#an intense and reminiscent gaze into each other’s eyes? a smirk? a hug? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years

Text

let me love you down

You’re a former idol trainee turned fashion designer, called back by the company to dress one of their groups for their next comeback. You assume it’s for one of their girl groups, but you’re surprised to see it’s for one of their boy groups. That’s when you meet him again, the one who’d had a crush on you when you were both trainees, except now, he’s no longer the cute boy with dimples. He’s a man now, and he’s determined to prove it to you.

Pairing: idol!jaehyun x noona!reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: noona kink (reader is a few years older than Jaehyun), nipple play, fingering, sex in front of a mirror, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral sex (m. receiving), dirty talk, swearing

Word count: 3.5k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: purely self-indulgent haha

You walked the halls of the familiar building, memories of your trainee days coming back to you, both pleasant and not so pleasant. You smiled as you passed the practice rooms, remembering the endless hours of dancing you’d done in them, as well as the hours of sitting around and gossiping with the other trainees. You didn’t miss the grueling regimen, but you did miss the friendships you’d made along the way.

“Y/N!” One of those trainee friends, now turned idol, ran towards you now with arms outstretched.

“Irene!” you squealed, as you both wrapped your arms around each other for a tight hug.

“I heard you were coming today! It’s so nice to see you!” Irene wrapped an arm around your waist, looking you up and down, “and you look fantastic!”

You beamed at her praise, twirling around so she could see your outfit for the day, which you had designed.

“So, is it your group I’m dressing for the comeback?” you asked, thinking it made the most sense, as your style fit their concept the best.

“Nope,” Irene shrugged, “you’re in there.” She pointed towards a meeting room at the end of the hall.

“Oh, okay.” You were confused, but hugged Irene goodbye and promised to keep in touch. When you opened the door to the meeting room you were surprised to see the members of one of the company’s boy groups, along with their managers.

The concept was explained to you and you understood why they had called you in, and you were excited to work on something new, not having designed menswear before. As you listened to the pitch and took notes, you couldn’t help but feel a certain pair of eyes on you much more than the others. You remembered training with most of them, but they had been a whole lot younger back then, and you, being one of the older trainees, didn’t spend too much time around them. Out of curiosity you finally turned to them, studying their faces, until you came to the one who had been giving you looks.

He held your gaze for a moment, smiling, before he turned away shyly. You remembered him for sure, you could never forget those dimples. He had been the one that all the girls said had a crush on you, and teased you mercilessly about it. You smiled at the memory, and at the fact he had grown up well, the pudgy face of early adolescence transformed into the sharp cheekbones and jawline that made him the well-earned visual of his group.

With the meeting over each member came up to you and re-introduced themselves, asking you if you remembered them, talking all at once, bringing up stories and memories, some you remembered, some you didn't. Jaehyun, the one who’d had a crush on you back then, stood back a bit from the other members, just watching you with a shy smile on his face.

“And you remember Jaehyun, don’t you, noona?” Johnny suddenly said, pushing Jaehyun forward so he stood right in front of you. The other members snickered, apparently his little crush was well known amongst them as well.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him, “it’s nice to see you again, Jaehyun.”

Flustered, he didn’t know whether to bow or shake your hand, so he settled on both, bending slightly towards you with his hand outstretched. You took his hand and shook it, noticing how cold and clammy it was. His ears were also a bright red, and he was aware of it, once you took your hand away he couldn’t help but touch them nervously with his hand.

“It’s nice to see you too, noona,” he said, and you couldn’t help but notice how much deeper his voice had gotten. He really did grow up well, you thought.

“I’m really looking forward to working with all of you,” you addressed them all, wanting to break the awkward atmosphere that had settled. There was a chorus of cheers, the members clearly happy about working with you as well. “I am going to need a couple of you to come by my studio tomorrow to do an initial fitting though.”

As the leader it was Taeyong’s job to assign people, so he looked around at each member. You noticed that Jaehyun looked at him hopefully. “Um, I think Haechan should be available, and…” he looked around again, and Jaehyun actually stepped up to him with his hand raised, “okay, Jaehyun can go too.” He chuckled, giving in.

“Okay thanks, I’ll see you two tomorrow,” you pointed at the two members who would be joining you the next day. Haechan smirked, side-eyeing Jaehyun, who just smiled widely at you.

---

The next day you got a text from Haechan saying that he wasn’t feeling too well so he couldn't make it to the fitting and that he was sorry, and he hoped that just having Jaehyun would be enough. You texted back saying it was fine, and that you hoped he would feel better.

You busied yourself around the studio while you waited, laying out the garments you were anxious for them to try. You had hoped for at least two members to get a better idea of sizing, but you’d have to make do with just one. You found it sweet that Jaehyun had clearly wanted to volunteer, and you were looking forward to catching up with him to see how he liked the idol life. Halfway through your idol training you had decided it wasn’t for you and had quit, deciding instead to go into fashion design. You didn’t regret your decision at all, loving your work, and watching idols perform onstage was enough for you, content that you hadn’t pursued that life. You had great respect for the trainees who’d made it, remembering how difficult it had been for you, and working with them again was definitely a treat.

In the middle of your reminiscence, Jaehyun walked into your studio. You almost didn’t recognize him, thinking he was a model from one of your other projects. He was dressed casually, in a black t-shirt and jeans, barefaced, his black hair tinted with streaks of blue, but he still exuded such a presence that you were taken aback.

“Oh, Jaehyun,” you said, startled slightly as he approached you.

“Noona,” he bowed gracefully, then smiled. There was an air about him that almost made him seem regal, like a prince undercover, and there were no traces of the shyness he’d exhibited the day before.

You couldn’t help but look him up and down, the change in his demeanor putting him in a whole new light. Your business brain observed the broadness of his shoulders, and how shirts and jackets would hang off them perfectly, how his narrow waist would show off the cut of a tailored coat, and how the proportions of his long legs and solidly built torso would make the perfect canvas for any creation you could come up with.

He saw you staring and smiled widely, his dimples getting deeper while his eyes crinkled ever so cutely. You remembered liking his face when he was younger, but the cuteness had morphed into a drop-dead gorgeousness that you couldn’t help but acknowledge. And the way he looked at you now, far from the puppy-dog eyes of youth, it was more intense, but somehow still playful.

“Um, shall we get started?” you cleared your throat, trying to clear your brain of the mixed emotions you were feeling, knowing you had a job to do.

You brought him over to a rack of clothes in front of a full-length mirror, showing him the different ideas you had for the comeback. He nodded now and then, giving you feedback when you asked and offering his own opinions here and there. You found he was very knowledgeable when it came to fashion and fabrics, and he had very firm opinions on what he liked and what he didn’t like. You appreciated that because it made your job so much easier, now you had a pretty good idea of what you wanted to do.

“Wow, that’s great!” you said, when he had finished giving you his detailed opinion on one of the outfits. “Why don’t you try it on, and then we can tweak any parts that you’re not happy with.” You handed him the outfit and pointed him towards a changing room in the back of the studio.

You sat on the sofa waiting for him to come out, and when he did your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. He’d foregone wearing a shirt underneath the jacket, and had zipped it only halfway, so a good part of his chest was showing. The leather pants were skintight, straining against his muscular thighs, and showing too much of what was between his legs that you had to look away. He came and stood in front of you, so that you were eye level with his crotch.

“What do you think, noona?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t currently a walking thirst trap.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, standing up quickly so that his crotch wasn’t in your view, “looks great!” you fiddled with the fabric, adjusting here and there, but you found that doing that made you touch him far too much. Brushes of your hands against his body, and you could feel the firmness even through the fabric. You were also so close to him that you could feel him breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest under your hands. The worst part, however, was that you could smell him, a scent so intoxicating that it made your head spin.

He watched you the entire time, not saying a word, his eyes following your movements. You started to get nervous under his stare, with the intense way he was looking at you, and you fumbled with the zipper of the jacket trying to zip it up further to cover him up and salvage some of your sanity. Close to the top, it got stuck, probably because your hand was shaking and you couldn’t do it smoothly. You tried to unstick it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Here, let me try,” Jaehyun offered, but it was stuck fast and wouldn’t move.

“We’ll have to cut you out of it, it’s just a sample so no big deal,” you said, turning around to get some fabric scissors to cut with. Just then there was a loud tearing sound echoing in the room, and you turned around in shock to see Jaehyun had ripped the jacket open, his chest now fully exposed, nipples perking from the coolness of the air conditioning.

“I got it,” he said cockily, a smirk forming on his lips as he watched your reaction.

Your jaw was probably on the floor, eyes bulging out of your sockets. Your hands reached towards him, whether to cover him up or touch his chest you really couldn’t tell. Your reaction seemed to embolden him though, because he stepped forward towards you, right into your personal space.

“Do you like what you see, noona?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

You were now eye level with his chest, and you had to admit, you really liked what you were seeing.

“I know I had a little crush on you when I was younger,” he continued, his voice as sweet as honey, “but I’m older now,” he leaned even closer to you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “bigger too.”

Everything he was saying and doing was going straight to your core, and your hands flew up and fisted into his torn jacket. He grabbed your hips and spun you around so that you were both facing the mirror.

“Do you like me, noona?” he asked sweetly, pulling your hair to one side so he could have access to your neck. You angled your head to open up more of your neck to him, falling hopelessly under his spell.

“Yes,” you breathed, and he didn’t quite kiss you yet, just his lips hovering over your skin. You could feel goosebumps forming as you watched him in the mirror, teasing you.

“Would you like it if I kissed you?” he said, breath hot against your neck.

“Yes,” you nodded, watching in breathless anticipation as he leaned further in. Just before his lips connected with your skin he locked eyes with you in the mirror and smirked.

Your knees went weak as he sucked harshly on your skin, there were no tentative or tender kisses, just all out sucking, teeth grazing, definitely leaving marks that you’d have to hide. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place, and soon enough you could feel his hard bulge pressing against your ass.

You tried not to moan out loud, but then his hands started to roam, one of them moving up under your shirt, up your stomach, over your bra. He groaned when he felt only the flimsy lace separating his fingers from your perked nipple. He pinched it, and you couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped your lips.

“Oh fuck, noona,” he groaned into your shoulder, “I knew you would sound sexy.”

While you were too busy basking in the pleasure of his fingers pinching your nipples, you barely noticed that his other hand had moved down, undoing your jeans and slipping over the matching lace of your panties. You inhaled sharply as he cupped your pussy, gripping it almost possessively.

“Is this okay, noona?” he asked, and you could hear him breathing heavily.

“Yessss,” you breathed out, the word elongating because now he was tearing your shirt off and unhooking your bra, throwing the garments to a corner of the room. Your upper half was now bare to him, and he looked at you in the mirror, eyes hungry with lust.

“Fuck, you’re more beautiful than I ever remembered,” he said, awe in his voice, before he went back to pinching your nipples. He watched you in the mirror as you whimpered, tweaking and pinching and pulling lightly, and the louder you got the harder he did it.

“You like that, don’t you, noona?” His voice sweet like honey again. He pulled the hand out that was cupping your pussy and yanked your jeans and underwear down, so that now you were completely bare to him.

“So fucking sexy,” he groaned, pressing his obvious erection even harder against your ass. He was still fully clothed and you were completely naked, and for some reason that turned you on even more. You were sure you were dripping wet for him and sure enough, when you looked in the mirror you could see your arousal glistening on the insides of your thighs. This observation didn’t escape him either, his hand slipping between your legs, middle finger rubbing the wetness along your slit.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned right into your ear, and you moaned even louder, throwing your head back against his shoulder as his finger made a mess of you.

“Do you like this, noona?” he whispered, slipping two fingers inside you. You arched your back as his fingers penetrated you, a long drawn out moan the only answer you could manage to his question. “Does it feel good?” he asked, thrusting his fingers deeper inside of you. You could only nod vigorously, your limbs turning to jelly as the pleasure coursed through your body. You could feel the knot in the pit of your stomach starting to form, and you started panting as it crept up on you.

“Are you close, noona?” he breathed into your ear, picking up the pace, ramming his fingers so hard into you that you couldn’t help but cry out, clinging onto his arm as the knot in your stomach snapped, and you came, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

“So fucking hot,” he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you. He gave you a moment of reprieve, letting you rest for a moment against his chest as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. You watched his face in the mirror as he rubbed the tip of it against your wet folds, his lips pursed with concentration, his eyes dark and hooded. Once again he looked up and locked eyes with you in the mirror, a sexy smirk forming on his face before he rammed his cock into your pussy from behind.

You almost fell forward from the force of his thrust but he caught you, arms around your middle as he fucked into you. There was no gentleness in his movements, just power and raw strength, and that aroused you so much you thought you would pass out. You held onto his arms for dear life as he pounded ruthlessly into you, your throat already getting hoarse from the needy whines and whimpers that you couldn’t hold back.

“You like it, noona?” he growled into your ear, “You like my cock?”

“Fuck, yes!” you screamed, your eyes glazing over as the pleasure once again spread throughout your body.

“You look so good with my cock buried inside you,” he whispered, “look at how your pretty pussy swallows my cock.” He spread your thighs apart so you could see in the mirror, and you were mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared into your pussy. Suddenly he lifted you up by your thighs like you weighed nothing, and bounced you on his cock, opening up your legs even further for a better view.

“That’s better,” he said, pleased at how much more he could see now.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and you were a mess. Your hair was all over the place, your mascara was smudged, your lipstick smeared. Your jaw was slack and your eyes were glassy, you couldn’t believe how fucked out you looked. It only served to spur Jaehyun on.

“Fuck, you look so hot bouncing on my cock,” he said, voice raspy, gripping your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have an imprint of his fingers there. The way he was manhandling you, the filthy things coming from his mouth, all served to bring you to your second orgasm of the day, clenching hard around him.

“That’s it, noona, come for me, come all over my cock,” he growled, breath coming in short gasps, signalling that he was close, “you’re so fucking sexy when you come.”

You screamed when you came, his thrusts so hard and deep you could swear you felt him in your guts.

“I’m gonna come, noona,” he said through gritted teeth, and at that moment you had the overwhelming urge to taste him.

“In my mouth,” you panted, and he obliged, pulling you off him and setting you down on your feet. You were glad you didn’t have to stand, your legs wobbly as you knelt down in front of him. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his cock was, red and angry and glistening with your juices, and you took it into your mouth hungrily.

“Oh fuck, noona!” he cried out, his hands threading through your hair. He was watching you bob on his cock in the mirror, trying to hold out because you looked so hot doing it.

“That’s it, noona,” he encouraged, “your mouth feels so good,” he threw his head back, concentrating, but he slipped momentarily and rammed his cock down your throat. You gagged for a second, but the feeling actually turned you on, and you tried to take more of him into your mouth as you could.

“Oh shit, noona,” he moaned, “you like that, don’t you?”

You looked up at him and nodded, and the look in his eyes was almost feral. He took a hold of your head then, and started to fuck your throat, once again sparing you no mercy. He was rough on you and you loved it, pulling at your hair just hard enough that the pain mixed with the pleasure, and you could feel the wetness once again pooling between your legs. Your throat constricting around his cock triggered his orgasm, and he groaned loudly as his warm cum spilled down your throat. You took it all, swallowing every drop, and when he pulled out you swiped your tongue along the tip.

“Holy fucking shit, noona,” he swore, his eyes wide with awe as he looked down at you. He tried to keep up his cocky demeanor, but traces of the shyness from the day before were there too, and you couldn’t help but smile. He helped you stand up and gathered you into his arms, smiling somewhat shyly at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yes, very much okay.” You answered, although you knew you’d have marks on your neck and imprints on your thighs that you’d have to answer for. Either way it was worth it, as you finally discovered what that boy with the dimples was all about.

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

382 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

283 notes · View notes

universalistotalis · 3 years

Text

The Fifth Date

Bokuto Koutarou (Timeskip!!!) x Female Reader

credits to the owner of the picture :)

3k words

kinda long but it's worth it i guess

Masterlist!!!

You can’t believe this. You just can’t!

“Hey, are you alright?” Bokuto Koutarou looked at you with utmost sincerity in his eyes. You looked up and wondered if he really was worried or just being polite but either way, you stared right at his pupils.

“I am.” You agreed, letting go of his gaze and wanting to end the conversation.

This was your fifth date with him but there were no sparks since the first. You just didn’t feel his vibes and he could be so noisy at times which you hated. There was selfishness underneath his skin and it reeked in your nostrils. You hated egotistic people and you weren’t going to tolerate this much longer.

What your friends saw in Bokuto, you had no idea! They were all swooning over him when they set you up on a date together. They kept saying that he was perfect so you, being the hopeless romantic that you are, expected a prince who would be a gentleman, who would listen to you talk for hours on end, who would be so loving and caring… But instead, you were presented with boastfulness and chaos all wrapped up into one big muscle of a man! He did look like a prince but that was it!

“You know you can tell me right? I’ll listen.” You didn’t mistake the softness in his voice as he continued to stare at you lovingly.

You didn’t know if it was the beautiful place that he brought you to or if it was his kindness that made your brain turn into mush. But for the first time in five dates, your heart was hammering, its beats already like drums in your ears.

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered and kept your eyes on the horizon.

You heard him sigh beside you on the railing you were both leaning on. The place you both drove to was divine as it overlooked the city. The twinkling lights below were mimicking the stars above and there were lanterns that hung overhead as well, casting the whole place in a lazy glow. You took a deep breath of the fresh air as you calmed yourself from the most stressful day of your life and from your whirlwind of a date.

A little rustling was heard and before you knew it, you were enveloped in warmth and his scent. Bokuto wrapped his jacket around you, letting you face him, so that he could pull the zipper up to your chest.

“There, so you won’t have to worry.” He smiled sweetly.

So he did notice the large coffee stain on your shirt and not once did he show that he was irked by it. You tried your best to cover it but of course you can't. Everyone at work gave you the side glance or the 'what-the-fuck-happened-to-you' look but he didn’t!

This can’t be happening. Were you reminiscing all those moments with Koutarou? AND NOW YOU’RE CALLING HIM KOUTAROU?!

You rolled around on your bed, a pillow tucked underneath your arms. A muffled scream was released as you felt an intense tingling sensation all over your body. You were supposed to end that fifth date! You were supposed to tell him that you both should see other people!

But the way he acted that night… it was as if he’s… perfect.

“Don’t hide from me.” He whispered in your ear as you cried in his arms. As his scent and warmth put your senses to overdrive with the jacket, you couldn’t help but sob. It was like the world was against you today. Even the document from work that you were so ready to pass, crashed on you. Even the coffee that you made this morning with care, splashed your white collared shirt. Even your ID lace that seemed so insignificant, decided to get caught on the doorknob and almost snapped your neck in two! And to spice things up, your evil boss humiliated you in the inter-department presentation even when the CEO of the company congratulated you on a job well done!

It was the little depressing and annoying moments that accumulated in your chest.

“Today has been s-so hard.” You cried in his shirt. “I keep on trying my best but it’s like I’m not doing enough. I'm not enough.”

The gentle rocking of your body stopped as he heard the words fall out of your mouth.

“Hey, don’t say that.” He cooed and trying to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re more than enough.”

You shook your head and tried to avoid his eyes again as he searched for yours. Fingers gripped on your chin to steady you and you melt for the nth time tonight.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Alright? This day may have been difficult for you and maybe there are more days that would be the same but you shouldn’t doubt your efforts. The fact that you made it through, that’s already something to be grateful about.” He said while wiping your tears away. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t cry about them once in a while. Let yourself feel but then get back up again, yeah?”

You nodded but you felt another round of sobs escape your mouth. He pouted as he saw your wounded state and again, you were held close to his broad chest, away from the hurt, the pain, the stress…

This was dangerous. Are you actually falling for him? You’re actually falling for the loud guy that you swore you hated?!

‘Hey, hey, hey!’

His voice reverberated inside your skull and with that sound came the print of his smile on your brain. He had the nicest set of teeth and the nicest golden eyes you’ve ever seen. His skin was flawless too and under any light, you swore he was shining.

You couldn’t help but grin at the—

Yes…

This is bad. Really bad.

“You wanna dance?” He offered his hand out to you, smiling shyly. You were surprised at his somehow timid expression as you were so used to him being his confident self.

“I don’t know how.” You said breathlessly as you stared at his gorgeous face.

He let out a chuckle and reached out for your hand under the table. “Let’s figure it out, c’mon.”

The platform was small and there were four couples slowly dancing to the romantic song that was being played by a live band.

He led your hands to encircle his neck while his rested on your waist. All the motions, even the slightest graze of his skin on yours, were making your mind hazy. Everything seemed to blur and the only thing that made sense were the two of you in each other’s embrace.

“You’re so tall.” You whispered mindlessly which made him chuckle. He noticed that you could barely wrap your arms around his neck and that your arms were getting floppy due to fatigue. He then guided you to hug him around his waist instead so he could pull you closer.

“I’ve never danced like this before.” He confessed, swaying stiffly at the music.

“I can tell.” You giggle and look up at him in time to see him pout.

He poked your side, deliberately tickling you for a while. “That’s mean.”

“But it’s my first time too. And I kinda like it.” You said shyly, feeling your cheeks warm even with the cold night air.

“You think you could get used to it?” He asked, hope laced in his question.

“Of course.” You smiled up at him.

He smiled back and his eyes twinkled as he stared. He scooped your right hand and brought it to his lips for a quiet kiss then slowly intertwined your fingers with his, all while maintaining eye contact.

“AHHHHHHHHH!” You screamed into your pillow again as your head played that scene.

Sleep was so far away now that your adrenaline was so high because of him! You swore you could still feel his lips on your skin. It was as if he imprinted it there and nothing on earth can take that away now.

“Bokuto, stop haunting me! Let me sleep!”

“Now, listen here, missy.” The owner of the restaurant pointed to you sternly as she stood behind the counter. “Tell this boyfriend of yours to stop going here and actually get some much deserved rest! Athletes shouldn’t be tiring themselves!”

You chuckled at her actions and stole a glance at Bokuto who’s pouting excessively at the older woman with his hair seemingly deflating at her ministrations.

“But I like your food!” He whined.

The woman clicked her tongue, as if annoyed. “You can have better food from where you live. Now, stop pestering me!”

“I will come back here more often if you say that!” He smirked and leaned on the counter.

“As if! I know you’ll come back no matter what happens.” She rolls her eyes then turned to you. “We can’t get rid of him even if we wanted to!”

They kept bickering back and forth as you waited for the fruit shakes and other snacks that Bokuto ordered for takeout. It was a long drive back home and he said didn’t want you to get thirsty or hungry. You just listened to their banters and even though they were dissing each other out, you can’t miss the loving and motherly look the owner had for Bokuto.

“You’re a regular here?” You asked him as you settled on the carseat.

“I’m a fan of the view. And as you saw, I’m quite close with the owners and the workers. This is my safe space.” He replied and started the engine.

“When was the last time you went here?” You inquired, suddenly curious of his whereabouts.

“Yesterday.” He shrugged. “And the day before that. And maybe the whole of last week.”

Your eyes widened at his answer. “This is like two or three hours away! How?!”

“I needed some place to relax. And think.” He smiled sadly as maneuvered the car to begin the journey back home.

“Are you alright?” You blinked at your question. His voice seemed low and so sad in contrast to his usual loud and noisy screeches that you were so damn used to. This Bokuto in front of you was so hard to read!

He turned to you for a split second before averting his eyes on the road. “I am. I guess.”

“Don’t hide from me.” You bit your lip hard as you repeated his words to you. You wanted to know him more, to understand his feelings, and to make him feel better.

“Hey, you can’t use my lines against me.” He laughed lightly as he looked at you. Your eyes were begging him to tell you how he is and who was he to resist? “I’m just nervous about the incoming games, that’s all.”

“You still get nervous?” You turned to him, a little surprised.

“Why are you so shocked? Of course, I do! Some less nerve- wrecking than the others but I do always get tension at every game.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair while thinking. “But the upcoming match is a qualifying game for the Olympics so everyone is anxious.”

“Who are you against with?” You asked.

“See, now that’s another one of my worries. The competitors have still not been announced so we have to wait for a month. A whole month! What am I supposed to do?!” He said exasperatedly. “And just last week, one of our teammates got injured so they gave us time off. You know, to rest and shit. But I am restless and—"

“So that’s why you come all the way here?” You concluded.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “The drive gets my mind off of the anxiety and their food just makes me feel like I’m home.”

‘So he is human after all.’ You said to yourself. It was the simplest realization but it did so many wonders for your feelings and understanding towards him.

The drive home was filled with stories of sadness and laughter. You both sipped at your drinks and munched at the chips he bought. And as you both neared your home, it dawned on you that this was the best date you’ve ever had in your life! Bokuto’s so laid back and chill, kind and generous. He listened so intently and patiently to all your life stories and he had a good memory too, remembering the things you’ve told him about yourself in the past dates.

You sighed while sitting up. There’s no question that you were falling in deep for this guy. During the drive, he became his noisy self, acting all the spikes he did at the games comically but instead of being annoyed, you had tears in your eyes because you had laughed so much at his acting. You loved listening to him talk and you realized he wasn’t selfish at all!

Go figure.

Maybe you just mistook his confidence for selfishness and egocentricity.

You can’t believe that you were itching to lengthen the time you had with him. The car was now parked in front of where you lived and it was time to say goodbye.

Your eyes met and there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes which surprised you.

“Look.” He turned to the passenger seat and leaned closer. “I know that I’m not the best date there is and you may have been agreeing to these just because of obligation from your friends but… I’d like you to know that I—“

Closing his eyes, he exhaled. “I really like you.”

As the words were uttered, your body visibly tenses under his gaze.

Panic rises in his gut as he realized what he did. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“N-no!” You tried to swallow. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen ghost?” He chuckled lightly not giving up his stares.

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

He nodded, still looking. “I guess this will be our last, huh?”

“What?”

“I know you don’t like me and you hate my company. I just really like you so I tried to drag it out for so long.” He said sheepishly as he deflated back into his seat. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I’m so sorry if I did.”

This was not how you imagined ending your date. You were supposed to be the one saying that this will be the last. You were supposed to be excited about not seeing him again. You were supposed to go now! But the universe really did pull a reverse card on you today.

“Bokuto…” You started, feeling the guilt consume you to the bones. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that I didn’t like you.”

He was fiddling with his fingers now.

“It's just that your first impressions lasted so bad that it blinded me to who you really were.” Be honest. Just be fuckin’ honest! “I did think I didn’t like you but after tonight, you proved me wrong.”

His face looked at you in a flash, eyes finding the meaning behind your words.

“I didn’t know you could be like this!” You gestured to him, a little frustrated because your heart was pounding so bad and it became so difficult to breathe.

“Like what?” A smirk was beginning to form at his lips.

“This!” You laughed. “You’re fun to be with. You’re calm and reliable when needed. And just… yeah.” You’re just perfect.

You stared at each other’s eyes for a while longer, trying to read and drown in each other.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it another try?” You asked, hoping to god he’ll say yes to your request.

His eyes widened for a moment and his gray hair perked up a little bit.

“I told you I like you.” He smiled. “Why would I say no to that?”

Your phone beeped beside you. And if you weren’t so red enough from the memory, you knew that you were flaming red now.

It was a text from Bokuto.

Can’t sleep :(

You sighed at what he said. His anxiety about the game catches onto him so much that he often gets insomnia. The poor baby. You were about to reply when another text popped out.

I may or may not be outside your home.

“What?!” You panicked while swiftly looking for a hoodie to put on. Why is he here and why were you feeling excited at the thought of seeing him?

You asleep, little owl?

