really care about time that much…? Does that really matter, how long I’ve known you?” He asked, looking away from you. You bit your lip.

“No… but-” You mumbled.

“But what (y/n),” his eyes focused on you again but you were silent. “Maybe I am just stupid in your eyes…”

A small gasp came out of you as you saw him smile so sadly, “no! That’s not what I think!” You definitely didn’t know how you were standing now as it felt like the world shook from beneath you.

“Then why am I being stupid?” He asked, “do you secretly hate… that I do this?” he looked down at his feet, biting his lip.

“I…” you started but felt sick and then your world turned black. You had fainted and Jungkook caught you in his arms. His friends came over. He didn’t think you would faint now but he should have realized with how frail you looked. Mentally slapping himself for it.

“Are they gonna be okay?” Namjoon asked with a concern look at you. None of his friends actually met you yet but Jungkook told them a lot so they felt like they sort of knew you already.

“They faint a lot sadly, but they will be okay. We have to get them home, ice packs help them a lot.” Jungkook said as he carried you and started walking towards the truck, “are you guys done?” He asked Namjoon and saw Jin coming.

“Yeah, we got it all now.” Namjoon replied, following him. While Jin caught up, putting the last item in the truck. He saw Jungkook gently placing the soon-to-be new house member in the front passenger seat of the car.

“Is this a good idea?” Jin asked out allowed and Jungkook looked at him, “yes. They can’t stay here.”

Namjoon chimed in, “Yeah man… you heard the stories… they need our help.”

“But they didn’t seem too happy…” Jin admitted and Jungkook sighed, “trust me. We’ll talk it out. They’re not well but I trust they will understand and accept the help.” He took a look at you, softly petting your hair. “They’re stubborn and going through a lot but this is the right thing to do.”

Namjoon replied to that, “it’s true. The family didn’t even bother to care about what we were doing… it’s sad actually. Never knew people could be so ignorant… and to their own family.” Jin nodded to that and got into the truck to start driving away from the scene with Jungkook and Namjoon sitting in the back seats since luckily the truck had them.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You woke up in a room that was unknown to you and felt your eyes blinking into focus. The window showed it was night time but a lamp was lit up in your room. The whole house was quiet. You felt a bit chilly as you realized an ice pack was under your neck as you were laying and a cool washcloth was on your forehead. You slowly got up to sit up straight, putting the ice pack and washcloth aside. You jolted when you looked down and saw Jungkook sitting on the floor, holding your one hand and his head buried into the sheets of the bed, sleeping. You realized this was probably his home that he shared with his friends. You noticed all your stuff was unpacked and everything was set up. You saw a clock on the wall that read 2:00am.

Taking another look at Jungkook, you sighed and lightly moved your hand out of his which ended up waking him.

“(y/n)…?” he asked in a sleepy-like voice, not being loud.

“Yeah, I’m awake…” you whispered, “please go sleep now. I’m feeling better.” More guilt is what you had felt at all this; him and his friends probably setting up your room and him staying here until he passed out. You felt so bad.

Jungkook took a look at your face while you weren’t looking. He was fully waking up and sighed, knowing something was bothering you.

“I know…” he started and you looked at him, “you probably don’t like this, I assume. I promise you, my friends will be nice to you. They know you are dealing with being sick. We like to joke around a lot but we will take it easy. I know you won’t be used to having seven guys around you at first but they’re really like family. They are good guys.”

The frown on your face growing as you felt super grateful but still the guilt was what was eating you alive right now. As if your anxiety picked up on it, you felt a spell of crying coming. You hated being so ‘difficult,’ you thought. Slowly, tears were pouring out. Jungkook had you move slightly as he came to sit on your bed and be closer to you.

“Please (y/n), tell me what else I can do?” Jungkook pleaded as he started wiping the tears off your face.

“Oh Jungkook, y-you…” hic, “are doing so m-much for me” hic, “already.” You blurted out.

A light bulb went off in his head at your sentence, “(y/n)… do you by any chance… feel guilty?” You nodded and cried. He pulled you into a hug.

“No, no shhh” he said so soothingly, “please don’t cry. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about at all.” He tried his best at soothing you down and vanishing your anxiety that came. You realized how much you depended on him. He was the same as your guardian angel. She was the only one who could calm you down and now Jungkook, had that same ability. His protective but affectionately warm embrace, the way he was wiping your tears off before. No other human being gave that secure feeling but you didn’t want to depend on it because it felt wrong to do so. You wanted to be stronger. You didn’t want Jungkook to miss out on life by helping you always.

When the crying stopped and you got a bit tired, he put a space between you two. The hug ending since it lasted for a few minutes but he was still close to you. His hands now on your shoulders.

“Do you feel guilty, (y/n)?” He sincerely asked, still keeping his voice down as his friends were sound asleep in other rooms and you followed in keeping a low volume.

You couldn’t look at his eyes, hesitating but the words came out, “…I do.”

“(y/n), look at me please…” He asked and you did as told, eyes red and puffy from tears. “You have nothing to feel guilty for. You did nothing wrong. My friends and I want to help you, it is no burden at all. They can adjust to things easily plus your battle won’t be forever. (y/n), you will get better. Okay?” His words were too kind for your own good.

“I just don’t want you missing out on having a normal life. You or your friends that I don’t even know yet. It’s gonna be annoying… I’ll have medical flare ups and the adjusting is so slow… I don’t think this will only take two months. That’s too fast,” the guilty words poured out as your eyes looked away again. “I’m the older one yet I’m like a baby basically right now… you’re always spending so much time with me… how can I not feel bad? You’re too nice!” The truth finally and fully came out.

Jungkook cupped your cheeks with his hands and made you look into his eyes, you blushed at the contact.

“You think I would do this for anyone?” He asked you and you had an instant answer, “of course… you always wanna help someone. But I’m just such a difficult case… this is serious and deep-”

“No (y/n),” he stopped you. “it’s true. I wanna help people sometimes especially when it comes to comforting them even if it’s just a little bit of affection to cheer them up. But I wouldn’t go all out like this for just anybody except my best friends of course.”

Confusion was all you felt because you truly believed Jungkook would be extremely devoted to anyone, even if they weren’t friends. Jungkook constantly reminded you of that loyal puppy that you could get mad at but he would still love you with so much stupid love that he’d never leave. Since you weren’t speaking he decided to speak again.

“(y/n), when you said earlier… that I barely know you… does it bother you?” He was slightly worried now at your silence. “Please, tell me what you’re thinking. Don’t be afraid.”

You inhaled a sharp breath slowly letting it out after a few seconds, “no… it doesn’t actually bother me… I’m sorry, I was being pissy earlier but I just think… you’re still too kind for your own good. I don’t want it getting you into trouble or annoying situations. You’re nice to everyone… it can backfire.”

“(y/n), I told you. I would not go this far for just anybody. So get that worry out of your head that you are bothering me. I have time that I spend with my friends and go out a little, we aren’t glued to the hip even if I spend a lot of days with you.”

‘But-” you started and he put a finger on your lips to stop you. His finger on your lips felt so warm.

“No buts. If I have to keep reassuring you because of the anxiety then I will, every single day. It does not bother me at all, my friends will not get bothered either. They understand hardships better than others.” He took his finger off your lips, letting the hand of it gently fall on your shoulder. “I know you’re extremely polite to people you don’t know well and you are very strong in front of others. You do your best to hide your pain from the public. I know that just me and your family members have seen your worst moments but unlike them, it won’t bug me. Yeah, I might get worried sometimes if I don’t catch onto things super quickly but in the end, I will realize.” It truly amazed you how sincere and mature he can get. Despite having a very silly side where he can even bully his friends a bit, not in a mean way but just to tease them; he knew when someone needed him and did his absolute best. It only made your feelings for him grow stronger and frighten you deep down.

“What about your friends… and-” Again, he didn’t want the worries to start up so he had to break your sentence.

“If those sides slowly come out to my friends, they will be understanding. I promise you. My friends have struggled with anxiety before.” You nodded and a took a leap of trust. “And no, I am not sacrificing my ‘fun’ or whatever you think.”

He took a pause, a hand still cupping your cheek because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold in his feelings anymore. He just hoped it wouldn’t turn everything to shit.

“I want to do this, for you (y/n). Do you understand?” he felt a bit shy, “I’m not doing it cause I feel the need to help you or pity you, I just simply want… to do everything I can for you. Only you… not everybody in the world. Be it hard stuff or easy stuff, sad or happy. I… just want… to be with you. Do you get it now…?”

Oblivious was too weak of a word to describe you, your awareness level was so bad but his words got your heart jumping, more than ever. You didn’t know why but the way he cupped your cheek, stared at you with this charming eyes and the words he spilled; it just made your heart wanna explode.

“You really…” you started and you could see him suddenly hold in a breath, “love helping others don’t you?”

At that, he let out a shaky breath and laughed. He actually let out a quick laugh and shook his head.

“You’re really… way too cute and innocent.” He said after his laugh. Suddenly he got serious and leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. A long kiss at that which made you secretly swoon a bit.

“J-Jungkook?” You asked and he pulled his lips away from your forehead. Instead he leaned his forehead onto yours now, with his eyes closed. You were certain your whole face was red now.

“You’re gonna make me say it, won’t you dummy?” You felt his warm breath slightly touch your face.

“I… say what?” You were so curious now and wondered if he could hear how rapidly your heart was going.

He opened his eyes in that moment, “(y/n), this timing is beyond wrong and I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship. I hate that I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I don’t expect anything back so please don’t freak out when I confess this…”

Suddenly his words weighed in heavy on you, like a train coming to an abrupt halt on the tracks. You had no confidence but you couldn’t help but think, ‘confess…? does he… oh my god… he can’t,’ your mind still going but Jungkook stopped it.

Still staring into your eyes and his heart now rapidly picking up the pace too, “I’m in love with you, (y/n).” You let out quite the large gasp and his confession didn’t stop. “I know that sounds so weird and god, this is by far the worst timing in the history of timings but I felt something since day one. I could not stay away from you even if I wanted to… I know it hasn’t been long at all but I feel… so many feelings for you, it’s starting to drive me nuts. It’s like I’ve known you my whole life.” His eyes closed now and you felt he was getting a bit shaky, definitely from nerves and possible guilt. Your heart soared however and you had to let him know what you’ve been hiding.

“Jungkookie, open your eyes please.” You whispered and he let one eye open.

“I’m sorry for this (y/n),” he started pulling his head away from yours as both eyes were now open, expecting rejection but bracing himself for it. He did not want to burden you at your weakest moment. You grabbed his head though, cupping his cheeks now. His eyes widened.

“You idiot…” you uttered and when he went to say, “wha-” you had kissed him completely making his brain fry for a moment until he closed his eyes slowly and kissed you back. It was a soft and sweet gentle kiss but you felt him smiling against your lips which made you smile back. When he pulled away from the kiss first, his face slightly red; you spoke.

“I’m in love with you too…” you admitted and the happiness he felt couldn’t be explained. He pulled you into his usual hug and started planting kisses on the top of your head.

“I can’t believe it…” he barely whispered but you caught it. Somehow the kiss and confession managed to pull you out of any anxiety you felt today. It was strange and new but a good feeling. A surprise you never expected to happen; maybe the universe wanted to hand you something special. You were already thankful for Jungkook coming into your life, so grateful that you wanted to repay him after you got better, if the treatments worked. Now you realized how much you were not a burden to him at all, letting the guilt that was eating you, wash away like it never existed. You definitely understood it now. You understood that you were different, that Jungkook considered you his special someone. It was beyond cliche and never did you think a ‘love at first sight’ type of story was gonna happen to you. Some people argue that time matters but sometimes, you can meet someone and just instantly connect with them. More than people you know for years even; it is real and it can happen. Just like it did for you and him. You thought of your gold urn necklace you wore and smiled, ‘thank you for sending him to me. I know you did.’ You didn’t see it but your urn necklace started glowing ever so lightly, almost as if your guardian angel was trying to say, ‘I only guided his path slightly towards yours. It was meant to be but you’re welcome. Please keep that happiness, for me.’

He stopped planting kisses on the top of your head and rested his chin on it now, slowly rubbing your back in small circles with one hand. “I don’t want to rush you into anything at all. We are going to focus on you getting better first. Everything else, will slowly come later okay?”

You told him, “that is completely okay with me and Jungkookie, thank you so much.”

“For what?” He asked as you two were still in an embrace, bodies relaxing.

