#and people will be sad about what happened to her and mourn her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Sin & The Penance

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, revenge motive, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night he could not sleep – he wriggled in bed, checking from time to time whether she had perhaps called him back or written anything. Although he had tried to reach her at least ten times she did not answer and he was afraid to write her a message.

What if she went to the police with this?

Maybe that's what he deserved, he thought after a while with regret, staring blankly at the bright screen of his phone, wondering if he should try again despite the late hour.

As much as he tried to find some logical justification for what he had done, he couldn't explain what had really driven him.

Admittedly, at first he was guided only by anger and spite, but then these emotions disappeared, replaced by a hot, dark desire that filled his loins, completely overshadowing his cool judgement.

Something about her brightness, her lightness, her joy, made him long to lean over her like the dark sky, like night over the stars, and cover her with his blackness, his emptiness, consuming and devouring her.

He had never experienced such a disturbing and overpowering sensation before and was horrified that he was prone to such thoughts and such actions.

He had completely lost his mind because of her.

She had asked him to let her go, so why didn't he do so?

Alys had always been eager for his aggressive, violent games, he knew that, and he felt no remorse about what he was doing to her or where, but this little girl was terrified, trembling all over with fear, and yet all he could think about was how desperately he needed to feel her.

Perhaps subconsciously her cheerfulness, her attitude attracted him.

Maybe after years of sadness and mourning he wanted to feel at last something more than grief.

He covered his eyes with his hand, sighing heavily at that thought, feeling a squeeze in his throat and heart.

He only fell into a restless sleep in the morning with his phone lying next to his face, and was awakened two hours later by his alarm clock anyway, which he switched off with displeasure, tired, sad and embarrassed by what he had done.

He couldn't look Daeron in the face as they ate breakfast together. His little brother looked up at him from over his bowl of his favourite cereal with milk – he knew he was about to start asking questions about her.

"When will Esmeralda come here to sew our costumes?" He asked finally, stirring the milk with his spoon, looking at the chocolate balls that floated on its surface.

He pressed his lips together, not knowing how to explain to him how much he had fucked up.

What he had done to her.

"I don't know if she'll even show up here again." He replied truthfully, Daeron gave him a quick, horrified look.

"She promised me. She promised me we'd sew them together and go to the ball." He muttered, his eyes filling with tears again.

He decided he wouldn't be so cruel as to let him believe it was her fault, though part of his mind opted for that.

"I know, but I hurt her and I'm afraid she won't forgive me." He said lowly, swallowing hard, fiddling with his coffee cup, not daring to look at him, his heart pounding like mad.

"What do you mean? Did you hit her?" He asked in disbelief, and he clenched his eyes, realising that in his childish mind the greatest harm a man could do to a woman was that he could slap her.

He was silent for a while, not sure how or if I should explain it to him, whether it would be too much.

"In a way. And I did something else, much worse. Against her pleas. I could go to jail for that." He muttered, covering his face with his hand, feeling that even though he hadn't eaten anything he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why did you do that? She's so kind. What did she do to you? Did you get angry with her because of me?" He mumbled through his tears. He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought that, like any child, he was trying to justify the adult in his head, deciding that after all he was smarter and more experienced than him, so his behaviour must have been because he, his little brother, had done something wrong.

"No. No, it didn't and doesn't have anything to do with you. This is our adult business, but she has the right to be very angry with me and not speak to me. However, I'm completely sure she doesn't blame you." He replied quickly, biting his lower lip.

It wasn't until he spoke it aloud that it occurred to him how pathetic, inappropriate and cruel what he had done was, how afraid she must have been of him.

Was she telling herself she liked it so she could somehow survive it? She decided to go along with it so she wouldn't suffer?

"Do you think I can call her?" He asked in a quivering voice, and he looked at him with his heart pounding fast, recognising in the back of his mind that it was an excellent thought, that she might want to at least talk to him.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll give you her number, but call her from your phone. She's not answering from me."

He stared feeling the cold sweat on his back at his brother's reflection in the mirror driving towards the centre, seeing as he pressed the numbers written on the piece of paper on the keypad of his phone and lifted it to his ear – he heard the quiet beep of a call waiting.

He shuddered as someone answered, trying to focus on the road, complete panic in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hello? Hi, it's Daeron. Can you talk? No, he can't hear what you're saying, we're just driving to the centre." He muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling a constriction in his chest from which he found it hard to breathe, trying to erase from his mind the image of him slamming into her again and again with the brutal, sharp thrusts of his hips.

"He told me that he had done you wrong and that he had hurt you very badly. I'm very sorry he did that. I just wanted to ask when we're going to sew our costumes." He mumbled out quickly. He felt his eyebrows arch in shame and covered his mouth with his free hand, resting his elbow against his car door, looking ahead in disbelief.

How could he do this to her?

For a moment Daeron listened to what she was saying on the phone with concentration and he was dying inside, afraid that she would explain to him with details of what he had done to her. After a moment he nodded as if he understood what she meant, he saw his face lighten a little.

"Okay. Okay, I'll ask my brother if he agrees to it. Bye bye." He said softly and hung up, sighing heavily.

"And?" He asked looking at him in the mirror, stopping in the car park, feeling like he was about to go crazy. His brother looked down at his fingers.

"Esmeralda said that after your argument she can no longer come to our house, but that I can come to her at the University. She said that the building is modern and wheelchair accessible, there are special toilets, lifts and everything needed. We could do my homework in her room in the dormitory and then walk around the campus, sewing and painting." He said uncertainly, glancing at him pleadingly. He swallowed loudly, feeling disappointed and at the same time understanding of her decision and grunted softly, turning off the engine.

"Would you like that?" He asked him calmly, and his brother nodded quickly.

"Then so be it."

Despite his requests, Daeron refused to tell him which of the boys had called him Quasimodo.

He said that it didn't matter now.

He thought with regret that his younger brother had more maturity and calmness in himself than he did.

Sitting at work he was all nerves, he had not received any notification that anyone had filed a police report on him, so for some reason, perhaps out of fear, she had not done so.

He felt both relieved and ashamed at the same time, unable to look at himself, thinking that he was not only disgusting on the outside but also on the inside.

When Alys suggested that they go to the toilet for a while he simply agreed, feeling that he needed to lash out, to expel the grief, shame and desperation that seemed to fill his whole body.

He turned her body violently with her back to him, thinking with fatigue that he didn't want to look at her face. As he unzipped his trousers he tried to focus on what he saw in front of him, on her panties lowered halfway down her thighs, her entrance sticky with arousal. He closed his eyes and grasped his cock firmly in his hand, giving it a few aggressive, hard strokes.

As much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her sweet moans, about how wonderful she smelled, about how tight she was, about her body convulsing in his embrace.

He got instantly hard, wasted no time and surprised his lover, who moaned with delight at feeling how direct and exceptionally violent he was this day, his thrusts full of desperation and aggression, his groans low and throaty.

Something was wrong – her insides were different, her buttocks were different, her scent was different, too intense, her moans too deep, too sensual, not as innocent and surprised as hers.

He pressed his lips together feeling he couldn't focus or get as much pleasure out of it as he would have liked.

"− shut the fuck up −" He growled speeding up but it was to no avail – when he opened his eyes he saw a completely different woman in front of him. He slowed down, swallowing loudly, feeling that nothing would come of it.

"− fucking bastard − ah, don't stop − what happened? − did I do something wrong? −" She asked as he slid out of her and fastened his zipper in a quick motion, furious, disappointed, humiliated, distraught that he wanted her, this little girl, her moans, her scent, her touch, her gaze, her tight, weeping cunt, being able to spend whole nights with his face sunk between her thighs, begging her forgiveness, muttering between the flicks of his tongue that he would make it all up to her.

"− no − I'm sorry, it's my fault −" He said lowly, not wanting to lash out at her. She grunted quietly, surprised, putting her lacy underwear and trousers back on over her hips, fastening them with a quick, nimble movement.

"− you seem stressed − something wrong? − do you want to talk? −" She asked softly, and he felt a kind of gratitude that she hadn't laughed at him or judged him, that she had acted as if nothing had happened.

He decided, however, that he didn't want to share his thoughts with her.

"− no − forgive me − have a nice day −" He said calmly, opening the cubicle door and left the restroom, moving down the corridor in front of him, clenching his eyelids, brushing his short, slicked-back hair with a quick movement.

What had happened between them, what he had done to her had left a mark on more than just her.

He felt as if he had woken up from a lethargy after five years, everything around him was sharper and brighter, painfully clear.

The next morning, according to the arrangements made between her and Daeron, he was to turn up in the car park outside the University from where she was to pick up his brother.

He dreaded this meeting, dreaded what he would see in her face, disgust, regret and bitterness, all the way to the place he felt like stopping and throwing up.

He felt a shudder and a loud pounding of his heart when they arrived at the agreed spot and he noticed her, standing between the cars dressed in a fitted strapless dress with daisies on it, her beautiful hair the scent of which he could still smell in his nostrils loose, trainers on her feet.

He stopped, swallowing hard, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out, glancing at her – she stood at a safe distance from them and looked away, playing with the fingers of her hands, thoughtful and sad.

What he saw hurt him even more than if she had been staring at him with hatred.

He walked around the car and took out Daeron's wheelchair to which he helped him move from the back seat – his little brother beamed at the sight of her and began to move the wheels himself heading towards her. He saw with regret that she smiled warmly when she saw him, genuine joy on her face.

"Hi. High five!" She said to him cockily and their hands hit each other in the air, even though he was standing a few steps away she didn't give him a single glance.

"So, shall we go?" She asked encouragingly, and Daeron nodded.

He wanted to ask if she was sure he would be safe here, if she would remember to take him to lunch, if she would watch out for him, but he didn't dare, shame took his speech away.

He decided it would be better if he kept quiet and led them away with his gaze, then got into his car and drove to work.

He spent all day thinking about her, sitting over the case files recalling again and again her appearance, her pleasant figure, her warm face that beamed all over at the sight of his younger brother.

Why did she have to be like this?

Why did she have to be what he craved, the personification of his deepest, darkest needs, a ripe peach that someone had placed in front of him on a platter while he was starving?

When he arrived after work to pick up Daeron they both stood in the distance, said their goodbyes, and she turned away without even bestowing a single glance on him. He got out of the car, intent on helping his brother into the back seat.

"And how was it?" He asked lowly, feeling sadness and emptiness, anxiety and a strange tightening in his stomach.

"Great! We studied together in her room and then she showed me around the whole campus. We even looked in the classroom where the students were painting portraits and she told me a bit about how it was done. Everyone was very friendly." He said quickly, clearly excited and pleased. He swallowed hard, sighing softly as he folded his wheelchair and threw it back into the boot.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asked calmly, returning to the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt and turning on the engine.

"Yes, we had lunch in the university canteen. I could choose whatever I wanted." He said with satisfaction, a wide smile on his face.

He felt like asking him if she had mentioned anything about him, if she had anything to convey to him, but realised that there was nothing she might want to tell him.

She was doing this to keep her word to Daeron.

For a few weeks it seemed to him that he had locked himself in some kind of circle, looking forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays, days during which he would see her, albeit only from a distance, her figure bright and graceful.

He wondered with pain if she still had the bruises on her neck that his lips had left and swallowed loudly, feeling ashamed that his manhood reacted to that thought with a strong throbbing in his trousers.

He had suspected it before, but now he was absolutely sure.

He was fucking mad.

On the day the carnival ball was to be held, he was supposed to drive Daeron to the centre and pick him up after a few hours, but he decided that it wouldn't be worth going home for such a short time and he would just wait for them somewhere off to the side without bothering them.

As he pulled up in front of the building he swallowed heavily, seeing her from a distance, already dressed in her Esmeralda costume, her dark, loose hair tied with a violet scarf to form a headband, bells tied to her purple skirt, simple black ballerinas on her feet, round gold earrings in her ears, clanking bracelets on her wrists.

However, what drew his attention most was her white, buff long-sleeved shirt, tucked into the the sea-colored corset under her breasts that wonderfully emphasized her waist, it's sleeves lowered so that her shoulders were bare, it was slit down in the middle, showing the bare skin of her chest.

He swallowed loudly, looking away, feeling with horror that the very sight of it made him hard.

He grunted, helping Daeron out of the car and moved behind him, guessing that she wasn't going to help his brother dress after all, not wanting to invade his privacy.

"You really look like Esmeralda! So beautiful!" Exclaimed his younger brother, and she turned gracefully raising her hands with a clink of her bells and bracelets, showing off her costume in all its glory.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Where's my costume?!" He asked excitedly, and she picked up the large paper bag that stood next to her feet and smiled.

"Here. Let's go." She said lightly without looking at him, Daeron immediately pushed the wheels of his wheelchair and headed after her.

He moved behind them, feeling like an intruder, looking everywhere but at her, trying not to think about the sight of her partially exposed back.

She explained to him quickly what needed to be put on first and how – he was impressed that what she had made really did look like golden armour, but when he took out the individual pieces they turned out to be surprisingly light.

He locked himself and Daeron in one of the toilet cubicles, helping him to change, his brother looking extremely pleased.

"Are you two reconciled?" He asked, clearly thinking that since she was speaking to him again she had forgiven him. He swallowed loudly, not knowing how to explain to him that what he had done could not simply be taken back.

"I don't think so. But don't think about it. Hm?" He asked softly and he lowered his gaze, disappointed.

The sight of himself in the armour gave him confidence – it appeared that the whole thing had been designed so that he could flex his arms, elbows and wrists, the parts fitted together.

He thought with a pained grin that she had really made an effort.

"You look great. What a real knight you are. Come, it's time for you to dance a little with your beautiful Esmeralda." He said calmly, opening the door for him. He wheeled out into the corridor with a smile, his Esmeralda catching her cheeks with a wide smile of delight.

"My knight. Promise to protect me from the evil thugs!" She called out theatrically and glared at him – he swallowed loudly, turning his face away in shame, his younger brother assuring her that he would not let anyone hurt her.

Too late, he thought.

For some reason, he felt tears under his eyelids, his throat squeezed so tight he had trouble breathing.

He watched as they moved ahead into a large gymnasium where the lights were slightly dim, a disco ball was spinning on the ceiling, Girls Just Want To Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper was playing in the background, children and their caretakers spinning around, dressed as various characters and creatures.

Although many of the costumes looked quite impressive, he couldn't take his eyes off her – as she danced she sang the lyrics of the song with theatrical devotion as if she knew them by heart, her hair, bracelets and earrings glistened in the light of the multi-coloured lights, the sweat on the bare skin of her exposed arms glittered like little crystals.

He looked at her leaning with his back against the wall with his hands folded in front of him, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, covering up what was happening in his trousers.

He looked around the room and noticed a group of boys looking at her and Daeron. He frowned, wondering if they were the ones calling his brother Quasimodo.

He felt some kind of satisfaction at the thought that they were watching his brother dance with a pretty girl.

He really deserved her.

Such a good kid.

He left after a while, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket – even though he hadn't smoked in months and was trying to quit, he felt that what was happening was too much for him.

His hands trembled as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his lighter, taking a loud drag, closing his eyes, clenching his fingers on the base of his nose.

There was only chaos in his head.

"We need to talk." He heard her soft, trembling voice and turned around immediately, taking a few steps away, for some reason terrified by her sudden proximity.

He stared at her with his lips slightly parted, his body froze still, his heart pounding like mad, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

God, she was pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"I can no longer take care of Daeron. I just wanted to keep my promise and go to the ball with him. I think he's had enough disappointments in his life and I didn't want to provide him with any more." She said shivering all over, looking everywhere but at him – he felt like he was about to vomit from terror and grief.

What?

"But…if I'm the problem, we can arrange it so that I bring him in a while early and you pick him up from under the main entrance. I'll pay you more." He muttered, completely surprised by her words, not knowing what to say, not wanting to imagine how his little brother would react.

She shook her head quickly at his words, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists in a nervous gesture.

"I can't. He reminds me of you. You two are similar in appearance." She mumbled and burst out crying, drawing in air loudly, covering her face with her hand in an attempt to calm herself. He looked at her in disbelief, feeling his voice get stuck in his throat.

"I haven't told anyone about what you did to me, because in his eyes you are his authority. I don't want to put him through unnecessary suffering, but I expect you to come up with something and find some convincing explanation as to why I can't continue to take care of him, Mr Prosecutor." She muttered regretfully wiping her cheeks swollen from tears, struggling to catch her breath, her plump lips parted, her eyebrows arched in despair.

