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ja3hwa · 1 month

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♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 ♡

【Synopsis】 : The boys were going to teach you a simple game of pool. Nothing more, nothing less... right?

『Word count』 : 3.9k

-> Genre: Smut. Dark Romance. Supernatural.

Pairing: Vampire!WooSanSang x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Flirting. Dirty talk. Slight innocent reader. Foursome. Lowkey free use. Dub-con ish, but the reader is into it. Everything is just new for her. Mxm. Manhandling. Blood drinking, biting. Wounds. Whimper kink? Swearing. Clit play. Yeosang fucks her without really asking but the reader is into it. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms. Pet names including [Doll, Baby, Pet, Sir, Darling. Pretty thing] Use of the word slut. I shit on religion for a second, so I’m sorry if anyone is religious.

Note: Fun fact I found out that pool tables were invented back in 1470, so I felt like I had to add it aha.

Also hi I'm uploaded two fic in one night. I know crazy right?! Well, I've been really wanting to just post all my work. i got in the drafts, but im pacing myself, hehe. So this is just a little ... gift? Idk ahah i just could help, but post two tonight. Enjoy ♡♡

"Oh, my body, I don't wanna stop until the break of dawn"

Masterlist | Nav | Chapter Three | Series List | Buy Me A Ko-fi

When you finally woke, you noticed Seonghwa had left the bed. There was a small note on the bedside table with a little heart next to your name written in black ink. You smiled sleepily, stretching slowly in the spacious bed. You’ve never had a better sleep in years, if not ever. Your small single bed that was tattered and moulding was all you’d ever known, and now you had a bed fit for a king. It was almost strange, bittersweet in a way. You felt like you were always supposed to end up here. With them. Like fate was etched in stone way before you were even of age. You had wondered if they felt the same way, as you made your way through the halls once again. It became quite easy to move around the manor now that you’ve explored a bit. You had slipped on a tunic and pants of various shades of purple and black that were sitting on the end of your bed.

“I see you’ve made yourself quite at home, pet.” You shivered at the sound of Yeosang's velvet voice. Glancing above, you see him leaning on the railing of the mezzanine, a sly smirk on his delicate features.

“She’s like a curious kitty isn’t she.” Another voice caught your attention looking towards the doorway of the billiard room you see a feline feature man. San... His dark hair and sharp yellow glowing eyes make your heart thump in anticipation. Strange? you thought. They were all vampires as far as you knew, so why were his eyes such a deep sunset yellow?

“We got to get that staring problem under control, Darling.” You jumped hearing the high-pitched man, Wooyoung right behind you, whispering in your ear.

“I w-was not staring.” You shake your head, turning around to see all three men now standing around the pool table. San had picked up a pool stick, putting some blue chalk to dab on the end of the said stick. You watched as all three of them took a pool cue and chalked them up, curious at what they might be up to. You had never seen a pool table up close, let alone see anyone play before. You’ve only ever read about it in fancy books or heard it from the richer folk in the village. “A-are you going to play a game?”

Your words sounded flinching like you were some peasant girl asking the higher for a slice of knowledge. But in truth weren’t you just that? “We are most definitely going to be playing a game Darlin’ and you are going to be the price.”

Wooyoung’s words made you gulp, standing there awkwardly playing with the hem of your tunic. San walked over to you while Yeosang set up the balls in the triangle. San’s fingers grazed your chin before lifting your face to look at him. His smile was softer this time, unlike how it was border-lining lust prior. “Don’t worry, Pretty thing. We won’t go too hard on you. Well, Yeosang might, if you’re not too careful.”

You visibly gulp feeling a tingle in your tummy. What could he possibly be insinuating? Your mind was racing, thinking of all the possibilities, slightly thanking Jongho was not here to read your lusting thoughts. You were about to say something, but then Wooyoung came up behind San, pushing him aside so he could give you a pool cue. “I don’t know how to p-play.”

“It’s okay, darling. We will teach you.” Wooyoung’s chippy voice eased your heart slightly. And as you watched Wooyoung start to bicker with Yeosang, who would start the game. You couldn’t help but giggle. For Monsters, they sure act like teenagers. Immature and… youthful.

“Okay okay, Woo, get over here. Let Sangie Break.” The feline yelled over all the bickering. The nicknames he gave the other males made your heart flutter. In the next few minutes, the three vampires took their turn, trying to get a ball in the hole. Until finally, San got a stripe in making Wooyoung whine.

“How do you always manage to score first.” Wooyoung was disappointed about his lover winning, shifting his weight around as he stomped over to the bar that was sitting across a billiard table. He grabbed out four short glasses and began pouring an amber-coloured liquor in each one. You could hear mumbles around you, most likely San and Yeosang badgering about something again, but you couldn’t focus on them. Only looking straight at the shorter male, curiously watching him take a shot of the liquid before taking the other full glass and shotting it.

“Pet did you hear anything we said?” Yeosang's presence behind you caught your attention, noting the way his shoulder bumped into you lightly. You shook your head with a little sorry before taking a breath, suddenly blurting out.

“I didn’t think vampires could eat or drink human food.”

The situation reminded you about how you shared a meal with all of them a night ago. You were so out of it, and floating in your mind, you didn’t really take notice that they were, in fact, consuming food. Cooked cow, vegetables, rich sauces, and wines. It was always written in history books and the words of your church that no hellspawn beasts like night crawlers were able to consume and dine on earthy foods. Only craving and needing the taste of blood to sustain themselves.

San had to try very hard not to laugh at your innocence. Wooyoung had a cheeky smirk on his face, placing the glass on the brim of the pool table, speaking up on your question. “Oh, we do not have to eat or drink to stay alive if that’s what you’re asking. And drinking does nothing for us unless we drink an entire Alehouse. But it does take the edge off for us a little bit.” He downed his drink like he did before, some of the alcohol dripping down his chin. San, within seconds, moved from one end of the table to where Wooyoung stood. His speed created a little wind pocket that blew against your face, making you shiver. San’s hand cupped Wooyoung’s chin, drawing his face upwards. San then opened his mouth, letting his freakishly long tongue slide out onto the younger's neck, licking up the liquor he had spilt.

You gulp, looking away to see Yeosang staring at you intensely with a smirk. He bit his lip before chuckling “God I wished I could read minds. I bet you’re thinking about the filthiest things right now.” He moved to stand in front of you, making you take a step back until you were trapped against the pool table and his broad body. “Such a cute little pet, with such a dirty little mind.”

“W-Wha...I…” You didn’t know what to say cause in truth you couldn’t help but think vulgarly around them. They were all so attractive, and it was like some kind of drug being near them. You looked back to San and Wooyoung, seeing San now had his tongue down the other man's throat, and you couldn’t help but whine. What you didn’t realize was that from looking away from Yeosang, you bared your neck to him, making him growl. “You should never show off your neck to vampires unless you want them to bite you, baby.”

Your eyes widened at his words. But you couldn’t react fast enough. It was like your body became a ragdoll as he moved you with the speed of light. Your back hit the table with a thud, legs spread with Yeosang’s body in between them and his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers squeezed his shoulders as you felt his sharp fangs run along your hot skin. “S-Sangie…”

“Hmm using my nickname is only gonna make me want to fuck you, pet.” his nose brushed down your main vein, letting him breathe in your scent sharply. You were the sweetest thing he had ever smelt.

“Sangie.” You repeated suddenly, reaching tighter for Yeosang’s large shoulders, lacing the fabric of his dress shirt in your fingers. The vampire just chuckled, kissing along your hot skin. You wiggled against him, feeling his crotch twitch beneath the layers of cloth that separated you both. “Please.”

“Ooo, She begs. My favourite.” Yeosang’s fangs grazed your neck, making your heart thump harder. You felt like your whole body was on fire, and every nerve was being consumed with nothing but Yeosang. His scent, his dark deep chuckles. The way his fingers glide along your body.

Him.

While his hands played with the fabric on your clothing. You turned your head to look back at where Wooyoung and San were, but the in a blink of an eye, they vanished.

“Don’t get this party started without us.” San’s voice frightened you as he was suddenly at the other end of the table, leaning over to give your forehead a light little kiss. Wooyoung, however, was now standing next to Yeosang, pushing your right leg opened wider so both men could stand in between them. “I can smell her from over there.”

“I know, our little slut is getting nice and wet from us teasing her.” Yeosang spat out such a foul name at you but it only made you whimper more. No way in your wildest dreams would you have ever suspected your life would end up with being sprawled out on a pool table with three Vampire, kiss and lick parts of your body that weren’t covered by your clothing.

Sinful. Hellborn. A daughter of Lilith. Words from your mother came flooding in your mind like little flashes of a candle flame blowing in the wind. Maybe she was right. Maybe she saw your future before you even knew it.

“F-fuck I need a taste,” Wooyoung whined, tugging at your pants, but what you didn’t expect was him to lift up the loose pant leg, exposing your right thigh. Yeosang pulled up your tunic, drawing his tongue out onto your hot skin. And finally, San, the last one, lifted your wrist to his nose, inhaling sharply before opening his mouth to suck on the soft flesh.

“I’d take a deep breath If I was you, pet,” Yeosang grunted with a sly smirk, making you let out a large gasp. You felt all three of them sink their teeth into you in a sudden snap, almost synchronised. The crunch of broken skin echoed in the room before ringing in your ears. You could feel their addictive vampiric venom pouring into your veins while they emptied you of blood. The euphoric feeling of being drained was indescribable. Like floating on a cloud, feeling the soft cotton tickle your body, leaving your toes and fingertips to tingle.

“F-ffuck. Argh.” Was all you could mutter out before rolling your eyes back again. You could feel Yeosang’s deep chuckle against your tummy, feeling like the sound almost came from inside you. And without letting his fangs slip, he drew his hand to your covered core. Pressing sharply on your sensitive button through the loose fabric. This made you let out another gasp, calling for Yeosang. “S-Sangie pleasee.”

San retracted his fangs from your wrist before whining, “Hey, I want to hear you cry my name out. Can you do that for me, pretty?” The vampire kissed along your arm until he got to your neck. You nodded while he tilted your head to the side, exposing your jugular. “such a good little doll. Now I want you to scream.”

And with that, he sunk his teeth into the crease of your shoulder and neck, making you let out a loud, painfully lustful cry. “FUCK SAN!!!”

Wooyoung and Yeosang finally pulled away after a few more moments, licking their lips of your blood. Yeosang had a deep growl rumble in his chest as he ran his thumb over the puncture wound, smearing the crimson liquid on your red irritated flesh. Wooyoung did the same but drew a heart with it instead making himself giggle in approval. “Fuck if we didn’t want to keep you alive pet. We would have drunk you dry.”

Yeosang’s empty threat would have scared anyone, but for some reason, it only enticed you more. Pulling your shaky legs up, you placed your bare feet on the edge of the pool table before spreading your legs wide. The grumpy vampire seemed to get the hint, taking his long nail he ripped the fabric right in between your thighs, making a slit-like opening for him and Wooyoung to get a perfect view of your soaking cunt. “Now, why don’t you look at that.”

Yeosang growls, sliding a finger along your wet lips. Your whole body shivers, feeling yourself becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. This shock wave made San sit up suddenly, pulling away from your shoulder, gasping for air as he let out the deepest, most feral-like groan you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, She tastes so good when you do that. I need one of you to fuck her right now so I can taste that again” His blood-stained lips kissed along your shoulder smearing all the red crimson liquid over your soft skin. His kisses your feverish as if he had become drunk off you alone. The few buttons that were holding your shirt closed were now being opened by the feline male, slowly revealing your hidden flesh.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Wooyoung protested, shaking his belt in a manner of desperation, but Yeosang quickly scoffed, snaking his belt out of the hoops of his pants in one swift motion before dropping it. “I’d like to see you fucking try. This pussy is mine.” Yeosang’s deep venomous growl made the younger vampire cower slightly, giving him a slight pout.

“Why do you get to go first.” From your angle, you could have sworn you saw Wooyoung stomp his feet, making you giggle lightly, catching the attention of all three of the men around you. Yeosang kisses your tummy lightly, pulling your focus to him alone, his hands gripping your hips and body snuggling tightly against your hot core.

“What’s so funny, pet? Finding enjoyment over us fighting over you?” Yeosang’s lips travelled up your navel as he kissed along your newly exposed skin since San had now successfully unbuttoned your top, revealing your perky, tight nipples on your plump and soft breasts.

“Yes sir…” you whispered, closing your eyes as you revelled in the feeling of his tongue sliding along your body.

“Fuck, she’s so good isn't she.” San covered his mouth with his hand, sighing at how obedient you had become. Reaching for your breast he squeezed your plump flesh together, pinching your nipples between his pointer and thumb. You choked out a whine as he rolled the pad of his finger over your sensitive bud, almost completely distracting you from the vampire between your legs.

“Come on, Sangie, hurry up. I want to be inside her so badly.” Wooyoung has hopped up onto the end of the pool table leaning on his hand behind his soft frame. His hand palming his covered crotch, panting slightly as he watched San and Yeosang ravish you. Your hazy eyes looked back to see San standing straight and tall behind you. Giving you a sweet smile that was hiding a sinister lust underneath.

Before you could say anything about what Wooyoung had said, you felt Yeosang’s thick cock head breached your tight pussy. “Oh FUck!” You bucked your hips, helping him slide into you deeply inch by inch until he bottomed you out. He was definitely girthier than Seonghwa, making you feel like the wind was being knocked right out of you.

“Shhit. This is the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. Are you sure Seonghwa fucked you pet?” Yeosang began to ramble, pulling you down more so your ass was almost off the table. Sangie put his one hand under your thigh and hip, holding you still so he could slowly start thrusting into you, sharply and greatly. “So tight, so warm. Such a good little pet. You like being fucked baby? Bet you’d take all of us in one go if we’d asked.”

“Oh my god! Yes!!! please, Sangie.” You yelped at the top of your lungs just from the pure idea of having all eight of them. Pleasing them all. Dotting on them. You needed them just as much as they needed you. Yeosang gripped your shirt that hung open on the top and pulled you up until your face was inches from his and his lips, almost touching your own.

“It’s master, my sweet little slut.” He yanked you off the pool table, pulling out for a moment so he could help you walk to the couch and even though his movements were rough, his grip was gentle, holding you closely in a way. Lovingly. “Come on baby, bend over the couch for me.”

He gave your ass a squeeze before letting you fall on your knees on the plush cushions. The couch was facing away from the pool table, so when you leaned over the top of it, you could get a perfect view of the other two vampires. “Okay, new game.” Yeosang knelt behind you, holding your hips, rubbing his palm against your skin. “Whoever gets a ball in first gets to take over and fuck our precious baby here. Deal?”

You had to laugh as San and Wooyoung scrambled around to grab their own pool stick. Your smile was bright as you were about to say some cheeky remark but you slowly felt Yeosang enter your soaked pussy from behind making you only let out a shaky whimper. His hands gripped tightly on your hips as your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yeosang chuckled as he thrusted into your cunt in shallow motions. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up so your body was at an odd angle, but you couldn’t care less. “Last time I checked I’m not god’s pathetic son.”

Your fingers lased into the couch cushions, gripping onto it for dear life as you felt him slowly hammer into you faster. Your pussy would clench with each thrust making the most beautiful groans and whimpers fall from his lips. The hand that held the back of your neck, snaked around the front to clench tightly, blocking your airway just lightly, sending your brain into a fuzzy mess.

“M-Master….” You cried, collapsing onto the edge of the couch. Your legs are shaking, and your arms are no longer able to hold yourself up anymore. San and Wooyoung were bickering, yelling at one another as they kept trying to get a ball in the hole. That was until San bent down and shot one of his stripes by hitting Wooyoung’s ball before getting it into the end left basket.

Your glassy eyes could see San’s triumph, along with Woo’s high-pitched whine of defeat. The knot in your stomach was tightened with every thrust of Yeosang’s hips but before you could reach your climax he slipped out of your soaked cunt making you hiccup in a loud whine. “F-Ffuckk.”

“It’s okay, pet. Breathe…” You tried to take in a shaky breath as you felt your whole body being manhandled until you were sitting perfectly on someone’s lap. San’s naked lap, to be exact. His hazy smile got you blushing as he leaned forward to kiss your cheek so delicately.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll take good care of you.” San’s cooe made you relax nicely against him as he lined his cock with your abused cunt. You were already so sensitive but somehow you were still craving more. The loud sound of pool balls whacking together got you startled but San stroked your cheek with his thumb slightly as he pulled your face towards his with his fingers. “Focus on me, baby. I want to see you come apart on my cock okay. No closing those pretty eyes."

You nodded with a short whimper followed by a simple yes that was so quiet you’re surprised San heard it. But then you remember that you weren’t fucking a normal man, but a beast in human form. A blood-sucking night-crawling beast that could kill you with his bare hands at any time. Your pussy clenched around his lengthy, and girthy cock making him groan. He slowly lifted your plump thighs up helping you gather a rhythm with your hips so you could ride him slowly. “S-sannie. Oh g-god please.”

“Such a good girl. Come on. Fuck you’re so tight...” You focused on his knitted brows and slightly parted mouth, seeing he was enjoying this just as much as you were. Your hips got faster as San started to buck upwards to match your movements. Your whole body was feeling like it was on fire, sensing you were close. He pushed your body up so he could help thrust deeper inside you. This left your tits to be right in his face, making him groan as he latched onto your plump flesh and sucked. Your breasts would be completely covered in hickeys by the time San was down them. And as his mouth traveled to the top of your breast you clenched around him, sucking him deeper into your tight cunt. He lost himself in your scent, the way you squeezed him and the sound of your pretty moans. He needed more, just another taste. He needed to taste the flavour of you when you came.

“S-San I’m gonna cum.” You gasped, tangling your fingers threw his hair.

“Come for me, baby. Be a good little human for me and cream on my cock.” He licked your skin before biting down, sinking his fangs into the top of your breast, jackhammering you at an inhuman pace. You screamed so loud that the whole manor would have heard, coming so much around Sans hard cock. You were it grew bigger inside you as your clenched harder, feeling him drink his fill of your red hot liquid.

“San.” A male voice called out but your head was too dizzy, feeling San continue his assault on your cunt and teeth in your flesh. “SAN!!” The voice got loud but your eyes began to droop feeling a wave of sleep erode through your body. You heard San lewdly growl animalisticly against you, still drinking your blood as his cock stilled tightly in you, letting him come deep inside you.

The voice before screamed again, but your eyes closed, and darkness took over before you could see or hear anything else.

—

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yumeka-sxf · 9 months

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Seems like this chapter just about wrapped up the Mole Hunt arc. I decided to analyze a bit more than I usually do with my chapter reviews since there was a lot to talk about on the Twiyor front!

When Fiona questioned Twilight about not killing Yuri, he gave his official "for the mission" reason, but slipped up by calling Yor "Yor-san" instead of "Yor Briar." This made it obvious to Fiona (who already knows about him softening) that he's trying desperately hard to cover up those feelings. Even though this would have been a good opportunity for her to imply that she's a better fit for the wife role, she doesn't even try because she knows Twilight would defend "Yor-san" in every subtle way he could.

When he gets home and finds out that Yor doesn't actually have gripes with him, he's relieved of that last load of stress and is finally able to relax, causing him to collapse (similar to the very first chapter when he collapsed after Anya passed the Eden entrance exam). After he realizes how utterly exhausted he is, he can't help but ask Yor to help out with his housework.

Her reply is what really makes everything sink in for him - despite all his attempts to be a flawless spy, she doesn't want him to be that way. She's happy when she can be useful to him and thinks it's bad if he pushes himself to be perfect all the time.

And yet, that's exactly what he has to be in order to survive as a spy. The fact that he had to ask someone for help with simple housework, plus someone telling him that he doesn't have to be perfect, made him recall the feeling he had when he looked into Wheeler's eyes...that he lives in a world where you have to be perfect in order to survive, and having any kind of weakness just won't due.

While Twilight continues to be clueless about Fiona's feelings for him among other things, what he does realize at the end of this arc is his own feelings - that he does have a weakness. He's beginning to understand more than ever that a spy can't afford to be anything but perfect. And yet, his refusal to kill Yuri, which is a result of him caring about Yor (even though he gave Fiona his usual "for the mission" reason, she saw right through it) is conflicting him even more.

I also have to point out how considerate Yor was of Loid's exhaustion - she completely pushed Yuri away, even after noticing he was injured. She didn't even invite him to stay and have tea with them!

What Twilight was about to say to Yor (in his mind) before Yuri interrupted is debatable, but going by his previous line of thought, it was probably something bittersweet like "which is why...once Operation Strix is over, I'll have to leave the Forgers" or possibly something more immediate, where he now realizes how compromised he truly is and so might reconsider the stipulations of Operation Strix even before it's over. Though I think it's more of the former since his thoughts in the shower in the next scene make it seem like he's not ready to do anything drastic yet, but the idea is still gnawing at him.

Fiona had noticed his leaking emotions way back when she was first introduced, but this is the first time Twilight himself is realizing it and not denying it. Whether anything major will change in his actions from now on is yet to be seen. Will there be another aftermath chapter or two with Twilight still being jostled by this realization? Or will things go back to normal now and he'll brush those feelings aside for another day? It seems like Yuri has been totally thrown off the scent, so his identity should be safe for the time being. Will Anya get to read his mind the next morning and finally find out everything that happened? The next new chapter won't be out for another 4 weeks, so brace yourself for a grueling wait!

#spy x family #spy family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #twiyor #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

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sttoru · 5 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒.

‘malaysia, ah. . . yeah, malaysia —kuantan would be nice.’

☀︎｜nanami kento x female reader. fluff (or is it?) + heavy angst. jjk spoilers (season 2, episode 18) / chapter 120. you’re married. mentions of blood. sad / bittersweet ending. major character death. don’t show your friends who stan nanami this, they might jump from a building <3

sunny weather with a gentle breeze and the sounds of the crashing waves eventually landing ashore. the peace and quiet that most long for.

“kento, you’ve been reading for a while now.”

ah, and the voice of his lovely wife whom he cherishes most. a perfect setting — a safe space for someone who doesn’t know what right or wrong is anymore. for someone who’s tired of the way the world is.

time seems frozen when you spend it with the one you love most. and when you spend it somewhere you wish to actually be.

kento looks up from his book, eyes meeting the alluring clear stretch of ocean and the blue sky that held no clouds. his gaze then falls back down on the page he had last read — or, perhaps it was the previous page that he had been reading. or maybe the one before that. or perhaps he hadn’t even started the story.

he doesn’t know anymore. the pile of books that laid next to the rocking chair were all but a beautiful mystery. he had opened them, read them over and over, yet not a single word had been remembered.

kento doesn’t remember.

“kento?” your voice calls out once more. the sorcerer tilts his head back to look up at the one calling. there you were, standing next to him, hands on his shoulders with a gentle smile on your face.

you looked angelic. you looked like all he wanted. all he needed — a perfect complete picture.

kento hums and simply nods in response before looking down at the unknown novel in his hands, “yes, sorry, darling. i got a bit too caught up in the book.”

typical him.

a calming sound of laughter leaves your lips and kento instantly relaxes his shoulders — which he didn’t even know were tense in the first place. as if on cue, your fingers move to massage the muscles.

kento closes his eyes and sighs. he doesn’t bother putting a bookmark between the pages before closing the hardback. not like he needs it if he couldn’t even recall what he had skimmed through.

his eyes move under his eyelids — almost like they’re searching for something under the darkness of the curtains that were casted. the only thing he was focusing on right now were the noises on the beach and your sweet voice.

kento furrows his brows; the sounds of the crashing waves had soon overwhelmed the soft sound of your voice. a moment of peace was disturbed by the loud waves—waves that sounded more aggressive than gentle like they were seconds ago.

waves that sounded like continuous slashes.

a droplet of something warm falls on his skin and his eyes flutter open.

the sea was still there. the beach was still there. the house he had bought was still there. but most importantly, you were still there. though, there was an undeniable change in the atmosphere.

“you’re having a nosebleed.”

your worried comment makes kento stare up at you in confusion. a nosebleed? the pad of his thumb grazes over his upper lip. and there it was; the crimson stain slowly flowing down his finger, “oh.”

kento remembers. he remembers everything clearly. the sudden calmness in his surroundings that were once hectic; why he couldn’t recall what he had read; why the sounds of the waves had changed into something more ominous as the moments passed.

the realisation dawns upon him — and it hit hard.

“i’m tired. i really am tired.” the sorcerer mutters at last. his body was exhausted. his eyes were droopy. things were beginning to fade. the realisation was beginning to kick in. the effects of the hallucinations was starting to wear off.

he gazes at you one more time. his weak hand reaches out to yours and he interlocks your fingers. it pained him to see your eyes filled with sorrow and worry. even if you were but a fraction of his imagination.

maybe that’s how you actually are sitting on the couch in your shared home. maybe you are waiting on him to come back to you.

kento wouldn’t blame you if you did. he did promise that he’d be back, as did he do every other day. and he did come back as promised each time.

well, except for today.