“For helping me and for loving me. You are sweetly devoted to me, my dear and I am truly so lucky. Thank you for wanting to wait first as well.” Your words were sincere and he truly felt them, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you also, (y/n)… for allowing me to be in your life and for loving me back. I promise, it will be worth it.” Jungkook said and with that, you both had gotten sleepy and comfortably fell asleep together. Him holding you as you both slept peacefully and soundly.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

This story was inspired by real events I went through. I’ve been sick for 7 years? Gone through 25 doctors. This story is old though! The first disease I was typing about was thyroid & mine switched from hyper to hypo due to it being viral, they concluded. My diagnosis has changed a lot as the doctors were confused always. It’s been hell. My doctor here was wrong about my stomach illness. It’s something else. I had tumors now unfortunately. But I am more accurately diagnosed now & going through a brutal treatment. I got the comment, “this is so inaccurate.” You have no right commenting this & I’ll just block you. You don’t get to invalidate my personal experiences that I shared to create this. Everyone has a different body & goes through illnesses differently. It’s true, my doctors were partly stupid and got half of it wrong but this is still a FANFIC. I just wanted to write a comfort fic for anyone dealing with illness. Something nice. I used real events (from a few yrs ago) as that helps me for writing. The love story is the major fictional part, obviously lol.

695 notes · View notes

marinawolf · 10 months

Text

[hi! work has been crazy but I finally found some time to post this. An angsty first kiss fic for all my supercorp girlies- hope you like it!]

A Revelation (Supercorp)

Lena may or may not have killed Lex, but she did it to save Kara. In the days that follow, she grapples with her confusing grief, her feelings for Kara and the knowledge that she would kill Lex over and over again to save Kara. (OR: Several times Lena wants to kiss Kara, and the one time Kara kisses her.)

(Almost 4K words of angst and fluff tbh)

It was one a.m., and the darkness of the night was only matched by the heavy weight in Lena's heart. She sat on her couch, her eyes fixed on her laptop screen, but her mind lost in the haunting memories of the events that had unfolded just two days ago.

The shadows had crept into her dreams, replaying the chilling scene that had changed everything, making sleep an unwelcome torture, which is why she was trying to distract herself with work.

Lex had made a sinister last move to ensnare her in his web of darkness. With the L Corp building held hostage, he had cruelly used Kara, her closest friend, as a pawn, rendering her powerless with dreaded kryptonite. Yet, even in the face of danger, Kara had displayed unyielding courage and loyalty to Lena, standing firmly between Lena and the loaded gun Lex aimed at her even as her strength drained away.

The situation had been impossible – Lex held a detonator in his other hand, forcing Lena to make an unimaginable choice. Save Kara, the woman who meant everything to her, or save the countless innocent lives in the building.

Every fiber of Lena's being rebelled against causing harm to Kara, but the weight of responsibility for those innocent lives crushed her soul. It was as if Lex had crafted this hellish scenario solely to break her, just as he had been broken by the darkness that consumed him.

In that desperate moment, Lena's mind became a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

But the woman standing before her, the one she was secretly in love with, was worth fighting for, worth sacrificing everything to keep safe. It was her fear for Kara's life that made Lena reach for the gun she had concealed, clutching onto the last shreds of hope to rescue both Kara and the innocent souls caught in the crossfire.

Time seemed to stand still as she pulled the trigger, the sound echoing through the air like a chilling proclamation of her resolve. The bullet found its mark, and Lex's body crashed through the window, disappearing into the night, but not before Lena saw the shock and betrayal in his eyes.

But no body was found, leaving Lena with the torment of uncertainty – had she truly taken her brother's life?

The days that followed were a blur of guilt and sleepless nights. The image of Lex's haunting face, juxtaposed with the memories of happier times, tormented her relentlessly. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the Lex she once knew – the kind, sweet big brother who had once been her protector, before corruption twisted him beyond recognition. It felt like she was being pulled apart by conflicting loyalties, torn between the darkness of her actions and the knowledge that she had ultimately done the right thing.

And now, as she sat on her couch at one a.m., her emotions reached their breaking point. Tears welled up in her eyes, ready to spill over. She felt adrift in a storm of self-doubt and remorse.

But just as she was about to be swallowed whole by her emotions, to be consumed entirely by the darkness, a familiar thud outside on her balcony drew her attention. Her heart, heavy as it was, skipped a beat as the door creaked open, and Kara stepped into the room.

Her radiant presence illuminated the darkness around Lena, a lighthouse guiding her through the storm. With her blond hair gently tousled by the night breeze and her brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the soft light of Lena's living room, Kara was a vision.

A heart-stopping smile graced Kara's lips, and Lena's brain short circuited for a second. Despite the turmoil inside her, she couldn't help but smile back, a small flicker of light in the shadows. Kara's presence always had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

"Kara, hi," Lena whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Lena. How are you holding up?" Kara's voice was gentle, filled with genuine concern.

Lena's gaze, clouded with unspoken anguish, met Kara's tender eyes. The kindness and care reflected in Kara's gaze threatened to shatter the fragile facade Lena had constructed to hold herself together. She clenched her trembling hands, determined to suppress the overwhelming surge of emotions, and instead fixated on Kara's consuming presence.

"I'm okay, all things considered," Lena managed to respond, her voice laced with a hint of weariness. But she knew that Kara, with her unparalleled understanding, saw through the veil of strength Lena presented to the world. She could sense the tumult raging beneath the surface, the cracks in Lena's composure.

Without a word, Kara sat down beside Lena, her graceful form slipping effortlessly under the blanket Lena had draped over herself before she took the laptop from Lena's hands and gently placed it on the floor. The contours of her Supergirl suit accentuated her physique, offering a fleeting and welcome distraction from the weight of Lena's thoughts.

Kara snuggled up to Lena, a strong arm encircling Lena's shoulders, drawing her into a protective embrace. The proximity, their bodies pressed together, sent Lena's heart into a tumultuous frenzy. But amid the whirlwind of conflicting feelings, Lena found safety in Kara's comforting presence.

"I'm sorry about Lex," Kara whispered, her voice barely audible, "I know you loved him. I'm sorry you had to do what you did," she continued, her words a gentle caress against Lena's fractured soul.

The floodgates within Lena, already straining under the weight of grief and guilt, gave way. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and raw, as she began to sob uncontrollably into Kara's steady shoulder.

Kara responded with unwavering tenderness, enfolding Lena in her arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the pain that threatened to consume her. In that moment, Lena realized the true depth of Kara's understanding. Throughout the aftermath of the ordeal with Lex, others had commended Lena for her actions, expressing admiration for her courage and bravery. They had offered hollow reassurances, asking if she was okay after being subjected to such a harrowing threat. But none of them truly comprehended the complex tapestry of emotions woven within Lena's heart. No one had truly understood the agony Lena had endured—the impossible choices she had faced and the torment that plagued her every thought. None of them understood the profound grief that gripped her.

But Kara saw her. Kara felt her pain with a depth that no one else could fathom. And Lena loved her all the more for it, for the genuine empathy and compassion she showed without reservation. In that moment, as Kara placed a gentle kiss on her head, Lena realized just how much she depended on this extraordinary woman by her side.

Kara held her tightly and her hand soothingly caressed Lena's hair, offering a tender reassurance that she was not alone in her grief.

Her sobs eventually subsided, but Kara continued to hold her, their hearts beating in unison.

As Lena's tears finally subsided, she felt utterly drained, her body and soul exhausted from the emotional release. She found herself nestled against Kara's chest, their closeness causing her to short circuit again. As she lifted her head slightly, she couldn't help but notice how close their faces were, their lips almost brushing against each other. Lena's heart pounded in her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she entertained the intoxicating idea of closing that distance, of kissing Kara.

The intimate proximity sent a surge of anticipation through Lena's veins, her gaze fixated on Kara's enticing lips. They were so close, just a breath away from tasting the sweetness she had longed for. So close that she could feel Kara's breath on her own lips.

Time seemed to stand still as they sat in that charged moment. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, teetering on the edge of an exhilarating precipice, as she summoned the courage to bridge the distance and claim the kiss she desired.

Kara, still and unmoving, met Lena's gaze.

The seconds stretched into eternity as Lena's heart fluttered, desperately seeking the courage to take that daring step. But the weight of their friendship, the fear of crossing a line and losing Kara's precious companionship, held her back. Kara was there to offer comfort as a friend, and Lena wasn't willing to risk their precious bond. With a sudden, almost desperate movement, Lena sat back, wiping away her tears, and offered a shaky laugh.

"Ugh, I think I ruined your suit," she quipped, trying to diffuse the charged atmosphere that enveloped them.

Kara's smile was both tender and reassuring. "It's pretty impervious to most things, don't worry," she joked.

"Feeling better?" Kara asked gently, her concern still evident.

Lena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you."

"You should get some sleep, Lena. You look like you haven't slept in days."

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Lena's lips as she replied, "I know. I'll try and get some sleep tonight."

Kara stood up then, extending her hand to Lena, her intentions unclear to Lena in her emotional haze. "Come on, then," she said softly.

Lena was momentarily confused, her thoughts still tangled in the emotional web that had enveloped her. "Where?" she asked, her confusion evident.

"To sleep. I'm gonna stay with you to make sure you sleep."

Lena's heart skipped a beat, and a rush of emotions flooded her as she took Kara's outstretched hand. She followed Kara into the room, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude for this gesture of kindness.

Once in the bedroom, Lena handed Kara some sweats and a t-shirt, their fingers grazing ever so slightly in the exchange, igniting a spark of electricity. They settled into bed side by side, and Lena tried to control her somersaulting heart.

The comfort she found in Kara's presence was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a blend of safety and tenderness that wrapped around her like a blanket.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed her, Lena finally found herself relaxing, her thoughts consumed by Kara. Kara's steady presence offered her a sense of peace and security that had eluded her in the restless nights prior. Listening to the sound of Kara's steady breathing, Lena finally drifted off to sleep.

Lena woke up to a soft light bathing the room, immediately noting the warmth enveloping her. As consciousness swept over her, she realized that Kara had cuddled up to her in their sleep, closing the physical gap between them. Now, Kara's body pressed intimately against Lena's back, her arm encircling Lena's waist. Lena felt the gentle rhythm of Kara's breath cascading over the nape of her neck, sending a surge of electricity through her veins.

In an instant, her heart pounded in her chest, the presence of Kara so near amplifying the intensity of her emotions.

The soft sounds of Kara stirring reached Lena's ears as Kara slowly woke from her slumber.

"Hey," Kara whispered in a sleepy voice, her words laced with concern. "You okay?"

"Yes," Lena managed to choke out, her voice catching in her throat. "Did I wake you?"

Kara untangled herself from Lena's embrace, allowing her to turn and face her. The sight of Kara, her eyes drowsy but still sparkling with affection, made Lena's heart skip a beat.

"Your heartbeat woke me," Kara explained with a soft laugh, her superhearing attuned to every nuance of Lena's being. "Were you scared or something?"

Lena's cheeks flushed, and she could only imagine how obvious her racing heart had been to Kara. Of course, Kara would hear her racing heartbeat every time. Before she could find a suitable reply, Kara stood up, and stretched. The hem of Kara's t-shirt lifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of her well-defined abs, and Lena's heart rate skyrocketed once again. She cursed her body's inability to calm down in Kara's presence. Lena could have sworn she detected a mischievous smirk on Kara's lips, but the moment passed without further remark.

"Coffee?" Kara offered, and Lena nodded, grateful for the distraction. She followed Kara to the kitchen, where she busied herself with the coffee machine. Lena watched her, captivated by the grace in Kara's movements and the effortless way she made a mundane morning ritual look like an art. She loved that Kara had made herself at home so easily, as if she had always belonged in Lena's apartment. The domestic familiarity made Lena smile.

With the coffee ready, Kara handed Lena a cup. As she took a sip, Lena couldn't help but marvel at how Kara's coffee always tasted perfect. She made it perfectly to Lena's taste, something that even Lena's trained assistants failed to do.

Placing her empty cup in the sink, Lena pivoted to find Kara standing closely behind her. Kara reached around Lena, placing her own cup in the sink. Their bodies pressed together, the charged atmosphere crackling with anticipation. Lena looked up, her gaze landing on Kara's tousled hair and sleepy eyes and she longed to lean in and capture Kara's lips in a searing kiss, to express the intensity of her emotions . The desire to taste Kara's lips, to bridge the gap between them, surged within Lena, a hunger she struggled to contain. And in Kara's intense gaze, Lena could have sworn that for a second she glimpsed a mirrored yearning.