He didn't know when he fell to his knees in front of her, when he clasped his hands around her waist, dropping his cigarette to the ground – he pressed his face to her womb, breathing loudly, feeling like he was going through some kind of panic, his lungs compressed, tears streaming down his face one after another, everything around him seemed to spin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − I'm sorry − please, please, forgive me −" He mumbled hysterically what he had wanted to say to her for weeks – he heard her gasp loudly in shock, raising her hands in a gesture of helplessness, felt her place them on his shoulders trying to gently push him away, her stomach trembled under his face in sobs.

"− l-let me go − please, get up −" She whimpered pleadingly, but he shook his head – he thought he couldn't do it, he couldn't let her go.

"− I need you − even if for the rest of my life I will only look at you from afar −" He exhaled helplessly, sinking his nose into the material of her soft skirt, feeling her wonderful scent fill his lungs again, the warmth of her body that enveloped his face.

He didn't care that the people around them were looking at them like they were crazy, didn't care that perhaps they knew who he was.

"− I can't − I've tried − I've forgiven you, but I can't forget − you robbed me of my dignity −" She said in a raspy, broken voice – he felt himself whooping with his own tears, clasping his fingers at her back, his helpless mumbling ripped from his throat as if without the participation of his free will.

"− do what you want with me − fucking destroy me −"

"Aemond? What's going on?" He heard his brother's frightened voice and immediately rose from his knees, letting her go, both of them wiping their faces quickly, her cheeks pale and at the same time red from tears.

"We needed to talk. I'll be right back." She said quickly, forcing herself to smile – Daeron could sense the tension between them though, his lips tightened, his gaze wandering from him to her.

"Have you…reconciled yet? Has my brother apologised to you?" He asked uncertainly and she nodded and laughed lightly, something in her response made him clench his eyelids and swallow loudly – he covered his face with his hand, feeling that for some reason he couldn't stop crying.

You robbed me of my dignity.

"− y-yes − yes, we've already explained everything to each other, we simply got a little emotional − come on, let's go back inside −" She said softly and stroked his head – he smiled at her and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" He asked, but he shook his head, choking out that he would wait for them in the car.

He locked himself inside in the driver's seat and put his forehead on the steering wheel, feeling an overpowering emptiness and this awful, terrifying chill, as if someone had gouged out his insides with a spoon like the flesh of a fruit, leaving only a mere shell.

He thought that he had died five years ago, on the day of that accident.

He only existed so that Daeron could live on.

He shuddered, as if awakened from a deep, restless slumber, hearing a knock on the window on his side – he glanced there and saw Daeron waving at him and his Esmeralda, looking at him uncertainly, terrified of his condition, dark night all around them.

He got out of the car, massaging his forehead, feeling a terrible headache, not being sure for a moment where he actually was or what time it was – in an automatic reflex he opened the back door and helped Daeron get in, he could smell her scent beside him, her gaze fixed on him.

"Are you sure you should drive?" She asked hesitantly, and he swallowed loudly, thinking that since the day of that accident he had never gotten into a car that someone else was driving.

"Yes. Shall I drive you back?" He asked lowly, not looking at her, folding Daeron's small wheelchair.

"No need, thank you, I'll get an Uber." She muttered, his younger brother furrowed his brow, looking at her worriedly.

"We'll drive you back. It's late, you shouldn't be going home alone." He insisted.

She sighed quietly and nodded, walking around the car, sitting down next to Daeron in the back seat.

He got behind the wheel and started the engine, involuntarily glancing at her in the mirror – their gazes met, her eyes sad and tired, full of a regret she had every right to feel.

He drove ahead, trying to wake up and focus on the road, looking at the lights of the cars passing him and thought that maybe if he had killed them it would have been better for all of them.

He grunted loudly, tilting his head back, leaning against the backrest, recognising that he had completely lost his mind, that he was sinking into depression and hysteria, that he had reached the very bottom.

It seemed to him that she sensed that something was happening to him – he was catching her on the fact that she was glancing at him uncertainly, answering something to Daeron who was chatting her up, talking about his friends' costumes. She was just nodding, pretending to listen to him, her hands playing with the material of her skirt in a nervous gesture.

God, how he longed for her to drive with him to their house, to go with him to his bedroom, so that he could kneel before her and whisper how sorry he was, how he wished he could make it all right, to slide with his hands the material of her shirt and her skirt, so that his lips could kiss her whole beautiful, warm body with devotion and adoration, her feet, her calves, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her face, her….

"WATCH OUT!" He heard her scream of terror and pressed the brake suddenly, at the last moment stopping in front of a crossroads where he should have given way to those driving on his right and left – a man almost rammed into them and started honking at them, gesticulating aggressively, opening his window and shouting, asking what the fuck he was doing.

He looked quickly in the mirror, feeling as if he was deaf, his brother was crying loudly, snuggled into her, shaking with fear, her eyes wide, staring at him in horror.

"… are you all right?" He asked dully, feeling like his head was spinning – he saw her nod quickly, and then suddenly he went dark in front of his eyes, his head dropped limply and hit something hard.

He was awakened by someone's conversation. He felt someone touching him, something pleasantly warm enveloped him – his body was lying on something soft and comfortable, he thought he was lying on the sofa in his house.

"− overwork, dehydration, stress, trauma − anything could have caused this, ma'am − when can his sister come? −" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"− his younger brother called her, but she only managed to buy a plane ticket for tomorrow −" He heard her soft, warm voice – he shuddered and opened his eyes with difficulty, wanting to see her, to make sure nothing had happened to her.

He spotted her blurred silhouette in the warm light of the night lamp – she was sitting next to him on the sofa in his living room, still dressed in her Esmeralda costume.

"− can you stay here until she arrives? − are you a friend of the family? −" Asked the man who was apparently a paramedic, packing his suitcase and pulling off his latex gloves. She nodded.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm his little brother's carer −" She replied calmly, the man and she both glanced at him when they noticed he was awake.

"− how are you feeling, sir? − you had a panic attack and fainted − I have given you intravenous sedatives and strengthening medications, you should feel better soon −" The man with the black beard, surely a few years older than him, said to him.

He grunted quietly as he tried to raise himself up on his elbows, feeling everything around him swirl and lay back, giving up.

"− fuck − I'm dizzy −" He muttered, his stomach sore and clenched.

She rose from her seat as the doctors left Daeron's room, sighing heavily in relief when the woman explained that he had only been scared.

"Aemond!" He shouted when he saw that he was awake, riding up to him in his wheelchair, wiping his face red from tears.

"− I thought − I thought you had died − you weren't moving − w-we couldn't wake you up −" He mumbled, and he hugged his head to his chest, closing his eyes, stroking his soft hair with his large hand.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry − I've been working too much lately and I fainted −" He lied, swallowing loudly, his brother nodding his head in understanding, cuddling into him like a teddy bear. He kissed his temple, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He thought he needed to pull himself together.

"− Esmeralda said she would stay with us until Helaena arrives − now it's up to us to take care of you − lie here and don't worry about a thing −" He said in a voice hoarse from crying and patted his head – he felt a tightness in his throat at his words, his eyebrows arched in emotion, he smiled involuntarily, feeling his lower lip tremble.

"− then I'm in good hands −"

He watched wordlessly as the doctors and medics left their house, Daeron showing his Esmeralda where she could find clothes to change into – she appeared a few minutes later in his long black hoodie reaching halfway down her thighs, her legs wonderfully bare.

She bustled around the kitchen with Daeron, trying to make dinner – he couldn't get out of his awe at what a harmonious duo they were, his brother talking to her without shame or embarrassment.

If he had been wiser, if he had given her a chance then instead of humiliating her, maybe now they would be preparing dinner together.

He rose to sit down when she brought him tea and sandwiches, thanking her meekly. He sighed heavily feeling he wouldn't swallow anything and although the medications were starting to work, he felt like his head was going to burst.

She only returned to the living room after she had helped Daeron change into his pyjamas and put him to bed. She approached him hesitantly and sat down next to him on the couch, not looking at him but at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, covering her knees with the material of his sweatshirt.

He looked at her, silent for a long moment.

"Exactly as I should after what I did." He replied finally, not knowing how else he was supposed to call what he was feeling.

She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed in pain, regret and sadness in her gaze, but at the same time also some kind of concern.

He thought in disbelief that his fate mattered to her despite what he had done to her.

She lowered her gaze to her knees, fiddling with the material that covered her thighs in a nervous gesture.

"He needs you composed. Emotionally stable." She said sadly, her lips trembling.

He stared at her face unable to take his eyes off her, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch her, dreaming of her hugging him and locking him in her arms.

"I know." He said dryly, understanding exactly what she meant.

He couldn't be unpredictable, distracted while driving in the car, at work and on a daily basis.

Could not be distracted by her.

"Why did you do it? Then when I wanted to leave?" She finally asked in a voice quivering with grief, and looked at him, the depth of disappointment, sadness and emptiness in her bright eyes.

He licked his lower lip dry with stress and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he stared straight into her face.

"Because I wanted to feel you. You were so sweet and soft. You were melting in my hands. I couldn't stop." He muttered at last, feeling with shame how pathetic that explanation was, thinking he was just a fucking pervert.

He drew in a loud breath as she slid the blanket off him and sat on top of him, pressing her buttocks against what was under his trousers – he wanted to grab her hips, feeling a rush of adrenaline from disbelief, but she grabbed his wrists.

"No. Don't touch me. If I feel your hands on my body I'll start screaming. I will tell Daeron everything you did to me and that you tried to do it a second time." She said with a seriousness from which his breath caught in his throat; he immediately placed his hands as before on either side of his body, watching in disbelief as her tiny fingers undid his button and zipper, his cock immediately swelled and began to pulsate, a loud shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

God, was she really going to do this?

As if in response to his thoughts, she spread the material of his trousers to the side and slid his boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection, twitching with lust, the head of it pink and glistening. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, swallowing loudly when he felt her grab it's base with a gentle flick of her hand and direct its thick tip between her warm thighs.

She had no underwear underneath.

She lowered herself onto him a tiny bit, barely sinking the fat head of his cock inside her, teasing him with the lewd click of her moisture – the sight of him stretching her slit and how wet she was turned him on so much that a low, helpless groan escaped his throat.

"− be quiet or I'll stop − do you want me to stop? − you didn't give me that choice, but I'm not that cruel −" She said with regret as he shook his head quickly, feeling how desperate he was to feel her again.

"− please −" He heard his own pathetic voice, not believing he was allowing it, but he no longer cared what she would do to him, he wanted to fuck her in any way she would let him.

He felt some relief at the thought of being humiliated, he wanted her to do to him what he did to her even though he knew she didn't have his awful nature.

"− what are you asking me to do? −" She whispered softly, almost tenderly, as if her superiority over him was giving her back what he had taken from her, her power over her own body, over what was happening to her.

"− use me −" He breathed out in a voice hoarse with emotion, saw that something had changed in her gaze, her lips parted in a shuddering breath.

He clasped his hands on the fabric of the couch and leaned his head back, gasping out loud as he felt her let him all the way inside her, his hard, fat cock throbbed aggressively with desire squeezed wonderfully by her hot, tight walls – he knew he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment and that she felt it too.

She put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him, but not moving, waiting for his manhood to stop twitching inside her – her pretty, flushed face surrounded by her dark, shiny curls, her bright eyes fixed on him, her plump, swollen lips parted in a quickened breath.

"− use you? − mr. prosecutor wants to make me feel good? −" She asked in a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and arousal, as if she herself was shocked by what she was doing and by the fact that he was listening to her, by the way he was responding to her, by how much he desired her.

"− yes −" He mumbled out and closed his eyes with a low moan, feeling that with flick of her hips she slowly slid his cock out of her only to push it back in with a loud click of her wetness.

"− why? −" She exhaled, moving on top of him painfully slowly, her tight fleshy muscles giving him a wonderful squeeze each time she forced him back between her plushy folds, they both began to breathe louder and louder. He bent his legs at the knees, involuntarily tentatively responding to her thrusts with deep stabs of his hips.

"− God, don't you see that I crave you? −" He groaned low, with the last of his strong will restraining himself from tightening his hands on her buttocks and forcing her to move faster.

There was something wonderful about this slow agony, in the way she teased him, rubbing herself at the spot from which she felt the greatest pleasure, a sweet moan escaped her lips at his words.

"− are you always like this when you see me? − like you are now between my thighs? −" She mumbled in embarrassment, speeding up, their naked bodies began to slam against each other with splats of her moisture – he dared to buck into her harder, they both began to pant loudly, looking at each other with their mouths wide open, her lips puffy with desire.

"− of course − I jerk off every day thinking about you − fuck −" He muttered with difficulty, feeling the tickle and heat in his lower abdomen, his cock swelling with desire so much that he felt like it was about to explode if he didn't come inside her, their naked bodies slamming against each other.

He delighted in the sight of her throwing her head back at his words, her hot core pulsed hard around him, sucking him inside, her fingers clenched on the material of his sweatshirt, her buttocks slapping loudly against his thighs, soaking him all over.

"− touch me − touch me −" She cried out and he caught her quickly, one of his hands weaved into her hair and pressed her face against his, their lips joined in an aggressive, thirsty, sticky kiss, the fingers of his other hand clenched on the soft, firm skin of her ass.

They moaned loudly into each other's mouths as he began to pound into her like mad, almost not sliding out of her anymore – he embraced her and hugged her body to his, gripping her around the waist, her hands stroking his cheeks, his neck, his scar, his cock thrusting into her weeping folds twitching and throbbing like crazy.

"− fuck − fuck, baby, m gonna cum −" He babbled between the flicks of their lips, tongues and teeth. She gasped and came at his words with a loud mewl of surprise – he felt her moisture run down her thighs onto his lower abdomen, her muscles began to clench on him greedily, squeezing him wonderfully. He threw his head back and moaned in relief when he felt his warm seed spurt out inside her.

"− oh God − oh my fucking God −" He mumbled, experiencing such an intense orgasm for the first time in his life – for a moment he went dark before his eyes, he could see or hear nothing, there was only the wonderful hot pleasure spilling over his whole body, his hands clenched on her hot skin.

He hugged her close, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck, covering their bodies with his blanket, not wanting Daeron to accidentally find them in this position, while having no intention of changing it.

He felt wonderful.

He stroked her soft hair placing tender, wet kisses on her temple, his other hand trailing reassuringly down her back, feeling that she was trembling all over with emotion, unsure as he was of what had really happened between them.

"− sleep here, little one − I won't touch you against your will − I promise −" He whispered, but her silence answered him – she breathed loudly along with him, lying still, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

"− I know −" She replied quietly after a moment, rising on her shoulders, sliding him out of her with a soft motion of her hips, his hands clasped helplessly on her thighs.

"− please, don't go −" He muttered, looking at her in horror, his heart pounding like mad.

Please, let me go.

"− I'm sorry −"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Please, let me go.

She rose from the couch, trembling all over, covering her thighs with his sweatshirt, his semen mingled with her moisture ran down her naked skin.

"− I'll sleep in the free room next to Daeron's bedroom − I'll lock myself in − don't come to me and don't ever touch me again − we're even −" She said in a calm, quivering voice full of sorrow, sadness and emptiness.

He wanted to touch her fingers but she turned and left the living room, hiding her face in her hand as if she was crying again, disappearing down the corridor.

He lay looking dully at the spot where she had stood just a moment before, feeling a squeeze in his throat – with trembling hands he slipped his boxers back on and zipped up his trousers, feeling tears of disappointment running down the sides of his face onto the pillow under his head.

We're even.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

261 notes · View notes

littlelightfish · 2 months

Text

We alredy know what's Chilchuck's worst nightmare. What if I told you that it was canon?

His daughters have alredy been eaten. His wife was eaten too. His family are all dead. His worst nightmare has come truth. And he for sure feels like it's partially his fault, because it's the Winged Lion doing, yes, but who helped Laios get here? Chilchuck. And who's daughters and wife are now dead because of it? Chilchuck's. The suggestion of recreating them tells us that they've alredy been eaten. The way he says it makes it feel like it's too late. They're dead. Because of him. Of his actions. Of his job. The irony of it all is actually quite cruel. He makes a union so he can prevent bad things to happen to his race, to his family, and then, and he works at the union. And now, because of his job, he got them all killed.

He doesn't even know how his daughters are until way later, I don't even know if in the manga they send letters to him during the feast, because I know they don't go to said feast. So Chilchuck doesn't know if his girls are alright until, again, way later. We know they don't die because, well, there's this comic of them going to meet Laios, the new king. But if not for that, who could tell us they didn't die on the monster appearances? I can imagine that after the feast Chil went stright to check on them. Because he loves his daughters, and he cares for his wife. He sucks at communicating it, yes, but he does.

