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es-kay-zee · 3 years

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Lust | Lee Know x Reader

I had plans to make this kinky as all hell, but I somehow ended up going the opposite direction with this. oh well, it was still pretty fun to write. I’m also sorry if there’s parts of it (or all of it?) that don’t make any sense. I didn’t proofread it at all and my head was just empty while writing it.

I was kinda liking it at one point, then I overthought about it and now I think I hate it but I put in all this time so it’s getting posted. I just feel like it kinda went all over the place

Warnings: officemate! au, sexual tension (maybe? Idk, i tried), fem! reader, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex (yay!) there’s like a split second of softdom! Minho, but other than that moment there’s not really any dynamics.

Requested: Yip

Word count: 4.6k

_______________________

It didn’t take a genius amongst your co-workers to be able to tell what was going on between you and Minho. Everyone could see the way you looked at each other. They could see the way you took extra time at the printer, considering it was right next to his desk. You would stand there for longer than necessary, just watching him work. How his fingers would type away on his keyboard, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. God, what you would do to have his fingers inside you.

No, you can’t think like that. He’s just your co-worker. He may be hot as all hell, but this is a professional environment, right?

It was also painfully obvious to everyone how Minho looked at you the same way. Just as you would spend extra time at the printer, he would spend extra time at your desk whenever he had to hand you some files. He would try to make some idle chit-chat with you, but really, he was just staring at your lips the whole time. While you would admire his hands and arms, he would admire your lips. He often found himself wondering just what your mouth was capable of.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t only see you as some pretty thing around the office. He also admired your dedication and work ethic. He loved how much effort you put into your job to ensure you produce the pest quality of work. But he wasn’t stupid, he could see just how hot you are.

But he’s not allowed to think of you in that way. He’s not allowed to spend many a night imagining your hand, your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his hand. After all, you’re just co-workers. And it’s all professional, right?

That’s what you both keep telling yourselves.

It’s a normal Friday, not long before midday, and you’re zoning out at your desk, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do over the weekend. You’d originally had plans to meet up with a few friends, but they all cancelled on you, leaving you with nothing to do on the approaching Saturday and Sunday.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by someone waving a small folder in front of your face.

“Hey, earth to y/n?” You snap your attention onto the figure in front of you, quickly realising that it is, in fact, Lee Minho who’s standing at your desk. You hurriedly fix your posture, sitting up straighter and clearing you throat quietly before responding.

“A-are those some more files that need doing?” The way you stutter over your words has you internally cringing, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has over your body.

“Yeah, they’re the latest invoices that have come in. These ones need to be paid by Tuesday and then these ones need to be paid by Thursday,” he explains to you, holding up the two separate folders in his hands.

Reaching out your hand for the folders, you feel your fingertips brush against his once you grab them. You withdraw your hands as quickly as possible, feeling your heartbeat pick up slightly as the subtle contact. Your gaze lingered on his arms for a moment, his sleeves rolled up just the way you liked. Minho is so effortlessly attractive that it’s unfair.

You pry your eyes away from his forearms, away from the veins you can see running along his arms, instead looking at his face. The moment you look him in the eyes, however, you can’t help but think that maybe staring at his arms would have been the better option. His eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him, but the way he was looking at you right now, the way he was staring so intently at you, had you cowering slightly under his gaze.

“So, you had lunch yet?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Not yet, was just about to head up to the cafeteria shortly,” you reply, your eye focus being caught by his stance. You can picture it, him standing over you just the way he is now, hands in pockets, forearms visible, smirk on his face. Just imagining him standing there like that, looking down at you like you’re some sort of prey while you’re on your knees for him. Slowly undoing his belt and-

“Well, I was gonna head up now. Wanna join me?” you are once again pulled from your wandering thoughts by Minho, but the damage had already been done. You could feel your neediness throbbing in your pussy, your slickness slightly coating your underwear.

“Uh, sure,” you say, quickly locking your computer and grabbing your lunch.

You walk with Minho back towards his own desk so that he can pick up his own food before making your way up stairs to the third floor. Once you both make it to the cafeteria for the shelves. You grab your mug before making yourself a coffee, Minho doing the same next to you.

You both head towards a back corner of the large room, finding two seats at a small coffee table. A small conversation begins between the two of you, somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortably so. The occasional silences weren’t left empty, instead being filled with lingering glances at one another.

You make it through all your food and just over half of your coffee before it happens. Disaster. Minho has looked away from you for just a moment and the sunlight cascading through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows hit him in just the right way. It made him glow in the light, distracting you while you took a drink from your mug. You weren’t focusing on anything but how delicious he looked in front of you, ending up with you tipping your mug up to far and spilling it all down your front and onto your lap.

Your small yelp snaps his attention back to you and you both just stare down at your soiled clothes. Heat rushes to your face when you realise the exact repercussions of what’s just happened, and the heat spreads when you notice that Minho has also realised it. Your white blouse drenched in coffee; the material becoming see through. Minho’s gaze lingers on your chest for a moment too long for between normal co-workers, your bra entirely visible through the now coffee-coloured fabric.

Minho clears his throat before speaking. “Uh- I’ll g-get something to help clean that up,” he stutters out, standing up as quickly as possible before rushing off to grab some napkins. It’s not long before he returns, a whole stack in his grip.

He places them on the table, taking his seat again. Picking a couple napkins back up he turns his whole body towards you. Your breathing stutters when he leans in close to you, your eyes looking deep into his as he freezes in place.

He’s torn. Torn between wanting to help you for your sake, wanting to help you for the sake of being able to touch you, and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and he wonders if you can hear it too. Especially with how close the proximity currently is between you two.

He takes a deep breath before making a decision about whether or not to help you clean up. He reaches his hand out, carefully beginning to dab at the spilled drink on your lap, fully expecting to be told to stop.

You tense under his touch, but not out of discomfort. It’s the way his hand moves along your thigh that has you frozen. Your thigh. One of the more sensitive parts of your body, and his hand is rubbing back and forth along it. The contact causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the heat begin to pool in your core.

“Um… Make sure to soak these clothes before you wash them. That should help get any stains out,” Minho says, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to do that,” you reply, his voice snapping you out of your stupor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore your growing arousal.

Minho has to fight back his own increasing need at the sight of you nibbling on your lower lip, wanting little more than for it to be his own teeth tugging at the soft flesh. But what really gets him, is you taking a few napkins and beginning to dab at the coffee on your shirt, unintentionally pulling his gaze back down to your chest. Now he was fighting back groans, trying desperately to let the sounds die in his throat before you get the chance to hear them. That would be too embarrassing for him to handle.

It’s not long before you sigh a heavy sigh, giving up the hopes of being able to save your outfit and keep your presentability for the workplace, accepting it as a lost cause. Minho stops his own wiping at the sound, looking at you instead, waiting for you to speak.

“You know what, this is a mess. I might as well just head home for the rest of the day. There’s no point sitting here at my desk all day like this,” you say, looking down at your clothes. “Besides, most of my work is done for the day anyway.”

It’s only when you lift your head up when you finish speaking that you realise just how close Minho’s face is to your own. Close enough for you to feel his breaths against your cheek. Your eyes dart down to his lips, but only for a split second, not wanting to make your arousal so obvious. Minho, however, notices. But luckily for you, he decides not to say anything about it. Yet.

“That sounds like a good idea. Uh… here,” he says, removing his blazer jacket and holding it out to you.

You reach out and grab it, your fingers once again momentarily connecting with his as you take the item he’s passing you. You both rise to your feet and you give him a confused look, wondering why he’s handing you his blazer.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around with a see-through shirt,” he explains in response to your unspoken question.

The heat returns to your cheeks at his statement, quickly pulling the clothing item on and buttoning it up, making an attempt to cover yourself.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s some part of you that doesn’t really want to cover yourself, that wants Minho to see you. But you push that part aside. After all, you’ve got to maintain some sort of professionalism. “We should probably head back down now.”

“Yeah.”

You both gather your belongings, taking your mugs over to the dirty dishes rack and placing them in along with all the other dishes. Yet another silence befalls the two of you as you make your way back down the stairs to your floor, the quietness neither comfortable nor awkward. Something in between.

Finally reaching your floor, you make a beeline for your desk, aiming to grab your bag and get out of here as quickly as possible. But before you grab your things and head into your boss’s office to say that you’re leaving early, you pause, turning back to Minho again, stopping him before he gets too far away.

“I’ll get your jacket back to you on Monday if you want. I’ll even get it cleaned to make sure there’s no coffee on it.”

He takes a moment to think, once again torn between options. One being just saying okay and letting you just bring it to work with you on Monday. And the other option… Well, if the way you were almost whining when he was touching your thigh earlier is anything to go by, then the second option might just work out for him. Fuck it.

“Or you could bring it over to my place? Tonight? I-if you want to,” he says, making sure to keep his voice only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting any nosy co-workers listening in.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you think of the possible outcomes of you going over to his house, albeit under the guise of simply returning his blazer. You can already feel yourself growing wetter at the thoughts running through your mind. You blink rapidly, shaking your head slightly to yourself, remembering that you have to answer him instead of just standing there daydreaming all day.

“You’re in luck. I was gonna go out for a few drinks tonight, but my friends all cancelled on me. So, it turns out that I’m available,” you say, fighting hard to keep your voice steady and to not let on just how needy you were.

“Well, you could always have those drinks with me while you’re over,” he offers, stepping closer to your desk.

“I could.”

You both smirk at each other, knowing exactly what the outcome of tonight will be. Minho searches around your desk for a moment, eventually finding and grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down before handing it to you.

“That’s my address. See you at 7?”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

He smirks at you again before finally heading back to his own desk and you finally head off home, being sure to stop in and let your boss know you’re leaving.

______________________

Before long, 7 o’clock rolls around and you’re sitting in your car, parked on the road-side, opposite Minho’s house. Checking yourself in your rear-view mirror quickly, you make sure you look presentable before getting out of your car, his blazer draped over your arm. You’re somewhat nervous as you approach his front door, reaching up and knocking. It only takes a short moment before the door swings open, revealing Minho. He steps backwards, holding the door open as he gestures for you to enter. You step past him and into the house, taking in his appearance while he closes the door behind you.

His outfit is simple, a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but to you he looks damn fine. His jeans are tight enough to show off his thighs while not being too tight that it would create any struggle to remove quickly. That’s handy. And his shirt leaves his delicious arms on display. You look up at his face just to see him staring at you in the same way you were just starting at him. Like you’re the single best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi,” you say, bringing his attention back to the current moment. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“Hey, you look really good.” He gestures towards your dress. You chose one that was simple, yet effective at its job. You wanted to wear something that showed off your legs, something that would get his attention. And judging by the way he kept looking you up and down, it was working.

“Here’s you blazer,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” he replies, having already forgotten that he’d even let you borrow it in the first place. “I’ll just go put that away. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

He dashes off down the hallway, presumedly towards his bedroom. To take the moment alone to take in your surroundings, noting how Minho’s house had a very homely feel to it.

You take a seat on the couch while you wait for him to return. And it doesn’t take him long to do just that, already walking back up the hallway towards where you are. He heads to the kitchen first, grabbing a couple of glasses.

“I have some wine here. Want some?” he offers.

“Sure,” you say, knowing that soon enough the drinks will be abandoned in favour of other activities.

It’s not long before Minho approaches you, two glasses of wine in his hands. He hands one to you before taking a seat in the spot next to you on the couch. Directly next to you. He’s so close that the side of his leg rests against yours, but you’re not complaining.

“Try not to get too distracted by me again,” he says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “We wouldn’t want you to spill another drink.”

You both laugh at his teasing statement, but your mind focuses on the word again and you realise that he did know the causing of today’s earlier mishap. Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.

The next short while is filled with more idle chit-chat, a measly attempt at wasting time before getting down to business. The entire time you’re talking, Minho’s arm is resting along the back of the couch behind your head and he’s very shamelessly eye fucking you. In his defence though, you’re doing the exact same thing to him.

“Do you want another glass?” Minho asks when you finish your wine, placing his hand that’s not currently resting on the back of the couch on your thigh. You let out an audible breath as his hand softly caresses the flesh, the feeling sending pools of arousal directly to your heat. As his fingers slowly trail further up, beginning to disappear under the skirt of your dress, you know that he’s not really offering you another drink. It’s his way of moving the conversation along, of asking you if you’re ready to do what you truly came here for.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t ready.

His fingers continue to travel higher, skimming along your inner thigh, avoiding where you desperately need him. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a whimper. It doesn’t work, and it instead draws Minho’s focus to your mouth. And he’s back to thinking about your mouth, how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The idea alone has him growing painfully hard in his jeans. Hell, he’d do anything to have your lips on him, in any way.

“M-Minho, please,” you whisper, wanting him to stop his teasing caresses and finally touch you the way you want. The way you need.

“Please what?”

“Please t-touch me.”

“Touch you? I am touching you,” he says, stopping his hand’s movements and instead just resting it in place.

“No, please touch my p-pussy,” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face, embarrassment coursing through your body, causing your face to heat up.

Normally, Minho smirked at you, getting a kick out of how flustered you are.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you want that to happen then you have to prove to me how much you want it.”

And that has you whining.

You quickly manoeuvre yourself so that you’re straddling Minho’s lap, tired of waiting for him to provide you with some much needed friction. Your hands rest on his shoulders, his own flying to your hips when you slowly, experimentally grind down on him. Your actions get the best reward, in the form on a shaky moan from Minho, and that’s the moment you can tell that this whole thing is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.

When he told you to prove it, he was expecting you to just get more flustered. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such a bold move. You roll your hips against him again, this time drawing a moan from yourself. One of his hands slides up your back, grabbing the zipper for your dress and slowly sliding it down. Once he has it undone, he pulls the dress up and off your body, revealing your lack of bra underneath. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed earlier that you weren’t wearing one, he was too distracted by your legs. He looks up at you, his own lust-filled eyes meeting yours, watching you lean in closer to him. Closer, and closer.

And then your lips – those oh so pretty lips – were on his own, moving together in a rush of adrenaline and lust. There was no delicacy in the kiss, only pure wanton desire as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. You’d both been waiting for this for so long. Craving it.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh. He’s quick to stand up, keeping you held up, your legs wrapping around his torso. He carries you down the hallway, only breaking the kiss for a split second at a time to make sure he didn’t bump into anything, before he would dive back into your lips. Your kisses were intoxicating, addicting. Minho just couldn’t get enough. Even when he finally made it to his bedroom, dropping you down onto the bed, he still doesn’t pull away. It’s only when you pull away for breath that he stops, you both panting deeply from the lack of oxygen for so long.

Your hands glide across his linen-clad chest, the fabric warmed from his hot skin. He groans lowly at your touch, desperately wanting more. One of his own hands finds it’s way to your breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple.

His touch is soft, gentle. He’s testing the waters, wanting to figure out what you like, what touches really get you going. He knows he’s on the right track when your back arches slightly at the contact, and he grazes his thumbs over the nub again, harder this time.

You can feel how soaked you are, your underwear beginning to stick to you uncomfortably. You buck your hips upwards, trying desperately to get some sort of solid friction going, the aching between your legs bordering on painful. Sensing just how strong your need is, Minho pulls away from you, moving down the bed until he’s laying between your thighs, his fingers already dipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He wastes little time in pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side. And now, finally, after so long of wanting it, he’s able to gaze upon your pussy, glistening with your juices.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet you’re dripping,” he exclaims, looking up and making eye contact with you. And it makes you clench around nothing when you look at the man that’s remained on your mind with his head between your thighs.

“Only for you,” you reply, even your voice dripping with need. Minho looks back down at your soaked cunt and, in the split seconds before his touch, every nerve in your body and mind comes alive with electricity. He licks one long stripe along your entrance, and the moan you let out is obscene. And he loves it.

Minho is filled with a new determination, a determination to make you moan over and over again. To have you feeling so good that you’re screaming his name.

He circles his lips around your clit, working the nerve bundle with his mouth while he brings a hand down to work your entrance. He slides a digit it, immediately curling it in search of your special spot. He quickly adds a second finger, continuing his search for your g-spot. He knows he’s finally found it when your hands go flying to his head, threading into his hair, tugging hard. He groans at the sensation, loving the way your hands feel in his hair. God, everything you do just turns him on, and he begins to unconsciously rut his hips into the mattress. He continues working your core while you moan uncontrollably.

“F-fuck, Minho. I’m s-so close,” you manage to whimper out, but he already knows. The way your walls tighten around his fingers over and over tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do it, baby. Cum for me,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice, your orgasm washing over you with more force than you expected. He finger-fucks you through your high, only stopping when your body stops convulsing in waves of pleasure. He pulls his hand away from your core, a whine escaping you at the empty feeling. If he could make you cum that hard with just his fingers and mouth, how on earth are you going to survive cumming on his cock?

He crawls back up your body, placing his arousal-coated fingers at your lips. You open your mouth with no hesitation, immediately sucking the digits in, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked. The sight alone almost had Minho cumming in his jeans. For so long, all he’s wanted is your lips around some part of him, and while he also wanted to be graces with the visual of you sucking on his cock like your life depended on it, he was more desperate to just fuck you.

He wastes no more time in ridding himself of his clothes until he’s completely bare, reaching into his bedside table draw for a condom. positioning himself above you once again. He’s about to open the condom packet before you stop him, taking it from his hands opening it yourself. He moans when you slide the condom down his length, your hands feeling better on his cock than his own ever could.

The moment you lie back down, he lines himself up with your entrance, not wanting to go another moment without being inside you. He pushes into you, not stopping until his hips rest against yours, the room filling with moans as your bodies finally connect. His cock stretches your walls so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other.

After a brief pause, he slowly pulls back you, only to thrust back into you. He repeats the motions, gradually settling into a solid pace, not to fast and not too slow, a perfect balance of the two.

He drags his lips up the soft skin of your neck placing sloppy kisses as over, being sure not to leave any marks. As much as he wanted to mark you where it was visible, he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to go through the hassle of covering them each day at work while you wait for them do disappear. Instead, he opted for sucking bruises into your collarbones and along your chest.

Your brain felt like static, unable to string together a single coherent thought as Minho continues to thrust into you, pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The knot in your stomach grows tighter for the second time during the night, and from the way Minho’s thrusts are getting sloppier, you can tell that he’s close to his own end as well.

He slides his free hand in between the two of you, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself unravel, his fingers being the final to push you over the edge. And it’s your fluttering walls that has the same effect on Minho. You both ride out your highs together, him spilling into the condom and you around his cock. Your loud moans are music to his ears, while his are the same to yours.

Once you both come back down from your highs, Minho pulls himself away from you, quickly disposing of the condom before coming back to lay next to you.

Your body feels heavy, your brain foggy and distant, a tiredness falling over your entire being, exhausted from your orgasms. You groggily roll onto your side, curling your body up into Minho’s and almost instantly drifting off into sleep. He wraps an arm around you in return, feeling sleep approach for him as well. He rests his face against the top of your sleeping head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair. And just before he let himself fall asleep, he made sure plan out in his mind what he was gonna cook you for breakfast in the morning; pancakes.

#stray kids smut #lee know smut #skz lee minho smut #skz smut

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

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Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.

Heartbroken.

Desperate.

Lonely.

Rage.

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”

He sent Han Seo letters.

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.

“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.

I thought about you everyday.

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.

“I am going to forget him.”

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”

She turns to look at him in genuine shock.

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming.

“I should go inside.”

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.

Thinking.

Variety is the spice of life.

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.

It’s an entertaining day to say the least.

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”

He does.

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.

Nothing more.

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.

Fuck him.

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.

“Okay. Then talk.”

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.

She looks fucking hot.

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.

I missed you.

I love you.

Come with me.

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.

“Deadly. Get out.”

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.

What the hell.

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.

He could only share those feelings in the letters.

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.

“Hyung!”

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.

“You really chose to stay here.”

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.

“She wasn’t happy to see you.”

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.

He waits.

Breathless and terrified.

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”

“Come home with me.”

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.

“Good.”

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.

“Please.”

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.

This feels like nirvana.

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.

“I can’t feel like my legs.”

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.

“I was right they do look great.”

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.

“No.”

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.

“Yes just like that!”

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.

“Don’t look.”

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”

She cries out.

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.

“Today’s our last day.”

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #smut #but you know with feelings #romance isn't dead #you can find it in strange places #like pig's blood #han seo has the best wingman #the mafia family

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thomotomo · 3 years

Text

Through everything pt.2

A/N: Here’s the part 2 of my Nmajoon x male Reader story! I hope you will enjoy it! Shoutout to @ben-c0c who beta read this part and corrected all my shit (*¯ ³¯*)♡

Words: 2.5k

CW // Talk about stalks and sasaengs

Part 1

Namjoon held your hand during the whole escalator trip and you tried to calm yourself down by singing some random song’s lyrics or trying to concentrate on the warm feeling of Namjoon’s hand holding yours but nothing seemed to do it and before you knew it you were at the desired floor.

As the doors opened you saw a muscular man was waiting for the doors to open, he was looking at his phone and looked up as the doors opened. Namjoon took the first step, still holding your hand and you had no choice but follow him.

“Manager-nim! Hello! Sejin meet (Y/N), (Y/N) this is Sejin our manager!”

You smiled at him, bowing a little bit.

“Nice to finally meet you! Namjoon talks quite often about you!”

“I can’t say the same but nice to meet you anyway!”, he put on a friendly smile, even though you could feel that he was tense and you could easily understand why. If you were going to proceed announcing your relationship the company could be in very deep shit. You pushed those thoughts away, concentrating on your boyfriend and his manager discussing.

“You’re going to meet the members and then we’ll go see the CEO and the PR so we can discuss this!”

“Fine by me! Even though I don’t have much choice.”

He laughed gently and you followed Namjoon and Sejin to where the other members were in a big room, discussing about anything and everything. You were quite intimidated when they all looked at you as you walked in the room. You flushed and put your head down, looking at your feet. You heard Sejin talking to the members, quickly explaining the situation to them and what was about to happen. The members stood up and came toward you, smiling warmly and you were standing there awkwardly.

“H-Hello… It’s nice to finally meet you”, you waved at them, trying not to avert your eyes from them.

“Hi! Nice to meet you! Namjoon talked so much about you!”, it was Jimin who talked first as he extended his hand towards you. You took it and smiled at him, you were happy they seemed to like you too. You were scared that they wouldn’t like you because you could cause the “downfall” of their group, but they seemed genuinely happy to meet you.

Each of the members went to shake your hands, as you grinned, feeling more at ease with each minute passing. All of you then moved, discussing with them stories about Namjoon or learning about each of your lives (both yours and the members’). You kept discussing until Sejin told you it was time for the meeting with the CEO and PR representatives.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to appear not too worried but Yoongi seemed to notice it and he came to give you a hug, surprising you.

“It’s going to be okay! I’m sure everything will go alright!”, he grinned at you, doing thumbs up too, making you laugh gently.

The other boy wished you good luck and tried to reassure you gently. Namjoon took your hand in his, smiling gently at you, tugging you to follow Sejin to the office where all the important representatives were waiting for you. After what seemed a walk through an endless corridor, Sejin knocked at a door and entered first then let both of you in.

Before stepping in, Namjoon kissed your cheeks, whispering a “love you” before entering the room. It was plain grey, with big cabinets filled with paper works, probably all the cases they had to “resolve” or hide from the public. In the middle of this oppressing place was a big desk where Lenzo Yoon sat, the CEO for business; you supposed that your relationship was business considering he was the one meeting both of you. Next to him 3 people were present, two women and a man who looked at you as you walked in.

You repressed a shudder, the atmosphere in this office was really negative and if it wasn’t for Namjoon, you would have run away. Lenzo greeted you in a professional manner and you did the same, smiling a bit. All the PR representatives presented themselves and you took a seat in front of them. The woman at his right was Kwak Joo-Ho, the man at her right was Park Yong-Nam and the other woman at the left of the CEO was Sohn Eunseo.

You were very antsy and probably appeared as a nervous wreck despite trying not to appear this way. You were sweating profusely, your shirt was sticking to your back and your hands were shaking, but you kept trying to calm yourself, thinking about good thoughts and fluffy memories with Namjoon.

“So, I’ve been made aware of why Namjoon had requested a meeting with me and the PR team. I guess you’re his boyfriend right?”, Lenzo Yoon spoke first, a serious look on his face.

“Y-Yes it’s me.” You croaked, your throat dry because of the stress.