Their moment was shattered by the shrill ring of Kara's phone, piercing through the charged atmosphere. Kara moved away, swiftly grabbing her phone with a groan of frustration. "Duty calls," she lamented before dashing into Lena's room and emerging once again in her Supergirl suit.

Before she could leave, Kara turned to Lena, the concern evident in her eyes.

"Will you be okay?" she asked, softly.

Lena nodded, her heart aching, "I'll be fine. Just be safe."

"I'll be back later," she promised, and Lena knew she would anxiously await Kara's return.

As Kara disappeared into the sky, Lena found herself wishing she had seized the moment, wishing she had kissed Kara before the day took them in different directions, but she was too afraid. Time and circumstance, and her own fears, always conspired against her.

As soon as Kara's presence dissipated, Lena's sanctuary crumbled, leaving her adrift in a sea of restlessness and longing. The haunting image of Lex's face returned to torment her once again. Lena sat down on her living room floor and closed her eyes, seeking solace within the darkness, grappling with the demons that relentlessly haunted her soul.

Lena's world felt shattered as she remained huddled on the living room floor, her thoughts consumed by the overwhelming weight of guilt and uncertainty. Her mind was a whirlwind of torment, constantly questioning whether she had truly killed her brother, or if he was still out there, a looming threat, plotting his next move. Each possibility carried its own brand of torment, but she didn't know which outcome would be worse.

Lena could sense Kara's presence behind her before she even heard her voice, and she realised then that she had spent hours sitting there, on the floor. Kara's arms encircled Lena, almost immediately calming the storm raging within her.

"Lena?" Kara's voice was soft, cutting through the haze of Lena's torment.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Lena managed to lift her gaze and meet Kara's eyes. "Hey," she whispered, her voice laden with weariness and vulnerability, "You're back." Kara's mere presence offered a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos.

With gentle care, Kara lifted Lena from the floor and settled her onto the couch. Kneeling before her, Kara's eyes bore into Lena's, their intensity captivating her. Lena yearned to lose herself in the depths of Kara's gaze.

"Lena, I know you're hurting. What you had to do—I can't even imagine having to do something like that. But I need you to know that it's not your fault, okay? Lex made his choices, and he chose darkness every time. And he tried to force you to choose darkness too, but you resisted. You chose to save lives, to save me." Kara's words penetrated Lena's shattered spirit, cutting through the darkness, offering some absolution.

Tears streamed down Lena's cheeks as she finally spoke.

"I killed my brother, Kara. My own brother. I should have tried harder to save him, to bring him back."

Kara sat down next to Lena and pulled her closer.

"You loved him, but he wasn't the Lex you knew anymore, okay? He lost himself a long time ago and he didn't want to be saved. Believe me, my cousin tried. And you saved so many people, Lena. I wish I could take this all away, all this pain, but all I can do is tell you that you didn't do anything wrong. And we don't know that he's dead. If he's still alive, I'll find him and bring him back to you, okay?"

Lena nodded, acknowledging Kara's words, and they sat in shared silence. Amidst the weight of her grief, Lena's mind wandered, considering the alternate path that could have unfolded. What if Lex had succeeded in killing Kara? The thought alone devastated Lena. She realized then, with unwavering conviction, that she would willingly traverse the same harrowing path if it meant protecting Kara. For her, Kara's safety was worth any sacrifice, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.

Finally, Lena mustered the courage to look into Kara's eyes, her heart laid bare.

"You know, if it meant saving you, I would do it all over again."

The words hung in the air. Kara's breath hitched.

Lena reached out, her fingertips gently caressing Kara's cheek. The moment crackled with an electric energy. However, the abrupt interruption of the elevator's ding shattered the intimacy of the moment. They instinctively pulled apart, Lena's desires restrained by the intrusion of their friends from the DEO, who entered Lena's apartment, their voices jarring against the backdrop of the emotional maelstrom that had enveloped Lena and Kara.

Lena couldn't look at Kara, afraid of what she would see in those eyes. So she stood up, plastered a fake smile on her face and turned to face their friends.

Hours had passed since her friends departed, leaving Lena alone in her apartment. She stood on the balcony, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the illuminated National City skyline. A mixture of emotions swirled within her, longing for Kara's comforting presence, even though she understood the demands on her friend's time. Lost in her thoughts, the sudden thud behind her drew Lena's attention, and she was shocked to see an exhilarated Kara standing behind her.

"He's alive," Kara's words tumbled out, rushed and filled with urgency, causing Lena's heart to seize in her chest. "He's alive. I found a camera pointing at where he fell, and the footage shows him getting up. He's hurt, but he's alive, Lena and I'm going to find him for you. He couldn't have gotten far. I'll bring him to the DEO, and we can figure out what to do from there. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you didn't kill him."

Lena's breath caught in her throat as relief mingled with disbelief. Lex was alive. Despite the pain he had caused her, a part of her couldn't fathom being responsible for his demise. But she didn't care about saving his soul any longer- She understood now that he had willingly given himself over to the darkness. She didn't kill him and that's all that mattered. And she couldn't bear the thought of Kara placing herself in danger for her sake. All she could think about now was Kara- how much she loved her. Kara was willing to face her own enemy, to save him, just for Lena's sake, to place herself in danger at Lex's hands just to offer Lena some relief. What had Lena done to deserve such unwavering devotion?

"Kara, I--" Lena's voice faltered, her words lost in the torrent of emotions coursing through her. Before she could find the right words, Kara cut her off, her voice laced with determination.

"And also, there's something I've wanted to do."

In an instant, Kara closed the distance between them, placing her hands on Lena's waist and capturing Lena's lips in a searing kiss. Shock and surprise coursed through Lena's veins. Kara's lips were soft yet demanding, a revelation- a thrilling revelation that Kara reciprocated her feelings, that their connection ran deeper than mere friendship.

As they kissed, tears welled up in Lena's eyes, spilling down her cheeks and onto their lips. The tears were not of sadness, but of unadulterated happiness, a release of the pent-up longing, years of yearning and the countless nights she had spent grappling with her feelings. She had longed for this moment, and now it was here, making everything else fade away. Time seemed to bend to their will, allowing this moment to stretch into eternity.

In that kiss, Lena poured all her hidden feelings, her love that she had guarded so fiercely, into a single moment of pure vulnerability. She felt her doubts and fears dissipate as Kara kissed her back with the same intensity, affirming that this was real, that her love was reciprocated.

Lena's hands desperately tangled in Kara's hair, pulling her closer. As the kiss deepened, the world around them faded into insignificance. There was only Kara and only Lena, and every hidden feeling now laid bare.

As they reluctantly broke apart for air, breathing heavily, Lena's voice trembled as she finally confessed,

"I love you."

And in response, Kara kissed her once again, with an intensity that spoke volumes.

And as they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, Kara whispered,

"I love you, too."

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #kara zor el #kara danvers x lena luthor #lena x supergirl #lena luthor x kara danvers #protective kara danvers #supercorp first kiss #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fandom #kara zor el x lena luthor #lex luthor is the drama

248 notes · View notes

littledollll · 1 year

Note

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a Larissa Weems x fem reader fic? Reader is an outcast too, she can control people's dreams (for better or for worse) however she can't control her own, and she's the language teacher at Nevermore and her and Larissa have been dating for a little while now. One night she has a really bad nightmare about something from the past, Larissa manages to wake her up from it; as reader had been clawing at her own skin, making it bleed etc and when she wakes up larissa has her arms pinned and is trying to calm her down? Like laying on top of her trying to level out her breathing, kissing her cheek as she whispers "You're okay, you're okay." Like Larissa baby-ing her, that kind of thing? I'm sorry if this is a little long

I’ll keep you safe

Larissa Weems x outcast!reader

Warnings: annoying teenagers٫ Stress٫ nightmares٫ unintentional self harm(it’s not too focused on), being physically restrained, idk what else

A/n: Anon i have to say, i loved this request so much i got down like 6 paragraphs in about 10 minutes, instant ideas so thank you!!, I chose Spanish since you didn’t specify and it’s my first language (in short im lazy)

“We’re doing oral reports in two weeks! I want you all to pick a topic of interest and do research on it, this will have to include a progress turn in every two days, I don’t want you guys doing it all last minute, that’s one grade. Then your written work, just what you’re going to say up front so I can follow along and assist you when you need it! That’s another grade. The final grade will be your oral report, there’s different criteria I will be reviewing but that will be in a handout I’ll give you guys on Monday we will discuss it then!”

You can hear the collective groaning and complains coming from all sides of the class, “wait when do the two weeks start”, people trying to convince you to do something else, “Would you consider adding more time?”, those asking if they can skip the oral part and just to the other two things, and the two or three going “oh does it have to be in Spanish” like it’s not the whole point of the class and assignment.

“It will be three easy grades don’t let me down guys! Yes I know how much you guys hate it but it’s in the curriculum and you will need this depending on what you want to do in the future. You! Yes my love we can negotiate the turn in period, don’t worry”

“No I am not changing the assignment! No you can’t NOT do the oral report, you will lose a full grade unless you can give me a justified reason as to why you can’t speak up front. Yes it has to be in Spanish that’s the whole point, please calm down!”

“I will give you all nightmares if you don’t stop complaining!” The whole class went silent. Finally. “But I can just as easily help you guys out if you just behave and ask nicely. As I said the details will all be discussed on Monday so stop screaming at me, class time is already over, we could all be in our rooms by now if you guys didn’t throw a tantrum”

Your abilities as an outcast were something you genuinely loved about yourself, being able to control others dreams came in handy more than you’d think. You’d use dreams to give extra practice for those who asked (which was mostly the music, choir, theater kids), those who needed extra study time for tests, when you knew your students needed comfort or a safe space, specially since you could allow them to remember their dreams. It being the last class of the day you dismissed them and headed to Larissa’s office.

————————————————————

Once you came in Larissa greeted you. “You seem rather annoyed.. stressed? did something happen, beloved?”

“Just my last class, I assigned oral reports and they are not happy about it, i mean they were basically screaming at me about it, I love them, really, I do but they don’t know how to listen!” You sighed, coming around her desk and wrapping your arms around her behind her chair.

“Who would have thought advanced Spanish students would hate Spanish so much! I know it’s not personal but the way they groan and complain isn’t that encouraging either, just makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Larissa’s hands soothed over your arms, taking one of your hands in hers and kissing it. “You’re the cool teacher, they aren’t used to not doing “fun” things in class, they’ll come around٫ love. Is there anything I could help you with?”

You groaned, hiding in her neck. “No, you’re right, I’m sure they’ll be better Monday once I explain.” Larissa nodded.

“30 minutes and we’ll get out of here, alright?” Teachers got out one hour before the principal, leaving you to wait for her everyday. You nodded and went over to one of the armchairs٫ pulling out your phone and deciding to answer emails.

You whined, dramatically putting your head on her desk, she chuckled. “More complains?” “You think they understand what “I’ll explain on Monday” means?”

They were stressing you out even more, and in your experience٫ Stress means nightmares.

————————————————————

“Love?” Larissa woke up to your squirming she thought you just couldn’t sleep, then she heard the whimpers, from there it somehow got worse so fast. The way your hands gripped your arms, your hair, how you curled into yourself, what broke Larissa out of her trance was a sob that tore through your throat. It was enough to spring her into action as she forced the sleep from her mind.

She was trying to be gentle, you were scared enough, frantic, she didn’t want any sudden movements to hurt her or you. First she tried to grab one arm, trying to shake you awake. “Angel?-“ she gave up on that quickly as she saw the cuts made from your own nails that ran down your arm and how you tore away from her just to claw at your own skin, alright option two. She straddled your legs to stop the kicking, taking your hands pinning them down.

She settled for talking you down as her thumb rubbed over your palms in what she hopped would be a calming notion “you’re okay sweetheart, you’re our room my love, it’s just us.” Your squirming died down but you were still tense, your complains and whimpers never stopped, the way you were gripping her hands was clear sign the squirming stoped merely because she essentially forced it.

“Oh my darling girl.. it’s me, my love it’s Rissa, it’s just a nightmare, my sweet, listen to me.” When you calmed slightly more she decided it was safe to loosen her hold and lean over to turn the lamp on. “It’s time to wake up darling.”

The way you snapped awake made her heart clench. How unsettled you looked, the way you looked around the room and eventually up at her, pupils blown wide panic written all over your face. She smiled at you reassuringly and leaned down kissing your cheek and forehead. “It’s okay, my sweet little love. You’re okay with me, angel.”