He doesn't want to risk his family's safety. But he, unknowingly, unwillingly, indirectly, did. He got them eaten by those demons because he helped his friends achieve his goal. Because he cared about Falin and wanted her to be human again. Because he cared about Laios and didn'twanted to see him loose his sister. Because he cared about Marcille, Senshi and Itsuzumi. He cares so much about everyone and wants to help everyone (in his own way), that he doesn't think that the result would, inevitably so, be the worst outcome for him. The one in wich work and private life get mixed together. His job as a member of Laios's party ended dragging his family in, despite his best efforts. His job ended up, not only endangering the whole word with demons, but his family. His four precious girls. It ended up almost killing them (probably it killed them for some time because getting eaten by those demons works wierd).

Worst part? He didn't have the time to be mourn over what he 100% sure thought was the complete loss of his family. He was in a hurry to survive himself, so he pushed those sad feelings and tried his best to help who he had left. Later on he finds out that the demons spitted out people. And he seems shocked with some kind of surprised relief.

He looks how everyone that got eaten was alive. And he can't quite either believe it nor understand it. He is really confused. So they didn't die? Are my daughters ok? Is my wife ok? Did everybody survived? Are they alive? He dares to hope that they're all ok and pulls into a box his feelings again, saving it up for when he has the time to be overwhelmed about this all. He has a feast, trying not to worry, but worried sick. Then he goes home and checks on them.

Give this poor man a break and a beer...

#do not.#make him miserable #make him suffer #because #he is a father and a husband and is worried sick about his family well-being all the time #they are why he acts like he does #why he tries to keep family and work in separate rooms #but he fails so catastrophically its almost comical #like #luckily they were alright #but its a miracle his hair doesn't turn white right away #maybe he writed a letter to his daughters during the prepararions for the feast #that would explain why he doesn't have a single white hair after this #but we'll say he disnt for the sake of angst #dungeon meshi #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck angst #dunmeshi #dunmeshi angst #dungeon meshi angst #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon #if you want to write something about this #dm me the fic #i NEED TO SEE THE ANGST #@ me if you don't want to dm me but i might not see it because it would get lost in my notifs :(#my shit

151 notes · View notes

dragon-kazansky · 3 months

Text

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Seven - Sound of wings

☆☆☆

Morpheus had been rather down these last few days. He kept mostly to himself. You had spent most of your time in raven form, too embarrassed to appear to him in human form. Even though you had got the hang of changing now.

You looked up at him as he adjusted his coat slightly. "Going somewhere?"

He looked almost startled by you when he realised you were beside him. He looked down at you. "I'm going to the waking world. I'm meeting my sister..."

You cock your head to the side. "Want me to come with you?"

He goes silent for a moment and then answers. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

He looks relieved, almost.

You stay on his shoulder as he transports you to the waking world. You take flight over his head as he leads you both to a public park. Morpheus sits down, and you land on the bench next to him.

In his hands is some bread. He statt pulling at it and spreading it on the ground.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Trying to blend in."

You look around. There is a lot happening in the park. Some people are playing a gane with a ball. Some people are walking dogs, kr sitting on benches chatting. Some people are playing with children in the distance.

However, as you look back at Morpheus, you can't help feeling he still stands out. No one seems to bat an eye at him.

You look up at him. He looks sad again. "Is something wrong?" You tey and coax him.

"Don't worry about it."

You sigh and hop a little closer to him. "Look, we're friends, right? You've done a lot for me. I want to help you too. You can talk to me about stuff."

He glances at you. "I know. I think... I'll wait until she gets here."

You know he means his sister. You look at the bread in his hands. He seems to notice you watching him. He takes some crumbs between his fingers and then throws them at you.

"Hey!" You look up at him.

He has a smug little smile on his face. You watch him try and do it again, but this time, you fight back and try to nip his fingers with your beak. He flinches his hand back and then throws more bread crumbs at you before sulking again and feeding the other birds in front of him.

You scoff softly and move to stand on the back of the bench.

"Stupid pigeons. They're not as fun as me, you know."

Dream doesn't respond. You wonder what's on his mind. You wish he would talk to you.

A ball comes flying from the game being played, and Morpheus catches it one hand. You look up at him in awe. It makes sense he would be able to catch it like it did, but it still impressed you. Morpheus impressed you.

The young man playing the game came over and apologised. He looks at you and then back at Morpheus. He obviously finds it strange that this grown man is sitting on a bench with a bird, but you talking would definitely make it weirder.

He takes the ball and returns to the game.

You look up in time to see his sister walking over. She smiles at you before taking a seat on the bench. A moment of silence passes between the siblings before she speaks.

"What you doing?"

"I'm feeding the pigeons," he replies.

Death looks at you before looking back at her brother. She can tell something is wrong.

"You do that too much, you know what you get?"

Morpheus shakes his head gently.

"Fat pigeons." She smiles. "That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?"

"No."

A little girl runs past through the birds and startles them. You watch her go. Death smiles as she watches her go, too.

Morpheus is very silent. Death looks at her brother and asks, "what's the matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"She means she knows something is wrong. Look at you." You flap your wings and land on his head. His hair is soft under your little feet. You look down at him. "You're brooding."

He looks up at you and sighs. It felt strange having you on his head like this. You've never done that before. Perhaps you're getting a little bold these days.

Like when you hugged him.

Death chuckles softly. "Your dear raven is right. I know you, Dream."

"I don't know what's wrong, but... You're right. Something is the matter."

Death sits back and shows him she's listening. You remove yourself from atop his head and occupy the little space between them.

"When they captured me, I just had one thought. Vengeance. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd expected. Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did. I'm now more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet..."

He goes silent. Death understands. She leans forward again. "Here you are, feeding the pigeons."

"You see, until then, I'd had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function, and then suddenly, it was over, and... I felt disappointed. Let down. Empty."

You look up at Morpheus as he speaks from the heart. You feel sad he couldn't confide in you about any of this, but at least he has his sister to talk to. You resist the urge to nuzzle his arm with your head to comfort him.

"Does that make sense?" He asks, looking at his sister. "I was so sure that once I got everything back, I'd feel good. But in some ways, I feel worse than when I started. I feel like... Nothing. There. You asked."

You hop up onto his knee and look up at him. He glances down at you. Death smiles at you. She always knew you two shared a close bond. She can see there's something new in his eyes when he looks at you.

"You could have called me, you know." Death tells him.

"I didn't want to worry you." He says back.

"Oh, I don't believe it. Let me tell you something, Dream." She takes the bread from his hand. You hop off his knee and look up at Death. "And I'm only going to say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven't got the balls to go out and find a new one. You're as bad as Desire. No, worse."

Death throws the bread back at him, and he catches it. You laugh. Dream looks at you as if you had betrayed him. You stop laughing and look at him sheepishly.

"Has he been like this the entire time?" Death asks.

"Mostly. I mean, he did help me a lot, but even that finished..." You say. "He's been helping me with my transformations."

"Transformations?" Death asks.

"Yeah. I have a human form now." You tell her.

"You do? Interesting." She smiles. "How is life treating you then?"

"Uh, fine. I've... I've been through a lot, but I suppose everyone in the Dreaming has."

Death continues to smile at you and then looks at her brother. She sighs. "Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?" She asks.

"I didn't think you-"

"Exactly. You didn't think."

The ball comes flying again, and this time, Death catches it. Morpheus lowers his gaze to pigeons in front of him. While Franklin, the young man playing ball, talks to Death, you look at Morpheus.

"You're as good as your... friend there."

"He's not my friend. He's my brother. And he's an idiot."

You resist laughing while the mortal is present. Morpheus knows you want to react to that.

"I'm just feeding the birds." Morpheus says.

"Look, I can't stay here all day. I've got work to do. You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk." Death tells him.

"I'll come with you, I suppose." He replies.

"Well, don't do me any favours." She smiles at him. As Morpheus rises she chuckles.

You prepare to fly off back to the Dreaming when Morpheus turns around and looks at you. "Aren't you coming too?" He asks.

You look up at him and then at Death.

"Uh... won't it be strange if I'm flying behind you all the time?"

"You could come with me as a human. You mastered that ability." He says.

"Yeah, but... I... Don't you prefer it when I'm a raven?" You ruffle your feathers.

"I like you in any form." He says to you softly.

"Oh. Uh..."

Death smiles softly. "You're welcome to come too. I'd quite like to see the new you."

You feel embarrassed. There's a look in Dream's eyes that tells you he really wants you to come with him.

You sigh and fly behind the tree nearby. As you come back around, you're human again. You're wearing the clothes Dream gave you. You look up shyly at the siblings.

Death looks really excited at seeing you like this.

Dream looks... happy. His eyes seem to light up.

You follow them awkwardly. As Death says, she'll see Franklin soon.

Morpheus glances at you behind them, wondering if his request for you to join them made you uncomfortable. You look nervous. Shy, even.

Death takes you both on a walk. It's a sunny day, and there's lots of things going on here and there. She stops at a stall and looks at the apple.

"Three please."

"None for me, thank you," Morpheus says.

"You could have it later," Death suggests. He just looks at her. "Just two then."

The vendor chooses 2 apples for her and hands them over. She smiles and turns, holding one out for you.

You look at it.

"Go on, you'll like it." She smiles at you.

You glance up at Morpheus, who watches you silently. You reach out and take the apple. Death smiles and loops her arm with her brother as they continue walking. She bites into the apple.

You stare at yours. You haven't really done anything human. It didn't dawn on you to try. You bring the apple to your lips and take a bite. It's juicy and crunchy. You chew it slowly, tasting it.

You don't miss the way the siblings glance at you before carrying on.

You chew the apple slowly. You like it.

"You are good with them," Morpheus says to his sister.

"Apples?"

"Humans." He clarifies.

Death holds up the apple to him. "Bite?"

"No, thank you."

You take another bite from your own apple, savouring the taste. You may not have experienced a lot of human foods, but you think apples might be your favourite.

"Have you seen any of the others since you've been back?" Death asks Dream. He confirms he hasn't. Death mentions the last dinner they had together.

You continue to enjoy the apple as you look around and follow them. All these people around you were going places, doing things. You were experiencing life in the waking world for the first time properly. Sure, you've been here as a raven, but you never really took the time to just enjoy it. To watch them.

Maybe this human side of you would help you learn more about them.

You hear Death tell Dream he was missed, along with their missing brother who left some time ago. When he keeps quiet, she teases him by pretending he's asking her questions and then she answers them.

You smile. It must be nice having a sibling.

Morpheus finds it amusing and looks at her, asking, "How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?"

"I'm worried about my brother." She replies. "And I'm enjoying this apple." She turns around and looks at you. "You enjoying yours?" She asks.

"Oh, yes." You nod. She can see you've eaten more than half of it. She smiles.

"Don't hide back there. Come join us. He has two arms, you know." She chuckles.

You feel yourself become shy again. You're not sure what's got into you. Normally, you don't become so embarrassed. You decide to join them on Dream's other side, but you don't dare touch him.

Morpheus notices this.

As you walk a little further along, you hear violin music coming from an open window above you. The three of you stop to listen.

"I know this piece." Morpheus says softly. "I haven't heard it in 200 years."

"Come on." Death urges him softly to follow her. You fall behind them again, heading inside with the siblings.

You dispose of the last of your apple.

The violin music plays as you enter the apartment. When you reach the room, it's being played from, it stops as the man coughs. Death approaches the man.

"Don't stop, please." She says gently.

You stand behind Dream as you watch her talk to him. The conversation is gentle and warm. You've never seen her at work before. She's so delicate and comforting with them.

She lets the man say a prayer before he takes her hand.

Morpheus looks at you as she goes into the other room with him. You can hear her wings.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

You look up at him. "Yes."

Death returns. You smile at her. She smiles at you. She reaches for your arm this time, and you walk with her back outside.

"Does my brother treat you well?" She asks as you walk along a bridge.

"Yes. He's a very good ruler, and I do my best to serve him as he expects." You say to her.

"But is that all?"

"What do you mean?" You look at her. You're aware of Dream following you both from behind. Surely he can hear you both talk.

"Did you ever question your death?"

You look at her. She smiles.

"Of course I did... I... Alex Burgess shot me. I died. Then I woke up in the Dreaming... as a human..."

Death's smile remains on her face. "That was me."

"Huh?"

Dream raises his head up when he hears that. He was listening.

"You have served my brother since the very beginning. You've seen all he has seen. You have been by his side all this time."

"Yes..."

"He relies on you. He cares for you. There is no bond with the one you both have together. So, how can I ever take that away from him?" She asks.

"I don't understand..."

"I love my brother. I do. I want him to be happy." You wonder if she realises he can hear all this. "Taking you away broke him, so I had to give you back."

You stare at her as you both come to a stop. She begins to remove her boots. You glance behind you and find Morpheus looking at you. You turn away.

Death doesn't say any more on the matter. She leads the way down to a grassy bank. You find yourself walking beside Dream again.

A young man has drowned in the canal. You watch Death do her job.

"Did you know?" You ask, not looking at Morpheus.

"No."

You watch the wife of the man run to her husband's body and cry. People gather around. You drop your gaze.

"But I am glad," Dream says.

You lift your eyes to look at him. The sound of wings flapping in the background.

Death watches you both from where she stands. The way her brother looks at you can't possibly be mistaken for anything else. She smiles softly. You two still have so much to learn about each other.

You end up following the siblings again while they talk. Dream tells Death it was her Burgess was after. She knew.

He then asks her how she's does it.

Death confides in him about how she feels about her role. "I have a job to do. And I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I'll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights and... lock the universe behind me when I leave."

You listen to her talk. A part of you wonders what it would be like if she were your master. How would you contribute to her role. What would it be like to be there when people die.

"I'm not there for all of them. There are exceptions." She says. "Mad Hettie. And then there's your ongoing project."

You look up when she says that.

"How's he faring up after all this time?"

"Who? Hob Gadling?"

You smile. It's been a while since you saw Hob. You smile at all the times you would have to sit outside on the windowsill listening to Hob and Dream talk.

"I was forced to miss our last appointment." Dream tells her.

"Well, I'm sure he'd love to see you." Death looks at him. "Maybe take her with you. She could meet him properly."

Dream knows Death is talking about you.

"They're never too keen to see me, though."

"Does it not bother you?" Dream asks.

"I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family."

"Oh, did you?" Dreams looks amused.

"They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear."

"And yet I am far more terrible than you." He says.

You chuckle softly. He hears your laughter and smiles softly. He did that. He made you laugh.

They talk some more. A they do, you begin to wonder more about the world and the people. You've seen their dreams. Their hopes and fears.

You wouldn't mind spending more time among them, watching and learning.

You hear Death confess that she had thought about giving up. Dream looks bewildered by her statement.

You follow her into a house and find yourself freezing at the door. Morpheus sees the crib and then looks at you. Death gives you an apologetic look as she picks up the baby.

Morpheus comes to stand in front of you. You find yourself startled as he reaches for your hand. You look up at him.

The sound of wings fills the back of your mind.

Life was unfair sometimes.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You nod silently.

His hand doesn't leave yours. Not even when you both leave the house with Death. You've fallen quieter than him. He keeps an eye on you as you walk. Your hand in his.

He remains beside you as you continue to follow Death. Dream learns a lot from his sister. He learns a lot about humanity. He learns a lot about you.

The way people react to his sister's gift. The way she smiles and gives them her hand.

Life and death.

He sees the way you watch her. The way you watch the people. Every single one is different. Different backgrounds, different releions, different stories.

He wonders if you like being human, or do you still prefer your feathers and your wings.

Eventually, you slowly start to make your way back to the park. You're wrapped your arm around Dream's, having not let go of him the entire time.

Death walks beside him, talking to him still.

"I used to think I had to do this all by myself."

"But you do."

"No. At the end, I'm there with them. I'm holding their hand and they're holding mine. I'm not alone when I'm doing my job. And neither are you. Think about it. The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We're here to serve them."

Dream listens to her.

"It isn't about quests or finding purpose outside our function. Our purpose is pur function. We're here for them. Since I figured that out, I realised I need them as much as they need me."

Morpheus seems pleased by her words.

"I've seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I've learned so much. Lots of people don't have a job they love doing, do they? So, I think I'm really very lucky."

You smile. She liked her job. You like yours. You glance up at Morpheus, who looks like he's thinking. You like being his raven, his companion.

"Listen, I've got to head back soon."

Morpheus takes her hand with his free one and looks at his sister. "You've taught me something I have forgotten. I thank you, my sister."

Death smiles at Dream.

"Aw. That's what family's about, little brother."

Death turns her gaze to you, who still slings to her brother's arm. "Look after him, won't you?"

You smile. "Yeah. I will."

She then turns back to Dream. "And you look after her. You lost her once. Don't let her get harmed again."