“i didn’t know you were here.” the blonde sorcerer’s hoarse voice calls out once his peaceful surroundings had disappeared into thin air.

malaysia, kuantan — the beach — you. all but a nice dream. perhaps an alternative reality which he wished he could be in right this moment.

“yup. the whole time.”

kento looks down at the familiar face. the blue-haired executioner who was on the brink of finishing his lifetime once and for all.

one last sigh leaves kento’s lips; his life flashing before his eyes. both his regrets and satisfactions—his achievements and hopes.

and lastly, the moment of peace he had experienced before his time was over. you had helped him until the very end — giving him the peace he much needed during his suffering. a dream in the form of all he wished to have; of you.

the dream was a sweet replica of what could have been. but unfortunately, human dreams must always come to an end — and reality is what must be faced once they do.

that’s the way it is.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fic #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk spoilers

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twstgarden · 5 months

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❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲'𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀? ❞

━ diasomnia (malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, silver, sebek zigvolt) x reader (separated) ━ true love's kiss? now, where will you or the diasomnia boys get that? (f/n means first name)

requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: Hi 🩵 I saw your requests are open 😍 I was hoping if I can request a true love kiss scenario with the four diasomnia dorm members? If they get kisses awake or the diasomnia men do is your choice florist's note: hello, dearie. i went for both, hope you enjoyed. thank you for the request.

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

━ malleus draconia ━

being struck by a curse was already frightening enough on its own but knowing that the cure is something deemed as impossible – which is a true love’s kiss – you knew you were doomed for life. from what you knew, the curse given to you was you’d fall into a sleep-like death the moment you reach a certain age in adulthood. ever since then, you had no hope that you’ll ever live past that age.

your beloved remained unaware of this curse, however. it’s not like you didn’t want him to know, it’s just that he never asked, but then again, who would casually ask someone if they have been cursed?

you can imagine the fear and worry showing in his eyes the moment you lost your consciousness. the two knights immediately got to your aid while he rushed to you and assessed your physical being, to see if you were alright. you seem to be asleep and yet your heart was barely beating.

it took a lot to keep his composure, but lilia knew all too well that malleus was close to losing his mind any moment now. the older fae assisted the two knights by carrying you to a bed, to ensure you rest properly before they call for a magic doctor to check on your health.

…

“i don’t see any health issues… however, there is a trace of a powerful spell in their being similar to that of a curse,” spoke the doctor as they looked up to see the faces of the four diasomnia members. malleus’ eyes widened at the revelation as he replied, “a curse? she never told me she had one…”

the doctor sighed and proceeded to share the diagnosis with them in a sad manner, “her curse seemed to have something similar to death, but seeing as she looks as if she is asleep, we can deduce what she was struck with…”

the doctor did not need to continue talking as he knew that the four immediately knew what the curse was and its cure. lilia thanked the doctor for his help as malleus knelt on the floor right beside your sleeping corpse, holding your hand and sensing how cold it was slowly becoming, and yet your face showed no signs of death.

“such curse has a cure that we deem impossible, malleus…” spoke lilia gently, trying to console the young prince after losing his loved one. malleus tried not to have a breakdown, holding your limping hand tighter as he caressed your cheek, “true love’s kiss… is there really such thing?”

“like i said, an impossible cure…” replied lilia, but he was also determined to know if such thing was true, “…but we can try.”

malleus looked at you for a moment, brushing his thumb over your cheek as silver and sebek watched. a moment passed and he decided to lean close, placing his lips on yours for a bittersweet kiss before pulling away with a sad smile. there was a glint of hope in his eyes, hoping that he was indeed your one true love and that you would wake up, but he also wondered to himself that what if it was not him? what if you did not love him the way he loves you?

all those doubt washed away the moment your eyes fluttered open a bit, and a huge smile was seen on malleus’ face whilst lilia, silver, and sebek let out a sigh of relief. your beloved immediately wrapped his arms around you the moment your eyes were wide open and gazing up at the ceiling, a gasp of surprise left your lips once he hugged you close.

“i’m… alive?” you spoke in a rather surprised tone as you knew you would not survive the curse, and yet here you are in the arms of the man you love the most. malleus placed another kiss on your forehead before giving you a disappointed expression, “why did you not disclose the details of your curse to me? if i had known, i would have done something sooner…” a sigh then escaped his lips, “but… i’m glad you’re awake now.” his embrace tightened as he buried his face into your hair, taking a whiff of your scent to comfort himself as the fear of losing you grew even stronger, “please don’t ever leave me like that.”

━ lilia vanrouge ━

you were done with your lessons for the day and you felt ecstatic to return to your dorm to see your dearly beloved once more. with your books in hand, you walked towards your dormitory’s mirror with a hop on your step, humming a soft tune as you passed by the mirror and walked down the entrance of diasomnia.

upon arrival, you saw malleus and silver on the lounge, drinking what seemed to be black coffee while sebek was by the stairs with a displeased expression, almost as if he was jealous of silver spending some quality time with their master by drinking the same beverage.

you chuckled at sebek’s expression and approached him by the stairs, “you okay?”

sebek huffed in response, “silver is drinking black coffee with the young master! if only i could drink the same beverage, but i cannot stand the taste and prefer it with milk!” you tried not to laugh as you merely smiled, “right, there’s nothing wrong with wanting milk in your coffee, seb.”

you then patted his shoulder and went upstairs, heading to lilia’s room to check if he was there, and indeed he was. you were greeted by a messy sight with some trinkets on the floor and unorganized items on his desk – you knew he had terrible cleaning skills, but you were not expecting this.

and there he was, asleep on his comfy bed as the star that settled atop his bed glowed a little. you sighed and closed the door, approaching your sleeping beloved and taking a seat on the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath as his eyes remained closed, his eyelashes were long and luscious, and his lips were parted.

you caressed his cheek and gently fixed his bangs before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. as you were about to stand up, you felt a hand grasp your own and you turned your head to see your beloved awake with a smile, pulling you down and placing a kiss on your lips.

“looks like i was woken up by true love’s kiss~”

you rolled your eyes at his antics and chuckled before kissing his forehead, “then it looks like i’m your true love, old man.”

━ silver ━

you were exhausted.

your energy was spent after your physical education lessons. you were instructed by coach vargas to run a hundred laps before proceeding with flying lessons, which exhausted the life out of you. with no energy left to spend, you entered the lounge of your dorm and dropped your bag on the floor before plopping yourself onto the couch, not caring about anything else other than sleep.

your eyes went shut as sleep overtook your tired figure. hours have passed, but you had not known how long you were asleep. you were awoken by the feeling of something soft and sweet on your lips, but it unfortunately lasted for a short while, which caused you to flutter your eyes open.

“mm…?”

your eyes fluttered open and the first thing you see is your boyfriend’s slightly surprised expression upon seeing you awake, and that’s when you realised, he kissed you. you smiled groggily at him and ruffled his hair before sitting up, “you woke me up with your true love’s kiss~ hehe...”

silver smiled at your remark and kissed your forehead, “you should rest in your room. i already brought your bag upstairs and fixed the bed for you.”

━ sebek zigvolt ━

sebek had unfortunately fallen ill and had been stubborn the whole time. he refused to take his medicine, saying he did not need it. he refused to rest as he did not want to acknowledge that he had a cold, and went as far as to say that his immune system was not so weak that he’d get sick so easily.

silver sighed at his stubbornness and looked at you for a moment. you gave him a quick glance before approaching sebek and pulling on his arm, “seb, you need to rest.”

“rest? absolutely not, i’m fine! don’t let what the doctor said discourage you! i have no cold,” argued the half-fae as he continued on carrying eight chairs to the mirror chamber all at once. silver opted to help as he carried some chairs too, but sebek insisted he’d do it by himself.

‘how stubborn…’ you thought to yourself as you crossed your arms and waited for him to finish his task. you knew there was no way he would stop now.

once he was done with his task, you dragged him back to the dormitory and made him sit on the couch with a stern expression, “sit.”

“but–!”

“no buts. sit down.” you commanded as you grabbed his medicine, causing him to grumble as he stayed put on the couch, allowing you to nurse him. as you gave him his medicine, he took it without another word before thanking you softly.

after taking his prescribed medication, you sighed and sat down next to him, ruffling his hair with a small smile as you spoke gently this time, “don’t be so stubborn next time… take care of yourself. you’re sick.”

“i can handle a cold…”

“sebek.”

you were always surprised by how much your actions and words affected him. normally, he would never dare to listen and obey a human’s commands, but with you, he does.

“fine… besides, i might be a nuisance to the master if i were to be sick while i stood guard by his side!”

ah, there he is.

you chuckled at his worry over his duties towards malleus. you then smiled and gave him a kiss on his forehead, “here. a true love’s kiss to make you feel better~”

his cheeks immediately went red as he exclaimed, “f/n!!!”

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multifandomgirl08 · 4 months

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Ghost of Bittersweet Memories [MVS/BMS]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship), Charles Leclerc x Mother!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day before the next F1 season starts. You end up talking with Charles about a woman that he met at an FIA event while he was visiting for the day.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: To those of you who are reading this for the scene in the Bittersweet Series. It's just the first scene, not the whole chapter.

Words: 2.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist Bittersweet Masterlist

Max had been getting phone calls the last few days from some of the other drivers on the grid trying to pull him out of the house to go to dinner and he wasn’t budging. He didn’t want to leave you alone in the house.

So, a few of the drivers; Lando, Charles, and Lewis said that they would stop by to visit for a bit. Max had also invited Carlos, Pierre, and Daniel but you weren’t sure if they would end up coming.

“Hello Y/N.” You heard Charles say as you stood at the sink.

He had been outside with Lando and Max talking about what they did over the holidays. Lewis was going to come by later with food insisting that you not cook anything.

“Hey,” You quickly wiped your hands on a towel before you heard a chair being pulled out. You looked up to see Charles's shoulders curled in slightly. “What’s going on Charles?”

“Nothing,” he said leaning back in his chair. “I need your advice as a woman, who understands how all of this works.” Charles made a vague gesture to the house.

“Okay?” You questioned back at him. You were a little surprised that Charles was coming to you with this. He could have either gone to Lily or even Sebastian’s wife with his question.

He fidgeted in his seat a little before sighing. “So, you know how there was that FIA Gala that was at the end of the season?” He asked and you quickly nodded. You hadn’t been feeling up to going because of Nikita. Max had tried to get out of it as well but couldn’t because of the award that he would be presenting at the end of the night.

“I met someone there. And I’m pretty sure that I missed my opportunity to hear from her again.” This was interesting. You had never known Charles to pay some unknown girl this much attention. He dated often but was quick to break it off when it felt like things were getting too serious.

“Why do you think that you’re never going to hear from her again?” You asked.

“She said that it would be her first and last time there.”

You didn’t know what to make of this. You haven’t been at the gala or seen Charles with this woman so you really couldn’t say much to him. You didn’t want to assume that it was a passing infatuation that Charles had with this mysterious woman.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again Charles, they tend to always invite the same people to those galas.” Going to one of those galas was how you met Max and you started dating a few months later. You had been invited by the company that you used to work for as someone’s plus one when you have gone.

“But what if I don’t?” He asked leaning against the marble countertop.

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.” You said, walking over to him and then lightly patting him on the shoulder. As much as you liked Charles, you didn’t want him to get his hopes up when it came to this women.

“You can’t know that.” He said back to you.

He was right, you didn’t know if Charles and this woman were meant to be. However, there had to be something there for Charles to want to see this woman again.

You walked to the refrigerator and opened it getting out a glass bottle of water. You glance past Charles to look at Nikita sleeping in his swing, the mobile above moving every once in a while.

“Maybe not, but did she seem like all of the other women that were at that party?” You asked him.

Charles was just about to answer before you heard the buzzer go off that was for the front gate of the house. You walked over to the iPad that was on the wall and saw Lewis’ car, letting him in.

Just after pressing the button, Nico came into the room holding his iPad in his hands seeing who it was.

"Mama, is Dan here?" He asked.

"Not yet Nico, but you can say hi to Lewis." You watched as Nico made his way over to the couch, putting his iPad up before climbing into it.

"Okay." You heard him mumble over the back of the couch.

In the morning after making Nico breakfast and giving Nikita a bottle, you had told Nico that Daniel would be stopping by for a bit. Nico was so excited to see Daniel given that he had just retired and wouldn’t be back with Red Bull next season. Nico wouldn’t get to spend as much time with the Aussie unless he flew into Monaco.

Daniel had texted you in the morning that he would stop by later but had a few things to take care of before coming over. You texted him back no rush.

“No,” Charles answered. “That’s why I want to see her again.”

“Then have a little faith in how the FIA invites people to parties.”

"I don't know Y/N, I'm not sure if I can." He said tapping his fingers against the marble.

“Think about it this way, are any of the teams changing sponsors?” You asked. Charles was quick to shake his head no.

“Then I’m sure you’ll see her again.” You hoped that Charles wouldn't fight you on this further. As long as the same sponsors were at the event, Charles would get a chance to see this mystery woman again.

Charles thanked you before a knock at the front door interrupted. You said, "Glad I could help," before leaving him to greet Lewis.

You quickly rushed to the door and opened it to see Lewis standing there with a few bags containing food.

"Hey Lewis," You gave him a quick hug.

"Hi, Y/N," He replied before you helped him carry the food into the house and place it on the counter in the kitchen. Nico had made his way off the couch and gave Lewis a half hug before running outside.

While you and Lewis unpacked some of the food he asked about Nikita and what it was like for you with the baby. You loved being a mom, the boys were your world.

The sound of the sliding glass doors had you looking up to see Lando and Max coming back inside with Nico trailing after him. Max greeted Lewis quickly and then insisted that he take over helping you put out food for everyone.

You watched as everyone else made their way into the living room, taking seats on the various couches that looked out into the spacious backyard.

"Is anyone else coming besides Daniel?" You asked Max.

“Pierre said that he would stop by later on, and maybe Carlos but he hasn’t gotten back to me.” You watched as Max started to fill the large salad bowls with greens, washing them in the sink before you started to cut up the vegetables that had been washed earlier.

“Okay, so I’ll have Nico go and set the table for 9 people.” You quickly reached up above the double oven to get a cutting board and then started to cut into all of the vegetables.

You could hear Nico squeal from the living room as Lando lifted him into his lap and started to tickle him before he started to laugh. Max moved behind you, placing his arms around your middle watching Nico interact with everyone.

You could see from just outside the dining room that Nikita was lying down in his little swing. Charles was sitting next to it, trying to get Niki to grip his finger in his little hand.

“Max, he had a strong grip already, no?” Charles asked after Nikita seemed to finally grip the Monégasques driver's finger.

“Yeah pretty strong, Nico was the same.” Max kissed you on the cheek before walking closer to Charles, Nikita seemed to still be asleep for now.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” Lando said to Max with Nico in his arms. “These two and racing,” There was a ring coming from the iPad. Someone else was here.

Max was quick to walk to where the iPad was on the wall to let the person pass the gate. You looked over at Max quickly and saw him mouth “Daniel,” but Nico was too busy being passed over to Lewis to notice.

“One day you will understand Lando. But, it won't be forever.” It did get tough at times, and this year would truly be a test of that. You were at home by yourself with the boys and the help of Sylvie, while Max was working. You could tell that for the next year, it would just be the four of you.

Daniel had walked through the door a few moments later holding a bottle of wine, and a box of desserts in his hands. Nico asked Lewis to put him on the ground before Nico fully sprinted over to Daniel to say hello. Just as Nico reached Daniel, the Aussie had placed the box and the bottle down before embracing the little boy.

"Mini Max," Daniel said just after Nico reached his arms being the first person to greet him. Daniel lifted him in his arms and hugged him tight to his chest.

"Daniel!" Nico yelled. You glance over to Nikita to see him shift in his swing before settling again, grateful that he didn't wake up.

"Did you enjoy your holiday with Mama and Papa?" Daniel asked him. Nico enthusiastically nodded. Nico's chubby cheeks were flushed pink.

Daniel looked up to you and Max, giving both of you a quick "Hello," of acknowledgment and whisking Nico into the living room.

"I always find it interesting that once Nico sees Daniel, it's like he forgets about everyone else," Lando said before pulling out one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

Max gave Lando a shrug not bothering to say why that was. For the first half of the year that Max knew about Nico, Daniel was the only person on the grid who knew about him, making Nico and Daniel very close.

It took another half an hour to get food put out on the table outside, Nico insisted on sitting next to Daniel at the table. Max was sitting at the head of the table while you sat to his left.

Once everyone filled the plates with food, they all broke into little groups of conversation. Sylvie had come outside holding Nikita to tell you that someone was waiting at the front gate. You insisted that Sylvie join in but she was just on her way out to go back home for the day. Max unlocked his phone letting them in, it was Pierre who was fashionably late.

Daniel had asked if he could hold Nikita while Max let Pierre inside. You heard a few words being exchanged in French before Max was back with Pierre who moved to sit beside Lando and Charles.

“I swear, you guys are going to have a little clone army.” Daniel said to you.

“You should not say this Daniel.” Max said sitting back in his seat.

“Why not?” He fired back resting Nikita against his shoulder. “You see this right.” Pointing down at Nikita.

“He looks just like Max, again. You should try for a girl next, see if the Verstappen genes win out again.”

You and Max weren’t in a rush to have more kids right now. Having two was enough for now. Even if you both were open to the idea of more eventually.

“You can’t know if we'll have a girl next.” You spoke up. There was no real way of knowing if the next child you had would be a girl unless you went through a few extra measures. You were more than okay with leaving the gender of your children to chance.

Max shook his head at Daniel before changing the subject. The sounds of forks and knives hitting plates gave off a easy hum in the warm Monaco air.

Lando ended up taking Nikita from Daniel after a while, hinting at the idea of the next baby you had being named after him before Max told him that he would need to get in line as Martin was next on the list. To that, Lando gave a shrug and a, "I see how it is."

The guys stayed for a while longer, Pierre ended up catching you in the kitchen asking if he could have Sylvie's number. You weren't sure if you wanted to expose your lovely nanny to the likes of Pierre after just meeting him. You rebuffed his question and told him to ask her himself the next time that he saw her. You weren't going to get in the middle of this.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081

Bittersweet taglist: @omgsuperstarg, @bite-me-en-la-boca, @itsjustkhaos, @janeholt3, @cixrosie, @taylorslovesswifties13

#mini verstappen series #bittersweet mini series #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #f1 x reader

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levilaughlove · 1 month

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☁️► Heads up : M x m romance, cheating/disloyalty, mentions of emotional abuse, manipulation & gaslighting. Reader is taller than Levi by 3 in. Mentions of mental breakdowns & indecent language & ofc, smut.🗞 > Chapter 1 .

""Is this really how low you think of me?", Is what she asked me, Levi, am I the issue?" Your broken voice explains the situation to your longtime best friend, Levi Ackerman.

"I know I shouldn't have came to her like that..I should've been softer." You continued, only lower this time. "You did what you felt was right." Levi finally says. "How much kinder can you be to that self-absorbed bitch? She's drained all of your energy." He adds, hyperfocusing on your sleep-deprived eyes.

"If I showed you photos of what you looked like before you met her, you'd be astonished." He snarls.

"I know you're upset with her but, she is my wife." You defend. "Your wife or your disease?" You chuckle at his snappy remark.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence until your phone begins to vibrate. The device lights up revealing an incoming call. Levi sighs at the name on screen.

"How fucking convenient..." Levi murmurs. You gaze at him pleadingly & he whisps his hand through the air as a sign to answer it. You pick up the phone & accept the call.

"Hello?" You ask.

A muffled female voice could be heard from the other line. She doesn't sound too happy.

Levi's gray eyes glare at the phone ,then, rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bed. "A-alright, (f/n), I'll be home soon. Bye-bye." You quickly end the call.

"What did it say?" Levi asks unenthusiastically. "It? Levi, I know you don't like her but, please..." "I don't care, that's how she treats you, what makes her any better?" He quickly adds. You couldn't argue that.

Levi stares at you with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. "Before you think about going off anywhere, at least eat. She can wait 30 minutes." He says, arising from the bed & leaving the room. You follow quickly behind.

"I've got lots of options, mozzy sticks, mac & cheese, I can make you an egg & bacon sandwich.." He continues. "Egg & bacon sounds nice..." You accept shyly. Levi hums & begins to get the items.

While you waited, you began to think. You were so grateful that Levi still takes care of you, even after all these years. You reminisce on your favorite memory of him. It was bittersweet ,but the love & care you had for one another was evident. You were 4, Levi was 7 & he was moving far from your shared hometown. You were his closest friend & he was yours. On the bridge could be seen young you clinging onto Levi tightly with tears in your innocent eyes. Levi tried to keep a stone face even then but couldn't help how his heart felt.

" I'll be back, this isn't forever...pea. Stop crying.." Levi's voice shakes and he hold yours small body, hesitant to let go. "Why...please stay, I need you here.." Your tears kept flowing down your full cheeks, eyes loosely closed. A woman's voice called for Levi to hurry up. "I gotta go now, kay'?" Levi quickly wipes his tears, giving another attempt at a stone face. "Bye." "Goodbye, pea."

Just the thought of it makes you choked up but it doesn't just have a sad tinge anymore, but an innocent, admirable one. You wonder if Levi remembers that.

"Earth to M/n." Levi says loudly. "Hm? Yeah..." You look down to see Levi had finished making the food. Levi looks concerned for a second before returning back to his ordinary expression. You ended up staying much longer than anticipated. You knew your wife would raise hell once you were home.

"Fuck, it's been 2 hours..." You exclaimed worriedly. "If anything goes down, you could always come to me." Levi says trying to relax you.

You give him a thankful gaze before heading to the front door. Looking back once, you wave to Levi, which he nods to.

You cautiously open the front door to your house.

Your wife is sat on the couch, already meeting eyes with you. She looks furious. "I called you at 2:00 & you're only just getting home at 4!?" She screams then bolts over to you, trying to force intimidation. "Who are you fucking, huh?" She screams again.

"I was at a friend's...(f/n)." You slightly dismiss her and wander off to your shared bedroom, undressing yourself as she follows closely behind.

"So why the fuck couldn't you say so? You need to respect me more! Do you know that at any moment I could fuck you over!? WHO DO YOU THINK THEY'LL BELIEVE?! Me!" She lashes out snatching your phone from your hand, shattering it onto the wooden floor below.

You went into a state of shock, your eyes hyperfocused on her enraged person, everything that wasn't here seemed to look like static. You began to get dizzy. You held your head as you almost lost your footing. Levi, you need Levi. You can't breathe.

You shove past her, she falls to the ground forcefully. You just want to go. You need comfort, why is she like this? This wasn't who she was when you first met her! The rain is heavy outside as you push past the front door and onto the sidewalk, cars rush past you, adding to your anxiety. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier. It's hard to see due to the rain, you're uncomfortable & soaked. The rain wasn't the only thing dampening your face, but your heavy, warm tears.

Finally, the familiar door number 255 came into sight. You banged as hard as you could on the door. Crashes of lightning roar through the sky.

Levi opens the door & your soaked body immediately crashes onto his. He understood without words. You hyperventalate & try to explain but he hushes you, he already knows. Your eyes red & teary holding onto Levi tight, & likewise him to you.

Everything began to fade to nothing.

#levi ackerman smut #gay #lemon #angst #bottom male reader #levi x male reader #levi aot #levi ackerman x male reader

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 5 all chapters

-You take him home, and you can't help but stare in awe as you go through the gate. The Wick residence is quite the cabin-style manse, a behemoth in dark painted wood and stone and massive mirrored windows.

“Do you...want to come in?” he offers as you park in the circle drive. “Dog would love to see you.”

You look at him, not sure if that is code for he would like you to spend more time with him. It’s so hard to read this man. It doesn't seem like he's hitting on you though. Just…being nice? You know he must be lonely, and you truly have nothing better to do.

“Ok. I can stay for a little while.”

The mudroom leads into the kitchen, which is dark cabinets and black marble countertops. Dog trots up to you immediately upon entrance, snoofing your outreached hands and leaning heavily on your legs. “Hi sweetie,” you say, scratching his side.

“How about a snack?” John offers, opening the refrigerator. “I’m always hungry after a hike.”

“Okay.”

“Want some coffee? Tea?”

“I can make it, if you show me where your stuff is.”

“No, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me.”