She didn’t want to fully surround you, it would be too much while you’re already panicked, but she also couldn’t afford you hurting either of them in that state, so she waited, and spoke softly. “You are in Nevermore, in our room, in our bed.” Larissa deemed it safe enough to let go of your arms, gently cupping your face. “I know, my love that you’re scared, but I’m with you, I’ll protect you for anything and anyone, you are safe, 100% safe, I’ll make sure of that, yeah?” You only nodded.

Larissa gave you a second. “Would you like me to move away?” You shook your head, wanting to cry at the thought, she saw it, and moved slowly, moving to your side and turning you with her, she hugged you tight and purposely slowed her breathing for you to follow, you of course did. She only hugged you tighter when she felt your arms coming shyly around her and you hid into her chest.

“I’m not expecting you to tell me what you just lived, nor am I asking, but if you want to my love, I will listen.” You shook your head again. “You hurt yourself angel, a lot, we have to take care of that later okay? But I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe every second.” You frowned and looked up at her. “How can you be so sure..” you barely mumbled out. “Well because I risked a slap across the face to save you from you.” You giggled. “I’m- very sorry.”

She pinned you down and furrowed her brows. “Are you apologizing for having a nightmare?” She kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that stupid?” A kiss to your cheek this time. “Did you cause the nightmare?” Now on the other side. “No! you know I can’t- ohhhh” she pressed a final kiss against your lips and moved to look at you, making you smile. “Right, so it’s not your fault, which means you don’t have to apologize for that, my beautiful beautiful girl.” You blushed at that, hiding your face in your hands.

“Would you like to try going back to sleep?” She asked as she moved the lay beside you, and you shook your head, curling into her. “Darling, you got here exhausted.. you still are. I’ll wake you if the nightmares start again, and the lamp will stay on.” You didn’t say anything, instead pulled yourself closer to her and closed your eyes, she smiled. “Sweet dreams, angel, you’ll be okay with me, I promise.”

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems #wednesday nevermore #wedneday #wednesday weems

463 notes · View notes

zenscrypt · 2 months

Text

"on feathers and dreams"

read it on ao3!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warnings: possession, brief self-harm (ender king hurts purposefully hurts phil's body), drowning, brief vomiting

Summary:

“This is what happens when mortals steal from gods, crow,” the King snides, narrowing his eyes as he clenches the fist tight. “Now, quiet down. I think it’s about time I’ve rested, now that you’re out of the picture.”

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

-- A self-imposed exile leads to a reunion.

You.

His skin writhes with an intruder's presence.

“What about me?” he rasps, aching eyes watching the ocean underneath him. The sun had set moments ago -- maybe hours, but he’s stopped counting -- and now, the waves lap at the cliff walls with a hypnotic motion. How long has it been now? Weeks? When was the last time he slept? Ate? Did anything besides stare vacantly at the endless horizon and entertain that nagging voice in his head.

Every part of his body aches since that moment in the forest -- he had to wrench the control away at each second, demanding the movement of his own body. His eggs had run from it. His body remained frozen so he wouldn’t chase after them with the dagger in his hand. The backpack is gone. He’s powerless.

Even his voice comes out wrong. His vocal chords are wrung from two warring voices fighting over them, a deep snarl so unlike what his body is used to, and his normal voice. It’s all… wrong.

Let me out.

The voice hisses, sharp and ringing in his head. It has no face, but he still raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?” he scoffs. “No. You’ll have to beg harder than that if you want to escape so badly.”

A quiet sea breeze rustles through his feathers. It all feels still, peaceful, static. Normally, he would be lulled to sleep by this, but something in his body refuses to let him sleep.

When he looks up, the void stares back at him.

What a familiar face. Distantly, he thinks of it as home. The night sky, free of twinkling stars and suffocating clouds, just a vast emptiness for him to soar through. This island was nice, but it was only a vacation.

The End was where he belonged.

Let me out.

“You can keep demanding that,” he sighs, disappointed. It’s like he isn’t even trying. He’s bored by each attempt because it hasn’t changed. Has it been days? “I won’t give it back so easily at your request.”

You will pay for this.

“Will I, now?”

Give me back my body.

The voice rumbles now, deep in the back of his head -- and his wings flare. “Your body?” he hisses sharply. Indignation rushes through him. His body? Does he even hear what he’s saying? “What makes you think this body is yours? It’s always belonged to me. Has your greed gotten to your head?”

You are so full of shit.

There it is.

His lips twist into a grin that stretches too thin on his cheeks. “Oh, crow,” he croons, “do you really think your insults will do anything to you like this?”

Fuck. You. Ender.

He laughs, louder, booming off the cliff face. “Face it, Philza. You’re useless like this.” The King taps his claws — his claws, not flimsy talons, dripping with the tears of the void — against stone and rolls his neck back, spreading out his wings. His wings. “Be patient. I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”

Do not hurt my kids.

“And what will you do about it?”

The King’s mind falls silent.

He hums. Typical. All bark and no bite from this little pest. “Try to take your body back. Speak for yourself if you think you’re strong enough,” he goads, returning his gaze to the void.

Die.

A laugh erupts from The King’s chest again. That really is the furthest he could do, isn’t it? How pathetic. “I will repeat this until it finally sticks to your feeble little brain, Philza: we are one and the same. You conquer every new land you’ve traveled across and steal every last piece of valuable treasure from its habitat -- and you say it’s for protection. For your safety. For your eggs. Do you really believe that fantasy that you’ve made up? Do you really think I would believe these lies you tell yourself? We both know the real reason you claim all of these things for yourself. Right?”

I didn’t take them.

The audacity. The King’s wings flare out again, feathers standing on end with rage and the pulsing amethyst light branding into his skin. “Do not lie to me, Philza.”

I didn’t take your fucking wings.

“Do not lie to me!” he roars. His fist slams into the ground, knuckles first -- and the King hears bones snap and break with a grotesque pop. This mortal body is just a puppet for the King to control, so Philza is the only one to feel the pain receptors firing. He hears a sharp, pained cry in his head and Philza’s pitiful voice finally quiets. Insolent brat.

The King lifts the damaged appendage with a flat stare. The stone underneath his first had cracked under the force, but Philza had a fast metabolism, so the hand slowly began to repair itself before the King’s eyes. It was hardly fascinating. Dragons could regrow heads.

Once it fixes itself entirely, the King rolls the wrist to test it out. It must still feel tender or sore, because he feels an involuntary flinch in his wings. He has to bite back a snarl. Of course Philza picked his wings for that.

Somewhere in his monologue, the King doesn’t pick up footsteps somewhere behind them -- but Phil does. His ear feathers twitch.

A soft voice calls out, “Phil?”

---

He didn’t hide his location on the map. It had to be a sign.

Missa had to believe that.

He told Phil he would protect him. As best as he can, with all of his willpower. Sure, he isn’t the strongest and he can barely hold his sword right sometimes, but he made that promise to Phil and he intends on keeping it.

“Tallulah… Tallulah told me,” he says to the black wings shadowing Phil’s seated form. The moon sits high in the clouds and against his back as Missa takes a step forward. It’s almost eerie, how still Phil’s body went at the sound of his voice. Just moments before, it was bellowing with a voice so unlike Phil’s, Missa was convinced somebody else -- something else -- was here.

Rose-weaved signs flash in his head. [ he… he hurt me ] [ but papa is still in there ] [ i know he is ] [ i dont know what to do apa ]

Chayanne had disappeared too. Part of Missa hoped he would find his little egg here too, along with Phil, bantering as they farmed in a new location or sparring with Phil’s cawing laughter and Chayanne’s adorable quacks. It was… wishful thinking at best. He couldn’t just ignore Tallulah’s fears.

There’s no response, so he continues cautiously, “You don’t have to say anything. I just… want to know if you’re alright. I don’t think you should be alone.”

Phil’s head lifts. Blond strands roll over his shoulder, but he doesn’t look completely over to meet Missa’s eyes. “How did you find me?”

He… sounds fine. Maybe too fine — it comes out flat, lacking any of his usual inflections, and cold. If Missa hadn’t known any better, he would’ve taken that answer the second he heard it.

But he doesn’t. “I came as soon as I heard,” he murmurs, trying to see past the shadows of Phil’s face. There’s the faintest glow of something violet illuminating his face from a downward angle. Underneath his black feathers, a pattern of light pulses slowly, like a heartbeat. Missa doesn’t tell him -- them? -- how long it took. They don’t need to know that; as long as they-- Phil knows that Missa was looking for him, that’s enough.

“You’re too late.”

“Maybe I am,” Missa says without missing a beat, confident as he takes another step forward. Phil’s wings begin to spread and, despite the warning signs, Missa advances. “I’m always late, aren’t I? Phil-- I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t respect my promise like I told you I would. I woke up for Tallulah, spent as much time with Chayanne as I could, but-- I couldn’t do it for you. I’m sorry.”

The Ender King scoffs. Missa shoves aside the queasiness rising inside his empty ribcage, because they’re using Phil’s voice but it sounds nothing like him. He knows better. “Your apologies mean nothing to me. He’s too far gone to hear this. Leave me, or else.”

Or else. Or else what? Missa’s resolve burns through the dread that tries to freeze him in place. “Tallulah wanted me to tell you, if I found you,” he continues with another step, and another dangerous twitch of those obsidian wings, “that she forgives you for attacking her. You’ve always looked out for her and Chayanne -- that’s why you’re doing this now, right? You just want to protect them. She knows. She forgives you.”

Tallulah doesn’t.

That’s the thing. She was terrified at the thought of following after Chayanne to try and find her papa, conflicted because of the fear this deity instilled into her and her love for her father. She didn’t take to any of Missa’s reassurances -- she was as stubborn as her feathered parent, albeit so much more intune with her emotions.

More importantly though, Tallulah told him that Phil knows she wouldn’t forgive so easily. It takes time for her to recover from her wounds, no matter how fresh they are. Phil would know this.

When Phil’s body finally turns to look at Missa, his eyes are wide. “She does?” he whispers, in utter disbelief.

Missa nods. “I missed you,” he adds quietly.

…There’s truth to that one, unfortunately. It feels too easy, and he hates that it works. Phil’s body sways as they stand up -- and Missa rushes to close the gap between them, reaching for Phil’s hands. They’re almost unrecognizable now, covered with black scales and nails sharpened into something far stronger than this sharper-than-average, black-painted nails.

He’s always loved Phil’s hands. The few nights where they were under the same roof, he asked if he could paint Phil’s nails for him. It was something that brought unnamed nostalgia to Missa, a memory from his past life he couldn’t exactly grasp, and it was a fun night where they learned they could paint Chayanne’s nubby paws as well. Phil’s hands were always nice and well-kept.

Like this, they’re completely gone. Not to mention the black mass pulsating on Phil’s shoulders with that violet glow he spotted earlier. His nonexistent stomach twists into knots. He rubs his thumbs along gnarled knuckles and, holding eye contact, asks Phil, “Are you okay?”

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. The wind lets his hair sway, his wings ruffle, and the act is laughable. Missa almost feels insulted. “I’m fine,” they reassure Missa with no reassuring inflection. “Now, what did th-- Tallulah tell you?”

Missa glances away. “She… everything, Phil. It- it freaked me out a little bit, but-- are you sure you’re okay? I just wanted to come here to make sure everything was fine. I’ll leave if you want.”

Phil’s wings twitch again -- Missa’s starting to realize this must be an involuntary twitch, because the sigh they let out sounds… aggravated, and the wings tense against Phil’s back again. Missa tries not to let his surprise show. He’s still in there.

Behind Phil’s body, past his wings, the edge of the ocean meets the starry sky. It’s an impressive sight. They’re fairly high up.

“I told her not to tell any more people,” Phil’s voice says with another displeased sigh. His eyes lift back to Missa’s. Gone are the beautiful azure he loved so much, replaced with a cold, amethyst purple. When they look at Missa, it’s like they’re looking through him. “How much do you know? The King won’t be happy when he hears about this.”

You don’t seem like it, Missa thinks, unimpressed. He swallows and glances away from Phil’s changed eyes. “I- I mean, I can pretend I don’t know anything? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snoop.”

He’s still in there somewhere. Missa needs to get him back.

He… isn’t a fan of the idea he’s come up with though.

Phil’s eyes soften. He reaches up carefully with his unbroken hand, cupping the underside of Missa’s cheek in his black, clawed hand delicately, as if he were a flower. His touch is ice-cold against Missa’s wispy skin. “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispers, violet eyes searching his. “This is all my fault.”

Alright. That’s enough.

Missa slams his hands into Phil’s chest.

Lo siento, querido.