“From what he told us, you’ve been dating for a good while, 7 years if I’m correct and that he wanted to announce your relationship to everyone and that you were absolutely sure about that.”

“That’s right sir.”, it was Namjoon’s turn to respond affirmatively.

“Alright. I’ll let Ms.Kwak Ho-Joo talk to you about our thoughts on it and how we could do that announcement.”, he moved his hand towards a woman with her hair put in a bun. She nodded and looked at you, opening a file.

“So, I’m sure Namjoon had talked to you about it already but the medias are going to want to know everything about you, they’ll search any kind of social medias where you are, know that sasaengs will look for you too, they’re going to invade your private space and probably follow you and try to get all of your personal info, like phone number, private email, workplace etc. We’re going to need you to not do any public declarations that could be detrimental to the group like their private information, so you’re going to have to sign a non-disclosing agreement to ensure that.”, she slid a paper across the table to you.

Truth to be told you were a bit hurt that they thought you would publicly release their info but you understood why they did that, after all they were often chased by sasaengs and some of them even already had their private information. You read the contract carefully, not wanting to miss any info and you took the pen that was slided to you and signed at the bottom of each page before giving everything back to Ho-Joo. She put the contract back inside the file and continued.

“About the press and the sasaengs, you might want to put your online account such as twitter and Instagram in private to avoid any hate comments that could arrive to you, and to stop them from maybe digging up some things that you aren’t comfortable with sharing publicly.” You nodded at that, it only made sense, after all you didn’t want to get a flood of hate, same for your friends and family.

“Also, to announce your relationship it won’t be a press conference but we’re going to do a lengthy post about your relationship and post it on all of the company’s social media. We’re going to have to redact it with both of you, even though we already have an idea of what to write we will need your approval for some things.”

You nodded as she explained that. You got a lot of information at once but it was only fair, considering what could happen in the minutes or hours following the statement, you also didn’t want to reveal more than necessary about you. You were realistic, surely you would get a ton of hate, after all BTS was one of the biggest bands of its time so it was only obvious you’d get hated on, but you knew that some people would support you too and be understanding.

Park Young-Nam pulled out a computer, you guessed it was to redact the statement. You felt Namjoon’s hand on your thigh and you looked at him, a bit surprised, he smiled at you and you felt a boost of serotonin as you looked at his dimpled smile. He never stopped to make you feel at ease even in a nervous-wrecking situation as this one and you took his hand in yours and tangled your fingers together.

You stayed around an hour in the office, writing the lengthy statement about your relationship, then they recommended you not to leave the building already, not that you were planning to, considering the bomb you would have just dropped for the whole world to see, and other recommendations about how to act and react to hate.

After everything was said, they told you that they would publish the statement in roughly ten minutes and that both of you could go back with the other members. You bid them goodbye and Sejin accompanied you back to the apartment where the other members still were. You quickly went on your phone, being careful of privating all of your accounts just like they told you, you almost forgot about it but luckily you did it before it was too late.

You sat on the couch with a sigh, and so did Namjoon. Taehyung was looking at you a bit worried, your hands were visibly shaking and it didn’t seem to want to stop anytime soon. He went and brought you a glass of water, which you accepted and drank in one go.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yes, t-thanks a lot.”

“It’s okay. Do you want to play to keep your mind off it?”

“Yes that would be awesome, please.”, he grinned at you and turned on the Xbox and gave you a controller.

“Do you like Overwatch?”

“I don’t play it as much as before but yes I really like it.”

“Great! Let’s play it then, does that work for you?”

“Absolutely! Though I’m not very good anymore.”, both of you chuckled and kept discussing about the game as he turned it on. Soon you were joined by Jin and Jungkook who discussed with you about the game and did a pretty good job at keeping your mind out of the current mess on social media.

Meanwhile RM observed the four of you and he felt his heart singing at the sight of you being in great terms with the other members, but he couldn’t help but be worried about all the mess the announcement was going to create, you weren’t used to all the attention, well a little bit considering your job as a tattoo artist you had to have a public social media, but not of this magnitude.

Yoongi shook him out of his thoughts, putting his hands on his shoulder.

“You okay Nam?”, he looked pretty worried about him, honestly he could understand.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m really scared for him. And for us too obviously.”

“You know, both of you overcame a lot of things. Not everyone could date an idol for so long even if he was one, you’re also still together even with the distance and the time zones. I wouldn’t worry much, as long as you communicate, nothing wrong should happen. And don’t worry about us either, we’re big boys. If they can’t accept you being happily in love well they don’t deserve you.”, Yoongi smiled at him, trying to cheer him up. Namjoon’s lips rose a bit as he nodded.

“You’re right. But I really can’t help it, some people are wild, I’m scared they find his address and go and harass him in his own country too.”, he sighed in frustration. He hated knowing that some people weren’t able to respect the boundaries of public figures, even his parents weren’t sometimes immune to being followed by horrible people who wanted dirt on him or them.

“I understand but honestly, I’m not worried. You’ll get your happy ending with him, I’m sure about it. Come on let’s try to keep our minds off that. You should be happy it’s a respectable fine man you got there”

“You’re acting like an old man Yoongi, I didn’t know you were 50 years old.”, Namjoon chuckled, gently hitting his bandmate’s shoulder.

Yoongi chuckled too and they both stayed here looking at the other members and (Y/N) bantering about which character was the best in Overwatch. He observed your face, as cliché as it was, you were laughing at something Jin had said and Namjoon could swore you were lighting up the whole room with that blinding smile.

At the same moment a mess was created on Twitter and on every other social media where BigHit had published the announcement of the relationship. Namjoon’s phone didn’t stop vibrating and so did the other member’s (they were all logged on the BTS’ official accounts so obviously people were trying to get answers here too) but they all ignored it, in favour of turning it silent.

Obviously their next promotions weren’t going to be quiet so they would like to enjoy some calm. You all had fun for a good while until it was noon. You decided to order food and Namjoon used this time to call his parents, telling them both of you would sleep in the dorm that night (probably for the better at the moment).

The eight of you ate the food, discussing, and you were engrossed in a conversation with Jungkook and Jimin about tattoos. You showed them the big ass tattoos you had on your legs and talked about the others you had on your torso and they showed theirs too.

All in all, you were having a pretty good time with the members, until the inevitable moment where everyone didn’t really know what to say anymore and were just chilling. You were used to checking your phone and you shakily reached for it, looking at all the notifications you got. It seemed that some people found your personal Instagram account really quick and you already had a ton of notifications by people requesting to follow you. You were even @/ by some of them in their publications, some hateful, some pretty wholesome.

Same went for your tattoo shop account, you got a lot of followers and an alarmingly quickly growing number of comments under your last tattoo picture. You sighed tiredly and decided not to deal with it right now and closed the application in favour of playing a game. Namjoon looked at you and put his arm around you and kissed your cheek a few times earning a “Ewww” from Yoongi, whose eyes were shining with mirth as he did that.

You stuck your tongue out to him and went back to cuddle into Namjoon’s side, trying to ignore the growing number of comments and requests. You could feel your anxiety growing and just like earlier, your back was sticking to your shirt and you wished the situation wouldn’t be as scary as it actually was.

____________

A/N: Hope you enoyed this part 2! Don’t hesitate to leave feedbacks and reblog! You can also support my writing on my Kofi ! Take care (つ≧▽≦)つ

#bts namjoon #namjoon x male reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x male reader #bts x reader #bts fanfction #reader insert #male reader #x male reader #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years

Text

Late

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry has a reputation that makes you cautious and it’s caused some disagreements. Everyone thinks you hate each other, but maybe you don’t as much as you let on. (fluffy ending, and idk, maybe angst depending on your definition).

Words: 2880

Notes/Warnings: I made this like mid-20s Henry during the Tudors filming, season 1. If I messed up with tenses somewhere, I’d like it of you let me know. I started this story out in the past-tense then changed it to present so I might have missed some stuff when editing, even after reading it 100 times over.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hop up from your sunken spot on the couch. After the day you had, the Chinese food on the other side of that wood slab is the only thing with the ability to help you recover before you must face a fresh 5 a.m. morning with Henry tomorrow.

God, you want that man to fall off the face of the earth. You don’t care if his disappearance meant you would temporarily be out of a job. Being an assistant on the set of The Tudors was something you had strongly considered sacrificing in the past if it meant never having to work with one very particular, blue-eyed, temperamental actor ever again.

You almost quit weeks ago but told yourself to suck it up. You can’t afford to unintentionally cause drama at your workplace, not after your last job; and getting that kind of reputation is not what you are going for. Besides, filming for the first season is almost over, and you will gladly welcome the long break before everyone needs to report back for season two.

The smile you were fully prepared to give the delivery man falls entirely at the sight on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you doing here,” You huff out.

Henry crosses his thick arms over his even thicker chest and frowns back at you. “I didn’t get my script.”

A headache is already forming just from his proximity and you don’t bother resisting the urge to rub at your temple. “Well, I sent it to your house a week ago.”

“And I didn’t get it, so clearly you didn’t do a very good job.”

With an eye-roll, you say, “Is there some reason you had to come all the way to my apartment and bug me for the script when I will see you first thing in the morning?”

“Everyone else will have had theirs longer, and I wanted to get a good start on learning my lines, so yes, I have a good reason for ‘bugging’ you, Y/N.”

You hate the way he says your name. It passes his lips so softly every time and makes your heart speed faster than your liking. If another man said your name like that, you’d fall for him in an instant, but no, Henry seemed to be the only man possessing that thick, honey-sweet voice.

“Whatever,” You groan and turn on your heel. In your office desk are two extra copies of each actors’ script for emergencies, but a simple text from Henry would’ve sufficed; this is hardly life or death.

‘Hey, never got my script. Can you bring a copy in the morning?’ So damn easy.

You turn your head back when Henry’s heavy footsteps hit your hardwood floors. “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” You snap, eyebrows drawn together.

“What kind of person would leave their guest outside?”

The sass in his tone makes you want to pull your hair right out of your scalp. “You’re not my guest,” You say, but your blatant aggravation does nothing to hinder him and his body is a foot away from yours before you know it. Inches he has on you forces you to look up just to meet the smirk on his face.

“Stop acting like you hate me,” He says as he reaches a hand to grab yours.

“Excuse me?!” You quickly swat that hand away. “I am not acting like anything! Any negative feelings you are sensing from me are one hundred percent genuine.”

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms once again. “Oh, please.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. He is unbelievable. Everything he does, everything he says, everything he is has had the power to make your whole body shake since the day you met him. “God, I can’t stand you!”

Walking away from him for the office, he follows close behind. “You know what, you’re not all that great either!” He yells at your back as you open the drawer of your desk to shuffle through the scripts. “You yap all damn day, talking to everyone else on set and making them laugh! You shoot that pretty smile in any direction and people flock to you like deranged birds!”

“So!” You pull out the script and hand it to Henry. Without giving it a glance, he snatches it from you and tosses it back on the oak wood surface of the desk.

“So? You’re distracting them from their jobs! We could probably get things done twice as fast if you weren’t around!”

“That’s—”

“And you are annoyingly beautiful!” He harshly interrupts. “Annoyingly! The men we work with will not shut up about it and I’m sick of listening to them talk about you the way they do! I end up hearing your name more times in a day than I hear my own, and I get called upon every five seconds! I’m practically forced to think about you!”

You blink at the increase in volume that makes the thin walls of your home quiver.

“I don’t know how many times your face manages to flash in my mind in the course of a week, but it’s starting to get to me!”

Your hands rise in disbelief before they slap back down to your sides. “That’s not my fault! But you’re one to talk! You’re well aware you’re ridiculously, unnaturally hot, and I fucking hate it! The women we work with won’t shut up about you. And you think I’m annoying? Imagine being surrounded by a pack of idiots that go on and on about how amazing you are, when the truth is, you’re so arrogant I can’t stand to be within two feet of you!”

When you try to walk past him, his hand wraps tightly around your upper arm. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” You snarl at the rage in his eyes and try to shake him off you.

“You don’t hate me.”

You glare up at him. “Oh no?”

He gapes at you, seemingly stunned you have the gall to challenge him. The grip on your arm loosens until you are free. Winding his fingers through his chocolate locks, Henry shakes his head and clenches his jaw. “You are so...”

“So what? So irritating? So infuriating?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If I’m such a problem, then go.” Ignoring his words, you point a finger in the general direction of the nearest exit.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Of course, I do!”

He quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head. “So you’re going to grab me with your tiny hands and throw me through the front door, is that right?”

“I can’t fucking lift you!” You yell.

“Then I’m staying!”

“I think you’re really not! You can’t just demand to stay here! That’s not how this works!”

“Why can’t you just—God damn it!” He stomps his way back into the living room, script forgotten, and reaches for the doorknob. You follow him and let out an exhausted breath of relief, but Henry whips around to you again before you have time to revel in the feeling. “You know what, no. I’m not going anywhere until we settle this bullshit between us. I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m not going to act like I dislike you. I’m not going to keep playing this game, because it’s clearly not getting me anywhere; in fact, it’s doing the opposite.”

“Getting you anywhere?” You mumble.

“This whole thing is fucking bullshit and I’m over it.” He swallows. “Tell me what I did.”

“What?”

“You keep saying you hate me but have never given me a reason, so what did I do?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You were just telling me I suck at my job, yet at the same time you don’t think I have a reason to be mad. You glare at me during work, you act like I’m an inconvenience, you—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Henry grabs your hand, and for a reason you couldn’t place, you allow it this time. “At the beginning, when we met, what was it that caused a problem between us? I’ve gone over our first meeting in my head about a thousand times and cannot figure out how I upset you so much that you’re still mad after months.”

You slip your fingers out of his palm, looking to the floor.

“Please just tell me,” He begs. “Please, I--”

“You sleep with the women you work with.” You spit out.

When he stares at you in confusion, you wince and say, “I have this friend…kinda. She was an extra on Hellraiser and claimed that you slept with nearly every woman on set, herself included. When I told her I got this job she said you’d probably try to get in my pants if I wasn’t careful, and I’m not cautious enough about men as it is, so—”

“You were mad at me before we met for something I didn’t even do?” He isn’t angry or looking at you like you’ve lost your mind; more like he can’t believe that was all it was. As if he had a simple solution to the problem that planted its roots deep into the both of you months prior.

“Whether or not you did, it’s not like you’ve been an angel to me anyway,” You say.

“Because I fucking panic when someone I want doesn’t want me! And you’ve made it very clear that you do not want me! You always seem so angry and…and I’m not very smooth, ok!? I say shit I don’t mean!”

“So you do want to get in my pants?”

“No!” He says quickly, then after a beat, sighs. “Yes.”

You give no response, so he continues.

“I swear, despite how idiotic I have acted, I really like you, and I don’t know who your friend is or why she would tell you I slept with a bunch of women on set, but I didn’t.”

You have to look away from him. His eyes hold too much sincerity and all it does is confuse you. You have spent too much time pissed to feel comfortable with the idea that it was potentially all for no reason, so you hug your arms across your middle and take a step back from him.

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s late, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You won’t meet his stare but can see from your peripherals his head slowly nod. You don’t look up until your front door closes softly behind him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You spend the earliest hours of the next morning sipping coffee before everyone else arrives for work, wondering if the night before actually happened or if it had just been a very realistic messy mix of a dream and a nightmare.

The sun rises and you watch as it ascends each inch until it’s planted high enough in the sky to warm your skin. He’d be here soon, looking for you, wanting answers for any questions you hadn’t given him the chance to ask.

So, what, he likes me now? He wants me? You can’t wrap your head around it. But you suppose it makes as much sense as you saying you hate him when really what you’ve been is nervous. You don’t want to be used again by some man with more power than you. Pulling yourself out of that hole was hard enough and you have no desire to trip and fall right back in.

“Y/N. You’re here early.”

You jump at the first voice to interrupt the peaceful silence. It was the last moment you’ll have to yourself for the next fifteen hours at least.

Turning your head, you smile at your boss. “Morning, Em.”

“Henry’s here early, too,” She says. “He asked me to let him know when you came in, but seeing as you’re already here, you think you could just head to his trailer now?”

No, you want to say. I’m not ready. “Sure.” You half-heartedly smile, dumping the last of your coffee in the nearest trash can.

Each crunchy step along the gravel to Henry’s trailer feels less sturdy than the one before. Though, he isn’t in his trailer when you find him, but standing out in a grassy patch, throwing a ball to Em’s dog, Leo. It makes your heart pump hard to see him so casually soft. It’s the first time you are looking at him when his eyes aren’t already on you.

Leo loyally returns the ball to Henry three more times before you gather the nerve to step up to his side.

“Em said you wanted to see me.”

You notice him hold in a breath when he registers your voice, then tossing the ball once more, he says, “I’d have gone looking for you myself if I knew you were here.”

You nod, but you’ve yet to look at one another.

“The makeup artists are gonna have a blast today trying to make me look decent,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t sleep all night. I spent it trying to figure out what to say to you but came up short.”

You scratch behind Leo’s large ears when he nudges your legs with his head. Henry gently grins, though you don’t see it. You shrug. “At least you don’t have as many scenes today.”

Henry chuckles. “That’s true.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say to you either,” You say.

A moment passes as he blows out a deep sigh.

“Y/N…I don’t want to act like it didn’t happen. I know that’s what is easiest, but I meant what I said. The good parts, not the shit about you sucking at your job. You’re the best at your job.”

Finally meeting his eyes, the corners of your lips curve up just a bit.

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.”

“Henry…”

He shakes his head and throws the ball for Leo after the pups persistent whimpering. “I’m not going to make things hard for you. Filming is almost over anyway and if you want, I’ll try to bother you as little as I can. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass, it’s just…you like everyone around here except me, but I’ve liked you more than anyone else since the moment we met. It’s no excuse--”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at you. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. He stares at the touch you give him as you continue. “I didn’t have a good reason for treating you like I hate you, not really.”

“So, you don’t…hate me?”

“…No.” You look away in shame. “And I have a better explanation for that.”

He blinks, clearly relieved that every horrible thing he figured you felt for him was not, in your heart, the truth. “You don’t owe me one.”

“I slept with my boss once,” You rush out. “And, um…got the same warning as I did with you: sleeps with the other women he works with, will try to do the same with me. He did and I let him because I thought he liked me, but…no. All it did was make me feel like an idiot in the end.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I made a mistake.” You shrug. And suddenly, admitting that out loud, confiding in someone, knocks some of the painful gears in your head loose. You’d never told anyone the truth about your past. “Look, this is going to sound really odd but,” You swallow. “…Don’t stop bothering me.”

“Wait,” He turns his body fully to you. “What?”

Your lips thin, but then you smile, inch up on your toes, and go to kiss his cheek. All you wanted to do was provide a little reassurance, to let him know that you now forgive every misunderstanding between you, but the kiss lands a little too far to the right and covers the end of his mouth.

Immediately, you pull back a few centimeters and feel heat flushing your cheeks, but Henry tilts his head the slightest. He takes a breath, giving you a chance to pull back further, but when you make no move to abandon him, he connects your lips again.

It feels good. He feels good. So good it shocks you how much you don’t want it to end. And when you part your lips and his tongue touches yours, you can’t stop your hands from sliding up his chest before roping around his neck and tugging him closer. Only then does he greedily grab at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your t-shirt.

Leo’s bark separates you minutes later, though you’re reluctant to allow it. You glance at the dog, chuckling at his rapidly wagging tail as he watches the scene before him. But when you look back to Henry, his eyes are already glued to you, their hue a little brighter and a small smile on his face.

“I’ll bother you as much as you like,” He says and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

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*reposted for tag testing reasons.

439 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Text

a classic case of infatuation

Summary: TK is a very annoying coworker.

Tags: enemies to lovers LiteTM, office job au, Carlos POV

for @lire-casander !!! happy birthday! I’m so late but i finally finished it! I hope you like it!

ao3

“Whoops.”

Carlos breathed in a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he looked up. TK was walking away, not even bothering looking back at him despite the fact that he’d knocked his letter opener off his desk and onto the floor. It was infuriating and he wanted to do something about it, but that wasn’t feasible all things considered.

Carlos had been working in this office building with this management, slowly working his way from receptionist to the accounts receivable role of the building and he had serious job security. He considered himself rather likeable and a good fit. He enjoyed his job, even, managing to balance out his work-life and his free time in a way that worked for him best. It was great.

Or, it had been until three months ago when April, another accountant who handled the accounts payable aspect of things, had quit to stay home with her kids and they’d hired a nuisance in her place.

His name was TK Strand and he was one of the most cocky people Carlos had ever met. Whereas Carlos tried to get along with everyone and went out of his way to be exceptionally nice even when he was having a bad day and had stayed late on more than one occasion to help other people in his department out because he knew they had children to go home to, TK was full of himself and seemingly bored with his job if the way he found any excuse to walk around all day said anything. Carlos couldn't even complain about him to anyone because everyone else in the office found him endlessly charming and didn’t understand why Carlos was so bothered by him.

But he was and TK seemed to get off on getting a rise out of him.

On more than one occasion, TK had hidden his car keys or mistakenly mixed their mail or spilled a bit of water on his shoes. Every time he passed his desk, TK would knock something off no matter how much Carlos tried to make it where there was nothing to knock off. Hell, he even once managed to replace some of his deposit stacks and had Carlos scrambling when he almost presented his boss with the Communist Manifesto in comic sans instead.

“Maybe if you didn’t feed into it he would stop,” Michelle had suggested once, stirring her coffee with that annoyingly knowing smile, “Or maybe he’s just acting like a little boy vying for your attention.”

“Then someone should’ve taught him that doesn’t actually work. We’re grown ass men and we’re at work, he needs to grow up,” Carlos insisted, eyes narrowed. He had such a distinct memory of TK leaning against the receptionist desk, probably bothering her with his annoying smile. The memory was probably distinct because he did it damn near every day.

Truly, it was a problem. Shouldn’t he be working instead?

“Then try to ignore him, I definitely feel like that will help.”

It did not help.

“TK!” Carlos snapped, getting up from his desk with a sudden desire to tear him a new one. TK paused, his fingers dancing on the top of a divider for two empty cubicles as he turned to face him. He was smirking and his head was tilted to the side like he just knew he was going to have fun with this.

As if he wasn’t driving Carlos insane.

“Yes, Sir?” TK responded, still grinning.

“Pick it up.”

“Pick what up?”

“You know what.”

TK huffed a laugh and took a languid step forward, his head still tilted as if just challenging Carlos to say something about it. Which was stupid and infuriating because clearly no matter what he said, TK wasn’t going to act like a coworker. He was just going to be straight up annoying forever.

“Pick it up,” Carlos repeated. TK rolled his eyes.

“Fine, Dad,” he said, strolling past him just close enough so they bumped shoulders. Carlos watched him pick up the letter opener and wave it around, slamming it on his desk once he was done with his show. “Happy?”

Carlos didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until TK walked away.

“Talk to him,” Michelle suggested again that night as they sat at the bar. Carlos was uncharacteristically pissed and craving a drink, his eyes trained on the neck of his beer as if that would do anything. His stomach was tense with irritation.

“I think I’m going to quit.”

“What? Why would you do that? You love your job,” she said and maybe that was an overstatement, but he definitely worked hard and didn’t hate it. Didn’t hate it until someone was there to distract him and frustrate him to no end.

“Yeah, but I’m going to end up hating it at some point if he doesn’t stop,” Carlos told her. She frowned a little, purposefully exaggerated.

“Then go to your boss if it’s that bad.”

“It… It isn’t that bad. I don’t want to get him fired, he’s just driving me crazy,” Carlos insisted. They fell silent for a moment as Carlos glared at his beer and she stared at his face. He knew that her silence was her reading him and he was quietly dreading whatever she came up with.

“Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so annoyed is because maybe you like him?” Michelle suggested. Carlos scoffed.

“I don’t like him. What’s there to like? He’s annoying and won’t leave me alone and‒”

“And gives you a lot of attention and goes out of his way to make sure you think about him and is undeniably good looking?” Michelle suggested. Carlos glared harder and she let out a laugh. “I’m not saying he’s going about it the right way, I’m just saying maybe you’re just angry that you like him despite the fact that he’s ticking you off.”

“No. No, I’m going to talk to Tommy in the morning about maybe just getting me away from him,” Carlos decided.

Michelle didn’t try to talk him out of it.