"I have no intention of it," Dream says. He looks at you softly.

There's a screech of a car, and then Franklin comes over when he sees Death and starts talking to her. Dream smiles and starts guiding you away.

Death calls out to him. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He nods and continues leading you away.

"Where are we going?" You ask softly.

"I'm late for an appointment, and I want you to come with me." He says.

You smile as you walk with him.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess - @mystic-mara -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #the sandman #female reader #dragon writes

155 notes · View notes

kooktrash · 2 years

Text

♡ electra heart ♡ | kim taehyung

summary ♡ just dumped by his cheating ex girlfriend, taehyung seeks help from the campus primadonna to make his ex jealous. y/n is spoiled, mean and filthy rich—everything his ex loathed. what happens when the two form a pretend relationship that leaves their hearts in great turmoil? welcome to the life of electra heart ♡

[primadonna—marina and the diamonds, {i know I’ve got a big ego, don’t know why it’s such a big deal though}] [bubblegum bitch {I’ll chew you up and spit you out, cause that’s what young love is all about}]

warnings: 12.5k. fake dating. idiots to lovers. smut. angst. mentions of cheating. tae gets cheated on. y/n is filthy rich and can be a bitch. missionary. kinda passionate. oral [f recieving] ex girlfriend ain’t shit. college au. light dirty talk if you squint. both have been heartbroken before. honestly kinda vanilla but rough? daddy issues. attachment issues. f!reader

There's very few things in this world that bring Taehyung to tears. These weren't even sad tears, he was just overwhelmingly pissed off. It's been a month and everyone tells him to get over it but how could he? His girlfriend of two years cheats on him for her stupid dance partner and he's just supposed to get over it? Pretend it never existed while they get to walk around campus like the happy couple? As if everyone didn't know she was in a relationship with Taehyung. As if there's not already talk of her infidelity? Of course he's mad. He's embarrassed. He's hurt.

"We just understand each other Tae, in a way you and I never would. I didn't mean to do this to you, it just sort of happened. Could we at least remain as friends?"

He scoffed out loud at the flashback. Like wow, how big of a dumbass did she play him for? Remain friends? Be for real Jisoo. Because he'd seriously just get over her betrayal so they could be friends.

"Incoming Bitch Alert, block his view," Jimin said forcing Namjoon to move in front of Taehyung. It only made him roll his eyes at their exaggerated efforts to not trigger him with the sight of his ex and her new boyfriend—or well, not new since they dated behind Taehyung's back for three months.

“You know, I've said this already but I'll say it again. A good rebound will really get you over her, y'know?" Jimin said as he threw his arm around Taehyung's shoulders as they headed to their next lecture. Namjoon shook his head, "Leave the guy to mourn, it's only been a month."

“Yeah, and you two talking about it every five seconds really isn't doing shit for me," Taehyung said clearly exasperated with the whole thing. He's tired of hearing about Jisoo. The more he hears about her the more difficult it is to not let his emotions go on a rampage. He just needed them to leave him alone to get over it on his own. He doesn't need their help. He doesn't need them bringing it up. He'll deal with it on his own, he's a big boy, shouldn't be hard.

“You're right, I'm sorry man, I'll stop talking about her," Jimin responded with an apology as he led the way to their lecture hall. It was some stupid prerequisite math class that clearly all of them have ignored until their last year of University. Jimin's grin widened as he took the other two down a row of seats exactly two rows behind the spectacle, "Look at the view."

Taehyung did as told following his friend's line of sight until he landed on two people drowning in Chanel couture. If he didn't know any better they'd look like they just hopped off a NY Fashion week catwalk. Namjoon spoke before Taehyung could and for that he was thankful. "You're obsession with Y/n L/n and her goons is getting scary Jimin. Besides, Y/n's too much of a snob to even look your way."

“I'd be a snob too if my father's net worth was in the millions," Jimin said completely dismissing everything else Namjoon said, "Plus it's not an obsession. It's an admiration. Unlike others who I will not name for personal reasons pertaining to my good friend Taehyung— Y/n doesn't pretend to be a saint. She's outwardly a brutal bitch and I applaud her for that. Too many girls act like the sweetest girls in the world only to stab you in the back. At least with her I know she'll tell it to my face."

“Way to generalize women," Taehyung pointed out as he set his laptop up for the lecture, "And just because you don't say Jisoo's name, doesn't mean I don't know who you're talking about."

“Never said it was about her but if the shoe fits," Jimin shrugged and the subject dropped. When the professor came in Taehyung tried focusing his attention on the lecture but it was hard when Jimin picked perfect seats to stare at the primadonna.

Taehyung knew you, not well but he's spoken to you before in passing. What he does know is what Jisoo used to tell him. The same old story of two best friends in middle school who took completely different paths in high school and University. In Jisoo's own words, 'Y/n ditched me for her rich friends and next thing you know I'm a nobody. That's why I hate her. She's the type to chew you up and spit you out when she's done.'

Taehyung obviously believed her at first. Jisoo was a sweet, fine arts major he met through theatre. She was kind and caring and was the exact type of person to betray your trust once she had it. Under the pretense of the 'sweet Angel' nobody would suspect her to be as ugly on the inside as she considered Y/n to be. Clearly you had been friends for a reason, except this time Jisoo had been on the outside of this so called cruelty you possessed.

As he studied you, he realized it was true that you could've hopped off the runway and came to class. With your Chanel black mini skirt, pink Chanel sweater, and silver Chanel charm bracelet, Taehyung could easily confuse you with a brand ambassador instead of a college student. You were clearly materialistic but that's all he could say on your character. He was done believing anything Jisoo said to him.

"Would it kill you to take your own notes?" Mira asked you once the lecture had been done and all you had managed to do was draw hearts and scribble your name in your notebook the entire time. You cling to her arm as the two of you begin to leave the auditorium, "Because I'm dumb. You know math isn't for me, please? I don't understand a thing that stupid ass professor says. I only understand the way you dumb down your notes for me."

"Why don't you just get your dad to pay him off for A's?" Mira joked as the two of you got to the door pushing past a group of three guys with your arms looped together at the elbows. You let out a dramatic sigh, "I tried but apparently that's illegal. Besides, straight A's is unrealistic. I'm a straight C student at best."

"Plus, my bestie is, like, Edison or something—" "Einstein?" "Yeah, exactly. You're really smart and you love me so you should tutor me—"

"No way! I love you but you're version of studying is taking five minutes to write down your objective then take a thirty minute online shopping break," Mira said only half joking. You stomped a foot in mini tantrum, "Fine. You suck anyway."

"Whatever, let's go to lunch before I starve to death and Jungkook eats all my teriyaki chicken."

You realized early on school just wasn't for you. It's not that you purposely chose to fail majority of your classes but more so information just didn't stick in your brain. Nothing processed and if it did and you'd do homework the right way, you'd bomb the test still. Though if you're being honest, you're not sure if you're good at anything.

You don't have a job. You don't do well in school. You don't know how to rely on anything but your dad's money so basically, you're a good-for-nothing.

"Need help?" A voice cut into your self deprecating thoughts and made you look up to the owner of it. You recognized him but he better not ask if you remember his name because you don't.

"No," You shook your head a little too quick to wave him off before whipping back around to face him, "We're in math together with professor dipshit, right?"

Taehyung's brows furrowed, "I think so?"

"Alright then help me find this book" You basically demanded as you showed him your phone screen where the text was pulled up. He narrowed his eyes trying to recognize the text before turning to look at you again, "You know you can find that book online for free, right?"

"Yeah but that just ruins the whole academia aesthetic, don't you think?" You asked and it gave him the opportunity to check you out. Sure enough, you were in a black and cream colored Prada preppy look today. He shrugged, "I guess? Come on, I'll show you where it's at."

"Thanks, you're a total doll. What's your name again?" You asked going on your phone to send texts as he led you to the right aisle. "Taehyung," he answered simply and he needs to explain himself. Yes this is the first time he's gone out of his way to actually talk to you but he's got a reason for it. He was just minding his business sitting over at the desk right by the aisle you had been searching through. You were mumbling to yourself and with the clack of your Miu Miu shoes he just couldn't concentrate, therefore he wanted to help you find whatever you were looking for and send you on your way.

"I'm Y/n," you said a little too late for him to remember you two were talking. He already knew your name but no way in hell was he going to admit that. As he turned down the right book aisle, his face turned to show distaste. Just down the other end was Jisoo and Hoseok. You noticed him hesitate but you went ahead and walked through anyway acting as if Jisoo wasn't even there. You didn't care enough about her to pay her any mind. She, on the other hand, had to do a double take when she caught Taehyung walking in with you.

"It should be around here," Taehyung said pointing to one of the book cases trying to ignore Jisoo there. You nodded taking a step back to get a better look and Taehyung tried helping you so he wouldn't look over at Jisoo knowing she was staring. You smiled widely hurrying to get closer as you reach an arm out to point, "I found it. Hold on."

He watched you stretch your arm up but it was just barely out of reach of your manicured nails and he moved closer to grab it. His side rubbed against yours unintentionally and he brought it down in front of you to your grabby hands. You cheered, "Yay, okay I'm gonna go buy it—"

"You could just borrow it from the library, I don't think they sell the books here. You'll have to go to the bookshop and order it to be shipped," Taehyung tried explaining but you were already to focused on the textbook. You waved a hand at him, "I'll forget to bring it back. Plus, they'll sell it to me, I'm very charming."

And rich, Taehyung thought but he only nodded watching you head off with a sway in your hips and he was hurrying to get away as fast as possible.

"Tae?" Crap.

"Hey," Taehyung said. Jisoo really did have the audacity to talk to him while the homewrecker was there. Still, he won't give her the luxury of knowing he's still hurt. Jisoo looked down the other end of the aisle where she got a clear view of you at the front desk chatting up with the librarian giving her compliments left and right.

"It's funny to catch you here, are you, um, are you friends with Y/n?" He visibly rolled his eyes at that as he looked to Hoseok who looked equally as uncomfortable as he did.

He opened his mouth to speak but he was immediately cut off by a hand on his arm pulling him back. He turned quickly, eyes widening at you holding a textbook and receipt, "Told you I'd get it, it's because of my charms—"

"Or your daddy's money," Jisoo cut in suddenly looking just as surprised as everyone else but her words. She didn't mean to say that out loud. Before Taehyung could even react, your eyes narrowed almost venomously, "Jisoo, jealousy and rudeness is ugly, but you manage to pull it off, don't you?"

"Just as ugly as your personality," Jisoo argued but you only smiled. "I think we both know there's nothing ugly about me." Taehyung looked back to you and yeah, nothing ugly about you. Not at all.

Jisoo looked to Taehyung to see if he'd say anything but he wouldn't. He wasn't her protective boyfriend anymore, Hoseok was and he was currently checking you out too.

You turned to Taehyung abruptly, "Can you help me find this one too?" You held up your phone and showed him another. With a small nod he was leaving his ex girlfriend for you.

It wasn't until later on in the day that he had a chance to talk to his friends about what happened in the library. Jimin looked excited listening to Taehyung's tale of the library incident and he practically cheered him on. Jimin pushed against his lunch tray creating a clanking noise that echoed in the lunch room, "Okay, okay, I've got the smartest idea ever!"

"What?" Namjoon asked slightly amused, slightly bored. Jimin grinned, "Jisoo hates Y/n so much so you should make her jealous. Let her see that you upgraded and chose someone better! Y/n is literally the perfect candidate. Jisoo loathes her and clearly Y/n gets under her skin over anything an—"

"No, I see where you're getting at and my answer is no," Taehyung shook his head as he got to his feet holding his empty tray, "I'm not using Y/n to make Jisoo jealous. I don't care how she feels and Y/n doesn't deserve being used like that."

"Bu—" Taehyung shut him up when he left to go discard his tray and leave the lunchroom. Was Jimin crazy? He didn't need anyone to fake date for Jisoo to know he's not still hung up on her. He's not hung up on her, he just can't wrap his mind around getting cheated on. That's what hurts.

The next time he saw you was in class and this time you were joined with a second goon. A guy with facial piercings and arm tattoos. Taehyung will admit, he didn't peg that guy as one of your friends, but then he saw the Vivienne Westwood necklaces the guy wore and it all became clear.

This time it was you who approached him first, Mira and Jungkook behind you as he started packing up after the lecture. You flashed him a pearly white smile, "Do you have a minute?"

Jimin and Namjoon shared a look before they began heading out leaving Taehyung behind. He nodded looking to your two friends in confusion. You cut in front of his vision, "So I was wondering if there was any way, you might tutor me? Mira hates me and Jungkook is just as dumb as me and I'm desperate for some help. I'll pay you and it can be whenever you're free."

So much was said to him in so little time it took him a second to wrap his mind around it all. He laughed nervously, "Tutor? Um, I'm not sure if I'm really cut up for the task."

"Ugh, please? Please with a cherry on top? Pretty please? Please?" You repeated over and over again, "Please?"

"Alright, alright, when were you thinking of getting started?" He asked with a defeated sigh. He caved and now he understood how your charms worked. You smiled widely, "Yay and um, now? Today? Yesterday? ASAP? Are you busy right now?"

"Uh, no I was just gonna do some homework before my next class bu—" "Perfect, okay I'll see you guys later, Taehyung and I are gonna study," You waved off the other two and they left with small hugs. He was quickly realizing you of you wanted something, you wanted it now. He looked at you debating if he was amused or exasperated but he still nodded, "Alright, should we go to the library?"

"It's too stuffy in there, how about a café? I'm in desperate need of coffee."

So that's what happened. He joined you at a café and you ordered you both drinks and pastries and when he offered to pay, you waved him off. "So, did you take any notes from today's lecture?"

"Uh, about that. Professor Dipshit talks so fast and his handwriting is so ugly I just can't get it all down," you handed him your notebook and he couldn't help but smile despite his confusion. You did get some things down but on the sides of the pages were little doodles. He hid his smile, "Professor Choi does write ugly so that's understandable. And it's okay, you can copy my notes and just ask me questions about whatever you're confused about. I'm gonna try and do some assignments in the meantime."

Your eyes softened. Wow, he agreed with you instead of lecturing you. You nodded taking his laptop and writing down the notes. You didn't actually ask him that many questions but it's probably because he'd broken his notes down for himself and you could understand them. He was a couple years ahead of you but he was in the class and clearly smarter than you. Despite the study session going perfect without a hitch in the road, it seemed like Taehyung was just forced to relive the constant flashback of catching Jisoo with Hoseok.

You noticed right away how Taehyung seemed to stiffen at the sight and when Jisoo turned to look at him and then glare at you, you knew something was up. You leaned into him, "So what's the deal between you and Jisoo?"

His brows furrowed. Did you really not know? "We dated." That made you even more confused as you shamelessly checking him out. For some reason the look in your eyes as you did so was enough to boost his confidence that Jisoo tore down. "Really? You're way hotter than her."

"Uh, thanks? We just had very similar interests and I don't know. It just happened," Taehyung said even though you didn't ask. You simply nodded in understanding before letting the topic drop. Taehyung took notice of the way you didn't try and talk about her more and it was like a breath of fresh air but he just had to know more. "So, uh, in the library the other day. You two were kind of hostile toward each other. Do you know her well too?"

You didn't shy away from talking despite Jisoo just feet away telling her order to the cashier. You wouldn't care if she heard you either. As a matter of fact, you hope she can hear you. You nodded, "We used to be classmates and we were super close around middle school until one day we got into this huge fight before high school. She said I would always leave her out to hang with Mira and Jungkook. I tried asking her to hang out and I'd even offer to pay and stuff but I guess it just wasn't enough. I felt bad because I didn't mean to make her feel that way but I guess I'm just an awful person so whatever. We drifted apart in high school and that was the end of that."

Taehyung was actually surprised with how open you were about things. He's not sure what made him be so open despite his embarrassment, "She cheated on me with Jung Hoseok."

"That bitch!" You said much louder than expected and heads turned including Jisoo's. Her brows furrowed and before Taehyung could tell you to bring it down, Jisoo was walking over with a plastered fake smile. "Funny seeing you two here."

"What do you want?" You asked looking up at her as Taehyung did too. Your hand was awfully close to his and as if sensing Jisoo's focus on it, you went ahead and reached for it and put your hand over his. He looked down at the way your small hand rested over his and he turned to Jisoo immediately.

"I was just surprised to see you two, I didn't know you were friends with Y/n, Tae," Jisoo said and he could tell she was annoyed. You rolled your eyes, "I'm confused, does it look like we care at all about what you don’t know?"