You bolted towards the doors and true enough, he was there, leaning on his car and dazzling in all his six feet and three inches glory. He looked unreal in this light even in his simple hoodie and joggers.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His husky voice greeted you as you walked closer.

“No. Can’t sleep too.” You smiled. “What brings you here?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know what came over him when he closed your distance and hugged you tight. To him, you looked like an angel sent to earth only for his eyes to see! You were in an oversized hoodie, hair a little tousled, and your face was so calm under the moonlight. Something inside him prickled at the thought of being domestic with you.

Slowly your arms wrapped around his waist and you surrendered your weight to him. In that moment, he felt like he would burst! Never did he expect for this to happen, for you to give him a chance, but here you were. He deeply breathed in your scent and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Your voice was a mere whisper when you looked up at him.

“Like a date?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Yeah?” You nodded.

He wondered if you had any idea about how you're making him feel crazier by the minute. If you don’t, then that’s much worse. “What am I gonna do with you?” He chuckled, arranging stray locks of your hair.

“You can go on a date with me.” You laughed and he was sure, so sure, that you felt his heart do a cartwheel when you were resting your head on his chest.

“I’d like that.” He replied hugging you tighter.

It was funny to you that you planned that fifth date to be the last. It turned out to be the first. The first real date where you felt like a princess in a fairytale. It was the first out of a never- ending series of romantic dates because Bokuto Koutarou had no plans of letting you go. Ever.

Okay, wait, hear me out. Have you seen that scene where Bokuto and Akaashi were just outside the hotel and they were just talking all calm and casual? MA'AM THAT'S WHERE I DIED SEEING BOKUTO AHHHH HE'S JUST SO PRECIOUS AND I DO BELIEVE HE CAN BE SERIOUS AND MATURE IF GIVEN THE CHANCE. I AM SIMPING HARD HELP

Masterlist!!!

Reblogs, replies are appreciated! <3

107 notes · View notes

midnightsconspiracy · 3 years

Text

Office Romance?

Office Romance? - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: It's Mouse’s first day in the 21st district. Jay introduces him to the whole team, except you who seems to always be out until you finally meet at Molly’s and completely hit it off

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2193

Requested: Nope but my requests are currently open

A/N: This is my first time writing for Mouse and the longest fic I’ve written, so hopefully everyone likes it! :)

Masterlist

It was Mouse’s first day in Intelligence, it was finally the day that he was going to turn his life around. No longer living in sketchy areas and gaining felonies but instead becoming a legit member of society and working for a reputable institution, the Chicago police department. He had been recommended to the boss by his friend and former military buddy Jay Halstead, who unlike himself, had managed to get a proper holding in society after being discharged from the Rangers. This was finally his chance to show Jay and everyone else who cares about him that he could do something else good with his life and that he was more than just his time in the military.

Meeting Jay outside the district, the two men embrace in a warm hug, briefing saying their hellos and reminiscing on old times before they ascended the stairs. They pasted Sergeant Platt, Jay giving her a small hello in which she ignored and Mouse, despite having only met her once, gave her a polite smile. Punching in the passcode alongside his handprint, he unlocked the door climbing the second set of stairs up to the place he would call ‘home’ for hopefully years to come. Reaching the top Jay paused, Mouse quick to follow his actions.

“Guys this is Mouse, Mouse this is the Unit. That’s Dawson, Lindsay, Olinsky, Atwater, Nadia, and Sergeant Voight’s in his office.” The people in the room all averted their gaze from their own individual work, with Voight even exiting his office to greet him as well, to greet the newest member of the team, all presenting him with a momentary smile, short greeting, or handshake.

“Oh and Y/LN and Ruzek are currently out chasing up a lead right now but should be back soon,” Jay quickly followed up, trying to familiarise his buddy up with as much as possible to make him as comfortable as he could, knowing mouse struggled with rejoining society.

“Ok-k, well it's good meeting everyone, and I hope I can be of assistance to you all,” he mumbled out nervously, he admired Jay and Voight for giving him this opportunity but it still didn’t stop the feelings that they had a level of superiority over him due to their jobs. Taking him downstairs to his own tech room, he prompted Mouse to take a look around to get accustomed to his surroundings.

“What do you think buddy?

“I think it will do the job just fine,” he smiled back to jay reassuring him that he could do this.

“Ok, well if you’re all good I’ve got work to do myself,” Jay announced before turning and leaving Mouse to his own devices, finally leaving him to prove himself worthy.

—————

Mouse’s day was hectic, to say the least. Members of the team were constantly in and out of the tech room or calling him, getting him to give them vital information as quickly as he possibly could. But he thrived in the conditions present, what previously was extreme anxiety when he first entered turned into adrenaline. He hadn’t experienced such a high-intensity situation since his time at the Rangers, but he loved it. The Rangers was the place he felt most at home and alive, but the ‘accident’ had caused him to be honourably discharged. He wanted to be back in Afghanistan with Jay and his other military buddies desperately, feeling as though he had a place there, that he was actually contributing something good to the world, but this would do for the time, this was the best thing for him right now.

From what he could figure out, the unit was dealing with a human trafficking case in which multiple girls were found dead by the Docks, thrown into a container, and starved to death. Pulling up the names of multiple different men, he stared into their eyes as the pictures came up on his screen and felt no remorse for them as he heard each man be dragged into the cage one by one. The team managed to successfully find lead after lead, deciding to either all roll out together or keep sending Ruzek and Y/LN out. It was already about halfway through the day and Mouse still had not met the said people, only occasionally hearing their voices or being told to send them the information he was finding.

—————

As the day further progressed things started to flatline, leads found previously being a bust and nobody seeming to find anything worthwhile. The whole team worked tireless upstairs as Mouse found them the material they needed downstairs. Finally, after an hour of absolutely nothing, Dawson managed to get vital information from a CI and so a feasible lead was afoot. As the others were gearing up and getting ready to finally make some arrests, Jay popped his head into Mouse’s tech cave.

“Mouse I need you to send me the information on Spencer Phillips ASAP,” he was just about to walk out when he turned his head slightly to utter a few final words to his friend,

“And good job buddy, we really appreciate it.” Mouse smiled as he looked up the information for Jay, maybe he was going something good for the world, especially if his dearest friend thought so.

—————

The lead had been successful and two arrests of notable people in a human trafficking ring were arrested. The case was not fully closed, the organisation still up and running, but the perpetrators of the murders were put away to never see a day in the sun again. That was enough for Voight to warrant the members of his team a break to go home, rest and in the younger detective's case visit the local bar, Molly’s. Coming back up to the main room Jay greeted Mouse, patting him on the back for a job well done, he had underestimated his friend, thinking that he may struggle with his job just as he had coped with his anxiety and PTSD after coming back from the Middle East. Walking further into the room Mouse finally got to see the infamous man who had manage to evade his line of sight for the whole working day, Adam Ruzek. Approaching him he finally got to introduce himself.

“Hi, it's nice to finally meet you”

“Yeah, you too Mouse, I feel like I’ve been swept off my feet the whole day, you coming to Molly’s”

“I wasn’t planning to but sure why not?” Mouse had a vague idea of what Molly’s was, Jay sometimes talking about the bar run by first responders, but he was excited to finally see it for himself. Turning to Jay, who was packing his stuff up at his desk, he assumed he would want to go to the bar alongside the rest of the team,

“Molly’s then?” He smirked knowing Jay would never turn him or drinking down,

“Of course.” Leaving the district together, the two guys headed in the direction of the bar relieved to finally get away from work and have some downtime. Unbeknown to them you were in the changing room with Kim chatting away, excited to go for a drink and ready to go upstairs to meet the new tech guy. Little did you know you would be very disappointed when you did so.

—————

Arriving at the bar the men settled into the unit's usual booth at the back of the bar, flagging down Hermann to get two beers so that they could finally unwind from a long day of stressful events.

“The rest of the team should be here shortly, but how was your first day buddy, tell me all,” Jay asked hoping that his friend liked the position so that he could work towards becoming an outstanding member of the community and chuffed that he was working alongside his best friend once more.

“It was good man, I don’t really know what else to say about it. Um..I finally felt as if I was doing something with myself, I felt that adrenaline I missed from the Rangers, but I miss it, the thrill, the relationships, everything really Jay.” Jay sighed not knowing what to say, annoyed at his friend for missing it, he had spent so long trying to pull Mouse out of that bad place, a constant cycle of anxiety, depression, and PTSD, that it hurt him that he wanted to go back. The tense situation was interrupted by the rest of the team arriving, taking up the rest of the room in the booth with Erin snuggling up to Jay and Adam getting up to buy a round for the table. All the usual suspects were there enjoying themselves, except one, you.

You had gone home to shower and get out of your work clothes before making your way to meet the rest of the team for some rest and relaxation, maybe nestling a few beers throughout the night. Making your way into the bar, you passed members of firehouse 51, making small talk with them before moving towards Hermann to get yourself an alcoholic beverage. Thanking him you turned to walk over to your unit's table, spotting an unfamiliar figure in the corner of the booth next to jay, which you could assume was the new tech guy Mouse.

“Christ Y/LN where have you been?” Your partner Adam boomed, already a little tipsy from the two beers he had consumed.

“Sorry I had to go home first, wanted to freshen up,” you smiled amused at how much of a lightweight Adam really was, despite claiming otherwise.

“Y/N this is Mouse, I don’t think you’ve met yet,” Jay interrupted you, drawing your attention away to introduce you to the nervous man beside him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you noticed how attractive he was, you had just presumed that Mouse would be less than average looking considering his measly nickname, but no, the man in front of you was undeniably handsome with a charming smile and deep blue eyes.

“Hi, it's nice to meet you, sorry I didn’t meet you earlier, seems like we were both at the wrong place at the wrong time,” you gave a shy smile, sitting down next to Kevin trying to look confident despite the nervousness you felt inside.

“I-its good to meet you to Y/N, seems like the universe is not in our favour huh?” He stuttered equally as nervous, for what you assumed was first-time jitters, but little did you know it was because he found you equally as attractive.

——————

Throughout the night you continued talking with all members of your unit but especially Mouse. You felt naturally drawn to him, not just because of your attraction but also the stories he told that fascinated you, some from his days in the rangers and other ones from his childhood. By the end of the night, you too had managed to move to sit next to each other, with the members of your unit seeing you hit it off immediately and so pushed you together hoping for another office romance. Completely enamoured by him, you didn’t even notice that the other people in the bar were starting to trickle out slowly and Hermann’s last order was thirty minutes ago. Finally noticing your surroundings after the bartender had called your name and told you it was closing time, you checked your watch noticing the late time. Turning to Mouse you smiled and softly spoke about the revelation,

“I didn’t even realise how late it was, maybe we should get out of here, wait wait! Not like that, well unless you want you.” Noticing what you had said, you shyly smiled hoping he wouldn’t think you were too weird.

“That sounds good,” he cheekily smirked moving out of the booth, allowing you to get out too and heading towards the doors of the bar, saying a brief goodnight to Hermann on your way out. You walked down the street together to where your cars were parked, going at a slow pace, trying to extend your time together for as long as possible. Locating your car you stood next to it as you went to say your goodbyes to the handsome man in front of you.

“Thank you for keeping me company tonight, I really enjoyed it”

“Yeah me too, but I was hoping we could do it again sometime, just you and me?” Completely taken aback you stuttered to think of your response, you weren’t not thrilled about it at all, just completely surprised that he liked you as you did him.

“I’d love to Mouse, give me your phone,” handing you his phone you put your number in, silently hoping he would be one of those guys that actually use your number instead of ignoring it completely. Proceeding to hand it back, you both stood in silence not knowing what to say. But in this situation, no words were needed, only actions. So when he leaned in to place his lips, you gladly reciprocated the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. Little did you know this would lead to a lifetime of desire and devotion.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #greg gerwitz #greg gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz imagines #greg mouse gerwitz

204 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

the honeymooners | taemin (m)

title: the honeymooners pairing: taemin x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff request: “Taemin and his new bride get into a fight at the hotel they’re staying at in China because she saw her ex and was all touchy(not purposely) and he was jealous that other men looked at her despite she being HIS wife so he reminds her who she married after they get back to their hotel room and he shows her how much he loves her body & soul as they make love and after he apologizes for being so angry,tells her he loves her so much+is blessed to her hubby and can’t wait to have kids with her. ❤️” word count: 4.1k warnings: oral (female receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex (don’t try at home 🤪), creampie

For your honeymoon, you and Taemin decided to spend a few weeks in Shanghai. Everything was planned out ahead of time to make sure you’d have the best time possible — from the hotel you were staying in to the things you were going to see around the city.

Things had been going well for the first few days — just as well as you hoped and wished they would, and you honestly couldn’t imagine asking for anything more perfect. Well, that is, up until one particular night at the hotel where you were staying at.

You and Taemin had decided to eat dinner there that night instead of going somewhere else within the city, being a little worn out from all the sightseeing and activities and not wanting to make another long trip back and forth, so you headed to the hotel’s dining room.

Partly, though, you also suspected that Taemin didn’t want to spend anymore time out in the city because he was a little incensed about all the stares you were getting. Wherever you went that day, there were at least one or two men looking your way, perhaps a little more closely than they should’ve been. It hadn’t been an unusual thing to get stares since you arrived in Shanghai—you were a foreigner in a new land—but today, it was more intense.

Taemin had enough sense not to blame it on you or what you were wearing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to be angry with the men who were looking at you. He’d held your hand a little tighter, pulled you around the waist more closely, leaned in more than necessary to hear your words whenever you spoke to him. He wanted people to know you were taken—though it was already obvious and didn’t seem to deter the glances either way.

You’d tried to laugh the lingering looks off, but Taemin didn’t find it as nearly as amusing as you did. Still, you continue to hope that you can steer his mind away from this subject once you get to the dining room and start on your meal.

“Everything is so fancy here,” you say after you’ve taken your seats at a table. “I’m glad we chose this hotel. You don’t get to see this kind of luxury everyday.’

“I’m glad, too.” Taemin scans his eyes across the room, taking in its elegance and beauty in a way that he hadn’t got to do when you’d first arrived in the city. Already, he feels a little more calm after getting away from the prying gazes of so many people out on the streets.

However, something out of the ordinary soon catches his attention. “Isn’t that…?” Taemin pauses and cocks an eyebrow when he sees a familiar face across the room—one he’d rather not recognize. Your ex-boyfriend.

“Who?” you ask, but your question is immediately answered when you also see the man standing across the other side of the room. “Jesus, is that Joseph?”

“He works as a waiter here? Of all hotels in the world?” Taemin says, instantly looking a bit disgruntled. If he’d somehow known that, he honestly never would’ve booked this place, but it’s far too late to do anything about that. Maybe that’s an extreme way to try to avoid your spouse’s ex, but Taemin didn’t want to have anything to do with the man and wasn’t interested in starting now.

You and Taemin were friends long before you began a relationship and got married, and this particular ex was one Taemin was never quite fond of. Back when you and Joseph were still together, he always liked to make a show of having you on his arm and engaging in PDA at every possible opportunity. You, thinking it was a funny and cute way of showing affection, didn’t have much to say about it at first, but it annoyed Taemin to no end.

It seemed to Taemin that Joseph did everything he could to show you off as a trophy. Not because he genuinely felt anything for you, but because he simply liked being able to say you were his. He even liked the attention and envy that came from other women who’d wished they were his instead, even if it ended up with you being embroiled in drama.

Maybe that was just Taemin being petty back when he didn’t even realize he loved you, but he still swears there were a hundred other reasons besides those to dislike the man. Besides, he felt more justified in his theory when, after breaking up with Joseph, you told Taemin you felt your relationship was just too surface-level, no matter how hard you tried to get closer to him.

“It really is a small world,” you say, though Taemin sees more irony than humor in it.

As if the luck couldn’t get any better, Joseph ends up being the waiter assigned to your table for the night. Taemin has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at Joseph’s recognition of you two, complete with the overdone gasping and the shocked eyes about to pop out of his head. If there’s one thing he’ll do, he’ll put on a show.

“Wow, Y/N! It’s been a long time, I would’ve never thought I’d see you here of all places! Funny how fate works, huh?” Joseph reaches out to shake your hand, and Taemin’s eyes squint at the sight of his hand in yours.

“Aha, yeah, it’s really ironic, isn’t it?” Your smile is kind enough, but you still feel a bit awkward about the whole situation.

Joseph turns his attention to Taemin, who is sitting with a half-smile, half-grimace on his face. “Congratulations on your marriage, by the way! I’m really glad Y/N found someone who’ll take care of her.”

“Uh, thank you.” It wouldn’t have been you anyway, Taemin thinks to himself, and smirks a little.

“How ironic that her future husband was her best friend all along...you know, I still remember when you used to wear that bowl cut.” Joseph laughs good-naturedly, probably thinking he’s just making a light joke, but Taemin isn’t quite so entertained by it.

“Ah, yes! Remember when you couldn’t grow a beard?” Both men laugh, though Joseph’s chuckle is a little bit more strained at that unwelcome memory. You laugh too, but only to try to keep the mood light and avoid making the situation even weirder than it already is.

“Um well, I’m gonna see what’s available if you guys aren’t done reminiscing on old times just yet...” you say, hastily flipping through the menu for something that looks good. Joseph takes your drink orders and goes off to prepare them, leaving the two of you to silently breathe a sigh of relief at his departure.

Taemin peeks at you from over the top of his menu, shaking his head slightly. He glances to the side as he does so, as if he expects the other man to still be watching your table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“It’ll only be that way if you already believe it is,” you counter. “Everything is fine. Just enjoy the meal, and we’ll be back up to the room soon enough.”

Unfortunately, you don’t yet have the ability to predict the future, so the night ends up being more uncomfortable than you anticipated it would. You maintain a polite manner with Joseph whenever he comes over to serve you two, but he does little things that seem to edge the line of “platonic,” like touching your hand or your shoulder a little too frequently.

Taemin bites his tongue only because he doesn’t want to start an argument with the man and make you upset on your honeymoon, but he’s also irritated with seeing him touching you almost like you’d never broken up. Like he did when he used to parade you around as if you were a state fair prize.

As always, Joseph is there when Taemin has paid the bill and you’re both ready to leave, and Taemin grits his teeth when he gives you a parting hug as you stand up from the table. In Taemin’s perspective, his eyes linger too long on your form in your evening gown, and his hands take too long to separate from where they’re holding your arms. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever feel like catching up, okay?”

You nod, feeling a little embarrassed because you know Taemin is fuming beside you, but you don’t want to be rude and cause a scene. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Joseph turns to Taemin and shakes his hand. “Nice to see you after so long, buddy. Take good care of her; you’ve gotten really lucky.”

Taemin squeezes his palm a little harder than what’s socially appropriate. If the other man notices this, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Taemin’s smile is fake and obviously doesn’t reach his eyes, but he forces one anyway.

You and Taemin leave the dining area arm-in-arm, though you feel he’s a little stiff beside you. You aren’t even sure what to say, still reeling from the situation yourself, though you do know you feel both guilty and irritated. “Look...I know that didn’t go very well. But please try to relax, Taemin. Honeymoons aren’t for being angry with each other.”

“You’re right. They aren’t. And yet...” Taemin’s tone is dry. “How can he be so bold? Hugging a married woman like that. He’s always been unbearable.”

“He was just...happy to see us! I don’t think he meant it as something deeper than that.”

“He was happy to see you,” Taemin argues. “He just wanted to get on my nerves. Do you really think it was normal for him to be touching you all night like that?”

You shake your head and sigh. “No, but what could I do? Throw a fit in the dining room and get kicked out? See, this is why I said you need to relax. Everything doesn’t need some overblown response.”

Taemin doesn’t heed your words, though; the ball is rolling now and you know it probably won’t stop. “Would you feel happy if it were the other way around?” he continues as you get on the elevator to go back to your floor. “I’m the one who’s married to you, yet I’m feeling like some kind of third wheel to all these men.”

“Okay, I get it. I wouldn’t be happy either, but none of this was my intention, Taemin.”

“I never said it was,” he sighs, and you get the sense that he’s frustrated you aren’t quite getting what he’s trying to convey. He doesn’t volunteer any more words after this, and you aren’t in the mood to try to pry further.

You’re both quiet for the rest of the ride up to your floor, with you having no clue what to say to rectify the mess and Taemin being too busy trying to sort out his own emotions.

When you get to the room, you decide to head for the shower alone—a contrast to the other times when you could barely peel Taemin off you this past week—and get ready for bed. You didn’t expect to be dealing with conflict during your honeymoon, but you guess it’s a first introduction to what married life will be like. You toss your shoes somewhere off to the side, sighing to yourself.

“Wait,” Taemin says as he sees you making a beeline for the bathroom. You glance back to him, though you keep half your body turned the other way, thinking he will try to continue arguing his point about why he’s upset. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering what he could possibly be talking about. “Show me what?

Taemin steps closer, diminishing the space between you, and despite yourself, you're curious to see what he’s up to. You soon find out just what his plans are when he kisses you. You hesitate for a moment when you feel his lips on yours, but you eventually respond to the gesture.

Taemin’s hand goes to one strap of your dress and tugs it so it falls down your shoulder. You part from him for a moment to glance at the fallen strap. “Now you want to do this? After getting all worked up earlier?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at his action.

“I can get angry about it if I want; you’re my wife,” Taemin retorts, tugging you even closer to him by the fallen strap of your dress. You’d almost laugh at his statement in any other situation; you’re a little reminded of his normal childish antics he likes to indulge in, but he looks perfectly serious here.

“And you think I don’t know that?” you reply, looking at him with eyes that are both searching for some kind of resolution and burning with irritation.

“Of course you know it. You’ve known it everyday since I slipped the ring on your finger, since we began our honeymoon, and you’ll continue to know it for as long as we both live.” Taemin speaks in a voice that isn’t quite demanding but still firm enough to make his point crystal clear; like he’s trying to make you understand while still handling you with kindness. “You’re everything to me, and I want to be sure you understand that I love you more than any other man could.”

Though you wish you had some clever response, you don’t quite know how to reply to that, because it’s true. He’s yet to fail in reminding you of all those things, but you also know he feels like he must prove himself right now. So you simply nod and bring your hand to his neck so you can kiss him again, feeling his soft lips under yours.

As the kiss deepens, you use your free hand to slip the other strap off so you can begin sliding your dress off, but Taemin parts from you and stops your movements instead.

“Get on the bed,” he says, “on all fours.”

You do so, wondering what move Taemin will make next. He pushes your dress up a bit so he can pull your underwear off, dragging the fabric off your body slowly. You don’t know where he throws your underwear to, but he climbs up on the bed behind you after he does.

You wait in anticipation to see what he’ll do, feeling his hands ghost over your hips and ass; then there’s the drag of your dress up over your hips and to your lower back, baring you to him.

“This is all mine,” he says quietly, and you feel his breaths on your skin. You tremble at being able to sense his presence behind you but being unsure where exactly he is, and then you gasp at feeling his tongue pushing at your entrance. Taemin holds you still against his probing tongue as you moan and whimper softly, trying to keep your voice to yourself for a reason you’re not entirely sure of. Maybe because you’re still a tiny bit upset and don’t yet want him to know how good he’s making you feel.

Taemin sets out to change that easily, though. He lets go of one of your hips to add his fingers in, sliding them against your soft inner flesh and feeling you get wetter from the action. His tongue slides further down to your clit and caresses the little nub, circling it and curling around it delicately. It makes the back of your neck warm, along with the rest of your body; the heat spreads through you as if you’re catching fire internally. You dig your knees more firmly into the mattress and grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as Taemin works on you.

You eventually have to lower yourself to the bed a little more so you can keep yourself stable. Taemin takes advantage of the slight change in position to push his fingers into you at a different angle, drawing more weakened sounds from you.

You’re disappointed when he pulls his mouth away, though he only does it to speak. “You taste so good and look so pretty like this…all spread open for me.” When returns to eating you out, he does it with greater determination this time, succeeding in pushing you headfirst into your first orgasm of the night.

“Oh God, Taemin…” you gasp as your climax floods through you, overtaking you like an ocean wave or a strong gust of wind. He doesn’t stop there and keeps pushing you up that peak of pleasure until you’re stumbling straight into another orgasm, his fingers manipulating your body and his mouth refusing to let go.

You finally sink to the mattress when he lets you go and gives you a reprieve. And even in your muddled state, you notice how he slips his hand under your stomach, helping you lower yourself to the bed, his palm warm and firm against you.

Taemin strips your dress the rest of the way off as you shake from the aftershocks of your orgasms, and he lifts your hips up some so he can do so, as you’re a bit too boneless to cooperate at the moment. He removes his suit jacket after that and unbuttons his shirt, and that is when you finally get enough strength back to turn over and watch from him your spot on the bed.

“Look at you,” you murmur, “Do you really think I’d ever look for anyone but you?”

Taemin smirks, slipping his shirt to the floor. He unbuttons his slacks, but he doesn’t take them off just yet; instead he pulls your ankles to bring you to the edge of the bed, making you yelp in the process.

“Hmm. Doesn’t it feel good to be recognized by someone who loves you?” he responds, grasping your arms and raising you forward so he can scoop you up. You secure your legs around his waist so you can hold on, and he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re getting his pants wet by doing so. You think he might take you against the wall, but he carries you over to a chair and table within the suite’s sitting room, located beside one of the large windows. He sets you down on the table, though you’re a bit reluctant to separate from him at first.

“Recognized…” you repeat, and then realize his words might’ve had a double meaning. You watch with questioning eyes as he pulls one of the curtains back, revealing the city’s nightscape to you. “Have you lost it?” Your suite is high up enough that no one from the ground level or the buildings below will easily be able to see you, but you still feel a thrill of fear and excitement rush up your spine.

Taemin turns back to you, and his smile is mischievous. “Not at all,” he says, and pushes both his pants and underwear off without a second thought. “If you don’t want to, we can easily put the curtain back in place.” He moves as if he’s going to do just that, but you reach out to stop him.

“Uh, wait, you don’t have to…”

Taemin comes back over to you and holds your face in his hands, and his wedding ring is slightly cool against your cheek. He whispers, “How does it feel to know we’re exposed like this? No one can see us, but we can see everything below...we belong only to each other.” His member pushes against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin. He’s hot and hard against you, his cock poking ever closer against your inner thigh and teasing your lower lips but not entering yet.

“It’s…” You glance at the faint reflection of your figures in the window as he hovers over you, situating his arms so they’re braced on either side of your body. You swallow harshly, trying to find the words to describe it. “It’s...weirdly erotic.”

Taemin takes your chin between his fingertips, guiding you to look at him. “So you like being watched? Did it excite you to have so many people looking at you today? Your ex?” Taemin’s tip pushes more firmly at your entrance and slips in, making you gasp and grip the edge of the table.

You shake your head as sweat beads up on your skin. “I only want you, Taemin.” You lean back on the table to look up at him with your most sincere eyes. He groans at the sight of you looking so pliant and submissive for him.

Taemin grips your hips as he pushes the rest of the way in, and he’s gentler than you’d expect given his earlier anger. Still, his thrusts are slow but deep as he pulls your hips into his, and you tremble and sigh as he glides against your walls so smoothly. It’s like he’s marking himself inside you so you’ll never be able to get rid of him.

Your eyes drift over to the window again, eyeing the many smaller buildings beneath you and observing the shadow-like reflections of your bodies merging together. Maybe he was right, to some degree. You do like the feeling of being seen-but-not-seen like this, completely wrapped up in each other even though your activities aren’t totally private.