He spent the night tossing and turning, thinking about what the hell he was going to do about this situation. He was going to march up to Tommy and explain the situation: TK was a nuisance and he needed to be moved away from him. Or‒no, that sounded like he was in grade school. He was going to explain that maybe he needed to put in his two weeks because of irreconcilable issues. He didn’t want to do that though and he didn’t want to threaten it either. He just wished there was an easier way to go about it.

The next day, after psyching himself up, he did approximately no tattling.

When TK walked by his desk again, Carlos didn’t react at all. Even when he circled back around to knock more shit off at least three times, Carlos didn’t respond and didn’t move to pick anything up. He just pretended it wasn’t there.

“Aw, are you mad at me?” TK said, a teasing tone in his voice as he sat across from him in the breakroom during lunch. Carlos continued to keep his eyes down and his breath even. He was just going to ignore him until he got a hint. “Oh, come on, Carlos. Play nice.”

Carlos rightfully ignored him.

He felt like he’d earned a medal of some sort by the time the day was over and he hadn’t reacted to TK at all. After lunch, TK had backed off for the most part and he’d finally had a soothing few hours at work before his shift finally ended.

And then he was locked in an elevator for six whole floors alone with TK.

“Look, dude, I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry,” TK said around the third floor. Carlos, after his day of strength, huffed a laugh.

“You don’t know what you did?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. TK blinked, his lips parting for a moment like he was genuinely confused and Carlos really understood what Michelle meant by him being undeniably good looking.

“Wait, what? What did I do?” TK asked, stepping closer again. Carlos scoffed.

The elevator doors were about to open, but he’d clearly lost his mind because Carlos reached out and pushed the button to make it stop in the middle of its journey before

“You won’t leave me alone. You bother me constantly, I never get a moment to not be annoyed by you. You literally make me dread going to work. I’ve never had a coworker I’ve considered quitting over until I met you,” Carlos vented. TK’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked actually a bit upset.

“Wait, don’t quit. I was just messing with you. I thought we were having fun,” TK said. Carlos’ eyes widened.

“Fun? You think being poked and prodded and relentlessly annoyed by some guy you don’t even know is fun?” Carlos asked. TK blinked once, twice, before taking a step back and putting a considerable amount of distance between them.

“I’m sorry. I thought… Well, I guess I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that we were friends. That you’re cute and make that stupid serious face when you’re working where your eyebrows get all furrowed and I start thinking that you’re going to give yourself a headache. I don’t know. Sorry that I bothered you, I’ll stop,” TK said. Carlos blinked, staring at him incredulously.

“Are you five?” Carlos asked through a breath, almost annoyed that Michelle was right, “Annoying someone isn’t how you flirt with them.”

TK licked his lips and looked around, eyes stopping on the button to put the elevator back in motion. Then he looked back to Carlos.

“Would it be totally out of line for me to ask you to let me try again?” TK asked, that annoying little smile returning despite everything. Carlos let out an exasperated breath.

“For real?”

“I mean,” TK said, laughing softly, “Yeah. I’ll fuck off if you say no, but, like, if you’d be okay with it, can I woo you in a different way?”

“I don’t exactly have faith that you can woo anyone if your go to tactic was being an annoyance,” Carlos said. TK grinned.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it?”

Carlos stared at him and TK stared back for what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time. He kept hearing Michelle’s voice in his head that maybe it was pissing him off so much because he was interested. Wouldn’t hurt to try seemed to be her method.

Carlos breathed out and started the elevator again, staring forward and immediately stepping out when the doors opened.

“Good luck. I’m not easy to win over,” he said simply. TK laughed behind him.

“Come on, Carlos! Have faith!”

Carlos made his way to his car and took a deep breath, sitting in the silence.

For the first time in weeks, he found himself not dreading work the next day.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #my fic #HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY

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emma-nation · 3 years

Text

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 7

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: Thank you for all the reviews, follows and likes! It means a lot to me.

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

Two days had passed and I was still trying to process what was happening. How could my life change so drastically again? I could no longer count on my twin brother, who I considered to be my best friend, the person I trusted the most in the entire world. I was filled by the same emptiness, the same sorrow I felt when my mother died. My life was in the palm of his hands and he was letting me go.

"Relax your shoulders, love," Bela whispered softly in my ear. "You're so tense."

Bela was the only person who still made me smile in the middle of all that chaos. She was helping me to find any clues in the diaries, about Miranda and about Auryk too. But for that, we had to work really fast.

We were sneaking back in the village everyday, it wasn't safe to bring those notes to the castle where Bela's mother and sisters could easily find. I prayed the weather wouldn't change and temperatures remained high. In another case, we wouldn't be able to go to my house again and my time with Lady Dimitrescu was running out.

Meanwhile, we were also working on overcoming my intimacy issues. Being intimate without having sex yet. First, we undressed each other completely. I had to know her body and allow her to know mine. I looked at the perfection of Bela's features for a second, before I was invaded by a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It was the first time I was seeing a woman, completely naked, in front of me.

When I looked at her again, she was gazing at my body like if she was admiring a masterpiece in an art exhibit. At first, I was shy. I blushed and crossed my arms, as if I had any reasons to hide myself. Bela smiled. In that moment I knew she was appreciating me and that made me feel better.

"You're gorgeous, aren't you?" Bela lifted up my chin, forcing me to look at her, to see it in her eyes she was being truthful on her words.

"No more than you," I gathered some courage to move forward and extend my hand, touching a little bit of her soft skin, her arms, her chest, her stomach... then I stopped.

"This is okay," she assured me. But she understood that, in that moment, it was enough for me.

We both entered the bathtub, where I positioned myself in front of Bela and allowed her to take care of me. She gently rubbed my body with a sponge, starting by my back. Then, she moved to my front, rubbing my breasts, my stomach, my tights. Though we were in silence, she seemed to understand my limits, my barriers. Noticing how stressed I looked, she decided to give me a massage. I relaxed my shoulders as she told, focusing myself completely on our moment together.

"It's my turn," I told her. "Let me take care of you?"

Bela nodded and switched positions with me. I offered her the same treatment she gave me, but I wasn't so confident, so precise. My shaking hands would often betray me and I was unsure if I was being too gentle or too rough. Yet, she seemed to be enjoying it. I gave a special attention on washing her hair, it was so beautiful, so soft. The way it barely grew on the spot around her scar was a sin. I hated Miranda even more for that.

She rested her head against my chest as I continued to massage her scalp.

"Does it hurt?" I softly traced her scar with my finger.

"It stings sometimes," she sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"Does it hurt?" Bela repeated my gesture, tracing the scar on my forearm.

"No," she never asked, yet I felt I should tell her how it happened. "Adrian told me he found me in the basement cutting myself, right after my mom died. But I don't remember."

"Trauma can block some painful memories."

I knew that very well. I realized how little I remembered the days after my mother's death. My last memory was seeing her mangled body being carried inside our house. Nothing else. I didn't remember her burial or if I managed to say goodbye. I couldn't remember if we had people visiting us or if I was alone with my father. Everything about those terrible days was a blur.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Office - Present Days

When Lady Dimitrescu called her daughters for a private meeting that morning, Bela couldn't help feeling anxious and scared. Her mother was usually a woman of her word, but when it came to her reputation with Mother Miranda, she'd become completely blind by rage. Alcina really believed her when she suggested Aleena's brother could be responsible for stealing the Lords and also for the attack to the castle, even when the evidences pointed to the opposite.

"I told you so," while they waited outside, Cassandra was smirking deviously. She was determined to do anything to annoy Bela right in the morning. "It won't well for you. Our mother can't betray Mother Miranda and the other Lords because you've fallen in love with a stupid human girl."

"Shut up," Bela decided she wouldn't give in to her provocations. It was Cassandra's favorite manner to extract information from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think we're stupid?" Still, her sister wouldn't stop. "Everyone, except for our mother, has noticed already. Me, Daniela, even Mrs. Volkov. Tell me, Bela. Will you keep pretending when we serve her on a silver plate tonight?"

Bela advanced in her sister's direction. Cassandra quickly dissolved into flies, she did the same. The corridor was a mess of flying insects and buzzing for a few minutes, before they had to shape back into their bodies. Now, she'd finally have the chance to inflict her sister some pain. She pinned Cassandra against the wall.

"Stop, you two," Daniela tried to intervene. "What the hell are you doing?"

Cassandra tried to throw a punch, but Bela was a little faster on her reflects, she grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm.

"What's your problem, Cassandra?" Bela angered. "You can't stand the idea she wasn't one of your trophy maidens, isn't it? Just leave me alone. Leave her alone too."

In that moment, they heard the door opening. Lady Dimitrescu appeared in the corridor, with an ugly snarl on her face.

"What the hell is going on here?" She yelled. "I thought I had daughters, but then I come here and you two are fighting like animals."

Daniela sighed relieved. This time, she wasn't included.

"I'm sorry, mother," Cassandra straightened her dress. "It's Bela who's being a bitch."

"You started it," Bela tried to grab her hair, but she deflected. "You're insulting me from the moment I arrived."

"The three of you! In my office, now!"

Bela couldn't feel guilty this time. Something inside her had changed. She didn't care if her mother was disappointed at her behavior, absolutely no one would touch Aleena. Especially Cassandra.

"It's all about that girl, mother," the middle sister proceeded to tell Alcina. "Bela is in love with her. They've been making out around the castle all the time."

"And this is none of your goddamn business!"

"It is, when your actions are putting us all in danger! Her brother..."

"Stop!" Lady Dimitrescu shouted, making they both go silent. "Is it going to be like this anytime a new woman steps inside this castle?"

No. Not for Bela. She didn't care about other women. Cassandra could have them if she wanted, as long as she stayed away from her girlfriend.

"I agree," Cassandra continued. "It has to end. I vote that we drain her tonight."

"CASSANDRA!" Alcina punched the desk, making her stop instantly. "I didn't call you here to talk about this girl."

A part of Bela was relieved, but she when her eyes crossed with her mother's, the feeling of anxiety started growing inside her. Now she knew about her relationship with Aleena. And her sisters too. She couldn't predict how they'd react.

"I'm going to another meeting with Mother Miranda tonight. I expect to find this castle intact when I return. If I discover my daughters are fighting in my absence, I'll be truly disappointed."

"Yes, mother," Daniela said. "No one is going to fight anymore. Right?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the youngest sister. Bela only gave her an annoyed look.

So that was the reason of their visit to Lady Dimitrescu's office. For now, Aleena was safe. They still had a few days to gather information about Mother Miranda and whatever she was planning. Bela was about to leave after her sisters when her mother called her back. She froze.

"Bela, you stay. We need to talk."

"Yes, mother?" She sat in front of her mother again.

"What were you and Cassandra fighting about?"

"I-I... uh, it's true. I'm in love with Aleena."

Bela decided it was time to stop lying. After all her mother was the person she trusted the most in this world, besides Aleena. Lady Dimitrescu stared at her face emotionless. Bela couldn't figure out what she could be thinking. She looked down, avoiding her mother's intense gaze.

"It's different this time," she explained. Although Alcina never bothered when they got involved with women, she hated the mess it usually caused. Sometimes Cassandra would slaughter her partners in her bedroom or some other place too hard to be cleaned. Daniela fell in love too easily, always having her heart broken when she discovered the subject of her affection was only using her to escape the castle and the fate every servant usually had. In this process, a lot of other things would break too. Such as the castle's furniture and the servant's bones. "I'm doing things right. I even asked her to be my girlfriend."

Bela wouldn't get involved with women so often as her sisters, but when she did, it surely never ended well. They'd become disappointed when they found out she didn't reciprocate their feelings. There would be a lot of arguing, tears and some of them would even dare to call her mother for a talk. In the end, they always died anyways.

She had never been in love before. Until now.

"Girlfriend?!" Lady Dimitrescu eyes widened in surprise and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Bela finally knew what what her mother should be thinking about. The woman she once loved. "Oh Bela..."

"She makes me happy, mother. Like I've never been before."

"And this is exactly what concerns me, daughter. You know how it ends."

"It doesn't have to end that way. I'm controlling my instincts very well and..."

"But she's human and young. She's going to study abroad, meet new people who are just like her. Then, she'll forget you ever existed."

That was the one thing Bela had accepted since the moment she decided to kiss Aleena. Soon, they'd be saying goodbye and there would be nothing left for her, only the memories. Yet, it was worthy. Every moment by Aleena's side was precious.

"I know that," she assured Lady Dimitrescu. "Mother, the only thing I want is your word you're letting her go by the end of this week. Whatever her brother did, Aleena's innocent."

"Okay, daughter," her mother's hand touched hers. The corners of her mouth curled up in a small smile. "I promise you. As long as you promise me you and Cassandra will stop fighting."

"Okay, I'll ignore her provocations. I promise."

"You know your sister, Bela. Cassandra is very attached to our family. She's only jealous most of your attention is being dedicated to Aleena."

"Yeah, I know."

Bela held her mother's hand and smiled back at her.

"Girlfriend..." she was still muttering to herself and shaking her head in denial as Bela stood up and started to walk away. "Well, I suppose there were worse options."

As she opened the office's door, ready to leave, Alcina spoke:

"Bela, take care."

"I will."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

I asked my breakfast to be served in my room. Going to the dining room all by myself was pointless, as Bela and her sisters were reunited with their mother in her office. I wondered what they could be discussing. Was it about me or Auryk?

Anyways, our time was running out. I only had until the end of the week to prove my brother's innocence and expose Miranda's betrayal against the Four Lords. There was only one problem, if Auryk wasn't stealing from the Lords, he wasn't involved in something good either. The manner he spoke to me on the phone, it seemed dangerous and secretive.

And there was Bela. Everytime I remembered the page I ripped off from those diaries I'd feel my chest tightening a little bit. I wouldn't let my brother, and whoever he was working for, lay a finger on her. From the moment I arrived, she was nothing but sweet to me. She always did everything to protect me and I was willing to do the same.

Mrs. Volkov entered the room, bringing a tray of food. She locked the door behind her.

"Ms. Novak, I'd like to speak to you in private for a moment," she asked.

I nodded in agreement.

"I couldn't help noticing Ms. Bela coming and leaving this room very often lately."

"Yes," now I could understand why Cassandra was always threatening the staff with her knifes. Even if Mrs. Volkov was trying to protect me, what I did inside my room was none of her business. I feared she'd tell Alcina. "We're working on a personal issue of mine. And I'd appreciate if this information stays between us only."

"My mouth is shut, Ms. Novak. I only beg you to be careful, I've seen many girls like you going missing or being dragged to the dungeons after getting involved with the mistress' daughters."

Of course she had to remind me of the fact my girlfriend probably has had enough partners to fill both sides of a book page.

"Thank you for your concern."

And of course she had to run right into 'Ms. Bela' as she opened the door to leave.

"Mrs. Volkov," she greeted, polite as she always was. Sometimes I wondered if Bela was so well mannered even when she was killing her victims. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Everything's fine, Ms. Bela. I was only serving Ms. Novak her breakfast."

"Thank you. I suppose we're good for now. I call you if we need anything else."

Bela shut the door, immediately forcing the woman to go away. I asked her to lock it, just in case.

"Good morning, love," she sat by my side at the table and pressed a kiss on my cheek. "I hope you saved me some because I'm starving."

"Hey, didn't you just have breakfast with your mom?"

"Not actually, I refused it. I was waiting to have breakfast with you, like we do every morning."

She smiled, causing butterflies in my stomach.

"Aren't you sweet?" I was kinda expecting her to come. I even asked Mrs. Volkov for an extra cup and plate. I passed it to Bela. "I was hoping you'd come."

I retributed her kiss.

"So, what are doing today?" She wanted to know. "Are we coming back to your house? Or would you like to do something different?"

"I wish, but we have to finish reading the diaries. I only have a few days left before your mom decides what she wants to do to me."

"I spoke to her. She's letting you go by the end of the week."

"Is she?" I asked, to be sure.

Bela nodded in response.

I should be happy with the information, Lady Dimitrescu wasn't going to kill me after all. But I wasn't. I was expecting her to protest and keep me as a prisoner for weeks, months, maybe years as it seemed Auryk wasn't coming back. I wanted to be stuck in that castle for the rest of my life, as long as I had Bela by my side.

"She has a meeting with Mother Miranda tonight," she added. "She usually doesn't come back until the morning. We should do something special."

"Like what?"

"Like a date?"

The concept of having a date was a little bit difficult when you lived in a village that wasn't even in the maps Your options were very limited: going to the nearest town, going to the pub or do something at home. The first two options could not end well as we'd be going too far from the castle or if any villagers recognized Bela.

We could stay in my house and order some food, there was this restaurant in town that would deliver even in that hellhole of a place. We could also watch movies and make out on the couch.

Maybe more. I was desperate for more. Especially now I knew we'd be separated soon. I wanted to enjoy every second of your moments together. Yet, I was insecure. I couldn't help thinking of Mrs. Volkov comment regarding Bela's level of experience.

"I think I have something in mind," I grabbed Bela's hand. "Ready?"

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's House - Present Days

We rod to the village as were doing every day. I was always concerned some other villager could see me and recognize me. At this point, everybody should know about what happened to me. They'd instantly connect the dots if they saw Bela. When we arrived to my house again, I was relieved. Almost. Until I saw the front door had been forced open.

"Oh fuck," I quickly took my daggers before taking another step into the house. "Somebody broke into my house. They may still be in there."

Bela took some kind of blade from her boots too.

"What? I have my tricks too, love." She asked, noticing I was surprised. "Cassandra isn't the only good hunter."

We carefully opened the door. Before I could even do anything, Bela grabbed me and covered my mouth. Her senses were probably detecting something nearby.

"Shhhh," she pointed to her ears. "I can hear something... in the basement."

"But not all of us are vampires," I muttered. When I noticed, Bela had already vanished, turning into flies. I followed her to the basement, after grabbing a rifle. Before I even got there, I already heard a male voice screaming.

"What the fuck?! What are you freaks even doing here?!"

I recognized it before I could even see the figure. But I waited until I was downstairs to confront him.

"Heisenberg. I could ask you the same," I spoke, pointing the rifle at him even if I knew it was useless. "What are you doing here?"

"You," he turned around from the hidden cabinet where the weapons were stored. "Weren't you trapped at Lady Super Sized Bitch's castle?"

"Have some respect talking about my mother," Bela shaped back into her body. "Not that she has any talking about you. So I guess you both are even."

"Oh great, and you brought one of the daughters with you. At least it's the decent one."

"Are you going to explain what you're doing in my house?" I angered. There was a good reason of why that man was there again. Coincidentally when he had a meeting with Miranda later that day. "Let me guess. You're searching for something to take to the Highest Bitch In Charge tonight. Am I right?"

"Wait, wait..." Heisenberg showed his hand as a sign of truce. I lowered the rifle. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Are you searching for something to take to Mother Miranda in the meeting tonight? Because many things are going missing, under mysterious circumstances that are strangely connected to her."

"Do you think Mother Miranda is the one stealing from the Lords?"

I told him about my conversation with Auryk and his suspicions about Miranda's involvement in the situation.

"I knew it!" Heisenberg kicked away an old wooden chair, shattering it to pieces. I shot Bela a confused glance but she also had no idea of what was going on. "I fucking knew it! She's been plotting against us. I always warned my siblings this day would come but they never believed me."

"We're searching for evidence against her," I explained. "To find out what's her plan. Do you have any ideas?"

"Are you sure you can trust her?" He pointed at Bela. "Her mother is the one who kisses Miranda's ass the most. After Moreau, of course."

"Absolutely," I told. "Bela's with me on the matter."

"Sit down, the two of you, and I'll tell you what I know."

We sat on the armchairs we had down the basement. Heisenberg pulled a bottle of whiskey from one of Adrian's secret hideouts. He was about to take a sip directly from the bottle, but I made him serve all of us. Something told me I'd need alcohol to deal with that conversation.

"All these years serving her and we're only her tests subjects, girl. We were all declared a failure upon bitch Miranda's eyes. Me, Lady Super Sized Bitch, the Moronic Freak, the Ugly-Ass Psycho Doll and even this..." Bela scowled at him, letting him know she wouldn't appreciate any offensive nicknames he could have for her, "this girl and her sisters. We're trapped in this village, being forced to decades of humiliation and servitude."

"Are you telling me you don't worship Miranda like your siblings and the villagers?" I tried to understand.

"No!" Heisenberg shouted. "Can't you see? She has taken everything from me. My humanity, my dignity! And now she has found the perfect vessel for her experiments, she's planning to get rid of us."

I drank the entire cup of whiskey in one sip. I looked at Bela, I could see that deep down she shared the same feelings for Miranda as Heisenberg. She tried to follow me, but judging by her face, she wasn't used to that kind of drink.

"I know what it feels like," she took off her helmet, showing the scar on her head and also the tattoo. "I also hate how she treats my mother and she's always too blind to see it. Whenever she returns from a meeting, I can read it on her face. She's disappointed at herself. She's miserable. She's always feeling she isn't enough for Mother Miranda's purposes."

"Fuck! This is what I'm talking about! Look what she's done to you. Don't you think it's time we end this?"

"Okay," I interrupted their moment of mutual pain. "She really fucked up with you guys, so we need to find a manner to stop whatever she's planning."

"Your father," Heisenberg pointed to me. "That bastard also shared my feelings of revenge and hate against that bitch, but for some reason he never accepted to join forces. I knew he had some diaries that contained some important information, do you happen to know where they are?"

Before I could answer, Bela stepped in and spoke for me.

"This is what we've been searching for," she lied. She looked at me, giving me a signal we shouldn't trust Heisenberg completely yet. "Apparently, Aleena's brother has taken it with him."

"And where's the little criminal?"

"I don't know," I said. "Last time we spoke he was acting shady as fuck. Whatever he's involved with, it's not good."

"Hmmm, drugs probably."

"No! I'm pretty sure my brother isn't... what's a vessel, by the way? You said Miranda has found a perfect one for her experiments."

"A person who can achieve a perfect mutation," it was Bela who answered my question. "One without any flaws, any side effects. Unlike me, the Lords or any person that has turned into a Lycan."

"Exactly," Heisenberg added. "One with a body that will be able to revive her daughter."

"What the fuck..." I always knew Miranda was crazy, but not at that point. All those years, she had been misleading the villagers, the Lords only for her personal uses. "And who's this person? Where are they?"

"I don't know, kid. This is what I'm trying to find. If I destroy the vessel, there will be no ritual. And with the right proof in hands I can lead a rebellion against Miranda."

"You can count on me," I extended my hand to Heisenberg. "If I discover anything, I let you know."

"Smart girl," he shook my hand. "You'll have my full support if you need to escape that demonic castle."

"She doesn't!" Bela angered. "Mother is letting her go."

"Okay. If you need anything else then..." Heisenberg shrugged. Then he looked at Bela. "What about you, little Dimitrescu girl? Can we count on you?"

"Of course," she also extended her hand. "But you can't comment a word about this meeting with my mother tonight. She trusts Miranda above anything, she's going to blow up our plans."

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Bedroom - Present Days

While Aleena was taking a shower, Bela caught herself reading the diaries they found. Such a skilled predator should be proud of her achievements. The reports about her family were gruesome, terrifying, tragic. They were called many things, 'witches', 'monsters', 'abominations'...

"Psychotic bitches," definitely the most creative, a name given by Adrian Novak. Bela never had a personal encounter with Aleena's father, but she had definitely heard nasty stories about him, through Lady Dimitrescu and through Aleena herself. She thought of an appropriate nickname for him too and smirked. "Stupid manthing."

She closed the diary and walked to the mirror. Aleena told her to wear one of her clothes. She looked like a normal girl, one of Aleena's age, maybe two or three years older.

If it wasn't for that scar. That damn scar. When she woke up after the transformation, one of the first things she did was asking her mother how she had gotten it. Was it the reason she died? Later, she found out it was the reason why she was still alive. Something had been implanted in her brain, to transform her into... that. What about that tattoo? Young people had tattoos everywhere but certainly not on their foreheads. She was marked as one of the Dimitrescu daughters. Wherever she went, people would recognize her by that. Especially in the village. Countless times she and her sisters had caused panic among those people.

This was why Aleena couldn't take her out for a date. She couldn't take her to the pub, to meet her friends and do other things couples usually did. Bela clenched her fists in rage and frustration.

"Hey," Aleena left the bathroom, wrapped around a towel. "Sorry for taking so long. You look amazing, by the way."

Before heading to her wardrobe, she passed through Bela and planted a small kiss on her lips. She could live like that forever.