"Was I talking to you?" Jisoo asked narrowing her eyes at you before looking to Taehyung who didn't say anything. You smiled sweetly squeezing his hand, "You were talking around me so I answered. If you don't like it then that's not really my problem now is it?"

Taehyung bit his lip turning to Jisoo, "Y/n let's go somewhere else. It's crowded in here." Jisoo didn't move back as the two of you stood and Taehyung looked bored looking at her and it just confused her more and more. Since when were you Taehyung's type? You smiled and left.

"God, I can't stand cheaters," you said once you two were outside in the cold air that had you shivering. You turned to him immediately, "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. And sorry for holding your hand. I wanted her to get mad."

Taehyung was beginning to realize you weren't a bitch. Okay, scratch that, you kinda were but it wasn't for no reason. You were just brazenly honest and outspoken. You didn't care about being confronted and you didn't back down from it either. Yeah, you came off intimidating but you actually weren’t. Maybe you were just misunderstood.

"So, uh, just kick me in the balls if this is rude to say but... uh... clearly Jisoo seeing me with you pisses her off," Taehyung began and you were already amused, "So uh... you know... uh... I just don't want her to think I'm still hung up on her. And... I don't know—"

"Want me to be your fake girlfriend to make her regret ever cheating on someone as hot as you?" You said it like it was a small favor, "Yeah sure."

He practically short circuited trying to understand everything you said. Well you sure knew how to make a guy confident about his looks and he appreciated that. He's never been an insecure guy but after getting cheated on he's become one. Just constantly thinking about how he wasn't good enough. Still, he stares at you, "Really? Why are you so okay with me using you to make her jealous?"

"Because I don't care," you shrugged, "My dad’s always badgering me about a stupid boyfriend he approves but I don’t really care. And also I hate cheaters. Plus I'm bored and it sounds fun making someone who hates me just hate me more."

He couldn't believe everything you said. No, he didn't believe it. He's convinced you're playing a part, the primadonna. The 'big ego, no cares in the world, everything her way' type. It made it seem like you didn't have any dimension and he knew you did. Still, the vengeful side of him wanted to make her pay, "Okay, then that's my payment for tutoring you. Deal?"

"Let me pay you in cash," you said but he shook his head already walking ahead of you.

So it started. He came over to your penthouse apartment the next day in clear awe by everything inside it and the pool on the balcony. There was even someone in the kitchen cooking. You led him further in pointing to the woman in the kitchen, "Lee this is my boyfriend Taehyung. Taehyung this is Lee, she makes wonderful food."

The woman bowed in greeting and he did the same before following you up the marble staircase to the second floor.

"Sorry, Lee works for my dad so I made sure to say you're my boyfriend. I just love getting under his skin," you explained as he joined you in one of the rooms upstairs. It didn't seem like your bedroom since it was missing a bed but instead looked like an upstairs living room. He just nodded, "Are you close with your dad?"

"Not really," you said with a shrug already on your phone, "He just buys me whatever I want because he’s a shitty dad.”

jungkook: yacht party on Saturday

jungkook: who's coming

yoongi: not me. I'm planning on sleeping all weekend

mira: sleep with the sharks

you: me and my boyf :p

jungkook: WHOOOOO

you: :p

"What about your mom?" He asked trying to understand you better but the more you spoke the more confused he was. You came off as spoiled and a snob but at the same time you didn’t. Alright, you probably were spoiled but there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s the snob part that gets hate and now that he’s talked to you, you don’t even seem like that. You didn't bother looking up at him as you smiled at your friends responses. You shrugged, "Left one day after catching my dad sleeping with his secretary."

Well that explains why you're so willing to help make his cheating ex jealous. But still, he kinda felt bad involving you now. "Y/n—"

"I know so cliché," you rolled your eyes cutting him off before he could get sappy, "Like couldn't he cheat with anyone other than his secretary? Lacks originality if you ask me."

"Okay, here's the plan," you said smiling now and he almost couldn't keep up with your mood change, "Yacht party this weekend. We'll take couple pics, post on your socials and make sure Jisoo sees them. We'll probs have to post a kissing one or something to seem more believable."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked but you didn't even flinch. "What do you mean?"

"I mean come on, you say you're doing it cause you're bored and you want your dad to think you're in a relationship but why?" He asked moving closer to you so you couldn't hide behind your phone, "Why are you helping me? If you wanted your dad to think you're dating, you could have any guy you want. Isn't there someone you're into? I just feel bad using you."

“You’re not using me,” You rolled your eyes as if to say he was the one being unreasonable, "And because all the guys on campus are just... ugh. At least you're cute and not using me as a bragging right. Though if you do I'll hire someone to kill you and hide the body."

Part of him wanted to say he changes his mind. He can't use you for his stupid revenge because it wasn't it. The other part of him knew how much you got under Jisoo's skin and he wanted her to feel angry about it. He wanted her to see that he did in fact trade her in for someone better and he wants her to hurt like he did. Who better to use than the girl everyone loves and loves to hate? He knows he's being petty but it's just not fair. What did he lack that made Jisoo cheat on him?

On Saturday he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone was in designer swimwear including yourself while he wore something from the department store. Of course you told him it didn't matter because you were hotter than the other guys and it did make him feel a little better but not much. He tried not to think about how shameless you were with compliments. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who falls for you. Everyone knows you’re a heartbreaker and he can see why. You’re just so… he can’t explain it, there’s just something about you and it wasn’t just your looks or your money. Still, he’s gotta not let what you say get to his head. You said it yourself, you're only doing this cause you're bored so he needs to take what you say lightly.

"So you're Y/n's new boy toy," Yoongi said shortly after you introduced them to each other before leaving to take pictures with some of your other friends. Taehyung stood against the railing of the yacht when Yoongi approached him. His eyes narrowed clearly taking offense to that, "And you are?"

"I'm one of Y/n's friends, Yoongi," the guy said in greeting and Taehyung just nodded making him laugh, "Relax. I was kidding. Well I wasn't but who cares. Where is Y/n anyway?"

Taehyung pointed you out just as you took a picture with two guys and Yoongi smacked his lips, "Better be careful. Y/n's a slippery one. She gets bored easily." The guy left at that and though Taehyung didn't want to listen to him he suddenly grew worried. You were supposed to be fake dating, right? So he should be the one taking pictures with you. Yeah, that's right. He's here to make Jisoo jealous and he can't do that from all the way over here.

"Let's take a picture," Taehyung said confidently entrusting Mira with his cellphone cutting in between you and the other guys who glared at him. "Taehyungie!" You threw your arms around his neck, "Everyone move, I need pictures with my boyfriend."

Hey. Why'd he like that? Jisoo hated PDA and though he wasn't a huge fan, he liked people knowing he was in a relationship despite how private it might be. Just so people could back off though that never stopped Hoseok. The first picture was cute, a simple smiling one and the second was of you cupping his chin forcing him to make a pout with mad eyebrows while you smiled brightly. Jisoo always took serious pictures and it was always a one and done thing.

Next, he surprised himself by kissing your forehead as you smiled into the camera, hand on his chest while his was around your waist. It’s just, he could acting affectionate with you even if it’s fake. With Jisoo everything they did was always stiff. He was beginning to understand how he wasn’t as happy with Jisoo at the end of the relationship.

Mira groaned, "Ugh how many more? You two are making me sick."

"One more," you said and before Taehyung could figure out what the next one was, you were leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He reacted almost immediately, bringing you closer letting himself kiss you back. It was longer than necessary for a picture. You pulled away turning to Mira and taking Taehyung's phone. You began scrolling through the pictures while Taehyung wiped your lip gloss off the corners of his numb lips. It felt like every guy on the boat was glaring at him, and they were.

The next time you two acted like a couple was at a party. Taehyung was nervous at first because he knew Jisoo would be here and probably with Hoseok. You were dressed in a lavender colored mini dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was hard for him not to notice you when you just grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Jisoo’s here,” you whispered into his ear as his arm went around your waist. So far, Jisoo hasn’t seen you two outwardly act like a couple. She did look at Taehyung’s Instagram story where he posted the two pictures where you kissed and cupped his face in a cute way. Still there’s no way to tell how she felt about it but now she’d get a good view of them now.

Jimin and Namjoon seemed just as surprised as everyone else when he posted those pictures of you and when they came over they looked ready to ask all the questions. You must’ve sensed it because with a press of your lips on his cheek you were moving away, “I’m gonna get a drink.”

He waited for you to go before turning to his friends. Jimin smacked his arm, “You sneaky little shit! Never though to tell us how you managed to pull Y/n. I thought she wasn’t your type.”

“I never said that,” Taehyung said nervously as he felt Jisoo’s stare at him from across the floor. The music was loud and there were a lot of people but you didn’t seem shy at all. He knows this isn’t your scene. Your scene is parties on a yacht and beach parties, not college parties in someone’s dingy apartment. Still, he’s thankful you didn’t seem all that bothered by it. Sure, the second you walked you basically gagged at the smell of beer and sweat but you’ve been holding up pretty well. Even if he did see you pull out a hand wipe to rid yourself of germs and clutched your wallet closer. Now your wallet is in his pocket. God Forbid anything happened to your dad’s Gold and Black express card for the ultra rich.

“Well you sure as hell acted like it whenever I talked about my Queen. Also, kinda mad at you for stealing my crush but I forgive you because you’ve been having shitty luck with girls,” Jimin said and that made Taehyung gulp. How can he tell his best friend you’re only fake dating? Sure, Jimin had originally come up with the idea but it’s embarrassing to actually go through with it.

“I know Jisoo is shitting bricks over it,” Namjoon said with a little laugh, “She hates Y/n.”

Jisoo had always been one of those ‘peace&love’ girlies who preached positivity and women supporting women. Yet she never had a problem ranting to Taehyung about how materialistic and a bitch you were. She’d practically slut shame you any chance she had and Taehyung wouldn’t do anything but listen to his girlfriend complain. Now he obviously feels bad for not speaking up but what would he have even said when he knew nothing about you at the time to form his own opinion?

He also notices that Jisoo was more obsessed with talking about you than you were with her. It’s like you didn’t even talk about her unless it was about him and he found himself happy to know you were defensive and sort of protective over him.

“Talking about me?” You asked sauntering over in your pretty dress that made Taehyung bring his cup to his lips to avoid from letting his jaw drop. Jimin practically stuttered, “I-I’m Jimin.”

You smiled almost teasingly, “I know. TaeTae talks about you two all the time.” They looked at Taehyung with furrowed brows as if asking, TaeTae? but all he did was shrug. He’s getting used to it but he won’t deny it sounded way more affectionate than Tae—which was what Jisoo called him. Plus it seemed like the exact kind of nickname you’d call him like when you call your friends baby or refer to strangers as Queen, Kings, and Royals for inclusivity. You talked like a California valley girl always saying ‘like’ or ‘duh’ sometimes ‘obvi’.

“Give me,” Taehyung reached for your cup and you tilted it against his lips but you took him by surprise when you pressed your lips against his practically taking back whatever was poured down his throat. It was nasty but in a hot way and it definitely caused a shock factor.

His friends in particular looked a mixtures off confused and slightly intrigued or jealous but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. Namjoon was the first to look away, “I need a drink,” and Jimin followed.

“Is Jisoo still looking?” You said between a kiss and it took him a second to process what you had said, still kissing you. He pulled away, “Hm?”

“Jisoo Dummy, is she still staring?” You asked, hand on his neck trailing down over his shirt almost teasingly. He brought his cup up to quench his dry throat as his eyes scanned over the group of people and sure enough, she was. Oh yeah. That’s why you kissed. Haha.

“Yeah,” he said pressing his lips against yours again, a little tongue poking out to lick against yours one last time before pulling away. This time, instead of wiping your gloss off himself, you ran your thumb over his soft lips until it was off him.

“Careful baby,” you said with that teasing smile as his hand rested on your lower back just above your butt, “Kiss me again and I think you might fall for me.”

“Can’t have that, can we? You’ll break my heart,” he’s not sure why he said that nor why it bothered him that you didn’t deny it.

You two stayed against the wall for majority of the night. His hands kept finding ways to touch you and you did the same. It was easy to believe you were a real couple aside from your occasional comments about someone being hot that did get under his skin just a little. He just had to keep reminding himself none of it was real. That you were simply doing him a favor.

He wasn’t paying enough attention to his surroundings when a group of people passed extremely close to you two. It wasn’t until one of the girls passing had been shoved by her friend, and clear liquid went flying straight toward you two, mostly you. It seemed to go quiet for a second as your jaw dropped in clear shock. The cold liquid smelled of Vodka and it splashed onto the top of your dress down your cleavage.

“Oh my god, Y/n, I’m so sorry,” the girl stuttered holding her empty cup. Taehyung stiffened as your eyes turned razor sharp glaring at the girl. The nice smile you once had replaced by a deep scowl. Taehyung reached for you but you shooed his hands away. Without another word you tilted your cup splashing her with alcohol too and everyone gasped but no one said anything to you. You crushed the cup dropping it on the floor as you smiled tightly, “There, we’re even right?”

The girl didn’t say anything, still holding her wet clothes away from her body. Hers had been an accident but yours was completely on purpose. Though, everyone knows you could’ve handled that much more viciously so nobody argued. You looked at her, “Right?”

“Right,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, “But maybe you should get friends who don’t get you in trouble, right?”

“Y/n,” Taehyung said but you brushed him off. “I want to go, now.” He nodded pushing off the wall and leaving with you, “You didn’t have to do th—“

“I don’t care,” you said walking ahead of him to the door, “It was her fault anyway.”

“Yeah bu—“

“Oh my God Taehyung I don’t need you lecturing me. I don’t care. I don’t feel bad and nothing you say will change my mind. If you don’t like it then you can leave me alone,” you said crudely. It was like a flip was switched and this was the first time Taehyung saw firsthand how mean you could be.

“I don’t care about what you say either then,” Taehyung didn’t back down as the two of you went to his car, “I know you regret blowing up because you’re not a mean person unless provoked.”

You scoffed, “That’s what you thin—“

“I know,” he argued, “So stop making yourself the bad guy because you’re upset. It was an accident and you know it.”

“If you’re not gonna shut up about it then I’ll just walk home,” you said stubbornly and it was driving him crazy. But he wasn’t regretting being with you? He knows you’re not mean like that. You just snapped before you could think and because everyone’s used to it they didn’t expect anything different. You’re not like that. Not once since he’s hung out with you have you been rude to anyone but Jisoo so he refuses to believe you’re just a bitch because you can be.

His silence was annoying you and so you turned and started walking. He wanted to rip his hair out. Why were you being so difficult and why did he care about his pretend girlfriend acting out? He groaned in frustration as he went after you. “Y/n, get your ass in the car.”

“No,” you said but before you could make it another step, an arm was around your waist pulling you back and your feet lifted off the ground. “Put me down!”

“Alright, once we get to the car,” he said carrying you to it, “You wanna be rude that’s fine but you’re not doing it with me. So sit down and drop the attitude. I’m taking you home.”

He huffed in annoyance as he slammed your door shut and made his way around to his side. There’s no way his pretend girlfriend was getting him so worked up. And why was he putting up with the attitude when he could’ve easily let you go?

It went on like this for a few days. For some reason, you were a great pretender. Nobody could even tell you weren't actually dating, not even Jimin or Namjoon. And okay, one could say you actually were together but you both knew that's not true. When he went shopping with you, you shamelessly flirted with another guy in front of him. It's not like any of them knew about your deal so you didn't care. He didn't care either. You urged him to get the number of one of the baristas one day while studying and he's not sure why but he did. He never even called or texted the girl. And you two seemed to just never speak about what happened at the party. The next day you were all smiles on FaceTime showing him all the clothes and shoes you’d just bought and he was telling you which ones were his favorite.

He knew it really was getting under Jisoo's skin, mostly because she wasn't hiding it. Suddenly she's bumping into him all the time, trying to talk to him, anything when after they broke up she avoided him. It drove her crazy knowing he was with you, especially after the night of the party

Taehyung hated rude people and yet he let you get away with being a snobby bitch at the party. Of course she didn’t know how he gladly told you what you did was wrong but she hated that he just… didn’t care? One time Jisoo was rude to a sever because she was on her period and Taehyung was genuinely upset with her because of it. Why did you just get to get away with it? He just seemed willing to put up with you more than he ever did with Jisoo.

And now he was having dinner with you and your dad at some expensive restaurant with aquariums between every booth. He'd never even met Jisoo's parents in the two years he dated her. He tried not to talk too much but your father was relentless, "So Taehyung, what do your parents do?"

"You don't have to answer that," you said and for some reason, Taehyung was able to notice your bitter mood today. Your dad scoffed, "He does if he's going to date my daughter."