Taemin slides his tongue into your mouth and spreads your legs wider as if he can burrow himself within the tight grip of your body forever. You’re willing to find out if he can. Your desire is spurred on by the idea of your husband filling every space inside you and causing you both to blend into one whole being.

His hands touch you all over, flitting across your skin like butterflies. His eyes, though, settle squarely on your face, holding your gaze inside his own. Although you’ve seen his sharp expressions when he performs on stage countless times, now his stare is characterized by a certain tenderness and a soft gleam, which threatens to bleed over into you and color you with its pure affection.

Seeing this look, you fully understand that there’s no hiding how much he loves you, no matter how mad or jealous he gets...which you already know well, but it’s always nice to have the confirmation.

Taemin comes before you do this time, filling your womb with the warmth of his release, and as lascivious as it is, it also makes you feel strangely comforted. You know he belongs to you, and you him. He gives you a tender kiss as if in apology—for coming first or for being mad, you aren’t sure—and his hand drops between your bodies to rub against your clit. Soon, you are coming too, wetting his softening length and moaning at how your body sucks him and his cum in deeper.

You are amused by his sudden change in mood after he’s satisfied and the agitation has completely left his body. He’s suddenly shy about having the curtain open and pulls it back hastily, reaching his hand backwards clumsily because he doesn’t want to pull out of you just yet.

“Was that spur of the moment?” You giggle, looking at his pinkened face. You hold his cheeks like he did to you earlier, feeling the round lines of them shift in your palms as he grins.

“I’m sorry for acting like that earlier.” Taemin shifts his face in your hands so he can kiss your thumb.

“Oh, really?” You give him a skeptical look, but he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I’m serious.” He pauses and then says, “I love you so much. I don’t like it when we get upset with each other…the only thing I want to argue about is what color we’ll paint our future nursery, or what baby names we like best. We shouldn’t argue over things that don’t matter in the end.”

“Ah, you’re so sentimental.” But you only say this to take the edge off, not wanting to shed tears right now. Still, you wrap your legs tighter around him, overwhelmed by his declaration and feeling like your heart could burst from the excitement and love you feel at the idea of doing those things with him. “Tae...if only you knew how lucky I feel.”

Taemin grabs you by the backs of your thighs and picks you up again, and you know you’re probably making a mess of the floor with his cum dripping out of you, but you can’t be bothered with it now. His smile is nearly blinding. “Hmm, well, let’s go to the shower and you can start from the beginning…”

251 notes · View notes

frenchpuppycormier · 3 years

Text

I'd Follow You Wherever

(ao3)

word count: 4k

rating: T

Once again a shoutout to @femmeluthor for being my number one fan and listening to me complain ;)

Lena stares unblinking at the object in her hands and thinks about where her actions have led her, and daydreaming about what her life has become. Never in a million years did she picture this is what she’d be doing in her thirties; preparing herself to travel across the galaxy to another dimension to rescue the woman she cares most about in the world. The universe.

“You sure this is going to work?”

“It has to,” Lena quivers. Alex nods in understanding. “I don’t know what else to do, Alex. Nothing feels right without her. I-I can’t sleep at all, I’m constantly thinking about her and how she is, I think my hair is falling out, I can’t walk by our favorite restaurant anymore without crying…I can barely eat, and when I do it just comes back up. All I feel is this constant, aching pain and it’s sucking me dry. I don’t know what to do,” she chokes out a sob and her hands start to tremble. “Alex, I have to do this!”

Sensing a panic attack of larger proportions on the horizon, Alex steps forward and pulls her into a gentle, yet firm hug. “Hey,” she squeezes her back with one hand while the other runs soothingly along Lena’s shoulder blade and arm. Resting her head against hers, Alex murmurs, “It’s okay. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do. I just wish we had another way.”

Lena leans back and looks at her incredulously with pinched brows, “What, you don’t think I can do this?”

Alex huffs and lets out a soft chuckle. “Lena, no. That’s not what I’m saying.” Noticing Lena isn’t standing down from her natural defensiveness, she rolls her eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“Please, enlighten me,” she gestures as if telling her to continue.

“Lena,” Alex shakes her head and rests her palms on Lena’s shoulders. “I already lost Kara; I can’t lose you too. I mean, I know you and I never really got a chance to make things right, but I’d like to think we’re friends, don’t you?”

A stray tear drops from Lena’s eye and she wipes it with her thumb before sniffling. She cracks a smile and deflects, “Since when did you become so sentimental?”

Alex releases her hold and laughs, “Well, having Kara as a sister does that to me. Lately it’s occurred to me that life’s too short to be a hard ass all the time, as cheesy as it sounds. And you know, Kelly is a therapist.” That gets a chuckle out of Lena. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized you’re the closest thing I have to Kara right now, and to be honest…I think you’re pretty special, Lena.”

The former CEO’s eyes widen with the admission. “Thank you,” her voice cracks. She clears her throat, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Alex jokingly salutes her but quickly grows serious again. She huffs loudly and her eyes dart around the room before settling on Lena’s face. The woman looks back with a worried gaze.

“What?” Lena asks. “Alex, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just,” she shakes her head and gathers her wits. She stands straighter and crosses her arms in front of her chest, and with her head held high she says, “I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Alex, no,” she states firmly. “We agreed—”

The auburn-haired woman shakes her head. “We,” Alex gestures her finger between the two of them, “Didn’t agree on anything. You strutted in here with your proclivities and decided what was happening without allowing the rest of the group any say in it.”

“Alex…”

“I’m going with. It’s final,” Alex states and saunters over to the control panel in the center of the tower.

Lena scoffs and follows her, yelling at her turned back, “The hell you are! The deal was I go and you stay here in case anything happens to me. That way, you still have a fighting chance to save Kara and I, I will have tried my best, but I did what I could and you’ll get to move on.” Lena pauses for a second and emphasizes, “With Kara.”

Alex whips her head around and shoots daggers at her, causing Lena to startle and shrink back. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Lena’s nostrils flare in retaliation, but Alex keeps going. “I’m sick of you putting yourself on the line all the time. You’re just like Kara and it’s annoying as fuck!” She laughs tiredly as an epiphany enters through her brain. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Lena. You can’t be that dense,” Alex says, with mild exasperation. “Kara loves you, she’s in love with you, but she’s been too afraid to tell you because of the whole secret identity mishap. She already made a huge mistake which pissed you off, she didn’t want to risk losing you again, or your friendship, by speaking it into existence…And you!” she points accusingly at Lena. “You are too stubborn to admit your feelings out loud, so you bury them deep down inside because you think Kara will deny you or laugh at you, but if you actually think that then you really don’t know my sister at all.”

Lena’s mouth is hanging open by the time she’s done. She quickly closes it and swallows thickly before replying. “She loves me?”

Alex deflates and smiles softly. “Honey, she almost risked the entire timeline to tell you her secret earlier than when she actually did. I’d say she loves you.”

“Wait, what—”

“We’ll get to that part later, but for right now we’re running out of time,” Alex grabs the device from Lena. “So, ready to go rescue my sister?”

Lena eyes her suspiciously, “We’re not done with this conversation.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a girl scout,” Lena snatches back the device. “I’ll take that. Took me all night to make this. I’m not risking it in your hands.”

Alex smirks, “’Kay, so remind me how this works again? Just so everything’s clear?”

“Well…basically we open up a portal to the Phantom Zone, then once we step through, this,” Lena holds up the device, “Will allow us to track Kara and her location. I took the nanobots to map the brains of the progeny we have in containment. Then, I used q-waves to replicate Malefic’s powers, and M’gann’s sensing abilities, and with the help of Kara’s DNA I was able to calibrate the device to the right frequency, which is how we’ll find her. All of this to make one simple tracking device. Again. Y’know, since you stole the first one I made.”

Alex winces under Lena’s intense glare. “I said I was sorry.”

“No worries, all is forgiven,” the former CEO smirks.

Alex releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay, so then how will we know exactly where Kara is?”

“The device will chirp when we’re in her radius.”

“Is there any way we can narrow it down? Like to her exact coordinates or something? The Phantom Zone is a large place.”

“I wish I could say there was another way, but I’m afraid this is all we have,” Lena deflates. “You’re not about to back out already, are you?”

Alex purses her lips. “No way, Luthor. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Lena lifts her arm and presses the button to the portal watch. She glances at Alex and smiles, “Let’s go get our girl.”

Lena doesn’t know how long it takes them. Her watch tells her it’s been a week, but time in the Phantom Zone is different, so for all she knows it’s been a month since they’ve been roaming around searching for Kara.

Her feet are dragging with every step and she can tell Alex is just as exhausted and sluggish as she is. She knows they need to take a break and rest. She knows this. But she also knows the longer they wait, the longer they are away from Kara. The longer Kara has been here suffering by herself, and Lena can’t have that. No, she needs to get to Kara as fast as possible. Before it’s too late.

They pass a large boulder and after a minute of no random ramblings from Alex’s mouth, or fun facts to distract them, Lena frowns and stops. She turns around and sees no sign of the other woman. She squints and just barely notices a figure toppled over on their side, not moving. “Alex!”

Lena runs as fast as her legs can move her. She stumbles next to Alex and lands on her knees, the pain excruciating. Her synapses are firing throughout her body, but that’s the least of her worries right now. She shakes the older woman’s shoulders and cries out her name once more.

No response.

“Goddammit, Alex. Don’t do this to me. We’re so close!” Lena whips her backpack off and fumbles around the contents for her water bottle. Leave it to Lena to come extra prepared. She twists the cap off and pours a conservative amount on Alex’s face. It does the trick.

“Jesus, Lena!” she sputters and breathes heavily, wiping the liquid from her eyes.

“You fucking scared me half to death! What was I supposed to do?” Lena shrieks. If only her brother could see her now. He’d get a kick out of the way she’s freakishly reminiscent to a final girl and their antics.

Alex sits up with help from Lena. She swipes the bottle from her and takes a long swig, water dribbling down her bottom lip. “Thanks.”

Lena nods. “No problem.” She glances around them and shivers. “Now, I don’t know about you, but this place is giving me major Alien the movie vibes and we’re out in the open. So, how’s about we get a move on, hmm?”

“You don’t need to say ‘the movie’. You can just say Alien.”

“Alex…”

“Alright, alright,” Alex teases.

Rolling her eyes, Lena helps Alex to her feet with ease, and they continue the trek. It lasts about ten miles, until Alex needs another break. This time a chosen break. They settle along a bank of tall, pointy rocks. Lena reaches into her bag and downs a healthy amount of water.

“Hey! You gonna leave any for me?” Alex complains.

“Well maybe you should’ve brought your own!” Lena argues, but hands over the bottle anyway.

Alex thanks her and lowers herself to the ground. She grabs her ankle and winces. “Did you happen to bring a first aid kit in that bag of yours?”

Lena raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and huffs, “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” She crouches next to Alex, takes off her bag, and rifles through it. While she’s distracted, she barely notices her surroundings and doesn’t have time to react to the feeling of a slight pinch on her arm.

She slowly turns her head and looks over to see Alex retract her hand, which holds a syringe. A wave of nausea hits Lena hard and her vision blurs. The last thing she sees is a snarling Alex before she succumbs to darkness.

When she wakes up it’s to pitch black surroundings, save for a small fire burning by her feet. Sosmall, in fact, it shouldn’t even be considered a fire. It’s merely smoldering embers, wisps of smoke on the verge of dying. Lena goes to move her arms but they’re being constrained be something. She mentally catalogues the environment around her, and realizes her wrists are tied together behind her back with rope, and her arms are wrapped around a tree. The only tree for miles.

Why would Alex do this? she thinks. I thought we were friends. Or was she just playing me the whole time to get close to me? And when she finally gained my trust, she twisted the proverbial knife into my gut. But for what? There’s nothing her for her to gain.

Lena groans and struggles against her confines.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice startles her from her reverie. “Good.”

“Alex,” Lena croaks, her throat parched. “Why are you doing this?”

Alex laughs like a hyena catching its prey. “Can’t you see? You’re just a dumb, pathetic weakling who never learns. You trust too easily, even though you know everyone will eventually betray you. You’re worthless,” Alex spits. “Twisted and evil; you’re a Luthor, just like your brother. Who would ever love you?”

Lena trembles, tears prickling her eyes. “No…”

“Everything you touch turns to ash. Kara’s probably dead because of you. The world hates aliens, because of you. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” Alex’s face slowly morphs into Lex’s sneering face, and suddenly everything feels wrong. “We could’ve had it all, Lena. We could’ve built something together, but you had to go and play hero, didn’t you?”

“No!” Lena chokes.

Lex steps closer so he’s towering of her, the light from the fire burning shadows across his sunken face. “You never learn, Lena. You don’t deserve the Luthor name. Supergirl is mine and you can’t stop me.” He puts his hands in his pant pockets like he just landed a deal, the confidence radiating off him as he walks away.

“W-Where are you going?” Lena yells. “What are you going to do?”

He turns around to look at her one last time and says, “To do what you couldn’t; I’m going to kill Supergirl.” He struts off into the distance with the only sound being Lena’s screams echoing throughout the wide berth of the canyon.

Lena screams until her throat grows hoarse and all that comes out is thick, dry sobs. She shakes and trembles and pulls at her wrists to break free, but it’s no use. Exhaustion settles in her bones and takes over until her eyelids grow heavy, and the darkness encompasses her once again.

The next time she wakes it’s to blinding light. She squints and tries to rub her face, but remembers they’re tied behind her back. Her heart starts thumping rapidly in her chest as the panic swallows her whole. She’s all alone. Left for dead. With no way to escape. She supposes she deserves this. Alex said so herself, who would ever love her?

As the day goes on her limbs grow heavy and her body gets weaker and weaker. She sighs and lets the elements do their work and take over. The last thought running through her mind before she goes is that she never got to tell Kara how she felt. Closing her eyes, Lena hears a voice in the back of her mind repeating her name. It’s getting louder and louder, but she doesn’t care. All she wants to do is sleep.

She hears the same voice yell her name again, sounding so close, yet far away. The voice is muffled as if she’s underwater.

“LENA!”

With no warning, she feels a jolt of pain in her ribs, and like her body is shocked with adrenaline, her eyes blast wide open and she wheezes. The first thing she notices is Alex hovering over her with worried eyes.

Alex sags in relief, “Oh, thank God.”

“Get away from me!” Lena shudders and backs away on her hands, palms scraping against the rough terrain.

“Woah! Hey, what’s going on?” Alex pleads holding her hands out in a placating gesture.

“You left me for dead,” Lena whimpers, tears threatening to fall. “You just left me there, all alone.”

Alex frowns, “What? No, Lena. Hey, look at me,” Alex tentatively reaches her hand toward the brunette like one would when dealing with a spooked animal. She grabs her chin as those glassy eyes morph into something akin to tentativeness. “You’re okay. None of that was real. It was all in your head.”

After quiet contemplation and realizing what she’s saying holds true, Lena sighs deeply and nods. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were just resting and I heard you whimpering in your sleep. I thought something was seriously wrong.”

Lena stares blankly at her. “But I don’t remember falling asleep….”

Alex’s eyebrows pinch together. “What do you—”

That’s when Lena notices the phantom looming in the dark. Its eyes are glowing red and its hands are buzzing with an energy as if taking control of someone’s mind.

“It’s him. He was playing tricks on us!” Lena whisper shouts and shuffles to her feet in one swift motion. She grabs Alex’s hand and pulls her away before the phantom wakes up. “We need to go. Right now!”

They make it to the edge of a ravine and Lena stops short, her mind spiraling with confusion. It must show on her face, because Alex notices something’s off almost immediately.

“What is it?” Alex asks.

“I’ve been here before,” Lena mutters, mostly to herself. If it weren’t for their close proximity, Alex probably wouldn’t have heard her.

“What? That’s impossible…”

Lena shakes her head. “No, not literally. I was here in my dream,” she rolls her eyes at herself. “Or rather, what the phantom put inside my head. This has to mean something!” At that exact moment, the tracking device in Lena’s hands lights up and shrills harshly. “She’s close! Kara’s close!” she grins widely, excitement swelling her cheeks.

As Lena walks away, the device growing louder with each step, Alex grabs her by the elbow and pulls her back effectively stopping her in her tracks. “What if it’s a trap?”

“We’ve come this far. We can’t stop now,” Lena rips her arm away and trudges on, leaving Alex in the dust. Alex quickly catches up with her and wordlessly makes it known that she’s got her back.

The duo makes it to a point where the device is droning out a constant beep. “She’s here!” Lena exclaims. Here is a maze of jagged rocks and what can only be described as molten lava.

“Fuck! How are we supposed to find her in here?!” Alex rubs her temples.

“Shh,” Lena grabs her wrist. “Do you hear that?” Alex lowers her hands and listens for any noise in the vicinity. A quiet whimper emerges from somewhere to their left. Lena blames it on the lack of sun in the decrepit place, blames the lack of light for why they were unable to see a small figure leaning on the rocky wall, hidden in the shadows.

“Kara?” Lena gasps. She creeps forward careful not to startle her. “Kara,” she says, louder this time.

“Who’s there?” Kara asks, trembling slightly and shuffling away so she’s pressed up against the wall. Her normal demeanor is completely forgotten and it’s morphed into rigidity and stiffness.

Alex’s body betrays her and she collapses to the ground in a heap, her hands covering her mouth in shock. Tears trickle down her cheeks. Lena glances back over her shoulder and softens in understanding.

Lena crouches down closer to Kara and as soon as her eyes adjust to the dark, she chokes on her own breath. Kara’s once bright, sapphire eyes are now pale and grey. They’re slowly losing the light inside of her, and becoming something dark and lost. “Kara,” she whispers.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Kara’s eyes dart around like she’s frantically searching for something.

“Hey, it’s me,” she sits on her knees facing her, itching to reach out and touch her. “It’s Lena. Listen to my voice.”

Kara shakes her head furiously, tendrils of hair bouncing off her shoulder. “No. No, Lena can’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“Darling, it’s me. Okay?”

“No. No, no, no, no,” Kara cries, her body shaking with every utterance.

Lena doesn’t fight it anymore and she clasps onto Kara’s flailing hands. “It’s me, Kara. I’m here. Your Lena,” she lifts Kara’s hands and places them on her own face. “I had to find you myself, I couldn’t trust anyone else to do it without fail. I supposed that’s selfish of me, but when it comes to you I’d do anything.”

Kara begins tracing over Lena’s features with deft fingers, every worry line and wrinkle. She starts with the eyebrows she’s become quite accustomed to, then continues with the swell of her cheekbones and sharp jawline, moving over to the slope of her nose, and finally settling her thumbs on plump, parted lips. Her favorite pair of lips. Lena’s breath hitches from Kara’s tender searching.

Once she’s done, Kara rests her forehead on Lena’s and faintly sobs, hands gripping underneath her jaw and along her neck. “It really is you,” Kara closes the distance and slowly, but with steady determination, kisses her. Lena’s lips are soft and warm compared to the acrid burning that’s constantly surrounded her since she’s been in this place. She sighs, causing a breathy moan to emerge from Lena, and she pulls back to breathe in the woman before her. “I never thought I’d get the chance to do that.”

Lena laughs and Kara melts at the sound, forgetting such a simple thing could cause her so much joy. Kara opens her eyes and she almost chokes on her breath from the shiny, emerald eyes gazing back at her with nothing but love. “Lena,” she breathes.

“Kara?”

“I see you. Rao, you’re so beautiful,” she gushes.

Lena’s cheeks become a light dusting of pink with that admission, and she dips her head bashfully. “You’re not so bad yourself, Supergirl.”

Kara grins and gently tilts Lena’s head up. She leans her forehead on Lena’s again, playfully bumping their noses against each other, while softly rubbing her thumbs over Lena’s cheeks, just below her eyes. “I really want to kiss you again,” she whispers.

“I look forward to doing a whole lot more of that, but let’s get you home first, yeah? I’m still concerned about getting you somewhere safe.” Kara nods mutely and smiles morosely. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

Lena stands and reaches for her hands. She’s not expecting Kara to be that light, so when she pulls her up Kara stumbles forward and nearly topples over her. Lena catches her fall and before she can say anything, the Kryptonian is encircling her arms around Lena and murmuring into her neck, “I missed you so much.” Lena tightens her hold and squeezes her back. “Me too.”

Kara pulls back and tilts her head to the side. “Are you here alone?”

Lena shakes her head, “No, Alex is here too. She’s right there,” she nods to her right and frowns at Kara. “Could you not hear her?”

“I was a little distracted…” she shrugs smugly.

Lena responds by unconsciously licking her lips. She catches herself and pushes the thoughts of strong arms and legs out of her head, and rolls her eyes. The raven-haired woman pulls Kara over to Alex and whispers, “Alex?”

The older woman wipes her eyes and stands up. When she takes in the sight of her sister, she completely breaks. “Kara!” Alex engulfs her in a hug, causing an oof to emerge from the hero. Kara responds by wrapping an arm around her sister’s neck, with one of Lena’s hands still connected with her free hand.

“Alex,” Kara weeps. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are you kidding me?” Alex pulls back. “I couldn’t let this one over here take the reins,” she jabs a thumb toward Lena, who scoffs.

“Who was it that saved your ass? And got us here in the first place?” Lena claps back.

“Semantics,” Alex waves a hand nonchalantly.

Kara grins at the interaction between her sister and her best friend. She sure missed a lot while she was incapacitated in the Phantom Zone, but if this is one of the outcomes, she thinks maybe it was worth it. She’s only ever wanted for Lena to become a part of her family, and she’s giddy at the sight of seeing her get along so well with Alex. Even if things are bound to change, at least she has her two favorite women with her. It doesn’t matter what happens next if it means they’re by her side.

“Ready to go home, goofball?” the girl of steel questions.

Alex sticks out her tongue but smiles anyway. “Yes, please.”

Kara grabs a hold of Alex’s hand while her other wrapped around Lena’s waist. She squeezes her hip and kisses her temple. “Ready when you are.” Lena leans into her touch and lifts her wrist one last time. As she glances at the two sisters beside her, she smiles and thinks about how lucky she is. She presses the button and together they walk through the portal.

Back to National City.

Back to their family.

Back home.

#supercorp #supercorp fic rec #supercorp fic #my work #kara danvers #lena luthor #sg spoilers

47 notes · View notes

hanoella · 3 years

Text

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 6)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 6 Word Count: Just over 6k

A/N: It's been such a joy to write this series. Once again, thank you for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Taglist!: @vicmc624 @officiallykuute @undiadeestos @tailsoflightning

Read Part 1; Masterlist

“Please join me in welcoming Irina Novikov, the Reigning Queen of Russian Classics!”

Bucky watched from the special box seat as you walked out from the left curtain, the silver embroidery on your sea-reminiscent blue-green dress and matching hairpin glinting in the bright spotlights. You shook hands with the conductor and faced the crowd, greeting them with a deep bow at the waist. You sat at the piano which had been moved from the back left to the front, right by the conductor. The crowd clapped all the way until you sat down on the bench. Bucky watched you smooth out the tea length dress on your lap, your black velvet flat peeking out to settle on the golden pedal.

Bucky tried to pay attention to conductor as he explained the piece, but he was just so confused about the name. He looked down at the program he had gotten at the front. Irina Novikov was featured and italicized, indicating that person as their featured guest for this concert season. There was applause once more as the conductor gestured to you to open with your opening solo piece. Seeing your shoulder rise with your preparing breath, he watched as you raised your arms to begin playing.

The opening notes grew in intensity before settling into a haunting melody. It gradually filled the extravagant room. It was amazing how one instrument could fill an entire room. Or rather, one person. One beautiful, talented person.

You captured the attention of every person in the theater. Framed on either side of the stage with deep red curtains, you were in the spotlight. The way you moved as you played conveyed the emotions of the music. You could have been a dancer, arms moving gracefully up and down the entire length of the black grand piano.

Enchanted, Bucky was focused on you, and only you. The blue tulle cape on your right sleeve of your dress fluttering as you moved, hiding the shoulder. There was one stray piece of hair that moved with you, having fallen out of the low bun you had pinned with a silver chrysanthemum comb. The silver thread twinkled. It was as if you were the night sky itself, clear and brilliant.

---

Earlier in the month…

Bucky had just gotten back from his trip with Sam. Parking his sports bike, he walked into the garage to the door of his apartment, where something was sticking out. A white envelope, addressed simply to his first name. Walking up the steps and chucking the keys on the table, he opened the letter to find a note stuck to a lanyard with a ticket in the holder.

Here’s a season pass I got from the orchestra. If you’ve got nothing better to do, come see me play! :)

He looked down at the bottom where your name was scrawled, half-cursive and half-print. Flipping the ticket around, he saw the dates of all the concerts, the opening of the season being next weekend. Russian Classics-Part One was listed as opening weekend’s theme. Well, that was your specialty, right? He had to come.

Peeking out the window facing your house, he saw that your car was missing from the driveway. Probably at rehearsal. Wait, what do you wear to something like that? Did he even own a suit?

After taking one look into the closet, the answer to that was no. He was going to have to get one. Which is how he ended up at the tailor’s with Sam.

Sam had replied to Bucky’s text on where to get a suit. How have you gone this long without having a suit? Every man needs a good suit. What’s the occasion?

Bucky had texted him back. Never needed one until now. It’s for the concert next weekend.

Oh snap, that is an occasion. Meet me here-

So now, he was sitting in the plush velvet armchair by the entrance, waiting for Sam to show up. He was on his phone, scrolling through the news, trying to avoid the gaze of the sales clerk who was giving him quite the look from under her eyelashes. Thankfully, Sam came to the rescue.

“So, what’s the vibe we’re going for? Sleek? Rich? Mob boss?” Sam asked, rubbing his hands together.

“What? I just need a suit, man.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbled under his breath, before getting hyped up again. “Let’s get you a suit!”

An older Black man dressed in brown slacks and a white button up came up to them and greeted Sam with enthusiasm.

“Sam! Good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you Mr. Frank!” Sam said, hugging him. “You remember my friend Bucky from the cookout, right?”

“Of course, I do. Good to see you Mr. Barnes” Mr. Frank said with a smile that brought out little wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, giving him a handshake.

“Bucky, please.”

“Well Bucky, what can I do for you?”

Sam answered for him. “Bucky here is going to need some suits so that they don’t kick him out when he shows up at the orchestra.”

“The one that your friend is at?”

“Yeah, actually. How do you know that?” Sam asked.

Before Mr. Frank could answer, a familiar voice floated faintly into the room.

“Wow, Selena, it’s absolutely stunning! I honestly couldn’t have asked for better. It’s beautiful.”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other before walking under the arch into the other room, Mr. Frank following. There on the short pedestal, you were standing in the middle of the room, holding the slightly big shimmering blue-green dress to your chest to prevent it from falling while the seamstress pinned the various alterations. Your hair was up in a messy bun, giving the seamstress room to work. The soft light of the chandelier giving you an ethereal glow.

Sam gave a low whistle. “Wow, you are one pretty lady.”

You looked in the mirror to make eye contact with Sam.

“Sam!” You said excitedly, turning your head and causing the seamstress to chastise you while chuckling. Your eyes then flitted to Bucky, suddenly leaving you feeling very exposed. You hadn’t seen him from the angle in the mirror. A blush creeping over your nose, you spoke

“Bucky!” You said with more surprise than enthusiasm. You were very happy to see him. He had just caught you off guard. His eyes lingered on the exposed piece of your back, framed with soft sea foam tulle, before meeting your eyes.

“Hey.” He said simply, before clearing his throat, red creeping up his neck. You stared at each other for a moment before the seamstress hung the measuring tape on her neck and gave the all clear.