In fact, if the weather suddenly changed and the temperature dropped by the next day, she'd be stuck with Aleena in that house for days, months or even years. She could cook and clean the house while she was out for work. She could even find a manner to earn some money herself. She could be an artist and sell paintings. Or maybe a writer, she was a good one. Maybe she even had money already, after all she was the Countess' eldest daughter.

The idea excited Bela a lot... until she looked at Aleena's desk. If she was stuck in that house with her, she'd be giving up on her dreams of living in California and study in that Art Institute. And Aleena deserved that. More than any person she ever met.

It wouldn't last and she knew it. She always knew it.

"Selfish psychotic bitch," she muttered to herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Living Room - Present Days

I couldn't take my mind off my conversation with Heisenberg. I didn't even know how I was supposed to feel. I already hated Miranda before, but now I got the confirmation of the things Bela told me. She was nothing more than an experiment gone wrong and that woman was about to get rid of her and the others. I also thought about Alcina and Donna, who had no idea of what she was planning and trusted her blindly.

I also wondered, who was her perfect vessel? Was it someone from the village? Was it someone she had kidnapped? A million questions were going through my mind.

As soon as I finished getting dressed, Bela had sunk into one of her bad moods, where she became quiet and introspective, after acting normal all day. I already knew her enough to know something happened while I was in the shower and it was consuming her inside. Because as her own mother described, Bela felt everything very intensely.

"Would you like to go back to the castle?" We were in the living room, waiting for our dinner to be delivered. "We can go after dinner if you want."

"No," she said. I had turned on Auryk's video game console. Bela was quite curious about the game I was playing. Her eyes moved quickly as she observed every detail on the screen. "Not yet."

"Do you need to feed?"

"No, I'm okay."

I paused the game. Whatever happened, nothing seemed to distract Bela from it. She was quiet as in the morning she fought her mom or that night in her bedroom, before we kissed for the first time.

"Okay... why don't you tell me what happened? I left you alone in my room for some minutes and now you're upset."

Bela took a deep breath, as if she was trying to recompose herself and leave her emotions aside for the night.

"I'm not upset, love," she told me. "I'm focused."

"On what?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"If you don't move to the left side, like this," Bela took the controller from my hands, unpausing the game and making a move herself. "You're going to get yourself killed."

And she was right. Apparently her vampire senses worked for literally anything.

"Know what?" I turned off the console. "I'm done with this for the night. I already know I wouldn't be able to beat you if we played against each other anyways."

"What a sore loser," Bela finally let out a laugh. Mission accomplished, I was able to get her out of her bad mood.

"We'll see about that later."

"Will we?"

She lay on top of me, staring deeply into my eyes in an attempt to look dangerous. She pressed her lips against mine and I wrapped my arms around her body pulling her as closer as possible. Bela deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue inside my mouth. The way her tongue massaged mine, the way our bodies were moving together, the way my hands were exploring every inch of her perfect body... I was feeling things I had never experienced before. A heat that spread through every part of me. She finished her kiss biting my lower lip, leaving me stunned, breathless.

"I'm sorry, I got too carried away," she said, when we stopped. "We're almost setting ourselves on fire here."

"No, I want more," as I gazed into her beautiful golden yellow eyes, I couldn't be more sure. "I want us to burn."

Bela raised one eyebrow suggestively, as if she was trying to confirm what I had just told her. I let out a small laugh and nodded in confirmation.

"Then..." she pressed another kiss on my lips, "we should head back to your bedroom. Don't you think?"

I was about to give her an answer when the door bell rang. It was the delivery service bringing our dinner.

"Fuck, I had totally forgotten," I took a deep breath, trying to recompose myself.

"We can resume from where stopped later, if you want."

----------

I wanted it. I definitely wanted it, but I was too nervous for my own sake. If I didn't calm down, I'd end up ruining things. I remembered the night I invited a girl I was dating to my house. Even after having a lot of alcohol to calm my nerves and get me in the mood, I panicked. I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom until she went away. Needless to say she never wanted to see me again.

To try to distract myself, after dinner I sat down on my desk, reading carefully a page of the diary in front of me. The calligraphy was barely readable. Apparently that one belonged to my grandfather, Erik Novak, during his teenage years.

"March 13, 1962

The Lycan attacks have intensified during these days. It's almost impossible to even leave the house. My poor sister, Astrid, has been attacked while she was outside tending for the animals. We don't expect her to survive. The infection has spread to her whole body. Father suggested we put an end to her misery. Mother is still hoping for a miracle. We called Mother Miranda for guidance."

I felt a shiver going down my spine. It was almost like I could watch that scene playing in my mind, like a movie. I held the picture of Astrid, her beautiful dark hair and soft facial features. Such a terrible fate she was victim of. Why did my family still insisted on living in that goddamn place for generations after such a tragedy?

"Okay, I finally picked one," Bela emerged in my bedroom. She was in the living room, too amazed by my Netflix account. With so many movie options in front of her, she didn't know where to start. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I closed the diary. "I was just reading an entry while you chose. My grandfather's sister, she was bitten by a Lycan."

"It seems to happen quite often in your family. One of the diaries I read also reported a Lycan attack."

"It's like a family curse. In my generation, it was my mom. But in her case, there was not even time to develop an infection."

Family drama. Nothing related to the clues we were searching for. I decided to not think about anything else related to that village, Auryk or even Miranda for the next few hours. I wanted to enjoy my time with Bela, exclusively.

"So, let's see what you chose, Ms. Dimitrescu."

For my surprise, Bela had picked a Disney movie. I thought it was extremely cute, I was kinda expecting her to choose something classical or even an horror movie.

"Do you like this one?" She asked.

"I love it," I wrapped an arm around her shoulders as we sat down on the couch. "And I'll love it even more now it's the first movie we watch together."

I didn't make any interruptions as we watched the movie. Bela seemed so entertained, so genuinely happy. I remembered she probably had never seen a movie before. I didn't see any TVs inside the castle. If they even had one, they didn't have access to Netflix or any other modern features. I simply enjoyed the sensation of having her in my arms or the sensation of caressing her hair. I learned to appreciate the sound of her laugh more than anything in this world. When we met, I'd rarely hear it and now it was something she did often.

The world was easier when we were alone, just the two of us. Two lonely, misfit and traumatized individuals. Bela seemed to be the only person who understood my feelings, and I was this person for her too.

When the first movie ended, I asked if she wanted to see another one. She told me to choose this time and I picked a romance. With a happy ending.

God, we deserved to have a happy ending too. We both had gone through so much already. I had to stop Miranda. I couldn't let her take Bela from me.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Bedroom - Present Days

It was already two in the morning when we returned to my bedroom.

"Are you sure your mother isn't going to freak out or anything?" I asked as we prepared the bed. "Cassandra is definitely going to tell her. If she gets mad the claws will come out to play and it's kinda scary."

"As long as the dragon remains inside, we're okay," the corners of Bela's mouth curled up in a smile.

"Dragon?!"

"Nevermind, it's a joke. A myth the villagers invented. Don't worry, I don't think she's going to mind. I told her about us this morning and she took it very well."

"This is quite a surprise."

We lay on the bed and my heart started thundering inside my chest. I wasn't sure if she remembered what we started before dinner and that I had intentions of resuming later.

"I wish we could have this everyday," she spoke softly, when we were face to face. "This is the reason why I was upset."

"Why does it upsets you?" I asked.

"While I was here alone, I kinda wished the temperature would drop and I'd be stuck here with you for a while. Then I realized I was being selfish."

"You're not selfish. To be honest, I kinda wished the same. I don't wanna go away. I want to stay with you, forever."

Bela took my hand, holding it very tightly for a few seconds and then, she released.

"You can't, Aleena. You don't deserve this life, in this place. You deserve more. You deserve to go after your dreams, move to California, go to college, be with a girl that actually deserves you."

"I don't want another girl, Bela. I want you. I want you the way you are, with your virtues and also your flaws. That's what made me fall in love with you."

I'd usually let her take the lead, but this time I kissed her, hard and desperate. I didn't want to think about the idea of being away from her. Or being with somebody else. Even if we couldn't be outside most of the time. Even if I had to work on the pub for the rest of my life. Even if she needed to drink human blood. I didn't mind if my friends or my brother never accepted my relationship with her. In that moment, I had everything I ever wanted and I wouldn't waste it. I couldn't wish for anything else.

When I realized, I felt her hand going down my shirt, caressing my stomach.

"Do you still want to do this?" She asked.

"More than anything."

I knew Bela had probably done that a thousand times before, but I wondered if she was always so tender, so careful. She knew that was an important moment to me, I was letting down the last of my emotional barriers for her, so she acted cautiously on every move she made next.

First, she kissed me again for a very long time. I assumed she was giving me enough time to think if I was truly prepared. Then, her mouth placed a trail of kisses for all the way down to my neck.

We undressed each other, Bela lay on top of me and as she kissed me again, I couldn't stop thinking how good it was the feeling of having her naked body so close to mine. This time, I felt confident enough to explore parts of her I wasn't prepared the last time.

"What?" I asked when we parted and she gazed deeply into my eyes. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"I have something to confess, love," she opened a beautiful smile. "I'm a little nervous too."

"Come on. Mrs. Volkov was scolding me this morning, telling me I was only one of the many women she saw leaving your bedroom."

"Yes, but it's the first time I do it with a woman I'm in love with."

It was my turn to smile. With my hand on her chest, I sensed how quick her heart was beating too.

"Well," I whispered seductively in her ear, "she's very in love with you too. So you don't have to be nervous."

"Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

I nodded in agreement and pulled her face for another kiss. As Bela's hands traveled through my body, caressing my inner tights, I was shivering in anticipation. By the time she touched me where I wanted her the most, my first reaction was to shudder.

"How does that feel?" She wanted to know. "Do you like it, love?"

"Yes!" I threw my head back as her fingers continued to stroke my center. "Oh my god, yes. Please don't stop."

"I don't plan to. We're only getting started."

I was still nervous. I didn't know how I was supposed to act. Should I do something to please her too? Should I be silent? Because I was fighting so hard against the wild impulses inside of me, that wanted to moan and scream Bela's name as loud as I could. I buried my mouth on her collarbone trying to muffle a moan.

"This is okay," she stopped for a second, looking at me with those gorgeous eyes. "Just relax. You're being perfect."

I simply nodded in agreement. I just wanted her to continue what she was doing, but she had other plans in mind...

"What about now?" Bela inserted one finger inside me and started to move, slow and gentle. "Does it hurt?"

"N-No... this feels great..." I could barely form a coherent sentence anymore. In fact, I noticed I had stopped breathing. Yes, I could die right now and I'd die a happy woman. Was that what my father was trying to protect me from with his sick ritual? I couldn't be more happier to have broken his rules. I couldn't be more happier I waited and did exactly I was told to stay away from.

My heart was racing really fast. I felt all my muscles were starting to become tense. Bela inserted another finger inside me, moving a little bit faster and harder, but still making sure she wasn't causing me any pain.

And in that moment, I completely lost myself. My back arched and my whole body started to tremble under her body. Bela held me tightly. I relaxed too, wrapping my arms around her.

"Are you okay, love?"

"More than okay," I answered between pants. "To be honest, I think I've never felt so great before."

"Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Yes, you can now show me how I can please you."

We switched positions and Bela guided my hand as I tried to follow the same path as she did. She also rocked her hips to meet my rhythm. I wasn't so confident as she was. I was afraid I could do anything that could hurt her. But she was a patient teacher and I was a quick learner. Soon, she was already trembling in my arms too and I knew I had done it right.

I thought we were done with the best part, but I was wrong. After pressing one final kiss on my lips, Bela rested her head on my chest and said words I'd never forget.

"I love you."

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela x f!oc #bela x oc #resident evil fanfiction #the devil in i

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professional-benaddict · 4 years

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Mafia Daddies Stephen and Tony taking over a smol café for a meeting and Peter is their waiter >:)

ive left jensen babe hanging with this for wEeks but i think i managed to scramble together smth!! and that smth includes Tony being an absolute Whore and having a Danger Kink™️

Mafia bosses and husbands Stephen and Tony, bodyguards Steve and Bucky, waiter Peter, mafia aus, threats and use of violence, manipulation, Tony just being That Bitch and embarrassing his husband

“Why are we here?” Bucky’s tone is as grumpy as ever, and Tony rolls his eyes. The man had practically hissed the words out, putting as much force into it as possible without angering his bosses too much, nor causing a big scene.

“You know, the Petersons have been causing all sorts of trouble for us. We’re making a plan of action.” Stephen replies, so that Tony does not have to. The aggression in Bucky’s voice rolls off Stephen like water on a duck. He is not bothered at all, which he rarely is. That is what makes him a good boss, not that Tony does not have other qualities that makes him just as good as his husband. They complete one another in that way. And in a way, Bucky and Steve do that as well, in their roles as the second pair in charge, just below Stephen and Tony.

“No, I mean, why are we here?” Bucky rephrases. If Steve were with him, he would give Tony that infamous look, which signals that he is questioning him. Even with the blonde guard on stand by, and not present with them, Tony feels his presence along with Bucky’s snarky question.

Out of all the places in the world, the three men are meeting in a café. The place is small, but designed purposely in a way to maximise the space completely. It is almost impressive how much they have fit in here without the space feeling like it is suffocating you. Instead, it feels homey, and it smells like fresh coffee and baked goods.

It is just after 8 am, so the morning rush is coming to an end as the sun rises higher and its’ rays do not feel as harsh and blinding anymore. Still, Tony is wearing his sunglasses where he is sat next to his husband Stephen. Besides being very stylish and framing his face nicely, the shades serve another purpose. It lets Tony’s scanning and calculating gaze go undetected. And just like he was briefed the day before, the café is does not have any security cameras. In addition, the gang of four have taken up the largest table in the café, and with how intimidating they look in their black clothing, no one will sit down next to them on the surrounding tables. No cameras, no prying gazes nor eavesdropping ears. Perfect. However, they will wait a few more minutes before starting on the agenda of the their meeting. They have not ordered their coffee of choice yet either.

“Hi! What would you like today? Black, no sugar? Gotcha!”

The sound of a chirpy voice catches Tony’s attention, and he turns his head a bit, as if to see what Stephen is doing on his phone, but actually his gaze is looking somewhere beyond his husband. He looks towards the counter of the café where an adorable, 20-something boy is stood in a dark brown apron, fixing the coffee machines with the speed and precision of an experienced worker. The warm brown curls on top of his head bounce around his ears and the nape of his neck as he moves. They look silky, freshly washed, and perfect to tug on. The boy perfectly fits the profile Tony got from the briefing. This is him, the cute boy who will be covering the café all by himself until 10 am. The place is all theirs, and Tony smirks to himself before finally looking away as the boy hands the finished coffee to the waiting customer.

“Because, I want to have a good cup of coffee, and some fun.” Tony tells Bucky to answer his question about why they are at the café and not at base. “Is that too much to ask, Barnes? I know you don’t smile often, but you must at least be able to appreciate a good, hot drink now and then.”

“I do like to drink.” Bucky replies dryly.

“I don’t mean that way.” Tony corrects.

“All right.” Stephen cuts off by rising from his seat. Always the diplomat, Tony thinks. “I’ll go and order. What would you like?”

Tony and Bucky make their requests in, and watch as Stephen heads to the counter. He returns a few moments later, and once more the group of three fall silent and watch the boy make their coffee behind the counter. There is no one else in the café now, just the way that they planned it all.

“He’s cute.” Tony comments to Stephen quietly. With the way Stephen is sat sideways next to him, Tony cannot see his husband’s eye roll, but he knows he did it anyway.

“You just had one yesterday. Keep it together. We’re just here for business, so please… Don’t mess it up.” Stephen replies quietly, and looks over at Tony to show that he is serious. But, Tony makes no promises, and sits back to watch the boy behind the counter again. Thanks to the sunglasses, Tony does not have to politely avert his gaze when the boy heads over with their drinks on a tray. The man is unapologetic with his staring, and if he was a cartoon character, he would be drooling long ago.

“Here you go! Who’s got the espresso?”

Tony lifts his hand a bit, and thanks the boy as he sets his drinks down. Stephen and Bucky do the same with their black coffees that the waiter sets in front of them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Tony asks the boy.

“Peter! Peter Parker, sir.” The boy replies with a bright smile, tucking the empty tray under one arm. “Been working here for just over two years now, and I love it.”

“Really? You seem like a natural, that’s for sure.” Tony continues, letting his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to peer at Peter from above them.

“Oh, thanks!” Peter beams, seemingly a bit taken off guard by being complimented by a complete stranger. “Well, I really do hope you enjoy your drinks. If there’s any problems, I’d be happy to re-make it.”

Next to Tony, Stephen clears his throat after taking a sip of his drink. He shoots his husband a warning look, then adds quietly.

“Honey…”

“Oh, I’m sure it is absolutely perfect.” Tony continues without caring at all about Stephen’s warning. Bucky is sat quietly with his drink, since he has no business to interfere with this, not when he is second in charge.

Flattered once more, Peter laughs a little nervously, but does not shy away from Tony’s eyes. Just when he turns to leave, Tony stops him by pressing his gun against the boy’s hip. Peter halts when he feels the harsh pressure, and looks down at the gun with a mix of horror and confusion. His mouth gapes when he looks at Tony, just a second away from asking what is going on. Tony speaks before he has time to do so.

“There is one thing… Would you mind switching the sign so it says it’s closed? We’re about to talk some serious business, and we’d hate to be disturbed.”

“I’m- I’m going to ask you to leave.” Peter states, and the two other men raise their heads at the command. Stephen scans the scene, where Tony and Peter are frozen and looking at one another intensely. It is almost like, Tony is holding the boy at gunpoint, and Stephen sighs audibly when he realises that his husband is doing exactly that.

“Honey.” Unlike earlier, Stephen’s voice is sharp now. Once more, Tony ignores his husband’s warnings.

“We haven’t even enjoyed the coffee you made us, sweetheart. I’d hate to let something so good just go down the drain. That would be a shame, don’t you agree?” Tony continues, still looking at Peter through his sunglasses. “So, why don’t you-“ Tony halts mid-sentence and from beside him, Stephen tenses and sits up.

“Peter… Put it down.”

The boy has got the sharp blade of a pocket knife up against Tony’s throat, resting just above his trachea, and with the tip pointing at the artery on the side of his neck. The knife is cheap, probably bought somewhere online, but it is quite beautiful still. Both the blade and handle have a multicolour holographic effect, and it looks like the metal and plastic have been dipped in oil. But, aesthetics aside, the knife is still dangerous, at least as long as it is pressed against one’s neck.

“I’m not doing anything.” Peter stresses through gritted teeth, and challenges Tony’s gaze by looking at him even more intensely. The older man can see that he has tucked away his fear somewhere, because all he can see in his brown eyes now is rage. And incredible beauty.

“Well, whatever it is that you are, or aren’t doing, you look stunning while doing it.” Tony drawls with a purr, shooting Peter his best and cockiest smirk. The boy looks amused, but only for a split second before adding more pressure to his blade.

Based on the briefing of this café, Tony would never have thought it would end up like this. The chirpy and bouncy personality is just a facade. The little bastard has been armed this whole time. Tony takes it as a compliment that he was the only that brought out the self-defence response in the waiter boy. But, as fun as this is, it is still a bit humiliating to be put on the spot in front of his second in-command, Bucky. The guard might just be plotting a coup right in this moment, considering just how weak Tony is being now. Time to turn that around.

“Okay, sweetheart, how about we make a deal?” Tony offers, but suddenly averts his gaze to the door. Another customer has entered, and both he and Peter hide their weapons.

For a second, Peter hesitates with heading back to the counter. It is like he is asking Tony permission to leave, or rather daring him to stop him from doing his job. Accepting defeat, for now, Tony nods towards the counter, and Peter heads off without a word.

“You, fucking idiot!” Stephen hisses to Tony, just quiet enough for the other customer to not hear.

“Quite an eventful morning, huh? Perhaps I underestimated this place.” Bucky muses with a chuckle and sips at his coffee. “We should definitely come back. And this coffee is quite good, actually.”

“Shut it. He’s coming back.” Stephen points out in a hushed whisper.

It seems like the customer sensed an uncomfortable atmosphere and left before Peter could ask if they wanted anything. For a second it looks like the waiter is leaving as well, but he just heads to flip the card saying ‘open’ to ‘closed’ instead. Still, Tony takes note on how the boy does not lock the door. If he had a nose like an apex predator, he could probably catch the scent of fear from the boy.

“You’re scaring away my costumers.” Peter states bravely, crossing his arms as he stops by Tony and his gang’s table.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony coos condescendingly. “Do you need some extra tip to make up for it? I must say, your coffee was excellent, but-“

“Ten.”

“Ten dollars?”

“Ten thousand.”

Stephen sputters over his coffee.

“What do you-“

“For all the trouble you’ve caused, and for me being quiet about everything. And don’t pretend like you don’t have that kind of money, because you do. So, give me it, and then get out of here.”

Tony chuckles once, then he laughs merrily, but Peter does not falter.

“With what? You can’t threaten me, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing, so we can just walk out of here. And I think we will do just that.” Tony says and claps his hands together to signal that this conversation is over. He rises along with his husband and guard, but suddenly the man stumbles back into his chair. The waiter just tripped him? “What the fuck-“

“Sure, walk out.” Peter starts with a smile, but his face quickly drops into a death stare. “And I will turn over the video I recorded on my phone of you threatening me to the police.”

“You-“

“I started recording as soon as you came in. I knew you guys were trouble, and look? I was right. So, ten thousand. Now.”

“You, little shit…” Tony says through gritted teeth, but a hint of a smirk still lingers on his lips as he gazes at Peter in front of him.

How did he get so lucky?

“Steph, darling, could you write the waiter a cheque? And add my number on the back of it.”

“I won’t call you.” Peter deadpans.

“Oh, I think you will.” Tony chuckles, then adds in a lower, and much more sinister tone. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me.”

If Tony could not smell the fear on Peter before, he definitely does it now. And he loves it.

#my prompts #jensen babe #mafia!tony #starker #ironspider #starkerstrange #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #james bucky barnes #ask

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 3 years

Text

When We Were Young (Part V)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, a little dirty (not quite smut, but a bit steamy).

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

You opened your eyes slowly, panicking when you didn’t realize where you were. Your body went into fight or flight mode, but you breathed in deeply to calm yourself and smelt whiskey, leather, and vanilla. Dean, you thought to yourself smiling and letting out the breath you were holding, when the night returned to you all at once. Every word you confessed to Dean flashed through your memory, like a “previously on...” TV opener.

You told him everything...

Suddenly you felt sick and leaned over his bed afraid you might vomit. Your mind was going a million miles an hour, spiraling again thinking the complete worst. What did he think of you? He must be disgusted by what you did. Horrified and couldn’t wait for you to do the right thing and leave the brothers again.

Your thoughts were propelling you out of bed and into a standing position, swaying back and forth a little with the lack of oxygen to your brain. It was as if your thoughts were completely taking over and your body acted on autopilot. You were to your room with your one bag packed quickly, pulling on a sweatshirt over your shirt and sweat pants, not caring how you presented yourself at the moment. It was almost 1:00pm and you figured you could make it to at least Utah by the end of the day if you sped. The boys had plenty of random vehicles in the garage, they wouldn’t miss one, right?

You were still lost in your thoughts as you rushed down the hallway and into the war room, gripping the cold staircase railing when you heard shuffling behind you. You hadn’t noticed that Sam was sitting at the war room table shuffling through some papers that he quickly hid in a folder when you breezed past him.

“Y/N?” He questioned, taking in your packed bag and your hand on the railing. Your cursed to yourself under your breath, certain that you could have gotten away undetected had you been more clear-headed. Smarter. What kind of hunter were you even? You hadn’t meant it necessarily, but your irrational thoughts were working much faster than your brain was, and you answered your own rhetorical question with a resounding, I’m not one. You hadn’t been a hunter for a long time and it was undeniable the longer you attempted to face your past. And if you weren’t a hunter you were definitely useless to the Winchesters.

Sam had long ago risen to his feet waiting for any kind of motion from you, but he noticed you seemed to be muttering to yourself softly, and it worried him. After confessing to him in the bathroom, Dean had recounted Y/N’s story to his brother, leaving out some of the more private things they spoke about last night. But Sam got the gist of the conversation, and being a researcher first and foremost, was up early printing out pages on trauma survivors, hoping something would help. One of the first articles he was skimming when you rushed in reminded the reader that survivors would try to return to the safety of what they considered “normal,” especially after confiding in a loved one about their trauma. The bag and Y/N’s tense shoulders made sense. She was running from what happened last night and Sam didn’t blame her. It was hard enough keeping Dean relatively calm this morning and convincing him to not run away from what he was feeling. He only hoped you were able to accept Dean and his help.