You're a little dumbfounded, standing in this man’s kitchen who by his own admission, you barely know. Never once have you been invited by any of the wealthy visitors from the coffee shop into their homes. Why would you be?

You aware again of how he towers over you. It makes your very bones weak, when he looks down at you with those shining dark eyes. He does not look away from you, holding your gaze. You don't know why, but you feel a little like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.

“Have a seat,” he directs, nodding towards a leather-upholstered stool at the island.

“Ok...”

You are not used to being taken care of. You’ve been on your own for so long.

You feel a little out of place, and cautiously slide up onto the stool, looking around. It’s an open plan, you can see into the recessed living room with its cavernous ceiling. The house is painted in dark shades, masculine, but very stylish. It's classy but comfortable, with large windows to let in the light and the natural beauty from outside.

Then you watch with more than a little fascination as John sets up a kettle and a French press, then starts putting together a little charcuterie spread on a wooden board. His hands are poetry in motion, and like when he’d helped you with your burn, you cannot look away. He slices artisan sausage and cheese, expensive locally crafted treats from the grocer you can never afford on your ramen budget. They look delicious.

You feel like quite the honored guest. The kitchen fills with the heavenly scent of coffee as he pours the hot water into the carafe, and you relax slightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Mr. Wick,” you say as the selection on the charcuterie board expands to sliced apple and herby crackers, still a bit mortified.

“Call me John,” he insists, looking at you through his hair. Your heart does an extra hard tha-thump in your chest. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

With sundries in tow you go to the living room, where there are soft leather couches and a rustic walnut wood coffee table. He turns on the gas fireplace, lending the room a warm glow. You notice there are bookshelves flanking the fireplace that rise almost to the ceiling, completely full. This place is incredibly cozy, and as you settle into the cushion you regret already that you’ll have to leave.

Dog clambers up on the couch with you, practically climbing into your lap. You laugh, hugging the affectionate canine as he licks your face, but John gives him a funny look.

“Is he not allowed on the couch?” you ask, feeling sheepish.

“Not usually, but I'll let it slide.” He says it with a slight smile, looking at the animal bemusedly. “It's not often we have company.”

Dog offers a canine smile, undoubtedly well aware that he is getting away with something this special day.

You take a sip of your coffee, and sigh. This is the good stuff. “God. You make better coffee than I do. Why do you even bother to come into the shop when you could just stay here all day?” You could just sit and read in this room for hours, you reckon. Look out the window. Watch the fire, and forget the outside world even exists.

“The shop has its perks,” he says quietly, looking at you out the corner of his eye. As usual, you're not sure if he's talking in double speak. In the end you decide it’s all in your head, and you relax a little more.

After snacking on tasty tidbits and sipping a bit more brew, you look around more. A wrought iron staircase leads up to a landing. You can tell the house sprawls a long way further back than just what you can see. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Do you really live here all alone?”

You’ve never noticed a wedding ring, but then, he’s missingthe appropriate finger.

“Yes.” He looks off into the fire. “I was married once, but she passed away.”

Shit. You and your big fucking mouth.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. It seems like it was a lifetime ago now.” He frowns, clearly still deeply pained about it, and you feel so terrible for bringing it up. But sometimes once the scab is open, it's best to remember something good.

“What was her name?”

“Helen.”

“How pretty.”

“Yes. She was...a lovely woman.”

“What was she like?”

He smiles then. It's slight, and completely to himself. But you feel some validation in your train of inquiry. “She was smart, and funny, and she lit up any room she walked into.”

His total opposite, it sounded like. There’s a reason opposites attract, to make a whole.

He sighs, a forlorn sound that squeezes your heart. “And, I loved her with all my heart.”

“What a lucky woman,” you say before you can stop yourself.

You absolutely feel the weight of the sidelong look he pays you this time.

“We had some luck, before she was diagnosed. But when you love someone like that...eternity wouldn't be long enough.”

You're not sure why there are tears in your eyes for someone you never met.

“I wouldn't know,” you admit.

No one has ever loved you so much.

“You're young yet. You will, someday.” You can still feel him looking at you, out the corner of your eye. His gaze has such weight to it, a heady, heavy thing that is like a hand on your skin.

“I’m not sure I want to,” you admit frankly. “It sounds…terrifying.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But when it hits you...you don't really get a choice.”

Before you can think of an answer to that, somewhere in the house a phone rings. With a little frown John gets up to answer it. “Make yourself at home,” he tells you. It sounds a bit like an order.

You take an impossibly soft blanket and drape it over you and dog, snuggling up in the cozy warmth. You don’t really mean to fall asleep, but you close your eyes, and you ae done for.

You dream that someone is gently touching your face, tracing the curve of your cheek ever so lightly.

You only wake up when there's a small noise, and you find John cleaning up what's left of the charcuterie board.

“Sorry,” he whispers, glaring down at the cheese knife that dared roll off onto the table.

That he would apologize to you, when you're the one who fell asleep in his house, is pretty absurd.

You sit up a little. The weight of dog has made one of your legs go numb.

“I'm sorry,” you counter. You are mortified as you wonder if you were snoring. Waking up early for your shift at the coffee house tires you out so badly. It can be hard to have a real life, when you wake up at four in the morning. “I didn't mean to doze. It's so warm and comfortable here.”

He frowns again, but you don’t realize it’s because he’s wondering if you are warm and comfortable in your own tiny apartment. He holds up a hand when he sees you struggling to get free of the blanket.

“It's alright. Stay as long as you like.”

He takes what little is left of the sundries back into the kitchen.

You manage to get up, and stretch, reawakening your limbs. You join him in the kitchen. The sun is hanging low in the sky. It will be dark soon. You have sooo overstayed your welcome, or so you think.

“You might as well stay for dinner now,” John says. As usual, you can't really tell if he's joking.

He’s not, in fact, but he is being careful about how he handles this delicate thing between you. Seeing you snoozing contentedly on his couch with his dog moved him to his toes, and the notion of keeping you there with him is becoming harder and harder to resist.

It would be so easy, he thinks, just to keep you.

Fat snowflakes have started to fall outside.

“I think I've imposed on you enough for one day. Thank you, this was nice.”

He looks out at the snow, which is falling even more heavily now.

“Sure you want to go out in this?”

“Right now? Yes. In two hours, probably not.”

He nods at that, seeming to think on something. “Will you...text me that you've gotten home safe?”

You are finding out that this outwardly stone-faced man has a protective steak that is totally endearing. You never would have guessed from his prickly exterior.

“Sure. What's your number?”

He tells you, and you punch it into your phone. “Alright. See you later, Mr. Wick.”

He doesn't correct you, and is it just you, or do his pupils dilate when you call him that?

Hard to tell, with eyes so dark as his.

There is a pregnant moment between you, in which you wonder if you should offer him a hug, or if that would totally ruin the balance of your companionship. You briefly wonder what he would do if you stood on tiptoe, steadied yourself with a hand on that muscular chest, and kissed him on the cheek, before you decide you need to go.

Later you text him a funny string of emojis involving a house, snowflakes, the wide-eyed smiley, and a penguin, imagining how they would make him scrunch up his brow.

Does this mean you're home safe?

Yes, Mr. Wick.

Glad to hear it. Good night, y/n.

#john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine #i just feel like dark academia cabin in the woods would be johns jam 😂

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euorian-pdf · 3 months

Text

Pt. 2"눈을 보고 말할래요. "보고 싶었어요"

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆synopsis: you're living your best life, leaving everything behind in the past however a small 'family' gathering at Levi's home threatens to unfold everything.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆contains: modern au! everyone, Levi's mom and uncle are alive in this au, mentions of swearing but not actual swearing, Carla is also alive, Eren's dad is absent, mentions of medication.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆wc: 9.8K.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆tw: swearing, mentions of pills, medication use and brief manipulation.

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ Here is 1 and 3

Life is going great.

You're done with finals, you're graduating in a few weeks, and you've prepared your graduation gown and a bucket list of all the places you'd like to visit during your friend group trip to the country you've always wanted to travel to.

You've made new friends, such good loving friends. You love them like a relative, like a long lost possession about to bid its goodbye once more. You cherish the time you spend with them and they've shown you that they feel the exact same way.

All of you get along so well, you find joy and solace in each other's company, and the laughter is actually genuine. It's a huge contrast to the previous chapter of your life, where toxicity and ugly attitudes were all you knew about friendships. Now, the warmth of genuine friendships surrounds you. And you couldn't be more grateful.

You've also fallen in love with composing songs and soundtracks, which was originally brought up by a friend of yours after they saw you playing around with a launchpad and they started grooving crazily to the beat you made up on the spot and other times you created melodies that made them cry.

So now, you part-time compose soundtracks for this new uprising director, Levi Ackerman. He's French-Japanese, very well-known in the film industry and you may or may not have the biggest crush on him. He's blunt, reserved, stoic, and loaded with creativity. Nowadays, you are working on his breakthrough project, his films create a canvas for your musical symphonies and all of this wouldn't have happened if your friends didn't lovingly force you to email him your samples.

Honestly, they are your biggest hype-mans, your number-one fans, and your admirers. They tell you that you're so talented that if you released some of your music, you'd be winning awards left to right. But you don't think they'll believe you if you tell them.

You have won awards, plenty of them, more than you can count however the problem is you've won them indirectly.

4 years have passed ever since you went no contact with your 'old friends' and in those 4 years while you were living your best life, working hard to get to where you are right now, they have become popular and not just '10K popular and one viral hit' popular, we're talking about '10 million albums sold, a world tour (and another one coming up), Billboard's most weeks on chart, surpassing world legends and 3 Grammys' popular. Connie on the other hand became a YouTuber and he's amassed a total of 13M subscribers and Historia started a fashion company on par with the leading designers of today.

Half of the songs on their albums that supposedly broke the charts were produced by none other than...you. Most of the ideas on Connie's YouTube channel were brainstormed by the both of you and you see familiar designs on the clothes that celebrities wear because it was you who created that blueprint.

The last two you can't take much credit for but for the songs? Your compositions, your melodies which you have poured all your soul into, have become the backdrop of their meteoric rise.

You don't know how to feel, everything seems so bittersweet.

On one hand, there's pride in your work being recognized on such a grand scale. On the other, there's the confusion and overall sense of unease that comes with the realization.

You had so many questions surrounding this topic such as, 'Why didn't they credit you' and 'Did they do it on purpose or was it accidental'

After all, no one knows where you are, you are left with no information, you cut off everyone and now that you think it through, realistically there was no way to credit you.

While curious about their whole uprise to fame, you remind yourself that although you do deserve the credit and the fame, it's not what you're looking for right now. You've got a different helmet on and if you have to regain contact with them to gain your rightfully so credit, they might as well keep it.

You are interrupted from your session of zoning out by a p!ng, an email pops up on your computer with the subject being Urgent and the sender being Levi Ackerman.

Urgent:

come over.

You've grown accustomed to his antics by now, as you have been working together for about 2 years now. If he says 'It's urgent' it's very likely that it's just 'I don't want to ask anyone else because it's embarrassing so I'll ask you'

So you reply back with a call, smiling to yourself as you decide to tease him a little. After the 5th ring, he picks up which is funny considering he's just staring at the phone ringing until he deems it's the right ring to answer to seem like he was busy.

"What?" He asks sighing as if he has better things to do with his time.

"Oh no, it's nothing. I'm just wondering when you'll switch to texting because I can't really keep up with fossils" you reply trying to get a rise out of him.

"The only thing fossil is your humour" He retorts unfazed as he sips on something in the background, obviously tea.

"Are you sure it's not your age, I'm pretty sure you were friends with Aurelius at one point"

"Cute, are you sure it's not your personality, I'm sure I've met thousands of people with the exact same everything as you."

"Ouch, I didn't deserve that" you reply, feigning hurt in your voice when you're actually just joking.

"So what do you need? What is so urgent" you ask, curious of what it is this time.

"Come over and you'll know" He responds curtly and before you can respond, he hangs up on you. You scoff, internally noting to give him an earful when you get to his place. You roll your eyes at his attitude, his characteristic not unfamiliar to you.

With a quick text to your roommate, you inform her about your plans for the night and that food is in the fridge. Anticipating her lack of response due to her own night out partying, you head out, leaving the message to be read by her whenever she can.

Levi's home is a 15-minute drive from your apartment, he lives in the middle of the very fashioned neighborhood. Despite being full of creativity and the creator of films that have everyone on the edge of their seat, the man can't design his house at all. He has the design of a monochromatic minimalist, with no sign of color anywhere, you can't stand it. Everything is grey there, you feel the color getting sucked out of you when you enter his house.

Finally, you arrive there quickly enough as the road to his neighborhood is quite deserted. You struggle to park the car in his driveway as it's very narrow but after a few minutes, you manage.

Guess rich people don't leave their houses, you think as you ring the doorbell to his house.

He opens the door and stands there with his nth cup of tea somewhat observing you before telling you 'You know the drill, I'll be in the office'.

Ah, the drill, how could you forget? You give him a sarcastic smile before watching him walk off and adhere to the so-called drill.

You have to take off your shoes, put them in a disinfectant bag, seal it up, and hang it on the shoe rack. As well as disinfecting your hands twice and hanging your coat and bag on a coat rack where you clean it both with some weird lint roller he has. You don't mind it really, it is his house after all.

After doing all that, you put on some guest slippers and head to his office. The house hasn't changed since your last visit, it's almost vibrating with greyness. You feel like smiling is forbidden, which may be, in the comfort of his home.

You turn a corner and see him sitting in his office chair playing back parts of his last movie and writing notes on how to improve. The mood would be better if the office had some sort of personality to it but no, this is an asylum.

"You know I recently came across a color palette, and it immediately reminded me of you, It was more on the brown side, with beautiful shades of wood, warm earth tones, and hints of amber." You share with Levi, attempting to bring a touch of color into the monochromatic conversation.

"There were even hints of grey" You add to gain his curiosity after he seems to have ignored you at the first attempt at making conversation.

Levi raises an eyebrow and stares at you through the rim of his glasses, clearly unimpressed by the mention of color invading his sanctuary of grayscale. "Why would a color palette remind you of me?" he questions, his tone conveying sarcasm and a hint of curiosity.

You chuckle, finding his reaction predictable. "Well, it had a certain rugged elegance like someone I know and also because I think it would suit you"

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, a faint trace of a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. He gets up from his desk to head towards the office cabinet. "Flattery won't change my stance, I like how things are just fine. "

"I don't know what kind of colour trauma you've obtained during your centuries of living but to each their own, I guess" You joke smiling widely as he deadpans at your joke of his age before you change the subject and look upon where he's going. He has a teacup collection in his office cabinet, you think but shrug it off instantly as it kind of makes sense for the tea-addict man to have a teacup collection. The cabinet seems to be reserved for just tea, teacups, teabags, tea flavors, and even tea scents. Perhaps he was a teashop owner in another life.

He pours the pre-made fresh tea into one of the cups and places it before you, "So now that I'm here, what do you want?"

He puts his pen down and takes off his reading glasses, before interlocking his fingers and taking a more serious stance. You honestly think he's about to fire you but his glint seems a bit more personal.

"I need a plus one" he finally admits as if it was the hardest thing ever.

Your eyes widen in surprise at Levi's unexpected request for a plus one. Your lips barely touch the cup's rim and decide to taste it later for fear of choking on your tea. His usually stern demeanor seems to soften for a moment, revealing a side of him that isn't often on display.

"But for two events, one personal and the other official." He continues.

"Personal, as in you wanna ask me out?" you ask, totally confused because that makes no sense.

"Tsk, no you idiot, maybe let me finish next time" He interjected quickly hands discreetly covering his ears at the tiniest blush that formed at the tip of them.

You become flustered at the abrupt response, slightly embarrassed by your assumption. "Maybe don't take prehistoric pauses between sentences. What's the personal event?"

He takes a moment to regain his composure, the brief flicker of a curious glint in his eyes indicating that he might be enjoying the misunderstanding on your end. "The personal one is a family gathering, My mother wants me to be the host of the family gathering this month."

"And I come in where?"

"I usually stay isolated in my room because I can't stand the whole mood of the place, it's too chatty and noisy but now I have to host." He tsks shaking his head at the memory of the last family gathering.

"And you don't know how to, so you want my help?"

Levi nods, his expression serious. "In short, yes."

"Right, yeah so I still don't understand. Why don't you pick someone else, someone who you're already comfortable with" You ask, not knowing why he's asking you when he has a few friends of his own.

"Who says I'm not comfortable with you?" Levi gives you an incredulous look as if your question is absurd and the answer is obvious.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at Levi's unexpected response. "Comfortable with me? You've been scowling at me since we met."

Levi offers a nonchalant shrug. "It's my default expression. I'm not a people person. You're the least annoying person I've met so far."

"um, thanks, I guess?"

Levi nods, his acknowledgment devoid of any neutrality. "Don't read too much into it."

You can't tell if he's being sarcastic or genuinely expressing a form of acceptance. Either way, you decide not to dwell on it too much. Levi is known for his stoic demeanor, and deciphering his feelings is like trying to read ancient hieroglyphs, so it's best not to read too much into it.

"Okay, and for the official one?"

"The official one," Levi starts, "is an award ceremony. One of my films is nominated for a few categories, and my presence is required as a formality."

"Congratulations? But then again you're not fond of award ceremonies, are you?" You nearly get up from your seat to give him a hug but refrain from doing so not wanting to cross any boundaries.

"Yeah, I couldn't care less, stupid pricks think they have the authority to judge whose art is superior. It's fucking bullshit" Levi's expression turns sour as he expresses his disdain for the award ceremony.

You sense the bitterness in his words while taking a sip of your tea and savoring the taste with a pleased hum, you realize that the world of awards and recognition might not be as glamorous and fulfilling as it seems. "I get it, awards don't define the value of your work. It's about the impact you make and the stories you tell, but you have to attend so that you gain the recognition you need and deserve, makes sense."

Levi nods in agreement, feeling warmth seeping through him as you are fond of the tea he brewed. "Exactly. Anyway, they're announcing the nominations for soundtracks too so keep an eye out for that."

"Yeah okay, that's cool, but also nerve-wracking" you admit already feeling the anxiety seeping in at the thought of the ceremony.

"Why? Because there are major actors?"

"No, the cameras, the judgments, the expectations, it all feels overwhelming," you reply, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Levi gives you a side glance sipping on his tea and finishing what's left, his usual stern expression softening just a tad. "If you believe in your work, that's all that matters. They can go to hell with all their opinions."

You smile and nod, his words making sense as you push away any thoughts of negativity that may increase your anxiety. You think of thoughts to push back the unwanted ones and Levi seems to be the perfect solution. You can't help but stare at Levi, busy again with noting stuff down, his handwriting a mix of scribbles and cursives. How his fingers tend to be very pale and dainty, a taint of red on his knuckles from cracking them too much. How his hair falls on his face makes you want to part them away and tuck the strands behind his ears.

He looks up at you, sharp grey eyes boring into yours, eyebrows raised as a defense mechanism against the gaze you've been holding. You quickly avert your eyes and change your gaze, not wanting him to catch on.

"So which one is first and when is it?" you begin, trying to shift the focus back to the matter at hand.

"Family gathering, tomorrow at 7 pm" He answers.

"Tomorrow? You didn't think to give me a week's notice?"

Levi looks at you with a questioning gaze at your mildly surprised tone. "You and a week's notice is the same as a bouncing ball in a minefield, you'd eventually worry yourself to death with your overthinking tendencies."

"Overthinking is true but the meals need more time. so anything I need to know about the gathering, will I be the only non-family there?" you inquired, curious to know how awkward it will be.

"One, the meals are already prepared by a chef I hired. and two, no, one of my cousins, the brat, brings over all of her friends and it becomes a whole noise-fest, so you wouldn't be the only non-family," he explained, annoyance forming on his face as he recalled the headaches he's endured over the years.

You nod, mentally noting the details. "Got it. And the award ceremony?"

Levi glances at his calendar. "That's in two weeks. You'll need to clear your schedule for the whole day because it's far, the event starts in the evening."

"Alright, I'll make sure I'm available, Anything else I should be prepared for?", you reply, thinking about the preparations you'll need to make for both occasions.

Levi shrugs, "Just the usual chitter-chatter film industry shit. Red carpet, photographers, people pretending to be interested in conversations they're having when really they're full of shit."

You nod, "Got it, it's all just a show."

Levi nods as his facial features lightly soften. "More or less, It's all about appearances, which is why I rarely attend these things willingly."

"Okay, so tomorrow at 7 pm but I should come earlier, right? here at your place, no overthinking and I'm guessing the attire is casual?" You ask listing all the things you're required of.

Levi nods, "Casual is fine. Nothing too fancy and nothing too casual Just don't show up in pajamas, and we should be good."

You smirk teasing him a little, "Okay, I'll save the pajamas for the award ceremony then."

"But wait a minute, what's in this for me?" You ask slyly poking at him to see what he might offer you. You need everything he can offer to give you at this point.

Levi relaxes into his chair and crosses his arms, seemingly intrigued by your banter. "What do you mean, what's in it for you?"

You chuckle, enjoying the banter between you two. "Well, I'm doing you a favor by being your plus one. I think I deserve something in return."

Levi gives you a blank stare, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "And what would that something be?"

You pause for dramatic effect and also because you didn't think he'd play along before responding with a sly grin, "Two things, one, you'll call me by my first name, and two, you owe me dinner"

Levi deadpans at your demands, seemingly unamused. "Call you by your first name? That's negotiable. But dinner, you're practically dreaming."

"That's totally fine you can just forever be in debt."

Levi raises an eyebrow at your response, contemplating your proposal. There's a brief moment of silence, and you can almost sense the gears turning in his stoic demeanor. Finally, he lets out a 'tsk fine', a subtle way of saying 'I can't say no to you so do whatever you want'. You are too oblivious to see the stark contrast in Levi's behavior with you and with others, it's basically night and day. He treats you very differently, and though his stoicism remains, there's a peculiar comfort in the way he interacts with you. It's as if your presence manages to crack the surface of his usual 'idgaf' and 'the world bores me' attitude.

So, you like where you are right now, you like how things are going and you never want this chapter in your life to change. You've found a sense of fulfillment in your work, genuine friendships, and an interesting dynamic with Levi.

You're content.

Meanwhile on the other hand...

Eren wakes up disheveled, his hair now shorter and his moustache is long gone, shaved out of existence. He stands in the bathroom, already finished brushing his teeth and water droplets falling down his face, a product of washing his face. He looks at the mirror cabinet, deciding whether or not to take his pills. He decides not to, not being bothered to as he feels there's no point to it.

He doesn't want the stability of his moods or the functionality of his routine to actually work. It doesn't mean anything, at least not anymore.

He has two calendars, one plain white that is normal, he uses it to remember certain dates and important interviews that shape his career. The other calendar is reserved for you, your absence to be exact, he crosses out each day that passes without your captivating presence. Today it’s 4 years, 3 months, and 6 days. Every day at 7, he sits down by his desk, grabs both your calendar and his journal, and just writes how much he regrets what he did that day. He's gone through 7 journals so far and he writes for you, to you, and because of you.

He writes about how much he misses the music that used to fill his house when days were hard and he thought he couldn't get through them. How you were so patient and loving and that you didn't deserve anything that he put you through. He writes what reminds him of you, the tulips that bloom in the spring near his mom's house, the cherry blossoms he came across during his tour to Japan, or the jasmines he was gifted by an Indian fan during his trip there.

Everything comes back to you.

He feels so pathetic, so darn twisted to have said all those things to you, to have pushed you away and the worst part is, he doesn't even know why. He doesn't know whether or not to embrace the memories of your smiles, laughter, and the warmth of your presence or let it haunt him. Eren regrets the days when he let his issues take control and drive you far away from him, the days when he couldn't appreciate the simple joy of your company.

He would give everything to get you back again, but that's selfish of him, he thinks. He wants you to be happy, to live life, and never look back for him. He's torn between wanting you back in his life and acknowledging that it might be better for you to move on. The weight of his actions, the hurt he caused, and the bridge of friendship he destroyed between you and the rest of your friends are heavy burdens he carries.

Connie hates him to this day and rightfully so. So does Jean.

Eren used a recording of Connie that was taken out of context. The day of that recording was on your birthday and Connie was tired of the plain ol' happy birthday surprise because it wasn't surprising anyone. So he took it upon himself to spice things up. He decided that he'd have a fight with you the day before and the day after that he'd make a fake recording of him saying horrible things and once you got upset, he'd apologize and surprise you with your favorite flavored cake. He knew he'd get a few head smacks from you for even thinking about calling you a 'bitch' but all he really wanted was to hand-make the cake with the rest of your friend group and see you eat it half teary-eyed and laughing. But he decided against it after recording the audio, paranoid that it might actually drive you away so he resorted to just the plain non-surprising birthday party.