“You can move now, but don’t mess up my pins.” Selena said, turning to point at Sam for the last part of the sentence.

“I would never.” Sam said fondly, putting a hand to his chest before wrapping the seamstress in a hug.

“This is my wife, Selena. We’ve owned this shop for the last twenty years.” Mr. Frank explained proudly, introducing Bucky to Selena. “Selena, this is Bucky Barnes, Sam’s right hand man.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” She said with a smile, shaking Bucky’s hand.

You hopped off the pedestal to give Sam a hug.

“I am so excited to get back to performing, Sam. You have no idea. Are you coming next weekend for the opening performance?”

“I’m gonna try my hardest! I have a meeting with Senate that morning, but I’m gonna use the supersuit, try and fly back in time. If I don’t make it Saturday, I will for sure see you on Sunday.”

“Awh, it’s no problem Sammy. I appreciate it. I’ll just be happy if you show up at all this season.” You said, taking a step back and turning towards Bucky.

“Well, Bucky’s going to be there, for sure. That’s actually why we’re here. To get him a suit.” Sam said, tossing Bucky a wink on the side.

“Really?” You said as you looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah. You look beautiful… by the way.”

You averted your gaze shyly. “Thank you.” You said meekly, swishing the dress slightly. “I’m glad you’re coming. I was wondering if you had gotten the season pass.”

“I did, thank you.”

Sam, Frank, and Selena all exchanged knowing looks, Sam rolling his eyes while smirking.

“Well, you guys got an exclusive sneak peak at my opening night dress. It was nice to see you guys!” You said as you gathered your dress up, Selena grabbing the back. You waved as you disappeared around the corner into the dressing room.

A few moments went by in silence before Mr. Frank spoke up.

“Well son, I see why you got it bad.” He patted Bucky on the shoulder, turning around and walking towards the main room.

“Well, I-” Bucky started, turning to see that he was alone with Sam, who was leaning over on his knees, holding in the laughter.

An hour later and Bucky had settled on a slim cut dark blue suit and a similar one in light grey. With a handful of ties and a pair of dress shoes, they were at the front to check out.

“So, the suit alterations will be done by this weekend so you can pick it up anytime this Saturday or after.” Before Bucky could pay, Sam held out a hand, shoving his card in the payment kiosk.

“This one’s on me. Just promise me you’ll make it this weekend. I might not be able to. But someone she cares about should make it to her first night back in action.”

Bucky paused before putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezing. “Thanks man.”

“Anytime, Buck.”

“Actually boys, the bill’s taken care of.” Selena said as she strolled up to the desk. “Your friend footed the bill. So, you’re paid in full.”

---

A week passed by and he hardly saw you to thank you for the suits. You would wave hello and goodbye in passing as you got into your car. Sometimes, you were dressed for physical therapy, donning clothes like army green leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Sometimes, you were dressed in business casual for rehearsals, wearing slim cut khaki slacks and a light blue blouse with the sleeves rolled up into cuffs just above your elbow.

Bucky really didn’t have anything to do since you weren’t around much. Occasionally, he raked the fallen leaves in your yard. He’d finally fixed that mower, though there was no use for it now. So, he spent his days catching up on reading, watching The Hobbit movies and waiting up for you to come home. He couldn’t really sleep if you hadn’t made it home safe yet. Something that had taken him a while to realize. It made him linger by the window facing your house, pretending to watch something on TV until he saw your car come down the driveway.

Today though, he had one thing on his to-do list. Walking into the tailor’s shop to pick up his suits, he saw that the sales clerk from last week with the eyes was working today. He cursed in his head as he walked up to the desk, where she was leaning over trying to show off some cleavage.

“How can I help you?”

“Picking up some suits. My ticket number is-”

“No need, I remember you from last week. Hard to forget a face like that.” She said with a wink as she walked to the back. Bucky purposefully looked the opposite way, clearing his throat in the process.

“Here you go Mr. Barnes, I appreciate your patronage.” She said with a sly smile.

“Thanks.” He responded dryly.

As he grabbed the hanger of the garment bag, she startled him by refusing to let go. Bucky pulled the hanger lightly out of her grasp and left. Sure, she was conventionally attractive. But she doesn’t hold a candle to you.

---

On the evening of the concert, Bucky turned to look in the mirror, making an impressed face. He didn’t look half bad. The dark blue suit had a little bit of texture, and while the white button-up made him feel a little claustrophobic, the wine colored tie really brought it all together. Running his fingers through his hair to straighten it up, he didn’t look bad at all. It made him happy that like this, he looked like a normal guy who cleaned up nice. Well, almost. He had gotten a finer, more delicate set of black leather gloves. Ones that weren’t so clunky, to match the nicer clothes he had gotten.

He looked at the clock. Still had time to buy flowers. He’s got to do something nice for your opening night. Taking a backpack, he started his bike and drove to first florist in the city to find a gift. He took a lap, everything he was looking at blending together. Red roses were too formally romantic… Daisies were too casual…

Rounding the corner of the counter, he saw a small arrangement peak out from behind a large one. It was a smaller jar filled with a few blush pink peonies, with a few stems of lily-of-the-valley, lilac and eucalyptus pouring out of the sides. Wrapped around the neck of the jar was a crème colored satin ribbon, pinned with a small square cut emerald brooch.

“Ah, that’s the perfect gifting pair, one gift to enjoy now and one to last!” The florist said, popping out from the back. Bucky thought back to your room, with the soft sage greens and soft crèmes. It was perfect. Bucky nodded while holding up his backpack.

“Uh. Is there anyway I could get it to last a trip in this backpack on a motorcycle?”

---

The florist first emptied most of the water, wrapped it in plastic, and then put it in a firm cardboard box. Carefully setting it in his backpack, Bucky thanked the florist, tipping him extra. He waved on the way out of the store, feeling good about the flowers he had picked out. The ten minute ride from the florist to the concert hall was taken very carefully.

Parking his bike and joining the long lines of well dressed people, he felt a little self conscious wearing a backpack and holding his lanyard. He tried not to draw any attention to himself as he made his way slowly up to the box office.

“Welcome to the Louisiana Philharmonic! May I see your ticket?” A perky young woman in usher’s attire asked through glass.

“Sure.” He said, sliding the lanyard through the window.

“Hey, you can’t bring backpacks in the concert hall.” The security guard said, pointing at the bag Bucky was holding.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I just-”

“Either return it to your vehicle or throw it away.” The man sternly said before the usher whispered through clench teeth and gestured for the security guard to come over. Bucky couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but he caught every other word or so.

Ticket… Ms. Novikov’s personal box… have to let…

The security guard squinted his eyes at Bucky before gesturing at the bag.

“What’s inside?”

“Just my wallet, keys, and some flowers.” Bucky said, unzipping the bag to show him. The security guard had him open the box and show him the flowers for good measure before grumbling something, handing the lanyard back, and letting him pass.

Yikes… Bucky thought, putting as much distance between him and security as he could. Getting up to the usher, he showed him the ticket as he was handed a program. The usher took a moment to look at the ticket before directing him to the left, away from where everyone was walking.

“Box one will be on the second floor, last entrance on the right.”

Huh.

Bucky walked up the stairs, passing a fancy bar and going down the empty hallway. Coming upon an entryway labeled Box One, he pushed aside the heavy red curtain to find that he was directly overlooking the stage. He was the closest balcony seat to the stage, the private viewing area containing five seats, two in the front and three on the step behind, staggering the tiers so that everyone could see properly. Sitting in one of the front seats, the one closest to the stage, he admired the scene.

The seats were plush and comfortable, the architecture of the theatre traditional yet stunning. The stage was framed by a huge rectangular arch that was rounded at the edges. The gold on the trim and handrails accentuated the softly glowing lights that hung in two rows over the aisles. Each bulb was captured in a long tube of rectangular glass, creating the image of a row of glowing piano keys floating in the aisles.

Speaking of pianos, the shiny black grand piano in the front caught his attention. The keys were facing him. If this is where you were playing, he would be looking at your back and have a clear view of your hands. Most of the musicians were already on stage, except for you, warming up for the night. Suddenly the orchestra stopped, commanding everyone’s curiosity. The sound of dress shoes against the stage prompted applause as the conductor, an older man, walked out onto stage. After pausing to let the applause die down, he gestured for someone to come out. There was more applause as the first chair violinist, the concert master, walked out onto stage. The woman bowed before playing a note, prompting the rest of the orchestra to tune to her pitch. She did this several times before giving a nod to the conductor and sitting down in the first chair of the row of violins.

Clearing his throat, the conductor grabbed the mic and turned towards the crowd, slight German accent coming through.

“Good evening. It is my pleasure to welcome you to the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra.” The crowd gave more applause before he continued.

“My name is Arthur Albrecht, your guest conductor for this season. This weekend we have a lovely selection of classics that stem from Russian composers.” He went on to explain some of the history behind Russian composers and how their music was influenced by their culture. Bucky looked at the piano that was still empty, wondering where you were. A sudden loudening of the conductors voice snapped his attention back.

“We have with us this season, the most lovely pianist, nicknamed for her excellent performance of these very pieces. Please join me in welcoming Irina Novikov, the Reigning Queen of Russian Classics!”

---

Sam had showed up right before the end of the first piece, dressed in concert attire. Playing the last chord, you held it down as it reverberated all around the auditorium, waiting for the slow fade before finally releasing the keys. A moment of silence emphasized the heavy digestion of a piece such as that. Then, the applause and whistles came. People stood up in waves as you got up from the bench and bowed once more.

Sam and Bucky stood up as they clapped, just in time as you looked towards the box. Eyes flitting over Sam, you made eye contact with Bucky before bursting into a big smile, the breathlessness from the adrenaline making the rise and fall of your chest evident. Turning back to the crowd, you graciously accepted their applause. Sam glanced to his side at Bucky. But there was no acknowledgement. Bucky stood smiling and clapping, completely enamored, completely smitten by you.

---

After a few longer pieces that included the entire orchestra, the lights came on to signal the intermission. Bucky and Sam got up leisurely, greeting each other and stretching their legs.

“Glad you were able to get here.”

“I did! That suit is amazing, man. Stupid fast.”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky said, bemused.

They chatted for a few minutes before the curtain moved, letting light in from the hallway.

“You guys made it!” You said as you hopped down the two steps before hugging Bucky, who was closest to the aisle.

“Woah, you’re gonna push me off of the balcony!” He joked, steadying himself before hugging you back tightly around his waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. You let him go, moving onto hug Sam. He squeezed you back saying, “You were amazing! And these fancy seats you scored us really let us in on the action.”

“Yes, it was incredible, seeing you play up there on that stage.”

Practically radiating happiness, you tucked the one loose strand of hair behind your ear as you let go of Sam and faced the both of them.

“Thank you guys so much for coming. I was so nervous to get back in the spotlight. Especially as a featured artist, you know?”

“Oh yeah, speaking of-” Sam said as he reached into his suit pocket for the program. “Who’s Irina Novikov?”

“Oh, shoot. I’ve been so busy with rehearsal; I didn’t even get a chance to tell you. One of the things that we worked out in my contract is that I work under a stage name, and they get all the talent of a known artist. That way, I can… avoid anyone who’s looking for me.” There was a slight pause, Bucky chiming in to lighten the mood.

“Okay, but ‘Reigning Queen of Russian Classics?’”

“Hey now, I got that nickname ever since I won that International Rachmaninoff Piano competition while I was in college. When I got back, my friends threw me a huge party with a banner that said that, and now it’s followed me throughout my career. It started as a joke, but now I kind of like it.” You said, laughing.

“Well, you basically are!” Sam exclaimed, gesturing out to the stage. “You’re gonna tell me that you don’t look like royalty up there? Especially with this dress.”

As you smiled and accepted Sam’s compliments, Bucky’s eyes finally got a chance to take in the full dress. Selena had done a fantastic job. The silver accents sparkled lightly, the fabric orchid blossoms making their way up one sleeve. She had made it to look like the bodice was made of two large delicate petals of a sea green blossom. If Thor was the god of thunder, you were the goddess of greenery.

“Ms. Novikov,” an attendant called as they peaked their head through the curtain.

“One moment!” You called back. “Sorry, excuse me for one second.”

You looked like you were practically floating as you pulled up the dress slightly to go up the couple steps, the waves of fabric moving like a mist off of the sea. The attendant said something in a hushed tone and you sighed. The attendant left and you made your way back over to them.

“I have to go, but thank you both so much for coming. I mean it.” You said, each of your hands reaching out and squeezing one of their arms.

“Wait, I got this for you.” Bucky said, reaching for his backpack. He carefully took out the cardboard box and removed it off of the vase of flowers. He watched as your face lit up.

“Oh, these are beautiful Bucky. Thank you so much. I’m going to take them to my dressing room.” You said as you accepted the flowers, gently rubbing one of the petals between your fingers.

“You have a dressing room?”

“Yeah! Its around the hall and down the stairs. If you want to see it after the show. I’ll tell the attendant at the bottom of the stairs to let you through. You too Sammy.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.” Sam responded.

“Okay, see you guys after!”

You walked away, arranging the flowers in the vase with a small smile on your face. Bucky watched you walk away before turning to Sam who, for once, had a serious expression on his face.

“What?”

“She’s a good one, Buck.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“Aren’t you the one she calls Sammy?”

“Oh, so you noticed that because you’re jealous.”

“No, of course not-”

“She’s a nice girl.” Sam said, cutting him off. “I think you two would be great together.”

Bucky bit his lip and looked to the side. “I don’t think so. I’ve still got… so much going on.”

“No offense to either of you, but so does she. She makes you happy. I can tell just by how you perk up around her. You deserve to be happy. And so does she. You know you have the same effect on her, right?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

“You’re a good person, Buck. She’s a good one, and so are you. So, give it a shot. Don’t be afraid to be happy.”

Bucky paused before swallowing and nodding.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, man. Anytime.” Sam said, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

---

The show ended with a standing ovation. The conductor took a bow, then signaled to you. You swung an arm out and gestured to the orchestra, giving them credit before you took a deep bow at the waist. When you came up, you clapped along with the crowd, facing the orchestra to applaud everyone’s fine work.

Bucky and Sam turned right out of the box, which was the opposite direction that the crowd was filing out in. After rounding the corner, they found a stairwell heading downwards, just as you had said. At the bottom, the attendant greeted them, leading all the way down to the end of the hall to the last room.

“Ms. Novikov? Your guests are here.” The attendant called, knocking on the door.

“Thank you! You can send them in.” You called from inside the room.

The attendant opened the door and gestured for them to enter. Walking in, they admired the aura of being backstage of a performance. The attendant shut the door behind them, leaving them with you as you sat at the vanity. You were adjusting your hair, just having taken it out of the bun that it was in. Soft curls fell out and framed your face, the lightbulbs around the vanity giving you a halo of sorts. The cement-bricked walls kept the room cool, housing the green velvet couches, mini fridge, coffee table and faux fur rug. There was a three-paneled, gold mirror right next to the bathroom. There was a clothes rack with several garment bags hanging from it.

“Wow, major movie star vibes in here.” Sam commented, touching the edge of the velvet couches.

“Thanks! This is the suite for guest artists. Every time they have a guest star, they make a little nameplate and hang it up outside. When my time is up, they’ll stick it outside of the room with the others.” You said, now getting up from the vanity. Your hairpiece was set down on the vanity, next to an open velvet box that held your earrings.

“I didn’t realize you were making big money like this! Dang, can’t Captain America get a raise?” Sam joked.

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically. “I will admit I get a nice salary, but the only things I spend money on are fancy dresses and jewelry to perform in. Gotta keep up the look, give people something to see.”

“And that you do.” Sam said as he chuckled. The sound of a phone vibrating paused the conversation.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta take this. This might take a minute. Be right back.”

That left you and Bucky. You looked at him for a moment before settling down on one of the couches, folding your legs underneath of you and resting your arm against the back cushion to support your head. Swallowing, Bucky tentatively sat down next to you. It remained silent before you both spoke up at once.

“I know I-”

“I’m so happy you-”

You laughed and he gestured for you to go ahead.

“I was just going to say, thank you. I’m so happy that you came to support me. It’s been a long road to get here and I just want to let you know how much I appreciate you. I wasn’t expecting for us to be friends at all, and here we are. I’m so thankful for it. You’re just… amazing.” You said, smiling softly at him. He felt the red creep up his neck and didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, you figured that and gave him an out.

“What were you going to say?” You now gestured to him. Taking a moment, he cleared his throat.

“I was going to say, I know I already said this earlier but the concert was amazing. You sounded great.”

“Thank you.” You said simply, still staring into his ice blue eyes.

“And you look great.”

“Yeah?” You said amusedly as you raise your eyebrows.

“Yeah. You look beautiful. One might even say stunning.” A little of the old Bucky, the smooth-talking one, made a surprise appearance.

“Oh? Who’s the one?” You scooched closer to him.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me.”

His eyes met yours in a deciding moment. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips momentarily. You wondered if he could notice how your breath quickened.

“Ms. Novikov?”

The attendant’s voice was muffled through the door. The knocking that preceded it had startled you out of your moment. Tentatively, the door was opened just a crack.

“They’re ready to toast the champagne.” They called in. You sighed and got up.

“I’ll be there momentarily, thank you.” You called back. Satisfied, the attendant walked away, the soft clicking of dress shoes slowly fading away. You turned towards Bucky, who had also stood up.

“They’re opening a bottle of champagne in celebration of opening night, if you’d like to join me.” Your fingers nervously picking at each other.

“Yeah, of course.” He accepted, somewhat awkwardly. You tried not to be disappointed about what might’ve happened if the attendant hadn’t interrupted. Turning towards the door, you were stopped by his hand gently grasping your upper arm. Eyes wide, you whipped your head around. Bucky opened his mouth, though no sound came out.

“Yes?” You said softly, features softening from shock to gentle anticipation.

“Did I hear the attendant say something about champagne?” Sam’s voice floated in through the crack of the door. Quickly, Bucky dropped your arm and you turned towards the door. Sam opened the door and eyed the both of you. His expression changed slightly as he looked back from you to Bucky, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No.” Bucky said quickly.

“Not at all!” You said, a little nervously. Clearing your throat, you smoothed out the front of your dress. “Let’s go, they’re handing out champagne on stage.” You flitted around Sam and into the hall. Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who gave him a look that told him not to ask. They followed you to the stage where the chairs had been cleared to the side to make room. The red curtains were drawn, separating the stage from the auditorium where people were still filtering out.

Upon seeing you, the conductor cleared his throat and called everyone’s attention. It fell quiet as he made your presence known. An attendant handed you a glass of champagne and you quietly requested two more for Sam and Bucky.

“This had been such a wonderful opening night. We’re so happy to have you with us this season, Ms. Novikov.” He started. A hum of agreement made it’s way around the other orchestra members. “It is a delight and an honor. Without your charity, we would not be standing on this stage tonight. Truly, you have helped us keep this program successful and alive in such turbulent times.” The orchestra broke out into thanks and cheers. Your face lit up, your smile breaking out into one bigger than it had in a long time.

“If I may, I’d like to say a few words, Arthur.” You said, gently squeezing his arm with your free hand. The conductor reciprocated warmly, setting his hand atop your before you let go. Looking behind you to make sure that the attendant had gotten Sam and Bucky some glasses, you started speaking.

“Many of you know that this is the first I’ve performed in quite some time now. The road to recovery was and still proves to be difficult. But I’m so happy to have found my way back to performing, and it is an honor that it be with the incredibly talented people in front of me. Each and every one of you has cause to be proud. This was an incredible performance. And it is with pleasure that I say the real recognition goes to you all. With all of your hard work, you were able to reopen the concert hall and provide people with a bit of respite in a time of rebuilding.”

You raised your glass. “So, with that, I say we toast. To growth, and a wonderful season.”

The others raised their glasses while repeating the words. After the celebratory sip, another round of cheers erupted. Several members came up to you with words of thanks and commendation. The jovial atmosphere under the golden hue of the stage lights made it feel surreal. Bucky looked at you, nodding your head and redirecting praise to whomever you were talking to. Your dress made you stand out in a sea of black suits and black dresses, like a gemstone amongst the coal. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful, inside and out. He was snapped out of his daze when he heard you excuse yourself politely and walking back over to them.

“Sorry about the long speech, guys. Thanks for staying.” You apologized, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Are you kidding? That was beautiful. I’m glad your back to it. You seem happy.” Sam said, always quicker than Bucky with the responses.

“I am.” You said with a big smile, gaze moving over to Bucky.

Normally, Sam would be rolling his eyes or something at Bucky, but a text stole his attention away. He looked at his phone and cursed under his breath, scrolling through something. Bucky took the moment to ask a question.

“What’d you do for them?”

You swallowed the sip you had taken and looked at him with a confused expression.

“What?”

“Sorry, for the orchestra. They mentioned charity.”

“Ah. Yes.” You looked over at Sam, who was busy texting a reply.

“I, uh… Some unexpected problems with the building were going to close the orchestra. They couldn’t afford to fix it. So, I donated half of my salary for the season to repair the theater.”

Bucky looked at you incredulously. You smiled sheepishly under his gaze.

“What?” You responded, as if he was the strange one for the reaction. You never got it though, Sam now done on his phone.

“I’m sorry, but something came up. I thought it could wait ‘til morning, but things are developing a lot quicker than I thought. We need to go.” Sam said, looking at Bucky.

Bucky opened his mouth and closed it, nodding in reluctant understanding.

“I’m proud of you. Great job tonight. Sorry we have to leave so suddenly.” Sam said, hugging you.

“Oh please, don’t apologize. Go save the world. I’ll see you when you get back. Thanks again for coming.” You said, rubbing a hand on his back before letting go. Sam looked at his phone again before looking at Bucky.

“Your go-bag is on the plane; I’ll meet you there.” He said, before walking away, giving you one more wave before typing on his phone. You and Bucky turned to each other, not saying anything. You spoke first, reluctance filling your voice.

“You should probably go. Sounds important.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah…” Bucky looked in the direction that Sam had walked away in before turning back to you, still unmoving. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what to say before settling on an apology.

“I’m sorry.” Something told you he was probably apologizing for more than just having to leave.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing gently. “Be safe. I’ll see you when you get back, right?”

He nodded and you reluctantly dropped your hand. He walked backstage, but not before looking back at you one last time. Someone had approached you, but you were still watching him. You gave a little wave and then he was gone. You took a big sip of your drink and nodded at whatever was being said to you.

Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #reader insert #SoundCloud

41 notes · View notes

oigimi · 3 years

Text

. inspiration .

. arthur x reader . 1.5k words . inspired by @/delicateikemenmemes’ arthur abcs prompts! pls go check it out!! . NSFW!! MINORS DNI .

“Coffee and monte cristo…” you mused, setting down a tray for Arthur, tracing his jawline and kissing his cheek. Your boyfriend had been at work for a while now, diligently writing his latest manuscript while you cooked and cleaned with Sebastian. It was difficult being away from Arthur while the both of you worked, especially when you knew that he was just a small walk away, in the very same house as you at any given time.

So that’s why he decided on a little game to lift the both of your spirits.

He took the food off the tray and smirked. “Thank you, my delightful little secretary. This almost looks as delicious as you.”

“Of course. Now get back to work.” Your face was growing warmer and warmer as you stared down at Arthur. He’d been growing a bit bored as of late and decided that a little roleplay was exactly what you’d needed to spice things up between the two of you. And what was quite as exciting as getting frisky during work hours? You, his gorgeous, sexy secretary coming in and ordering him around, teasing him and keeping him on his toes. It made his heart race, and it got him motivated in more ways than one.

But what really committed him to the fantasy you two had created was the clothes you wore. A tight little miniskirt and a white blouse, partially buttoned to leave little to his imagination. God, you were ravishing, and he wanted to let you know. But he had to focus on work, and that was part of the fun. Restraint, with only a few moments where he could express his passions throughout the day.

You turned around on your heel, sauntering away from Arthur and making sure he got a nice view of your ass. You got a rush from the fantasy too, relishing in the power you had over Arthur during work hours, and counting down in your head to the moment when he could tear your tight little clothes off and release all the pent-up passions he felt into you. A symbiotic relationship, it was, and you and Arthur loved it.

“You have to finish this draft by the end of the week, Arthur. And if you want to take the weekend off you have to have at least the plot of your next one mapped out.”

“Thank you, love.”

“And you can’t get distracted!”

“I won’t get distracted!” Arthur turned back to his desk and continued to work on the manuscript, stealing glances of you out of the corner of his eyes. You just looked so adorable, no matter what you were doing. Whether you were helping him with tasks or ordering him around, or even just telling him about how your day was going, he found you irresistible, and just couldn’t help but want a piece of you while he was working.

“Darling, come here for a moment, will you?”

You looked up and made your way over to Arthur. “What is it?”

“Does this make sense to you?” He pointed to a line of dialogue in his story and looked up at you. You read it and shrugged.

“Looks like a standard line to me. Why?”

“Well, I think I’m having a few problems deciding what comes after.”

“Are you?” You turned and looked at Arthur, who had a completely serious look on his face. He took his glasses off and reached up for you, gently rubbing your sides.

“I am. I need to take a break, my little dove. I apologize if this thwarts your schedule, but I simply don’t think I’ll be able to make any meaningful advancements in the story without some… stimulation. Care to assist me?”

His rubs and squeezes sent little jolts through your body, and you couldn’t help but elicit a little groan. “Arthur…” You sat down in his lap, looking up into his deep blue eyes. “You’d better be stimulated quickly, and then get back to the manuscript. You know what happens to good boys who get their work done?” You leaned forward, pushing your breasts against him, and kissed his neck. “They get treats.”

“And what about naughty boys?” Arthur whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. He pulled you even closer to him, feeling your soft breasts against him. He rubbed your back and trailed his hands down your figure, massaging you and giving your ass a few squeezes.

“Arthur-!” you whispered, trying to suppress how much pleasure you were actually getting from the few touches the author gave. He went in and pressed his lips to yours, hungrily pushing his tongue in your mouth and exploring the soft, wet territory that he’d grown to know so well. Arthur’s kisses were versatile. They could be soft, but they could also be rough and passionate. They could be short smacks or long, sexy makeout sessions. His lips treated yours so well, and before you knew it, your fingers were tangled in his hair to keep you clinging onto him. He was absolutely gaining power, switching from long, messy kisses to many quick kisses, one after the other. You moaned a little bit, arching your back and loosening up.

He stood up and carried you with him, supporting you with his hands firmly below your ass. “Careful there, love. Your little mind is spinning faster than you realize.” Arthur laid you down on his bed and slid his hands up your legs, sticking his fingers around your panties and up your sweet spot in just a few quick motions. He rubbed and massaged your clit, wetting you more and more with every moment.

“Arthur!” you gasped, feeling your legs go weak as he rubbed and pleasured you with those pale, long fingers. “Ar- mmf!” He leaned on top of you and kissed you again, smirking in satisfaction at the ease with which he made your mouth open for him. You two kissed, growing louder and louder, and craving one another more and more. Eventually, he pulled away, his breath getting heavier.

“The way you make me feel… it’s unlike anything anyone else can do. I need you, sweet dove. Please, let me have you…”

You nodded, not a single doubt in your mind. Arthur undid his pants and tossed them aside before giving your skirt and panties the same treatment. He grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him, leaning down and giving your lips one last sweet kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” With a single motion, Arthur slid into you and elicited from you a little whimper. You were tight, and you were wetter than he’d left you moments ago. He thrusted in and out of you as quickly as he possibly could, his large member leaving you gasping and reaching up for him. Your breasts bounced with every push and pull you felt, and Arthur reached out to feel one with one hand. He stuck his hand underneath your shirt and rubbed your nipple with his thumb, satisfied with the intensity with which your face flushed.