“Y/N...” Sam repeated, wipeing his palms on his jeans lightly, full of nervous energy. He wasn’t scared of what you might say or do, but he was scared of messing up and pushing you further away. He had to reel you back in a little so that you knew you didn’t have to run away.

You still weren’t looking at him, but stood stiffly on the stairs leading up to the bunker exit. It wouldn’t take more than 12 steps and you could be gone. Just move your feet! But they wouldn’t cooperate, and instead you were completely frozen.

“Y/N, listen.” Sam continued, staring at your back. “You don’t have to run. Dean and I,” you glanced back and saw him looking around for his brother and you wondered the same thing. Was Dean trying to escape you too?

“We’re here for you.” Sam finished, begging you with his eyes to back away from the steps and put your bag down. Ah, you thought to yourself. Dean told him. So both brothers knew your worst moment... Knowing this didn’t make you feel any better, and you felt your stomach tighten again, thinking of the younger Winchester when he was just a kid and how innocent he was. Eyes still full of life and so much energy. He would have hated you, your mind told you harshly. He probably hates you now.

You had to know. You had to see Sam’s face clearly right now and look into his eyes so you could see what he thought. If you felt he held any animosity toward you, you would leave. That was easy enough.

Willing your legs to move, you turned around slowly, bag still held tight in your hand. The corners of Sam’s mouth lifted up a bit when you finally met his eyes, which were a bright grey, almost white from far away. This color always reminded you of clouds and bright sunny days, and you knew instantly that Sam wasn’t angry with you. The thought took your breath away and you launched yourself forward into Sam’s open arms, gripping the back of his shirt tightly, like he was the only thing keeping you afloat. Knowing he wasn’t angry had you feeling every emotion you were trying to repress since you stood up from Dean’s bed. Before you knew it, loud sobs were racking your body and you were attempting to speak at the same time, trying to relay all of your thoughts to Sam.

“I thought you’d hate me, Sam,” you hiccuped out, voice muffled from his flannel. “I killed someone. I can’t ever take that back, and I thought that I would see nothing but hate and anger in your eyes when I finally saw you.” You didn’t slow down, shaking as Sam rubbed both hands up and down your back holding you close while you cried. “Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t bear to feel the way I had felt for so long.” You tensed a little, confessing to Sam what was really weighing on your chest making it hard to breath. You didn’t want to hurt Greg, but you didn’t want to be hurt anymore either.

“Shhh.” Sam shushed you quietly, trying to get you to calm down a little so that he could speak. You hiccuped a few more times, eyes red and raw from crying so hard. When your breathing was less jumpy, Sam raised your chin a little so that you were looking into his grey eyes again. “Listen.” He attempted to use Dean’s tone, trying to make you listen intently, and it made you giggle quietly, as he failed to capture the way Dean made people listen. But you continued looking into his eyes, so he knew you were listening.

“The situation you were in... I couldn’t imagine. And I could never judge you for reacting in the way you did. You didn’t have a choice, and I could never be angry with you for protecting yourself at a time when we all should have been protecting you.” Sam hid his eyes from you quickly. Damn these selfless Winchesters, you thought to yourself huffing out a sigh. They would always blame themselves for things completely out of their control. Sam looked into your eyes again and they were a light blue, and you read guilt on his face.

You shook your head in response. “You don’t get to do that Sam. There is nothing you could have done.” Your tone was final, and looking more and more like the little boy that you remember, Sam nodded his head obediently. You nodded back, glad that was decided.

There was a cough from the doorway, and you both spun around laying eyes on a grinning Dean. He must have listened silently to much of your guy’s conversation, and Sam shuffled awkwardly next to you. But you took in the older Winchester, wearing a simple black shirt and the old jean flannel that you loved, staring right back at you, arms crossed leaning against the door frame.

“I’m glad you two got a chance to talk.” He finally spoke out, his voice level and comforting. Sam nudged you gently, and you smirked at him. You saw the smile on Dean’s face fade away when he saw the bag you had dropped by the staircase when you rushed to hug Sam. His younger brother traced his gaze, and cleared his throat, muttering something about more research, rushing out of the room.

Dean turned his gaze to you again questioning. You wouldn’t look directly at him, so he approached you slowly, cautious like his brother had been. You crossed your arms across your chest protectively when he came close to you, and he placed his hands near your elbows, simultaneously grounding you and making you want to run far away from the way he made you feel.

“Baby,” He whispered gently, tone different in the light of the day. “Why would you leave?” You shrugged still refusing to look at him, but he wouldn’t take that as an answer. His eyes narrowed in warning, and you sighed, suprisingly feeling newfound courage after last night.

“I knew you two would hate me after what I told you. I didn’t want to see it on your faces. Especially not yours...” Dean continued to stare at you, and you finally made eye contact, his eyes darkening in a way that was unreadable to you. He opened his mouth a couple times, snapping it closed immediately after, unsure of how to begin this conversation.

“Why would we ever hate you, Y/N?” Though you knew deep down that everything you were thinking and feeling today was irrational, you still scoffed at the question, pulling away from his reach. His hands stayed in the same position they had been resting on your arms, but he snapped them down to his sides after a beat, looking exhausted again. You hated seeing him this way, and you wanted to smooth down the creases that were appearing under his eyes and between his brow. Though you were the one that stepped away, your body urged you back toward him, and you stepped forward, wanting to be near him again. He kept looking at you with the same questioning look, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. The lies and the secrets that continued to weight on your chest. You haven’t breathed normally since you were a silly teenager tailing after Dean Winchester. Perhaps he was the one person who could take you back to that moment. Help you breath normally again.

“I killed someone, Dean.” You spoke quietly, but with conviction, suddenly wanting Dean to know all of you. “And then I just disappeared. Left everything and everyone behind, and started a new life. I was scared, and hurt, and I never, after all these years, dealt with what I did.” You were so close to Dean you could smell the faint smell of his cologne, but he didn’t attempt to hold you in place again. You didn’t know where this conversation was taking you, but you wanted him to understand what was happening in your mind.

“When I ran, all I wanted to do was find you and Sam. I missed you so much.” You felt tears spring to your eyes, and though you didn’t really want to cry in front of Dean, you were trying hard to allow yourself to simply feel your emotions after all of these years. You knew it wasn’t going to happen instantly, but you were attempting to heal yourself. Finally. “All I wanted was you...” You breathed out your final thought, looking directly into Dean’s eyes, which held emotion, but you couldn’t tell which.

“But all I kept thinking was how much you and Sam would hate me for what I did. I mean it was like the first thing John and my dad taught us, ‘saving people, and hunting things.’ Greg wasn’t a monster. He was a person.” Dean finally lifted one of his hands and ran it comfortingly up and down your arm.

“Baby, he was hurting—“ but you cut him off, trying to control the volume of your voice.

“And I didn’t have to kill him!” Tears were rushing down your cheeks now as you thought of Greg’s body lying lifeless in front of you, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much you tried to heal, you couldn’t get that image out of your head.

“And you were only 13, Y/N.” Dean argued back, returning his arms to your shoulders, anchoring you in place. “And you had been taught to arm and protect yourself when there was danger. You are and have always been a hunter.” He let his words hang in the air as you continued to cry, big tears sliding down your face and dripping onto your sweatshirt. You had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself again, protecting yourself from both your emotions and Dean, no matter how irrational it was.

“Come here,” Dean muttered, pulling you close to him, though you didn’t unwrap your arms. He held you tightly as you silently cried, tired of dealing with your emotions for the moment. You realized Dean never answered the question that was bouncing around in your mind.

“Do you hate me, Dean?” You whispered into his chest. You weren’t even sure he heard you, but you felt him take a deep breath preparing himself to say something. Dean waited a beat, enjoying having you close to him before he decided to pull you away and speak what was on his heart.

“Baby, I am so ridiculously in love with you, there is not an inch of room for hate, or judgement, or any of the other fears you have of how I would react to what you told me last night.” Dean didn’t speak fast, making sure each of his words were leveled and that you heard them. And you had, staring at him open mouthed, barely believing the words that were tumbling from his mouth. Even though you heard him loud and clear you asked him to repeat it.

“What did you just say?” He gave you a gentle exasperated look and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since before I even realized what the feeling of love was.” You continued to stare and he rewarded you with a full smile, clearly relieved to confess this to you. He lifted his hand slowly to cup your cheek and wipe away at the tears drying on them. You didn’t know what to say to him, but he didn’t seem to care, only continuing to smile at you.

“You know, I used to skip out on hunts constantly when I knew that you would be hanging out at Bobby’s. I didn’t want you to be alone, but I wanted to be around you more than I wanted to go after monsters. I would’ve chosen ‘hide & seek’ over hunting every time if I could’ve...” He trailed off lost in thinking about the woulda, coulda, shouldas, and the life we could have had.

“You skipped out on hunts?” You questioned, your voice quiet and a little gruff from crying. He nodded looking down at your sheepishly. “You told me John wouldn’t let you go on certain hunts after certain monsters. I figured it was just too dangerous.” Your voice sounded a bit accusatory, and you didn’t mean it that way, but your mind was racing thinking about all the small things Dean did when you were younger that might have been him telling you he loved you.

“Yeah...” Dean ran his hand through his short hair nervously.

“I didn’t want you to know I was choosing to not go. I still wanted you to think I was a badass hunter, but I wanted to spend time with you more.” He looked so cute confessing to you, and you finally smiled thinking about all of the time you had together, getting to know each other, because Dean chose to allow for it. You were so grateful to him in that moment for giving you some of the happiest days of your life.

His hand was still cupping your cheek, and you glanced up at him giving him a real smile, probably the most real smile you’ve used in a long time. Dean noticed and awarded you with one of his own before turning a bit serious.

“Y/N...” He started, looking determined, but nervous, and maybe a little scared. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at his question and nodded your head, staring up into forest green eyes.

Dean leaned slowly forward, cupping your cheek with his other hand as well, and placed his lips lightly to yours. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. The rest of Dean was rough and course from years of working, but his lips were ridiculously soft, and you leaned into him deepening the kiss. You felt the rumble of a light groan in Dean’s chest as you pressed against him harder. His hands moved to your waist and yours rested across his shoulders. You felt his tongue dart out against your lips, asking for permission, and you opened your mouth slowly, letting his tongue explore.

You were lost in the kiss when you heard a cough from the doorway. Dean reluctantly broke away turning toward his brother with an annoyed look on his face. You swiped at your lips quickly, trying to compose yourself. Sam looked guilty, but also a little scared and you grabbed onto Dean’s arm to ground yourself.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” Sam started with a grimace. “I just got a call from Bobby... Apparently someone was just at his house.”

Dean scoffed next to you and you gripped his arm a bit harder, figuring this had to be going somewhere. “So?” Dean grunted out, anxious for his brother to get to the point.

Sam didn’t waiver under his brother’s annoyance, but rather got more serious.

“Dean... he said someone was looking for Y/N.”

Read part VI here.

When We Were Young Tag List: @woundedxsmile @vicmc624

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural family #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #dean x reader #spn fanfic #dean x fem!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #spn famdom

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 3 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Dinner is about as awkward as waving back at someone you think's waving at you, only to then realize they're actually waving at someone else.

Frisk stares at your guest from beginning to end, only looking back to their bowl when they’re done with it. They grab a piece of bread and soak up what little soup remains at the bottom and say, “You’re not a bad cook", after. They take a bite off the bread; the rest of it disappears in three more. “Is this ren's way of testing whether you'll be a good boyfriend or not?”

Sans swallows hard and coughs once to recover as he sets his spoon down. “Well, uh… Somethin’ like that, I guess.” He casts a subtle glance at you, his gaze asking for help.

“We’re not dating,” you intervene. You take some soup, but end up throwing it back in the bowl when your hand shakes, too tense to continue eating. “You and Jerry just so happened to walk in at the wrong moment, making it look like something else.”

Frisk frowns, and a dull expression reaches their eyes. “I can tell you’re lying, ren. You’re bad at it.” Their gaze moves back towards Sans, who’s now finished with his bowl and trying to move away from the conversation. “What about you, then? Why’re you chickening out if you still wanna date (Y/N)?” They furrow their eyebrows and glare at the monster. “Why are you-“

“That’s enough, honey.” You stand up and face down at them. “This isn’t his fau-“

“So then, it’s yours?” Their voice breaks as they're the one to rise next; their hands thump over the table and their frown quivers as they attempt not to show any weakness. “He… He flirted with you, so that means he’s also responsible for it!”

“I said that’s enough, Frisk (L/N),” you snap, crossing your arms. “I’m okay with talking about this with you, but not during dinner. And even less when we have a guest over.” You plan to pick up the dishes, though the skeleton beats you to it, excusing himself off to the kitchen. “I’m not dating him, and that's final. That only happened ‘cause we kind of like each other. But I refuse to date anyone until you’re all grown up.”

“You’ll be old by then,” they whine, flailing their arms. “Grandparents can’t date!”

“Yes, they can.” You go along with the ridiculousness of the conversation, too caught up in it to fully assess their words. “And ten more years won’t make me a grandparent! I’m still young.”

Frisk huffs and switches for sign language, saying, “That still doesn’t mean you have to live like this.” They grimace, eyes wetting as they sniffle once. “I like seeing you happy… But right now, this just makes me feel like I'm bothering you.”

Your anger falls with that last sentence; panic replaces it.

In a haste, you try approaching their side, though they run off to their room just as you’re ready to bring them in for a hug. Their steps are quick and the door shuts with a subtle bang, their composure still showing through. You stay in place as their words replay on your mind over and over, gloom arriving. Dismissing them is an impossible feat; your mind continues to subject your thoughts into negativity, restraining you from acting quickly.

If you’d been doing a poor job at raising them this whole time, then what had been the point of it all?

Needing a distraction, you head to the kitchen and join Sans by the sink, no words spoken between you.

He washes the dishes while you dry and store them away, keeping up a rhythmic pace until only the pot’s left. Your gaze focuses on his arms, jacket’s sleeves lifted all the way up to his elbows, revealing the oddity of who you were growing attracted to. His shirt's a bit loose by the neck, presenting you with his collarbones as you spare a peek under it. You're still adapting to the strangeness of having someone look so similar to a human skeleton, yet so different all the same. He could breathe, laugh, move, talk... and even kiss based on first-hand experience. His skull wasn't entirely solid, allowing him to blink, eat, and drink -- besides from what you were thinking of whenever you stared at his face and down at his teeth. You tell yourself it’s wrong to be befriending him, and even worse finding any attraction in him. You’re not sure how to interpret his words from earlier ago, and just what it meant to see him break down like he had.

He’d revealed he disliked who he used to be, but did he remember having said it?

From your experience, moments like those were hard to keep clear.

“Do you… remember what you said to me, Sans?”

His hands stop what they’re doing, one grabbing the knob -- ready to open the faucet -- and the other holding the pot, now coated in suds. He looks up at you, saying, “I cried, didn’t I? Don’t really remember word-for-word, but I know I meant what I said.”

You take a breather before responding with, “Even the part about hating who you used to be?”

Sans turns the knob, letting water pour down. “Yeah.” He nods, heaving out a sigh. “The more I look back and reflect on who I used to be, the more I understand why you don’t trust me.” The pot’s close to overflowing, though he doesn’t notice. You step in and place your hand over his, closing the faucet. Unaddressed tension remains as you stare down at his hand, yet you refuse to let it show, repelled by the idea of taking advantage of his vulnerability. You don’t want to engage in anything like your stay at the hotel again until you sorted out your mind and its jumble of thoughts, nor do you wish to romanticize his self-hatred by fulfilling your wants. “...I, uh, I get it now. And I promise I’ll stop flirtin' now that I know it.”

The monster pulls his hand away and takes the pot with both, emptying the soapy water down the drain. He does it little by little, preventing a flood in the sink. “Did Jerry say something about this?” you ask, taking the pot when he gives it to you. You hang the current towel and take a dryer, cleaner one from the rack. Then, you continue, finishing with the job. “He looked at you weird.”

He chuckles and meets with your eyes. “Maybe ‘cause I was all over you for a second there?”

You glare at him, lips doing the opposite by tugging into a grin, one you try to fight back. “Cut the sarcasm.” You jab his waist, smile growing. “You know what I mean."

“Let him think what he wants to think. I knew you before I knew him, and you guys haven’t been together for years. You’re your own person, and so’s him. If he doesn’t want to keep being friends, then that’s fine with me.”

You glance over to the time on the wall clock, seeing it’s already seven. With the frequent rain, the monster was forced to store his motorcycle away while it cleared out some more, and -- to make up for it -- his brother was now the one to either lend him his car, or take him where he needed to be. In short, letting him go back home would mean calling Papyrus two hours right before his sleep schedule. Either that, or it was sending Sans all alone off to the nearest bus stop.

You settle on neither, saying, "Want to stay over? It's late, and I've got a guest bedroom you can use."

He snickers and replies with, "Worried 'bout me?" When he notices, his grin falls, and he quickly makes up for it by adding, "Sorry. Doing that's pretty much a reflex now."

You smile and swat his shoulder, keeping your hand there. "...I don't really mind you flirting that way. I like it better than when you're straight-up obvious about it."

"Like the Mx. Serif thing?"

"Exactly." You shift on your feet, remembering one of his older comments. "That, and the ones you used to make about my... appearance."

"So you want me to be less invasive," he says, nodding. "Got it." He tries not to look down, a slight tense present in his grin. "I apologize if I ever made ya uncomfortable. I'm surprised you didn't just whack me over the head back then. Feels like I deserved it sometimes."

"Violence is not the answer." You pause, face regaining seriousness. "...Unless you cross borders you shouldn't be crossing."

"Kinda like what happened on the couch today?"

"No." You feel your throat ache the longer you talk with him, still too awkward to relax around him. "...I wanted it back then."

Sans washes his hands and gives you space to do the same. Then, he brings his sleeves down and waits until you're done washing up to accompany you to the living room. "Touch-starved?" he jokes, though you're far from taking it that way.

Seven years.

Not that you were completely, utterly desperate for a relationship, but good company was still good company. You could still use the warmth of someone else, even if it was purely platonic or familiar -- like a tight hug, or just someone else to have around the house. Wanting to depend less on Jerry's support and more on your own funds, you proposed to yourself working extra hours for as long as it was necessary. The rest of your day was either used up in chores or in spending more time with Frisk. It's only now that the monsters help you out with your child and their growth that you have additional time to do stuff like this.

"...Yes," you reply, looking away. "But that can wait."

You excuse yourself and head over to the fridge, needing some water to cure the sudden soreness to your throat; that, and you didn't really want to keep tangling yourself up in that mess.

When you've just about drank more than half a gallon, you stop and take in a deep breath, bringing yourself back to calm.

Regardless of what Frisk and Sans himself had said about living for yourself every so often, you had your set of goals already planned out. Speed-running through a relationship wasn't one, and even less considering the subject's past. You needed to know him and his intentions better before throwing yourself into it -- more than usual.

Two years of pointless arguments between you and Jerry had been enough to last you a lifetime; one of them was even more than pointless, considering you divorced by your first year. You never understood the point of submitting a child to the sight of continuous arguments if you could just find a way to stop becoming involved in what was causing that. You didn't want Frisk to feel like the root of all your problems, nor did you wish to make them feel as if they had to redeem themselves for something that wasn't even their fault to begin with. It was difficult to comprehend the thought-process behind calling out how many finances were spent on them, unless they were being a spoiled brat about it. Guilting them over the good things they had and belittling their troubles through constant comparison wasn't what you wanted, either.

But did it all have to be done by you limiting your own life and enjoyments?

Sans's advice and Frisk's words get to you, these you try to brush off for the moment being.

Fixing your situation with the monsters was more important than that.

"Ren?" a familiar voice calls out, stopping your speeding train of thought. "Is Sans staying over tonight?"

Your body freezes up, face doing the opposite.

Out of all the people you could’ve chosen to be attracted to, it had to be a person whose existence you were barely aware of until a few months ago, who you would've sworn was a contradiction to science as you knew it, and whose flirting techniques were about as low quality as a school lunch's ‘pizza’ Friday. “Yes,” you say, drinking another glass. You’ve already drank more than enough, but stress makes you want more. “It would be rude to send him home with how late it is.”

“You just want him to stay longer, don’t you?”

“That’s none of your concern, dear.”

You serve them a glass of milk, kiss their cheek, and shoo them off to bed, slumping against the fridge when they’re gone. The sound of the television being turned on follows when their footsteps grow faint, and you can hear them exchange a few words with the skeleton, though none of these you can get to understand clearly, standing so far away. “That’s their favourite movie!” is the only sentence you can decipher from them, words exclaimed. “Have fun!” They run off, footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Finally left with Sans again, you return to the living room to see him resting on the same side you’d been pinned to on the couch. You try not to remember, yet your mind proves to be cruel as it reminds you over the subtle warmth of his hands, the scent of your soap on him, and him being so close to take initiative by being the one to almost kiss you on the lips. You’d been the one to do that the first time you kissed him on the cheek back at Mettaton's hotel, though you tell yourself it was nothing special. It was mostly the heat of the moment that had caused you both to take it easy, after all. Today was an entirely different story. Compared to your approach, his was a much more complex and slow building one, waiting for you to better process his intentions and reciprocate his actions with far more sincerity compared to your stay at the hotel.

In short, you wanted to kiss him, but for real this time.

“You doin' okay?” Sans asks, seeing you arrive; he scoots further away, a simple gesture for you to sit down and join him.

“I’m... I'm okay,” you reply, nodding. “But are you really gonna watch that?” You point with your eyes at the television, your favourite movie still playing. “It’s a little lame.”

“Don’t lie.” He grins and hangs an arm behind the couch again when you settle next to him. “I’m pretty sure the kid said it’s your favourite.”

“Out of that particular genre, yes.” You stare at the screen, displaying a scene not too fitting for your situation, yet not completely out of touch either. It gives space for you to talk with him, no awkward romance scenes happening at the moment, and no loud, action-packed scenarios occurring either. Without a word, you move closer to him, letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as he brings you nearer, face resting against his chest. “Have you watched it before?”

“Today’s my first,” he says, hand lowering to your waist. He does nothing else, giving space for you to cozy up next to him the way you best deemed fit. “Feelin’ better now? You can stay for s’long as ya need.”

Aware the monster's referencing your no short of embarrassing confession from before, you shift to a straighter position, meet his irises, and glare up at him. Rather than throwing a remark back at the skeleton, you figure it’s now best to kill him with kindness. You take his cheekbone, smile, and stroke his face, smiling to better accomplish your payback.

When he looks at you -- far too earnest and warm for your liking -- you flinch and have a sudden, unconscious change of plans.

“You’re enough, you know that?” you comment, words practically slipping from your mouth. “Maybe I don’t fully understand what happened at the Underground, but... But I'd say you’ve shown you care enough to improve things you don’t like about yourself. And you've also been pretty blunt and honest with me so far, so there’s that, too.” You kiss his cheekbone, ending on a note far more wholehearted than you originally intended your payback to be. “Try to remember that next time you start criticizing yourself like that again.”

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Hello!

Before getting into some important stuff, this was meant to be yesterday's update, but I didn't have my laptop available at the time, hence the delay! I was able to update on other sites, but here I use the "keep reading" feature, which can only be accessed through a computer. (As far as my knowledge of that goes, of course -- I'm still learning how to use Tumblr!)

Now, moving to the important stuff:

A few changes will be going underway soon, such as adding the chapter navigation at the bottom of each update from the Prologue to Chapter Ten. As I mentioned in a previous author note about how late I realized I was missing something necessary for clicking on the next chapter more easily: I'm a dumbass, lol.

Also, I've made the decision of creating separate fanfics for the 4 other characters tagged in this story, along with a poll to decide which one I should work with first (as it was shown at the end of Chapter Fifteen, we've finally reached the exposition part of this fanfic, meaning other relationships will be introduced soon)! The reason why is not only to avoid coming off as misleading for those who're looking for a fanfic of that specific character only, but because rewriting this story led to it becoming much more slow burning, thus delaying the relationship development with plenty of characters. As a result, I'll modify the tags to all 16 chapters that've been published so far!