But no, Eren saved that recording even when Connie had deleted it from his phone. Eren drove you against everyone for mainly one reason, or rather two. Jealousy and insecurity.

Eren hated, he loathed, how you spend time with Jean, he despised how you looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, all doe-y and filled with admiration and love. You shouldn't be looking at horse-face like that, it should be him.

Eren believed he deserved your undivided attention, and the idea of you sharing those moments with Jean fuelled his jealousy. The insecurities within him festered, making him resentful of anyone who seemed to be close to you.

In an attempt to have you closer to him, Eren manipulated the situation, using Connie as a pawn in his scheme. The recording, taken out of context, became a weapon that not only hurt you but also fractured their own friendship. Connie, who was genuinely trying to create a memorable surprise, became an unknowing victim of Eren's envious tactics. This showed just how far Eren was willing to go to have you all to himself. He also had another recording of Jean also taken out of context but since he threatened Jean that he'd tell you everything, Jean thought it would be better to come out on his own terms.

But it all backfired. The fallout from his actions left a trail of broken friendships and severed ties. The fallout was severe. Connie was hurt and betrayed, harbored deep resentment towards Eren, rarely ever talking to him unless it was urgent. Connie's initial reaction was worse, first, he took it as a joke and brushed Jean off when he told him everything, and then when he entered your room to look for you, everything was wiped, your closets were empty, your gaming setup that was right next to his was completely clean, only the table remained and all Connie could see was red causing a huge fight between him and Eren.

Jean, too, felt the sting of betrayal as Eren's actions caused you to forever leave and leave them swimming in regret not only driving a wedge between friends but also leaving a lasting scar on the trust and happiness that existed between the entire friend group.

To say that they all miss you would be a heavy understatement. It's like you took away the sunshine and left them in a never-ending gloomy day. It's not the same without your crazy laughter and the way you made even the boring stuff fun. Everything's just kind of off now, and they can't shake the feeling that things got messed up for no good reason.

In the dead of night, when everything's quiet, each of them thinks about the good times and how quickly things went south. There's this heavy feeling of 'what if' hanging in the air, 'What if I never created that recording' 'What if I never told her how I truly felt about her in the past, would that have changed her decision' 'what if i didn't exist'. Eren especially can't get over the fact that he let someone as wonderful as you slip away for his own self-centered and insecure reasons.

Life moves on, yes, but it doesn't seem so in this context. Everything feels so dull, they don't have fun anymore, no one laughs genuinely, it's very awkward. Everyone wonders where you went, where you've been, how you are, if you're happy at least, and that if you are then they're happy too but they're still figuring out how to fix the mess. Your absence is this big, annoying elephant in the room. If your absence has taught them something it's that they should try to appreciate the people around them. Your absence is like a neon sign saying, "Don't fuck up."

Back to the present day time, Eren gets a text from Mikasa and he doesn't want to open it but does so that he doesn't get manhandled and thrown across the backyard.

Mikasa: get ready and be there me and auntie are already in the car driving

Mikasa: the address for the gathering is [Street Address/PO BOX], dress well pls

He groans into his pillow. Another stupid gathering, he thought he could get away from this year's gathering by traveling to America, a country where Mikasa's relatives aren't scattered around but no, the host of this year's gathering is Levi and he lives in America and specifically in the same state he traveled to. Eren can't even begin to express his annoyance. It's almost like the entire universe is against him not attending and he's not even related to anyone there. Why does he have to go, he thinks? Social events are the bane of his existence, ironic considering his whole career relies on interacting with people (fans).

Eren contemplates ignoring the text and pretending he never saw it. Maybe he can come up with a convincing excuse, like a sudden illness or something lame like 'I accidentally leaked the address, fans everywhere'. But he knows Mikasa too well – her persistence is unmatched. Ignoring her texts would only escalate the situation and so he responds with a 'fine, got it'.

He tosses his phone aside and stares at the ceiling. The prospect of facing another family gathering fills him with dread. It's not the family part that bothers him; it's the forced interactions, the fake smiles, and the constant questioning about his personal life. Resigned, he starts thinking about what to wear, already dreading the inevitable awkwardness that awaits him.

Eren makes sure to dress casually, opting for a comfortable yet presentable look. He styles his hair with a bit more care than usual, not wanting to appear too disheveled. As a final touch, he puts on his best cologne, he doesn't know why, but he feels compelled to dress properly, look proper, and act proper.

Almost as if there's something, or rather someone that's going to present tonight, that's worth impressing...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You woke up at 10 am and left for Levi's house at 1 pm, giving yourself a few good 6 hours to prepare everything. Levi insisted that you didn't need to come so early and that he's already setting up everything but you like these kinds of things so you tell him it's fine. He tells you to utilize the catering staff he hired and leave their job to them but you refuse. It's a 'family' gathering, it should have bits and pieces of his personality embedded into his effort as well.

You couldn't find some grey cutlery so you bought what you could find which happened to be some colorful plates to Levi's dismay but you promised him that you'd keep them and it wouldn't stay in his house for more than a few days. He sighs a 'tch' at you that you don't think much of. You waste no time and get to work immediately, unpacking the bags and organizing the items you bought. The colorful plates you've chosen might not match Levi's monochromatic taste, but you believe they add a lively touch to the gathering.

You proceed with setting up the dining area and arranging the colorful plates alongside the other tableware. The clash of colors against the neutral backdrop creates a unique aesthetic, one that you find oddly satisfying. Levi also starts his part in cleaning, which doesn't take long as he cleans his house on a regular basis.

The catering staff, initially unsure about your decisions, follows your lead. As you continue to work, Levi observes silently, occasionally offering input or preferences. Despite the clash of styles, a subtle understanding begins to fold and everyone likes the outcome of the collaboration between the expertise of the staff and your knowledge of Levi's tastes.

After a few good hours, everything is set and you go change from your 'helping out' clothes to your casual clothes for the event. The catering staff bid their goodbye and Levi takes a seat in the living room.

It is now 6:00 and Levi's mom and uncle arrive, you can hear their chatter from upstairs, a booming laugh can be heard and you assume it's his uncle. You've never been more nervous in your life. 'How should you greet them?' 'What if you look too casual' 'What if you say something wrong' are all the negative thoughts flowing through your mind right now. You take a deep breath, brush them aside, and head downstairs and you immediately happen to lock eyes with his mom, she sits on the couch with an amazing posture while Levi and his uncle bicker at the door. You wonder how Levi greeted his mom, too bad you missed it.

She looks so ethereal, with long healthy black hair flowing nicely with the white dress she's wearing, and her facial features are soft and delicate, she looks like the kindest person ever, she radiates this sort of 'welcome' feeling. As if she'll accept you in your arms, sinner or priest.

You snap out of it, stopping the gawking, and continue to walk up to her. She instantly smiles and gets up from the couch.

"Who is this young pretty lady?" Levi's mom exclaims with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. You feel a mix of relief and nervousness as you extend a hand towards her.

"Hello Ma'am, I'm [Name]," you say, trying to match her warmth. "I'm a friend and co-worker of Levi's. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Ma'am?" She laughs a hearty laugh and pats you gently on the shoulders "Sweetie, there's no need to be so formal, You can just call me Kuchel"

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kuchel" you reply, not bringing yourself to call someone much older than you by just their first name.

"You're a cheeky lady, aren't you?" Kuchel jokes with you, giving you an affectionate smile and you finally understand what the term 'girl crush' means because you've never been so positively intimidated by someone's elegance and stance. She urges you to sit down when in reality you should be the one urging her to sit down and making her feel comfortable.

Levi and his uncle also come by to sit down before he introduces himself to you.

"How's it going, little lady? I'm Kenny. I'm this kid's uncle, regrettably" he says with a smirk, causing Levi to roll his eyes and Kuchel to slap his arm playfully.

"Hello, I'm [Name], I work alongside Levi and we're also friends." Levi glances at you to see if you're uncomfortable in any way, he's good at reading people and you seem, relaxed and not tense as he predicted you'd be. He mentally nods at that and reminds himself to glance at you every now and then.

Kuchel smiles warmly at you. "It's wonderful to have you here, [Name]. I'm glad he's becoming friends with coworkers, he usually never does that"

"Mom, I'm 28, stop talking about me like I'm 15" Levi groans at the embarrassment, hands digging into his face.

"You're still my baby boy, no matter how old you get." She retorts, moving closer to him to pinch his cheeks and coddle him.

You coo at the rare sight, of Levi crossing his arms while his mother hugs him and strokes his hair, it's obvious Levi loves the affection his mother gives him, his fond smile gives it away no matter how grey his eyes look.

His uncle also seems to enjoy the sight, smiling a faint one as he catches you observing him. He flashes you a wink before looking back at the scene. You feel less tense now, feeling more welcome with the whole atmosphere.

It's now 7:15 and the first batch of relatives come out of a minivan, you smile and they somehow hug you as if you're a part of the family, one elderly woman asks if you're Levi's other half and you can't help but stutter on your words as you form incoherent sentences you later resort to shaking your head as a form of no.

It's now 8:15, an hour has passed and everyone is eating their starters, you look at the lively atmosphere and you feel so warm inside, everyone knows one another and everyone treats you like a relative, you feel like you belong before the doorbell rings again and you tell them that you'll go get it.

Nothing could've prepared you for who was behind that door.

You quickly open the door and get your clothing stuck on the handle of the door by opening it too quickly. You manage to say your hellos but your focus is on the door, trying to get out of this embarrassing situation.

"[Name], What’re you doing here?" a voice asks and you think it's Kuchel but once you finally get your clothing unstuck from the door and look up at the new batch of guests, you're astronomically wrong.

It's Carla, It's Carla Jaeger.

You've never thought you'd see Carla of all people here, you think you're hallucinating and that the presence of Kuchel may have triggered your longing for the mother figure who treated you like you were her daughter.

But no, it's actually Carla. How could this be and why? She's standing in front of the door with a fluffy scarf and a huge coat that hides her actual outfit. She stares at you with sadness in her eyes, but then Kuchel shouts 'Carla come in' which makes you snap out of it and open the door so that she may enter. She does so and as you try to close the door she tells you that..

"There's one more person"

And cue the anxiety, panic, and dread. You look at her, confused and worried. Carla immediately embraces you with a tight hug, as if seeking comfort or offering it, you're not sure. She cups your face gently, looking into your eyes with a mixture of affection and sorrow.

"[Name], You've grown up."

Carla whispers, her voice a mixture of sorrow and longing. The memories flood back – the warmth of her hugs, the wisdom in her advice, and the unconditional love she showered upon you. The times she'd teach you how to bake and you'd end up messing the whole thing up and she'd laugh at you while teasing.

"You look more refined" she continues, her gaze filled with a motherly pride. Carla steps back, holding your shoulders as she examines you. "But the same twinkle in your eyes remains."

"Thank you, Auntie" you reply not knowing what else, a pang of guilt heaving in your heart as you mentally embrace yourself for the person who accompanied her as the doorbell rings again.

please don't be eren, please don't be eren, please don't be eren

This is what you keep chanting in your mind as Carla gestures towards the door, indicating that you should answer it. As you open the door, you're met with the face of the person who accompanied her.

It's not Eren. Thank God

It's Mikasa.

You mentally smack yourself on the head, how could you have not known? Mikasa Ackerman, Levi Ackerman. What more clues did you need? A big red billboard?

Mikasa carries two baskets of what seems to be treats for everyone at the family gathering. She doesn’t seem to notice you since you're practically hiding behind the door as she goes forward to set the gifts down at the kitchen island and give greetings to her relatives.

Taking your invisibility to her as an advantage, you close the door not wanting the cold to get into the warmed house, and wonder where you should go and you decide you’ll go upstairs to get some fresh air, calm your nerves, and focus on the priority here.

You run up the stairs and go to the nearest bathroom, you’re pacing around not knowing what to do. You think let’s rewind a bit.

Now we know that Mikasa is related to Levi, check. Does that guarantee that anyone else who you’ve left behind could also be here, no. But why is Carla here then?

And that’s where you’re stumped. You have no clue. And you don’t want this to ruin your image with the people you just met, for you to just run off out of nowhere because someone you know is in the same room as you. You’re not like this, this is the anxiety talking. So what know them? Say your hellos and look the other way, it’s very simple.

You slap your face gently as if to beat the words into your face, that’s until you hear a booming noise from downstairs, it sounds like someone is cheering. Anyways, you think, let’s get back to this gathering. Whoever comes, came and whoever is not present well then that’s a win for us.

And with that you head downstairs, slowly observing the table where everyone is seated at, Levi with his armed crosses, Kuchel with her hand on his head, Kenny bored out of his mind and Carla exchanging smiles with Kuchel. The other relatives seem to chatter among themselves.

You quickly head down the stairs and grab a plate to get yourself some food. Carla comes along behind you, she follows what you do, also grabbing a plate and putting food on her plate.

“So how has life been treating you, [Name]?”

She asks, genuine curiosity flowing through her voice, you look at her and put your plate down to show some respect and talk to her.

“It’s going great, I’m graduating in a few weeks.” You reply, observing her features, she hasn’t changed a bit, she looks just as comforting as before. She smiles at that and pats your back.

“I’m proud of you sweetie. You deserve everything good in this life and the next”

You smile and hug her abruptly, the connection you had with Carla was unmatched, nothing could top that and you just feel so guilty for not telling her anything beforehand.

“Listen, [Name], As a mother, I need to apologize.” You look at her confused and she continues with heavy words. “I never got the chance to apologize to you for Eren’s behavior that day, if I double-checked whether or not he took his medication, perhaps this wouldn’t have become the outcome.”

“Auntie, this is in no way your fault. This was my decision, I’d like to think that either way, I would’ve left. It’s just the terms I left on could’ve been improved, but that’s also my fault. I just combined everyone in the same category as Eren and left without further notice. That’s a fault on my part.”

"Nonsense, none of this could ever be your fault." She smiles and pats your cheek,“The ever so kind [Name], you have a heart pure as the driven snow.”

You appreciate her words but can't shake the feeling that you could have handled things differently. All the guilt and regret start pouring in, you've left so many people under the assumption that they hated you, Carla was one of them, you thought that if her son despised you enough to hurt you, then what would be stopping her?

Carla seems to sense your troubled self so she takes it upon herself to make the mood more friendly and less soggy with regret. She's seen how regretful both you and Eren look and it's so dreadful as his mother and as someone who cares about you. She tries to lighten his mood up, take him to places where serotonin may be boosted, and engage with him in activities that liven things up, but to no avail. Eren was stuck in a trance of regret.

Carla wishes she could ask you to at least talk with Eren or sort things out with him. Her motherly side worried about the wellbeing of her son but she can't bring herself to do so, it's too much on you and selfish of her.

"My kitchen is in good shape, I know for a fact that it has missed your mishaps," Carla says with a playful glint in her eyes, attempting to bring a smile to your face.

"Mishaps? More like nuclear testings" you respond with a chuckle, appreciating Carla's effort to lighten the mood. Her warm demeanor and easygoing nature make you feel more at ease, at least for the moment.

Kuchel calls Carla over once more, she has a glass of red wine and she seems like she has lots of things to catch up with her. Carla gives you a nod before heading over to her and taking her plate of food on the way.

You take a moment to collect yourself, glancing around the room. Levi is engaged in a conversation with his uncle Kenny and Mikasa is on her phone. You take this as an opportunity to clean the dishes, left by the guests as they head to the living room to watch a sitcom together.

It's now 8:50. it's almost two hours past the intended time, you can let out a deep sigh of relief. No one else is coming and everyone here is sleeping here for the night. Washing the dishes calms your nerves and you feel more relaxed, you hope that Mikasa stays on her phone and does not notice you. That'd be great, but the chances of someone not noticing another in a 'family gathering' are very low. She'll probably notice one way or another.

You finish the dishes, dry your hands, and allow the families to enjoy their own company. You, however, make your way to the small seating area, opposite to the door. You grab a book from the shelf and start reading, taking your mind off all this.

In the process, 20 minutes have passed and it's now 9:30, you giggle at the book, you never knew Levi was into comedy like this, half the books on the shelf are comedy and satire books. You put a hand over your mouth to conceal your chuckles as you continue reading. The sound of laughter and conversations from the living room serves as a comforting backdrop. Despite the initial nervousness, being immersed in Levi's world, even if just through his book collection, brings a sense of belonging.

Until the doorbell rings once more.

You're on the other side of the room so it'll take a bit longer for you to open it but as soon as you get up, Mikasa is running to the door to open it. Why would she be running when she was on her phone the entire time? You're just standing there a bit confused at who it is and why 2 hours after the initial time.

Mikasa opens the door and the room suddenly turns into an incoherent noise factory. You can't see who it is because they immediately hug Mikasa but you'd recognize that grey hair anywhere.

It's Connie and behind him are Jean, Sasha, Historia, Ymir, and Reiner.

Mikasa steps back, breaking the hug, and the noise reaches a peak as everyone starts talking at once. Connie, always the ball of energy, is the first to greet everyone, Levi leaves him hanging on his fist bump and he doesn't mind as he goes on to greet everybody else.

You don't dare move from your spot continuing reading your book hoping to stay unnoticed in your little corner of the room. As everyone continues their greetings and catching up, you bury yourself in the book, pretending to be engrossed in the words on the pages. You hear Historia apologizing for being late as the roads were blocked due to snow.

The minutes pass, and you start to believe that your plan to remain inconspicuous is working. That is until you hear a familiar voice entering the room, and a chill runs down your spine. The voice is unmistakable, and dread creeps in as you hope it's just a figment of your imagination.

Eren stands there awkwardly, pathetically fidgeting with his hands as he mumbles 'Sorry I'm late'. Kuchel hugs him and playfully pinches his cheeks and he shyly averts his gaze down. You take this as a small chance to observe him from the peek of your book.

He grew a bit taller, his hair was styled to a fashionable degree, and his face was glowing although his eyes seemed dark from his eyebags as if he hadn't been getting much sleep. His azure eyes aren't as dull as you last saw them, they're still a bit dull but the color stands out more. He looks disconnected from the rest of his friends and Mikasa pulls his arm to bring him closer.

You should've picked a more discreet place but then again why should you be hiding, it's just a coincidence that all of you happen to be reunited here. However you don't want any drama, you contemplate leaving through the back door and telling Levi something urgent came up but you don't want to let him down and there's no point in doing so if you so claim to have forgotten about them, meeting them, saying hello and disappearing again shouldn't be so hard. Maybe, just maybe, you can enjoy the evening without the complication of facing them. The minutes tick by, and your hope grows. Perhaps, for once, fate is on your side.

It's as if everything is happening in slow motion, the laughter of Carla and Kuchel, Connie play fighting with Levi's uncle and Historia chatting to the elderly family members. You glance once more from between the book and you see that their attention is elsewhere. You get a text from your roommate who happens to tell you that all the roads are blocked due to a snowstorm in the area and wondering if you're safe.

you: yes i'm fine, are you at home?

claudia: yeah, it seems like you have to stay where you are until the snow dies down, don't try to go anywhere, kay?

You seem worried a bit, wondering if your friends are also at home and not outside, you check the news and it calmly urges anyone and everyone who is outside to get inside and people who are inside to stay inside.

you: damn, it looks bad out there, how's everyone, are they all inside?? i can't get through to them.

claudia: [one attachment], we're fine, see u at home tmrw. stay safe!!

You open the attachment to see all of your friends huddling in the room, windows closed and all in oodies giving the camera a big thumbs up and smiling.

You smile at that, responding with an 'okay' and sighing a deep breath as all of your friends are safe. You're convinced the universe is against you, making you trapped in a house with people you want to run away from. You can't stand the anxiety that comes with it, you put the book down and hear the distant chatters of Levi's family members telling each other about the news as they put on the news channel.

You need a drink, you think to yourself. You quietly slip away from your corner, avoiding making any noise as you make your way to the kitchen. The distant chatter and laughter follow you, but you try to drown it out. You open the fridge, and fortunately, there's an array of beverages. You grab a bottle of water, thinking that's probably a safer choice but then you put it back as wine seems like a better option in this situation.

While you're being indecisive, it seems that someone else has entered the kitchen, they have their back to you, and you see the mini man bun and immediately know it's Eren. He hasn't noticed you yet, he thinks you're just a random family member also in the kitchen, choosing some snacks, but he has trouble finding the cork opener for the wine bottle he's about to open. He can't go back and ask Levi in front of everyone because he knows his mom. will scold him for trying to drink. So he resorts to asking a stranger, you, instead to save him that trouble.

"um, excuse me?" He starts looking at your back as you attempt to leave the kitchen stealthily, sneaking quietly past the cabinets and stuffing your face in one of them. You freeze at the sound of Eren's voice. The last thing you wanted was to become involved in his search for a corkscrew. In an attempt to avoid the impending interaction, you continue pretending to browse the snacks.

"Excuse me," he repeats, a touch of frustration in his voice.

You debate whether to respond or slip away unnoticed. The room suddenly feels smaller, you feel claustrophobic and you wish you had chosen a different place to hide from the social storm. I mean, why would you go to the kitchen when they just arrived on an empty stomach?

Eren decides to approach you, still unaware of your identity, he lightly taps you on your shoulder. "Do you know where the corkscrew is?" he asks, coming up beside you and you swear this feels like a scene straight out of a Kdrama, one of those awkward side-character interactions that you'd rather avoid. Panic sets in, and you need to think and act quickly. Holding your breath, you contemplate the best course of action.

Escape seems like a tempting option. You scold yourself for feeling afraid and decide that avoiding unnecessary drama is your priority. Without turning around to face him, you respond vaguely, slightly changing your voice.

"I think I saw it near the sink," gesturing vaguely in that direction.

You sigh a loud deep breath as he heads in that direction but immediately suck it back in. As you are walking backward, you bump into someone, you pray it's someone you don't know but by reflex, you turn around to see who you bumped into and come face to face with a groaning Connie. He has his hand on his arm after he hits it on the corner of the wall and looks up at you only to have the annoyance etched on his face disappear within a millisecond.

He stands there speechless, unable to say your name, unable to even understand the whole situation, is it real? or did he play fight with Kenny a bit too hard? He can't do anything but stand there. He takes you in, every part of you and it finally hits him like a wave of strong tides. He missed you so badly, all this time, he never truly understood how much your absence affected him. The sight of you, the sound of your voice as you mutter a small 'oh', the simple act of bumping into you – it's a flood of emotions he tried to suppress.

"Hello and sorry."

Is all you say, in a monotone voice, a stark contrast to the emotional whirlwind that's taking place within you. You grab a packet of chips and purposefully move away, creating a physical distance between the two of you. You move behind him because behind you is Eren opening a bottle of wine and glancing at the whole accident, still oblivious.

Connie scoffs at your attitude, he's immediately snapped out of his trance and feels the need to confront you. You haven't even bothered to hear his side of the story, or given him a chance to explain and it's so fucking annoying.

"Sorry for bumping into me or sorry for going no contact for like half a decade, hm?" he questions, his tone carrying a mix of sarcasm and genuine hurt. The confrontation hangs in the air, and you can feel the weight of his unspoken emotions.

You want to retort back but you know that this will just lead to confrontation on a wide scale and you don't want to ruin Levi's hard work. So you ignore him and go back to sitting down on your small chair in the corner and Connie can't believe you're actually acting like this. He watches you leave to sit down on a small chair and he's so pissed. He glances at Eren who seems to be in his own world, scrolling on his phone and drinking his wine and suddenly Connie feels like starting a fight because Eren's nonchalant attitude irks him. But he refrains, he has something else to do, something better. Connie takes the opportunity to shift the attention to the living room. He interrupts Sasha's karaoke performance in front of the TV, grabbing the microphone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Guys, I know someone with a much better voice in this house, so who wants to listen to some real music?" He declares and Sasha pouts but lets go of the microphone. This causes Jean to tell him to stop being so rowdy and sit down. He shakes his head telling them 'You guys don't want to miss out, I promise' and they seem a bit curious at his offer, wanting to know who it is.

You think he's already gone, ignoring you as well since he never liked you in your memory so you take a breath of fresh air and continue reading while glancing at Eren who drinks the wine slowly while scrolling on his phone, replying to texts from his manager asking him on his opinion of certain costumes. He looks dreadful you almost pity him.

"It's [Name]" Connie announces, and there's a mix of surprise and curiosity that spreads among the family members. One, because half of them didn't know you could sing and the other half is reactions from Carla who knows where this is going and connected the dots, and Jean and the rest because they had no idea that you're here, so they scoff at him and tell him to stop playing.

"Come see for yourself, then" He taunts and now everyone is really confused.