You groaned and gasped with every last breath you had. Your walls were stretching and wettening, every part of your body crying out in desire for Arthur. He met your gaze, absolutely enamored with every part of you. With your gorgeous, longing eyes and your flushed, perky breasts, and everything else you had to offer. He couldn’t help himself. He released inside of you and pulled out, leaving you trembling in pleasure and catching your breath.

“Did you like it?” Arthur asked, laying down beside you and pulling you in for a hug.

“Of course I did! You know you always treat me well.”

“That’s good. I try my best to, anyway.” He smiled and smoothed out your hair. “You’re just so beautiful I can’t help myself when I see you sometimes.”

“That means a lot coming from the most handsome man in the world.”

“You know it!” Arthur kissed your lips and laughed, rubbing your noses together. “Oh dear. My little dove, you said earlier that good boys get treats. You never answered… What do naughty boys get? I do believe I’ve just proven myself to be quite naughty indeed, wouldn’t you agree?”

You smiled and sat up, cradling Arthur’s head in your arms. “What do naughty boys get? Hmm. I’d say with how today’s going that naughty boys…” You kissed his temples, forehead, and the corners of his eyes. “I’d say they get naughty girls.”

“How lovely! Now I’d say it was worth it skipping out on a few moments of work today.”

“Well no more!” you laughed, hugging Arthur tighter. “Back to work, mystery author!”

“Oh, come on! Lay with me a little longer? Grant me just a few more moments of inspiration, lovely secretary of mine?” He looked up at you with eyes reminiscent of his beloved dog, and grinned when you were unable to stifle your laugh.

“Alright. Just a little while longer.”

Arthur smiled wide, thanking you with hugs and kisses. The two of you lied in bed together, staring into one another’s eyes, rubbing each other’s noses, and thanking one another for your time and love, promising to always inspire one another as long as the both of you were together.

#minors dni #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikemen vampire arthur x reader #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikemen arthur

48 notes · View notes

abruisedmuse · 4 years

Text

Fire Like Sin

Written for @fateandluminary

Prompt Request: Jurdan- “Horns”- Bryce Fox

I basically listened to this song on repeat until I stopped typing.

WARNING NSFW CONTENT BELOW

******************************************************

Cardan strode into the heady club, smoke swirling around him as he moved passed the hoard of desire-driven patrons. This was madness, utter madness. If they were going to make a break for it, it was the only way.

The first time he watched her wrapped that damned silken leg around the silvered pole as she spun round and round. Her hair cascading down to the stage and two makeshift horns styled atop her head, he had become entranced. Then her bronzed eyes locked on to his. From the moment they made contact on that fateful evening she had damned the very air he breathed. It was like the black mark on his soul had a match with the then stranger. The first month of her dancing he watched her in an obsessive annoyance as she had called it. He recognized the anger and fury roiling in her. The cold as ice blood and stone heart too. Cardan knew it so well because he was the same on the inside. Just a pit of blackness using his tongue, liquor, and sex to get through his fucked up life. Until her.

Several months ago, Jude Duarte cornered him in a private room saved for the higher paying customers. They argued, voices hoarse as screaming at each other. Over a patron who touched her in a way that made Cardan’s blood boil. He had no grounds to step in. He should have let her make the mistake, yet he couldn’t help it. The youngest Greenbriar chose to express it as Jude being property to not be touched. That she belonged to the Hollow, to his brother Balekin. Until she paid off her debt. And no one was to touch her less they pay for it. Locke was a dirty patron Cardan knew didn’t pay it. Jude raised her hand, striking him across the cheek. Every fiber of being filled with heat and lust. It was then Cardan realized he was insane. The smart thing would’ve been to get Balekin. He did no such thing. She was his tinder, and he, her flint.

Cardan gripped her arm, then the flint struck against tinder, igniting the sparks that led to burning flames. Crushing his mouth onto hers, bruising those lips he’s dreamed of since he first saw them. those smooth lush lips and the teeth behind them that grazed and pulled on his own. She never backed away. Only pushing into him further and further. He could taste the want and desperation on her as her tongue rolled around his. The need to feel alive. They were alone and he opened the way for Jude to get everything she needed. At that time it meant nothing. He meant nothing. Cardan didn’t care how or when she wanted him. All he knew was she was a tempting sin that he couldn’t resist. Horns like a devil, mouth as wicked as one too. He would sell his darkened soul to this she-devil if only to experience this high again and again.

He was undone. Forever.

Now he sits in the same leather seat that started this all. The very same that begun his fascination with her. When all he did was pleasure himself to wicked thoughts of her body and his. To bringing those dreams to life where they both used each other's bodies purely for distraction. The feelings, the deep-seated affection, and love came after. Until Balekin found out and Cardan was attacked brutally by him. Struck repeatedly till his bones screamed in agony for sleeping with his brother’s prized dancer. Balekin tripled her debt to a price even Cardan couldn’t pay off. Cardan was stuck in the hospital for a week as he and Jude discussed plans to leave Insmire behind and for good. Jude wanted to kill the bastard for what he did to Cardan. His face swollen and bloodied so badly she hardly recognized the devastatingly handsome features underneath. Cardan said no. He didn’t want his brother’s death on her hands nor did he want them to be running all their lives. Cardan had enough money for them to leave Elfhame and the city of Insmoor behind. To live on a new continent where the name Greenbriar was just another name.

On the outside, he looked calm and ready for this. To bolt like hell when her dance was done. On the inside he felt the burning rise of bile, his stomach churning and anxiousness rippling through his veins. After this, they would be freed from a hellish paradise to a heavenly one. Cardan was sure after the grueling and horrid things he and Jude have done in their lives that neither deserves such a thing. They didn’t care, They were sneaking their way out to freedom. Lights turned low as the deep red lights shined on the black curtain before him. The bass began to fill the room vibrating within his chest. Cardan had to stifle the grin when he heard the song play. Horns, the one he played for her in his apartment claiming it reminded him of her. Of how it described the way she burst into miserable life, She laughed crawling on top over his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Cardan shook away from the pleasurable memory. This wasn’t the time to reminisce he needed to keep alert and focused. Hell, he hadn’t even touched his wine, only ordering for show. The curtains pulled apart and there his wonderfully wicked lady stood. Her last and final dance, she was to make a show of it. As the bass thundered around them, Cardan only saw her, as he knew she did the same. Mother above the costume choice, Jude truly took the song and magnified it. Hair darkened by the light fell in long waves, except for those horns of hers styled upward with a slight edge. Desperately he longed to grip her hair of horns and fuck her ruthlessly. That would come later when they were safely away.

She sauntered down the shimmering black catwalk in eight-inch heels that melded from red to black and red again. His darkened gaze followed up from her accentuated legs to barely-there garment hugging on her hips, showing off the curves of her ass and hips for all the world to see. Her breasts generously spilling over from the center of the bra, if one could call it that. Both pieces black with a glittering crimson throughout. Good. She kept it as practical as she could without raising too much attention. Jude’s lips were of the deepest scarlet, and eyelids covered in the darkest of blacks. Her gaze met Cardan’s as is if to speak one single word.

Soon.

Yes, soon they would be away from abusive family and men who leered at Jude while she moved her body in tantalizing ways. Wishing to eat her alive. What these men didn’t know, was Jude would do the same and leave their corpses in her wake. In minutes they would be away from here and the grimy streets of Insmoor City. Jude reached up to the top of her pole and begun her dance.

Her legs spread wide, for her audience. The whistles came and so did the money being thrown to the stage as he wrapped her legs around the pole, arching her back upward. Her palms trailing up the expanse of her body grasping her breasts in the movement. Winking and blowing kisses at no one in particular. She was making it difficult for him to focus. With the way, she grasped at her soft mounds. The same way Cardan did when he plowed into her and Jude’s leg wrapped around him. His mouth hot on her neck. He shook his head once more watching with wanton intensity. Listening to people around him shouting at her to remove more. He fought the envy roiling inside him at the demanding, pleading requests. Cardan watched her glide round and round on the pole like it was a slide. She gripped the metal once more flinging her body around and curling herself inward before slipping to the stage. On all fours she crawled towards him, eyes sharp and glowing like a predator hunting her prey.

Cardan leaned back in the cushioned, worn leather as Jude climbed on to him in a sensual fluid motion. Her hands sliding up his thighs, reaching in between palming at his half-hard cock. His hands steadied on her hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into her ass, Jude rolled her hips tipping her head back simultaneously against him. Winding her fingers through his thick onyx locks angling his head where she could run her hot mouth and fire breaths over his neck and to his lobe.

“Do me and my two horns give you a little bit?” that lustful wickedness pouring out of her, her fingers dropped back down stroking his length over his slacks, “I guess so.”

“Fuck Jude,” he growled.

She kept grinding her hips over his, As she pl toyed with his hair. Nails raking along his hairline as if he was another customer, "Did you do it?”

He resisted every urge in his body screaming at him to claim her mouth, bury himself in her witnessing Jude turn into a mess of keen moans and panting breaths. Give these people a real show. It wasn't beneath him to do so. His brother's cronies were in the shadows and leaving held priority.

"Out like a light," the scorching touch of his palms splayed on her bareback, sliding to the nape of her neck. Jude lifted a leg in front of him, twisting around her back against his solid frame. Cardan pulled Jude flush to him. Nose brushing along her shoulder replacing the path with his mouth then his teeth, nipping at her exposed his flesh, "The ghost said he gave enough for him to be out cold for 8-10 hours, " he murmured into her ear, "By then we will be gone."

Jude turned to face him. A smirk on her rouge colored lips resolve and excitement dancing in her eyes at the unknowing future, gone the face of a broken exotic dancer who lost everything and everyone. Cardan pretended to whisper sultry nothings in her ear. She giggled perfectly playing the part of a flirty dancer.

"Good. I'm done dancing," Jude slipped her hand in his, tugging up him from his seat, "Ready?"

"My dearest Jude, lead the way."

He followed her like he was another drunk patron, paying for extra services. They maneuvered through the crowd and no one paid the pair no mind. Slipping past a waitress with a tray of drinks in her hand, Jude pulled Cardan onto her in a small alcove. Her eyes searched his. A moment of sincerity crossed onto her features.

"Card, if he finds us. I won't hesitate to kill him," it wasn't a threat, but a promise.

"I know. Let's hope he doesn't," he knew she would. If not for the determination in her tone, but the fact she swore it daily, "Shall we?"

Bracing an arm on the door, the other curling around her waist. His mouth meeting hers in a hungry kiss, teeth, and tongues clashing, acting the way a drunk patron would if she was going to take him. Jude reached for the knob, twisting it, while Cardan kept her close, and together they slipped through the doorway into the cool night air.

******************************************************

Available on ao3

would anyone be interested to see this continue??

taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @b00kworm @negativenesta @sjm-things @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12

If you’d like to be added to my taglist let me know!

#jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #modern au #jurdan fic #beccas 9k celebration #msv drabbles #tfota #tcp #twk #qon #becca writes #horns #this was fun

286 notes · View notes

bubblywrites · 4 years

Text

All Of The Good Things

Bruno Buccellati x Reader

Summary:

Y/n was the love of Bruno's life. When she died, Bruno became broken. He tries to push through the pain for their daughter Mari, but he ultimately struggles to make it through their day to day life. All he can do is reminisce on all the good moments he had with his wife.

Word Count: 5,248

A/n: The reader has curly hair, but you can ignore that detail if you don’t have that hair texture. The fic is based off of Jhene Aiko’s song Eternal Sunshine

Bruno was awoken by the warm kiss of sunlight and angelic humming. The tune held a sense of joy but had a hint of sadness. Bruno felt himself relax further as soft hands gently grasped his face to move him on to pillowly thighs. Slender fingers ran through his blue-tinted black locks with occasional soft tugs. Bruno let a smile creep onto his face as he sighed through his nose. The beautiful humming stopped.

“Did I wake you?” You asked with a faint chuckle. Bruno kept his eyes closed as he responded to your question. “I thought I could pretend to be asleep, so I could hear more of your humming.” He said in a groggy voice. “Well you failed at that.” You said. You gently pinched his cheek. Bruno let out a low laugh. “I did. Could you please continue?” Bruno asked. “No problem.” You responded.

You began to hum your song again. Light notes flowed out of you with grace. Words soon followed. Bruno snuggled further into your thighs as you sang.

“Is it strange for me to say that If I were to die today There's not a thing I would change I've lived well Maybe I have made mistakes and been through my fair share of pain But all in all, it's been okay, I've lived well And the more that I see, the more that I know I don't know anything, at all Like the more that I breath, and start to go slow Oh, one of many things, I can only recall All of the good things, good things All of the good things, good things Only the good, the good, the good Only the good, the good, the good” You stopped your song. Bruno kept his eyes closed but raised an eyebrow at your sudden silence. He felt light taps to his forehead.

“It’s time for you to go to work Bruno.” You said. Bruno scrunched his eyebrows at your statement. He reluctantly pulled himself from your thighs to sit up on the bed. He stretched his arms which created defined creases along the toned muscles of his back. A view he knew you enjoyed since he slept with no shirt on. He raked his fingers through his bed hair. He turned around to catch you in the middle of your.

“Do you enjoy the view cara?” Bruno joked. “I do every morning.” You said. Bruno chuckled at your response. “Do you know what I enjoy every morning?” Bruno asked. You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a small smirk on your face. You blinked at him slowly. He loved when you gave him sass. It gave him a chance to wipe the smirk off your face and teach you lessen.

“What?” You questioned. Bruno scooted closer to you. He gently grasped your face and brought your forehead against his. He looked into your (e/c) eyes with an intense gaze. He had to stop his smirk when he saw light pink creep unto your face. Bruno tilted his head to press his lips against yours. The kiss started off chaste but became hungry. Bruno pulled you into his lap and snaked his arms around your waist. You rested your hands on his shoulders. Bruno licked your lower lip asking for entrance. You refused him.

“She’s still acting sassy.” Bruno thought to himself. Bruno used his right hand to pinch your peaked nipple through your pajama shirt. You opened your mouth to let out a squeak which allowed him to slide his tongue into your mouth. He engaged in a dance with your tongue. A dance that only the two of you knew. Your soft moan spurred Bruno on. He held you in a desperate embrace as if you would disappear. You two broke the kiss for air. Bruno held you against him as he laid back down on the bed. He peppered your face with kisses. Your giggles were music to his ears. Your singing, humming, laughter, moans, and cries were beautiful performances meant for his ears alone. You were his personal symphony. You stopped your giggle fit and cusped the side of Bruno’s face. He leaned into your touch to bask in your warmth.

“Its not like you to get side tracked Mr. Workaholic. But I won’t play into anymore of your affections. You need to get ready for the day. Plus you need to wake up Mari.” You said. Bruno’s face grew sullen. He grabbed the hand that held his face.

“When I wake up to get ready with Mari, you won’t be there.” He said in a broken voice. You two held on to each other tighter. You gave him a sad smile.

“I know Bruno, but you have to get ready for work. You have to get ready for Mari. You have to move on Bruno.” You said. Bruno’s eyes shot open at your words. How could he possibly move on? There was only one love of his life. There was only one woman who could be a mother to his precious Mari. There was only one woman who could bring him happiness. There was only one you.

“How could I move on from you amore mio? You and Mari are the only women who I can hold close to my heart.” He said. Bruno’s voice shook. Tears spilled from his eyes as he held a vice-grip on your hand and waist. He felt your warm fingers wipe away his tears. You moved closer to him to press a kiss against his forehead. “Bruno, amore mio, you have to get ready. You have to get Mari ready. You have to wake up.”

Loud buzzing rang through Bruno’s bedroom. Bruno turned to look at his alarm clock with pure malice. He slammed his hand on the device to turn it off. Bruno lifted his hand to wipe the grogginess away from his eyes. He stopped when he noticed the tears that streaked down his face. The sunlight streamed into his room to kiss his skin. But the kiss of the sun felt more like a cold grip on his body without your morning songs. Bruno moved to get out of bed. He did not dare look at the other side of the bed. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of your lack of presence. Bruno stared at the drawer next to his bed. Your perfume, charm bracelets, and makeup decorated the top of the drawer. They never moved spots since the day you passed. His head sunk low as his mind raced with memories of your morning routines.

“Why do you even wear makeup? You're pretty without it.” Bruno asked. “I don’t just wear it to feel prettier. I wear it because it’s fun. It's like I allow myself to become my own canvas. I am able to tell a story with my face.” You responded. Bruno grabbed your hand to kiss it. “Your bare face tells the best story of all.” Bruno said. You blushed at his words. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Bruno gripped his dark locks so tight his knuckles turned white. Before he could let his mind wander to more memories of you, a small knock came from his door. Bruno attempted to wipe the dread from his face before he answered. “Come in.” He said. The door creaked as a tiny body entered the room. Bruno stared at his three year old daughter, Mari. Mari had his blue-tinted black hair, but it was your curly hair texture. She had his eyes, but everything else came from you.

“Buon giorno, Daddy.” She said. “Buon giorno, Mari.” Bruno responded. He opened his arms wide with a smile. His smile was tired and felt strained, but Bruno wanted to try his hardest to look happy for his daughter. Mari ran into his arms. He embraced her as tight as he could. After a few seconds, he pulled away from the hug. Bruno rested his hand on the top of her head. He twirled her curls around his fingers. Mari did not look as tired as he did, but she had changed. Her childish laughter could no longer be heard through the halls of the house. She smiled less and slept more often. It made the house quieter and colder.

“Daddy!” Mari yelled. Bruno turned to see Mari turn the corner in a rush. She jumped at him. Although surprised, Bruno caught Mari with ease. “What's got you screaming and running through the house bambina?” Bruno asked with a smile. “Mommy is chasing me. You have to help me.” Mari said with giddiness. Before he could act, you entered the kitchen with your radiant smile. You looked at the two with an exaggerated maniacal face.

“She found me!” Mari yelled. Bruno pressed Mari closer to his chest. “I see I have two tickle victims now.” You said. You laughed like a villain in a child’s television show. Bruno put Mari down to step in front of her. He put his arm in front of her. Bruno cleared his throat.

“I will not let you harm my princess you villainess queen.” Bruno said. Bruno had to try hard to hold in his laugh. You jumped at Bruno, but he caught you with ease. He gave you a soft tackle to the floor and attacked your sides. You erupted into laughter. You tried to push him off of you, but Bruno only applied more pressure onto your body.

“Get her Daddy!” Mari said enthusiastically. Bruno turned to give Mari a heroic smile. Bruno didn’t notice you took advantage of his distracted state to grab Mari. You pulled her which caused Bruno to fall on top of you. Mari landed on top of Bruno’s back.

“You guys are heavy.” You whined. Bruno looked at you with a grin that stretched ear to ear. Mari giggled into Bruno’s back. The laughter and joy in the kitchen resonated through the whole house.

Bruno let out a sigh as he realized he will never have moments like that again. He picked Mari up to take her to her room. As he walked down the hallway, he tried hard not to look at the pictures that littered the wall. All of the pictures were filled with your smiles. A smile that once brought him so much joy now brings him pain and regret. He can’t look at your exquisite paintings because all he can think about is the happy look on your face when you made them.

When he entered Mari’s room, he stared at the intricate design of her room. The walls were painted with blue waves that crashed against each other along with an assortment of colorful fish to match. Beautiful seashells and conch shells hung from the ceiling. Mari’s bed sheets had cerulean and white stripes to match the eyes she got from her father as well as his favorite color. The carpet was seafoam green to match the sea aesthetic of the room.

“Your eyes have always reminded me of the sea. Since she has your eyes, she will be a child of the sea, so her room should match.” You said.

“How do you even come up with these conclusions.” Bruno said with a laugh.

Bruno blinked away the tears that resurfaced from his memories. “Daddy are you okay?” Mari asked. “I’m fine. Are you okay?” Bruno asked. “I miss Mommy.” Mari said. Her eyes started to water. Bruno held her close and rubbed her back.

“I miss Mommy too.” Bruno responded. Mari sniffled and wiped her eyes. She kicked her feet, a signal for Bruno to put her down. He obliged as he went to rummage through her drawers to find her comb and hair products. Once he found the items, he called Mari over. She crawled into his lap. Bruno attempted to comb through the mess of curls on Mari’s head, but the comb got caught in her hair multiple times. He yanked the comb in frustration which caused Mari to yelp in pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you bambina.” Bruno apologized. He kissed the top of her head. Mari turned around to kiss Bruno’s cheek. “It’s okay. Mommy said to comb at the ends and-” “To comb section by section while applying conditioner and curl cream. I remember, thank you.” Bruno said. Mari wiggled in his lap as she nodded her head. Bruno laughed and kissed her forehead. She settled back into his lap to let him continue.

“Bruno, I told you to pay attention while I do her hair. You're gonna have to do it on days I leave earlier than you.” You scolded.

“I’m watching (Y/n), I’m watching (Y/n).” Bruno said. “No you’re not. You’re staring at my butt.” You responded. “Are those new shorts?” Bruno asked, with a smile plastered onto his face. “Bruno!” You yelled.

Bruno smiled at the memory. He pulled Mari into a hug. She squeezed his arms back. “I should’ve paid more attention when your mother did your hair. All I could do was put into a ponytail.” Bruno said. He motioned to grab the baby blue mirror on the dresser to show Mari her hair. She moved side to side to get a good look at herself. There wasn’t much of an expression on her face. Bruno gulped.

“Do you like it?” He asked. “Yes.” She responded. Her voice was laced with confusion. “I don’t have to lick your face to know you're lying.” Bruno said. His face formed into a pout. Mari giggled.

“Its not ugly. Its just not as pretty as mommy’s.” Mari said with a hint of sadness. Bruno patted her head and said, “I know, but thank you for trying to like it.” “I don’t have to try. I do like it. Good job Daddy.” Mari said. She gave him two thumbs ups. Bruno chuckled before he thanked her for her honesty.

“Before we get dressed, we have to eat so you don’t mess up your dress. What do you want to eat?” Bruno asked. Mari bounced as she gave her response. “I wanna eat plantains and eggs.” Fried plantains and eggs were your favorite breakfast dish. It was strange to him at first but it grew on him. Mari on the other hand, took an immediate liking to the meal. Bruno put his index finger and thumb to his chin while he looked at the ceiling.

“The eggs I can do. I might burn the plantains though.” Bruno said. “Daddy, the kinda burnt ones are the best ones.” Mari responded. Bruno looked at Mari surprised. His surprise was short lived as he broke into laughter.

Bruno picked up Mari to go downstairs. He was greeted by a silent kitchen. Mornings were never quiet with you. The silence was dreadful and lonely. The cold floor tiles were cruel to his feet. The white marble counters looked dull without your vibrant dishes splayed on them. Bruno stared at the counter for a moment to admire your colorful knife set. The ones you bought to make the kitchen look more lively.

Loud upbeat music played as Bruno made his way downstairs. There you were, engaged in a dance as you prepared breakfast. Bruno leaned on the wall to take in the sight. You swayed your hips to the beat of the song and gave an occasional butt wiggle. Bruno tiptoed around the kitchen in hopes you would not see him. He was as graceful as a ninja. Once he got behind you, he grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. You jumped, which made you let out a scream. You turned around in his grasp. You smacked his shoulder in a playful manner.

“You scared the life out of me Bruno.” You said with a smile. “What do you have to be scared of? Were the only ones here.” Bruno said with a chuckle.

Bruno sighed. He put Mari down so he could start his scavenge of the fridge. He put his hand to the side of his neck as he realized the fridge was empty. He looked to the counters, but all there were was leftover takeout boxes and one plantain. Bruno brought the fruit to his nose. He took a whiff and scrunched up his nose.

“This one’s been sitting on the counter for too long. Sorry Mari, I guess we’ll have to grab breakfast on the way. Your mother would scream if she saw the state of the kitchen right now.” Bruno said. Mari’s face became sullen. Her head sunk low while she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. Bruno frowned at her action.

“Its okay. I’m not very hungry anyway. We’re gonna eat later anyway.” Mari said. Bruno knew that if you were here, Mari would throw a fit that she could not have plantains and eggs for breakfast. She tried to be more behaved ever since you passed. Bruno sighed. He walked over to Mari so that he could grab her little hands.

“I’ll tell you what. We can pick up some plantains and eggs from the farmers market today. We can have them for dinner tonight.” Bruno said. “Okay.” Mari responded with a small smile.

Bruno picked up Mari to head back upstairs to her room. He opened her closet to pull out her small black dress. The dress was a simple short sleeve with little black frills at the bottom. Your sister picked it out for her. Bruno dressed Mari in little time.

“Stay here while I go get dressed.” Bruno said as he tapped her nose. “Make sure to comb your hair Daddy. Its been messy all morning.” Mari said. Bruno ran his fingers through his hair. It slipped his mind to fix it when he woke up. You probably would have reminded him. Bruno walked back to his room and closed the door behind him. Contrary to Mari’s room, you and his shared bedroom was rather simple. The walls were painted white, the bedsheets on the king sized bed were navy blue, and the carpet was a light beige. The only things that made the room standout were the paintbrushes that laid on the table and dressers and the curtains. The curtains were white with black spoon shaped polka dots. They were identical to his signature white suit.

Bruno opened the closet to take out his black suit. The suit was like his white one except the dots were white instead of black, the chest area was closed, and it lacked his golden zipper accessories. Bruno put on the suit in no time. He stood in the mirror to tie his tie but stopped. His eyes lacked their usual shine, darks circles and bags adorned his eyes. There were a few breakouts on his forehead and cheek. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Bruno grabbed his comb to run it through his hair. He sectioned off a large strand of hair to do his braid.

“Let me do your braid.” You asked. “Alright.” Bruno responded. He moved to sit on the bed. You stood between his legs and started to work in his hair. Bruno sighed as he let himself relax into your touch. He shifted closer to you to take in a deep whiff of your tropical scent.

Bruno finished up his braid. He took one last look in the mirror before he set out to leave. He glanced at the dresser and paused when he saw your tropical scented perfume. Bruno pondered for a moment. He contemplated on whether or not he should wear it. It was a scent he loved on you but thought it would be strange if he ever wore it. He shook his head and grabbed the bottle. Bruno sprayed the scented liquid onto himself three times before he exited his room.

“Mari, were leaving.” Bruno called out. Mari ran out from her room. She raised her hand towards Bruno to grab his hand. Bruno intertwined his fingers with hers. They put on their shoes and left for the church.

When Bruno and Mari arrived at the church, his gang was there. Your siblings were there as well. After you died, missed calls and unanswered text messages from them piled up in his phone. He declined any in person meetups with them. He couldn’t look them in the eyes or muster the courage to talk to them. The only one he talked to was (S/n), your sister. It was a one time conversation he had with her to ask her to pick out the funeral dress for Mari and to discuss the funeral details.

Everyone looked at him but said nothing. Their eyes were filled with sympathy. They all knew that anything they said would not lift Bruno’s spirits. As he went to take his seat with Mari, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see who it was. He was greeted by emerald green eyes and all to familiar golden hair.

“Giorno.” Bruno whispered. “May I speak to you?” Giorno asked. Bruno turned his head to Mari. She gave a small smile to Giorno. He smiled back at her with a small wave. “Buccellati, I’ll look after her.” Mista said. He popped up out of nowhere. Bruno almost did not recognize Mista without his hat. With his short brown hair out, Mista somehow looked more mature.