Hopefully, all those changes will be finished by next Friday. :-)

As always, take care and stay safe!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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morganaseren · 3 years

Text

Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU

So because there seemed to be interest in the idea, I decided to expand on the second prompt on this list of AUs I made for Bethany and my Niamh Cousland.

Since Bethany is a Circle Mage in Niamh’s canon verse, I really wanted to experiment with Bethany in one of her other potential routes We don’t talk about the ones where she died not long after escaping Lothering or down in the Deep Roads. Like, what are you talking about? Lalala~ and see if I could work together a happier ending than what the games canonically gave her.

Like most of the AUs I’ve already written about though, this is just a snippet into the verse, so it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, and the pacing isn’t on par with my main fic. However, there are still 50+ pages for your reading pleasure! Depending on reader interest, I’ll be more than happy to write more about this or other AUs once OtSttCA is completed.

Disclaimer: Any section written in present tense beneath the Read More contains notes or scenes that I’ve yet to expand upon properly.

CliffNotes version of what goes on:

This whole thing takes place sometime after Bethany becomes a Grey Warden and continues on through the years-long breaks between the Acts of DA2. The epilogue will be set sometime after the Trespasser DLC is completed.

Niamh is the Grey Warden who Morrigan chooses to do the Dark Ritual with, and through the obvious use of magic, Kieran is conceived. Because of this, Niamh’s sister Saoirse escapes her otherwise canonical death and gets to be happily married to Leliana.

Because of their mutual respect for one another, and the fact that Niamh went through the trouble of finding Morrigan through the events of the Witch Hunt DLC (she was worried about her friend and their son), she and Morrigan remain in close contact and co-parent Kieran together. Their relationship is often mistaken as a romantic one though.

Bethany eventually falls in love with Niamh over the years, but because she believes the other woman is in a relationship with Morrigan, she keeps her feelings to herself. As such, this is obviously going to be a slow burn romance much like OtSttCA.

Bethany only confesses (albeit by accident) when Niamh nearly dies during a darkspawn ambush when the two woman accidentally find themselves trapped down in the Deep Roads.

There’s a romantic kiss out in the rain along with a semi-NSFW scene later on, which explains why the Read More is in place beyond the fact that this is already super long despite the fact that it’s unfinished...

They both go off in search of the cure to The Calling not long after the Kirkwall Rebellion, and they both eventually get married sometime after the Trespasser DLC with Divine Victoria (spoilers: it’s Leliana) officiating their wedding.

Interested so far? Click below to read more!

“You’re originally from Ferelden, no?” Stroud asked, drawing Bethany’s attention from where she’d been listlessly staring at the cobblestones as they walked away from Amaranthine’s sea port.

The city itself seemed to be thriving with fishmongers and traders of all kinds rattling off their wares to passersby. Save for the workers carrying about lumber and other building materials, one might not have even believed that Amaranthine had suffered its fair share of woes during the onset of the Fifth Blight or the consequent, mysterious darkspawn attack upon its walls nearly a year later. Still, the denizens of the arling were ever a hearty people. For whatever hardship befell them, they continued to persevere.

She supposed she couldn’t bring herself to be too surprised by that.

The Storm Coast had spawned some of Thedas’ most fearsome raiders once upon a time, and they had proven the bane of Orlais in the rebellion that had spanned over half an Age. For the empire’s trespass upon their freedom, they had fought back with a ruthlessness that matched the raging waves of the sea that was as much a home to them as the land. In the face of such an unsympathetic enemy, they depended on one another to see themselves and each other through to another day. Such faith eventually earned them the liberation they had long sought against Orlais.

Bethany could still see evidence of such camaraderie in the way the people greeted one another so whole-heartedly, stopping to make conversation or help with the transportation of wares. It was such interaction that she’d miss in all the time she’d been away.

Kirkwall had lacked such sincere enthusiasm.

Still, in the two years since she’d left it, she was finally back home, but Bethany knew it was yet another decision she hadn’t had a say in. She hadn’t agreed to returning to Ferelden any more than she had agreed to becoming a Grey Warden. Her jaw clenched, remembering how her sister had simply handed her over to them even when faced with the proposition that they’d likely never see one another again.

Was it really so easy for you to leave me behind, Sister? she thought bitterly, and perhaps upon sensing her melancholy, Stroud changed the subject.

“I realize it seems a rather abrupt choice in returning you here, but what I seek is far too dangerous for someone so new to our way of life to accompany me with,” he explained. “I’m meeting with the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan branch so that I might share some information in the event that things go awry. Their group is smaller than the ones seen across Thedas, but no one can deny their efficiency.” Stroud spared a small chuckle at that. “A bit like your sister and her crew, I suppose; I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in such a setting.”

It had been a thoughtful suggestion; Bethany knew that. Still, she couldn’t help but sigh. She had always felt that the individuals whom had made up her little social circle were more Emrys’ friends than they had ever been hers. Her older sister had the type of presence to draw anyone to her with her rakish charm and absolute battle prowess.

…which was the exact opposite of her.

As an apostate, it was far easier to stay out of trouble by being unobtrusive. If she gave the Templars no reason to suspect her, she wouldn’t be taken away from her family and the quiet life she had always known. Yet, for all her trouble—and for all her desperation to abide by the rules of a society that had long hated mages like her—she had found herself alone anyway.

Bethany sighed as she looked down at the blues and silvers of the brigandine and tabard of her outfit that signified her status as a Grey Warden. Even with her staff openly displayed across her back, she supposed she no longer had to fear being turned into the authorities. Save for a few curious glances, no one so much as batted an eye at them.

She wasn’t entirely convinced this new life was better than the one she’d left. She could have dealt with the ever-present uncertainty in Kirkwall and the endless, interpersonal squabbles of their ragtag group than spending the remainder of her years surrounded by strangers and fighting darkspawn.

But the choice wasn’t hers to make.

Very little ever was.

---

“So that’s Velanna. She took over as Archivist for our branch when the Warden-Constable was promoted to her current position by our Commander,” Nathaniel said as he took Bethany and Stroud through a tour of Vigil’s Keep since the fortress’ respective Warden-Commander and Warden-Constable were currently out on business.

Their latest stop was a library filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and even more that lined the walls of the chamber that consisted of three separate levels. It was impressive, and Bethany was half-convinced she could have spent an Age in this room alone and never be able to read the entirety of its collection.

At Nathaniel’s commentary, she spared a cursory glance at the woman writing intently at one of the tables furthest away from them, paying little mind to her audience. As was typical of most elves, Velanna was a slight woman. Her hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was nearly white, but there was a surliness in her pensive expression that gave Bethany pause. It was something that suggested the other woman didn’t welcome the company of others easily, and she seemed to have been proven right by Nathaniel’s words.

“Don’t mind her if she’s a bit standoffish at first. Velanna’s usually that way with everyone until she starts warming up to them,” he assured.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She didn’t really like humans all that much to begin with—hardly a surprise considering how terrible some of them were toward her former clan. Truthfully, I think the only people she really respects are our commanding officers—the Constable mostly though.” He spared a soft chuckle at that. “Granted, the Warden-Commander could lead a damn army from one side of Thedas to the other, but only her sister has the type of negotiation skills that could somehow end up with a High Dragon allied with a sheep of all things.”

“Probably a good thing,” said Varel—the Keep’s seneschal. There was amusement in his dark eyes as he stroked his beard, which had long grown grey with age. “Actually succeeding in getting the Warden-Constable angry is a terrifying sight to behold.”

“Please don’t remind me; I still have nightmares from our first meeting…” Nathaniel muttered with a shudder.

Bethany found that curious, but before she could begin to question him, she saw how he blinked at further movement inside the library. She followed his gaze to see that a dark-haired, dwarven woman had entered through one of the side entrances, carrying two, steaming mugs. One had been set before Velanna, who whispered something quietly, but both of Bethany’s brows rose when she saw how the elf’s cheeks quickly reddened by the kiss that had been pressed to them by her latest visitor.

“Ah. And that’s Sigrun there—another one of those few, honored individuals who Velanna won’t immediately snap at,” Nathaniel remarked humorously.

The tour then continued elsewhere with the party entering the Mess Hall. While neat and tidy, it would have otherwise been unremarkable were it not for the lone dwarf snoring loudly atop one of the tables—an empty cask by his side. Bethany and Stroud shared bemused glances while Varel only cursed next to them, running a weary hand down his face.

“I told you we needed better locks for the cellar if we’re to keep Oghren away from the wine stores,” Nathaniel deadpanned.

Oghren grumbled nonsensically in his sleep before promptly rolling off the table and right onto the floor, loudly overturning more than a few chairs in the process. Despite the fall, he continued to doze away, and his snoring only seemed to grow in volume. They then watched as the poor seneschal wearily hauled the dwarf back to his quarters before he could cause another incident in front of their guests.

“…well, that was Oghren,” Nathaniel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “Quite the interesting fellow, that one. With him, you’ve pretty much met every Warden in the Keep save for—”

He was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hallway.

“I told you that I’m more than capable of walking on my own!” protested a feminine voice, irritation evident within it.

“Says the woman who was nearly side-swiped off a cliff by an ogre,” came the deeper timbre of another woman’s amused reply.

Unlike Nathaniel or herself, the latest arrivals didn’t seem to bear the typical, Fereldan accent or even Stroud’s Orlesian one from what she could tell. Bethany could hear how some of the vowels lilted somewhat as they spoke.

“It didn’t really give me any choice in the matter,” was the dry response. “It was either stand before its charge or risk the family in the wagon being swept over the edge instead.”

“I was hardly questioning your bravery, Sister. The people in that caravan certainly wouldn’t, but perhaps leave the more death-defying stunts to those of us with the armor to handle it, hm? I shudder to think what our brother or Aunt Eithne (writer’s note: pronounced Eth-Nah) would say once they find out about this...”

“Perhaps that you were lazing about while I was doing all the work as per usual.”

“Hey!”

Two women appeared in the doorway of the Mess Hall then, and Bethany was startled to find that one of them rivaled her older sister in both height and size. She was a warrior through and through if the impressive greatsword over her shoulder and her overall physique was any indication. Her mane of hair was the color of pale wheat, the length of which was held in a braid that trailed down half her back, and her eyes were a deep, stormy grey. The woman she was carrying—her sister, according to their conversation—was much slighter in comparison.

Rather than sharing in the warrior’s blonde-haired looks, hers was a stark, raven-black. The loose curls trailed to roughly chin-length with a longer fringe that covered one of her eyes—the color a whisper of smoke than the darker grey her sister had. The woman’s arms were also crossed over her chest as she regarded her sister—deeply-unimpressed—before her features cleared at the sight of their visitors.

“Ah. Stroud. Glad to see you and your companion made it across the Waking Sea safely. We weren’t expecting you both for at least another day, or we’d have sent an escort to meet you at the port.”

“No need for the trouble. The winds were kind during our voyage, Warden-Constable,” he said before tilting his head in concern. “Although it appears we’ve arrived too late to help you both. Has the darkspawn presence been more troubling as of late?”

The warrior whom Bethany deduced to be the Warden-Commander merely snorted. “They’re not as plentiful as they were a year ago thankfully. With Niamh’s and Velanna’s respective magic, our branch here has slowly been sealing any access tunnels we’ve come across, but our enemy may just be as awful as vermin with how they manage to reappear in other areas.”

“The incidents have been isolated so far as we can tell, but they’re capable of disrupting travel all the same. On that note…” The Constable trailed off as she turned her gaze toward the Warden who had been showing them about the Keep. “Nathaniel, we have guests from the caravan mentioned earlier. As it’s getting rather late, Saoirse and I decided it was best not to press our luck by letting them travel so soon after the darkspawn attack. Could you and Varel direct them to the guest quarters? We’ll arrange an escort for them to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.”

He pressed a fist over his heart respectfully as he bowed his head. “Of course.”

“Wonderful. Now—”

“Now we get you back to your quarters so that we can tend to your injuries,” her sister interrupted, cheerily grinning when it led to the other woman scowling outright, as if she had been reminded of her current position.

“And I’m more than capable of walking there on my own. Put me down!”

“And risk you further injuring yourself? What type of sister would I be if I were to allow that to happen? Now then!” The Commander directed a smile Bethany’s way, and she jerked in place at the sudden attention. “You’re the latest to join our Order, aren’t you? Stroud mentioned you were a mage. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic, do you?”

“Oh.” Bethany blinked. “Um, well, yes. I have some experience with it.” She had tended to her sister’s and their friends’ injuries often enough back in Kirkwall.

“Excellent. Would you mind tending to Niamh here as best as you can while I go find Velanna? I’m pretty sure my sister fractured a few ribs in that fight earlier.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry if she gives you any trouble; she has a history of being a terrible patient,” she added, earning a pained grunt for her troubles when the woman in question elbowed her sharply in the chest.

---

And before Bethany knew it, she found herself alone with the Warden-Constable in her quarters.

She was trying not to blush at the sight of the woman reclined against the propped pillows at the headboard of the bed. Modesty didn’t seem to be an issue for the other mage. Without another word, she had undressed—with a few occasional winces here and there as the movement pulled at her injuries—and was now bare from the waist up, save for the bindings around her breasts.

Bethany couldn’t help her own wince when she saw the livid bruising that covered the right side of the woman’s torso. It almost looked like the trunk of a tree had been slammed against it if the abrasions and bits of bark embedded into the cuts were any indication.

And she kept insisting to try and walk on her own with an injury like this? she thought in absolute disbelief before delicately pressing the tips of her fingers against the bruise. Despite being as gentle as possible, it still drew a sharp hiss from the Warden-Constable, and Bethany jerked her head up to see the other woman’s clearly pained visage.

“Sorry!”

“No, it needs to be done. Keep going,” she insisted even as pale eyes closed themselves to focus on breathing in and out evenly—albeit with some difficulty.

With permission given, Bethany laid her hand out over the woman’s side, drawing her magic out with a silvery-blue light. From there, she began sounding out the extent of the Warden-Constable’s injuries by feeling where it burned hottest beneath her palm—an indication of how bad the damage was. There was always a tickling sensation that spread out to her fingertips whenever she gently coaxed broken bones back into place. It was akin to puzzle pieces slowly sliding back together before she could encourage them to heal, and she waited for the pulsing waves around them to fade into a dull echo before focusing on the next fractured bone.

As for the bruised muscles surrounding them, they were far easier to deal with. Bethany poured magic beneath the skin in gradual increments—droplets of rain spilling into a cup one by one—until she felt the burning heat simmer down to a more bearable ache. She continued the process, slowly sliding her hand along the woman’s side until the patchwork of blues and blacks which had covered its expanse faded into a yellowish tinge and the superficial cuts had closed themselves. Bethany pulled away then with a satisfied smile.

“What song was that?”

Bethany blinked, turning her gaze up to see silvery eyes staring at her curiously. “Hm?”

“You were humming something while you were healing me.”

“Oh.” She felt heat gathering along her cheeks at the revelation. “It’s an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When my father first taught me healing magic, I used to hold my breath while I was performing the spell, but as you can imagine, it’s not a very sound idea unless you want both an unconscious healer and patient.” Embarrassed laughter spilled out of her then as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “After a time, I learned that humming a few songs was useful in reminding me to breathe.”

“I see.” The Warden-Constable smiled, looking a great deal more relaxed as she reclined further against the headboard. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

The Warden-Commander walked in then with Velanna in tow, and the warrior seemed surprised to see her sister still in bed. “Did you actually manage to get her to stay there the entire time?” she asked incredulously.

Bethany blinked in confusion at that since her patient had otherwise been well-behaved. As it was, she could only nod tentatively, causing the other woman to grin openly.

“Hah! Well done! I didn’t expect Stroud to send me someone who could cow her into submission.”

The Warden-Constable’s eyes narrowed then. “It was not my hearing that was damaged in that fight, Saoirse. You would do well to not make such comments before me,” she deadpanned, and despite the threat, it only drew hearty laughter from her sister, who soon drew her attention back to Bethany.

“Stroud said your name was Hawke, right?”

She shifted uncomfortably, having grown too used to her surname being used to refer to Emrys, but she nodded all the same. “I’d prefer just to be called Bethany if that’s alright.”

“Ah. Understandable. Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I both answered ‘yes’ in the same room whenever someone called out for a Warden Cousland.” She smiled. “In any case, welcome to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens, Bethany. We’re glad to have you with us.”

---

After that, Bethany settles into Vigil’s Keep.

She sends letters home every now and then, but they’re usually only addressed to her mother. They’re never really long—just enough to let her know that she’s alive and well. Although Bethany realizes it’s a petty thing, she doesn’t ask about Emrys or send her anything for that matter. She’s still angry and resentful that her older sister managed to escape their adventure down into the Deep Roads unscathed while she got cheated out a future, leaving her to a life of killing darkspawn until the Calling finally takes her into the abyss of death.

Melancholy is ever her constant companion, but eventually, she gets paired with Niamh for missions, who teaches her much about their duties as Wardens over the months, which takes them all around Ferelden. They deal with darkspawn sightings and document areas where they’ve sealed off underground routes into the Deep Roads with earth-based magic, hopefully preventing them from returning so regularly to bother nearby provinces.

As partners, they slowly become closer.

---

"Do you regret it?" Bethany asked one night as they sat by the campfire, watching as Niamh effortlessly flicked a hand to control the size of it just as a strong wind passed beneath the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under. "Being a Grey Warden, I mean?"

Niamh paused, giving the matter some thought. "There are worse things to be, I suppose." She shrugged. "For a time, I hated the idea of being a mage because it took me away from my family. However, my being a Grey Warden was likely the only thing that saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of them when Howe plotted his coup. It likely also saved me from dying at the hands of my colleagues in Kinloch Hold when one of the Senior Enchanters overthrew it with blood magic and his followers.” She looked over at Bethany then. "Truthfully, I enjoy being able to see more of the world than through the cage the Chantry kept me in. I like the experience of being a part of it even in the moments that people dislike most."

Niamh held a hand out past the edge of the overhang, casually catching droplets of rain in her palm. Bethany watched as a slow smile spread across her features at the sound of another crash of thunder, and she couldn’t help how her own heart seemed to quicken upon seeing that serene expression.

"Our lives are more finite than they ever were," Bethany said distractedly, knowing all Wardens had only a few decades at most after their Joining.

"They are," she conceded. "That’s why I intend to make the most of it." Niamh's expression then turned sheepish as she turned back toward her. "I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it?"

"No," she admitted, but as mellow as the other woman was, she was hardly surprised. Niamh had a way of remaining positive despite everything else life seemed to throw at them. Bethany smiled in spite of herself. "It was an honest one though. Thank you."

---

Every day is always an interesting adventure.

If not darkspawn, they deal with brigands out on the road or aid people across the countryside. To Bethany’s surprise, their help is openly requested sometimes when they reach a new town or village. Following the Blight, the utter bravery of the Grey Wardens had earned them Ferelden’s deepest respect. Thus, despite the fact they’re two mages traveling about, their regalia draws easy admiration and conversation alike.

It’s admittedly an odd feeling to have as a mage: to be wanted.

Bethany slowly grows to enjoy it though, especially when she can help with her magic so openly without being reviled for it.

Sometimes the jobs asked of them are simple enough: deal with a band of thieves, rid the area of rabid animals encroaching too close to farmland, helping out with some odds and ends around the village, etc.

Given that Niamh is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, Bethany also ends up learning a lot of survival skills from her during their travels together. She’s endlessly amazed by how the other mage utilizes her magic in combat and with other tasks such as hunting or fishing.

Bethany’s understandably shocked when she realizes that Niamh knows how to shapeshift, often scouting the skies as a raven to search for any nearby danger or roaming the wilderness as a sleek-looking, black wolf to hunt for game. It’s an unexpected revelation, especially since the other woman admitted to having been a part of the Circle most of her life before being recruited as a Warden.

She’s never met another mage so intriguing.

While Anders had been a benevolent healer, offering his skills to those most in need, it was his restless anger—an almost blind righteousness—over the plight of mages that gave Bethany pause.

Merrill was sweet in comparison, of course, and Bethany never minded talking with her even if there were the occasional cultural gaps that led to amusing misunderstandings at times. Still, the other woman held an interest in blood magic that Bethany wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with. After all, she had grown up hearing about the dangers of such magic from the Chantry. Then again, Andrastian religion also denounced who she was as a person as well, which was depressing in its own right…

While Niamh’s aptitude for elemental magic alone is impressive, Bethany is certain the woman’s shapeshifting draws upon some form of ancient or arcane magic—something well outside of the Circle’s teachings. It draws her curiosity endlessly. As such, Bethany asks her about the skill one day. Niamh just smiles, idly toying with the wooden ring that sits on a cord of black leather around her neck, revealing that a former companion taught it to her.

And that’s how Bethany learns about Morrigan.

---

“What?” Bethany exclaimed when Saoirse revealed how she was able to survive the slaying of the Archdemon. “You’re telling me that she and Niamh were able to…” She trailed off, trying to fight the blush burning across her face as her mind began imagining the possibilities of how such a conception was possible.

“You know, I thought to ask Niamh the technicalities of it once, but given she’s my baby sister—and obviously lacks the essential, uh, tool for the matter—I just decided it was best not to pry,” Saoirse answered dryly. She idly waved her hand about. “I don’t care to learn about her intimate life any more than she cares to know about mine,” she added before the corner of her mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “But for all intents and purposes, Kieran is my nephew, and Morrigan’s very much family now despite her protests to the contrary.”

“And he has the soul of an Old God?” she asked quietly as she turned to look at Kieran and the two women who were his parents.

Oghren had heard of their latest visitors and was—

Bethany squinted in confusion.

He was doing some type of weird jig in front of the baby, who was currently in Morrigan’s arms. Unfortunately, the erratic, uncoordinated nature of it did nothing to amuse him or his mother. Seemingly uncomfortable by the sight, Kieran gave an unhappy whine before reaching out toward Niamh, little fingers grasping repeatedly in her direction. Morrigan transferred him easily into the other woman’s arms when it was clear she wouldn’t mind holding him, allowing her to dryly berate the dwarf while Niamh comforted their son.

“So Morrigan says, yes,” the warrior answered with a shrug. “I originally turned down her ritual because I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting an innocent life to such a fate, but I can’t be mad at the result. I still have Leliana because of it, and I can see how much Niamh adores both Kieran and Morrigan.” Her smile softened. “She has a piece of the happiness that I always wanted for her—something Niamh felt she could never find in this world, terrible as it is for mages at times.”

Bethany couldn’t help but agree at the latter sentiment.

Looking at the three of them, they certainly did seem like a happy family. Still, Bethany couldn’t help but feel some small pang of envy. While she had discovered that Niamh could draw just about anyone into easy conversation with her, she was rather private about her personal life. It wasn’t until recently that Bethany discovered she was even in a relationship—let alone one involving another woman. She had no issue with the idea or with Morrigan for that matter. The other mage was well-matched with Niamh on the basis of intrigue alone, but…

Bethany bit her lip.

After all those long months together with Niamh, she couldn’t help but feel—

Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue when she realized sharp, golden eyes were staring at her over Niamh’s head—as if somehow reading her thoughts. Morrigan was tall for a woman of Fereldan origin, but not nearly as much as Saoirse. With her dark hair and pale skin, she was as bewitching as she was powerful—her magical aura a fount of seemingly endless, wild energy. Bethany almost felt like prey beneath the other woman’s gaze, and she averted her own nervously.

Thankfully, Morrigan made no comment about it, but Bethany did wince when she heard her suggest turning into bed early to Niamh. She and Kieran had arrived relatively late in the day after all, so they were no doubt tired from their travels. Niamh gave no objections, and they soon headed off to the woman’s personal quarters.

Bethany sighed soundlessly.

She was no stranger to infatuation. Her attraction to Leliana back in Lothering was a testament to that fact. Granted, it was also somehow deeply ironic that her commanding officer was now married to the same lay sister who had since gone on to become the Left Hand of Divine Justinia.

Sometimes she couldn’t help but think the Maker enjoyed toying with her in subtle, annoying ways. In any case, like with any other infatuation, she would just have to wait for the one she had on Niamh to run its course.

It couldn’t last forever after all.

---

Spoilers: it does.

---

During one of her occasional visits, Morrigan left Kieran temporarily in the care of Niamh to follow up on a magical lead involving some of her arcane research. As they weren’t needed outside of Vigil’s Keep for anything, Bethany also got to watch over him as well, and as she did, she brought up a question that she had long been curious over.