The cliff’s edge drops off directly into the ocean. Missa saw it as he paddled his boat to the island and worried, for the longest moment, that Phil’s distant figure was going to jump. Would he have flown, if he did? Did the deity Rose heal his wings like Chayanne told him? Would it be Phil that finally gets to spread his wings -- or somebody else?

Phil doesn’t fall. His only tether to stability beside his feet, desperately scrambling against the stony edge, is Missa’s hand, clenched around the collar of his kimono.

“What--” The King snarls -- his voice booms suddenly, unnaturally deep in Phil’s light voice and echoing over the cliffside.

Missa holds firm, staring down violet eyes stretched wide as saucers. He can’t hold this for long, but he keeps his stance balanced. There’s a chance this might not even work. Missa could be wasting his time.

Better him than Chayanne.

Phil’s wings pump through the air for his own balance. The flaps are stilted and uneven, strangely enough -- it’s not instincts trying to keep him upright. Something is holding them back. Is something trying to… keep them closed? Hope wells inside Missa’s chest.

The loud, thunderous voice quiets back to Phil’s as if nothing happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” they say incredulously, feigning innocence.

“Let me talk to him,” Missa says firmly.

They bat his eyes. “Talk to who? I’m right here, love.”

It’s all wrong. How smart does this thing think they are? Missa’s arm starts to shake with the strain of holding Phil’s weight -- so he gives the thief a thin, weak smile. “Philza never calls me love.”

Cloth slips from his hands, and Phil’s body plummets.

Without missing a beat, Missa dives after him.

(He really hopes the Ender King is allergic to water.)

There’s barely enough time for Phil’s body to rotate and catch the airs in his wings for flight. Those huge, black shadows billow in the wind as the thing controlling his body thrashes, suddenly out of his element, eyes stretched wide and fear in their grimace. Those wings have been broken for so long. Maybe, if they had the chance, they could’ve flipped around and taken control of his flailing body as they fall.

Missa can’t let that happen.

It’s a horrible feeling, taking hold of Phil’s wings in the air. Claws flash, but Missa grits his teeth through the pain and the cold drip of his blood down his face to hold Phil’s body as tightly as he can. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.

Faintly, as the ocean below swallows them whole, Missa wonders… if Phil could fly, would he take Missa with him?

The water around them makes everything go blurry, sluggish, heavy. Missa is naturally weightless, but the armor he’s wearing lets him sink further down. More claws swipe at him until their squirming gets to be too much -- they break free with a sharp knock against Missa’s jaw and shove him away.

The Ender King’s eyes are terrified. They’re holding their breath, eyes wide and furious when they glare at Missa, but quickly, they look back up to the surface above them and try to swim for it. They kick Phil’s legs and pump his wings frantically -- Missa panics, thinking they’ll manage to escape the second they break free from the ocean’s grasp -- but then, Phil’s wings stiffen up. Their eyes shrink even further.

“No!” they screech, and all of the air rushes out of them in large, globe-like bubbles. As loud as the voice once was, the water muffles the booming effect, as if trying to silence his cries. “Stop-- give me back my body, you--”

All of Phil’s limbs freeze in their scramble. Missa watches as they try to suck in another breath and only take in the seawater, sputtering and seizing. It’s horrific, trying to watch somebody you love try to fight for control with no room to breathe. What is he supposed to do? What can he do?

The King continues babbling, voice growing shrill without any oxygen in his lungs, “Not again! Not again, I can’t-- No--”

Missa counts the bubbles rushing from his lips until there’s no more. The ocean grows still. Quiet. Phil’s body sinks.

Limp.

He’s going to die.

The realization spurs Missa into action immediately. He went unconscious, but Missa only has a minute until Phil dies and respawns somewhere else.

Hurried, frantic Spanish spills out of him as he takes Phil’s body in his arms and swims up to the surface -- Phil’s head lulls onto his shoulder the second they both break free. Land- land-- where--

There! Where Missa left his boat, a small shore under the cliff roof, but far away. Too far for Missa to reach with Phil’s -- heavy -- body in tow. Hastily, he searches his inventory.

It’s cluttered with random items he picked up along the journey after Phil’s map marker, but a singular enderpearl catches his eye. Thank the gods he decided to take it with him for some reason, as if he could’ve spoken with the Ender King through it or some shit-- it doesn’t matter. Missa grabs it and, without missing a beat, launches it in the direction of the beach.

As it flies, Missa wraps his arms around Phil’s body and squeezes him as tight as possible against his chest. Please teleport with me, please teleport with me, please--

Pop! Missa hits sand with a heavy weight in his arms.

It worked. He has no time to celebrate. Carefully, he adjusts Phil onto his back, taking as much care as possible with his wings, laying them out flat and not kneeling over sodden feathers, and his trembling hands hover over Phil’s body. The death counter ticks in his eyes. Fourty seconds.

And counting down.

Dios mio. What does he do?

Breathing-- is Phil breathing? He peels off his gloves and throws them somewhere in the sand, bones rattling in the dark wisps that make up his skin and making it nearly impossible to stay still to check for air. He hates how pale Phil looks, and the dark circles around his eyes, and the way his face is too slack -- is he breathing? If Missa’s hands would stop shaking--

Twenty-five seconds. Phil still hasn’t moved. Tears well in Missa’s eye sockets. Why hasn’t he moved?

Pulse-- check for a pulse-- please, why isn’t he-- it’s the best thing Missa can do, carefully pressing against Phil’s neck, trying to remember where the pulse point is. Twenty seconds. He bites his tongue to hold back a whimper. Phil, please--

Thmp. He can barely feel it. Thmp… thmp… thmp…

Is that--?

Water gurgles.

Immediately, Phil’s body seizes and water splatters from his open mouth -- Phil’s eyes shoot open as coughs rip from his throat. Missa retracts his hands with a surprised squeak, eyes stretching so wide it hurts but-- Phil?

He rolls to his side to dry heave, a painful, guttural noise that Missa hates, oh, Gods, please let him be fine. His whole body shakes with each retch. Missa, twitchy, anxious -- needing to do something because is it Phil, is he okay, how can he help -- finally gives into his urges and reaches over to brush Phil’s long hair out of the way as he vomits the seawater out.

When he finishes, Phil lets out a shaking breath and slowly, on shaking limbs, pushes himself up into a sitting position. Missa’s hands follow him carefully for support.

As he catches his breath, Missa hovers still. The silence wanes on. He can’t see his face -- his eyes, Missa just wants to check, dreading the sight of that same purple glow that’s still stuck under his feathers.

“Phil?”

His wings shift. Weakly, Phil’s head lifts to meet Missa’s seeking eyes.

Blue.

“Hey, mate,” Phil croaks, looking exhausted.

It’s-- Missa can’t help it -- an overjoyed sob escapes him, tears finally bursting from his eyes. “Philza!”

“Mis-- ouff--”

He doesn’t have time to return Missa’s exclamation the way they normally do before Missa collides into him all at once. A caw startles out of him -- so crowlike Missa is swarmed with adoration and endearment and relief. Phil’s okay, he’s alive, he’s back -- Missa has to bend down and shower his face in loud, blubbering kisses, vocalizing each with an exaggerated, “MWAH!” that makes Phil burst out into breathless laughter. It’s the only distraction Missa can give himself, trying so hard to keep his trembling bottom lip shut.

For Phil. For Phil.

“Okay, okay!” Phil laughs, craning his neck away for space but Missa only takes the opportunity to press his lips underneath his jawline and blow a raspberry against his skin. “What the fuck-- Missa! Chill out!”

His words are meant to be sharp, but he’s giggling like he’s drunk and Missa feels like it. It’s infectious; he feels silly laughing into Phil’s neck, needing to cling onto every inch of Phil’s skin he can reach, relieved and happy and so, so, so-- scared--

A sob tears out of him.

Missa has never been the strong one here.

“Oh, mate,” comes Phil’s achingly sweet murmur into his hair. Missa curls in on himself, into Phil’s embrace, letting the terror finally sweep over him.

Gods above, he almost killed Philza. He knows how painful death is for him, even if they respawn-- but if he respawned, he would be with Chayanne and Tallulah. He would’ve put them directly in harm’s way if he didn’t save Phil in time. They could’ve died because of him.

Missa wants to be strong for his family. He tells them, over and over again, he wants to protect them the way they protect him. He wants to be there for them when they need it. He wants to love them as much as he can.

But he can’t. He’s gone so often, and he can’t help it -- can’t help it when Death calls back to him in his sleep and he loses himself in his past again -- no matter how much he tries. If this plan of his failed, his kids would’ve been through the same thing. Gone, except, unlike him, they won’t be able to escape.

How can a protector do that? How can a father do that to his kids? He doesn’t deserve the title of a husband, much less a parent. All he does is sleep and dream, and-- and--

“I’m sorry.”

Missa hiccups. Phil’s voice vibrates against where he’s buried himself against his throat, his hands loose where they’re wrapped around Missa’s back. He leans just as heavily onto Missa, muttering, “This is all my fault.”

What?

Phil sucks in a breath -- and Missa hates that it sounds shaky like his sobs, which can’t be right. “I should’ve- I should’ve known he was coming after me. All of the warning signs were there. I took that stupid backpack without even thinking about it, and look where that fuckin’ got me. I’m-- god, I’m fucking stupid. The worst fucking dad.”

What? No, no, no-- Missa lifts his head away with his eyebrows knitted together, finding Phil staring resolutely away from him, his teeth gritted and eyes glimmering in the moonlight. That doesn’t make any sense. Why is he blaming himself? What is he blaming himself for? A deity possessing him? Is he being ridiculous?

“Phil, what are you talking about?” he whispers.

He watches Phil grind his teeth and give a very forced, controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes shift down to the sand underneath him, the space on his opposite side where Missa isn’t is, down into his lap. When he opens his mouth, his jaw trembles as he laughs something harsh and bitter, spitting, “I’m fucking terrified, Missa. I don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

His voice cracks in the middle of his words, and the second he finishes, Phil shatters.

Missa watches his face crumple in dismay. “No, no, no, querido,” he moves quickly and shushes him gently, gathering Phil in his arms. A strangled noise, torn between a sob and wail, gets muffled into Missa’s cloak and Missa cradles Phil’s head closer, pressing his lips to the golden crown of his hair. Skeletal fingers run through his scalp as delicately as he can.

How long has this been going on? How much has Phil been holding this all in?

Has he told anyone this?

Everybody must think of Philza as the most collected person on the island -- even Missa thought that, because who couldn’t? He held himself together well, kept to himself, and offered kindness whenever somebody needed help. He’s always been the one protecting -- because he never let anybody else do it for him.

He grew up so alone. Of course he would expect to manage on his own, but--

Missa screws his eyes shut, feeling more tears drip from his sockets. He can’t handle this problem by himself. And now…

Taking in a shaking breath to calm himself, Missa pulls away from Phil’s embrace. His face is red and splotchy, eyes swollen, and he makes another strangled grunt, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and mucus. His shoulders still shake with labored breath and the occasional hiccup. He looks miserable.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s the only person that’s seen Phil like this.

Missa’s hands gently sweep away his to cup his jawline, tilting his face up. Tears stain his cheeks -- wet streaks that replace the sticky, dried-out marks from the seawater that was on his skin -- and Phil still can’t look him in the eye. He doesn’t seem like he’s used to this attention. This kind of vulnerability.

That’s fine. Missa brushes away the fresh tears that bead from his long eyelashes. He holds Phil, just like this, taking him in. He doesn’t want Phil to hide this from him, not when he’s here.

When blue irises finally focus on him, it’s shy. Missa’s chest flutters. Even like this, he can’t help but feel enamored by the crow in his arms. He had no idea someone so strong could look so bashful at someone like Missa.

Love is a strange thing, he thinks as he leans down and fits his lips over Phil’s.

It’s a simple message, a reminder. Phil tastes like seawater, but Missa drags him deeper, willing to drown himself in it for him.

Phil pulls away first -- his breathing still isn’t steady, and the kissing probably isn’t helping, but he stretches to meet Missa’s lips again anyway. It feels like a response -- Missa was fine as long as Phil heard, but he wants to return it-- him-- his head spins.

He doesn’t care if his feelings are reciprocated or if Phil even knows how far Missa is willing to go for him, always. Relief pours over him like honey and he sighs into the kiss, letting Phil take the lead.

There’s a bit of a challenge, namely Phil needing to breathe. He parts long enough to take in a breath before diving back in, and it’s-- endearing, tickles Missa in a way that makes him giddy, but he knows he should probably put a stop to this if Phil wasn’t going to, for Phil’s sake. He’s not the one with lungs here after all.