Bruno nodded at Mista. He made his way out of the church’s sanctuary with Giorno. Bruno admired the stained glass and red checkered flooring. The church was beautiful. It would always be beautiful to Bruno since this was the church where he married you. It was only appropriate that he had your funeral held here.

They stopped at the doors of the sanctuary to talk. “Buccellati, you look tired. When was the last time you slept properly?” Giorno asked. “The last time I slept properly, (Y/n) was in bed waiting for me.” Bruno responded. Giorno swallowed.

“I want you to know none of this was your fault. No one could have ever predicted the chauffeur would get into an accident.” Giorno said. Giorno looked Bruno in the eyes with intensity. His expression was soft but held a sense of dominance. It was like Giorno offered all his sympathies to Bruno but wanted to command his friend to care for himself. Bruno turned from Giorno’s gaze. His face was overcome with guilt.

“If I never suggested she take the chauffeur to her art show, she would still be here.” Bruno whispered.

You were not part of the gang. You were a civilian who made a successful art career for yourself. You and Bruno met when you two were thirteen. You were a girl left alone in this world to care for your three younger siblings. The owner of Libeccio, was a friend of your father’s who took you and your siblings in. Bruno met you there. At first you were a bother to him. He would answer in short sentences and one word phrases in an attempt not to be rude, but to let you know to back off. However, you were persistent. You bothered him constantly to try to talk. He wanted nothing to do with you since he was part of the mafia. However, one day Bruno yielded. He sat down and had a full conversation with you. The conversation was meant to be short, but Bruno found that he enjoyed his time with you. His talk with you allowed him to open up a little. It made him feel happy that someone sat down to really look at him. Someone truly wanted to know more about him without the urge to have something in return. He continued to talk to you at the restaurant, in your room, his house, and your secret hideout: a rooftop of an abandoned building. He knew the more time you spent with him could put you in danger, but he wanted to be selfish when it came to you. With you, he could be himself. With you, he had someone he could confide in. With you, he had a true friend that looked past his mafia ties to see the real him. With you, he fell in love. With you, he had a daughter. With you, came your death.

Your art show was about a month ago. The show was meant for you to promote some of your most recent pieces. You said you would be fine if you drove yourself, but Bruno insisted you take one of his chauffeurs. You took his offer. When the chauffeur arrived, you kissed his and Mari’s cheeks, excited to see them at your show. However, you never arrived at the show. Your car was hit by a drunk driver. You had a stand ability that could heal, but the crash caused you to fall unconscious. You were unable to heal yourself. Bruno did not find out about the accident until an hour after it happened. By that time, it was too late. The doctors could not save you. Giorno could not save. He could not save you.

Bruno clutched your hand as he stared into your lifeless face. He cried into your palm.

“Please, amore mio, don’t leave us. I can’t lose another person I love.” Bruno pleaded. You did not answer. You would never be able to answer him again.

Bruno turned to look at the sanctuary. The church staff had brought in your casket. Bruno gulped. “The ceremony will be starting soon.” Bruno said, in a voice no louder than whisper. Giorno said nothing as Bruno walked back to his seat next to Mari. Mista still sat with her. Mista gave Bruno a saddened face before he patted his shoulder and went back to his own seat.

The priest came out in his white robe to say his prayers. After the priest gave his piece, All of your siblings came up to give their sentiments. Bruno wished he could focus on what they had to say, but his eyes were glued to your casket. He did not get a good look at your face from his distance. In all honesty, he was scared to get a good look at you. He did not know how he would react if he got a second look at your dead body. Bruno’s was pulled out of his stupor when he saw it was his turn to speak about you. Bruno trudged up the stairs of the altar. He saw your face. It was peaceful, but you had a scar that ran diagonally on your right cheek. Bruno began to tremble. He bit his lip as he stared at your body. He slowly turned around to look at the guests. Your siblings and Marco, the owner of Libeccio, along with his son were sitting on the left side of the room. Narancia, Mista, Fugo, Abbacchio, Giorno, Mari and others who knew the two of you were on the right. Bruno gulped. He opened his mouth but found no words. How could he summarize his life with you? Where could he even begin to talk about how much you meant to him? Bruno used all his might to force some kind of words out.

“(Y/n), was the light of my life. She was my happiness, my joy, my everything. (Y/n) was my, uhm, my...ah.” Bruno stuttered. He could no longer form coherent sentences. He hung his head low so he would not cry. But he hung his head more so in shame that he could not say more about his beloved wife. Everyone poured their sympathies to Bruno with their eyes. They all understood that your death would hit Bruno the hardest. Unable to speak, Bruno slowly walked back to his seat. After some more words from other attendees, it was time for everyone to pay their respects to you. It broke Bruno when Mari started to cry and scream for her mother. It took everything Bruno had to not wail alongside her. He held Mari close to try and soothe her. He repeated to Mari over and over again everything would be okay. The repetition of the phrase was an attempt to try to convince himself that everything would be okay.

Everyone left the church to move to the burial site. Not many words were shared at the burial site. Everyone said what they had to share in the church. Bruno watched as men put your casket into the ground. Mari squeezed his hand as tight as she could as she continued to cry. Bruno held her hand with just as much force. Every small pile of dirt that landed on your casket tugged at Bruno’s heart strings. Soon the whole was filled. You were truly no longer of this world. People tried to give Bruno and Mari words of encouragement as they left, but Bruno drowned their words out. Marco came up to Bruno. He put his hand on his shoulder before he spoke.

“She really loved you Buccellati. Keep smiling for her and Mari. She needs you more than anyone right now. Also talk to them.” Marco said, as he pointed his thumb to your siblings. “(S/n) and the others don't blame you for their sister’s death. They're your family too. So am I.” Marco said. Bruno looked at Marco’s face ready to cry. Although his black hair was greyed and his brown eyes were adorned with crows feet, Marco still looked young for a fifty-five year old man. Marco became a second father to Bruno after he started his relationship with you. Marco was protective of you when it came to boys but never with Bruno. Marco trusted him. Bruno knew he would always have a special place in Marco’s heart and vice versa. Marco gave Bruno a strong squeeze and a smile. He let go of Bruno and ruffled Mari’s hair before he took his leave. All of his team members knew not to say anything to him. They knew he needed this time alone with his daughter. Everyone left one by one until him and Mari were the only ones at your grave. The two of them stood in silence as they stared at your tombstone. The silence was broken as Mari began to sing.

“Is is strange for me to say that If I were to die today There's not a thing I would change I've lived well Maybe I have made mistakes and been through my fair share of pain But all in all, it's been okay, I've lived well And the more that I see, the more that I know I don't know anything, at all Like the more that I breath, and start to go slow Oh, one of many things, I can only recall” Mari sang.

Bruno began to shake as Mari sang her song. It was the song you wrote and always sang around the house. It was the song you sang or hummed to him almost every morning. Bruno could no longer keep up his mental damn. He let his tears fall, but he smiled through them. He looked at Mari as she smiled back at him. They sang unison, “All of the good things, good things All of the good things, good things Only the good, the good, the good Only the good, the good, the good”

#bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #guido mista #giorno giovanna

60 notes · View notes

wittyrosebush · 3 years

Note

Congratulations !!!

30 with Steve Rodgers please? ♥️♥️♥️

La Revolucion

Pairing: Pre-Infinity War!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mild violence, brief swearing

Summary: After the Avengers split up, Steve thinks back to the first time he met the love of his life.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Date Posted: 2/7/2021

A/N: Thank you, Anon!!! This one is based off of Americano by Lady Gaga. The song is about immigration law and LGBT+ marriage in America. It took me a while to figure out how to go about writing this (apparently its best done at 1am), so I hope you enjoy! I'm lowkey proud of this one ngl.

Once again, let me know what you think about this one! More are coming out soon.

Steve walked Bucky off the jet into Wakanda with a stern look on his face. Something seemed off about his friend, so the brunette stopped walking. "What's wrong, Buck?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, I'm just worried about you," Bucky said. He was being escorted to the place where he was to be put into a coma like state for who knows how long.

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion, "Why are you worried about me?"

"I don't want you to be alone, you need someone to keep your impulse control in check."

The blonde humorlessly chuckled, "I won't be alone."

"Oh really?"

The pair made it to the entrance of Shuri's lab and there was a tense silence. Neither men could face the other before Steve broke the silence, "I met a girl in East LA."

Bucky nudged his shoulder and smirked, "Finally! Is she pretty?"

"She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he smiled with a slight blush coming onto his face.

Bucky turned towards his best friend. "Thank you for assuring me that you won't be stupid alone."

"You're taking all the stupid for yourself." Steve said as he pulled him into a hug.

After saying their goodbyes, Steve walked back to the quinjet, reminiscing about meeting her.

~~~

Steve sat at a bar alone, watching the latest drug cartel leader. After the end of his team, he wanted to continue to do good.

The blonde brought his drink to his lips as the announcer stepped on the small, wooden stage. "Thank y'all for coming out tonight! Next up we have my favorite little lady. In floral shorts as sweet as May, she sang in eights and two barrio chords, I present to you... Y/n!"

Steve barely looked away from his target to look at her, but the second he realized what he saw he looked again. He honestly thought his heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat and his palms became damp.

After a moment, he snapped out of his trance. I'm on a mission, he thought, there is no time for distractions. Steve had locked onto the sight of the cartel leader again when she started singing and he knew he was a goner.

"Mis canciones son de la revolución," she was a siren and he was the pour soul that was about to drown.

Well, he actually was choked by one of the target's bodyguards. The singing stopped as people gasped and started running to the exit. Steve was able to push the goon off of him onto the floor just as he heard the click of a revolver. "Game's up, Captain. This en-"

The sound of his attacker screaming made him turn around to see Y/n pepper spraying the group of men. She held a cloth to her mouth and tossed one to Steve, "Follow me!"

Without hesitation, she ran behind the counter with the super soldier right behind her. She pulled the latch to what appeared to be a trap door and jumped down into the darkness. Steve froze for a moment. Was this a trap?

"I suggest you come down here, sir. Unless you fancy being mauled by those angry old guys," Y/n smirked and moved aside from the opening so he could jump down. Steve hopped down and was also consumed in the darkness.

Before he had a chance to speak to the mysterious singer, his hand was being dragged away from the entrance. The next few minutes were silent besides the sound of two pairs of shoes hitting the pavement.

Finally, Y/n stopped. Steve was about to speak before he heard something unlock and his vision was flooded with light. His eyes adjusted after a moment and he looked around to see a small town. He took a deep breath and turned to Y/n, who was now leaning against a rock trying to catch her breath, "Why are you helping me? I'm sorry but this doesn't make sense, ma'am."

The woman chuckled, "Not many things do, Captain Rogers. Yet here we are." He frowned and was about to walk away before she spoke again. "I have cried for, I will die for how I care."

Steve paused and stood in front of her, intrigued. "These people have been tormented by that pig and I'm sick of it. I'd do anything to protect my home," she all but whispered.

The blonde only nodded. He had researched the town before coming here.; it was a town filled with criminals and the people they had control over, whether it was individuals or entire families.

Steve hummed, "They have you're family?"

She smiled, looking down at the ground. "No, I got them out 2 years ago. And I don't plan on stopping until they're all away from the west coast."

Y/n looked up after a minute to see the space in front of her empty. Captain America was no where to be seen.

~~~

A few days later there was a knock against Y/n's dressing room door. She set down her mascara and held her pepper spray in a steel grip, "Who is it?"

When no one answered, she let out a shaky sigh. Quiet footsteps could be heard outside the door and a deep voice saying, "I'll take care of her, get the rest." She froze and looked at the door in pure fear.

"This is it," she murmured as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Just as the lock turned she fumbled for one of her shoes and threw it as hard as she could at the blonde man in a dark blue super suit.

Luckily, Steve had his shield in front of him. Y/n gasped and put her hands over her mouth. The poor man peeking his eyes out from behind his shield with a worried gaze. The female ran an anxious hand through her hair and tried not to meet his scared gaze. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Steve! I didn't know it was you and I got scared and-"

Steve gestured for her to be quiet and she abruptly stopped. After a moment of just staring at each other, him thanking god you didn't pepper spray him and her praying that he didn't think she was a lunatic, he offered his hand.

Before Y/n could take hold of his hand, yelling could be heard upstairs. The super soldier swiftly scooped her into his arms and bolted out of the room.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as they ran through the building. Once the exit was in sight it seemed like everything was going to be okay. That was until two goons ripped the door from its hinged and rushed towards Y/n and Steve.

Steve huffed and quickly turned a corner, causing the female to yelp and hold him tighter. Suddenly, the short pants stopped from the blonde, "Hold on tight, ma'am."

Before she could say a word Steve jumped out the window. Y/n was now curled in a ball and screaming at the top of her lungs as Steve flipped them onto his back.

The air from the two pairs of lungs were knocked out when they hit the ground. While Y/n clenched her eyes shut, Steve saw the goons chasing them being kicked out of the window by his favorite red-headed assassin.

"You and your girl ok, Rogers?" Natasha said as she coyly waved at the two of them. Steve could only chuckle and look up at the stars.

After a moment of adrenaline filled tranquility, Y/n spoke up. "I guess we're even now, Captain Rogers."

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked down at the woman in his arms. She smiled at him and rested her chin on his chest, "I saved you, you saved me."

"Technically we aren't even," he said and sat up as he helped her do the same, "my team got everyone out of the town, you were the last to pick up."

Y/n was silent for a moment, her mouth hanging open in shock. Steve gave her a moment to control her thoughts and stared deep into her eyes when she spoke again, "Why would you help us? You barely know these people, let alone me."

Steve looked away, happy that it was dark so she couldn't see his face turning a light shad of pink, "You're a good person, and these people didn't deserve what they were given."

This time Y/n stared into his alluring eyes, sensing he had more to say. "Plus I wanted to see if you would go dancing with me one night."

Steve wanted to burry his face in his hands but they were still glued to her waist. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making Steve a flustered mess. "Well it wasn't just that-I mean you also seem to have a set of skills that could be useful on the team-"

Y/n chuckled and stood up, "Who would have thought that a kiss on the face would fluster the greatest Avenger." Steve huffed and stood up. The female still had a smile plastered on her face, "So, are you asking me on a date or asking me to join your team?"

"Both," he said, "there's a lot of bad in this world and with the right training you could help minimize it." Steve offered his hand to her and she glanced at it, returning to his intense gaze. "What do you say, Y/n?"

She smirked and grabbed his hand, "Let's start a revolution."

#captain america #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #captain america x reader #i should probably go to bed #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x female reader

15 notes · View notes

noir0neko · 4 years

Text

Crime and Creation | m

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 15.5k

Summary: The Crow Club. One of the University of Ketterdam’s secret societies aimed at recruiting the finest students who want a taste of more than just lectures. Meet Kaz, the founder and president, whose self-made millions come from his dealings on Wall Street. Nina, a girl who is aching for more than the fortune and husband her family has laid out for her. Inej, whose observant nature and ability to be invisible makes her the perfect spy. Jesper, a childhood friend of Kaz’s who can’t resist getting into a little trouble joined by his boyfriend, Wylan, son of the University dean. And Cataleya, an Upper West side journalism major who has a special way with words. When Kaz finds out the Crow Club’s dealings have been infiltrated by an unknown rival, his crew enlists the help of outsiders to ruin reputations, throw lavish parties, and do what the New York City Crows do best: heist. Until something goes very wrong.

Characters: Cataleya (OC), Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Alina Starkov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, Aleksander Morosova and honorable Leoni mention.

Warnings: Death. Highly detailed emotion and inner thoughts that have memories of parental abuse and self harm, nothing very detailed. Mentions of murder, drugs, and illegal activity. General debauchery and scheming. Some romance, mostly implied, light kissing, fondling, and the use of expletives.

A/N: You do not need to have read any of the books in this world to understand this fic! I spent so much time and poured my heart and soul into this story and the development of my original character and building these characters into a new, modern world. Please read it and give me your thoughts! This piece was written for the @grishaversebigbang. Also, check out the art work made for my fic by these amazing artists: @corpsecro, @nantosuelta-art, @discountscoobygang, @lady-ekatherina-de-mika and @mikanviola! It is such an honor to be a part of something like this and I had so much fun! I encourage anyone and everyone to read the Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone series by Leigh Bardugo! It’ll be on Netflix soon!

I used to love cats.

Until one showed up dead on my window sill.

I’m still not sure how it got there. Perhaps it climbed the fire escape and lept from the metal railing onto the ledge. But once the animal had the orange pollen and poisonous petals of the lilies sticking out of my window in its mouth, it was only a matter of time before it died. I had the good sense to keep my crying quiet, at eleven years old, so that my father would not stumble in to yell or push the cat hundreds of feet to the street below. I did not know he was already gone. That I was alone.

I hid the orange tabby in my backpack and went to bury her in the backyard garden the next chance I got.

But when I used my small children’s shovel to dig into the earth, soft from the recent rain, it wasn’t what I went to bury that changed my life. But what was already buried there. And right then, with my cheeks stained with tears and hands shaking with anger, I swore to never stop hunting. To never stop chasing the people who ruined me.

That was one promise I kept.

I haven’t kept many others.

Sitting in the foyer with the rest of the Crows, wind coming in from the autumn afternoon and the scent of freshly made waffles mixing with dusty books, I don’t know if I can keep this one either. Kaz looks at me pointedly, waiting for me to answer. I glance at all of them, Nina, Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. It is rare that anyone outright refuses Kaz on anything, especially not with his position or to risk the weight of his disapproval. Nina once told Kaz to go to Hell and she paid for it with two weeks of silence and banishment from the Crow Library until she relented to do her assignment.

Jesper clears his throat, trying to relieve the awkward vibe getting thicker with each passing moment of silence. I can’t help but allow a small smile to reach my lips, grateful for him trying to save me from the tension that I could slice with a knife. Swallowing and meeting Kaz’s dark eyes, I sigh.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’m in.”

The strain dissolves from the space and the other Crows break into smiles and start to chatter. Relaxing back in my chair, I watch Inej spring up and take her place next to Kaz, her lithe frame complimenting his perfectly. Kaz moves around his large oak desk, gaze fixated on something in the distance. Definitely scheming face. Best to wait it out until he speaks first.

The Crow Library is lit with the afternoon sunlight, warming the leather of our chairs and illuminating the dust gathering along the rows of books. Shelves line the walls beneath the window, behind Kaz’s study area, and underneath the stairwell, which leads to an upstairs reading room and parlor area. Nobody has bothered to read any of the books, weathered and dusted with age, but they lend the room an air of sophistication and a homey comforting smell. Kaz’s desk is littered with papers, the dark wood barely visible beneath the jumble of stock investment deals, new heists, and class assignments waiting to be done. On the front face of the desk, a large crow is carved into the surface, black and red paint covering the indentations in the wood.

Inej puts a tender hand on Kaz’s forearm, her lips moving quickly and silently, as if whispering to him. Inej has her hair down today, an unusual occurrence from her braided coil, and the dark strands spill like silky oil over her shoulders and her waist. She must have come from the studio, sweat still gleaming on her brow and black leotard disappearing beneath dark navy leggings. Her lithe frame seems to be floating, always so modest and reserved, yet her brown eyes are intuitive and unrelenting as she studies Kaz. She has been with him since the founding of the Crow Club, never missing a beat between helping him, chastising him, watching out for him, and caring for herself all the same. It’s no wonder she’s been able to double major in both Global History and Ballet, two completely different worlds, but complimenting each other perfectly for Inej.

And Kaz. What an interesting man he’s proven to be.

Business major. Self made millionaire. First student to be admitted into the University of Ketterdam - UOK for short, without a full high school education. A man full of mysteries.

Jesper moves to perch himself on the arm of Wylan’s chair and adjusts his Queen shirt, the old black leather groaning under his weight. Jesper says something quietly to his boyfriend before running a hand through Wylan’s curly red hair and kissing his pale pert nose. Jesper has his hair buzzed short to his scalp, dark arms lean with muscle and legs long, his jeans riding up at the ankles to reveal bright yellow socks and black high tops. Wylan releases a wide smile, looking up at Jesper with untamed admiration. Wylan has on a pair of pressed dark wash jeans, his collared shirt maroon red with small white dots, accentuating his bright hair and pale skin.

It just reminds me of blood.

They are quite a pair. Wylan, being the son of the University dean and Jesper, one of the most intelligent and talented students in the Economics department. He is studying Game Theory, an extremely intense and complicated subject full of strategy, confidence, and risk: coincidentally Jesper’s three favorite words.

Wylan, much to his father’s chagrin, is an Art History student with a hidden passion for chemistry and physics. I often find him gazing at the long since forgotten portraits on the walls of the Crow Library upstairs, reminiscing of a different time, of discovery and excitement. Of different people with different secrets. Wylan usually seems lost in thought, often internally reflecting rather than being outwardly vocal like the rest of the Crows. He is another mystery, especially because of the tenuous relationship he has with his father.

Jesper’s brown skin glimmers in the sun, inclining his eyebrows in mischief before taking a toffee from the bowl next to him and flinging it across Wylan’s chair to Nina.

Her tongue flicks out as it hits her arm, thick lips smirking before unwrapping the plastic wrapper and popping the candy in her mouth. Nina is one of the only Crows who was forced into attending the University of Ketterdam. Her parents, with her father being an extremely rich and powerful Russian politician and her mother, an aristocratic woman supposedly descending from ancient Russian royalty, had been raising Nina to marry a high ranking Scandinavian commander since she was eleven. The marriage was supposed to secure better relations between the two nations, as well as provide Nina with a life of security, wealth, and status for her and her children. All her parents want for her.

In true Nina fashion, this is unacceptable.

Her family said the marriage could wait if she wanted to go to school and get a degree, which may better serve her husband and their families prestige in the future. Seeing no other viable option, especially because she did not want to marry a “white haired barbarian” as she called her husband-to-be, she enrolled in a prestigious university as far away from Russia as she could get. Despite her parents beliefs that she is a culinary student - “because a good wife knows how to cook”, according to her parents, Nina has been studying Performing Arts and Theatre. A perfect major to fit her personality and her beauty, with her tall, curvy frame and piercing green eyes. Today, she is wearing an olive bodysuit, the neck low cutting and her legs hugged by a pair of black flare jeans. Casual and entrancing. Her style seems to change depending on her mood, from modest foreigner to vivacious party girl to preppy student. New each day.

“We will need others,” Kaz mumbles to Inej, furrowing his dark eyebrows in thought.

I have only been with the Crows for a few months, but I already know how unusual that is. Kaz rarely asks for help, especially from those outside of the Crow Club. But whatever he has planned seems to be a lot more serious than the other jobs, more personal than merely ousting insider trading, or infiltrating various museums and mansions, or spying on the Upper East and West Side elite to gain intel and use it to our advantage.

Each of us has a unique purpose to Kaz. His investments. And while it has been easier to see where the others’ talents fit in, I am still baffled by my own. I adjust the sleeves of my lavender shirt, the ruffled material smooth on my shoulders.

I had known the Crow Club existed before I set foot on campus. As a journalism major, secrets have always intrigued me. Not just the secrets. The challenge of uncovering them, of working from the inside to reveal some of the deepest and darkest parts of humanity. I had always heard whispers of the club amongst the Upper West side elite, whispers about Kaz Brekker and his Crows. Always watching. Always ready to catch you red-handed. But I didn’t even need to go out of my way to find the Crow Club.

Kaz found me first. Called me an asset. He and Inej invited me to join starting the summer before my second term. I have surprised myself by warming up to the rest of the Crows so quickly, even the ones who aren’t active members and are just extra recruits for Kaz to call if he needs them. We all mean something here, we all have a purpose, more than what the world is trying to force upon us.

A family. Especially since most of ours are broken or nonexistent.

After a few minutes of waiting, Kaz snaps to attention and we follow suit, like trained soldiers, eager for him to share whatever small slice of his plan that he decides to. His crisp suit is pure black, a small crow brooch pinned to his lapel. The shaved hair on the side of his head is beginning to grow out, the top slicked back with a deep, oaky smelling gel. He always looks like he is dressed for a business meeting, even when it’s just us. Inej always muses that there is an irony to it, but how, I don’t know. I suppose everything is business to Kaz.

“Okay,” he begins, voice gruff and deep. “This is what we’ll do.”

----

Nina and I weave our way through the busy streets, blessing the cool wind as it kisses our faces in the dying summer heat. Her hair is down, the sun illuminating the many shades of brown running through the waves and her dress is high on her thighs, the red cotton fabric hugging the curves of her waist. Being in America has done wonders for Nina, brightened her complexion, improved her spirit, and turned her from a wafer-thin girl to a full-bodied, thick thighed woman. Everywhere she goes, people stare. She is otherworldly, like a saint on Earth.

“Where did Kaz send us this time?” Nina complains, sucking the dripping strawberry ice cream from her fingers before chucking the cone into a nearby trash.

“He didn’t,” I grin, dodging a guy with suspicious looking flyers on the sidewalk. “He gave us his card and very vague instructions to find a wardrobe for the event.”

Nina’s eyes sparkle, cleaning off the rest of her fingers before she entwines her elbow in mine. New York City seems to breathe with our every step, the wind moving, the heat unfurling, and the trees swaying. Taxis and cars whiz by on the avenue, the honking of horns and the laughter of tourists crossing into Central Park filling the air. Everything about New York is alive, even the concrete holds stories it’s waiting to tell.

“Then let’s go down Fifth,” Nina begins, mischief in her tone. “I know a few places.”

“I bet you do,” I flash her a smile, crossing the street so we walk parallel to the park.

We trek down the street, stopping into a macaron shop in the Plaza Hotel to get a bright blue bag full of sweets for us to eat on our journey. Nina and I are bouncing on our heels, excited to have a day to ourselves, away from the Crow Club and the University and being responsible for buying dresses for not only ourselves, but for Inej, Alina, and Zoya, as well.

Kaz had three extra students brought in for this assignment, all a part of the secret network of Crows that don’t sit in regular meetings. First is Alina, who has an international reputation for rebuilding schools and orphanages across the world since she was thirteen, and who has been a Crow since her first step onto campus. She transferred here as a graduate student from some extremely prestigious school in California to complete her PhD and teaching credentials. Every time I have seen Alina, she has been so kind and so helpful, always eager to teach, serve, and build in any way she can. It’s beyond me why she wants to be a part of these operations. Maybe every good girl has a naughty streak.

Zoya, on the other hand, seems like the opposite of Alina. A close friend, confidant, and suspected girlfriend, of another one of Kaz’s network of Crows, Zoya is an overly intelligent, intimidating, and obscenely beautiful law student. Her hair is always smooth, a jet black slate against her back and her eyes are always piercing, judging and observing in their ice blue. Her skin always looks perfectly tanned, a deep brown that makes the pink of her lips more enticing. Her grades are pristine, her ability to argue is unparalleled, and if there were ever a force to be reckoned with, it is her. It’s a lot more obvious to understand why she agreed to join the Crows, for the prestige, the knowledge, the power. But truly puzzling, is her relationship with Nikolai.

Nikolai, or Nik, as I like to call him, is one of the best - and funniest, Crows. Clever, self-deprecating, friendly, handsome, the list goes on. His blonde hair is a shaggy mop of artsy goodness, his skin is creamy, his style completely unmatched and his wealth bottomless. Nik and Kaz are always butting heads; most of the time it’s the only comedic relief the Crow Club has when they’re together. Nik met Zoya during undergrad, in a political science course, where apparently their discussions were lively enough to earn them A’s and lengthy enough to last entire class sessions. Nik has one of those family names that are revered in every elite social circle, making him an obvious addition for Kaz’s team and from what I have gleaned from Nik, he decided to join the Crows to give him something interesting to do besides follow in his father’s footsteps. I wish I wanted to be a Crow out of boredom.