Eren hears your name being said and his head immediately perks up from his distracted state. He sets down the wine glass, his eyes narrowing as he searches the room for confirmation. He goes to the living room to see a glimpse of your face but you're not there. He then proceeds to return back to his spot disappointed but stops in his tracks as he sees you, sitting down on a small chair right behind the table he was drinking wine at. He's not like Connie, he stares at you with guilt in his eyes, you know you can't hide behind your book for so long so you set it down and look at him with an annoyed gaze as Connie and the others also turn around the corner of the kitchen, surprised to see you there.

Eren feels.. weird, he feels so pathetic, he feels like he’s gonna cry any minute now, going to full-on sob in front of everyone. Your annoyed gaze tells him everything he needs to know, he wants to fall on his knees and grovel, wants to tell you he'd do everything and anything to make it up to you, he places a hand on his mouth, almost to stop himself from revealing the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill out.

Everyone else seems to look at you with the same gaze, regret, confusion, guilt, surprise. Connie, crosses his arms, half pissed at you for what happened but also happy now that he knows you've been okay, Eren looks troubled like he doesn't know where to start, Mikasa has this face on that you can't read, Historia is in a state of surprise, Jean doesn't believe his eyes and Sasha and Ymir are so confused.

You don't know how to feel, you hate how everyone just put you on the spot, how you are indirectly ruining Levi's first time hosting this gathering, but most of all, you hate how much their presence affects you.

You don't do much but look outside at the snowstorm, and then tension grows higher and tighter with each second, you hate how they look at you like you are some animal in an enclosure, like a performer and people are patiently waiting for your next trick, it feels too awkward and makes it hard to breathe, you can't help but wonder if somehow standing in the snowstorm seems like a better option than standing in the storm brewing inside this house.

notes: first things first, thank you all for reading the part 1, I really appreciate it and to those who interacted, hope that nothing inconveniences you ever again in your life!! emphasis on ever. so here's to part two, crazy how it's 9K because I remember my milestone being 5K so how I got here is honestly mindblowing. I'm glad you liked my plot, I thought it might've been weirdly put but it seems not. so I hope you enjoy this one as well and let me know if you also want a part 3, I kind of left it on a cliffhanger...

divider credit: @hitobaby

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Note

Can i request one where reader and ghost go to the zoo as a date 💞 and bonus they get to pet capybara's too 😭 i love capybara's

Bittersweet | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader |

Chapter summary: You and Simon take a day trip to the zoo

Warnings: FLUFF, Affirming!Simon, language

Word count: 792

A/N: This popped up on my twitter feed and I HAD to add it to this blog.

“I don’t think they like me, Love.” Simon chuckled, watching the penguins waddle away into the water at the sight of him.

“Their first time seeing a ghost, I bet." You smile, earning a small nudge from your fiancé, whose face is covered by a balaclava but his eyes as bright as ever. You lean on the metal railing while Simon keeps a hand around your waist.

It's bittersweet, being here with him. You're both enjoying yourselves, but there's that familiar cloud of sadness hanging over you both, knowing that today could be the last time you get to do something like this together for a while.

Simon will be deploying back to base with the 141 in just two short days. You dread the week before he has to leave, scared and full of emotion, just wishing he could stay longer or never have to leave the peacefulness of your home.

You watch the little babies follow after their mothers, while others swim under the decorative bridge happily.

“What’s got you so quiet, darling.” Simon asks, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “These little things can’t be all that interesting.” He jokes, you smile to yourself at the sound of his voice.

You take a deep breath before answering, not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment. "I worry about you, Si." you say softly, feeling Simon's gaze turn to you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead through his mask before pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. "I always come home, don’t I? I don’t want you worrying, it’s not good for you love.”

You know he's right, he always comes back, but the thought of him being in harm's way is enough to keep you up at night. The thought of having Johnny or the Captain at your front door with Simons dogtags, is a constant fear of yours.

"I know you do," you say, “Just wish you could stay.”

"I know," Simon replies, his voice soft, almost regretful. "But duty calls, and I have to answer." You nod, understanding his dedication to his work. You also know that the time apart is just as difficult for him as it is for you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through the different animal exhibits, dragging Simon to hold various exotic creatures while never once missing the opportunity to snap pictures of him on your small camera.

Pictures you’ll eventually print out to remember back on.

As you approach the capybara exhibit, you can't contain your excitement. "Simon, look! They're so cute!" You see the sign to hold one and almost run off without him. You hand him your camera and run up to the line.

Simon smiles at your excitement, making sure to snap a photo of you getting to hold one of the pups. You can feel the warmth of the animal's fur against your skin as it nuzzles into you

"I think it likes you," Simon says, chuckling as he looks at the photo he just took. You’re smiling up at Simon in the shot, with small animal in your arms. The perfect candid moment.

He was going to make sure he keeps that one in his vest, once printed out. You can't help but grin, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. This moment, captured forever in time

As you make your way back to the car, the sun starting to set on the horizon, you hold Simon's hand tightly. You don't want to let go, not wanting to face the reality that he'll be leaving soon.

You both know that tomorrow will be spent running errands and packing for his deployment. It won't be a fun day, but it's a necessary one.

As you reach the car, Simon opens the door for you before making his way around to the driver's side. You're lost in thought, when he reaches over and takes your hand in his. You turn to look at him, seeing the small smile on his face.

“Don’t go holding any capybaras without me while i’m gone, you hear?” He chuckles, lightening the mood.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lieutenant.” You say sternly, joking.

“Oh god, Love. I don’t wanna be Lieutenant yet. I’ve got two more days.” He whines, with a hearty laugh.

You take his much larger hand, now cupping it with both of yours and bring it up to your lips. “Come back to me, Simon.” You say against it, not wanting to feel anything but him.

He watches you with more emotion in his eyes than he had ever had before in his life. He would come back to you, one way or another.

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parkerslatte · 4 months

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Deals With Our Devils || Chapter Three

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: slight injury. blood.

Part Summary: Y/N has dinner with Cassian and Nesta while Azriel tells her how he felt when she disappeared.

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Y/N sat on her bed, the feeling of it familiar. It had been two centuries since she had sat on this bed and yet, it only felt like months. Her bags remained unpacked beside her bed as she looked around her old room. Her old clothes were still hung up in the wardrobe, all still immaculately cleaned as if someone had made sure they were kept pristine in the years she had been away. The belongings she had left behind were still in her drawers, as were the various weapons she had hidden in her room. Everything felt so familiar yet so distant at the same time.

It was a matter of hours before Y/N heard more movement in the house– specifically from the bedroom above hers, the one belonging to the shadowsinger himself. A wash of nostalgia flooded Y/N as she laid down on her bed. As she heard Azriel walk around upstairs, she remembered the nights when she would march up to his bedroom to scold him for walking too loud when she was trying to sleep. Of course it only ended in her sleeping in his room after a long night of talking and laughing with one another.

She remembered the nights Azriel would come to her after a particularly hard mission or something had gone wrong. Y/N would sit with her arms around him for hours. Sometimes in complete silence, other times filled with Y/N’s voice simply talking to him to distract him. Y/N smiled at the bittersweet memory.

As she laid on her bed, he mind shifted back to Vassuryn. She already missed Floris more than she thought she would. In the past two hundred years, there hadn’t been a time longer than a couple of months where they had been apart. Despite her being his guard, Floris was her best friend.

There was a knock at Y/N’s door only moments later. She wasn’t expecting any knocks, in fact, Y/N wasn’t expecting any interaction at all. She stood from her bed and shuffled to the door, only realising until this moment how tired and drained she was from the journey. Once her hand touched the door handle, Y/N froze and her heart rate increased. What if it’s Azriel? She thought to herself. This thought was immediately disproved when she heard his footsteps from the room above.

“Y/N.” Cassian’s voice was muffled through the door. “It’s me. Um, Nesta and I are having dinner if you want to join us.”

Y/N’s hand remained on the door handle, though she made no move to open it. The hesitance in Cassian’s voice made the guilt rise in her body.

In the past two-hundred years, Y/N had become quite content with her life. She had a good job, good friends and lived in a beautiful kingdom. But she always felt that particular feeling weighing her down whenever she found herself smiling with her friends or enjoying her day. She had now come to the realisation that that feeling was guilt.

“You don’t need to join us if you don’t want to,” Cassian said. “But you are welcome.”

Y/N still didn’t open the door and listened as Cassian’s footsteps faded away. She let out a sigh once she was sure he was gone. While she had still been living in the Night Court, long before she left, Y/N had always thought of Cassian as a brother. Whenever she was having a bad day, she would sometimes seek him out for comfort. When she would train, he was always her sparring partner. And when she just wanted to get away from anything, he was there for her and would fly her anywhere in Velaris. It wasn’t until she had heard his voice, she realised how much she missed him.

With a final deep sigh, Y/N opened her bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

***

Azriel was angry. He was sure he had never been so angry in his life. Y/N had shown up after two centuries and she didn’t even seem to care how much it had affected them all. Through her whole explanation he could feel that anger beginning to bubble over the surface, yet some still slipped through the cracks.

Though he was angry for two reasons.

The anger for the second reason wasn’t directed toward her– it was directed toward himself. Despite the way he felt about her return, Azriel fought the urge to pull her into his arms and bury his head into her neck and hold her for as long as she would allow. He hated that he felt that way. She had abandoned everyone, she had abandoned him.

When Azriel left Y/N in the dining room, he left for the streets of Velaris. He couldn’t stand the thought of staying in his own room whilst Y/N was just in the room below. For years that room had stood empty, seeming locked in time. No one ever moved her things or changed the decoration. That room was off limits for everyone but Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, Mor and Amren. Azriel remembered how he once snapped at Elain for opening the door to her room years before. He apologised for it for days following.

Azriel swore he didn’t miss her. He swore he didn’t think about her. And in complete honesty he hadn’t for the past century, he had mostly moved on and accepted that she wasn’t going to come back. Yet in the past century he still found himself sitting in her room sometimes, just to think. It was the one place he knew he could be truly alone.

Azriel groaned as he let his mind slip to Y/N once again. I don’t care about her. He told himself that over and over again, he wanted to believe it but there was something stopping him. He could hear her movements in the room below. The room he was so accustomed to being silent. It was a strange adjustment.

After Azriel heard her open yet another drawer, he finally stood to his feet and swiftly left his bedroom to go down to dinner, hoping that he could avoid Y/N for the duration of her trip.

***

As Y/N stepped into the dining room, conversation ceased. Cassian and the female from before– Nesta, Cassian called her– sat at the dining table, eyes now on her.

“You came,” Cassian said, a look of genuine surprise on his face.

“I was feeling peckish,” Y/N admitted. “My journey here was long and there weren't many catering options available.”

Y/N took a seat at the table opposite both Cassian and Nesta. She tried to slow her heart beat but failed every single time. Cassian watched her movements carefully. Y/N tried to not let it affect her but she could see a sense of distrust in his eyes but another emotion was mixed with it. Nesta– who Y/N presumed was Cassian’s mate just by the way Y/N had interpreted their interactions– just watched her curiously.

Food appeared in front of Y/N and she picked at it before lifting the fork to her mouth. It was just as delicious as she remembered. Even after all these years, the house still remembered her favourite meal.

“Your name is Y/N?” Nesta spoke up, her fingers locked as she rested her head upon them, not eating the food in front of her.

“Yes,” Y/N answered, lifting her gaze to meet Nesta’s. “Don’t wear it out.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed and Y/N could see the power and authority she held within them. “The Y/N. The one who left in the middle of the night with no note or word.”

Y/N swallowed the carrot she had been eating and flicked her gaze between Nesta and Cassian. “Is this an interrogation or something? If it is, you would need many more sharp objects to get me to talk.”

Leaning back in her chair, Y/N rested her hand on her stomach. She still wore her travelling clothes and she itched to get into clean and fresh clothing.

“If the only reason you invited me to dinner was to interrogate me, then I will happily leave,” Y/N said, lifting her glass of wine to her lips.

“We don’t want to interrogate you, Y/N,” Cassian said, looking at Nesta.

“Well your little mate clearly wants to,” Y/N said, her gaze coming to rest on Nesta, who gripped her dinner knife in her hand tightly.

Before Y/N could place her glass back on the table, Nesta threw the knife and it sore through the air, its target– Y/N. Cassian watched wide-eyed, unable to process the situation.

However the knife never hit its target. Y/N simply held up her hand and the knife stopped mid-air, inches from her temple. “Are you trying to kill me, Nesta?”

“No,” Nesta replied, amusement shining in her eyes.

Y/N twisted her hand and the knife slowly rotated in the air and pointed to Nesta. Cassian growled as Y/N allowed the knife to inch toward Nesta until the tip rested centimetres from her temple. “You have guts to throw a knife at me. Back in Vassuryn, this knife would already be embedded in your skull.”

Y/N studied Nesta’s expression. She didn’t look scared at all, if anything she looked intrigued. Y/N smiled. “I like that.”

The knife clattered to the table and Nesta smiled. “I think I like you, Y/N.”

“It goes both ways, Nesta,” Y/N said.

Cassian let out a sigh. “What was that?”

“From the stories you have told me about Y/N, I wanted to see what she would do,” Nesta said. “I was curious.”

“She could have killed you!” Cassian explained.

“I trusted her not to,” Nesta said, smirking at Y/N.

Cassian rubbed his brow and leaned back in his chair. “What a way to break the ice, Nes.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and placed the glass of wine back on the table. Cassian looked at Y/N and their eyes met. Even though Cassian did not physically look older, Y/N could see the age in his eyes. Two hundred years since she had seen him and in those two centuries there were thousands of stories that Y/N was unaware of. Guilt swirled within the depths of Y/N’s stomach.

Cassian cleared his throat. “It’s really good to see you, Y/N. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.”

“No, it was justified,” Y/N said. “I left all of you and you all thought I was dead. I was expecting much worse.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Cassian said. “Even if it is just for a short time.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Y/N admitted. “Even though it is only for a short while.”

The door to the dining room was opened and the shadowsinger walked in, his face like thunder. Y/N fell silent. Azriel’s eyes scanned the room and landed on Y/N, he narrowed his eyes. From across her, Y/N could see Cassian and Nesta look between her and Azriel. She didn’t know what to say as Azriel walked further into the room, taking the seat a few down from Y/N.

“What is she doing here?” Azriel asked, his voice flat.

“I invited her to dinner,” Cassian stated. Azriel didn’t respond as he silently began to eat.

Y/N broke her gaze away from Azriel. If he was just going to sit there silently, she could easily ignore him– even though she was fully aware that he was sitting only two chairs down from her. Once Y/N made eye contact with Cassian and Nesta again, she relaxed the smallest amount.

“So, Nesta,” Y/N began, “you mentioned that Cassian had told you stories about me?”

Nesta seemed to light up while Cassian simply looked embarrassed. “He did,” Nesta answered. “He insisted that you were the best fighter he had ever known. Even better than him.”

“I didn’t say that–”

“You did,” Nesta dismissed. “He mentioned you during a training session years ago.”

Y/N hummed in amusement. “The best fighter you have ever known?”

“Nesta is twisting my words,” Cassian said, playfully glaring at her.

As Y/N opened her mouth to speak, Azriel cut her off, speaking to Cassian and Nesta as if she was not even there. “Are you training with the Valkyries tomorrow?”

Nesta shook her head. “Not tomorrow. Gwyn, Emerie and I are planning to read a new book that just came out. We’ve been excited about it for a while. Training can wait one day.”

Y/N lit up. “You read?”

“Yes!” Nesta said, perking up. “Gwyn, Emerie and I have our own little boom club of sorts.”

“What type of books do you read?” Y/N asked.

Cassian laughed. “Nothing that you would be interested in. They don’t read about battle strategies.”

Y/N frowned. “I think you are mistaking me for yourself, Cassian. I absolutely hated those books when you made me read them.”

Cassian gaped. “You said you enjoyed them!”

“I didn’t want to offend you!” Y/N defended.

Nesta watched the exchange with amusement. “You are welcome to join us.”

Y/N’s smile faltered. “I would love to, but I don’t think I will have the time. I’m supposed to be here on business.”

“So you’ve said,” Azriel muttered under his breath.

Y/N ignored him as she focused on Nesta. “But if I have the time, I’ll join you.”

“If you have the time, you are training with me,” Cassian butt in. “I want to see if that palace has been training you right. And none of that magic nonsense. This will be strictly hand to hand combat.”

Y/N smirked. “I hope you like being knocked on your arse, Cassian.”

“Really?” Azriel piped up, his voice full of barely controlled anger.

The smile on Y/N’s face vanished instantly as she turned to Azriel. “What?”

“You are just slotting yourself back in when you have been gone for two centuries,” Azriel said.

Across the table, Cassian and Nesta fell silent, watching the exchange between the two former friends.

“What am I supposed to say, Azriel?” Y/N asked.

Azriel shook his head and looked back down at his food that he had barely touched. Y/N scoffed. “Is that all then? You just provoke me and then ignore me?”

“I told you yesterday not to speak to me,” Azriel muttered.

“Yet you initiated the conversation!” Y/N exclaimed. “I genuinely don’t know what you want me to do Azriel.”

Y/N didn’t even process Azriel standing to his feet before he was walking out of the room. She knew that she should leave him but something within her made her race out of the room after him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Azriel,” Y/N snapped.

“Leave, Y/N,” Azriel responded and continued to walk down the corridor.

I won’t,” Y/N said, racing to catch up to his long strides.

As she caught up to him, she reached out and gripped his wrist tightly. The feeling of his skin on hers was familiar yet so foreign. Azriel’s ripped his arm out of her grip and spun around. Y/N was sure she had never seen such anger in his eyes. Before she knew it, Azriel had pushed her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. His shadows pinner her arms down by her sides, preventing her from moving.

Y/N looked up to meet Azriel’s eyes. They were blazing with anger and frustration. The tip of a blade touched her neck and Y/N stilled. “You would really kill me, Azriel?” Y/N asked.

The situation was nothing like the one with Nesta. With Nesta there had been a certain playfulness to it. This situation was far from it. It was fuelled by rage and frustration, not curiosity. Truthteller dug into Y/N’s skin the smallest amount and Y/N could feel a small drop of blood trickle down her neck and under her clothes. Y/N could feel her powers bubbling within her but she refused to let them show.

Still, Y/N didn’t break eye contact with Azriel. The anger in his eyes was clear but Y/N could spot the emotion behind that fire. It was full of sadness and pain.

“If you are going to kill me, Azriel, then do it,” Y/N said, her voice shaking.

When Y/N had left two hundred years ago, she never would have imagined that two centuries later, Azriel would be holding her at knife point.

“Why would you leave me, Y/N?” Azriel asked, his hand holding truthteller shook, causing another drop of blood to trickle down her neck.

Y/N looked into his eyes. That raging fire within them dimmed and the pain and sadness was all that remained.

“Those weeks after you left,” Azriel began, lowering the blade from her neck, “I expected you to show up at my door while I was recovering. Every single time Rhys, Cassian or Mor walked in, I was disappointed. I never let any of them help and change my bandages because you were always the one to do that. You wounded me, Y/N.”

Y/N stiffened under his firm hold. For a brief moment she broke eye contact. She had never thought her disappearance would have affected Azriel this much.

“You left a wound on my heart when you left without a word. I mourned you. I believed you to be dead,” Azriel said. Even his voice now held that pain and sadness he had carefully hidden behind that barrier of rage and fury.

Azriel pushed back from the wall and looked at Y/N, his eyes glancing down at the blood on her neck, he showed no emotion at it. “The sooner you arrange matters with Rhys, the sooner you can go back to your kingdom. I will remain civil with you until then for the sake of everyone around us. But just so you know, if Vassuryn ever needs help in the future, believe me when I tell you that I will not go to help. Once you leave here, Y/N, I never want to see you again. I have already mourned you, I will not do it again.”

With that, Azriel turned his back and walked down the corridor and out of sight. Y/N remained against the wall, she had made no effort to move. His words had cut her deeper than any blade ever would. Y/N’s breath came out in ragged pants and she tried to process everything that had just happened. With a shaky hand, she pressed it against where truthteller had been held against her skin. Her fingers came away bloody.

“Y/N,” Cassian said softly.

Y/N looked up from her hand and her gaze rested on Cassian and Nesta, both with sympathetic expressions on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Nesta asked.

Y/N only glanced down the corridor where Azriel had disappeared and back to her hand.

“Did you see what happened?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Cassian shook his head. “Did Az do that?”

Y/N wiped the blood on her fingers onto her jacket. “Yes, but it's fine. I probably deserved it.”

As Cassian went to open his mouth, Y/N rushed past him. “I’m going to get an early night before my meeting with Rhys tomorrow. I will see you both later.”

Y/N continued on her way down the corridor and up the stairs until she made it to her bedroom. When she stepped inside, she didn’t feel the nostalgia she did when she stepped in it earlier. Instead she only felt dread. The quicker she sorted things out with Rhys, the quicker she could leave– and hopefully that was soon.

***

The moment Azriel was out of sight, he let out a breath and slouched against the wall. The rage within him was not directed at Y/N anymore– it was directed at himself. Azriel could see the small amount of fear that presented itself in Y/N’s eyes when he held truthteller up to her neck. Azriel was not even sure what came over him, he was just so angry and frustrated at that moment.

What made him hate himself even more was the wound he had inflicted upon her. In his whole life, Azriel had never inflicted a purposeful wound upon his friends. Yet he had on Y/N.

Azriel shook his head and continued down the hallway. Y/N is not my friend. He thought.

Yet he still felt the weight of the guilt upon his shoulders. That blood that trickled down her neck was caused by him. Before he would have burnt villages down if he even saw so much of a scratch upon her skin. This time, he was the cause.

Azriel was not even sure where he was going. As soon as he left Y/N in the corridor, he had walked away, any second longer and he would be falling at her feet, begging for forgiveness. Azriel scoffed. He had nothing to be sorry for. Y/N is the one who should be sorry. She had abandoned him and her family only to find a new one in Vassuryn. They were apparently replaceable.

The route Azriel walked was familiar to him, he had walked it hundreds of times before, even without meaning to. His feet led him down the corridor with now one occupant. Azriel slowed as he walked down it. Light shone from under Y/N’s door. Azriel came to a stop.

For two centuries he was used to the room being vacant but now he knew that she resided inside once again, it made his heart skip a beat. Azriel silently listened. Y/N’s heartbeat was slow and steady, a clear indication that she was asleep. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about her. Before when Azriel fell asleep beside her, he would be eased into a sleep void of nightmares just from listening to her heartbeat.

Despite himself, a ghost of a smile appeared on Azriel’s face.

He was not sure what had overcome him when Azriel reached out and touched the door handle. Before he could stop himself he quietly pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The candles were burning on the dresser and Azriel stepped forward to blow them out. He tried not to look in Y/N’s direction but failed as he spared a quick glance.

In her sleep Y/N looked relaxed and it made Azriel’s chest tighten. Now he saw how much stress and worry she carried on her face. He assumes that some of that was caused by him. She was wearing a simple nightshirt and the blankets were bunched up at her waist, though Azriel could see the goosebumps littering her skin.

His feet carried him closer to the bed and he reached out to touch the soft blanket bunched at her waist. Azriel recognised it as the gift Mor had given her for Solstice one year. It had been so long ago that Azriel had forgotten. He pulled it up until it rested below her chin. Y/N seemed to hum quietly at the added warmth to her body as she snuggled into the blanket. As she shifted, Azriel now had a clear view of the wound he had inflicted on her. It was healing but it was still an angry red. The blood had been washed away but Azriel could still see it in his mind. Like the blood, he wished he could wash it himself.

Azriel stepped back and back away to where the candles were, the only reason why he had entered her room. He blew them out one by one until the room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the small gap in the curtains, shining directly onto Y/N’s face.

Azriel lingered by the door for a moment longer. A singular shadow sneaking away to join Y/N at her bedside. Azriel hastily summoned it back and stepped out into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind him. He took off down the hallways and up to his bedroom.

Once he was inside, Azriel sighed. He didn’t know why he did that. He didn’t care.

I don’t care about Y/N. It was the mantra that Azriel said to himself. It was true. He wanted it to be true. He shouldn’t care about someone who abandoned him– her family.

Azriel huffed and lowered himself to his bed. He didn’t care about Y/N. The sooner she left the better. But as he tried to fall asleep, the only thing on his mind was Y/N and that scared look in her eyes as he pointed his blade to her neck.

Azriel’s night was restless.

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bosbas · 5 months

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Chapter 8: no one wanted to play with me as a little kid

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (sort of. it's like pre idiots in love. on the cusp of idiots in love), fluff (so much fluff)

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: you know what. let's pretend all of the ages/years make sense. kisses to all of you!