(He also wasn’t the one to almost drown.)

Despite this though, Phil chases after him the second he starts to pull away. His nose knocks into Missa’s skull, the edges of his nasal cavity -- and still, that doesn’t deter him. Missa’s endeared laugh gets muffled by Phil’s smiling lips; he can’t help but give into his fluttering chest and Phil’s touch.

Eventually, they part, just not very far. Missa rests his skull against Phil’s forehead -- at his insistence -- to listen to him steady his breath. Behind them, the waves lap at the sand. They’ve gradually dried over time thanks to the enchanted armor they wear, but Missa feels ready to collapse like he’s weighed down by bricks.

He can’t imagine how Phil must be feeling.

“Missa…?”

He blinks, sitting back on his (hurting) knees (ow, he’s been on them too long), peering at Phil. The crow looks like a mess still, but under the moonlight, Missa doesn’t care. Phil gazes at him, hesitant -- an expression Missa’s never seen on him before.

They… have a lot to talk about, don’t they? If Phil even feels comfortable enough to talk to him about it. Something nags in the back of Missa’s mind -- a horrible voice in his head that usually points out all of his insecurities -- that this feels too perfect. The Ender King disappeared too fast. They’re too happy.

Chayanne is still missing. Tallulah is no doubt worrying about him, and Phil, and now Missa. The sand underneath them is bathed in that eerie purple glow from the mass on Phil’s back -- he said something about a backpack? -- and Missa still feels the edges of his fears still gnawing at his bones. Phil isn’t okay, and there’s no telling the next time Missa may wake up.

Phil’s voice carries in the breeze. “Can… can you stay here tonight? With me?”

Oh.

A warmth, fuzzy and like the sun, coils in his ribcage. Missa nods, maybe a bit too aggressively, with, “Sí, sí, si me quieres aquí. Anything, Philza.”

Phil’s smile crinkles the edges of his eyes, his crow’s feet, in a way Missa thinks only he’s seen before. “Thank you. Th- thank you, Missa.” It sounds as if the world is lifted from his wings. Maybe it has.

It isn’t much, but it’s something. They find a spot underneath a tree, far from the beach or the stony cliff, and Phil lights up the area as much as he can despite his exhaustion. As they work together, they talk. This isn’t the end of it. The water scared Ender off, but it didn’t get rid of the mass on Phil’s back, or the darkened claws that were Phil’s hands.

It was enough for tonight. Phil hadn’t slept as a punishment to himself, afraid Ender would take control in his sleep -- but that ended in his downfall the moment his consciousness lapsed with the sleep deprivation. Ender swooped in, and Phil was too exhausted to try and fight back.

So it comes to no surprise that Phil’s asleep the second his head hits Missa’s lap.

Blond hair weaves through Missa’s skeletal hands as he chuckles quietly. With two fingers, he picks up a lock of his hair and presses his lips to it, murmuring to Phil’s sleeping face, “Buenas noches, querido. Que descanses.”

The moon above them wanes into something full, bright, whole -- a lunar eclipse just ending. It watches Missa slowly drift to sleep as well, hearing Death’s distant call.

For the first time in his existence, Missa fights against the natural calling of his undead body. Maybe it’s a pointless fight. Maybe Death will still claim him in the end. Maybe he’ll give into the urge with his fears too heavy and pressing in his mind and submit himself to the void.

He fights because he wants to wake up next to Phil. He can’t leave him alone after tonight. He wants to help him with this, in any way he can.

Just like he promised.

#my writing #qsmp #philza #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #missasinfonia #qsmp ender king #deathduo #death duo #pissa

50 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 10 months

Note

Hii, I love your work <3, it's so good

I was wondering if you could do a Klaus x reader when Klaus is reader's psychologist or therapist and he knows all her shit and falls in love with her (I'd even like to see some jealousy from Klaus because reader always chooses men who treat her horrible and he tries to be professional about it but in the end he can't, he kind of thinks he would treat her better (even in the sexual part))

Which would hurt more?

Klaus had been seeing his client Y/n L/Y/N for a few weeks now, once on a Sunday and again on a Thursday for an hour or so each time depending on his schedule and if he could push other clients back to hear her.

He knew he probably shouldn’t have a favourite patient but despite most of their conversations being on rather traumatic or emotional topics, he looked forward to seeing her and listening to everything happening in her day to day life as well as her past.

He enjoyed seeing her progress and helping her to understand her own feelings. Even if he mostly listened and offered advice that he knew she wouldn’t actually use.

So there he was already waiting on his chair with the door open for her to come in while he got the past session notes out. His lips turned up as he heard her voice ring from the hall

“I’m so sorry I’m late Dr Mikaelson, I got caught up” she explained, through heavy breathing as she rushed in and closed the door before going to her usual choice of seating opposite him.

“Not an issue y/n, and please call me Klaus” he smiled at her and she quickly mirrored it as she dropped her bag and brushed the hair out of her face. “So, how was your morning?” He questioned while clicking his pen

“Well- okay so last night I was out with this guy right? Whatever, stayed the night at his but then woke up and I was like shit. I’m on the other side of town, no car, lost my keys, the dick took my cash from my purse and disappeared before I woke up and I couldn’t find my phone anywhere so I had to find my own way here without any money. Ergo I ran cuz I woke late and I’m just behind on everything, you?” She rushed out in one long breath leaving him speechless for a moment before glancing to his empty page.

And then began a long session about her decisions, how she got to them, how she would do them differently and why she thinks she chooses then more often than she’d like.

See Y/n seemed to do this a lot. From what Klaus could tell, she frequently allowed random men to use her body only to feel awful about herself after. He assumed it to be her own version of self harm, abusing her body to try feel better for a moment.

Problem was she didn’t see it that way, and he knew she planned to keep doing it. And although he had many suggestions, he couldn’t exactly tell her what she can and can’t do.

But he could be there for her and try to help her find a better way to her future.

And over time, he managed to see some change in her behaviour. She got more self aware and was able to move past some of her childhood trauma.

The problem with her being self aware was that she knew what she was doing and it was only upsetting her more each time she had to tell him that she’d done it again.

And although he hasn’t ever hugged a patient in the past, he couldn’t help but comfort her as she cried for nearly the entire session. It was his main mistake.

Having her in his arms felt too good for her to be just a client. Being able to smell her hair as her face nuzzled his neck was delightful and in that moment he wished they were stood in his their own house, under entirely different circumstances and together.

Of course once she pulled away and sniffled her ‘thank you’ back to him, he snapped out of it and cleared his throat to try and push away his thoughts.

And from then it only got worse.

One hug became many over the weeks, until she was greeting him and leaving him with a cuddle each time.

And then the dreams kicked in, he knew he could treat her so much better than any other and he loathed every man who took advantage of her vulnerable state. He just wanted to have her as his, to hold and love her like she deserved.

Of course he tried to shove his thoughts away when he actually saw her but then she began wearing more intriguing outfits. Revealing and suggestive clothing that surely drove his mind mad.

His eyes would shut and his lips would part as her breasts pushed right up against him and she hummed with her lips by his ear. Klaus couldn’t help his mind wondering to the idea of having his face between said breasts, hands squeezing and fingers pinching. He couldn’t help glance down for a second as they pulled away to get a peek at her cleavage and when he looked back to her eyes he knew she knew and that made it harder.

Months went by and he found himself waking up with her name fresh on his lips, cock up and solid, sweat coating his body as he groaned aloud and pulled the blanket off his body only to sigh in defeat at the cum that already covered his abs.

She made it difficult to concentrate on anything she was saying now that such a rich red lipstick painted her lips each day, his note book became more and more blank each session and he seemed to find himself picturing her in all sorts of positions as she told him about another imbecile she slept with. God he just wanted to have her beneath him, head back as she screamed his name and forgot about every fool she had ever been with before.

And when she kept coming to him upset or hurt both physically and/or emotionally by another boy…he couldn’t stop himself from snapping and telling her she needed to stop abusing herself which caused a heavy silence to hang over them.

She had cleared her throat and pulled at her jacket to hide her breasts that she had originally wanted on display for him.

And that’s when he realised that he was another person who she though would use her and leave her. She wanted him to hurt her.

He stood up slowly and moved to sit beside her on the couch she were on, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, he rest his chin on top her head and sighed through his nose

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry y/n” he told her

“It’s fine, you’re right” she whispered but he could hear the crack in her voice and it hurt his heart.

He kissed her temple tenderly and helped her onto his lap which probably wasn’t his finest idea but he did so nevertheless. His hand gently rubbed up and down her arm as she bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to not cry again in front of him even though it was what he was there for.

“I never mean to upset you sweetheart” he murmured, tucking some of her hand behind her ear

“I’m sorry” she whispered and he frowned

“No lovely, never be sorry, it’s my job to listen to you. I was very out of line…” he thought for a moment before his brain gave him a brilliant idea “how about we do something to cheer you up? You like sweet things don’t you y/n, how about we go to the cafe just down the street?” He offered

“Is that allowed?” She asked quietly, of course she wanted to spend time with him and she had purple been trying to get his attention but now she was getting it, she worried that it would hurt his career. He was a highly recommended psychologist and she wouldn’t ever want to ruin his reputation.

He hesitated for a moment before sighing “probably not no…but I’ll go get you something and bring it back okay? You happy to wait here?” He leaned back to see her face as she turned to him.

“Are you sure? I’ll grab my purse so-“

“Nonsense love, It’s my version of an apology” he hushed her as he stood “just stay here, snoop if you must and I’ll be back shortly” he kissed her forehead before leaving.

It was an odd situation to be in, her psychologist holding and kissing her and buying her things to make her feel better.

She thought she’d seduce him, fuck him and then he’d have to let her go as a client and she’d be on her own again. But he didn’t take her against his desk and then throw her out, he kept looking out for her, taking care of her and being kind. It was bizarre and everything in her argued on whether she should run or stay.

She wasn’t sure which would hurt more. Staying, falling completely in love with someone she knew she wasn’t allowed or running away from the only good thing in her life at the moment.

She was never great at decisions and Klaus knew that.

Which is why he wasn’t overly surprised when he got back with the cakes in his hands only to find that she had left only a note as a sign she had once been there.

He placed the food down and sighed, he shouldn’t have left her alone. He didn’t know what he was thinking anymore. He just knew that she was important to him now and he needed to find her, sooner rather than later.

237 notes · View notes

thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Text

Someone to shed some light - pt. 6

Astarion x gn!reader

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You learn your place in Calthir and what that means for your future. An unexpected conversation is overheard, and it changes everything.

Warnings: Threats of suicide/self-harm, very brief suicidal ideation, mentions of blood and death.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, you have no idea how much I appreciate you! Your comments on each chapter are so inspiring and I've been having so much fun working on this fic. There sadly isn't as much Astarion interaction in this chapter, but there'll be plenty of that to come. I hope you enjoy! And thank you once again to @aerynwrites for brainstorming over this chapter with me and making the lovely header image!

It’s the harsh light of the morning sun that pulls you from a lovely dream, scalding into the sensitive skin of your eyelids and searing at your skin. Even through the tent, it’s unbearable. Or, perhaps, it’s the memories that accompany it that you can’t stand.

Within seconds, the dream is gone - a sweet, fleeting picture lost to a bitter reality - and you’re left laying on your side, aching in every part of yourself. Mind, body, and soul.

All your anger at Cal has seeped out of you and left something else entirely: numbness. Gods, you feel absolutely nothing. Or - no, that’s not quite right. You feel hollowed out. It’s as though every muscle of yours has been filled with lead. You can’t find it in yourself to get up.

Astarion isn’t at your side, but when you force yourself to shift a little, you see he’s still in the tent - very clearly eavesdropping on a conversation taking place outside. His head is tilted toward the sound and his shoulders are tensed: ready to leap out of the way should he hear someone coming. He’s nimble enough, surely.

For a moment, you stare at him, the half-view of his form that you’re able to see from your bedroll. Pinched brows, a deep frown, dark eyelashes that meet his cheek when he looks down, lost in whatever he’s listening to.

What is he thinking? What’s caught his interest so keenly? And, gods, there’s something softened about his features that you’ve never really seen. It takes you a moment to connect why.

This is Astarion as he really is. No show to put on. No royal mask, no seductive charm. Just himself, almost alone in this tent, sitting under the sun and listening to something he shouldn’t. The only thing comparable to this is when you’d caught him sunbathing at the palace, lost in the feeling of the warmth of his skin.