“God,” Nina groans, shoving her phone back into her five thousand dollar purse. “If I get one more message from my parents asking if I’ve heard from that white-haired, rule-following, stick-up-his-ass, Scandinavian inbred, I am going to drown my phone in the Hudson River.”

“Wow,” I clap for her, avoiding the incredulous gapes of tourists at her language. “So many adjectives and I don’t even think you’ve ever said his name.”

A man opens up the glass doors to Bergdorf Goodman’s, where cool air and white marble greet us. Immediately, we drift to the dress racks, combing through all of the latest trends.

“Matthias,” she almost growls. “His letters are so proper, telling me that he has heard of my exemplary womanly skills from my parents. That he would delight to see my drawings and sewing and hear me play the piano. It’s ridiculous. I don’t do any of those things by choice.”

I stifle a laugh. “He seems very… traditional.”

“Seems?” She throws her hands up, shoving a silk dress back onto the rack with too much force. “He is the definition of the word! And worst of all, he’s attractive! He has snow white hair and is built like one of those huge wrestler guys that people watch on TV.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because his complete lack of competence makes him a barbarian! A man who thinks the perfect wife is silent and docile. He’s going to have another thing coming when I show up.”

“He comes from old money in an old country,” I begin, wondering whether I need to tread lightly. “Don’t you think he’s just taught to think that way?”

She sighs, holding up a stunning evergreen gown against her figure. “I know he is. That’s what’s even worse. I know that everyone where he is from has been taught those values. So even if he came to love me, to understand me, no one on the outside would. His station, his reputation, his fortune, all of it is dependent on how I perform. How I reflect him.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I muse, holding out another red silk dress for her.

“Money isn’t fair.”

I blink, surprised at her words. Money is just an object. It has no preference, no deference, no opinions. But I guess the idea of money is more important and tangible than the paper itself. Money has value and expectations beyond the faces staring back at you from the press. It expects manners, it breeds tradition and hierarchy and perfect wives who aren’t allowed to make any. I wonder if Nina will end up bending to those wills, to the one’s she has been raised to. America is such a different place, but I guess money everywhere is the same. It controls you.

“This.”

I turn around, face breaking out into a huge smile at the dress Nina is holding. It is a deep purple, with sheer shoulder sleeves and a deep plunging neckline covered in diamond flowers. The waist is cinched, belted by more glittering gems, before it falls and flows in layers of purple silk and satin to the floor, flowers and vines curling around the skirt. Nina’s hair and eyes and skin would look angelic in the dress. I nod fervently, unable to cap my smile as she waves over an employee to open the dressing room.

While in the dressing rooms, Nina and I talk through the divider.

“Where was Wylan off to earlier?” I ask, taking off my clothes and folding them neatly on the small leather bench. “He never really seems to be around these days.”

“Yeah,” Nina says, with a grunt. “He’s been trying to rekindle his relationship with his father, studying a lot. You know, the usual dysfunctional family stuff.”

I laugh. “My family wasn’t dysfunctional in that way.”

“I would say you were lucky,” Nina begins and I can hear her zipper up as mine does. “But I know you weren’t.”

At the same time, we step out of the dressing room, identical smiles breaking open our faces before we clasp our hands together and squeal with happiness. The dresses look perfect, we look perfect, everything looks perfect.

And now we just have to find dresses for Alina and Zoya.

With these price tags, Kaz is going to regret lending us his credit card.

----

“Something Kaz Brekker doesn’t know how to do,” I tease a few days later,“drive.”

He shoots me a healthy side glare, uncurling his fingers from around the steering wheel. The sun is shining through the left side of the car, illuminating his high cheeks and arched brow bones with dazzling light. If Kaz weren’t so… him, I’m confident he would have made an amazing Calvin Klein model. Especially because his lips are always relaxed in a bit of a natural pout and his resting stance is so relaxed, yet also confident. He is striking.

And he doesn’t belong to me. Nor do I think he ever will.

Despite their claims and attempts to put distance between their relationship, it has become common knowledge in the Crow Club that Kaz and Inej are a package deal. And it doesn’t take a trained Journalism major to read between those lines. It is blindingly obvious in the subtle ways she touches him, the way his gaze softens when he looks at her. She is the ice to his fire, and when needed, he is the same for her. A complimentary pair in every way, even if it seems unlikely on the surface.

“Okay,” I begin, gesturing to the automatic gears between us. I explain what each of the letters stand for, instructing him to move the clutch into reverse and slowly ease up on the brake. With a bit of a jerk, Kaz obeys, turning the wheel to back us out of the spot in the empty parking lot. It had taken a bit of a road trip to find this place outside of the city. I had driven Kaz and myself into New Jersey, where the early morning dawn had just begun to crest, giving our driving lessons an advantage. Kaz had immediately, and somewhat reluctantly, urged me to teach him, claiming we would need it for this assignment. Inej had pushed him along with the conversation, rolling her eyes at how his own pride blocked up his request.

“Now go back into drive,” I say, lurching forward when he does and pushes his foot down too forcefully on the gas pedal. He turns in circles around the empty lot, taking care to avoid the lamp posts. On every straight away, Kaz seems to hit the gas with a little more force, graceful turns giving way to concussion-inducing races. It seems he has the turning part down, but the lurching and jerking of the car would get him pulled over quickly.

And although Kaz will no doubt be having a new fake I.D. made by one of our extra Crows, the risk of involving a police officer is not one any of us want to take.

“Slow down there, Nascar.” I laugh.

He eases up, taking his time to get used to the ebb and flow of the vehicle. Where he got the car is beyond me, but I am also beyond questioning Kaz’s ability to secure random and often, complicated, objects for our heists. He has become my biggest puzzle, my biggest mystery to solve. And if it hasn’t been one hell of an adventure trying to figure him out. Observing him and listening and learning his subtle tells when he is angry or pleased or scheming. Lately, though, it feels as if the obsession for uncovering his truths have blossomed into something else, something that makes my heart race a little faster and my palms sweat. Something I haven’t been able to control. And how I hate not being in control.

“Turn out onto the street,” I instruct, forcing myself to speak and get out of my own head.

He obliges, the car absorbing the bumps in the curb as Kaz makes a graceful right turn. His black gloves glide smoothly along the steering wheel, the sleeve of his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his pale wrist. My mind begins to wander again, to whether or not Inej has touched them, if she has held his wrists down as she gracefully slid on top of him. I wonder if she has kissed him, if he whispers her secrets to her like some sort of sexy spy pillow talk.

“Cataleya,” Kaz is saying, the four syllables of my name like chimes from his mouth.

“Sorry,” I shake my head, swallowing and casting him a glance. “What?”

“Where are we going?” He repeats, monotone and bored.

His driving has already gotten smoother, his feet steady on the brake and gas as I tell him to pull onto the dirt on the side of the two-lane road and turn around. There are still no cars out here at this hour, an Amtrak just beginning its morning route on a station in the distance. I can see the outline of the city beyond the valley, half blocked by trees and tall grass. The skyscrapers are haloed by the rising sun, like a safe haven calling me back home.

“Who taught you to drive?” Kaz says, his raspy voice surprisingly light.

“A friend I had growing up,” I reply, surprised.

“That’s a nice friend,” he comments, voice taking on an edge I don’t understand.

I snort. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have any family to do it.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel ever so slightly and if I weren’t observant I probably would have missed it. The way he tenses up. The way his jaw clenches and the car begins to move a bit faster as his foot locks onto the gas. “Me either.”

“I found my mother dead.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. Kaz’s gaze shifts a bit, but he keeps his focus on the road as I continue. “I went to bury a dead cat in my mother’s old garden. We never touched it, my father never tended to it, or let me, after he said she left us. But when I went out to the garden and began to dig, I lost track of time, I dug far deeper than I intended. My father wasn’t home, I wanted to be there, in that garden, and away from him if he came home, for as long as possible. I didn’t realize how far I had dug until,” I swallow, inhaling and turning to Kaz. “Until a hand began to form beneath the dirt, and then an arm, and I saw the wedding ring, the bruises, the blue of her dress…”

Kaz’s lips part, the only admission of emotion he gives.

“The coroner said she had been dead for four months. Four months,” my voice broke, splintered on the fragments of my memories. “That she had been beaten and buried there. They couldn’t… couldn’t prove it was my father. He had money, lots of it. And he paid a lot of people to keep quiet.”

“Is that why you love journalism?” Kaz asks, slowing the car to ready his turn back into the empty lot. “Exposing them? Making them pay with more than their blood money and with plain blood?”

I inhale, lips curling back in more of a snarl than a smile. “Everyone I knew. Everyone I knew who was involved. I have made them pay. In some form.” I throw Kaz a true smile, a devilish gleam in my eyes. “Although I suppose you already know that. It’s why Inej noticed me in the first place.”

“One of the many reasons,” Kaz replies, words back to being clipped, tight.

With a smooth arc of the steering wheel, Kaz turns the car into the same spot as before, hitting a little too hard on the brake before coming to a stop. My hair moves in front of my face at the jolt, a blessed curtain separating me from him. I can feel him thinking, churning over my words, assessing me.

Kaz hardly seems fazed as I peek at him around my hair. His dark eyes are far away, his gloved hands slack on the wheel. I still myself, hearing the purr of the car engine, hearing Kaz’s breathing, shallow and uneven, as he goes into the place he so rarely dives. His eyes are almost glazed, like he’s been drinking, completely lost in his own thoughts. I know some of his story already. From Nina. From Jesper. From my research.

“Your brother,” I murmur, soft and low.

His hands tighten on the wheel until they are bone white, staring straight ahead at the tree lined landscape. “Jordie,” he pushes through his teeth. “His name was Jordie.”

My spine straightens. Kaz has never said anything about his brother, and has never allowed any of the Crows besides Inej into his life in this way. And I wonder how far he has even let her in. I swallow, questioning if I should press or let it be. I am just about to get out and switch places with him to take us back into the city, when he opens his mouth and to my bewilderment, continues to speak.

“My parents were mixed up in some bad stuff before we came here. We lived in the countryside, with a bit of land and no one around us for miles. My brother was older than me, only by four years, but enough to know how to keep me from looking where I shouldn’t. From keeping me happy and sheltered.” A muscle flickers in Kaz’s jaw, his pale skin going ashier with each word, “I didn’t know what was happening when they came. The thugs my parents had been hopping between towns, cities, and states to avoid for over a decade. Jordie took me, the remaining cash from the safe, that my father had stolen, and fled to New York City. He hoped we would be invisible among so many people.”

I don’t know I am holding my breath until I release it, low and shaky. Kaz is silent again, staring off, flexing and unflexing his fingers against the steering wheel, like a silent reminder that he is here.

“Are they alive?” I ask, voice so silent it’s almost nothing.

“I don’t know,” Kaz admits. “But we never heard from them. I’ve never heard. So I can only assume not. And I don’t think I would want to see them if they were.”

“And Jordie…?” I venture, terrified to hear more, but also terrified he’ll clam up. I am desperate for more. Desperate to know him.

“We weren’t safe here. They found us. Or, found Jordie. While I was gone.” Every single syllable from his lips are forced and painful, laced with self loathing and regret. Survivor's guilt. “I was supposed to be there, but Jordie had sent me away. On an errand down in Brooklyn. He knew we were trapped, and wanted me to live, if he couldn’t. If Jordie could convince them he was alone and I had been shipped somewhere else... ” He breathes in and out, slowly and deeply, focusing on some point in the distance. “They ruled it as a suicide. He had cut his own throat, only his DNA on the knife, only his blood… I don’t know if he did it before they came. Or if they staged it. The not knowing. The guessing. That’s what makes it worse.”

“So you look for control in other places.” I say. “In the market. In investment. In the Crows. I do the same thing.”

“The Crows stand for the same thing you do, Cataleya.” Kaz says, looking at me with an intense stare. “Exposure. We want things to be different. We want people to pay, truly pay, for what they have done. Instead of buying silence. Buying lies. We want the truth. Only the truth.”

His words pierce me, his black hair stark against his forehead, shaved sides longer than he normally keeps them. His eyebrows are set in a hard determined line, lips closed, and jaw locked in determination. I know he made those people pay, the ones who took his brother from him. I can see it on his face.

“How did you survive?” I begin, “without him?”

Kaz licked his lips and let out a low chuckle. “Our money was gone. But we knew some people. Kids we met on the street. They made me a fake to get into bars with; I was barely sixteen by that time, but I looked older. Rougher. I had a skill for counting cards and made a small fortune quickly by playing in run down joints and eventually, working my way into larger, more expensive establishments. It was hard, I lived and breathed revenge, for Jordie. I wanted to have him back. To have something that was mine. I built up a small fortune, studied the market, and began investing. By the time I applied to the University of Ketterdam it didn’t matter that I only had my GED and no family, my self-made fortune was enough.”

“But why here?” I ask, furrowing my brows in confusion. “Why school at all?”

Kaz continues to look at me, eyes blazing. “Because we had a dream. Jordie and I. We had a dream that we would never forget what happened. That we had to run. And that when we were older, more settled, we would build something here. In New York City, something that would last. Something with a legacy. Like Crows, Jordie had said, symbolizing death but themselves being alive. We were dealt bad luck and would bestow it on others who deserve it.”

“Thus, The Crow Club,” I finish his sentence, gaze roaming his face. “A secret society at one of the world’s best universities that would have a legacy. Have prestige. Have a family.”

“Something that is mine,” Kaz’s lips part, wet from his tongue.

“Yes, yours.” I echo.

We are both silent for a few moments. Weighing our words. Our truths. Even the trees outside seem to stop in the wind, leaves quiet and branches unwavering. Kaz has opened up in a way I have never seen before. Never expected. He has been through so much. So much like me. Dealt with death. Loss. Life. We aren’t so different. None of the Crows are.

“What about the others?”

“Those aren’t my stories to tell,” Kaz responds, voice returning to its detached state.

I nod, once, accepting. I know a few of them already. Nina. Wylan. The new recruits. But Inej and Jesper are mysteries. Complete and whole geniuses shrouded in questions. I don’t like questions. Especially ones I can’t answer.

“How did you survive? With him?” Kaz’s voice rings again, reflecting my earlier question. His words are too big for the small car, inhaling deeply through my nose as a small smile graces my lips. His long fingers move the shift into reverse to back out of the spot to drive us back to the city himself. The true test of his skill on the Manhattan streets.

“That friend. The one who taught me how to drive,” I reply, a bit of wistful nostalgia filling my tone. “He helped me. Took care of me. Looked after me.”

“Past tense?” He inquires, feet smooth as he presses on the gas pedal.

“We are still friends,” I say. “I think. Things are just… different.”

“Different. That’s an understatement.” He replies, voice drenched with irony. “Everything is different, isn’t it, depending on how you look at it.”

I nod and laugh, giving him a compliment on how swiftly he picked up driving before we settle into a comfortable silence. Crows. Allies. Friends. If we can call ourselves that.

I hope we can.

----

Today, I am supposed to meet the enemy.

Kaz told me yesterday he set up a rendezvous at one of the campus coffee spots and that there would be someone waiting for me there. Someone he wouldn’t name. Someone that I am supposed to gather information from. Someone who thinks we are on a date.

I had almost hit him when he pulled up his phone to show me the fake dating profile that was made for me. Pictures of me smiling, laughing, most of them pictures I didn’t even remember taking, all glowed brightly at me, accentuated by a bio that said I liked my men tall, dark, and tortured.

How cliche.

“Nina made it,” Kaz had shrugged then returned his phone back to his pocket.

“And you would be surprised by how many matches you made,” Inej’s voice was laced with humor, lilting into the room without a trace.

“She’ll walk you over,” Kaz said, gesturing around the room to her unknown location. “Like any dutiful girl would for her best friend about to go on a date from an app. Then, you’ll just need to proceed as normal. Ask him about his life, his job, his degree, his connection to UOK. All the basics. The main concern is reading him out for a vibe, his family has had a lot of influence in some shady shit and he’s from another society here.”

So that’s what this was about? Some sour deals that probably put Kaz out of some easy money and a rival society that was challenging Kaz’s position in the control of campus secrets and his standing legacy? I don’t feel like that is the whole story, but that’s all that Kaz was willing to give me at the time.

And he hadn’t said anything this afternoon when I had gone into the Crow Library to meet Inej. He acted like nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t revealed some of his darkest secrets to me. Like we hadn’t shared a moment of… something. He barely looked at me from his desk, hair rumpled and face flushed from stress, in my tight long sleeve dress and tights, combat boots laced up around my ankles in case this random guy got the wrong idea.

The air outside had turned to autumn, giving us an unusually cold and windy day. I was puttering around and trying to think of something to say to Kaz, when Inej came down the staircase with silent feet, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a cream knit sweater. Her hair had been mused in the back and her face also looked a bit red. I had almost laughed, looking between her flushed state and Kaz’s slightly red cheeks, before giving Inej a knowing quirk of my eyebrows.

And now, outside of the library and alone, walking across the cobblestoned campus paths with autumn leaves falling around us, I turn to her. “Do I even want to know?”

“It’s college,” she replies, so quiet it’s almost to herself. “Things happen.”

“Things don’t just happen with Kaz Brekker.”

She looks at me, face breaking out into a blinding smile that splits her beautifully baked face. “They do when he’s in a rather… compromising position.”

“Inej!” I release the laugh I’ve been holding, the now pulled back coil of her hair showing off the reddened tips of her ears. Since I have known of Inej, she has always been rather modest. Sure of herself in a quiet way. The kind of confidence that doesn’t need reassurance or shields. Inej herself is a shield, a force of silent secrets she keeps hidden beneath the unsuspecting lithe of her dancer’s frame.

We take a right turn down one of the main campus paths, small walkways opening up into a large courtyard. Students mill about, sitting on statues, kissing underneath the garden archways, reading books on their way into classes. The University of Ketterdam has always been such an eclectic place, not only because of its location in New York City, but because of its campus. Lush, green, beautiful. An ode to history and architecture and modernity all the same. The programs here are some of the best in the world and while tuition isn’t cheap, the value of a Ketterdam degree is worth it.

“Is it bad that I kind of do want to know though?” I begin, not even sure what I’m saying.

“No,” Inej says, voice thoughtful and not defensive in any way. This is why I love Inej. So honest and unafraid. “I think everyone wants to know about Kaz. Everyone wants to be the hero that solves the mystery or the lover that turns a prince from darkness.” She pauses, looking around at the students, seeming lost in thought. Her dark eyebrows crease together, as if in thought or sadness. “Some people just can’t be saved.”

I can tell she’s referring to Kaz. But I’m not sure if I agree. I think everyone can be saved. I think darkness lives in everyone and all a person needs is a bit of light to show them through. People weren’t born into darkness, or evil, they were made that way. Through that, they could be unmade. And Inej has enough light and strength in one of her hands to see any person through the blackest of tunnels. I think of what Kaz had said to me, in the car, about his story, about his desire for revenge. For retribution. Maybe I want to believe we can be saved from the darkness because I want to be saved. Because like calls to like. And there is a deep chasm within Kaz that sings to me.

Inej moves her head to look at me, a full and unabashed gaze that somehow makes me uncomfortable. Like she can see straight to my soul. Like she can see every lie I have told or every promise I have broken or every secret I have kept. Like she can see my desires and my shame and my longing for things I can’t have.

“But we love them anyway, don’t we?” She finishes, giving me a contemplative look.

I think of the people I love, the people I did love, when there were still people in my life that were capable of receiving such a thing; people who were dark and painful and I still loved them anyway. Love can be such a blinding thing. Blinding and binding.

“Yeah,” I echo, her reflective tone rubbing off onto my voice. “We do.”

The both of us descend into silence as we continue to walk across the quad. I begin to feel my stomach turn, my palms sweat. No matter how many times I have done this, not dates, but encounter new people, this feeling returns. Every time I have to meet someone new, report on something, present something for a class, I would feel anxiety grip my insides and twist. When I was younger, that anxiety was terrifying, it made me cower, it made me scared. But as I got older, I began to use it and cling to it. I began to form it into an entity that gave me courage instead of taking it, something that would ground me to myself and propel me into my fears.

Inej begins, “Kaz texted and said he’s outside. Reading. Good luck.” Then she’s gone.

Steadying my breath, the smell of coffee hits my nostrils as I round the library steps to the small path beside it. The coffee shop is nestled into the side of the huge, brick building, almost like a tumor sprouting from the side. Inej has completely disappeared, only leaving the familiar scent of herbs in her wake. She is supposed to be going up the library steps to find a good vantage point from one of the many windows facing the coffee shop on the building’s side. Students move around through the cafe windows, in and out of the doors, little bell ringing to signal both arrival and departure.

But I am not paying attention to any of them.

Because there is a boy. A man. Sitting at one of the tables outside, his long legs stretched underneath the opposite chair, wearing a pair of leather sneakers. His long fingers are thumbing through a novel, covers worn and pages yellow with age. He can feel someone there, looking, sitting up and turning in that little metal chair to see who. To see me.

It’s Alek.

I blanch, mouth going dry and jaw slackening. I know him. I more than know him. I-

“Cataleya,” his voice is pure night, laced and dripping with stars. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, not even phased. Not that I have ever seen him look surprised. I flash back to that day in the garden, to his hands on my face, wiping my tears, to his arms around me, murmuring condolences, to the face that I could see through my blurred tears. Dark hair, pale skin, beautifully big gray eyes. I had barely known him, barely seen him despite our houses being right next door, despite our windows being on opposite sides of the alley and me being able to spy on him when his curtains were parted at night.

“Aleksander?” I stand a little straighter, gathering my shock and shoving it deep down.

He smiles, standing up from the chair on the patio of the coffee shop. He is so tall, taller than I remember. His dark jeans are fitted against his legs and the black long sleeve button down he is wearing shows off a large portion of his impeccable chest. I don’t remember when the last time I saw him was, but I definitely don’t recall feeling the pulsing and intense heat that flashes through my body when I look at him. I suddenly feel naked. And stupid.

Is Kaz trying to kill me?

Swallowing thickly, I scan the windows on the side of the library for Inej, wondering if she has already found a perch to play spy. The sun reflects off of each glass surface in the afternoon light, making it impossible to see through any of them. Blowing a breath through my lips, I attempt to quell the storm brewing and churning in my stomach.

“What a wonderful surprise this is,” Alek starts.

I catch the edge in his voice, the way the tone lilts at the end. A tell of how much this encounter is not a surprise. For him anyway. But I smile, I nod and I watch as he fluidly closes the distance between us and takes me in his arms.

I hate how I exhale.

How my whole body relaxes.

I hate how good it feels.

Like coming home.

He smells like winter and barren tree branches, like snow and absence of light. Like a dark night wrapping me in its embrace and taking away the pain that days bring. Peaceful and mysterious all the same. Just as I remember it. Just as I remember him.

“Since when did you start wearing all black?” I joke as he pulls away, gesturing to his outfit. “Are you some kind of darkling now?”

He gives me a blinding grin, chuckling under his breath.

“Something like that.”

He gestures us back over to the table and I sit across from him, back rigid and legs crossed. I feel like a mannequin, still and stoic, despite the intense pounding of my heart and rush of blood through my veins.

“How have you been?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with an amused look on his face. “I must say I was very surprised when your profile popped up Tinder.”

I clench my jaw, working my teeth against each other. “Yeah, so was I.”

Tilting his head to the side, Alek studies me, eyes unabashedly roaming from my face to my chest to my waist, to my legs visible on the side of the table. I swallow, trying to clear the unfamiliar lump in my throat before I speak.

“But I’m good. Great, even. But I didn’t even know you are here. That you went here in the first place.”

“It’s a temporary thing,” Alek responds.

“Temporary?” I push.

“I’m just getting a business credential for the semester,” he says, airy and dismissive.

I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he can feel the suspicion and annoyance radiating from my look. He drums his fingers on the table, weighing my stare with a measured, even gaze that infuriates me further. I always hated when he did this when we were kids. Always challenging me. Always trying to get me to back down. Luckily, our time apart has sharpened my detective skills and my comfort with confrontation.

Alek sighs, blinking slowly. “Fine. I’m here because of you.”

My jaw slackens.

Because of me?

“I missed you,” he whispers, in a rare display of vulnerability and affection, before reaching across the table to take my hand.

Fire lashes up my wrist and arm, chills spreading in its wake. His touch is electrifying me, his skin like a hot branding iron pushing into me with delicious pain. Alek’s jaw is set, the hard lines on his chin lined with stubble. I want to take his face in my hands and kiss him. I want to feel him against me and get lost in the impossibly deep gray ocean of his eyes.

“Where were you then?” I venture, pushing down the pressing anxiety.

“I had a lot to deal with after my dad died,” he responds, voice detached and noncommittal. “I’m really sorry I let our relationship fall away, but I didn’t want to drag you down into my grief. You’ve always had enough on your plate.”

“You helped me through grief.” My tone steadies. “I wanted to help you.”

He huffs, “I didn’t want your help.”

The words are like a slap in the face, pulling my hand from his with a start. His dad’s death had been very abrupt and unexpected, launching Alek into a world of unknown wealth and property and an accumulation of other assets he wasn’t even aware his father had. His death was ruled under suspicious circumstances, but no leads were ever found for a murderer or any other sort of foul play. And with Alek’s mother long gone to cancer, he found himself newly eighteen and alone in the world. Except he wasn’t alone. He always had me.

Alek releases a breath, eyes softening as he leans back in his chair, aware of the mistake in his harsh words. He pushes a hand through his hair, the dark waves parting for his hand like a saint in the sea.

“I don’t mean it like that. I wanted you to be there, Cataleya. But some things you have to do on your own, you know? I had so much to figure out and sort through and… it was overwhelming.”

I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Alek was never the kind of guy to ask for help, especially not from people he is close to. He always did things alone, always felt weak for not building his own empire, his own legacy, his own destiny, without anyone else. But two years, I haven’t heard from him in two years and now here he is. In front of me. Asking for some sort of forgiveness. Is there anything to forgive? The pit in my stomach says yes. But my throbbing heart and other throbbing parts of me say no.

“I missed you, too.”

A small smile blossoms across his face, the sight beautiful and stupefying.

“I can’t help but notice you walked here with Inej Ghafa,” he starts and my alert senses begin to tingle. “Isn’t she a part of Kaz Brekker’s Crow Club?”

“How do you know about that?” I ask before I can help myself.

“Anyone who is anyone knows about Kaz,” he responds, almost spitting his name.

“Okay…” I begin, unease settling into my stomach like a stone. “But why do you?”

“He has something I need.”

The stone becomes a boulder.

“Are you-” I stop, then start again. “You’re the one that this is for.”

“If by “this”, you mean whatever scheme he is planning to trap me in, then yes.”

“But why? How do you even know him? Don’t you know who he is and what he does? What are you thinking going against Kaz?” I ask urgently, struggling to keep my voice low.

He pins me to the chair with a dead look. “He has debts he needs to pay.”

“You’re going vague again?” I shake my head, irritated with his bipolar intensity then flippancy. “You need to back down. Or you’re going to end up hurt.”

A smirk tugs at his full lips, “Your lack of faith in me is really inspiring, Cataleya.”

“It’s not that,” I retort, exasperated, crossing my arms. “Kaz is really powerful. With more networks and connections than you know. If you don’t stop whatever crusade you have on him, you’re the one that’s going to end up indebted.”