"They're farmers sir," Taehyung said and suddenly it went quiet with you looking at him now too. Your father just nodded, "Farming? Are they part of the Agriculture Union?"

"No sir, they are independently farmers. We only have an acre of farm land but since we lived in the countryside it supplies us really well," Taehyung told him despite sensing your father's disapproval. Why would you choose him if your dad clearly didn't like anything he was saying? He felt his nerves growing as if he should seek your father's approval even if you weren't actually dating.

"Oh my God," you said suddenly, "I wanna visit some time." He didn't know if you were being serious or not but he took pride in it anyway. Your father on the other hand, snickered, "You can't wear Jimmy Choo's in dirt. You wouldn't survive a day doing hard labor. So tell me Taehyung... and you can be honest with me. I prefer it that way."

"Why are you with my daughter?" He asked Taehyung, "What does some farm boy probably here on a scholarship want with Y/n? Hoping to leach off her allowance?"

"Wow dad, way to be supportive," you said suddenly, "You know what? Why don't you write a check and send him on his way, while you're at it. And don't say you haven't done that before."

"For your own good. You love to help the less fortunate and then what happens? You get bored and come crawling back asking for a new handbag," your dad said looking to Taehyung now, "You hear that? She trades in boys as much as she does shoes so if you think some guy from a small farm has a ch—"

"Y/n, we're leaving," Taehyung stood suddenly, "Get your things and let's go."

Your dad only laughed some more as you quickly stood never seeing Taehyung so serious. He took your hand in his while the other went to your lower back and he turned to glare at your father, "You know, not everything is about money and if you realized that sooner then you'd understand what it means to want to be with someone because you care about them. And I doubt you have the decency to treat any woman with respect enough to love them and not tear them down."

You didn't even have time to process what Taehyung just said before he was pulling you away. It wasn't until the two of you were outside that he cracked, "Fuck Y/n I am so sorry. I am so sorry, fuck I didn't mean to talk to your dad like that but it just pissed me off so much. He has no right to talk about you in that way even if he's your father, not after everything he's done to ruin your family an—Oh God, I am so fucking sorry."

"I'm sorry."

He quite literally froze on the spot. He turned to you with confused written all over his face and it wasn't until he paid closer attention that he realized you were crying. Oh fuck he's made you cry. Immediately he went to you, "Hey, hey, look I'm sorry. I have no right to say anything about you or your family. You can tell your dad you dumped me for being rude an—"

"I don't care about that," you said pushing him away, "I'm sorry that he said those things about you and your parents. It was mean and you didn't deserve that. It's what he does. He knows every woman in his life can't stand him and I'm the only one he has control over so he ruins everything. He should've never brought it u—"

He shut you up the only way he knew how now. With his hands cupping your face and his lips pressed against yours. He didn't care what your dad said and how much money he had. How could a guy not born into money care about things like that? After blowing up on your dad instead of being mad, you cried because you thought your dad hurt his feelings. You put him first before yourself even if your dad punished you for Taehyung's outburst. Maybe that's why you chose to go along with Taehyung, because your dad was the way he was but he didn't care. All he cared about was how everyone painted you the bitch, the primadonna, the spoiled one when deep down you actually cared a lot. And okay, yes, you could be mean, he gets that now and he’s willing to get you to not let your emotions run your mood with everyone.

Neither one of you seemed to care about being on the sidewalk until a car honked at the two of you and you were pulling away. He took your hand, "I'll take you home."

The ride was quiet but not in a bad way. There was like a shift in the atmosphere and Taehyung didn't want you to go. So, when he pulled up to your apartment and you hesitated, "Want to come in?" He was quick to say. "Let me park."

He didn't even give you time to respond before he was driving away to the parking garage. Once he found a spot the two of you stepped out and headed up the elevator neither saying anything now. When you unlocked your front door you asked, "Want anything to drink?"

It seems like neither one of you were ready to actually say anything more other than what was surface level. Still, the both of you seemed to be walking the usual path upstairs but instead of staying in the living room you walked to your bedroom. He followed after and watched you sit on your bed. You pat the spot next to you and he's quick to sit. This time, you're the one to make the move bringing his lips to hers. He only pecked your lips softly, testing the waters for this moment right here.

As if finding the answers he captured your lips in an intense kiss letting himself melt into it. It's kind of like the first kiss you shared on the yacht. Your hand was on his neck now as his lips started moving against yours hungrily. You could barely match his pace despite initiating the kiss. It made you smile into at the thought that he was eager.

Taehyung soon parted your lips slightly with his and you felt his wet tongue dart out to slide against mine gently.

You began leaning back making him follow after you until you were lying in your bed with Taehyung hovering over you. He pulled back looking down at you with round eyes. You smiled, "Why'd you stop?"

He laughed softly at your forwardness before remembering your current situation. He dipped his head lower until his mouth pressed against your neck. He lifted his hand off the bed slipping towards your jaw as he grabbed it and titled your head backwards to get better access. Your lips came up around him making him lay between them and making the kiss a little more intimate. He kissed up to your neck until he was at your jaw.

Taehyung left soft kisses along the curve of your before breaking away to meet your lips again. Your hands ran over his shirt until you were inching it up his back forcing him to step back until you took it off him. He smiled, "It's just like you to get straight to the point."

"Right now I want you. Can't I show it?" you asked and for some reason that made his heart jump. He didn't say anything instead reaching for your shirt and lifting it off too. He could be just as forward as you. His hands were at your sides immediately trailing to your rib cage as he leaned back down to capture you in a kiss again.

He slid them over your bra and without thinking, squeezed a little. His eyes were closed so he felt around blindly when you pushed them further into his hands as he slid it down.

To be honest, you didn't expect him to be as forward as he was but you definitely liked it. Never one to shy away from getting sexual you were pulling on your skirt making him moved down to help you take it off. He went ahead and unbuttoned his jeans too kicking them off before moving to crawl over you again. Before he could you were pushing him down and straddling his lap moving to untie your bra leaving you in just your underwear. His eyes darted to look at every exposed part of your body not shy to stare are your breasts in awe. His lips parted slightly as you leaned back down connecting yours to them.

He let his hands cup your tits feeling the softness of them on his palms, digging his fingers in just slightly. Taehyung's hips began to move on their own, lightly bucking against you. Your underwear was tiny, barely covering anything and yet it's what he expected you to wear. Not that he's thought about you naked, maybe. But it's just that you're the bold type and that's what made you attractive. With only your underwear and his in the way, he could feel almost everything including the way he was basically humping right between your entrance toward your clit. The makeout was quickly escalating and his member was hardening rather quickly.

You moaned softly as his thumbs ran over your nipples and his tongue teased yours slightly messy. Taehyung's covered member was hitting against your clit to the point where you found yourself matching his movements. You wanted him now and for more than just kissing, so you began to slide off him. His head follows yours so the kiss wouldn't break but you pushed against his chest to keep him down. Your hand traces down his body and reaches the over his clothed cock palming him firmly. Taehyung instantly sighs at the touch letting himself relax back down.

Your head reaches his dick and you slowly pull down his briefs solely focused on what you were about to do exposing his hard dick. You smiled looking up at him anything but innocent. He waits to see what you do next and his breath hitched as you reach for his member bringing it closer to your face. Just like that, your tongue was licking along the length.

When you reached the tip you put in your mouth, lips suctioning around the head letting your tongue swipe against the slit. He was in Head Heaven, your mouth felt so warm and wet. His hand moved into your hair not pulling it just keeping your head in place when you began to bob. Your jaw relaxed some more and you were able to move your tongue down his side playing with the extra skin.

"Fuck" Taehyung moans, "You're sucking my cock so good, fuck Y/n." His hand started to bob your head up and down at a faster pace while your hand made a fist around what ever didn't fit in your mouth. His hips met your mouth soft making him hit the back of your throat and he watched closely as you took him in. He wouldn't last long, "I'm close."

You made sure to add more tongue as you wanted him to break apart in your mouth and went rougher. He gripped your hair even tighter, and that excited you knowing he was close. As if reading your mind, he was tapping your cheek lightly, "I want you to ride me. Now."

You didn't pull back even as he moved to sit up making him hiss in pleasure, "Y/n, wait..." Your hand lowered to his balls and with that he knew he had to have you now. He was gripping your hair lightly pulling you back with his hand on your arm to lift you and this time you moved. "Condom?" He asked you and you went straight to your nightstand to grab one.

He took it from you patting your thigh letting you know he wanted you on the bed now. You lied on your pillows as he slipped the condom on stroking himself gently as he made his way between your legs. One hand pushed against the bed near your head and his other lined his member with your pussy. Taehyung's hair was covering your view of his eyes but you could see the way he licks his lips, his tip pressing against your clit watching your hips buck up for more friction. Without wasting another member, he was costing his cock with your slick and sinking into your entrance slowly. His eyes train on yours as he slowly starts moving his hips testing to see how much he could move. You wrapped a hand behind his neck making him lean down and his hips began moving more firmly. His knees pressed into the mattress just below your vent legs and he thrusted more intentionally now.

Taehyung's chest pressed against your t his head fall between your shoulder and neck but turned his head to capture your lips. You moaned bro find a hand down to his lower back, "Harder."

That made him groan, sucking harshly on your neck as he began a rhythmic stroke, roughly fucking you. Neither one of you were necessarily talkers during sex but with the mix of grunts and moans there wasn't much to be said. You both felt so fucking good and your legs wrapped around his waist trapping him in to brutally fuck you.

"Fuck," he growled, hand suddenly going behind your head forcing it against his neck as he lifted your body every time he rocked into you. You couldn't help but moan at the sudden aggressiveness and welcomed it eagerly. You were close. You haven't had sex in a couple months and Taehyung just felt so good. You've been worked up since the second you started making out.

"I'm gonna cum," you panted sound muffled against his hot neck but his hand gripped your hair pulling you away.

"Kiss me," he all but demanded changing his rhythm to be slow but still rough letting you feel every inch. You did as told kissing him hard as he began rutting up his entire body to get deeper, hitting all the right places.

"Cum," he whispered against your lips and it was the only thing you needed to hear before tightening your walls around him with a whine. He groaned loudly against your lips, falling right behind you releasing into the condom. Your body trembled slightly coming down from your high and he let you cling to him.

He pulled away from your bruising lips looking down at you all fucked out. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he moved his hand from behind your head and pushed against the bed to lift himself out.

You just sighed clearly exhausted but in a good way, shimmying up your bed and combing your hair out of your face.

Taehyung took the condom off tying the end and throwing it on the floor unsure what to do. Did you want him to stay or leave? He would like to stay and possibly get some post-sex intimacy but he's not sure if you're about that. You flashed him one of your infamous smiles and reached a hand out to him. He moved to lie down next to you pulling the blanket over the both of you as you attempted to catch your breaths.

You snuggle up to his side on his arm and the other he brings behind his head looking down at you. With the hand behind your head he started playing with your hair.

He couldn't tell if this pent-up hunger for sex of if it was something more. Is he ready for it to be more? Do you even want it to be more? It was hard to tell how you felt because up until this point you've passive with your emotions. You radiated the idea of being carefree and he wonders if this was one of those times you're just doing what you want.

"We've got that exam in class tomorrow," Taehyung said instead of asking what he really wanted to know. He's scared if he talks about anything else you'll draw back. You groaned into his chest, "Don't remind me."

"I've gotta, as your tutor it's my job," he said with a smirk when you rolled your eyes.

You walked into the lecture the next day talking with Jungkook. Taehyung had his last class end early so he got to the room quicker than you. You do sit near each other but mostly because you two were apparently dating. Your friends didn't know that it had all started because you and Taehyung were talking about Jisoo. You're not sure how it's escalated into what it is now and you also don't know how to feel about it all.

You took the seat next to him with Jungkook on your right and Taehyung looked just as hesitant saying hi to you as you did him. Jimin and Namjoon came in moments later waving to you. With that, Taehyung took your hand in his under the table and tried ignoring how awkward it felt. After what happened last night Taehyung ended up leaving. You two talked for a while but laying together like suddenly felt awkward and it was clear you two were done seeing each other.

Taehyung just had so much to think about. He couldn't understand how he felt about everything happening. At first, when Jisoo dumped him that's all he could think about. How she could sit there and admit she cheated and then dump her like it was completely her choice. You've always been in the back of his head but never in the forefront. Now that you were he just felt indifferent and guilty. Indifferent because he's clearly into your but he's not sure if he's ready for that.

It's only been about three months since the breakup and you came along a month after it happened. Can anyone see why he feels indifferent? He likes you but he wasn't in the right place to ask you to be his pretend girlfriend and even though he likes to think it was a mutual thing, he brought it up first.

But he also feels guilty because he doesn't want you thinking he slept with you and did all this for a rebound. Having sex with you wasn't something that had been on his mind despite his attraction toward. Of course he thought you were attractive from before he ever approached you. You were the type that someone passing will notice and with Jisoo always bringing you up with Jimin it was hard for him to ignore. There has just always been something intriguing about you and he can't deny that. But he never thought about sex.

Even when he got closer to you it had just been about him liking getting to know you. You weren't afraid to be loud or do something funny and that's how he was too. He found himself smiling whenever you did something. He liked talking to you and letting you go on rants about literally anything that annoyed you even the slightest.

Still, it wasn't until after last night when he had dinner with his dad did he realize just how much it is now. He was able to suppress it till now but he's not sure he can go back after sleeping with you.

Once the exam was complete he took your hand in his, “Can we talk?”

“We can do whatever, we’re dating right?” You said it out loud before turning to Jungkook and Mira, “I’ll see you later.”

Taehyung’s friends left too and suddenly it was just you. You left the lecture hall and moved your hand out of his to take your lip gloss out of your bag. You held a compact mirror out as you reapplied a thin layer to your lips and smacked them in a kiss. He didn’t say anything but his curiosity was killing him. You were clearly acting distant.

“So what do you want to say?” You asked him and he just bit his lower lip. He’s not sure he can say anything now. You didn’t seem to be in the best mood today and he’s worried you’ll suddenly tell him to fuck off or something. Why do you confuse him so damn much?

“Nevermind,” he sighed, “I’ve gotta get to class.”

“Whatever.”

That made him freeze, hand on his backpack strap debating if he really should just talk to you. No. He can’t. You’re in a fake relationship, right? Minus the benefit that is. So he just left in defeat.

“Are you two in a fight?” Mira asked you the following Friday at another party. The only reason you came is because Mira was hooking up with the guy throwing it and you had nothing better to do. It’s not that you’ve been avoiding Taehyung but you know you’ve been distant. You’re really only show affection to him around Jisoo but it doesn’t matter. You’re not actually dating. It’s all pretend. You’re just bored and having sex was a one time thing due to your emotions being high because of your stupid ass dad.

Real relationships are stupid and too much work.

You’ll admit you didn’t think about him being at this party so you didn’t even bring it up. Now he’s standing across the room looking at you. You just turned away, “No, just tired of him at the moment.”

“I don’t believe you but whatever,” Mira said with a shrug, “Let’s go look at what to drink.”

“Finally tired of him?” Jungkook asked with a laugh, “I figured. He didn’t seem like your type.”

“Why?” You asked suddenly defensive, “He’s hot.”

“Yeah but he’s actually a good person. You? Not so mu—ow!” He groaned when you pulled on his ear. “Talk to me like that again.”

“Please, not like I’m lying,” Jungkook shrugged you off.

“Go talk to Y/n,” Namjoon told Taehyung, “I don’t know why you two are fighting but go work it out.”

He wanted to argue and say no but he’s supposed to be your boyfriend. He had to care that you two were fighting and so he left his friends to go to you. “Y/n.”

“What?” You asked turning away from your friends. He sighed, “Come here.”

You did as told going over to him, “What?”

“Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Why are you so distant?” He rushed every question on his mind out, “Was it because of the other night?”

“Sure.”

Your response made him scoff, “No. Don’t brush me off. Answer my questions.”

“I don’t want to,” you said with a sigh looking around, “I need a drink so I’m gonna go.”

He reached for your hand but you were already gone. With a groan in frustration he turned away immediately. He needed some air to think and so he walked passed his friends to the balcony door with a sign that said nobody could go through.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Taehyung couldn’t help the way his eyes rolled in annoyance ignoring Jisoo. Still, she came over to where he was against the railing, “What do you want?”

“It looked like you and Y/n were arguing so I wanted to come check on you,” Jisoo said and it only made Taehyung more mad. He huffed, “Well it’s none of your business so you can go.”

“I still care about you Tae,” Jisoo confessed moving even closer to him, “And I don’t like that she’s getting you worked up.”