Even after last night, it’s clear he still hasn’t let his guard down around you. Given everything that’s happened, it’s not difficult to guess why. With time, perhaps. But, for now, you need to stop staring at him.

Sit up, you instruct yourself. You need to sit up.

Your body doesn’t budge at first, but you’ll be damned if one measly betrayal is going to rob you of your motivation. You force yourself up, wincing at the stiffness of your joints, shaking away the fog that’s overtaken your head.

Upright as you are, the anger slowly returns. You like it. You thrive on it. It’s something to feed off of, something to fuel you. The numbness hadn’t worked like that. It had been so - empty. You’ll take anger any day.

Astarion still hasn’t moved.

“Hearing anything interesting?” you ask softly, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, his head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, letting you know he’d heard you.

“That Aris has just arrived,” he says. “I’m sure it won’t be long before they all darken our door.”

“Lovely.” You fold your arms around your knees, stomach suddenly churning. “Freedom was nice while it lasted, I suppose.”

“It was,” he agrees. “A shame. Just when I was almost enjoying it, too.”

Your smile falls weak on your lips, but he can’t see it. You know you should eat, but you doubt that you’d be able to stomach anything. Instead, you pull out one of the bottles of water in your pack and take a tentative sip, praying that it won’t disturb your stomach.

After a moment, Astarion finally moves to get dressed for the day, and you catch a brief flash of the scar on his neck before it’s covered up. Two puncture wounds. The mark of the bite that turned him, marred into his flesh. It doesn’t pass your notice that he chooses a high-collared shirt.

You wonder if he knows that you’ll die before exposing him to these people.

Maybe, if Cal hadn’t betrayed you, Calthir would feel like an extension of you. Your kingdom. Your people. Instead, it’s just another prison. These soldiers mulling the camp are strangers, and you have no loyalty to them. You certainly won’t be what they’d expected of you.

What the hells did they do to you, Cal had asked. Are you the one who is different, or is he? You don’t feel different. Yes, you care about Astarion now. Yes, you’re on the run - or, you had been. But had that shifted you so much? Are you so changed?

It occurs to you that Cal may not have ever known you at all.

You scramble into a change of clothes before the leader can arrive, and when you hear the approach of footsteps, your throat tightens. The tent is pulled open without warning, and the sun that streams in burns your eyes. You hold your arm to your face, attempting to block some of it out, but you still can barely see the figures standing before you.

“Come on,” a voice says. “Out.”

You make your way to your feet, keeping your shoulders squared and your back straight. They won’t break you. Your fists are gearing for a fight. Your teeth are ready to draw blood.

Astarion follows after you without so much as a word, and the two of you find yourself in front of a group of armored soldiers. Aris is clear from the moment you see her: her composure says enough, and so does the anxious way her men stand behind her. A high elf. Long, dark hair, braided into a neat updo. Piercing green eyes.

“My, my,” she says. “It’s not every day that the ruler of Calthir walks straight into my camp.”

Is that what Cal had told her? He’s nowhere to be seen.

Her glance skates next to you, and when it lands on Astarion, she frowns. “And who is this?”

She really doesn’t know?

“This is Lirien,” you answer quickly, subtly shifting your right hand over your left to hide your wedding ring. “He helped me escape.”

Aris quirks a brow, cocking her head and folding her arms across her chest. “How interesting,” she says. “You see, I got a report last night that one of Queen Erelin’s carriages was attacked not two days ago. The two occupants inside are now missing, but presumably still alive. Occupants who happen to match your description.” She pauses, keeping her eyes locked on you. “One of whom was her son.”

The blood slowly drains from your face, but you hold her gaze. “That’s strange,” you reply, pasting on a smile. “I’d love to meet these doppelgängers.”

Behind you, Astarion lets out a loud sigh.

You turn to look at him, staring in sheer disbelief. “Really? You could try to play along!”

“Er - yes,” Astarion says flatly. “I’m Lirien.”

Aris shakes her head, clearly unimpressed. “Had enough?” she asks, framing her hands on her hips. “You brought an Ancunín with you. The heir to our enemy kingdom. I… I’m appalled. I really am. I don’t know whether to call you a fool or thank you for delivering him to us. In any case…” She turns toward Astarion, eyes scanning over him, and something like admiration forms in her gaze. “My deepest apologies, pretty boy. Your death is a necessary sacrifice for Calthir. ”

She makes a gesture toward her guards, crooking two of her fingers, but you act before they can. Your hand flashes out to the side - or more precisely, toward the dagger you know is in Astarion’s belt. It’s removed and pressed to your neck in an instant, the chill of the blade kissing the delicate skin of your throat.

Aris jumps, holding out her hand. “Wait-!”

“What in the hells?” Astarion exclaims, staring at you as though you’re crazy. And, well, maybe you are. But you’ve played your fair share of card games. This isn’t much different.

“Let’s be honest with each other, shall we?” you ask, facing Aris. “I admit it: this is Astarion Ancunín. But you’re not going to lay a hand on him, or I’ll cut my throat here and now, and you’ll be without your precious ruler.”

Aris stares at you, raising a brow. She’s disturbingly calm. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” you ask, pressing the blade further in. It stings, but doesn’t quite pierce the skin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have much to live for. If I stay, I’m either a pawn for you, or a pawn for Erelin. Astarion is the only thing I have going for me. Leave him alive, let him stay with me, and I’ll go with you. Do so much as lay a finger on him, and I’ll become very intimate with this blade very quickly.”

“Go ahead, then,” Aris urges, her voice steely. “We don’t need you.”

“Oh, really?” you ask. “So that’s why you’ve spent so long looking for me, wasting - what was it - hundreds of men?”

Her jaw clenches almost imperceptibly. “And who the hells told you that?” she bites out.

“Cal,” you answer. “He raised me, remember? He rubs his neck when he lies. I know he was telling the truth.”

“I can’t do what you’re asking,” Aris tells you, her tone almost pleading. “I can’t let him live.”

“In that case,” you sigh, pressing even deeper. The stinging sensation increases. A drop or two of warm blood streams down your neck, and fear finally enters her eyes. At your side, Astarion goes tense.

“Fine!” Aris says. “Bloody hells. Fine! Just put the fucking blade down!”

You keep it where it is. “Give me your word.”

“What?”

“Give me your word that he’ll go unharmed. Mentally, emotionally, physically.”

“Hells, I’ll put it in fucking writing!” she exclaims. “Just put the knife down, will you?”

You don’t remotely trust her, but you don’t have much other choice. You gently remove the dagger from your neck, reaching over to slide it back into Astarion’s sheath. He just scowls at you, looking shaken. His eyes linger on the blood on your neck for a moment, then snap back to face.

In response to his expression, you flash a smile at him. You’ve just saved his life, after all. He could at least be a little grateful.

“Can we agree that you’ll never do that again?” he hisses, leaning in close so his voice spills into your ear. He pulls a loose rag out from his shirt pocket, hastily wiping the blood away from your skin. His hands are shaking.

“Astarion,” you say softly, teasingly. “Was that concern I heard in your voice?”

He scoffs. “Just - warn me next time, will you?”

“If there is a next time,” you start, “I promise I’ll warn you in advance.”

Aris is watching you with no small amount of distaste. “If you’ll come with me,” she says stiffly, “I’ll lay down the terms of this… agreement.”

You follow after her, keeping Astarion close to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you wonder if it’s part of the little display the two of you are setting up. You know how this must look to them: that you’d fallen for Astarion, and brought him to this camp like a fool. That Astarion is a spy for Erelin.

And - well, one part of that thought is true. You’ve fallen for Astarion. His touch, though cold, seems to scald you even through your clothes. You’re no fool, though. You certainly hadn’t come here of your own accord, waltzing into camp. And, if Astarion is a spy, he’s doing a terrible job of it. He’d wanted to leave the moment the two of you laid eyes on this place.

You follow Aris into a tent that’s clearly used for planning. There’s a large, sprawling map of Faerûn spread over a table. Lanceboard pieces are being used to showcase all of Erelin’s forces, as well as some Calthirian outposts. There’s more of Calthir than you’d thought - some along the mountain pass, some along the borders of the city. The battle plans are scribbled hastily along the side, and it looks like there’s some disagreement about them, given how much of the text has been crossed out. It’s illegible, for the most part.

“Here,” Aris announces, scrawling down some words on the parchment in front of her. “I, Aris Alderfate, swear on my life that Astarion Anucnin will come to no harm: whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally, by myself or anyone under my command. Satisfied?”

“How do I know that your soldiers won’t harm him?”

She clicks her tongue. “Disobeying orders is a death sentence. He’ll not suffer a scratch.”

You stare at her, trying to find any sense of deceit in her eyes, but there’s none. Her gaze is bright, and her face is open - inquisitive. “Alright,” you finally agree. Fear stirs in your stomach, thinking about how trapped you are. How cornered in, with only your life to barter. “What now?”

“Now,” she says, “your handsome prince leaves us. This is private business.”

You shake your head. “He stays.”

“You are asking me to trust the son of our enemy,” Aris hisses, placing her hands flat on the table set in front of her. “The only child of the woman who dethroned your parents. I cannot and will not trust him. I’ve spared his life, as you’ve asked, but he will not be a part of this. Do you understand?”

You can tell that she won’t budge, but it unsettles you to have Astarion out of sight. Out of sight, they can do anything to him. She may have signed that document, but you’re desperately outnumbered, and you don’t have a dagger in your hand as a bargaining chip anymore.

Seeing your face, Aris lets out a quick rush of air. “If any of this is going to work, you’ll need to trust me. This entire operation is built off of intelligence and trust.” She reaches forward, placing a hand on yours. “Trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart. And, when this discussion is over, you’ll return to your tent and find Astarion just as he is now.”

You glance at him. He gives a light shrug, but you can see the tension etched into the crease of his brow, the squaring of his shoulders. After a long moment of internal debate, you nod.

Two guards step forward, lining themselves on either side of Astarion. “Come with us,” they instruct.

He’s led out of the tent, and a pit digs into your stomach.

“Relax,” Aris says. “I’ve given you my word. I’ll hand it to you - you’re stubborn. An idiot, maybe, but stubborn.”

You give her a half-hearted smile. “Is this how you address all your rulers?”

She straightens, letting out a sigh as she walks along the table, trailing her fingers over the map. “No,” she says. “But I don’t sugarcoat my words. Whatever you think he is to you, it’s not true. He’s trying to get you on his side. Cal was adamant you’d be too smart for that, but here we are.”

You lean forward, observing the sight in front of you. “Agree to disagree, I suppose.”

Frustration flashes over her face. “Well,” she says. “You’re a mascot, Highness. An image for the people, and that is all you’ll be. We have the forces. I have the plans. You have the royal blood. None will work without the other.”

“Alright,” you agree. “What, then?”

“We take the throne,” Aris says. “Erelin dies. This is non-negotiable. You take your rightful place as heir, and the kingdom of Calthir returns to her former glory.”

“And?” you ask. “Will I actually have a say in how I lead, or will I just be another pawn to you?”

Her expression tightens. “You’ll have a council that assists you in your decision-making,” she says, but it’s clear enough what she means. You’re nothing more than a face, a sack of precious blood. “Your marriage will be dissolved, and you’ll be settled with someone else.”

Your spine runs cold. “What?”

Her eyes pierce into you like a knife. “You’re married to the enemy’s son. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s a problem. Having Astarion in any position of power is a problem. You can keep him around if you like, have your fun with him, but the marriage cannot stay.”

She really does think you’re an idiot, fooling around with a handsome prince. “And who would be replacing him?” you ask.

“Duke Ravengard has proposed his son,” Aris says. “Wyll is a good man. He’ll be kind to you.”

You flinch at the suggestion. “I know Wyll,” you answer. “He’s an old friend.”

“Then you know he’d treat you with the utmost respect.”

“I do. And I also know he’d hate to be a pawn in your game,” you snap back.

Aris sighs. “If he refuses, then we have other options. First, we need to take the kingdom. Your suitors are less of a priority.”

“Then tell me how you’re planning to do it!” you exclaim. “What am I here for?”

Gods, you’re tired of her, and it hasn’t even been five minutes. If it’s going to be a lifetime of her breathing down your neck, maybe you really should run that dagger through your throat.

“That’s easy,” she replies evenly. “For you, at least. We’ll write you speeches. You’ll rally the soldiers. For the most part, you’ll sit pretty.”

“Sit pretty?” you ask, unable to hide the disgust in your voice. “I’m your ruler, and you want me to sit pretty?”