He laughs this time, a full and deep laugh that surprises me. “Has he really dug his talons that deep in you? That you’ve forgotten how wide my own connections spread? How cunning I can be?”

“We haven’t spoken in two years,” I respond, pettily. “I don’t know you at all anymore.”

He leans forward, eyes incredibly dark and face serious. “You know that’s not true.”

I hold his stare, raising my eyebrows, feeling satisfied that I made my point. Alek reaches across the table and places his palm up on it in invitation. I can see the veins of his inner wrist, with dark ink snaking across the blue and disappearing under his shirt sleeve. He didn’t have any tattoos when I last talked to him. My fingers itch to push back the fabric and see them. His secrets. Like Kaz’s, they are so plain on his skin yet hidden through metaphors and signs.

Licking my lips, I push out a breath and put my hand atop his, feeling his eyes follow mine to where the ink is displayed. Without saying anything, he pushes the sleeve of his shirt up his forearm, stopping at the inner crook of his elbow.

Inhaling and holding, I blink at the constellation on the inside of his forearm. A night sky, swirling with black and dead space, with creatures in between zombies and ghosts with huge demon wings flying through it. There is a ship at the base of his wrist, a small stern gliding through dark sand, a tiny speck compared to the massive size of the creatures flying above it. It is dark and torturing and incredibly impassioned. I let the pads of my fingers drift softly up Alek’s arm, watching goosebumps form on his skin.

“What are they?” I ask.

“They’re called volcra,” Alek says. “Beings that live in darkness and are afraid of light. They feed on those who come into their path, who are unable to see or defend themselves in the black sea of sand.”

“It’s so… intense.” I search for the right word to describe it, coming up short.

“I want to remind myself to not be afraid of light. Of happiness. That the things that I may think make me weak, really make me strong. I need to find more light, to find my light. I have been full of darkness for a long time, Cataelya. I’ve lived in a thousand moments of it.”

I tilt my head, fingers pressed into the inside of his elbow and looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes are trained to the spot where our skin is meeting, his lips parted and eyebrows furrowed a bit in the middle. I resist the urge to flatten it with my thumb, letting the wind and the sound of other students fill the silence between us.

“You were the only light in my life for a long time,” I say to him, tracing the volcra’s deformed bodies with my index finger. “I had nothing. I had no one. You pulled me from that nothingness. From the darkness. And held me in your arms. Brought me up to somewhere better. Where I can hope. Where I can not only see light, but make my own. That is invaluable to me.”

He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Can you help me, then? Can you bring me back my light, too?”

My breathing stalls. I know what he’s asking from me. I know it’s more than just offering a flashlight through the tunnel. I know it’s more complicated than I can currently imagine. Alek stands up, coming around the table to kneel in front of my chair. Some students stare, wondering if they’re about to witness a proposal. I ignore them, keeping my eyes trained on Alek’s imploring gaze. I know in this moment, I will give him the world, the moon, and all of its stars. I will give him all of my sun and then some, I will summon everything I have to fill the darkest parts of him.

He takes my face in his hands, palms impossibly soft on my cheeks. Subtly, slowly, I nod, watching his face break a part into a smile. Without pausing, Alek leans forward and kisses me. His lips are smooth and plush, completely stunning me into inaction as he runs his fingers along the sides of my throat. I sigh into his mouth, body realizing what is happening just as he is pulling away. Parting my lips, I stupidly sit in my chair as he gets up in one flowing movement.

Alek looks down at me with a smile. “I hope to see you soon then, Cataleya.”

Just like that, he scoops up his book and walks away. Gone as quickly as he appeared.

----

The room is completely aglow with light, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candles lit around the room. Everything has a soft, burnt hue, like the room is on fire from below and the blaze is lighting the space. It must be the size of the University of Ketterdam quad, with hundreds of people talking, dancing, eating, and drinking. I recognize some students and faculty, but most are a blur of unfamiliar gowns and tuxedos.

“They know how to throw a party,” Nik says appreciatively.

“If they didn’t, no one would take them seriously.” Zoya retorts, leaving Nik’s side without so much as a glance to drift into the crowd. The smell of honey and sweet drinks spreads through the room, long tables lining either wall stacked with a massive spread.

“That’s where I’ll be,” whispers Nina.

I smile at her, gathering my dress in my hands and descending the few flat stairs to the main rooms. The floor is a beautiful tile, mosaics and colors that I can’t decipher flowing from the entry way beneath the mass of bodies. There is something magical about it all, something historic, like stepping into a time machine. The walls are lined with thick tapestries, with small halls leading into different areas of grandeur. I shouldn’t be surprised that wealth like this still exists, but every time I see it, I am.

Scanning the space, I see Alek from across the ballroom, near one of the food tables, his gaze drifting across my body before a smile forms on his lips. He is wearing an all black suit, lapels crisp and smooth, with a single blood rose pinned above his heart. It mimics the read of my dress, the stain of my lips, the seduction in his eyes. He cocks his head slightly, dark hair falling over one of his beautifully arched eyebrows.

I hold his stare, letting the bubbling pit of fire burn deeply in my stomach. The pit that forms when he looks at me, seated low and hot. The pit that would cackle and seethe if he would touch me, if his pale hands would settle on my hips and his lips would touch the shell of my ear, whispering sweet nothings and dirty everythings into my ear. Snaking my tongue between my lips, I watch as Aleksander tracks the motion, his posture straightening ever so slightly.

And then Kaz is there. In my line of vision.

The fire sputters out, replaced by something else. Something that grips my lungs and forces my heart to beat faster. His suit is a deep navy, bringing out the smooth pearl of his skin and accenting the night of his hair. He looks like a shooting star, dark and light at the same time. I wonder who picked it out for him, or if he selected it himself. I can’t imagine Kaz in a tailor’s shop, trying on suits and drinking bourbon with the upper elites with him.

But then again, maybe I can. He is a business man after all. And great at faking it.

Kaz catches my stare, tipping his head up in greeting before disappearing into the crowd. Nina and Nik dissolve from my side as well, going to observe and mingle before the drama begins. Alina is the only one left next to me, her golden dress sparkling in the chandelier light. She turns to me and sets her hand on my arm gingerly, sun earrings dangling from her ears.

“Be careful,” she whispers. “He’s not who you think he is.”

I open my mouth, about to ask her what she means before her hand is gone, and so is she. I watch her move into a group of people, hugging a man in a dark gray tuxedo from behind before giving him a kiss. Must be Mal. I don’t feel right, especially after what Alina said to me. I feel like something is amiss, but I don’t know what.

I spot Kaz again, whispering something to Inej along the back wall. Her dark eyes drift to me, cementing the feeling in place.

Alone, I cross the space to Alek. I had seen him twice since our fateful coffee date and both times had been very formal and full of business. Full of me trying to help him get his light back. Through some sort of grand scheme, it seems. One that required me to also recruit Nik, Alina, and Zoya to help Alek while seeming like they are helping Kaz. Sort of like a double agent, except I don’t know which side I want to be standing on at the end.

“How are you?” Alek asks, tone casual to an untrained ear, but clipped enough for me to hear the true question behind his words.

“Something’s wrong,” I respond under my breath before I loudly declare my happiness.

He lets his gaze linger on my face for a moment, schooling his features into neutrality.

“Can you handle it?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, dropping my fake smile. “I might need help.”

Vague enough, but he clearly gets the message, rolling his shoulders before giving me a dazzling grin. Alek reaches a long arm to stop the waiter passing by, grabbing two flutes of sparkling gold champagne and extending one to me. As if this is only our second time meeting. As if we both happened here by incident and he is looking to get lucky.

“I could never refuse such a beautiful woman.”

I return his smile, throwing back the entire drink for some liquid courage. It tastes sweet and fizzy against my tongue, a faint acidity coating the roof of my mouth. Alek takes a long and thoughtful sip of his own champagne, much more graceful than me and folds my arm into the crook of his elbow. He begins to lead me from the ballroom, towards the Crow’s meeting spot. I look behind my shoulder, searching for their familiar faces. But all I see is Nina, already watching, her eyes focused intently on the joining of my arm with Alek’s while she pretends to listen to Nik, whose lips are moving with passionate fervor. Her mouth parts ever so slightly as she catches my eye.

“Careful,” Alek mutters, forcing me to turn my head back in front of me.

Dread and fear coil in my gut. I have never seen Nina look that way. I have never seen her look at me and not see me. I still don’t spot any of the other Crows at their reported positions around the room, where they were supposed to stay until I could get Alek alone and before I could lead Kaz to Alek and they could duel it out and I could decide who to side with then.

I swallow, mind racing, trying to calm myself by believing that there’s a reason for their absence.

Alek seems to sense my trepidation, holding my arm a bit tighter as we meander from the crowded room into a near empty hallway.

“Something’s wrong,” I repeat, trying to unravel everything quickly. Too quickly.

Kaz, pushing everyone into this heist with such force. The others, more quiet than usual, less pressing for Kaz to give them details. Kaz, letting me teach him to drive, letting himself be vulnerable for me. Inej, barely talking to me a week into our plan. Nina, completely open and honest and warm until she saw me with Alek. Jesper, less happy than usual, less enthusiastic, more solemn and quiet, often excusing himself when I came into the room. And Wylan, always seeming to be off rekindling his relationship with his father.

I didn’t need to help them with appearances at all.

When fear arrives, something is about to happen.

“It’s a trap,” I breathe, clenching my jaw and letting my stomach pit out inside of me.

“I know,” Alek replies, cool and distant.

My blood turns to ice. “What do you mean, “I know”?”

He doesn’t respond, turning right down the hallway that leads to a back patio exit, and not to the left, to that private seating area where the Crows were supposed to be waiting. Alek increases his pace ever so slightly, giving me a glazed and lusted look when people come out of the rooms to pass us by, too high or drunk or exhausted to care.

I try to stamp down the panic in my bones. How could I be so stupid? How could I get so caught up playing both sides that I didn’t see what was right in front of me? This is not the part where things are supposed to go wrong. I am supposed to get to choose. I am supposed to see them interact, gauge my feelings, myself, my words, and decide which side I want to be on. If I want to be a Raven or a Crow. If I want to be crime or creation. Of course, Alek is one step ahead. And so is Kaz.

“We need to be more casual, less uptight,” Alek states as he pushes through the glass doors leading into the large mansion courtyard at the end of the corridor. “If any of them are watching, they’ll hurry things along if they sense we’re onto them.”

“I think they already know,” I swallow, the night air turning cold and bitter. We hover on the cramped patio for a moment, not descending the small set of stone stairs into the gardens beyond. I can hear voices from inside, music drifting about, people laughing and heavy breathing from behind bushes. I wish I could have gone to this party with no other intentions than for fun.

Maybe in a different life.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Alek shrugs.

And then I am up against the thin black railing behind me, Alek’s hands settling into the curve of my hips. I can feel his warmth through the satin of my dress, bleeding fire into my skin, my heart, my core. He licks his lips and pushes me tighter against him. Our bodies are flush in all of the right places; hard and soft in all of the right places.

“Kiss me, Cataleya,” he baits me, voice low and raspy.

He doesn’t have to say it twice.

I surge forward, his lips plush and velvet against mine. He smells like winter, like snow and frosty tree branches and endless starry nights. I grew up with this smell, revelled in it, fell in love with it. His dark hair brushes against my forehead, the strands so soft and gentle in a way I had never known Alek to be. He is always pushing, moving, plotting.

He reminds me of Kaz in that way.

Kaz.

Alek’s tongue slips along mine, sparks flying and thundering in my ears. Haven’t I wanted him like this for so long? Haven’t I imagined what this would feel like since our first kiss, being barely a peck? Haven’t I dreamed that he would want me? That he would have me in the way I desired?

So why is this falling so flat now?

Kaz.

The voice reverberates through me, like a Crow picking from a dead body, peeling flesh from bone until I am stripped bare. My head begins to pound, a dull ache in the base of my skull. Alek runs his fingers up my bare arms, drawing goosebumps in his wake until I am shivering beneath him.

“Cataleya,” he murmurs, deep and throaty.

The old feeling returns, the burning desire, the expectant eyes. The little girl waiting for her master to approve. The little girl waiting for someone bigger, someone better, to grab her hand and drag her from the dirt. I feel ridiculous for not being able to squash it down, to tamper it. I don’t know if that feeling would ever die. The feeling of dependence. Of unworthiness.

Alek seems as if he’s about to say something, but his head whips to the side. I follow the movement, the stone of dread in my stomach sinking deeper when I realize the courtyard has gone quiet around us. Not a single sound from behind the bushes, not a giggle or a whisper or a moan. Too quiet. The sound of death.

The headache threatens to split my brain a part, eyes blurring as I watch Alek attempt to stumble down the stairs. He gets one step in before a figure blocks his path. My breathing becomes laborious, squinting through black spots clouding my vision before I can see who it is.

Wylan.

His suit is a forest green, dark velvet tailored for his tall lanky frame. The color perfectly offsets the ruddiness of his hair and his shoes are a deep brown leather, squeaky clean and new. Leave it to Kaz to outfit all of the Crows with his endless bank account.

“I’m sorry,” Wylan says, face truly betraying some measure of regret.

The pieces click together, like a lock sliding into place.

He hasn’t been working with his father all these weeks. He has been working on something else entirely. Something that would take lots of time, lots of care, and lots of studying. When Nina said those things I thought she was talking about how he was mending the relationship with his father. She was not. And not just that, but his studies most likely required more than himself for success. Probably Leoni, the incredibly kind and intelligent biochemical engineering major who Kaz sometimes recruited for special missions that required more stealth, less blood.

Wylan was studying poison.

And we had ingested it from the champagne.

----

My head is throbbing when I come to, the sound of a car engine roaring in my ears. I don’t know how I got here. All I remember is Alek, his hands on me, his warmth leaving me to spin me into the arms of someone else. The shaved hair, the deep brown eyes, the palor of his skin, the stability of his grip around my waist. Then Alek again, his lips on mine, my back against the wall.

I force myself to swallow, trying to see anything through the blindfold at my eyes. I am still in my dress, the silk smooth on my skin, and I can feel the car coming to a stop as I struggle to find the strength to say something.

My bones feel like liquid, muscles weak and shaking. But Alek had been the only one who offered me a drink, he had been the only one I trusted enough to gulp heartily. Wylan. I remember Wylan. Standing at the ledge of the stairs in the courtyard. Me and Alek.

Poisoned.

The car’s back door opens and I feel a rush of the cold night air as two gloved hands drag me by my feet from the vehicle and out onto the street. Dread coils in my stomach and my skin pricks with goosebumps, the cobble stones ripping at my exposed ankles and arms. After being dragged a few hundred feet, hissing at the burn of scapes and tearing on my skin from the uneven street, I am forced onto my knees. I don’t feel right. Nothing feels right. Where is Kaz?

As if in answer, the blindfold is yanked down my face from behind, my eyes blurring and struggling to adjust to the dark light of my surroundings. I am in an alley, wedged between two buildings built of collapsing brick. I can hear the faint whiz of cars, but in front of me is only a few hundred paces of the alleyway and then trees. I am not being brought here to talk. It’s too secluded. Too quiet. And the smell, bark and sap and something else… I clench my jaw.

A shadow fills my periphery and I struggle to stay up on my knees as a figure takes shape in front of me. The navy suit, clean white shirt, the black leather gloves, the hard lines of his jaw and set of his eyes. I know why I am here. I know what this is. His stare is furious, rage and ice and merciless vengeful eyes boring into mine.

He made the choice for me.

“Kaz,” I rasp, voice cracking and broken.

He snarls at his name from my mouth, shoving me up into the nearest building. I stumble in my heels, his movements fast and forceful enough to drive my back into the wall with no problem. The rough edges of the brick dig into my back, clawing at my skin. This is nowhere near the last experience I had against a wall, with Alek. Caressing me, kissing me, igniting me. I try to stay calm. I try to think. But all I can see is Kaz’s face in front of me, burning with hatred and disdain as he rams me harder into the unforgiving bricks.

I try to hold in my scream as a knife plunges into my side from one of the roofs above, deep and intense pain bursting through me. I don’t know who threw it, I don’t know how many of them are up there and how many stayed behind. I don’t know how long they’ve been in on it, I don’t know if Kaz has been aware the entire time. But I do know that now he knows, they all do. And that I won’t be leaving here alive.

I can’t move enough to take the knife from my side, the hilt small, but the blade curved and lodged deep above the bone of my hip. Blood seeps through my dress, the red becoming impossibly darker, and the drip drip of the liquid pings against the stone street as it runs down my legs. It’s the only sound between us besides my ragged breathing, pained and desperate.

“This was all a test of loyalty,” he says evenly. “You failed.”

And I would die for it.

Kaz’s hands close around my throat, gaze steely and intent. I try not to panic, my jaw locking and lungs constricting with the pressure of his grip. The warmth of the blood continues spreading and soaking through my side, red and sticky and filling my nostrils with the scent of copper. I can already barely breathe, trying and failing to make it through the pain. It makes sense how loose Kaz’s lips had been with me, all the questions he had asked to try and taunt me, to reveal my relationship to Alek, how he let me teach him; he thought I would be a dead woman soon. And dead women don’t spill secrets. Or give lessons beyond the grave.

“We knew it was you all along,” Kaz says in my face, tone even as he chokes me. “Funny. You didn’t even know he was here until we flushed him out for you. Until we set up that date and watched you become the person we suspected you were. Until you crawled back to him and pretended he was the only light in the pit of darkness that’s been your life.” Kaz’s gloved fingers are hot against my pulse and his hair is falling down his forehead, sides freshly shaved. I can see every prick of stubble along his chin, see the muscles feathering in his jaw. I’ve never been this close to him before. Not even in the car. A day that felt so long ago. Like a lifetime.

“Don’t you know why we scouted you in the first place? We knew he would try to ruin us from the inside out and use you to do it, it was only a matter of time. But that game can be played by both sides.” His voice is low, a snarl that roars in my ears, my side throbbing. “Nikolai, Alina, Zoya… you thought that you were bringing in new recruits to then turn against us. We had them first. They were always Crows, not one of Aleksander Morosova’s ravens. They have even more of a reason to want revenge on him than I do. And I’ll bet they’re being even less pleasant with him than I am with you right now.”

A pit burns inside of me, low and feral, deepening with each of his words.

“But even before that, I wanted you.”

And I know, at the tenor of his voice, it’s not the kind of want that I would ever seek. At how his voice drops, so no one else can possibly hear, that I will not like what he is going to say.

“I wanted you the moment I saw you and your father’s face in the news. When I heard what he did to your mother even though no one would believe he could have done it. I knew he did.” He is seething, spitting on me as he goes on. “I knew that he was capable of ordering violence. Of committing it and buying people’s silence. I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in the way he held you against him. Possessive and consuming.”

I have gone completely still, the very blood in my veins seeming to stop, the pulsing at my side ebbing into a dull ache. His words are in a bubble, trapped between our lips. Each syllable pops and rebuilds it, over and over. Trapping me, over and over.

“I didn’t leave the day they came to kill Jordie.” He continues, “I thought something was wrong, for him to force me out the way he did. I hid on the roof of our building and climbed down the stairs of the fire escape a few hours later. Then I saw him. Your father. Positioning my brother’s body on our couch, I saw him take the bloodied knife and place it on the floor, beneath Jordie’s fingers. I watched as he cleaned off any fingerprints, stole away any evidence. He had no blood on him and by the two men that stumbled onto the street and disappeared down an alley, I knew he hadn’t done the actual act...

“But what’s worse? Following an order for murder or sanctioning it?”

I feel tears slipping down my cheeks, dropping like flies on Kaz’s gloves.

“I followed him. Learned everything I could. I learned that he had been involved with an underground drug operation for decades. That my parents had been in debt with them due to some bad decisions in my dad’s twenties. And that your father had been sent to collect or kill. To send a message to the other debtors. Little did your father know that the victims had two children, that they escaped. And that they would be coming for him.”

The air around me turns infinitely colder, everything still and quiet except Kaz’s voice.

“I watched you too.” He continues, fingers losing their grip a bit on my throat. “I watched to see who you would be. If we would indeed become enemies, as our parents were. I observed you grow with Morosova, how he controlled you, how he led you away all those years, how he kept you quiet and kept you in the dark so you would never find out the truth and be killed, like your mother was.”

His words stab me deeper than the knife, my heart in ribbons. Hearing him confirm my darkest fears unleashes the worst parts of me, the parts I tried so hard to keep hidden. Terrified. Insecure. Silent. Obedient. The little girl with an abusive father and dead mother. I hadn’t been her in so long, but Kaz is stripping me down. Shredding me.

Kaz’s voice drops lower, as if he’s telling me a horrible secret. “He knew about it, Cataleya. Aleksander,” he purrs the name like a curse, “he knew everything. His father was one of the men your father ordered to kill Jordie. Who was a part of the team dispatched to eradicate those who didn’t pay, eradicate my parents. Your parents were working together, how fitting that you and Aleksander would, as well. Fate is funny that way.”

The world shatters around me, broken and splintering into a million pieces. Alek knew. He sat there and listened to me while I cried about my mother, how I had desperately wanted his help to look into what happened. He had warned me to want anything was to give myself up. That the only way for me to find peace was to move forward and never look back. That if I continued to want for closure, I would never find it.

“The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.” He had said, over and over.

How ironically true that had become.

Kaz isn’t done. He continues to pick at me, the Crow in him unable to stop, his dark eyes burning with hate. “Where your own father failed, Aleksander’s father succeeded. He remembered seeing pictures in my house, of me and of Jordie. He remembered that there were two boys. And when I killed him by placing a bomb under his car to be rigged as an oil problem, his son stepped into the role to finish what his father started. To silence me too. But he didn’t and for me, for Jordie, I swore I would destroy them, brick by brick.”

My breathing is coming out in short rasps, eyes blurred with tears of anger and embarrassment and white hot pain. I have been played. So horribly. By everyone in my life. Lied to. By every single person I had known. Even Alek. Alek, who had been the one person I thought would save me. Would be the one in the end to stand by me, to see me, to understand me. But he didn’t. He never did. He used me. Just like my father did. To be a sweet, obedient girl.

In the few months I had known Kaz, he has seen more of me than Alek ever did.

All we ever wanted, me and Alek and Kaz, was to feel safe and be loved. But we never trusted anyone enough to be either. So we fought and resisted and pushed. Into darkness.

A whistle sounds from above, quick and melodic. Inej. Signaling Kaz that he needs to hurry. That enough is enough. But I can see it in his eyes. The hardness. The black pits of revenge and hatred and loathing he feels when he looks at me. It would never be enough. This retribution that he savored for years will never last as long as he wishes it to. I want to wither away into nothing under his stare. Not enough. Not his. Never his. Never a Crow.

“I know you love him,” he whispers so none of the others lurking can hear. “I know he’s the one who saved you. But he used you, Cataleya. He controlled you. You could’ve been so much better, so much bigger. It’s a shame the apple never falls far from the tree.”

I wish it had been you to save me instead. I think, shoving the words down my constricted throat. Maybe if it were Kaz, all those years ago, then things wouldn’t have gotten so messed up. Then maybe I would have been more like Inej, graceful, strong, full of more purpose than what Alek gave me. Maybe I could have meant something. To someone. To the Crows.

But Kaz didn’t find me. Alek did. Alek led me from the garden and held my hand. Alek stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. That I would be okay. Alek raised me to be unforgiving, to scheme and stab people in the back to fill the empty hole in my life. Control. Kaz had said. How he controlled me. How he deceived me. With love. Love. Fake. Love. Fake love. I want to cry or scream at all of them, shaking with rage. I have been a pawn this whole time.

“We are all controlled by something.” I push out, my voice weak.

I try to swallow and fail at the reapplied pressure of Kaz’s palms, drool and spit bubbling from my lips. The alley wall is hard against my back, the night sky black and endless above me. The smog cover is so thick I can’t see the stars, despite the bright spots beginning to dance in my vision. I feel something prick at my spine with the pressure of my position like a silent reminder, mind sharpening and resolve strengthening. Love or no love. I have to finish what I started. I have to complete my assignment. Even if it isn’t one from Kaz.

Even if it is from a liar.

Lies are all I have known.

All I have to hold on to.

I can’t be saved. From darkness. My own or from others. I have waded too deep, gone too far. I may not be a true Raven, but I am definitely not a Crow. No matter how much I wish I could be. No matter how much I came to appreciate them, to care for them, to trust them.

Trust is the most dangerous weapon of all.

Slipping my hands behind my back as if I am trying to scramble against the wall, I reach for the cool metal of the blade attached along the zipper of my dress, letting out a choking cry to cover the unsheathing of my knife. The movement burns my side, ripping open my wound further to pour more blood. It runs over Kaz’s dress shoes, stains my legs. I am losing it too quickly, too much of it ebbing from me at once. Kaz’s hands press harder to my throat, forcing me, willing me, begging me to die now that his speech is over. I know he doesn’t enjoy this. I know he doesn’t relish in murder. Neither do I.

But love is love.

Control is control.

And business is business.

Kaz would agree on that.

“If I’m going down, Kaz,” I begin, voice barely a whisper. “You’re coming with me.”

Without wasting another second, I shove the tip of my knife deep between Kaz’s ribs, watching his face contort in pain and dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then furrow in agony. Almost immediately, I hear a scream tear from somewhere on the roofs above and feel a pang of sorrow course through me. Inej just watched me stab the love of her life. Inej, the strong, graceful warrior who had been through more than all of us. She had screamed. Wailed.

I hear her words echo around my brain. The autumn leaves. Her cream sweater. The weight of her stare. “Some people just can’t be saved. But we love them anyway.”

My sight falters.

Kaz’s grip on my neck loosens, then completely disappears as he stumbles back and I fall towards the concrete without him holding me in place. An arrow pierces my shoulder from above, Jesper no doubt. With that incredible skill for landing true. The impact pushes me forward into Kaz’s already falling body, his white tux shirt now stained with blood.

The world spins, my head making hard contact with the street.

“This action will have no echo.” The rough words leak from Kaz’s lips, voice faint and faraway. If I could cry now I would, remembering the meaning of those words that Inej had told me just days ago. We would repeat nothing now. No more harm. To ourselves or others. This is our repentance. Our forgiveness.

Kaz is close to me, for I can feel the warmth of his body and the slick of his blood as it mixes with mine and stains the concrete.

If someone told me nine years ago, when I buried that cat and found my mother buried instead, that this is where I would end up, I wonder how differently my life would have been. I wonder if I would have chosen a different path. One full of forgiveness and happiness. The one of creation instead of crime. Instead of revenge and retribution. The weight of those decisions hang over me like a cloak, protecting and exposing me at the same time. Using the last bits of my strength, I turn my head to the side to look at him.

Kaz is on his back beside me, so close that I can reach out and touch him. Touch his hand that is limp with resignation, his side that is red with blood, his lips that are white with death. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Even as a small line of blood trickles from the corner of his lips and pings onto the stones. I let my eyes close, pretending the stars behind my eyelids belong to the sky and not to the Grim Reaper. Pretending the stars are his eyes.

We’ve all had hard lives. We’ve all taken on assignments that were too big for us. We’ve all done things we regretted and we all leaned on each other too much for our own good while leaning on no one at all. We all let the ghosts of our pasts haunt us into our future. Especially Kaz. And that’s the problem with trusting ghosts, in the end you become one.

You become transparent, empty, without an echo.

“No mourners.” I manage to mumble into the night.

“No funerals.” A disembodied voice murmurs back, but I’m not sure who it belongs to.

And then there is nothing but darkness.

---

~Admin Eggplant

42 notes · View notes