“Just shut up,” he said with little patience for his ex girlfriend. He wasn’t even thinking about her right now. He was thinking about you. “You can’t care about me after what you did. So if you think I care at all about what you think, you’re dead wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” she began to cry, “I’m so sorry and you have no idea how much I regret doing what I did. I miss you so much and seeing you with Y/n drives me insane. I can’t stand seeing her treat you like this and make you mad.”

“Jisoo, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I don’t care,” Taehyung said bitterly, “You cheated on me so I don’t care if you miss me or regret it.”

“I’m sorry!” She kept going, “I swear I didn’t mean to. I just, I thought you didn’t love me anymore and I wasn’t thinking. But please, I regret it. I regret it every day and Y/n doesn’t deserve you.”

“She gets everything she wants and she uses people to get what she wants. When she’s done she just throws them away and I don’t want to see that happen to you,” she moved closer to him, almost touching him backing Taehying into the corner of the balcony.

“She’s mean Taehyung. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself and please, please just take me back,” she said. Taehyung scoffed ready to tell her to fuck off when she did the unthinkable. Her lips pressed against his and before he could process what was happening, the door was swinging open.

“Tae—“ he pushed Jisoo away glaring down at her when he caught sight of the open door. There you stood looking anything but happy. “Y/n,” he made a move to go to you, heart racing out of his chest but you were leaving. He was going after you, Jisoo clinging to his shirt, “Wait—“

“Get off me!” He yelled, angry for real this time, “Don’t you get that I don’t want you? I don’t care how you feel. I don’t care what you think and I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Bu—“

“No, just stop. Y/n’s not the problem, you are. You’re a fucking cunt Jisoo,” Taehyung said honestly, “And I love Y/n way more than I’ve ever loved you and you just fucked up my chances at getting her back. I can’t stand you, do you get that? You didn’t deserve me and I’m happy I see that now because you’re an awful person.”

He knows he was being mean but it was just built up frustration toward her that was finally coming out, “And you’re a dirty cheater and I’ll make sure to remind Hoseok of that. Now move.”

He left with that running back into the apartment looking for you.

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked Jimin in a rush. Jimin pointed to the front door, “She just left. What’s go—Tae!”

He ran out the door calling out to you, “Y/n!”

You were already on the street as he chased after you. “Just stop Taehyung. You wanna run back to your cheating ex. Just do it. I don’t care.”

“I would never! I love you Y/n,” he said honestly because it was true. How could he not fall head over heels for you since the beginning. You proved every bad thing he’d ever heard about you wrong. Sure you snapped at that girl but he knew it wasn’t like you.

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “You love Jisoo. That’s why you wanted to make her jealous in the first place—“

He pulled you back into him by your arm. Had he really chased after you that quickly? He was out of breath, “I don’t give a fuck about her anymore.”

“Then why keep the act up? Were you just waiting for the moment she apologized? Because she’s a cheater and I don’t care if this relationship wasn’t real between us, I hate cheaters and you just kissed her,” you said referring to what you had walked into. All you had wanted was to apologize but clearly he had other plans that didn’t involve you anymore.

“Let me explai—“

“No,” you said pushing him away, “No. I don’t care. I don’t care about what you have to say. I’m done with you. I don’t need a relationship with you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Taehyung shook his head, “You do care. I know you do. That’s why you’re being mean right now and if you

just let me explain and stop a—“

“No! No! No! I’m being mean because I can be and if you don’t like it you can leave. I did this because I was bored and you were easy to make my new toy,” you said viciously, “So don’t act surprised that I don’t want to deal with you anymore. Go back to Jisoo and leave me the fuck alone.”

He wanted to act like your words didn’t sting a little but you were being cruel. If you hadn’t walked in at that moment. If you would’ve just seen him push her away and tell her he loved you.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered and you didn’t mean it. You really didn’t but you weren’t going to get hurt er over a guy you weren’t even dating. You just shrugged, “I do. So this fake relationship is don—“

“It stopped being fake to me the second you kissed me on the yacht,” Taehyung confessed, “But I didn’t want you trying to run away from me like you’ve done the last few days. And now you’re using the kiss as an excuse to push me away when we both know I don’t feel shit for Jisoo. I know you know she kissed me. I wouldn’t be here right now if I wanted her.”

“Well I don’t c—“

“Yes you do!” He yelled at you. You two were arguing on the street for anyone to see but he didn’t care about anything but you. He grabbed you by the waist shaking you a little, “You do care so stop acting like you don’t. You can play the mean bitch card with anyone else but not me! I know the real you and I know you care about me too. And I swear to you, that kiss meant nothing to me. It disgusted me.”

You didn’t say anything but he knew he was breaking down your wall so he kept going, “I know how everyone perceived you but I don’t see you that way. I see you as someone who’s been let down a lot and your defense mechanism is getting mad and I don’t want you like that with me,” Taehyung said moving closer to her. You let him pull you into a hug.

“I really care about you and I know this is happening so fast but I couldn’t stop thinking about the night of the dinner,” Taehyung held your face in his hands, “And I want to be with you. Not as pretend but really as my girlfriend.”

“Are you sure you’re not saying this to get back at Jisoo?” You asked with a pout. He shook his head, “Fuck Jisoo and everyone else, it’s just you.”

“Even if I’m mean and spoiled?”

“Especially because of that,” he teased brushing your hair out of your face before kissing the tip of your nose, “I like everything about you and we’ll work on whatever needs to be done because I want to be with you so damn bad.”

“At least we don’t have to tell anyone we’re dating now.”

He smiled, heart melting a little as he tilted your head up and connected your lips with his. You smiled back, “Just so you know. I love you too and I’m really sorry for pushing you away. If I hadn’t gotten mad then Jisoo wouldn’t hav—“

“It’s fine baby, as long as you love me I don’t care about the rest.”

::.

request 1

request 2

wow I wrote this in less than two days ain’t that something

thanks for over 4K followers. luv and appreciate everyone.

I’m convinced Tae is really affectionate and understanding so when he got to know y/n he just fell in love

and I don’t wanna hear anything bad about this y/n bc she skims over her trauma which clearly explains why she acts the way she does 😜

hey siri play daddy issue by the neighbourhood

hey siri play evergreen by Omar Apollo

hey siri play liquid smooth by mitski

#kpop #kim taehyung #Taehyung smut #bts #bts smut #idiots to lovers #fake dating

2K notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 6 months

Text

Lucien when it comes to Elain:

"Don't just leave her on the damned floor!"

Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way.

"Where is he keeping her?" Tell me anyway. List all of them." "I I need to find her."

Given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

"I'm a mated male now."

"I'm getting my mate back."

"Tell me about her - about Elain."

"Is....is there anything I can get for you?"

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all."

Looking at her now....She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But she couldn't breath as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"She needs fresh air."

"Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two."

"It wasn't just about what he thought - it was the ... feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing."

"Let me do something. About Elain. I heard - from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn't hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally."

"I think she went through something terrible."

"Please tell me," Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer, "What the healer says. And if - if you need me for anything."

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

Lucien. It was Lucien. Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. "Are you hurt?" he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain's hand.

"I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you. "He was a good man, he loved you all very much."

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. "I heard you made the killing blow," he said.

To where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

"How is she?"

"Does she still mourn him?

Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at the manor, he'd run into Elain's former bethrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

"The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her."

"The pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Lucien as Lucien:

“She refused, and … Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people,

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.” “I know she meant no harm,” he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance …

a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever.

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”. “That day you—went away,” he said, struggling to avoid that other word—left. “I beat Tamlin back to the manor—received the message when we were out on the border and raced here. But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.” “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope.

I begged him for more time, but you’d already been gone for months.

My blood chilled. “You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry.". He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back.

Leave him. I should and could leave him. But to a fate perhaps worse than death. His russet eye gleamed. "Go."

But Lucien was there. / Lucien's sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

"I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

He waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands.

Lucien picked them up by their tails as if he'd done it a thousand times. "I'll clean them while you start a fire."

"I had the element of surprise on my side." "No," Lucien said quietly. "That was all you".

Of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

I dreamed that he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket. / I'd been wearing my cloak but he'd indeed given me his.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles,

He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death.

I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows,

His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?”

Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I'd been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but.... he seemed eager.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

"Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache." Mor frowned, "Any suggestions?" Lucien tied back his hair with a strip of brown leather. "Do you have a map?"

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.”

“It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

"It was time," Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. "For me to do something."

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Seems like Lucien can still play the fox.

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing, but had promised to come here when he finished.

Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

The male was somehow able to move between his three roles - an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin - and still dress immaculately.

"Set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

Perhaps you'll get a handsome fae lord as your mate, too "

"Lucien's cruel beauty"

Sculpted chest

Hard muscles of his shoulders

Broad hands

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

354 notes · View notes

blues824 · 1 year

Note

Snake and Love hashira and Poly!Bi!reader unrequited love!

The cannon lovers don't take notice of reader's love for both of them! As reader been obliviously showing their love for the two... sooner or later reader stops their efforts unnoticeable and get kind of sad about it...

reader can have a sad ending of dying by (demon, self inflicted, Died of unknown like illness ect..) their crow delivered the message of their death while also giving all the hashira a long letter! Mini reactions of all letters! The letters are their feelings towards all the hashira even if they didn't talk much!

Angst is what I am feeling sorry y'all fluff lovers out there!

Your cause of death is up to your interpretation.

Gyomei Himejima

He had someone read it to him for obvious reasons

Cried more than usual

You didn’t talk much, but it still hurt

From that point on, he made sure your memory was honored

Mitsuri Kanroji

Upon finding out that you loved both her and Obanai, she wept

For days on end, she cried

She was unconsolable

Keeps your haori if it was recoverable

Giyu Tomioka

Even though he tried not to get attached to people

He thought you were an exception

You were his friend, and now you are gone

Learned his lesson the hard way, I guess

Tengen Uzui

Well, this wasn’t a very flamboyant situation

His wives wept at the death of their friend

However, no tears left the Sound Hashira’s eyes

He was simply in shock

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You were the person who got him closer to his younger brother

Now you were gone

He tried his hardest not to cry

But goddamn it was hard

Shinobu Kocho

Once she saw your crow, she knew what happened

She just felt tired

Tired of losing the people that she loves

Tired of mourning those she has lost

Kyojuro Rengoku

Another fallen comrade in arms

It’s not an uncommon thing, but he didn’t expect it to be you

He lets a few tears fall as he reads the letter

You knew you weren’t coming back

Obanai Iguro

When he read your written confession, he went into shock

Kaburamaru started hissing sadly

At night, he weeps because he hadn’t known about your feelings

It’s too late now. You’re gone

Muichiro Tokito

The first time anyone saw him snap back to reality

No, this will not be an Eminem reference

He didn’t know you well, but you have fought many battles together

He places some flowers upon your burial site

770 notes · View notes

xdacted · 7 months

Text

The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace.

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better.

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point.

It was like losing a piece of myself.

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did.

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school.

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen.

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything.

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it.

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad.

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name.

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down.

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it.

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world.

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts.

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it.

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch.

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off.

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house.

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them.

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them.

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest.

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us.

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion.

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression.

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks.

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left.

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close.

“Hi,” She whispers back.

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Is there -?”

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow.

What a drama queen.

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear.

Hm. How strange.

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly.

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me.

A secret then.

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong.

But this - this was different.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling.

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him.

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed.

Maybe I was a bit psychic.

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand.

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful.

A peace that’s so very addicting.

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic.

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods.

Before I know it, they are both standing.

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement.

“I told you!” I cry.

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare.

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry.

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory.

But what a beautiful memory it will be.

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea.

It is perfect. It is home.

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back.

“What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear.

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth.

“What happened?” Carla demands.

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with.

I can hardly breathe.

Anger coils tight within me.

Fucking vultures.

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex.

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own.

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair.

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him.

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.”

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room.

This wasn’t right.

Summer is our time.

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away.

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat.

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face.

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles.

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors.

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through.

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn.

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself.

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse.

I take a tentative step forward.

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful.

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go.

My brother is good.

And the world is cruel.

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable.

And Charles.

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear.

That Charles.

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is.

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them.

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him.

I hold him and let him fall apart.

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him.

I gesture for him to come and he does.

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back.

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does.

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest.

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do.

We always will.

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

203 notes · View notes

3d-wifey · 9 months

Text

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (i) - You

[15 & 16] - THE CAPITOL

Pine is a simple wood. It grows in abundance, representing purity and innocence. In Eleven, it’s saved for children. Children like Cane. Only thirteen years old, but at the end of his life. He died in the initial bloodbath from a knife in the heart, you saw it yourself as you were running away. You had made eye contact with him for a split second and had contemplated waiting for him behind one of the many buildings encased by overgrown greenery. But, within the next second, those eyes had clouded over and cannon fire rang in your ears.

He looks so small in his pine casket, you note. The pale shade of his little brown face is the only giveaway that he isn’t sleeping.

His parents come to stand before him, withdrawn in their grief for their youngest child. They each place a fruit in his hand: a pear in his left, and an apple in his right. One for himself and another to share with whoever comes to take his soul.

Neem, his brother, holds up his sister Venus, the youngest girl. She is distraught, wails bouncing through the clearing. Their oldest sibling, Vera, hadn’t been permitted to leave the fields to come to the burial.

Chrysanthemums represent death, mourning, life, and goodbyes. Roses represent life, grief, and sadness. You watch as the adults of the town move in to help his family cover him head to toe in the petals. A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

You can’t help but think about how close you came to being the one under all those flowers. You imagine your mom having to place the fruits in your hands by herself. The hand on your shoulder keeps you pinned in place as Venus’s knees buckle. Your mom squeezes you to her side and you look at her tightened face. You aren't the only one imagining it.

The grave has already been dug and above it sits his headstone, a rock bigger than both of your hands combined with his initials and his age carved into it.

C.B.

You stare at that rock long after they put him in the ground and cover him in dirt. At the end of the ceremony, all of the children in attendance get in line to hug the family. This one is no different. You’re only fifteen, but you’ve been to many funerals. Only one stands out: your dad’s.

You remember being ten and getting irritated at how sticky the pomegranate juice made your hands, but you preferred it to the painful lump in your throat. You had to be lifted so you could place the fruit in his cold hands and you don’t think your mom put you down after, holding you close to her chest as the town’s children hugged you.

You’re at the back of the line nervously picking at your nail beds. There’s a certain amount of guilt tied to being the one who survived, especially in the face of the grieving family. You haven’t spoken to them since you got back a month ago—it took a while for the Capitol to return his body—but you know they don’t blame you. That’s just not the way people think in Eleven. You don’t turn against your own.

You’re nervous because you have a bigger part to play other than offering condolences and you promised Cane you’d complete it.

Before you go in to hug his father, you speak.

“I, uh, have something for you.” You pull a small bear figurine out of your pocket, crudely carved from wood. “Cane, he gave it to me to give to his family the night before we went into the arena. Just in case I managed to come back.” Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally.

And now he’s home.

And that’s what cracks them, you think. His mom’s lips quiver and his dad makes a pained noise when you place it in his shaking grip. And Neem, who has tried to stay strong for his family, gasps around a sob. Venus pulls you into a hug, tears dripping onto your neck.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

“Your accent is just darling. Say something else, say something else!” The woman in front of you exclaims. You can’t remember her name, but you’re pretty sure she never introduced herself to you anyway. In fact, you don’t think anyone has introduced themselves to you.

"Like what?"

"Like what?" They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead. "Oh, that is just a treat."

You've officially been the winner of the sixty-seventh Hunger Games for six months and thirteen days. It's the end of your Victory Tour and all you have to do is tolerate the Capitols poking and prodding at you until the night is over. Though, that's easier said than done.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

Your dress cinches at your waist uncomfortably. The heels you were forced into press painfully into the calluses on your feet, and you've eaten so many pastries that your jaw aches. Foreign hands pat at your hair, stroking and pulling at the curls as you recount for the fifth time how you escaped the tributes from District Five.

"I climbed to the top of a building and jumped between rooftops while they looked for me on the ground—"

“Skip to the part where you get your scythe!” Someone yells from the crowd, cutting you off. You purse your lips and bite your tongue so hard that you taste metal.

"Alright. Two days in, I was… gifted a scythe from a sponsor—"

"And you used it beautifully!" Another person calls from your left.

"Yes, that move you pulled off against that poor boy from Nine was simply marvelous!" A voice shouts from behind you. You remember him. How could you forget? The "move" you pulled off wasn't intentional. As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife.

He was the first person you killed in the arena. The first thing you had ever killed.

You bite into a muffin, and it tastes like ash on your tongue.