"You said you started the ritual with Morrigan when you were already a Warden, weren't you? I thought Wardens became barren after the Joining though?"

"Hm. That's the assumption, yes," Niamh said as she idly waved a stuffed griffon over Kieran, delighting the baby instantly as they laid on the floor together. "I’d been a Warden for a little over a year at that point. Perhaps it was still soon enough that infertility hadn’t affected me yet, or the spell did something to compensate for it."

Bethany just nodded as she looked over at the two of them. "I see bits of you in him."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she admitted easily enough. "There's his sweet nature, the way he seems far too clever for his own good at times, and how his eyes light up whenever he smiles or laughs."

Niamh chuckled, flattered over the assessment. "Morrigan and I are always arguing about it. I see more of her than me in him, but then she retorts that he’s retained my love of sweets and just about every known creature in existence." Her smile widened when tiny, grasping hands finally succeeded in pulling down the stuffed griffon in her hands, and Kieran wasted little time in snuggling the toy to his chest with a pleased hum.

"Do you regret not being able to see him whenever you wish?"

"Sometimes," Niamh answered, "but Morrigan’s mother…" She trailed off with a frown even as she ran a hand affectionately through her son’s hair. "She’s powerful, and she’s hurt her before. I can understand her caution. I’m willing to go years at a time without seeing them if it means they’re safe."

---

Morrigan eventually returns, and she takes Kieran with her to hide and do magical stuff as Empress Celene’s Arcane Advisor in Orlais as per canon.

Several months pass.

Although Niamh had professed to understanding the need for her little family’s relocation, the distance means that visits from them are now few and far in between. Bethany can see how much the other woman misses them and how she worries about their safety. She often catches Niamh distractedly playing with the ring on her necklace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

As if anticipating that, Morrigan does send letters to Niamh every now and then, and Niamh’s entire expression lights up every time she receives them, learning how the other woman and Kieran are fairing in Orlais along with how their son continues to grow by leaps and bounds.

She cannot fault the happiness Niamh has found with Morrigan, but it also serves as a constant reminder of what life will never offer to Bethany.

Eventually, it gets to a point where Bethany grows resentful of their relationship because her own feelings for Niamh are just so strong by then. It causes her to lash out at Niamh one night in camp, angry with how calm and positive she always is despite knowing they all have a death sentence over their heads.

---

"What world do you live in that you see it through such an idyllic lens?! You can wax poetic about this life all you like! I never asked for this! I never asked for the darkspawn to steal what little I had from life only to be made the gatekeeper against the very things I despise most in this world!"

And Niamh was quiet for the longest time, having stopped mid-sentence over Bethany's sudden tirade. As the silence continued to drift over their camp, so too does a veil of sudden cold air, and Bethany realized far too late that she’d crossed a line with the other woman.

"No one does, really," Niamh admitted at last, the warmth gone from her voice. "Save for Saoirse and my brother, I lost most of my family, but the terrible thing was that it wasn’t even darkspawn that killed them or even the Blight. It was just one man’s petty greed for what he felt was owed to him. He pretended to be my family’s ally for decades, and under the cover of night, he used his men to slaughter nearly the entirety of my bloodline. My parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew… He was only eight when it happened, you see. Oren wanted to a warrior like my siblings. He was trying to defend his mother with one of those wooden swords young boys tend to play with, but against the likes of Howe’s men...” She clenched her jaw. “They gutted him just like everyone else."

Another pause stifled the air between them even as Bethany stared at Niamh, horrified.

"Darkspawn are terrible, yes, but they’re not always as terrible as people," Niamh said, eyes narrowing as she looked into the fire. "We can be so far worse. If I'm at all patient, it's because I try to be kind in a world that offers so little of it. I want to believe it can be better than it was before. I want this to be a better place for our people, but I also want to ensure that tragedies like that never happen again. That the people caught in the middle—victims of simple circumstance—don’t have so suffer. If it means I must be a Grey Warden in addition to a mage, then I accept it. To do otherwise damns them as much as me."

With that, Niamh then gracefully rose to her feet and headed back to her own tent, leaving Bethany alone at the campfire.

The rest of their journey back to Vigil’s Keep passed without much conversation between them despite Bethany’s attempts. Niamh only said enough to give a suitable answer, but she never offered anything more beyond it. A vault door had seemed to close behind the cool grey of the eyes that had long enraptured her, offering little warmth. It was clear Bethany was no longer privy to the other woman’s innermost thoughts and feelings

Niamh wasn’t petty, however.

She still hunted when necessary so they didn’t starve, and as was long part of their agreement together, Bethany continued to cook whatever game she caught. Other than that, however, Niamh offered no friendly greetings in the morning when they woke or any words that allowed her to wander off peacefully into the Fade as she slept.

Bethany didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them.

---

When they finally return to Vigil's Keep, Saoirse is confused by how quiet and despondent her sister seems to be. Given how amiable Niamh normally is, she has a right to be concerned.

She pulls Bethany aside one night to ask what happened since they normally get along so well, but Bethany and Niamh haven't even spoken a word to one another since their return.

Bethany ruefully explains the situation, but she doesn't reveal the actual reason why she lashed out to begin with. As such, Saoirse just assumes it was just the usual stress of being a Grey Warden.

---

"Ah. It happens to the best of us, really. Here." Saoirse handed Bethany a tin box. Something Orlesian, according to the script on it. "Leliana’s currently away on business in Val Royeaux, but she sends care packages out to me whenever she can. This one's for Niamh though. It's tea," she explained with a laugh. "She loves this stuff more than anyone else I know."

Bethany still felt badly over the situation however.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Oh, Niamh’s too well-mannered to outright ignore someone,” Saoirse insisted with a brief snort. “If anything, she becomes more… Well. ‘Distantly-polite’ as my wife would describe it. Besides, I have it on good authority that she never turns down a good cup of tea.” A lazy, conspiratorial grin played on her lips then. “Especially if there’s a spoonful or two of honey in it.”

That eventually culminated in Bethany making tea for Niamh that evening, who had been locked away in her office as of late. Bethany was still nervous despite receiving permission to enter the room, allowing her to face the woman who she hadn’t seen in nearly a fortnight. Concern grew within her when she saw the shadows beneath Niamh’s eyes—a familiar indication that she had been working far too hard. She watched as Niamh struggled to blink the exhaustion from her eyes as she regarded her, but she otherwise said nothing, simply waiting to hear what Bethany required of her.

“I’m sorry," Bethany said at last, contrition clear in her voice. "This isn’t the life I would have wanted for myself, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you when you were merely trying to help.” She held out the still-steaming mug of tea in her hands—the very thing Saoirse had convinced her would make for a suitable peace offering. “Here,” she offered with a tentative smile. “If you’re going to be working through the night again, you should at least drink something.”

For a time, Bethany believed the other woman was just going to remain silent. It would have been well-deserved given how terribly she behaved the other week, but then Niamh reached out to gently take the mug from her.

"Thank you," she said at last, the ice slowly melting behind those wintry eyes, and as they did, Bethany could feel the vice around her heart gradually unhinge itself in relief.

---

Things pretty much go back to normal between them.

Niamh and Bethany are back on the road again, especially after several reports of wandering darkspawn near the outskirts of a town.

As expected, however, Bethany's longing toward Niamh is still there—constant as an evening star. Even with the taint of death coursing through them, Niamh’s aura emanates with so much life—like a forest in winter, cool and refreshing with the scent of pine buried beneath its depths, waiting to burst into spring’s lively greenery with just the barest spark of magic.

It fascinates her.

She often wonders if such single-minded focus is a side effect of the Joining other than the enhanced physical strength and the ability to sense darkspawn. She feels a hunger that is never sated, a thirst that is never parched, and also…

Amber eyes wander over to where Niamh is disrobing to bathe in the nearby river, and she catches sight of the elegant play of muscles along her back before she studiously turns her gaze away. She feels the way her face burns even as she feels something else stir in her veins.

---

While still traveling, they get attacked by some hapless bandits, and while the two women aren't hurt, they manage to lose one of their tents to a stray grenade.

They end up sleeping in the remaining tent together, but it’s small, and they huddle together inside it for warmth against the pouring rain outside.

Bethany is surprised when she unexpectedly wakes up in Niamh’s arms—one is around her waist, and the other is curled behind her shoulders—which pull her closer in sleep. Sometimes she’s amazed at just how warm the other woman is, and although she knows she should pull away to avoid any awkward conversations in the morning, she can’t bring herself to do so. This is probably as close as she’ll ever get to the intimacy she desires with Niamh, and while the moment won’t last forever, it’ll be one more memory she can cherish—something no one else can ever steal from her.

Idly, Bethany listens to the rain outside—now a gentle pattering instead of the rage of a growing storm—falling against the material of the tent, and the sound is so rhythmic that she begins to doze off again.

---

Sometime after that, they receive a letter from Stroud, who requests their assistance with a matter out in the Free Marches. Saoirse stays behind to oversee things at Vigil’s Keep, which leaves Niamh and Bethany to travel across the Waking Sea with Nathaniel as additional support.

They arrive in Kirkwall several days before the qunari invasion begins in full, but not long after they do, Nathaniel’s reconnaissance around the city reveals something terrible:

Bethany’s mother was murdered.

Bethany is understandably upset, but Niamh and Nathaniel do their best to comfort her. They end up holding a small wake in honor of Leandra.

By the time they manage to rendezvous with Stroud, the qunari invasion has already begun, and they’re caught in the middle of it, leading to the Wardens running into Emrys Hawke and her companions.

Emrys obviously wants to talk to her little sister, but Bethany is resistant to the idea since her emotions are still riding high with the news of their mother’s death and the ever-present resentment regarding how she was made into a Warden without her say so on the matter.

Niamh recognizes Bethany’s tension and politely tells Emrys to leave the matter be for the time being. There is little point in having a conversation if one half of the party isn’t ready to have it after all.

Running on adrenaline, the warrior objects and tries to push her out of the way, but Bethany retaliates immediately on Niamh’s behalf. She presses her hand against her sister's chestplate and essentially shoves her back several steps, momentarily forgetting her Warden strength. Both Hawkes seem surprised by the ease in which she can do that.

---

“Bethany?” Emrys uttered in confusion, especially as her sister outright glared at her.

"You do not accost Warden-Constable Cousland that way!"

“Wait… ‘Cousland?’” Emrys looked over to the woman in question, taking in the obvious staff situated across her back. A wolf’s head ornament adorned the top of the weapon in exquisitely-sculpted silverite, and her eyes slowly widened in realization, remembering tales of the mage who could bend the very heavens to her whims. “Wait, you’re the Storm Wolf of Ferelden? Sister to the Hero of Ferelden?”

The woman merely gave a long-suffering sigh in response. “I suppose I was being too optimistic in assuming Leliana’s tales would’ve lost their weight this far past Ferelden’s borders…”

---

Despite the chaos ravaging itself across Kirkwall, the Wardens can’t stay to help. As such, they’re not there to see the end of the invasion. It isn’t until Bethany returns to Ferelden with the others that she receives a letter from Varric, saying that Emrys nearly died in her duel against the Arishok.

While Varric takes the time to mention that Emrys is recovering, and that her bravery led to her becoming Kirkwall’s Champion, the idea that Bethany had nearly lost the very last member of her family is so shocking that she's left inconsolable one night.

---

"I was such an absolute wretch to her before we left, and she nearly died afterward!” she wept when Niamh came to check on her in her room. “She’ll never forgive me!"

The other woman’s eyes are sympathetic as she held her in her arms. "Don’t be so sure."

"How can you say that?" Bethany demanded as she looked up at her, eyes red and swollen with grief.

"I’ve seen the way you talk about her, Bethany. The memories stir up more than just hurt within you,” she explained. “They light your eyes up with joy in remembrance of them. I’m sure she misses you and wishes things had gone differently. She wouldn’t have bothered sending all these letters to you otherwise over the years.

"My siblings did the same when I was still in Kinloch Hold, where I often wondered if my family had forgotten all about me. There were times I feared my being a mage would have meant their love for me would have gone away, but it didn’t. I received letters from them all the time—sometimes over the most asinine things like Saoirse’s warhound tossing bits of her armor into the pig pen." Niamh rolled her eyes, but Bethany could see the fondness in her gaze before they refocused on her.

"Your sister has asked for nothing in return even in the times where you never sent word back. I won’t tell you how to resolve this. You were right in saying that no one truly asks for this life, but I believe she only had the best of intentions when she entrusted your safety to Stroud. Trust in that if nothing else, and if you still find the matter wanting, tell her so." Something sad and brittle lingered on the smile she shared with her. "The what-ifs hurt more than the reality of things at times. No one deserves that."

---

Niamh helps to cheer Bethany up over the course of several weeks.

They’re off in a nearby town, investigating more sightings of darkspawn, and Niamh goes downstairs to pay the innkeeper for breakfast while Bethany packs up some of her belongings to continue their journey. When she reaches for her staff, she blinks, startled to find an ice flower blossoming on the end of it. She stares in surprise at the door the other woman had left through because there’s no way someone else could have done this.

It's almost like something out of a scene from one of those romantic tales Leliana used to tell her back in Lothering. She had thought them nonsense at first—that surely no one actually did such sweet things in real life—but now…

Bethany gently brushes her fingers over the beautifully-conjured petals and leaves, feeling the cool aura radiating from them.

Now she’s not so sure.

---

During their travels, they’re ambushed by darkspawn, and in the middle of the fighting, the ground manages to crumble beneath both women’s feet. The fall is long and painful as they slide down an old mine shaft, and soon they find themselves down in the Deep Roads. Unfortunately, it's an area they haven't charted yet, so they have no idea where they even are.

They have rations from the last time Niamh hunted and smoked some game, but they know it won't last forever. They can feel the press of darkspawn everywhere against their senses, and it's difficult to get any real bearing down in the tunnels because of it. The ambushes are sporadic throughout the days as they try to find their way back to the surface. They have taken to sleeping in brief shifts so they’re not caught unaware.

One fight lags on long enough that they have to retreat, but their enemies lead them right into the lair of a broodmother.

Bethany has never seen something so hideous in all her life, but when she turns briefly to Niamh, she’s disquieted to find the other woman looks more terrified than she's ever seen her. She barely has time to think over that before the darkspawn attack them again, but now they have the broodmother and her various tentacles to dodge as well.

The fight rages on for quite awhile, long enough that Bethany voices the thought they might never see Vigil's Keep again.

---

“No.”

"Niamh—"

"No!" she repeated firmly, glaring as she lashed out with an arm, incinerating an advancing line of darkspawn to their right. "I am getting you out of here! I swear it!"

You.

Not us.

What are you planning, Niamh? Bethany couldn't help but think worriedly.

Then she felt the sudden rush of magic—causing Bethany to almost stumble in place at the overwhelming sensation—as Niamh’s aura manifested itself more tangibly in an array of colors. Blinding arcs of lightning and lines of roaring flames raced across her form, and Bethany could see her own breath forming in rapid, exhausted puffs as the temperature inside the entire cavern seemed to drop even as the stone walls rattled ominously from the breadth of absolute magic being conjured.

The power of it was soon unleashed as Niamh slammed her staff end into the ground, allowing countless rays of energy to simply explode from her body. They radiated out like spectral hands of vengeance, and the cries of the darkspawn were nearly drowned out entirely as utter destruction rained down upon them. Each blast hit like deafening peals of thunder, and the echoes of them spanned for several long heartbeats, leaving Bethany’s ears ringing even after everything eventually fell silent.

As the dust and debris finally settled from the turbulent winds, she could see the other mage leaning heavily upon her staff, utterly exhausted. Each breath she took seemed to be a laborious effort, but Bethany watched as those eyes remained keenly alert to their surroundings, waiting to see if any of the darkspawn she had laid waste to would try and attack them again. They both tensed upon hearing the low, wailing groan of pain, and they looked to the far side of the cavern to see the broodmother still alive—albeit barely.

While already repulsive, it was now a macabre mass of flesh, bleeding sluggishly from the wounds inflicted by Niamh’s attack. Bloated skin bore severe burn marks, and entire chunks of flesh were missing. One of the broodmother’s arms had been severed completely, but the heat from one of the elemental attacks had unintentionally cauterized the fat stump even if Bethany grimaced upon seeing the pink-tinged bone that still protruded from it. The broodmother’s entire form seemed to slump back with what they assumed was her final breath, but then the sudden sound of earth breaking behind them alerted them far too late to a final danger.

Bethany turned her head just in time to see a lashing tentacle sprout from the ground, and her mind barely registered the sight of it before she heard the frantic call of her name along with warm hands pressing against her side.

"Bethany!"

As if time had slowed itself, she watched in horror as Niamh pushed her out of the tentacle’s swooping path, but in doing so, the other woman took the brunt of the attack entirely. Niamh was sent flying into one of the naturally-formed pillars of the cavern, impacting it hard enough that it broke at its center, raining rubble down upon the mage resting eerily still at its base until she was buried beneath it.

Bethany’s eyes remained fixed on the sight even as she shakily rose to her hands and knees. An overwhelming sense of disbelief overtook when her longtime partner didn't emerge at all out of the stone pile. In fact, there's a terrifying lack of anything in that direction.

Nothing of the taint in Niamh's blood.

No sound.

No magic.

Just... nothing.

Distantly, she could hear the half-dying moans of the broodmother somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. Although Bethany was all too aware of how dangerous her current situation still was, all she could feel was a staggering rush of absolute rage building inside her. It seemed to grow with every beat of her heart until she could hear it pounding inside her ears—a drumming sound of accusation over the fact that she had been powerless to help someone dear to her yet again.

It was her anger that gave birth to the sudden burst of power—whether a second wind or simply a dying gasp, she didn’t immediately know—but Bethany whirled to face the grotesque beast, magic already gathering within her hands. With an infuriated cry, she pressed her palms out, and she felt the immense displacement of air around her immediately as she summoned enough force magic to take up almost the entire space of the cavern. The pressure of it proved too much against the broodmother, and Bethany watched impassively as its enormous body was flung toward the far wall with enough violence that it was reduced to a grisly splatter of darkened blood, pulverized bone, and putrid meat.

With its death, Bethany felt the presence of darkspawn waiting beyond the cavern retreat even further, as if afraid of tempting her fury. Safe from any immediate threats, however, she wasted little time in rushing over to where she last saw Niamh. She used her hands and magic to try and dig her out beneath the rubble, but when she found her, fear took hold of her immediately when she realized the other woman wasn’t breathing anymore. Desperately, Bethany tried to use her healing magic in an attempt revive her, but to her utter dismay, the chest beneath her hands remained impossibly still.

“Oh, no…” she breathed. “No. No! You can’t be dead! Niamh, get up!”

But her cry fell on deaf ears.

Despite her best efforts, no matter how much healing she tried to force through the other woman’s veins, Niamh didn’t respond. As each minute continued to pass by in silence, Bethany began to wonder what she’d have to tell Morrigan if she ever made it back to the surface, let alone the little boy with Niamh’s kind smile. It would be such a terrible thing, she knew, informing them the woman they loved died trying to save her.

Just like everyone that ever entered her life.

Leaving before she even got the chance to give her goodbyes.

Bethany withdrew her healing magic and began conjuring lightning beneath her hands instead—the same way Niamh had taught her once upon a time—desperate for anything that could attempt to shock some life back into the other woman. Niamh’s body jolted with each burst of power, head lolling about along the dirt, but she still remained impossibly beyond Bethany’s reach—perhaps now wandering past the Fade and into the Maker’s embrace.

At the thought, her anguish soon gave way to anger.

“Damn you, you selfish wretch!” she shouted as she pressed her hand over the woman’s sternum with another pulse of electricity. “I never asked you to try and save my life! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to just leave me here when I never had to chance to tell you everything! Not when you don’t even know I love y—”

Just as she went to jolt the other woman again, Bethany felt a hand firmly wrapping itself around her wrist.

Shocked, she looked up toward Niamh's face, especially as she heard a very weak cough. The other mage hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she saw how the still blue-tinged lips began to move—too soft for her to hear anything. Bethany lowered her head to listen more closely and soon heard a quiet question.

"...are you alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears began to fill Bethany's eyes again in spite of herself.

Even after everything they had both suffered through, Niamh's first concern had still been solely for her.

With a shaky breath, she carefully curled herself up against Niamh’s form, crying silently even as she rested her hand against the other woman's stomach to continue and apply weak, healing magic.

That was how the other Wardens found them later.

"There they are."

Bethany didn’t pick her head up off the floor, but there was little mistaking Morrigan's distinct voice. Saoirse’s own followed soon after.

"I owe you my thanks for this, Morrigan."

“Thank your sister; I would not have been able to find her were she still not wearing the ring I gave her years ago.”

A weary chuckled greeted the mage’s words. “Ever the sentimental woman, my little sister…”

The sound of heavy footsteps treading closer caused Bethany to look up, and she could see Saoirse kneeling down next to them. The warrior’s face was worn with stress, but there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she saw them both together. "It appears I owe you my thanks as well, Bethany." She jerked her head up then, shouting out an order. "Get a litter for them now!"

"But I'm not nearly as injured," Bethany protested, drawing her hand away from Niamh’s body self-consciously, especially when Morrigan appeared and began to take over healing and stabilizing the woman’s condition with fresh magic.

"No," Saoirse admitted even as her lips lifted up into a tired smile. "But you and I both know what a terrible patient my sister is. I’ll be depending on you to make sure she behaves herself if she wakes up during our trek back to Vigil’s Keep.” She gently clapped a hand over Bethany’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

“Warden-Commander—”

“No. Niamh and I have lost enough in our lives. It would have hurt me to lose her as well.”

---

Niamh remains unconscious for several days as she recovers back at Vigil's Keep.

Bethany and Morrigan basically take turns looking after her.

Despite the other woman’s position as a member of Orlais’ Imperial Court, it seemed Morrigan returned to Ferelden after receiving a frantic letter from Saoirse, saying that Niamh and Bethany had been missing for several days following a routine mission.

As mentioned in the previous section, Morrigan gave Niamh a ring, which would allow her to find her were she ever in danger. It proved especially useful when Niamh and the other Wardens were imprisoned in Fort Drakon, where Saoirse essentially put her foot in her mouth and ruined their attempt to sneak Queen Anora out of the estate she had been held captive in.

I believe the ring is only canonically available if a player is in a romance with Morrigan. However, I’m headcanoning that because she held Niamh in such high esteem, she gave it to her anyway.

Kieran is also present at Vigil’s Keep because there’s no way Morrigan was leaving him behind in Orlais. He’s about five years old at this point, and he’s grown to inherit both his mothers’ looks. A crown of dark, loose curls sits atop his head much like Niamh’s, and he even fashions a forelock like hers, which hangs in front of his right eye. His gaze is a piercing shade of gold reminiscent to Morrigan’s own. As a possessor of an Old God Soul, he’s also begun to speak cryptically at times, which is understandably jarring to those around him.

Bethany happens upon one such conversation by accident, and she immediately pauses in the doorway when she sees Morrigan and Kieran standing at Niamh’s bedside.

“Sire was caught within the paths of the Fade, Mother. She heard the voices of old ghosts calling to her, but she didn’t follow them.”

Morrigan indulgently runs a hand through her son’s hair. “Indeed; she did not.”

“She missed them though, but she still returned to us.”

“Of course. Why would she desire an eternity without you?” she asked with a fond smile, causing Kieran to giggle.

“That’s not why, Mother! Not completely.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She would have missed the Sunshine too much. She’s been following her warmth for years. It would have hurt her to be without it.”

Kieran’s words pull at Bethany oddly, but she soon pushes them out of her mind and quietly walks away, feeling too much like an intruder upon the small family.

Thankfully, Niamh regains consciousness not long afterward, and everyone is understandably relieved by this news.

As per usual, however, Niamh proves herself to be an exceedingly stubborn patient, but perhaps wanting to set a better example for Kieran after her near-death experience, she remains in bed for the duration of her recovery. The other woman doesn’t seem to mind too much, especially given that her son continues to keep her company, telling her of the various odd things he’s seen around Orlais and the even odder people.

After several weeks under Morrigan’s watchful eye, the witch begrudgingly says that Niamh's okay to begin light duty around the Keep, relieving the other mage immensely. She goes out herb-gathering, an excuse just to get out of the fortress, and Bethany volunteers to go with her.