December 4, 1809 - Dearest, loveliest, most wonderful Y/I (your initial),

I am so sorry I have not written in almost two weeks, though I did enjoy the very strongly worded letter you sent me reminding me of this fact and demanding a response. I wish I had a better excuse, but truthfully, this term has just been hectic. But to answer the question you so politely asked: yes, I will be home in time for Christmas, and I will be staying for New Year's and your birthday (your birthday is not even two weeks after Christmas, darling, give me some credit!). Though I rather think you owe me a present instead of the other way around after calling me an oblivious toad.

As an apology for my silence, I've attached my reading list for the courses I am taking at Oxford this term so you can also read them. I am sure you will be able to find them in your library but do let my mother know if you cannot find them. We should also have copies in our library. I will be heading back to Aubrey Hall in ten days to see the lot of you, and I will eagerly be awaiting all of your thoughts on this term's reading.

Yours, B

You couldn't help the excited gasp that left your lips as soon as you were finished reading Benedict's letter. You hadn't even managed to leave your entryway before you hastily opened the envelope addressed to you, blurting out a thank you to your slightly startled butler, who had been taken aback by your eager rifling of the mail.

Now that Benedict was at Oxford, you barely got to see him at all, so you were more than a little excited when you read that you would only have to wait ten more days to see him. The three weeks he was home for the winter holiday were the bulk of your in-person interactions with him for the year, as had been the norm for the past three years he had been at university.

It wasn't all bad, though. Proof of that lay in a box in your bedroom filled with every single letter or note you had received from Benedict while he was away at Oxford. Even the short ones, when he was studying for an exam and barely had time to write a coherent response, had found a place inside your box. You supposed the box contained most of your friendship with Ben over the past three years, neatly organized by date from oldest to newest and separated by term.

Sometimes, you found yourself missing Benedict more than usual, and you would read through your favorite of his letters. Often, it ended up being the shortest notes that were the sweetest and ones you would read over and over. Even years after he had sent the letters, you found comfort in his messy scrawl after an afternoon playing Pall Mall without Benedict and his typical banter. But once you saw him at Aubrey Hall every December, it would be like no time had passed at all. You kept him up to date on everything happening at home with your family and his, and he told you wild stories from his time at Oxford.

And although you enjoyed hearing about his life, it was also bittersweet. You were so jealous of him, wishing more than anything that you could go to university, too. But alas, the pesky issue of your gender prevented you from furthering your education. You got as close as you could, though. Benedict would send you all of his readings every term, and you enjoyed discussing the books you read at length when he returned for the holiday season.

This is not to say that your conversations about literature and art were limited to your in-person time. In fact, most of your correspondence was about the books you were reading or the galleries you had gone to. Ben could spend pages and pages talking about a particular part of a painting, the way the artist had captured the way light filtered through the trees. And you loved every bit of it, engaging in your usual discussions. In a way, if you ignored how much you missed him, it was lovely to have a physical representation of your friendship.

However, you would soon stop being constrained to receiving correspondence from Ben every few days, and you could simply knock on his door if you were particularly interested in talking about an aspect of your book. Your time at Aubrey Hall had become your favorite time of year, three weeks of daily interactions with your best friend being the absolute best birthday present you could've ever asked for.

But this year was different. This was the last time you would have to say goodbye at the end of the holidays, seeing as Benedict was graduating in the spring and returning from Oxford permanently. To say you were over the moon was an understatement. You could barely wait to spend hours in his studio watching him paint again or reading aloud to him under the shade of the tree in your backyard on particularly warm days.

---

August 12, 1799 - Y/I, I thought you would like this one. Yours, B

Bypassing Alex and Anthony having a heated debate about who was better at billiards, Benedict headed straight in your direction across the garden, ignoring Daphne, Colin, Theo, and Bastian, who had been playing some team game that devolved into an argument. Benedict patted your head as he came by to sit beside you on the grass, momentarily drawing your attention away from the massive book on your lap.

Grabbing the book from your lap and transferring it to his own, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

You let out an excited squeal, shaking Benedict's nearest arm with both hands. "It's amazing, Ben! An entire book about flowers, who knew? I've spent hours looking at it already, and I'm not even halfway through! It's got so much information I could die. It's incredible. Thank you so much." Though it was left unsaid, Ben knew these were hours you would have otherwise spent alone. The twins were especially adamant about not having you play with them, and Alex and Anthony were too caught up in their never-ending competitions to pay any attention to you. With your mother and his being occupied with the toddlers, Francesca, Cass, and Eloise, who had only just begun to walk and talk, you and Ben were truly the only odd ones out. But it was no bother to him. He loved when you read aloud to him, and you would happily listen to him talk about his sketches for hours on end, something he could not say about any other member of the Bridgerton-Beaumont cohort.

Ben could only laugh fondly at your excitement, internally very proud that he had found a book you really enjoyed. "It's called an encyclopedia. There are loads of them about just about anything and everything in the world," he told you, leafing through the book himself. Gently pushing the book back in your direction, he prodded, "Well, go on then. Show me your favorite flowers so far."

Grabbing the book, you hastily turned the pages until you reached the flowers, starting with the letter 'd.' Standing up, you rushed to the nearest corner of the garden and dug around for a few seconds, coming back with a bunch of small white flowers clutched in your small hands.

Ben let out a short laugh, but you quickly shushed him, whining, "Stop it! It'll make sense in a second, I promise."

"I didn't say anything!" responded Ben defensively, putting his hands up in the air but unable to conceal the smile you had elicited from him.

"Okay. Look at the page. The daisies. They're also called Bellis perennis, but that's in Latin. We have them here in the garden! Isn't that lovely?" you said excitedly, placing the flowers beside Ben.

"Oh, that is quite nice, Y/N," he responded, picking one of the daisies up and placing it behind your ear, eliciting a bright smile from you. "Did you know that a Violet is a type of flower? And so is a Primrose."

"You mean both our mums have flower names? That's so fun. I wish everyone could have a flower name," you responded, excited to have learned new information.

"You could always give your daughters flower names," Ben suggested, enjoying the pure joy you were getting out of this.

"Well, before I have daughters, I would have to get married. And I don't want to do that! I just want to keep reading books. I want to read every single encyclopedia in the world!" you exclaimed, reaching your arms as high as they could go.

Ben laughed, highly amused by your antics. "Just like me, then. Except instead of reading it's painting," he responded as he laid down fully on the grass, looking up at the sky and feeling particularly thankful that someone understood how he felt. On the other hand, you took the opportunity to dump all of the flowers you had picked onto his torso, arranging and rearranging them into different designs. He could only laugh, not at all bothered that his shirt would surely be dirty now, just happy to watch you enjoy yourself.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke up as you tried unsuccessfully to stack the flowers on top of each other. "That's perfect, then. We can get married, I can read, and you can paint, and we can have a daughter and give her a flower name."

"That sounds wonderful! I'm glad that's sorted," he laughed, lifting his head to find you flashing a toothy grin. "D'you like the name Daisy for our daughter, then?"

"That's lovely! And you can paint her a painting of a daisy for her room!" you responded eagerly. Benedict hummed in assent, busy imagining the dynamics of a blissful imaginary marriage.

---

January 3, 1810 - Y/I, Happiest of birthdays, darling. Come downstairs, where I have a proper gift and card waiting for you. Yours, B

As you came downstairs, you already feared the fate that awaited you. Every year, your birthday would begin with a very extreme and frankly excessive snowball fight involving all the Bridgerton-Beaumont children. You could trust no one. Alliances would easily crumble under pressure, and people were just as likely to betray their siblings as they would someone from the other family. You and Benedict, ordinarily inseparable, could become sworn enemies in the span of two snowballs. You couldn't even trust sweet Hyacinth, only seven years old, to be loyal to any team, seeing as she was an outstanding double agent, a lesson you had all learned the hard way. It was absolute chaos, and you loved every second of it. It didn't matter how old you were; this was always the best part of your birthday.

As soon as you stepped outside, a snowball the size of your fist hit your right shoulder. Slowly turning toward the perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes once you saw it was Gregory, who had helped you defeat Bastian and Francesca in one fell swoop last year. Clearly, that alliance was gone, and you would have to find someone else to rely on this year.

Since it was your birthday, the fight officially started when you threw the first snowball, and this year, you chose to throw it at Cassandra, your own sister, who had annoyed you at dinner yesterday by incessantly flinging peas at you. Once the tightly packed ball left your hand, all hell broke loose. You were hit in the stomach and leg simultaneously as you fired snowballs in every direction you could, laughing as you did.

You briefly ducked behind a tree trunk, needing a moment to breathe. You took advantage of the fact that you weren't a target to form a massive snowball. You carefully stepped away from behind the trunk, checking that the coast was clear. Without a second thought, you flung the snowball as hard as you could in the direction of the person closest to you.

Unfortunately, it hit Benedict straight in the face, blinding him for a few moments. Your mouth hung open, trying not to laugh because you knew you had packed quite a bit of force into your throw. You ran to Ben's side, apologizing as much as possible without bursting into laughter. He cleared the snow from his eyes and turned to you slowly, an evil grin forming on his face.

"I believe you have just declared war, Miss Beaumont," he said finally.

You screamed and ran in the opposite direction, knowing he would be absolutely merciless. You couldn't even look back, not wanting to slow down. After a few seconds of frantic sprinting, you felt Ben tackling you onto a massive pile of snow. Both of you were laughing hysterically while trying to catch your breath. He turned you over so you were lying down side by side, both of you panting heavily, looking up at the winter sky.

"I miss you," you said finally, turning your head toward him, only to find that he was already looking at you. He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you tightly before he helped you up and brushed the snow off of your coat.

"I know. I miss you, too. But it'll only be like this for a short while longer, and then you can come round every day and read to me while I paint, yeah?" he said, lifting your chin to look at him.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heartbeat quicken, his brown eyes not letting yours go. Your eyes flickered to his mouth briefly, your lips parting slightly. Looking back at his eyes, you saw something flash in them that you couldn't quite parse, an expression you hadn't seen before. Finally, you nodded, letting him pull you into him and kiss your forehead, enjoying the warmth and comfort you felt as you were wrapped tightly in his arms.

---

September 17, 1805 - Y/I, I can't believe you had a book about the exact artist I was talking about! I'll pop by yours later to say a proper thank you. Yours, B

Benedict walked into your sitting room, sprawling on the couch before you with his arm behind his head, silently waiting for you to look up from your book. But you had just gotten to an exciting part, and your eyes remained glued to the page, ignoring your best friend's attempt to get your attention.

You heard him huff and muttered a soft "Just a second, Ben" as your eyes raced across the page, eager to know what happened next. In response, he slid further down the couch and crossed his arms, eliciting a laugh from you and finally drawing you away from your book.

"You were barely waiting ten seconds, Benedict!" you exclaimed, secretly pleased he was so eager to see you. He was leaving for Oxford in a few weeks, and although you were trying not to think about the reality of him going, you were acutely aware that you would soon be unable to see him every day.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, responding with a teasing, "It felt like ten years!"

In recent months, the two of you had become inseparable. Your days were spent reading next to him as he painted, listening to him talk about his most recent artworks, or going for nature walks if you found yourself in Aubrey Hall. Anything to keep him close by before he left for Oxford, you reasoned. Though you couldn't help the growing affection, you were feeling, finding it impossible to look away when he tousled his hair just so and being a bit too pleased every time he complimented you. Every handsome smile or cheeky wink he sent your way lit you up inside, melting your heart just a little bit.

The problem was, and of course, there was a problem, that Benedict was always like this. Nothing about his demeanor had changed; your friendship was still the same as it had always been. Except now you found yourself spending a little too much time in the mornings making sure your hair looked good in case he popped by unannounced. Regardless, you knew Ben did not reciprocate your affections, so you tried to ignore these feelings as best as you could, folding them up very small and tucking them neatly in the corner of your heart for later examination.

Now, you found yourself on a couch against a wall of Benedict's studio, reading Romeo and Juliet as he was quietly sketching. This was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. Spend quiet afternoons together, reading and painting, enjoying each other's company. You took a moment to look at him as he scrunched his nose, unhappy with a certain aspect of the sketch.

He sighed and looked up at you, nodding toward your book. "What has Shakespeare got to say today?"

"That marriage is a death sentence," you replied, voice deadpan.

Ben burst into laughter. "Oh, come off it. It can't be that bad in real life. That's only a play! Besides, you've still got a while before you have to think about that," he tried to reason with you.

"Well, maybe. But it just sounds so unappealing. I want to do this. What we're doing now. I want to keep doing it. I don't want to be a wife! I just want to read and study," you argued.

Benedict stood up, coming to sit beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, darling. I'm sorry," but he knew you had more to say.

You groaned, pushing your forehead into his shoulder. "I just don't think I'll ever be happy if I'm forced to marry. And I most likely will be, knowing my mother. She'd rather die than have one of her daughters turn into a spinster," you huffed, missing the sympathetic look you got from Ben. "And who will my husband be? A clueless man with no interest in me beyond my ability to be a good wife? I cannot imagine a worse fate."

---

May 8, 1810 - Y/I, I'll keep this one short, seeing how I'll be properly back in a few days! I've been quite busy with graduation, but I'm excited to come home. Yours, B

You smiled as you placed the last letter you had received from Benedict back in your box. The collection was complete. Three years of correspondence between the two of you finally come to an end. You carefully closed the box and returned downstairs, where a big family gathering was occurring in the garden.

As soon as you stepped outside, Ben was at your side, chatting your ear off about one thing or another. He had barely left you alone since he had been back, granting you only a few minutes to yourself, but you couldn't complain. You wrapped an arm around his torso as you walked back to the garden table.

"Oh, you look so darling!" cried Violet, cooing at the two of you.

"You're proper adults now! Both of you! How the time has passed," your mother added, reaching out to hold Violet's hand.

Benedict could only smile, too happy to be back at your side to focus on anything else. He had missed you loads while he was at Oxford, but having your arm around him now, he realized just how much he needed you. Ben placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, unable to help himself as you sat down at the table. He sat right next to you, taking one of your hands into his own so he could play with your fingers as you chatted with Primrose and Violet.

Oxford had been a riot, to be sure, but he was so glad to come home to you.

—

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ladybirdswritings · 5 months

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Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

TW - PTSD, mentions of abuse.

Summary - You realize that maybe working with a man as intimidating as Miguel O’Hara just isn’t for you… Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

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six

You feel out of place. Stuffy, anxious, like a walking corpse with heavy eyes and an empty stomach. You’ve convinced yourself that once you waltz up those stairs, everyone is going to turn to you. Point and laugh as Mr. O’Hara rips you to tiny, pretty pieces with those awfully sharp teeth of his.

You took the stairs today because the glass elevator seems too dreadful. Each floor rising just getting you closer and closer to your demise, out in the open for the world to see.

You only have one flight left before you know it, though. The bittersweet stamina your body remembers from the times you used to twirl upon a silvered stage. You frown, maybe definitely purposely going slower up the final steps.

Your morning has been hectic. Your curls were in a battle with your hands and the straightener, reflecting the heat away like they were made of ice. Your hair is frizzy, and your ribbon has a tear in it. The sole of your boot is mere threads away from ripping apart and you’re terribly hungry. You had no time to eat, though.

The air constricts you as you reach the tip of the castle where the fanged creature with dark, unforgiving eyes dwells. Your body is overtaken with soft trembles yet you do your best to keep composed. Through the glass door and onto the shiny tiles.

The ambush doesn’t come… you ease.

Your eyes scan through the cold air that greets you. To your complete surprise, your Christmas tree still stands, covered in its pink bows and golden lights. You doubt you’ll ever be as confused as you are right now again at any other moment in your life.

Your eyes wander to the front desk where Cindy is seated, she smiles and nods and you swiftly make your way to her. Mary Jane wears glasses far too big for her petite face, clicking and clacking on her ivory keyboard.

“Hey!” She greets, handing you your bag of ribbons immediately.

It hasn’t been lit up to ash, it shocks you.

“Hey… is um…” thankfully she understands and you don’t have to say much more.

Christ, you’re treating him like he’s a monster tucked underneath your bed.

“Nope, he’s been out all morning… super weird between you and I, he’s never late!”

You believe her, but that doesn’t matter… all the tension in your body floats away like a cloud returning itself to the sky. The breath you’ve been holding since you conquered each step leaves you, and you finally feel as though you can breathe again.

“Uh oh, what’d you do?” Mary Jane inquires as she takes a sip of her peppermint tea.

You can only manage to shake your head, mumbling your gratitude softly and dragging the bag to the tree. The ladder still stands tall, taunting you with rusty screws.

“Hi pretty.” You whisper to the giant thing, hand burying itself in the tote to pluck out yet another pink ribbon. Knowing he’s gone, you work with ease. Gentle on the ladder, the ballerina in your heart still dances even though you cannot. Your balance is impeccable as you blanket the back of the tree now. It doesn’t take long.

Without him here, the office is alive. It’s happy. The women chat as they would while getting manicures at a salon. They giggle and swoon over Mr. O’Hara which is to be nothing more than expected. It makes you giggle. He must feel so high and mighty being surrounded by people bowing at the beck of his hand. Yet when his thumb doesn’t suffocate them, they blossom like roses.

They’re lovely, fun to listen to while you tinker with the tree. This is nice.

This is nice and the laughter and joy and “Santa, Baby” purring on the radio lasts all but an hour before dead silence and gasps soon flood your ears.

You chill, freezing up with your hand in the bag of bows. Your body is kneeling before the tree, the gold shining like starlight on your pretty features. Someone lowers the music quickly, and the man who simultaneously suffocates all the fun with just his presence alone walks through his elevator door.

You hear it ring, you hear the heavy clicks of his shoes and the adjust of his tie. Everyone is dead silent, now. Tense. Back to the normal that is known here.

You? You’re frozen, your head still bowed. You’re afraid of him, maybe. It is rare for you, you’re afraid of no one. Not anymore. Not after… well, it’s a promise you made to yourself.

Closer…

Closer..

Closer his boots near, until?

They stop.

They stop right beside you and god, it is right then in that moment that you’d rather run out and lay in the snow as you’re certain it would keep you warmer than you are in this moment, beneath him.

“You, come with me.” Is all he offers before marching forward on his path.

You gulp, maybe you misheard? A cautious glance at Cindy’s wide, sympathetic eyes and you know all you need to. This cruel, cruel man. He let you blanket his stupid, limp tree in ribbons, he let you get comfortable like a mouse under a warm lamp— not knowing there’s a serpent hiding away… ready to strike. Ready to tell you he’s letting you go.

Cindy raises her brows, as if rushing you to do something. To unfreeze. You dig your nails into your palm, hard enough to snap you back and you’re soon up on your feet. Each step you take, you look at nothing but your worn shoes.

The oak door is held open by him. They’re all staring, eyes like daggers stuck in your back.

“Time to actually do your work, ladies.” He commands, they comply immediately. Does he have a spy? Perhaps a meter that starts ringing when there’s too much fun…

The oak door slams, trapping you— the little mouse into his warm den. The sound startles you, making your eyes fall shut.

Keep it together…

He walks past you swiftly, scent of rich firewood and coffee intoxicating your body so much so that if you weren’t so horrified right now, your mouth would water.

“Sit.” He commands as he takes his place upon his leather throne.

You let out a shaky breath, making your way forward with all the force you have left within you. Maybe you should just blurt out an apology and book it straight for the highest hills you can find…

The zombie you are, dressed in clothes you used to wear for rehearsal as it’s all you have. Ivory tights and pom pom boots, a pink skirt and wrapped shirt. You rehearse the moves of walking and sitting like a dance you’ve danced before. The leather is cold when it engulfs you, unpleasant.

You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at the remnants of the French manicure Rio gave you last week. Waiting for it, expecting, remembering. Your head is hung in shame, in submission.

“You look nervous.” He observes.

You stay silent, reluctant to admit how true that really is.

You feel him, you feel him like fire on your skin. His eyes demanding your attention, but you can’t. You won’t. It isn’t good enough for him. He leans forward,

“You’re new here, but if you cared to ask my girls what my first rule is? You’d know that you look at me when I talk to you, do you understand?” He commands, and like a ballerina does, you mend and comply. Heated as your face as becomes, rapid as your heart flutters, and nervous as your being is… your eyes follow the order and shoot up to face his own.

They are dark, scorching into you like hellfire, an incomparable inferno. You want to shrink, but you won’t. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Rule two. Answer me.” He commands.

“Yes…” you whisper.

He’s satisfied, at least you hope. It certainly seems that way. He leans back in his leather chair and keeps his eyes locked on you. It is then you’re certain he’s a sadist. It’s obvious, obvious by the way you press your knees together and pick at your polish that you’re uncomfortable. He doesn’t care.

The silence is dreadful, heavy and suffocating. You try your best to hold it, stare into his eyes and ignore the fire burning your skin from the bone but god— it’s too much.

“I didn’t know!” You blurt out, half hoping he is deaf yet also half hoping he understands what you mean.

His eyes narrow and you’re certain you’ve made a fool of yourself again. You let your gaze fall and the subtle sound you hear under his breath makes you snap them right back up.

“I know. Keep it that way.” He forces through clenched, sharp teeth.

If he wasn’t so horrifying, so cruel, you’d feel sorry for him. His words, the subject, it’s painful for him to utter— to think of. You can tell.

The silence blankets the room again, and your eyes beg him to let you glance anywhere but at him. You’re desperate though, the bigger part of you. Desperate to suffer here, instead of home. Maybe he knows just how desperate you are, maybe he’s using it. Maybe he’s delaying the inevitable, maybe there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.

It seems like forever, but he eventually speaks.

“I want you to do something for me.”

Pack your shit and leave…

You finish his words within the confines of your mind, prepared for them. They never come, no… what follows only shocks you.

“I want a tree. A small one for my office. Red and blue ribbons, and soccer ornaments.”

What?

This man, this enigma of a man seems to be the most capable creature alive and able to make your head spin like a record. You shake your head, confused…

“What?” It’s a soft whisper, weak.

“Rule three, I don’t repeat myself. You heard me.”

You did. You did and you still don’t slightly believe it. You’re dreaming, that must be it. You fell on the stairs on the way up and you’ve been tucked away in a coma.

No. It can’t be true. Sure, if anyone on this earth would be intimidating enough to make you truly feel their gaze in a coma, it would be him… but it’s far too real, too intense to simply exist within your imagination.

“I— can do that, sir.”

He only nods, once. Voice louder now, commanding the room, commanding you.

“I want it done by tonight, on my desk before you leave.”

You nod, mind still jogging to keep up with this conversation, to understand it. Your brows are furrowed, eyes searching for an invisible answer around the room. They land back on him and it’s as if he was waiting for them to do just that. A raise of his brow and he gives you an expression you can’t quite understand.

“You’re dismissed.”

Oh.

He talks to you like you’re just a dull-brained creature, incapable of understanding a word he says, an idiot. You stand on your feet and then swiftly turn your back on him, which is somehow more frightening than looking him in the eyes.

That must be it, you suppose. You’re grateful. Baffled but, grateful. You won’t test your luck, you won’t question it. Perhaps Cindy was onto something with her analysis of him. He’s just not— soft.

No, he’s in control and commanding and intimidating and far far easier to deal with than the cavalry at home. Okay… okay, you can manage this.

Even so? You can’t walk quicker to the door, it seems— hurrying out like the inferno from his eyes is just behind you. It is. The oak creaks softly behind you, and you huff as you make it out to the other side, surviving to tell the story of how you evaded the beast. Mary Jane and Cindy’s eyes are wide and waiting.

You only offer a thumbs up and nod, then get straight to work.

You’re happy for the excuse to waltz the city during this lovely time of year. Especially when you’re not paying for the things you buy. The streets are lined with snowfall surrounding cobble pavement, brick roads and sparkling trees that reach the sky. There are smiling St. Nick’s on every street corner and employees dressed as elves in every small shop. It smells of coffee and chocolate chips.

You’re not at all dressed for December. Your check hasn’t come in just yet, you’ll buy warm clothes when it does. Jack Frost is a bite on your shoulder, cheeks and nose pink and chilled from the snow. You’re trembling.

That doesn’t matter though because you’re also dancing, right now. Dancing like you did as a ballerina; that equates to simply following orders. It isn’t until the warmth of the small gift shop nearby embraces you that you ease. Warmth crawls up your spine and burns Jack off of it. You can think, now. You can stop following orders, stop dancing.

Your trembling fingertips are numb, grazing over the snow globes, ribbons and ornaments. Hmm…

Soccer…

Perhaps he’s a fan…

Blue and red ribbon…

Your teeth chatter as you grab a wicker basket and collect each color. You find lights to compliment them and a dark, lonely little tree by the windowsill. Fitting. Ornaments, then. Soccer balls and goals, flags and tennis shoes. It becomes more apparent as you fill your basket that this is not for him.