You try to ignore the multiple hands on your shoulders, arms, and neck; all moving to touch any bare skin they can reach. But it's hard to ignore soft hands that have never known a day of work. Much different from your own calloused palms, made rough from your days of harvesting crops and climbing high in trees to pick fruit.

You keep quiet as they talk at you, never actually trying to engage you in the conversation. You grimace as a hand touches your face.

"God, you are stunning—isn't she stunning?" A taller man smiles down at you with golden teeth, moving your face this way and that with his sharp nails.

"Oh, just gorgeous! Who knew they were hiding such a diamond in the Agriculture district, of all places?" The group breaks out in howling laughter, as if the very notion of something worthwhile coming out of District Eleven is outlandish. Somehow, both a joke at your expense and one they expect you to join in on.

You're willing to bet all of your earnings that none of these people have the slightest idea about life in Eleven, what it's like to be truly hungry. Children are being hung for stealing food and here they are, gorging themselves just to throw it all up. You're shaken by the thought that you are completely alone here. Forced to endure the abrasive attention of the Capitol residents until they grow bored with you. You contemplate how easy it would be to escape. You aren't sure how much longer you can go with people petting you like a domesticated animal. Maybe, if you make yourself sick from drinking those vomit-inducing drinks, you could make a strategic retreat with minimal fuss. "Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen," a smooth voice breaks through the crowd before a lithe body follows. The man—or boy, rather—is tall, all tan skin and sun-bleached-hair. Every eye falls on him as soon as he steps up, and you can understand why. Finnick Odair. He's objectively attractive; beautiful, even. You can tell from the brazen way he holds himself that he already knows that. Pink lips are settled in a smug smirk, but they don't take away from his eyes. If you were a writer, you could have authored a thousand and one poems about those eyes alone. "You wouldn't mind me stealing tonight's guest of honor for a dance, would you?" It's quiet, and the crowd looks at each other. They clearly don't want to give you up—their brand-new toy. But who can say no to Finnick Odair? Exclaims of oh, certainly and of course are called out before he comes to stand in front of you. Someone pulls the saucer of miniature cakes and cookies from your death grip and you feel bare before him. You had seen him two years ago during his games. Then, six months after that he came to Eleven for his Victory Tour, apologizing to the families of people he didn't know nor care about. He was just another pretty Career laughing and being gushed over on Caesar Flickerman's couch, pretty low on your list of priorities. But now—well, it was one thing to see him on screen, it was another to be in front of him. It's a lot like standing in front of the ocean, you imagine. You had seen it secondhand, through train windows and simulated in arenas, but nothing could prepare you to see it in person. He doesn't push you to take his hand, just holds it out in front of him like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows you'll take it, eventually. The temptation to reject him is strong. You’d pay money to see the look on his and everyone else's faces if you said no and walked away.

You reach forward and a callused palm meets your own. You trust him as much as you do everyone else vying for your attention here, but he's the lesser of two evils. You tense up as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself to be surrounded. But he doesn't lead you to the center of the dancing mass like you thought he would. Instead, you both linger on the edge, barely close enough to be a part of the crowd. He faces you and asks, "May I have this dance?" Overly formal in a way that nobody else here has been with you.

"We're already here, aren't we?" You say as if you weren’t just contemplating leaving him behind. You step closer to him as the band starts a new song, your right hand holding his left and the other on his shoulder. His free hand lays on your waist, a fraction above the slit on the side of your dress.

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down.

You narrow your eyes. “What’re your thoughts on lying?”

He inhales slowly, head tilting side to side contemplatively. “Depends. Am I the one lying?” You shake your head. He shrugs. “Then, I hate it.”

“Then, I won’t answer,” you shrug back. He lets out a puff of air from his nose, a laugh?

"I'm surprised Seeder isn't here with you. She talked you up a big game, you know. Very confident that you'd win." His eyes sweep over the crowd of dancing couples before settling on you. “Guess, I should have bet on you too, huh?”

You don’t know how you feel about that. Why would Seeder be that confident in a semi-malnourished fifteen-year-old with no combat skills?

You definitely wouldn’t have bet on yourself. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve put money into one of the Careers. Maybe that one girl from Two—perhaps the most muscular person you’ve ever seen. She was benching at least twice her body weight in the Training Center, but you think it was just an intimidation tactic. Though, a pointless one, since she didn’t even make it out of the Cornucopia. You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine. “I wouldn’t have if I were you. But now that you've actually seen me, do I meet all the expectations she set?” You partially joke. Partially because as much as you hate to admit it, you are curious. Why you’re curious about what he thinks of you will remain a mystery. “Now that I've actually seen you? No,” you look up at him in shock before he grins like a shark, teeth on display. "You exceed them. Don't get me wrong. You were beautiful on screen, but the TV doesn't do you justice." He does little to hide the once-over he gives you. It was meant to be caught. You don't know what to say. You've been excessively complimented and fawned over since you were reaped, but somehow, it felt different coming from him. His gaze felt different. Like he actually saw you. You throw that thought away. Finnick is a known flirt—a playboy. He means nothing by it and neither does the look in his eyes. "She's pregnant. Seeder," you clarify, abruptly changing the topic. “About seven months along. She's resting at the hotel.” Traveling for so long had taken its toll. Not to mention the stress of just being in the Capitol. Snow, the bastard, wouldn't let her stay behind, even though Chaff was willing to take her place as your mentor on the tour. "Ah, congratulations are in order then."

"Please,” you scoff. “I'm sure you didn't come up to me just to talk about Seeder." Your gaze bounces around his face as you do everything in your power to avoid eye contact with him.

“Why not? I can’t ask about a good friend?”

“If you’re such “good friends” shouldn’t you have already known she was pregnant?”

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means. “I came up to you because you looked like you were one more scone away from using it as a weapon." The laugh you let out is a surprise to you both and you have to bite your cheek to stifle it. You haven’t been doing a whole lot of laughing over the past six months.

"Was I that obvious?" He's quiet for a moment as he stares at you and you don't dwell on it. Instead, you focus on the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

You're only a year younger than him and, yet, there's something about him that feels far older than any other sixteen-year-old you've met. The way he carries himself—something sharp-edged hidden under indifference, an alertness in his eyes that you're sure mirrors your own. "To anyone who cared to look," his voice deepens as he hums. It really is smooth. "Definitely." "Am I supposed to believe that the Capitol's darling cares about little ol' me?" "So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over. “Who doesn't?” It’s been two years and people are still talking about his games. And for good reason, you have to admit.

"Touché...again.” He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve—” "Seriously, what're you hoping to achieve here? You've gotta have a motive. Everyone does.” You push, cutting to the chase and sounding more accusatory than you meant to. But, he’s a victor too, right? Maybe you can toe the line here without repercussions waiting on the other side.

"Hmm, blunt. Even you?" He questions, continuing when you nod. "What's your motive for dancing with me, then?"

You could have said no to this dance, but that would’ve meant staying surrounded by them. This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

"I'd do just about anything to escape those vultures," you pause. Then, feeling emboldened, add, "And I guess you're not terrible to look at." If you were going to be forced to stay here, you might as well find your fun where you can. And talking to Finnick is fun. Undoubtedly, the only fun you've had all night.

"Oh, thank you," he laughs, mirth coloring his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "You know, I was worried about that."

"Is that so?" You smile, trying, and failing, to not step on his feet.

"Definitely," he pauses for a second, seemingly deciding on something before answering your question, "It’s just that—you remind me of someone. They got wrapped up in the Capitol; thought they could handle the…” he makes a wide sweeping gesture to the gluttonous pageantry around you and you get it: the extravagance, the theatrics, the Capitol of it all. “But the Capitol asked for more than they were willing to give. And, well...I couldn't save them." His eyes look glazed as he trails off. His face is grim, his smile gone so fast it's almost like it was never there to begin with. You find that you want it back. "And you want to save me?" You guess, heart in your throat.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The people here? Every single one of them wants us. They want to talk to us, touch us, sleep with us," you swallow at the look in his eye. "But they don't see us as people." He leans towards you and you freeze. For a split second, you think he's going to kiss you. That doesn’t scare you. Instead, he hovers by your ear. What would you have done if he had kissed you? You don't think you would've moved away. That scares you. "Me and you," he hums, lips against your ear, "Well, we might as well be a completely different species to them. We're lesser than. Beloved pets at most, tamed beasts at least."

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You live in Eleven, after all. There’s a reason no one goes looking for the kids that go missing from the fields. According to the people in charge, there’ll always be another to take their place. You sigh through your nose and turn away, but immediately turn back to Finnick when you make eye contact with the smiling man with gold teeth.

He shakes his head, lips curled into a frown of disgust, "Look at them, the way they linger at the edge of the crowd." The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back as he spins you. "You see how desperate they are to get in your good graces?" You peek over his shoulder at the people watching you, teeming with anticipation.

"Is that not what you're doing?" You ask, your cheek pressed to his. "Trust me, sweetheart. If I was trying to gain your favor, it'd be somewhere a little more private with a lot less talking." He doesn't give you enough time to reply, not that you know how, before continuing. "I'm doing the same thing I've done since I was reaped," he lowers his voice, almost like he's imparting some kind of secret. To the right person, maybe he is. "Surviving. I'd suggest finding your allies now if you wanna do the same. " And then he turns to place a chaste kiss against your cheek. To anyone watching the two of you, it would look like he's just flirting with you. You shiver as he pulls away from you, taking all the warmth with him. He looks down at you for a moment longer, locking you in his gaze. You had never really seen the ocean, you remind yourself, but, through him, you're staring at it now. Vast and limitless. All-consuming. He brings your knuckles to his smooth lips, and he smirks. The urge to shiver again is alarmingly strong as his mouth moves delicately against the skin of your knuckles as he begins to speak. "Until next time." You catch the shimmer in his sea-green eyes. It has to mean something, something worth pursuing. You've never known the ocean, but as you watch Finnick walk away into the crowd of adoring Capitols, you think you could grow to like it. There's a drive in him that's rare to see outside of Eleven, let alone in the Capitol, and it further proves your assumption right. There’s a kinship between the districts that only the victors are privy to—you and Finnick might be cut from the same cloth, and that’s made even more apparent by the way the masses move in to surround you both. You jump as trumpets sound around you and a spotlight shines on the balcony. You missed your chance to escape. It's time for Snow's speech.

Present (I) - You

[23 & 24 ] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

It’s winter in Eleven. There’s little worse than winter in Eleven. You must have forgotten to close your window when you left in a rush because the air in your room is practically crystallized, and you mull over the idea of igniting your fireplace but decide against it.

Normally, you would go to the Capitol after being invited to a party, your prep team would scrub and shave you from top to bottom, and Snow would introduce you to your client for the night. Then, you would stay in your hotel room and have time to recoup before you left. But, this time, there was no party. Only a very important partner of Snow’s who is not a patient man. So you left in the early morning and made the trip back the next day as the sun was rising. Seven hours there, seven hours back. You’re dead on your feet and your bed has never looked more tempting. You stand before your vanity and grab a makeup wipe, dragging it over your face and revealing the bags under your eyes. You're tired, bone tired. You kick your heels off. You unzip the back of your dress and let it fall to the ground. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you press on one of the bruises littering your neck. You follow the trail to the top of your chest, breast, stomach, and hips. You frown at yourself. What a pitiful painting you make. "It's starting!" Your mom calls from down the hall and you sigh, looking at your bed mournfully. You'd usually avoid Snow's announcements like the plague, you don't want to look at him more than you already have to, but it's different this time. It's the Quarter Quell. The last Quarter Quell had double the amount of tributes, and Haymitch told you how he only won by the skin of his teeth. So, despite yourself, you're curious to see what kind of nightmare Snow comes up with. There's also something else driving you. A man you met in passing at the party. Plutarch Heavensbee. He was strange, but a different kind than you were used to from the Capitols. He's taking the place of Head Gamemaker after Seneca Crane's untimely death. He spoke in riddles, always hinting at things of importance without saying anything at all. And there's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind surrounding something he said. "I understand that there’s a certain kind of…job that President Snow has employed you for. If I told you there was a chance to put an end to it, what would you say?" "I'd say you should cut back on the Morphling." "I assure you, I'm sober," he laughed, "I can't go into detail right now. I just need to know, when the time comes, that I can trust you to fight." Fight. It’s an interesting term, but you wonder if it has the same definition for him as it does for you. You doubt it. Very rarely is there ever any overlap between the way of thinking for Eleven and the Capitol. The people of Eleven fight every day and you’ve heard the other districts have finally picked up on the habit. Riots upon riots upon riots and it’s all thanks to the kids from Twelve. You still can't decipher what he was telling you and you’d usually chalk it up to the regular Capitol jargon. But there was something, something different that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You throw pajamas on, something soft that won't irritate you, and walk to the living room. "Here: sugar, berries, and licorice root, just the way you like it." Your mom hands you the cup and pretends she doesn't see the marks on your body. You're thankful. She looks tired too, older. "Thank you, Ma." You say, for more than just the tea. "Of, course. Now, sit, sit. He's walking out." You settle gingerly on the couch beside her, sorer than you thought, and pull your legs under you as Snow stands behind a podium. He lets the audience quiet down before beginning. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." You drink carefully from your cup as he continues, steaming liquid burning the roof of your mouth. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," you place your cup on the table and fidget with your bracelet as Snow pulls a letter from an envelope, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped—" The hairs on your arms stand on end. You brace for the blow. "—from the existing pool of victors in each district." "No. No, no, no, that's not, that's not right." You shake your head. It doesn't take long for your mom to start sobbing beside you and you…you can't breathe.

You suck a breath in and it feels like it's being funneled through a filter. Not enough, not nearly enough. Your heart's beating fast, faster, the fastest it’s ever beat and you're getting lightheaded. You stand up on shaking legs and stumble to the door, glass shatters as you knock a vase over in your pursuit. You need more air, you need, you need—you step out onto the snow-covered porch, submerging your bare feet in the white powder. It’s odd, it rarely snows here.

You kneel down and grab fistfuls of snow, smearing the ice on your face and grounding yourself. You breathe and you rationalize. You can breathe. You're taking in frigid lungfuls of air and you are breathing. You stare down the long walkway leading to your home, covered in both ice and snow. Across from that walkway is a cow pasture and past that pasture are woods. Vast and open and if you will it, no one would be able to find you. You wouldn’t be able to leave, not with the giant electric fence surrounding the district, but they wouldn’t find you.

But Snow could find your mom.

You stay out there until your feet and hands go numb. And then you stay until it hurts to move your fingers and toes, the skin of your shins and knees prickling with the temperature drop. You stay until your mom drags you in herself. "Let's warm you up." She says, but she's mostly talking to herself. She wraps you in a blanket and sits you on the couch. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with a fresh cup of tea. Saliva gathers in your mouth at the thought of drinking anything, so you use it to warm your hands instead.

“Oh, look what you’ve done to yourself.” You look to where she’s hovering over the carpet. Red footprints lead from the door to where you are now. You must have stepped on the broken pieces of the vase. You wait for the sting of pain to come now that you’re aware of the wound, but there’s nothing.

“I’ll go get something to clean you up with—”

“Can you just…can you just sit with me?” You ask and look away when you catch her frenzied gaze.

“Yeah, of course, baby. Of course.” The couch dips with her weight as she sits beside you.

By now, Caesar Flickerman is recapping the announcement to the audience with his cheery co-star. You can never remember his name. You're as still as a statue as Caesar goes over a list of remaining victors. You don't move when your mom holds onto you. She holds you and she holds you and she cries for you. You don’t think you have any more tears left in you.

“Now, it always hurts to say goodbye, Claudius, but I can admit there are a few lovely victors I’m particularly attached to.” Oh, you think, that’s his name. Doubtful that you’ll remember it.

“Yes, Caesar, I completely agree. Here’s one of mine now. From District Four: Finnick Odair!” Your eye starts to twitch, lower lid spasming. They play clips of him. Finnick waving to the audience as he walks on stage, Finnick posing for the camera at a photo shoot, Finnick walking down the red carpet at a movie premiere.

You imagine footage of him being reaped for the Quell and saliva is gathering in your mouth again, stomach flexing as you gag. You double over, nausea washing over you as you try to keep what little is in your stomach down. Absently, you feel a hand rubbing your back in wide, soothing circles that aren’t doing a lot to soothe you.

You were wrong. You do have tears left in you.

A/N: 1.) your arena is inspired by Valle dei Mulin in Italy 2.) The people of 11 all have farm and gardening-related names. (Neem tree, venus flytrap, aloe vera, Mass Cane) 3.) Cane had a crush on the reader similar to Peeta's initial crush on Katniss 4.) Each district has a different accent depending on their geography

#the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #catching fire #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

259 notes · View notes