“Yes,” she says, “I do. Like I said, you have the royal blood. You’re the symbol - important only because of your image, nothing else. I’ve worked all my life to get to where I am, and I won’t let anything compromise that. So you are going to live a life of luxury, be the face of our revolution, and be fucking grateful for it!”

She takes in a deep breath, collecting herself. “You can go,” she says. “We’ll retrieve you when you’re needed. The guards will lead you back to your tent.”

Just like they had with Astarion, they cage themselves around you. It’s suffocating. The cool breeze in the air does nothing to stop the feeling.

They lead you to the same tent the two of you had been in last night, and when you crawl through the flap, you find Astarion in one piece. Unharmed, just as she’d said. The guards all leave, and you know exactly why. Cal’s spell is still there. You can almost feel it, still hot on your skin.

You pull the flap shut, absurdly angry, planting yourself at Astarion’s side. You need to hit something. Or scream, maybe.

“That bad, darling?” he asks. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Will she find us here?”

He blinks in surprise. “What?”

“Erelin. You said she’d never stop looking for us. Will she come for us, if she finds out the two of us are in this place?”

“Yes,” Astarion answers. “She’ll stop at nothing.” He tilts his head. “Betraying your own people?” he asks softly, though admiration lights his eyes. “That’s low, darling, even for you.”

“I’m not betraying them,” you answer. “But if she is what you say, then she’s going to find us sooner or later, isn’t she?” You pick at the edge of your shirt, hesitating. “Who do you think will win? Be honest. Just between you and me - who will win?”

He inhales sharply. “My mother’s no fool,” he says. “She married you off for a reason. She knew that Calthir was a threat. But…” He shakes his head. “Even if all of their camps are as impressive as this one, I’d place my bets on her. These Calthirian ‘recruits’ are untrained. I doubt they’ve ever seen battle. Even if they do have more men, our experience would overrule the numbers.”

You’re silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Which is worse - being under Erelin’s thumb again, never given the opportunity for freedom? Being nothing more than an image, married off to Wyll?

Gods, something isn’t right. If they’re having you marry Wyll, then they’d never let you keep Astarion at your side, even if they dissolved the marriage. No - something here is rotten. Unfortunately, since you can’t do a thing about it, that knowledge is pointless.

“Then I suppose we’d better wait for her,” you finally say. “And see what happens.”

There’s not much else of a choice.

The tent falls silent as you think, that pit of anger rising and ebbing as your thoughts pull at you one by one. You need them to go away; you need some peace, for once.

“Did you know your father?” you suddenly ask. “I know he died when you were young, but… do you remember him?”

“No,” Astarion answers. “I… don’t remember much of my past. Before Cazador.” He leans back, propping an arm behind himself to support him. “And you? Your real parents, I mean.”

You shake your head. “They died just after I was born. They fell ill, apparently. Cal is all I’ve ever known.” A bitter smile twists itself on your lips. “I used to think… I didn’t need anything else. He loved me, cared for me. He was as much my father as the one dead in the ground, his blood running through my veins.”

Your voice hitches, and you swallow hard. “All a lie, though.”

Astarion stares at you, his brows pinching. When he speaks, his voice is hushed. “When my mother - rescued me,” he starts, shifting, “I was… different than before. She kept trying to get me back - to normal,” he says. He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace. “She didn’t want a vampire for a son. Most days, she could barely stand to look at me. I…”

He pauses, giving a light, loose gesture, then turns his gaze to an empty spot of the tent. “I really thought she cared about me until then. How kind of her to open my eyes.”

Your hands clench into the pillow under you. You force them to relax. “It sounds like she wanted a trophy rather than a son,” you tell him. “You deserve better than that.”

He tuts. “Bleeding heart, spouse of mine,” he responds, leaning toward you. “Come here, darling.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, and the outside world melts away.

When you finally gather the strength to emerge from your tent that evening, Cal is waiting for you.

The sight of him carves a fresh, bleeding stab of pain into your chest. You keep your eyes very pointedly on the empty space in front of you, and he sighs.

“So this is it, then?” he asks. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

You whirl around on him, hands clenching into fists. “And what would you have me do, Cal? Jump for joy at the sight of you, after what you did? I’ve just heard your kingdom’s wonderful plans for me, and I’m supposed to - what? Be thankful that you’re imprisoning me? You lot are worse than Erelin!”

He flinches at the mention of the queen, but his shoulders square. “Gods below,” he says. “I know you’re upset, but if you’d just listen-”

“-Listen to what?” you ask. “To you, somehow making this better?”

“To reason!” Cal snaps. “For the sake of the gods. Listen to reason, child.”

When you don’t respond, trying to keep yourself from losing it all, he steps closer and lays his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. “I know how Aris can be,” he says gently. “I know how you must feel. She is our leader, yes, but only out of necessity. She knows what must be done and is willing to do it. She’s not your parents, or their legacy.”

He shakes his head, continuing softly. “She wants to feel in control, you understand. But it’s you - you’re the one the soldiers are here for. Not her. If she loses you, she’ll have nothing. We’ve worked so hard - and the gods know I’ve tried my best with you. Keeping you safe, keeping you shielded from what you are: it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

He steps a little closer, and the familiar scent of him, cinnamon and sandalwood, is making you want to fling yourself in his arms. When you were small, he used to wrap those arms around you and squeeze, claiming he was squeezing away all your sadness. What you wouldn’t give to feel such comfort again.

“Don’t confuse Aris with Calthir,” he says. “She’s intense, but she alone does not signify what this kingdom stands for.”

“And what does it stand for?” you ask. “Holding a ruler against their will? Sham marriages? Fake governments?”

“It stands for goodness,” Cal says. “How many times have you felt dissatisfied with this world? How many times has an unfair ruling been laid down by the queen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you bite out. “I won’t even be laying down the new rulings. You’re using me for power, and I’m not getting even a taste of it.”

“Or so you’ve been told,” Cal replies. “Aris doesn’t trust you. How can she, when you brought an Ancunín with you? Gods, even I was wary, and I raised you! I - I still don’t understand your attachment to him!”

You just stare at him, giving a slight shrug. “Erelin makes him suffer as much as the rest of us, Cal,” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, choked. “You don’t understand.”

He takes in a long inhale. “You have a good head on your shoulders,” he says. “I want to trust you on that. It’s not like you to be swayed by a pretty face, but… gods, I don’t know.”

“Try to trust me, then?” you ask. “I’d appreciate that, considering that no one will even be trusting me to rule. I won’t even have a say in my own kingdom.”

His brows pinch. “That’s not true. You’ll be on a council of ruling. Multiple people in power. And, no matter what Aris says, you’d have your vote on that.”

He takes another step forward, and his hands seem to scorch through your clothes, warming you from the outside in. “You could do so much good,” he says. “Give it time. Aris will soften. She’ll see who you are, just like I see you.”

“And what do you see?” you ask weakly.

He smiles. “Someone strong. Who does the right thing, when it comes down to it. Someone fit to rule.”

You look in his clear, grey eyes and wonder when exactly it was that he stopped actually seeing you.

You gently ease out of his grip, heading toward the edge of the camp, but you can feel him watching you. You can feel that damned spell of his still present on your skin. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, no doubt. It’s the complex so many have: that in order to succeed, things must be compromised, precious things sacrificed.

You’d just never thought that it would be you on the table, a lamb up for slaughter.

The next few weeks consist of the same progression of events, over and over again, played like a hellish retelling of the same story. You and Astarion are escorted around, but given no real freedom. Even the woods seem like an upgrade - at least you’d been able to choose the direction you were walking in. Such a brief taste of it, before it had been robbed from you.

You’re taken to and from meetings. You’re provided with books to keep yourself entertained. You’re provided with decent rations, clean clothes, and the occasional bath. These are the luxuries your life consists of.

You and Astarion lightly chat at night, but there’s nothing more than the occasional kiss, a brief touch of his thumb over your cheek. A shared bedroll. The circumstances of your situation are off putting enough, but it’s the soldiers and their constant, loud conversations through the night that ruin the mood for anything else.

As for the camp, there’s something unmistakably brewing in the air.

You hadn’t been able to feel it at first, but as you and Astarion spend more and more time in this place, it’s immediately clear that something is happening. You hear whispers, bits and pieces of things you can’t make out, but something is clear: there’s a restlessness to the place, like something held in chains but waiting to break free.

You may hate Erelin, but you at least admire her intelligence, her cunning. Aris, you despise through and through.

She treats you like a puppet. For the few, brief meetings you’re permitted to attend, she speaks over you, ignoring you when you chip in, not even looking you in the eye. It’s very clear that you are nothing more than your title to her, and at night, you dream of setting fire to her precious battle plans and watching the smug look on her face fall flat.

Astarion plays more bored than anything else, but you see the occasional slip of anxiety in his shoulders, the restless way he paces about. Wherever Erelin is, how will she know you’re here? Will she really use your blood to track you, like he’d told you in the carriage all that time ago?

Cal, meanwhile, has taken to following you around. It seems that he thinks, with enough time, you’ll forgive him. You don’t even look at him. If he’d ever agreed to you living like this, then he really couldn’t give a shit about you. You’re determined to mirror that feeling back to him.

Three weeks in, the camp begins its march. From what you’re hearing, Aris is joining forces with another post outside the city, but what it means for you is that you and Astarion are dragged along with the soldiers, forced by day to endure the burning sun, and given a barren tent to rest in at night.

It’s a long journey, consisting of aching feet and sweat-stained clothing and the faint brushes of relief under the shade. There must be a thousand times your eyes flit to the trees, aching to break free from this hell, but you know it’s useless. Cal puts a new tracking spell on you each morning to ensure it doesn’t expire. You shoot daggers at him through your eyes and hope he knows you hate him.

When the group finally, mercifully arrives, there’s so much chaos that you can barely think. You can’t even rest. There are so many soldiers milling around that you can’t possibly imagine how the city doesn’t realize they’re there - or maybe they do, and just don’t care.

Baldur’s Gate in of itself has no resources for war. Erelin might, and she has control over the city, but it’s not so simple. War means planning and resources and death. War means defending your actions to your people. If Calthir hasn’t attacked any major sections, then any preventative action Erelin might take will come off as dealing the first blow.

Even with the spell on you, you’re tempted to run. You’re not sure how accurate the tracking is, but in the city, you could blend in with the crowd. It’s hectic enough here to get away without anyone noticing, likely not for hours. You could hide with someone you trust. Someone who knows magic well.

But you don’t dare to risk it. If they catch you and Astarion, who knows what will happen to him. Instead, you stick by his side for the most part, wandering about long after the sun has set and the night has brought in her velvet skies. He retreats to your assigned tent once it’s dark, but you don’t follow him.

As you stroll along your new boundaries, passing by a small, inconspicuous tent, a raised voice catches your attention. Cal’s raised voice. It stops you in your tracks. You’ve seen him devastated, frustrated, determined. This is none of those. This is pure rage like you’ve never seen, bellowed anger that you’re not supposed to overhear.

“-cannot stand for this,” he’s saying. “I know you hate the boy, but this? This is not who we are!”

“This is who we must be,” comes a voice that can only be Aris. “We don’t stand a chance by ourselves. Alliances must be formed, and we cannot be stingy about our choices. Rebellions require sacrifices, Cal! If we let every moral dilemma stop us, we’d be nowhere!”

“Morals are the entire gods damned reason we’re doing this!” Cal protests. “Or have you lost sight of why we’re truly here? What we’re fighting for?”

“We’re fighting to win,” Aris replies. “Everything else is secondary. I thought you understood that.”

There’s a long, cutting silence. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest.

“They’ll never trust you after this,” Cal says. His voice sounds thick, strangled. “I hope you know that. You’ll ruin every chance of them cooperating.”

“If that’s the price that must be paid, so be it,” Aris replies.

You hear footsteps approaching and instantly duck behind the tent, waiting for the sound to fade until you’re sure they’re both gone. Alliances, she’d said. The word itches at your mind, burying itself within your distrust. Alliances with whom? What are they planning?

As carefully as you can, you sneak into the tent they’d been in. It’s small and dark, with only the barest bit of light from a torch outside spilling inside. It takes a bit of digging to find anything behind basic battle plans and lists of stations, but when you do, your heart sinks down to your stomach. Something sick and nauseating flows under your skin.

It’s simply a letter, accepting an unspecified plan. Bring what I ask for, it says, and I will fight at your side. What’s most important, though - what’s sickeningly relevant - is not the contents, but rather, the person it’s from.

In a neat, cursive scrawl at the bottom of the page is the undeniable signature of Lord Cazador Szarr.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #mywriting

112 notes · View notes