Cautiously, you grab your cracked phone and find your watch history. The thumbnail, the picture from last night. Where the grinning ghost sits on his shoulders, she’s adorned in a socccer jersey. No, the tree is not for him at all…

It’s for her.

Sadness swells at the base of your throat but you force it down with a gulp. Gentle thing you are, always so empathetic with the world around you. Even the cruelest parts.

Yet, his words from earlier only echo in your mind.

Keep it that way.

Maybe you’re stupid or maybe you’ve just never been good at following orders when there’s not a wire hanger involved… but you just can’t.

Your eyes glaze over the wooden ornaments stand and land upon a dark oak frame with a vacant place for a picture. You know just what you’ll do…

Time passes quickly and you are back at the office soon. The tree is small, but you handle it with care and adoration. You tie the ribbons by hand and place them snugly upon the blossomed branches. The lights are a mixture of red, gold and blue. The star is gold too and it compliments the rest nicely. The ornaments are small, hanging like icicles from the tips of each branch. Overall? It’s perfect. Missing one, final touch though.

Everyone has left, the office lights dim. It’s just you and the grinch who’s steadily growing a heart. Maybe not three sizes bigger just yet, but you’ll take even a quarter. It’s big enough for him to keep you at least… for now.

You hurry over to the front desk where you print the picture, ink staining the colors vivid and bright.

Her smile was so pretty…

You cut the excess paper and grab the photo frame ornament, adorning it with the heart warming picture of him and his little girl. After you clean your mess, you place the final touch upon his tiny tree and revel in your masterpiece. Perfection, all you ever strive for.

But now? Back into the devil’s den.

You would be lying if you said your heart isn’t pounding as you approach the oak door, but as soon as you make it there— you steady yourself.

You remember who you are, what you have survived.

One cold man who you won’t know in a few months can’t take that. Your fire.

The tree is stable in your hands, but it needs both of them to balance upright. With your foot, you knock.

No answer.

You knock again…

And, no answer.

With a huff, you risk the possibility of angering the beast more than he usually is and use your bum to push the large thing open. You’re very much annoyed to find him alert and well, glasses resting on his face as he types away at a document on his laptop. The square thing looks like a toy compared to his hands.

Christ.

He doesn’t regard you, he doesn’t need to. He already gave his orders. You’re careful to maintain balance as you gently bring the tree to his desk and place it to the corner of him. A switch of a button and it glows. You catch him then, glancing just once at it before continuing his work. The lights reflect in his glasses.

You tidy up a few spots and ribbons that shifted from transfer and then step back to admire. You’re satisfied. You don’t bother saying goodbye, he’s immersed enough as is and you’d rather refrain from unnecessary interaction with the heatmiser.

You smooth your skirt as you make your way out, ribbons bouncing on your locks. The door shuts behind you, you’re safe again.

The tiles squeak as your boots kiss them, gathering your bag and phone— you get ready to leave. Near the stairs and then— oh, right. You forgot to unplug the tree.

You know well how much of a disaster it would be if you set the floor on fire. With a huff, you make your way back and check the moisture with two fingers. All is well. You bend over and unplug the golden shimmer to make the top floor even darker, hearing the oak door shut swiftly as you do. It makes you jump.

Just when you almost missed him.

His steps are heavy… heavier than usual. Quicker too.

He must be tired, anxious for his bed. He’s filthy rich. He probably has the biggest bed with dozens of pillows and the softest of sheets. You wish your bed was like that…

You turn.

Maybe one day you’ll have a bed just as— oh!

Two hands case you up against the wall beside your ribbon tree, and all you see in front of you is that look.

That. Look.

It’s back.

Monstrous, horrifying, furious with you.

The darkness, the redness in his eyes is clearer now. The veins in his neck and the tension in his shoulders and jaw.

He raises his hand, you flinch by habit. Grasped tightly in it is the picture, except now— the glass has been shattered and it’s cutting into his palms. Your eyes widen, hands reaching out to help him. He pulls his palm back before you can, moving his head so that his eyes are staring directly into yours.

That look.

You chill.

“¿Qué carajo es esto!? Huh!? Tell me!” He growls, voice guttural, loud, horrifying— and it is then that you realize now more than ever that you truly are the mouse. And he? He’s the serpent.

With a grunt, he throws the glass ornament with his smiling, pretty girl across the room. It shatters even more once the wall finds it. He cases you in again, and you know now just how trapped you truly are. Just you and him on this lonely floor. He’s angry. You’re shaking.

You’ve seen this anger before. In her… in Katerina.

A gulp, maybe you’re a fish because your mouth bobs open far too many times to explain and yet you can’t. speak. The words catch themselves on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes can’t take it, they fall shut as you slow your breathing. There’s panic on the horizon. Memories so familiar to this flood back like an ocean of poison in your mind.

His index and thumb move to grip your chin, so angry and yet his grip is only firm, not painful. He tugs your face enough so that your eyes shoot open again.

“Did I tell you to do this?” His voice, perhaps it’s scarier now. It’s dark, low, composed like a cap on shaken pop.

“You knew better, girl! You knew better!” Her voice now… Katerina’s. Echoing in your head.

You’re suffocating, the air around you is too thin. You can’t breathe, you can’t look at those eyes.

No, no no. You’re panicking. His features blur as tears pool in your sight. He tugs your chin again, they fall onto his fingertips.

“You already forgot my rules, huh? You stupid, stupid girl…” he spits.

“You ungrateful, stupid girl.” She screams against your skull.

“I told you to keep it that way, didn’t I? Díos mio! What’s the matter with you?” He’s exasperated. He’s asking, eyes commanding an answer from you. You don’t know.

What is the matter with you?

Like the mythology of Rogue, it’s like everything you touch withers by your hand.

After everything Katerina gave you… after he took a chance letting you work here.

Your throat constricts as you gaze into the serpent’s eyes. Your heart is a hummingbird’s then, fighting so hard to fill that clouded brain with oxygen. You’re dizzy. You’re remembering.

You can’t. You need to move you need—

You can’t stop yourself, hand shooting up to dig your nails into the skin of his wrist. His eyes shoot toward the spot and he hisses, pulling it back. You take the chance to escape.

Under his arm and you stumble forward, hugging your midsection with a gasp, desperate for a lick of oxygen to bless your burning lungs.

A sob takes over you, but a close of your eyes and a quick inhale of the firewood and coffee that intoxicates you and you remember just where you are. You’re in his office. You’re not with her. You’re here. You’re here and you don’t want to be, anymore.

No, no not with him. Not after this. All of it, all of him. It’s too much, it’s too far. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve home either but at least there you can save up and flee…

You’re so panicked, all your mind can do is run over the many ways you’re going to call home through the flashing images of her. Images of Katerina bloom like ivy in your mind as you plan out your next steps. You feel glued in place yet so desperate to leave.

You glance at the broken glass and jagged smile of the ghost girl, jumping when the warmth of his palm greets your shoulder.

“Mirame, look at me.” He commands, but softly. Rather, softer than usual.

You feel pathetic yet still, your hand shoots up to push his own away from behind you.

You’ve had enough.

You buried the devil in your past. Your life is far too valuable to dance with another one.

You’d rather be cased up at home forever, working a job around family that think of you as nothing more than scum than be around him for a day longer.

You know, now…

“I quit.” You force out through another sob, not daring to turn and face him. You’re hunched over, shaky and weak. On the verge of suffocating completely. You wipe at your eyes and don’t hear another sound from him before you snatch your bag and phone and practically run to the stairwell.

Two steps at a time, maybe three before December’s chill kisses you in icy greeting. You don’t need to whistle for a cab to brake. In you go, familiar as you’ve done this twice now because of him.

Only this time? You’ll never come back again…

🏷️ ‘s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield | chap 6 song 🎧:

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bubblegum-cherry-lips · 5 months

Text

bittersweet

summary: moving out of your place creates mixed feelings for you.

prompt: day 3 - bittersweet (prompts from this post)

pairing: poly marauders x (gender neutral) reader

cw: none

words: 523

•

Sirius carries the last box downstairs to the car, and for the first time that day, you are left alone in the flat you have called home for the last 10 years. It looks sad now, when all the furniture and stuff is gone - you haven’t noticed before how the walls have gone more gray than white, how the floor is all scratched and missing pieces of wood, and how the kitchen ceiling is covered with stains you no longer remember the origin of.

And even with all that, you still feel the ache at the thought that this is the last time you’re gonna be here.

You don’t regret the decision to move - you and the boys have been going steady for a while now, and with the time you spend over at their place, it’s really pointless to keep paying the rent here, and all the bills. And you are excited, you really are, at the thought of waking up to them every morning and knowing that they’d be there when you get home from work.

It’s just that this place, the tiny apartment with a single bedroom and ceiling-high windows in the living room, carries so many memories.

For example, right there on that couch, was the first time you kissed James. You two were watching movies, you don’t even remember which ones, but you do remember cuddling and dozing off in his arms. He kept petting your hair, scratching your scalp, and once he leaned to leave a kiss on your cheek, you turned your head and that was the first kiss you two shared - and many more followed.

When you look at the bedroom, you can’t forget that day when Sirius helped you paint the ceiling, balancing on the ladder as he tried to stick the fluorescent stars and paint you all your favorite constellations. And in that tiny bathroom, you remember sitting on the closed toilet as Remus takes off your make-up, face serious and hands gentle as he wiped it all off, planting kisses in between every swipe, all over your face.

Gods, even the stains on the ceiling tell the story of a birthday cake James and Sirius tried to bake and surprise you with, but it turned into a disaster and what you came home to that night was a chocolate-covered kitchen and store-bought cake, courtesy of Remus.

“You ready to go?” You’re not sure when exactly Sirius has returned, but you do feel his hand searching for yours and letting your fingers intertwine once he does find it, a dashing smile on his lips and the adorable blush on his cheeks, from the wind outside.

The ache and the memories may sit heavy on your chest, but there is too much good to look forward to in the future. So you nod, and squeeze your hand, and when you all pile into the car waiting downstairs, with James’ playlist echoing through the vehicle and Remus slowly driving you away from the building, you embrace the bitterness along with the sweetness.

Here’s to a new chapter - and all the amazing stuff it will bring.

#DecemberEvent2023 #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n

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uglypastels · 1 year

Text

Not Wholly Evil |II| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.7k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. heavy scarring and wounding. minor character death. allusions to suicide, depression and trauma. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot's sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 2: Asphodel "Because you and I are alike, and there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it." - Elizabeth Swann, Pirates of the Caribbean

Despite gaining the privilege of an open cage and access to the rest of the ship, you decided against this freedom… and in a way, that was all the freedom you could ask for, wasn’t it? To choose where to go or where to stay. The restrictions were only so far as anyone else on this ship. The uncharted waters kept you all at the bay of the plank.

But perhaps there was a part of you was scared to go beyond what had now become your own piece of the ship, a safety blanket among the ravenous snake pit. It was not even a question. You could just tell by how you closed your cell door at the sound of footsteps approaching down the ladder towards you. These men were wild and unpredictable. You could never expect what they would do once with you. The distance was the only option.

Perhaps not so free as the rest, after all.

Yet.

Because you would fight it. All of them. Make your presence known and show everyone you were not like any other they had snagged off a ship. You assumed there had been more, after all. More prisoners, more girls to take advantage of. The shackles hanging down from the wall in your cell, stained red with rust and blood, were proof enough of what once occurred below deck.

Despite being the safest place you could be in, it still was a nightmare on Earth to spend your days there, among the crates and chests filled with stolen treasures, supplies, and whatever else was deemed worth the same amount of treatment as you. Everything had been stacked mindlessly, dropped at the earliest convenience, and items only moved to make a short path to your holding cell. The disorganisation and thoughtlessness around you had been a bittersweet nuisance. You could not stand it, but at the same time, it was nice to have something so trivial on your mind as the lacklustre distribution of goods around the ship.

Clearly, no one cared about what was going on. No one spent enough time there to notice anything, besides you, of course. The only times someone climbed those steps were to bring you your meals or to bring more storage in. So what harm would it do to you put some order to it?

It wasn’t much, but you had created a way to pass the long hours aboard. And it was pleasant, though exhausting. With the food you were given, your energy was not what it once used to be, and the first thing to go when not feeding the body properly is the muscle. Moving the larger items took a while, but you saw a positive outcome. By taking everything slowly, you had no fear of completing your task soon. It was a never-ending activity. Tiring but something for you to do, and most importantly, keep your mind too occupied with the straining work ahead rather than the larger picture of your current circumstances.

A part of it was also an attempt at claiming your territory. Lifting large boxes was doing the trick when it came to letting out your anger and frustrations, too, a way to channel everything into the peculiar renovation. A point to focus on something physical, something you could control, instead of your emotions and everything going on around you.

A few days since you began doing so, things started making sense. But, most importantly, no one who ever came down there seemed to notice or care what you were doing. Besides the food they had to feed you to keep you alive, there was little interest they seemed to have for your existence.

You found many other objects that they must have considered rubbish, but you could use them just fine. Like the old sails, or what you assumed were scraps of an old torn sail, folded up in a corner. It was such a large piece of material that you tied it up to the corners of your barred walls, creating a curtain that gave you some privacy. Most of the chests around you were locked, giant padlocks handing down from the cover, the keys most likely at the bottomless pit of the ocean along to their original owners. But some were shut, and of course, you poked a peak inside with interest.

Some were empty, and some had scrolls of paper, which you took up as light reading for early mornings when the sun hit through the windows just right, giving you a bright light source. There were captain logs and maritime routes; letters never sent, and maps never finished.

One caught your attention, and you read the most on those drabby mornings when nothing else could make you feel alive. This one particular letter, which you could only assume was intended for a young woman from her lover, kept your heart beating and your hopes of escaping this ship alive. At least the parts of it that you had managed to find, for the parchment was ripped to pieces, the last chunk still missing among the piles of items you were roaming through.

By now, you had read it so many times you didn’t even need the paper to recite it.

My dearest, The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore. I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips. Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but it will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you…

There certainly was something about the love you felt seeping through each word you read and reread. It almost put you down into this state of calmness as it looped in your mind in the evening, letting you fall asleep.

It was another evening like all the others before it. Your dinner had been served in silence. If you had not known better, you would have assumed all men had taken an oath of silence, never to speak again, but it was evident the quiet was only limited to you. As you felt the slumber climb over you, the deck was alive and well.

The contrast between living aboard the Hellfire at night and day could not be more than that. While the sun was up, the boots fell heavy above your head, fatigue coming over them as the work had to be done. The crew did what they could to keep the boat afloat and sailing on. As much as the deep waters could be a calming sight to some, it was absurd that there could be nothing around you but water for days. Undoubtedly, the ship must reach a harbour quickly; provisions could only be stored in the salt barrels for so long. The last time the boat reached shore must have been days before your cage door had opened. Then again, you knew what going ashore meant for the people like the Hellfire crew… and did not wish the aftermath upon your worst enemies.

There would be fire, which you knew they adored. It came alive in spirit and light when the night sky appeared. When the work was done, and the sails smoothly let themselves be guided by the wind, you could always hear them walking above your cage, taunting their freedom with songs and tales. The ship was like a masquerade when the moon lit everything in her silver glow. It would have to be, or else the weariness and longing for land would take over.

The songs were nothing special, typical shanties and hymns allured by a drunken chorus, singing the ballads of adventure and treasures, beautifully sombre. Yet, these moments made you believe that some humanity was left in them. Some kindness and compassion, too. A part that they would never dare show when the sun came up.

It was as if the men aboard were two different people in one, where one side came out during the night and the other during the day. And you seemed to much prefer the nighttime sort. As, during the sun hours, the candles and lanterns went out, and with it, their souls were all back to their usual dirty selves. Their dark spirits would take over once more.

Either way, the nights were extended, as no sleep came to anyone. Not with the singing being so loud that it drilled into your ears. For them, slumber would come later and disappear quickly too, but no one seemed to mind.

You had no way of telling the time on board, the only possible tell sign would be the sun's position, but even that was never exactly as you had barely any idea where in the world you were. All you could make out was that the crew made way for their hammocks in the small hours of the morning when the sun teased its appearance at the horizon, its glow awakening everything else but the drunken sailors that held you captive.

The ship was asleep. The only sounds you could make were the waves smashing into the vessel and the gulls screeching in the distance. It was an opportunity. You could roam the deck unbothered.

With a deep but shaky breath, you inhaled the salty sea air as you climbed the ladder, hands paling at your knuckles from your grip on it. The trapdoor opened with a creak, and you froze in your movements, waiting for the sound to have woken up everybody… but the silence resumed. You let out another deep breath and pushed the door open to reveal the sky, millions of stars looking down at you, but already fading as the sun appeared slowly. The dewy morning hours were dark but brighter than anything you had been surrounded with since your capture.

It had been getting colder by the day, and you already knew that by sitting in your cell. Soon enough, more than your dress would be needed for the climate you were entering. Shivers swarmed your arms at the wind blowing by. Your steps remained small and apprehensive as you needed help figuring out where to go. You had the entire ship deck to yourself for a short time. There was so much to explore above ground, but your legs automatically steered you towards the barriers of the ship.

You walked over to the ship's edge, letting your nails dig into the wood and your frustrations on the trim piece. Stand there, look at the horizon, and watch the sun slowly rise from under the water. The first sunrise you witnessed in weeks— at least not from the small window that peaked right over your head in your cell– had been a euphoric experience. Everything felt brand new. As your last attempts at peeking at the waves had resulted in painful flashbacks of your previous minutes aboard the Red Tail, now, you focused on the calm ripples of the water. No longer was the only thing you saw in the blue the blood of your long-lost friends. You saw their resting place. In the early morning, golden sun rays peeked out from the horizon, illuminating the drab grey of the waters like a liquid treasure hiding beneath the surface. You saw the waves moving along the ship sheepishly, back and forth. Calmly, sleepy, drifting away into the distance with each push of the boat and wind. It was slowly waking up, the sea, the earth.

What would it dream of, you pondered. It must be lovely to be so at peace.

If you closed your eyes and let the fresh golden light wash over you for long enough, you could fool yourself into oblivion. That you were somewhere else. A happy place.

It was so peaceful and quiet that the smallest of disturbances broke you out of your happy thoughts. You felt the presence from across the ship, his eyes on you, disintegrating your moment of bliss. But, of course, it could have been anyone, and you expected it to be one of the crewmates, one of the men with poor luck who had to start their work shift with the sun.

Never, in a million years, did you imagine turning around and meeting with a pair of golden hazel eyes. Captain Munson was leaning against one of the masts, leg prodded against the wooden pole. He chuckled at the sight of your face, evidently struck with panic. How had he even reached the centre of the deck so quietly? Because… he could not have been standing there, or anywhere, all this time?

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other, a small knife. He pressed the blade against the fruit’s skin and his thumb over it, cutting a small piece off. Then, still with the knife under it, he brought the apple slice to his lips. Never did his eyes leave yours as he ate. You felt unnerved with each move he made. You felt the need to look away, but for some reason, you simply couldn’t. It was like he was capturing you in a trance. So instead, you let your nails dig into the ship’s rail even more.

‘Do not let me disturb you, my darling,’ he eventually said and bode you farewell with a slight bow before parting ways. You were left stunned. Not sure what to say or do, you just turned back to look at the sea. It had no effect and felt like a sore loser's words, but you mumbled “Not your darling” under your breath.

Had that been all? It was all extremely disorienting. Because, of course, he had meant to disturb you. He did so to your very core. That cold-eyed gaze opposed the actual warmth of his honey irises. It froze your blood. It spoiled everything about your morning.

And as quickly he had appeared behind you, so quick the captain was to disappear out of your view again. You looked around yourself for good measure, extending your neck to locker over the larger barrels standing in the corners of the deck, but he had genuinely evaporated into the early day’s mist. A phantom of the sea.

But just because he was gone didn’t mean his presence was. You still felt his eyes on you, lurking from hidden darkness. Perhaps the darkness was in your own head, inner thoughts poisoning your sanity, but the feeling remained nonetheless.

Suddenly, the calm sea was anything but. Instead, the light sky seemed dull and grey, the waves bouncing off the ship aggressive. There was nothing peaceful about it left behind. There was nothing left for you there. But you remained steady in your place on the boat, looking out ahead at the horizon until the sun rising began to burn your eyes with its bright presence, and the wind blew harder. Only then did you decide, on your own devices, to head back down into the warmer discomfort of your enclosure.

You lay on the ground and threw that thin fleece over yourself, hoping to fall asleep and thus pass on the rest of the day. But, if Lady Luck was on your side, it would be one of the silent dreams that asked nothing of you but your mind, leaving it as it was. In fact, letting you rest from the horrors that were your life.

And so, the sleep came, but quiet it was not.

Flashes of the Red Tail. Flames, explosions, blood, it was all around you. Men dying over and over again. You tried to scream out, reach for them, and help them, but it was as if your body was stuck in the mud, unable to move. So you just had to stand there, helplessly, as you watched everyone around you die.

The pool of blood expanded over the sinking ship. The sky turned dark, almost black. You looked up to see the sun–that same sun that kissed you welcome mere minutes ago at the horizon– melting, enveloping everything in darkness. Once you looked back down, another urge to scream came over you.

A figure was standing not far from you, perhaps a few feet away. Covered in the blood that the ship was drowning in, from head to toe, he was basically dripping in it.

He smiled at you, a canine-baring grin. Then, slowly but steadily, he neared you.

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, princess, aren’t we?’

You awoke with a pitched scream.

Breathing heavily, just trying to get your heart back on a steady rhythm, the clanking of swords echoing in your head was doing everything against it. Just like that day on the Red Tail. Just like in your dream. You could still hear it, and it felt so real. Each loud hit of metal against metal made you wince. Cannons would follow soon. Then the blood…

But only the swords remained. It kept going and going. Then there were the footsteps. Heavy above you, making the whole ceiling shake. It felt like a stampede, in all honesty. And there was shouting. Boisterous clammer. Followed by crowded cheers and some clinking… that you could not immediately make out what it was supposed to be.

One thing you knew for sure, however. Whatever was happening above you, it could not mean anything good. It simply reminded you too much of that other day. That first day… or was it your last?

There was a fight ongoing on the deck. The question was, what kind? Were you being attacked? Would another group of men come down the ladder steps and haul you onto another ship? Will they cheer over Munson’s death as these men cheered over Carver’s? Would this circle of hell ever end?

No, it couldn’t be that. The cheering was too joyful and—was that laughter you could hear? Yes. Loud and boisterous. Right above your head. In a chorus. Your mind went to the evenings you had endured sleeplessly as the men jested until the sun rose, but when you looked out the window, you still saw the bright blue sky. So what was going on?

Against your better judgement, you took a risk, all in the thought of showing initiative and how powerful you would look walking out of the trapdoor onto the full deck. You just told yourself that enthusiastic cheering was a sign of no evil. It indicated that it was no malicious attack of another ship, that whatever you would encounter, there would be nothing to be afraid of. With that confidence, you climbed up there, pushed the trapdoor up and–

A blade wobbled back and forth as it deeply penetrated the deck's surface, inches away from your face. You held onto the edge of the floorboards, trying not to fall back down, as the scream that erupted from your lungs halted everything around you. Everybody in reach hooked his gaze on you if they weren’t fast enough to run up to the hole you were attempting to crawl out of. No one helped, of course. They just stared. Dozens of pairs of blank and cold eyes blinked arhythmically as the bodies they belonged to stood frozen in a circle, unsure of what to do next. The blade stuck in the wood still shifted in its new makeshift holster.

Then, much like on your very first day aboard, the circle opened up to reveal the captain. He stood several feet away, and you caught him blinking slowly before approaching you. Had he been hesitant to approach? Was he, though you doubted, startled to see you?

But whatever emotion it had been to cause his hesitance, it was gone as he spoke:

‘Just in time, darling!’ The silence was broken, and so was the tension your appearance had created.

He had an almost identical sword in his hand. Behind him stood one of his crew mates, face paling despite the grimace he was trying to pull off among his peers. He must have been who the captain dramatically disarmed, ending with that sword landing and nearly cutting your nose off. Was anyone feeling guilty for putting that fear upon you?

Highly unlikely.

The captain neared your trapdoor, leaning down on one knee and reaching his hand out to you, an attempt at some fair treatment toward; helping you get up onto the deck gracefully—you boldly refused. The idea of touching him… images your mind had conjured up in the night still pestered you and flashed past your eyes at the sight of his hand so near you. You looked away as your feet touched the deck for the second time that day. You hated the sight of him any given day, but this particular afternoon, it was even more of an unbearable sight.

The captain had abandoned his hat, opting to tie his hair with a red ribbon into a ponytail, failing to do so properly as strands were already escaping at the frame of his face. His long black coat and shirt also had been abandoned. It was a hot day, and with the training, he was most likely performing, the sweat on his chest was already forming, despite the cool breeze standing a strong fight with the sails.

A ghastly sight, truly, the sweat that slicked over the countless prints of black ink on his arms, chest and ribs. The ink barely covered the various scars in the same placements. Some were small, like the nicks of a blade. The new bright red cut across his clavicle would surely join that collage. Others were unmistakably older but must have once been deep flesh wounds, possible gunshots, bites, or the results of things you most likely would not even be able to fathom. It looked like a visual of a life of torture.

You blinked, letting his previous words settle in your mind. ‘In time for what?’ You looked around. All eyes remained on you since you had made your presence known, something you had fallen out of habit with. You were not used to getting so much attention anymore.

‘Training, of course.’ Munson easily pulled the blade out of the ship planks, handing it to you. ‘Has anyone ever taught you how to fight?’

‘No.’ It was unladylike to swordfight, scuffle, argue, or do anything you did at the time of your capture. The heft felt awkward in your grip, clearly too big for your hand, but the entire piece felt off-balance. It must have been a homemade contraption of one of the Hellfire crew. Possibly molten out of the treasures residing downstairs with you. You adjusted your grip on the sword, but nothing felt right.

Nothing you did slipped past the Captain, whose eyes were on you and his crew. He pursed out his bottom lip in a mocking pout.

‘A true pity.’ He swung his blade back and forth. Each swoosh in the air made you flinch. ‘maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have ended up here with us.’ The chuckle started deep within him but evolved into a guttural laugh from the whole crew. The sound boiled your blood in anger as well as embarrassment. You wanted to attack their captain immediately but knew it wouldn’t end well. He looked you up and down with his casual smirk, and you made it a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up. No longer could he think he could just do whatever he pleased with you. ‘But there is always time to learn, I believe.’

‘I don’t want to fight you,’ you simply stated, looking down at the longsword clutched in your hand.

‘C’mon, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘it’s no fighting. it’s just a bit of fun.’

‘I see no fun in useless acts of violence.’ Did any of your words sound profound? Confident? You were ready to hear another wave of laughter, but it did not come. The only response was a smirk of the captain, but not one you had seen before.

It wavered.

‘Don’t be like that, my darling.’ He recovered with his mockery, but you were no longer having any of it. With large strides, you closed the gap between you two across the deck. The men around you were split in moving back or getting ready to seize you if the situation required interference. The captain was among the former group. His stance shifted backwards as you met him, your chest nearly hitting his.

Your grip tightened on the sword, and he must have noticed it by how his eyes shifted down to your arm and back to your face.

A million different things ran through your mind; there were endless possibilities for relieving your anger at the man standing before you, all being the catalyst of events that you did not dare start. What were you to do?

Your nails dug into your hand as your fingers wrung the halt of the sword. With this object alone, you could do a hundred different things, most of which would result in only a worse situation for yourself.

You struck the blade down with as much power as you could muster. Like it had hit the planks in front of your face moments before, it now missed the captain’s feet by mere inches. He looked down, never moving anything but his eyes, and then looked directly at you again. His features were blank of expression; no fear or anger, but no amusement either.

‘Call me any of that again, and next time it won’t be the deck that gets it.’ You had dared to move closer, letting your faces nearly touch. That smell of cinnamon and rum greeted you again. A few seconds passed as you stood there, eyes piercing through one another. Your blood boiling, his chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths.

He did not respond.

Or at least not until you had turned to walk away.

‘I would love to see you try. It sure is easy making empty threats, prin–’ but he never got to finish his mockery. Perhaps because it was even easier to sound confident behind one’s opponent’s back, not looking them in the eye, that angered you. The fact that the man who threw you in a cage was, in reality, nothing but a coward. At that moment, all regard for your safety escaped you as you turned back on your heel and lunged your fist towards his face.

It must have hurt you more than him, but the pink mark across his cheek was established. You did not bother to await his reaction once more and walked away for good– as far as the circumstances allowed you, which was not far. The ship was only so big, and the circle of men had moved onto the trapdoor, locking you in the fresh afternoon air.

They were ready to retaliate for your aggression towards their captain, but his words boomed across all ears. ‘Stand back! I said stand back,’ he repeated when some still tried to reach for you. You passed the crew and made for the spot you had become familiar with over the morning. Trying to ignore everything behind you, you again reached the ship’s edge. Their voices lingered over everything, impossible to block out, but you let yourself focus on the ripples in the water as your anger subsided.

Not long now. You had already been so close to home when they took you, and it's been days. Surely, soon they would reach the shore of your home and give you back to your family. That idea somehow managed to overcome everything that was actually happening around you.

Though you had slept through most of it, it had been a long day, and signs of it were showing in the sky. Now turning a soft pink and orange as the sun began to set once more, the night was coming. With it, the stars. Would you stay outside long enough to look at them? It had been a sight you had missed properly gazing at the millions of twinkling lives above you, the constellations and the stories they told.

It would all depend on the men that had now resumed their sword-fighting practice.

The casualness of it all was actually rather comforting, as it, for once, did not bring back memories of the unfortunate ship you had bid farewell to but rather the surroundings of your father’s estate. There, men like Admiral Carver were standing guard or practising, but also young boys and girls who ran away from their mothers, pretending to be on great little adventures with large twigs for weapons. For a moment, you could swear you could smell the fresh flowers that bloomed outside your bedroom window, or the spices haggled for at the market in the harbour. There were cats meowing and dogs barking. To think that once you had grown tired of it all, yearned for something new in life, but now could not imagine anything greater than a return home…

Who knew how long you had stood there staring at the darkening horizon. Your thoughts must have sent you off into the distance from the ship, as you had not realised anything happening around you. The sea was quickly becoming a comfort. When looking out at it, you did not have to face the cruel reality of the Hellfire and the people upon it. The waters seemed so inviting and freeing that you couldn’t help but think if maybe walking the plank wasn’t always a punishment…

You had not even noticed the smile creeping up at the corners of your lips, but it never came to fruition as you were broken out of the spell.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ the deep voice startled you, but you did not show it. In your short time aboard, and now being in actual contact with these scoundrels, there was one thing you had learned: To show fear to people like Munson, like the men on this ship, was possibly the stupidest thing a person like you could do. Letting fear control you would let them control you, playing right into their hand. Instead, display confidence and strength, which gets under their skin.

You glanced over as much as you could without physically turning in his direction. His long dark hair messily flowed with the wind now that he had released it from the ribbon. He was looking directly at you, making you grow hot with anger. Then, subtly rolling your eyes, you looked away again, back to the waters. That, however, did not stop the Captain from speaking again.

‘A view like this makes you think of how big the world is. How small you are.’ He held his dagger again in his left hand, twirling it mindlessly between his fingers. He was standing so close that your arms were brushing against one another. His gold and silver chains jingled at the slightest of movements. You tried to focus on that instead of his words. A task that turned out to be much more challenging than you had thought, as the Captain did not enjoy your rejection.

‘A bit of advice, princess,’ he leaned closer to you, his breath mixing with the wind. His nicknames for you would just have to lose their meaning in your head, as clearly, they were not going anywhere. ‘The silent treatment is not doing you any favours. On the contrary, my men like their girls quiet.’

‘Spare me, please,’ you hissed.

‘Believe me,’ he responded as if he could read your mind, ‘finding yourself on our ship has spared you enough,’ he let his head hang lightly askew, looking up at you with his large eyes, bemused– you could tell you had lost his one-sided game by speaking up. Then you might as well keep going.

‘Is that a threat?’ Just a reminder that even when you were not locked in a cage, you were not truly free or safe. Their danger constantly loomed over you.

‘Far from it, darling. I simply hope you know that there are much worse things out there,’ he leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as his hand reached out to the waters at your side to point at the waves with his blade. ‘You probably can’t even think up the horrors that live out in the wilderness of the oceans.’ What could he possibly know about your imagination? If only he knew that, at this specific moment, you were considering five different ways to gauge his honey eyes.

You turned to him directly now. His stare at you was cold and focused. The mark you had left on his cheek was now also unavoidable. It called to you and anyone who looked at him like a beacon of a lighthouse. That smile of yours from seconds before threatened to come out again, but you held it in. However unbothered he might have sounded at the strike, you did not believe that could have been it. There must have been a reason for his current approach. What you had done in front of his entire crew was unacceptable and certainly not inconsequential–you could not imagine that he had not set a punishment ready for you. And whatever it would be, you doubted it would be subtle or free of pain. Yet, you reminded yourself of the freshly taught lesson. Keep your head up. Don’t show your fear.

Not breaking eye contact, you decided to simply ask.

‘What is it that you want from me?’

And the Captain did not waste a second in his response.

‘See me in my quarters, darling.’

-Chapter 3-

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 17 all chapters

WARNINGS: THE MOST YANDERE CHAPTER OF THIS YANDERE FIC YET. POSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT. PLZ TAKE CARE. I LUV U ALL.😘

-In the haze between sleep and waking, you are vaguely aware of strong arms wrapped around you, a lean and long body spooned at your back. You feel warm, and safe, and by some signal of scent or touch or cosmic connection from your hindbrain, somehow you just know that it’s Mr. Wick who has you folded up in his embrace. How perfectly you fit, with the curve of your backside tucked against his hips, your legs tangled under the covers.

Your Half Asleep Brain is totally fine with this cozy arrangement. You don’t really remember how you got here, but maybe something for once actually went right.

You let yourself doze.

But then he shifts against you, (that inevitable male hardness poking against your backside), and you wake up a little more, your faculties returning to you as the dreamy curtain of slumber slips away. You start to remember what happened before—the chase, and the murder—and Awake Brain is suddenly not ok with your current arrangement at all.

Awake Brain is ready to freak the fuck out.

You stiffen in his arms, trying to sit up, but that inexorable grip tightens around you.

“Easy.”

You struggle, but he effortlessly pins you, wrapping a long leg around yours. Between his greater strength and solid weight pressing you down into the mattress, you are stuck.

“Let me go,” you growl.

“Not until we have a little talk.”

Under different circumstances this position could have been interesting. The hard line of his lean body is pressed against you…the length of him against the curve of your bottom.

At least someone is having a good time.

Even like this from behind, you can tell it’s something to be reckoned with. The thought fills you with an inconvenient bloom of heat, your body betraying you while skipping into the darkness with a song. Your own reaction to him almost makes you angrier than his own actions.

“What the fuck, John?” You strain against him again, naturally, to no avail. He doesn't taunt you, just holds you immobile, and you are a butterfly against a hurricane.

“Calm down.”

“Then let me go.”

You feel him breathe in the scent of your hair behind your ear, before releasing a shuddering sigh.

“We’re in a predicament, y/n.”

“No shit.”

“I think after what you saw...you know I can't let you go.”

Oh, what's a little quadruple homicide between friends?

You have the sense to keep this to yourself, at least.

“I won't say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“I didn't say anything about the guys in the van.”

“Well, you didn't have any real evidence then. Just suspicion.”

“But...you so killed those guys in the van.”

There’s a long pause before he finally admits, “Yeah.”

You’re not sure why that makes you try to struggle again. It’s just as fruitless as before.

“Who were those guys you killed?”

You are met with silence. “In Venice?”

Jesus, do you actually have to clarify with this man?

“They were not nice people, y/n.”

“I gathered that. But... who were they?”

John sighs against you, and you take some heart as you feel his grip loosen slightly so he’s not absolutely crushing you. “They were enforcers for the Camorra crime syndicate.”

“And...why did they have such a problem with you?”

“Bad blood, from an old job I did in Rome.”

A job. You’ve seen enough movies to know what that means. He really was a hitman. Jesus H Christ.

“You thought they wouldn't want revenge, if you went back to Italy?”

“I had to risk it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You’re baiting him, but you just can’t help it. You’re angry, and you’re sore, and he’s pinning you down like you’re just a feather and you do not fucking like it.

You feel him growl behind you, and fuck you if the low vibration does not strike some primal cord in your body, something left over from the time when your ancestors still lived in caves.

He moves so fast you have no chance to take advantage, turning you so that you are laying chest to chest. His erection presses into your hip, and he pins you with those beautiful dark eyes boring down into yours. It takes every iota of self-control you possess not to spread your legs so that he can settle into the cradle of your hips, where you fear he would fit so very well.

He traps your small hands above your head with just one of his, using the other to hold the side of your face, keeping your attention on him. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, but you are finding you like it when he touches you like this, like he is your master and you are his pretty little doll to manipulate how he pleases.

Your eyes close, just for a moment, before you force yourself to keep them open. Keep your eye on the danger, a voice in your head tells you.

A less helpful voice suggests that you just give in and let him fuck you silly.

You ignore that one, for now.

“Because,” he grouses with a scowl. “I was afraid you’d meet some handsome dipshit your own age, and…move to fucking Argentina!”

You don’t know where you get the pluck to frown back up at him. This poor, dear, deranged man.

“John…”

Do you know how crazy you sound?

You don't dare say it out loud.

Maybe it would have been smart to try to win points by assuring him you were coming back to him. It was even 100 percent the truth at the time. But something spiteful in you doesn’t want to offer him that declaration now. You feel like he lost his right to it.

That laser-like stare shifts from your eyes to your mouth, a moment before descending to press his lips to yours. His lips are soft, but the kiss is nothing less than possessive. Even so, you have to fight not to let him lull you with his clever mouth and the tantalizing slide of his tongue.

A fresh wave of anger hits you, because you want this. You want him, and he could have had you so easily, without having to…what? Stalk you? Take you?

You realize you don't even know where you are.

All this accumulates in you in the matter of a second, and you express this frustration by clamping his lip between your teeth. It's more a warning, than anything. You do not draw blood, but you bite hard enough to make him pause.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” It’s almost funny, the way he sounds talking around his lip in your teeth. Yet somehow, he still manages to sound absolutely menacing.

“Or what?” you challenge. “Are you going to hurt me, John?”

Yes, taunt the man you saw kill four people easy as pouring a bowl of cereal.

“No. But I will punish you. Remember that, as we go forward.”

You let him go, thinking on that.

It makes a chill run down your spine.

He tries to kiss you again, but you turn your face away.

“Please let me up.”

He is silent and still as the mountain, for long enough that you don’t think he will. You imagine he’s weighing his options, and you know as well as he does that he holds all the cards in his oh-so-capable hands. He could finally take you, like this, and you couldn’t stop him. As fucked up as it is…you’re not even sure you wouldn’t enjoy it, and you battle with yourself not to squirm beneath him in this fucked up stew of fear, desire, and anticipation.

That will not help your cause, you know.

He surprises the hell out of you when finally he agrees, “I will, if you promise to be calm.”

“I’m cool as a fucking cucumber.”

He ducks to huff a laugh into the bend of your neck. You feel it stir your hair more than hear it. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse that makes you flush, a spear of longing jetting through you, and you barely manage not to wrap your legs around his narrow hips.

This man. It’s just not fucking fair.

Then he sucks, hard enough to hurt, and you know there will be a bruise.

He’s fucking marking you.

“I’m serious.”

You breathe in as deeply as you can with his solid, delicious weight piled on you, and let it out slow. “I’m good. Please, let me up.”

Though you can tell he’s reluctant to do it, very slowly he shifts his weight from you, rolling onto his back at your side. You sit up, pushing off the covers, and find the room is spinning slightly.

What the fuck did he drug you with?

You look around. The room is painted in dark shades, the ceiling vaulted high. Bookshelves take up the wall behind the bed. A bank of windows affords a view of the woods beyond. You are up high, the second story, at least.

You recognize these woods, and the feeling of this interior.

“Are we back in fucking Clear Forks?”

“Yes. We’re safe here.”

You blink down at him. He sounds almost reasonable now, and maybe the fact that he let you up makes you think you can reason with him.

“John…you have to let me go.”

“Can't.”

“You have to.”

He just shakes his head.

“So...what? You're going to keep me locked up here forever?”

He licks his lips, pressing them in thought as he choses his next words. “Until... we've reached an understanding. That might take a while.”

You stare down at him, open mouthed.

“John...you can't just keep me here.”

“I can, actually.” He just looks at you with his hands behind his head, resembling for all the world a lazy lion on the plain, deadly but at ease like it's not your entire life he's casually high jacking for his own gratification. Then strangely he looks away, as though he actually is embarrassed about something, letting out a slow breath. “And...I want to.”

“What?”

His gaze returns to yours, his glittering black eyes sharp and as obsidian. “I. Want. You. To stay here with me. I need you.”

God damn if hearing him say those words doesn't make your traitor of a heart go pitter pat pat.

Keeping your eyes on him as though you are in bed with a tiger, you slide off the edge, your legs jelly beneath you. How long have you been out? What did he drug you with? Your mouth is so dry. Maybe you should be grateful he didn’t hit you to knock you out, at least. That’s never so nice and neat as it is in the movies.

You're still wearing your same little pink sundress from Italy, which maybe is a little heartening, not that it provides much protection.

Your heart in your throat, you want to run mad circles around the room yelling, banging on the windows and rattling the doors. Instead you make yourself stay calm as you look around, checking your options, not caring if John is watching.

You don't care, because deep down, you already know it's hopeless. He's not a stupid man. You inspect the door, finding no door handle, no lock that could be picked. There is simply a keypad and what looks like a fingerprint scanner. You notice it is mounted high over your head, so it would be hard for you to access even if somehow you managed to render him unconscious.

You knock on the window with your fist, just for the hell of it.

“Ballistic grade, bullet proof. Good luck.”

He sounds so bored about it, like it's not a big deal that his armored glass stands between you and your freedom. Yet, you doubt the glass was originally for your benefit.

“Bulletproof, in case the Camorra come for you?”

“Them, or others. I’ve made a few enemies over the years.”

You’re not proud that this freaks you out a little.

“And you really think you’re safe here?”

“So far, so good…”

You glare at him over your shoulder, and damn him for looking utterly scrumptious while being such an asshole.

He's wearing a black henley and sweatpants, and he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. You could write sonnets about the little strip of pale flesh exposed between his hem and his waistband.

Despite how fit he is, you notice his tummy is just a little soft. It's endlessly endearing, and in different circumstances you would have delighted in pressing your lips to that line of dark hair, and pulling down his sweatpants with your teeth…

You realize you are staring, and with cheeks aflame you avert your gaze. You notice he’s smirking at you, and it makes you mad all over again, your fists clenching at your sides.

He seems to find this amusing as hell.

“You don’t have to look away,” he coaxes, surprisingly gentle. “I like it, that you like my body.”

You huff indignantly, inevitably remembering how adamantly he’d prevented you from undressing him, what feels like a lifetime ago now. “Then why wouldn’t you let me see you?”

“That was…different.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you were ready. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Gee, are your guns that big, Mr. Wick?”

This wins you a small laugh, and only belatedly do you realize how sick it is that you’re joking around with him again.

This is not normal. This is not normal. This is not normal.

You have a feeling it’s going to have to become your new mantra.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says enigmatically. It makes the hairs stand up all over your body, even as your idiotic nether regions clench with desire at the thought.

You have got to get out of here.

“Aren’t they going to think it’s weird I just disappeared without a trace from the hostel?” you pose.

“Probably not. You collected your things, and you paid in full.”

Of course he’d taken care of that.

Then the scope of this coup really dawns on you.

“You clever motherfucker. No one will even look for me here, because they think I'm in Europe for weeks more.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you.

“You have a filthy fucking mouth, my dear. I'd watch that, if I were you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but don't push your luck just yet.

“But no, no one will be looking for you. Your family and your friends are so busy...”

You close your eyes against his cruel—but perfectly accurate—words. My, how the truth cuts deep.

His tone softens as he tells you, “You don't need them, y/n. You have me. And I promise I'll take care of you.”

You don’t bother to argue again that you don’t need taking care of. You’re beginning to anticipate his answers, and it’s like arguing with a stone wall.

You’ll need a different tack, you think.

Agitated, you stalk to the next door in the room, flinging it open. It’s a walk-in closet, filled with his clothes, and you realize, clothes for you as well. They’re cute, and to your taste, the bright colors an almost comical contrast to his monochromatic wardrobe. But they’re more expensive than anything you can usually afford. They’re all your size.

Your heart sinks to your feet as you realize this means he’s actually been planning this for a while.

The next door is half cracked. You push it all the way open.

To say that it's a bathroom seems like an understatement. All dark marble and black cabinetry, there are two sinks and a long countertop, a walk-in rain shower that could fit 6, and a tub that could be mistaken for a small swimming pool. The corners are accented with lush houseplants, ferns and philodendron. It looks wonderful, and you’re furious all over again, because you can't fucking enjoy it like this.

“Why?” you spit, whirling. Only to start when you find him standing right there behind you. You didn't hear a thing. “Why did you have to do it this way?” With him standing so close, you find your words lose some of their intended venom.

He crowds you against the doorjamb, lifting a hand to your face again.

“Because I was afraid you wouldn't come back to me.”

This tall, powerful man sounds ridiculously vulnerable just then.

But like flipping a switch, he frowns, his long fingers resting lightly around your throat. A chill runs down your spine, and you're sure he can feel your pulse in your neck speeding against his fingers. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt you. Just…holds you, and you are ever so aware that you are at his mercy.

“You ran away from me,” he accuses.

Maybe your sense of self-preservation is a little broken.

“I can't imagine why.” You punctuate it with an eyeroll, and suddenly you find yourself pushed into the wall with a hand spread over your chest, the ridges of the jamb biting into your spine. His thumb presses over your lips, preventing you from speaking further.

“That fucking mouth of yours.”

Before you can blink he is on you, pressing his lips to yours in a punishing kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. Maybe you start to slump down the wall, but he wraps you up in his arms, holding you up effortlessly.

“This is how it's going to be,” he pants, his forehead pressed to yours. You get the sense that he is on the verge of losing control, and you are on pins and needles, wanting to know what that would be like, and fearing it too.

You fear it a lot.

“You can run that sassy mouth of yours all you want, but I will enjoy disciplining you for it every time. You might want to start thinking before you speak.”

“You want to hurt me.”

Tears fill your eyes at the thought of it. Maybe you’re a little broken yourself, after seeing him kill people, but this is the thing that really makes you cry. Of course he probably has some kind of fucking red room around here filled with restraints and whips and toys you've never even fucking heard of…

“No, baby. I never want to hurt you.”

You don't believe him in the slightest.

With a big hand on your jaw he turns your face up to look at him. “Please don't cry.”

“Then don't do...whatever the fuck this is! You fucking kidnapped me, John!”

“I took what's mine,” he insists in a dark tone that makes inexplicable heat flood between your legs. “You forced my hand.”

It’s all your fault, of course.

“Did you really think I was just going to follow you after all that?”

He cants his head as he looks down at you, his dark hair swinging into his eyes. Your fingers itch to brush it away, and you hate the way the sight pangs deep in your chest. You shouldn’t feel anything for him, after what he’s done—your heart has not gotten the memo, it seems.

“You asked me not to let you go.”

Motherfucker took that literally, it seems.

The ironic thing is, you’d 300 percent meant what you said, at the time.

“I did not sign up for this,” you insist anyway.

“I’ve tried to warn you…since the moment we met,” he tells you. “But you just kept coming back. And now…I need you, y/n. I love you, and I’m never going to let you go.”

What a ridiculous creature you are, that hearing this moves you to the marrow of your bones, makes you almost sick with a medley of triumph and remorse, desire and fear. You’d so determinedly pried open the lid of this Pandora’s box with the dogged insistence of your affection; look at what a marvelous horror you unleashed. Mr. Wick: your very own monster made of dark need and twisted devotion.

This is all so…crazy.

Yet...he doesn't seem like he's crazy. Just absolutely, unmovingly, resolute in his conviction. And right now, that conviction involves his possession of you.

You close your eyes against his gaze boring a hole through you. Your voice barely lifts above a whisper, your strength suddenly sapped. “I could have loved you.”

It’s a lie, of course.

A lie, because you are already hopelessly, totally in love with this man, despite what he’s done to you, and despite everything you’ve seen him do.

You’ve seen the other side of his coin, you know how sweet and wonderful he can be. Where is that man when you need him? Once upon a time, he absolutely was your safe space, your protector, someone you could turn to when you truly had no one else.

Now, who would protect you, from him?

It breaks your heart, because you fear the answer is that no one can.

“You will love me, y/n,” he insists without a hint of doubt. To be so certain...of anything. He brushes your hair behind your ear with such tenderness you could weep.

A single tear does escape from the corner of your eye. He catches it on the pad of his finger, bringing it to his lips.

“It will be alright, y/n. I've got you.”

That is exactly what you're afraid of.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere #yandere john wick #john wick fanfiction #bittersweet john wick imagine

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