Things are quiet between them for a time as they begin picking up elfroot to place in the shared basket between them. Their conversations as of late haven't been of anything too substantial. A good thing, Bethany thinks, considering her feelings for her and how close she’d been to revealing them. Soon, however, they're caught in the middle of a light rain shower, and Bethany says they should head back. She begins to lead their way out of the forest when Niamh’s words stop her in her tracks.

---

"I was waiting for you to say it again, you know."

Bethany looked over her shoulder in surprise to still see Niamh standing in the middle of the clearing, her gaze expectant. “What?” she asked nervously.

"When I nearly died, I heard you say something… significant to me,” she revealed, causing Bethany’s heart to pound as she stared at her in disbelief. “However, when I recovered and you never repeated those words again, I thought it might have been little more than a fever dream of mine." Niamh's smile turned sad then when Bethany said nothing else to her words. "Perhaps it was after all... I’m sorry. I’ve made this rather awkward then, haven’t I?” She took a few steps closer, reaching toward the basket of herbs Bethany still held in her hands. “Here, let me—”

But Bethany just let it drop to the ground before she reached out to grab the collar of Niamh’s cloak. The other woman seemed taken aback, but before she can even begin voicing a question, Bethany pulled her forward to kiss her desperately in the rain, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

As far as first kisses went, it was a touch awkward as their teeth clicked together, lips mashed between them. Bethany felt a moment of panic as Niamh pulled back, but before the urge to run away in mortification could overtake her, a warm palm pressed itself against the back of her neck, keeping her in place. There was the brush of knuckles as they ran along her jaw, and Bethany was just able to catch the silver of Niamh’s eyes before all thought fled from her mind upon feeling the soft press of the other woman’s mouth on hers.

Bethany followed into the easy guidance being offered, and they both soon settled into a comfortable rhythm that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She felt light-headed with giddy delight, and her hands reached out to hold onto Niamh’s hips, helping to ground herself there, as their kiss continued. There was a soft sound as Niamh sighed contentedly into her mouth, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment between them.

The thought seemed almost too impossible to comprehend, especially when she knew Niamh was committed to someone else. As such, Bethany pulled away first despite the sound of protest it caused. Despite her resolve, Bethany was reluctant to pull away from Niamh entirely, so she settled for gently leaning her forehead against the other mage as they panted quietly in the rain.

"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly, practically speaking the words against Niamh’s lips. "It wasn't my intention to interfere with your relationship with Morrigan."

As close as they were, there was little mistaking the clear confusion in the eyes across from hers. "'With Morrigan?'" Niamh repeated. "What does she have anything to do with us?"

"But… I thought—” Her brows drew together in consternation. “Aren’t you both together?"

"What? No," Niamh answered, almost amused by the idea. "When we laid together for the ritual, it was an agreement of mutual benefit meant only for that night. She's not—Well." An exhale of breath escaped her in the form of laughter. "Morrigan's admitted she's not interested in women—or anyone, really—in quite that way, but none of the male Wardens with us at the time dared to lay with her even if it meant sparing us all from death. She trusted me, and I her. I consider Morrigan one of my dearest friends, and we share Kieran together as a result of that night, yes, but we are certainly not bound together as others seem to believe."

And Niamh’s answer suddenly changed everything.

What Bethany had been feeling, what was now possible between her and Niamh...

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally realized she could have a bit of the happiness she’d always wanted for herself.

---

So everyone knows that they’re a couple after that.

Niamh becomes more overt in the romantic things she does for her—the very same things Bethany had thought were the woman simply being thoughtful. She finds out that Niamh had apparently been interested in her for awhile and had actually been ready to confess her feelings a few years ago, but their first argument, where Bethany had accused her of being too idealistic, had stemmed the thought immediately.

Niamh had been understandably heartbroken by the words, which was why she’d had been so despondent for weeks following the incident, believing Bethany had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. The apology in her office later had restored their friendship, and while Niamh had been disappointed it likely would never evolve into anything more beyond that, she was still determined to be a good friend to her if nothing else.

Bethany’s completely exasperated at the idea that they could have been together long before now, but she realizes it was likely better this way.

She had needed time to get over her anger and resentment regarding her life as a Warden.

She needed time to get past her guilt and the complicated thoughts regarding herself and her faith.

And she needed time to grow into herself and discover who she was as a person.

She’s grateful that Niamh’s been so kind and patient over the years, and Bethany finds great joy in the new facet of their relationship together.

They’ve kissed and been involved in heavy makeout sessions around Vigil’s Keep—much to the exasperation of their colleagues—but barring the incident that led to Kieran’s conception, Niamh’s been celibate for years, and canonical dialogue in DA2 reveals that Bethany’s pretty much a virgin. As such, she’s understandably very shy and nervous about the whole thing. However, she knew every part of her would be in good hands with Niamh when they finally reached that point.

Their first time together takes place several months after their first kiss, where Niamh tries her utmost to make it a memorable thing for them. She takes Bethany to a grove they frequent together outside of Vigil’s Keep for a midnight picnic. The moon is full, and the skies are clear, revealing an endless sea of stars. Little fireflies dance over the surface of the lake while they sit on the grass along its shore.

It’s a casual reminder that for all their hardship, life goes on and finds a way through a magic all of its own.

They stargaze for and handfeed each other little bits of food in between kisses, but soon things start getting a little more heated. Niamh gently tugs Bethany onto her lap, who follows willingly, settling her knees on either side of the woman’s hips. Bethany takes some initiative of her own, pushing at Niamh’s chest slowly until she lowers herself against the grass, and then…

---

Bethany’s breath caught in her throat upon seeing Niamh’s features haloed by the soft glow of the little fireflies. Normally pale eyes had darkened at their edges with both pleasure and interest as she regarded her, leaving Bethany flushed, especially as she realized she doesn’t quite know what to do from there on out.

Perhaps having sensed that, Niamh reached up to gently run a thumb along the corner of her mouth, and Bethany barely resisted the urge to press her lips against the pad in a kiss as slim fingers then went to cup her cheek gently.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Niamh reassured as she brushed a few strands of Bethany’s hair behind an ear. “I quite like kissing you.”

But Bethany did want to.

She knew Niamh had more experience with sexual intimacy, and she worried she couldn’t be able to compare against the woman’s past paramours. There was no expectation in those starlit eyes however. Niamh was as relaxed as she had been when they first started, and Bethany knew she would have been more than content to lay with her beneath the stars if that was all she desired. She was always considerate with her feelings, never pressing her to do more than she was ready.

Thus, Bethany knew Niamh would be patient with her during their first time together.

“If I asked, would you show me what to do?” she whispered tentatively, and she watched as the corners of those lips turned up into soft smile.

“Always,” Niamh answered, gently tugging Bethany’s hand toward the buckle holding the front of her leather and steel-riveted brigandine closed. “Here. Help me out of this first please.”

From there, Bethany quickly realized it all wasn’t quite as simple as the tawdry novels Isabela used to loan her made it out to be. Nothing really prepared for the warmth of the flesh beneath her fingertips as she gradually disrobed her lover of the layers that made up their Warden regalia. Fortune favored the bold, she knew, and she experimented by pressing kisses against skin as more was revealed to her. She smiled against Niamh’s sternum—pleased—when she heard the exceedingly rare quiver in her voice.

As promised, however, the other woman continued to give suggestions on what types of touches would best give pleasure, but she also allowed Bethany to set the pace of whatever she felt most comfortable with. With each encouraging whisper against her ear, each caress and rock of her hand became more confident. When Niamh shuddered beneath her for the first time—the barest hint of magic curling against her own—as she reached her peak, Bethany was convinced that she had never felt more triumphant.

And she didn’t think she had ever felt so unfettered when Niamh later returned the favor by kissing a line of fire down her bare body. Those mist-grey eyes never left her own gaze though. Bethany had long known how attentive the other mage could be. As their lead tactician, there was always a studious quality in how she approached anything set before her.

Feeling the full magnitude of that attention focused solely upon her, however, was another matter entirely. Niamh stared at her as if she had hung the very moon and the infinite tapestry of stars into the night sky. It was like she was her very reason for drawing breath, and the thought of that brought forth a stunning wash of emotions over her as she saw the clear reverence in those eyes—so much so that she couldn’t help the tears beading themselves across her lashes nor her soft, surprised exhale of laughter when Niamh leaned up to gently kiss them away.

It was only when she assured her lover that she was ready to continue that Niamh returned to her exploration. The woman was committed to learning every part of her, gauging every physical response—the touches that made her moan breathlessly or sigh in contentment with the press of lips against her skin—before reacting accordingly. She felt that dedication most vividly as a warm mouth settled between her thighs and began working itself thoroughly there.

Bethany couldn’t help but break eye contact with Niamh as she threw her head back against the cool grass, lost to the new but pleasant sensations coursing their way through her body. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, especially as the almost overwhelming heat of a tongue pressed itself flat and lapped languidly at her.

After a time, it felt like she was freefalling, and she blindly reached out toward Niamh. One hand sank itself easily into the tousled waves of raven-black hair, but with the other, Bethany found slim fingers gently intertwining themselves with her own. There was strength and reassurance within the warmth of that grasp—a steady tether to ground her—even as Niamh continued with her ministrations, quickly unraveling the foundations of her world.

Were you the answer this entire time?

Were you the one whom my heart was always waiting for?

Bethany found her answer just as her climax crested over her.

---

The next scene takes place several months after Niamh’s and Bethany’s first time together but just before the Kirkwall Rebellion.

Niamh heads over to Amaranthine to see her aunt, Eithne Mac Eanraig, since she's the Arlessa there.

Now, here’s where I’m veering off from canon.

Per the events of Awakening, the Warden ends up becoming the Warden-Commander, and for their services during the Fifth Blight, Vigil’s Keep along with the entire arling of Amaranthine was given to the Grey Wardens. The fortress and the territory originally belonged to the Howes, but after Rendon Howe’s betrayal, all titles and properties were stripped away from them. As such, the Warden-Commander would also become the Arl or Arlessa of Amaranthine.

Per my headcanon though, Saoirse felt that she couldn’t tend to both her duties as a Warden while also ruling over the arling. Thus, she suggests to King Alistair to let her aunt oversee it instead.

While Eithne is technically my own creation, it was canonical that Eleanor had three siblings prior to marrying Bryce Cousland. All the children of Bann Fearcher Mac Eanraig—also known as the Storm Giant—were exceedingly skilled raiders although Eleanor was the most infamous of them. Still, I headcanon that Eithne’s own prowess allowed her to take over as head of the family and their impressive fleet after her father’s death sometime before the events of DAO.

I also headcanon that the Mac Eanraigs and their fleet proved instrumental during the Fifth Blight, allowing desperately-needed supplies to travel to the country without fear of them being intercepted by pirates. When the reconstruction of Ferelden began in full following the defeat of the Archdemon, Eithne opted to expand the services of her family’s fleet, offering to escort any incoming and also outgoing cargo ships. This allowed trade to flourish in Ferelden since the threat of piracy was reduced greatly against the might of the former raiding family and their respective crews. With goods being consistently transported and received, it led to the otherwise pricey import and export tariffs being lowered significantly.

It expanded the influence of the Mac Eanraigs considerably to say the least, and while they were of minor nobility compared to the Couslands, the family was already well-respected for their long connection to the Storm Coast and their role in the Fereldan Rebellion as well as the Fifth Blight.

As such, no objection was given by Ferelden’s Bannorn when the Mac Eanraigs were consequently raised further in nobility by the decree of King Alistair and Queen Anora, allowing Eithne to officially be named Arlessa to the city of Amaranthine.

---

"Aunt Eithne," Niamh began, walking into her office, "may I have access to the castle's forge?"

The older woman was sat behind her desk, looking through various reports when she glanced up at her. Kind, weathered features warmed instantly. "Ah, there's my wee Storm Pup," she said as she rose to her feet to meet her. "You know you’re welcome to anything within the castle, lass. I take it that blacksmith of yours is being stubborn at Vigil’s Keep again?"

As per usual, Niamh found herself looking up at her aunt as she rounded the edge of her desk. While her late mother Eleanor had been roughly her own size, the Mac Eanraigs as a whole towered over most people with their intimidating height and broad-shouldered frames—traits that Fergus and also Saoirse inherited as they grew into adulthood. In her youth, Niamh remembered that her Aunt Eithne had also possessed her mother’s pale blonde hair, but it had since turned silver with age and was now kept in a neat braid that dangled in front of her right shoulder. She imagined that Saoirse would likely resemble their aunt greatly in looks over the next few decades.

…provided they find a cure against the Calling first, of course.

Morrigan’s arcane research had turned up several possibilities, but the latest one she’d found seemed especially promising. Still, Niamh put the thought from her mind momentarily to answer her aunt’s question.

"You and I both know Master Wade won’t allow anyone to go near his forge. He’d pout for weeks on end before we could convince him to resume work again,” she said dryly before shrugging. “Just as well, I suppose. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. What I have in mind is more of a personal project."

Dark grey eyes blinked. "Oh?" she intoned curiously.

"It's... Well." Niamh shifted from foot to foot, a tad nervous to put her thoughts into words. "I'm making matching torcs for Bethany and I, so—oof!"

No sooner after she had stated her purpose did Niamh unexpectedly found herself drawn up into a crushing hug by her aunt, who lifted her clear off her feet with the force of it.

"Haha!" Eithne crowed with delighted laughter as she twirled her about. "Wait until I tell your uncles about this! Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding in the family!"

"We had one a year ago for Fergus and Olithia," Niamh corrected hoarsely as she tried to wriggle out of her aunt's grip to little avail. Corded muscles built over a lifetime at sea ensured the woman’s strength was nigh unbreakable. "And there was another for Saoirse and Leliana before that."

"Details, wee niece, details," she brushed aside when she placed Niamh back on her feet again, placing large hands over each of her shoulders with a grin. "Honestly, I was half-convinced my ashes would be scattered across the sea before I saw my last niece be married off! Dermot!" she called out loudly beyond the walls of office to her second-in-command, leaving Niamh wincing from the sheer volume of it. "Break out the casks! We’re celebrating tonight!"

Niamh merely sighed, somehow glad that Bethany was currently away from Vigil’s Keep with Nathaniel to tend to a matter out in another seaside province. There was no way she’d be able to surprise her with a proposal otherwise.

---

Bethany didn't know what to really expect when Niamh took her out to their favored grove, but then she was offered a… necklace of some sort. It was thick and sturdy but exquisitely-crafted. It formed an incomplete circle, but there was no clasp holding both ends together. As she took the necklace into her own hands, she found there was a certain pliability to it as she stretched the space between the twin, silverite wolf heads open a bit more.

"I spent weeks getting the details just right," Niamh admitted. "The hardest part was finding the perfect bits of citrine to match your eyes," she added, pointing to the small, gemstone orbs held in the maw of each wolf.

"You made this for me?" Bethany asked, awed.

"Yes. It’s a custom from the maternal side of my family. They’re generally gifted to those of status or individuals who have achieved great deeds. The more bands woven together designate one's importance." Niamh's expression turned somewhat sheepish then. "I don't think it needs to be said that I think highly of you."

Bethany looked at the thick braiding and saw that there were at least five bands wound together in a cord and then welded together.

"I..." Niamh wet her lips briefly, as if caught beneath sudden nervousness. "I realize marriage is usually just a matter of settling titles and heirs, but I believe you know by now that my family tends to eschew commonly-held norms. As such, I would consider it a great honor if you were to become my wife. As for anything official—a wedding for instance—we needn't concern ourselves with it right away. Not if you don't wish to certainly." Silver-colored eyes rolled themselves. "Honestly, my family uses any type of excuse available to throw a celebration. They’ll likely still drink the night away, knowing that I’ve finally settled down with someone."

Bethany couldn’t help but laugh at that. "They were that invested, were they?"

"Before you, they had a tendency to think I was more married to my duty within the Order, and I can’t say that were not wrong in thinking so."

"And that’s changed?"

"Well... I was managing day by day as well as any of our comrades, but I won’t lie in saying that there came a point when you were all I could ever think about in the many moments in between."

It was… quite the confession.

In an instant, all the stories her mother had ever told her of romance paled in comparison to this moment.

"Yes," Bethany said at last, watching as the ghostly-grey eyes across from her widened, but there was little hiding the hope building within their depths.

"Yes?"

"Yes to the—" She stumbled a bit over the word. "—torcs, you said?” Bethany asked in clarification, earning her a nod along with a very relieved sigh. “I don’t want a ceremony.” She bit her lip as she stared down at the thickly-braided necklace. “At least not just yet, but I like the idea of the promise these contain.”

“You would like to have your sister here when the time comes,” Niamh deduced understandingly. “Very well.”

“You can wait?”

A very warm smile burnished beautiful features that she had long fallen in love with so many years ago. “A Chuisle Mo Chroí,” she began, voicing an endearment that never ceased to make her heart flutter, “for you, I would gladly wait a thousand Ages and more.” (Writer’s note: A Chuisle Mo Chroí is phonetically pronounced Ah Khush-lah Muh Kree and means “Pulse of My Heart.”)

The words earned her a heartfelt kiss of gratitude. If Niamh noticed Bethany was trembling, she said nothing of it. In fact, they both had little to say at all as they slowly lowered themselves to the grass and surrendered themselves to the night and the promise of everyday thereafter.

---

The Kirkwall Rebellion still happens in this verse, and because Saoirse's busy butting heads with the higher-ups at Weisshaupt, she sends word to Niamh, asking her to go to Kirkwall to provide Leliana backup if things get bad. Bethany is concerned as well about the well-being of her sister Emrys, and she asks to go with her. Niamh, of course, can't really deny her anything, so they both take the fastest ship across the Waking Sea.

---

"There you are," Bethany declared when she managed to come across her sister and her companions despite the chaos around them. She settled her staff over her back, walking through the tangle of defeated Templars around her to meet them. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I'd almost feared you were dead."

Emrys hadn’t expected Bethany’s presence in the city, but she’s beyond elated to see her. At her words, the warrior merely preened. "As if they'd be able to best me. And, uh, what’s this about 'we?'" Emrys asked, confused. “Did you bring the other Wardens with you?”

“Just one.”

As if attuned to her thoughts, Niamh made her entrance then by Fadestepping through a handful of Templars—who had arrived on scene as backup—freezing them in their tracks. She and Bethany had momentarily split up to try and cover more ground in search of Emrys.

Bethany arched a brow at her sister while gesturing toward her lover with an emphatic wave. "You remember Warden-Constable Cousland, don’t you?"

Emrys had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as she recalled their last meeting, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she regarded Niamh. "Oh. Yes. Uh, about the last time we met—"

But Niamh seemed amused more than anything, waving aside the apology graciously. “Bygones, Champion. No need to worry yourself about the past. My sister’s a warrior as well; I’ve fared worse on the rare occasion."

"In any case, Sister, if you need help, we’ll gladly give it."

“Really?”

“Yes. I…” Bethany swept a bit of hair behind her ear nervously, but as Niamh settled alongside her, offering her wordless support, she continued on. “I wanted to apologize for what happened down in the Deep Roads and for how we parted the last time I was here. You saved my life, but I couldn’t see past my own anger back then. I’m sorry,” she whispered, contrite. “I should have said it long before now. You’re all I have left of our family, so if you need help against the Templars, say the word.”

Emrys looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of having her at her side again. “I’m certainly not going to turn away help now of all times, but…” She shot a look of confusion over toward Niamh. “I thought Wardens weren’t to involve themselves in political matters?"

The other mage merely sighed. “While true, that follows a line of policy that my sister and I strenuously object to, especially given the matter involved here. She and I will deal with the leadership at Weisshaupt later if need be." Slim shoulder shrugged themselves then. "Of course, even if my sister-in-law weren't nearby, Bethany wanted to help, and that was good enough reason for me to be here."

Emrys’ dark brows rose at the claim, and she immediately turned a searching gaze over toward Bethany, who couldn’t help but turn her own away, flushing somewhat.

"Yes… Niamh and I are a bit of a package deal these days."

Unfortunately, the minor shift in movement allowed for something else to be revealed, and Isabela took notice of it immediately as her eyes darted toward the area of her neck just beneath the collar of her uniform.

“Wait… is that a torc?" she asked, brows raising, impressed.

“A what?" Emrys asked, flustered, especially when she saw the matching one that Niamh was also wearing.

“It's a little bit of tradition from my mother’s side of the family,” Niamh explained. “They’re beautifully-crafted pieces of jewelry, but they can be as symbolic as rings, especially in the ceremonial sense."

"'Rings?'" Emrys parroted with a choke. “‘Ceremon—’” The warrior paled instantly as she realized the implication, shakily pressing her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself when she began swaying in place. “Oh, Maker’s breath… I think—I need a moment,” she murmured, and Bethany watched—concerned—when Emrys practically folded in over herself, working to catch a breath. After a time, Emrys’ comically-wide blue eyes turned over to Niamh. “You’re married to my baby sister?"

"Engaged, technically," Niamh answered, blinking owlishly at her reaction. “I proposed to her before we left Ferelden."

---

Annnnd then Saoirse shows up because she got worried about Leliana, and she and Emrys get along like peas in a pod. They’re exceedingly competitive with one another though...

---

“Hah!” Saoirse crowed, grinning smugly at Emrys as she rested the flat of her greatsword along her shoulder. “Is that the best Kirkwall’s Champion can do? I managed to neatly cleave my opponent in half.”

Emrys merely scowled, matching pace with Saoirse as they marched toward The Gallows. “Only because I helped! Besides, that strike wouldn’t have held against him if he had a shield as well!”

“Yes, it would have!”

“Lies!” Emrys scoffed. “It would have been caught halfway through the shield before you would have been able to reach his armor!“

“Not with the proper leverage it wouldn’t have!”

As they argued heatedly about sword techniques, Niamh and Bethany shared a long-suffering glance with one another before moving on ahead of their respective sisters.

“Warriors…”

“Indeed.”

---

Eventually, this all culminates in that huge battle at the end of DA2, where Meredith is defeated. As per canon, it becomes clear that it’s no longer safe for Emrys and her companions to remain within the city without eventually facing possible repercussions from the Chantry. As such, they begin scattering to the winds not long after the end of the rebellion.

---

"You could come with us, you know," Emrys suggested.

Bethany looked over to where her sister stood next to Isabela, ready to board the ship that would take them to Antiva. Emrys’ expression was almost painfully hopeful, but Bethany knew it wasn't meant to be. Although she had resented it once upon a time, she had a duty to the Wardens, and she would not easily abandon it. She said as much to her sister.

"No. Niamh currently seeks a cure that affects the lives of every Warden."

"A cure for the Calling?” she asked, surprised. “Is that even possible?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is easily the cleverest person I’ve ever met though. If there is a solution, she will be the most likely one to find it, and I will not stand to be apart from her."

"I see.” Emrys rubbed the back of her neck, shoulders slumping somewhat. “So… this is goodbye again."

It was admittedly a bittersweet feeling, knowing that this had been the first time in years they had seen one another and it would likely be several more yet before they would meet again.

"For now,” she answered quietly. “You have your life, Sister, and now…" She glanced over at Niamh, who was talking to the captain of a ship heading back to lands far to the west—ones that had never been touched by the Blight, according to Morrigan. “I have mine.”

Emrys followed her gaze. “You seem happier."

"I am."

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know? Just to know that you were happy.”

“I know that now." Her smile turned more genuine as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Emrys, hugging her for all she was worth. "I wish the same upon you always. Safe travels to you and Isabela, Sister."

---

And as mentioned in the bullet points up above, they spend several years traveling abroad. Some days are harder than others as they meet their fair share of challenges, but Niamh and Bethany support each endlessly through it all.

They both return to Ferelden several years after the Trepasser DLC when they’ve found a cure for the Calling. With the taint purged from their bodies, they’re guaranteed the long life that would have otherwise been denied to them. As such, Niamh and Bethany finally get married—torcs gleaming bright—as Leliana as Divine Victoria officiates the wedding.

---

And that’s pretty much it.

I have about 20 pages of random scenes I’ve yet to elaborate on for this AU, including one for the huge battle at the end of DA2, so while I don’t see it as being nearly as long as OtSttCA, it’ll likely make for quite the lengthy read when I finally get a chance to work on it properly.

Still, if this verse interests you, leave me a like, a comment, or just swing by my inbox to tell me your thoughts! Until next time, readers! Take care!

#dragon age 2 #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #female cousland/bethany hawke #fanfic #my writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #if bioware's too much of a fucking coward to write any version of Bethany a happy ending then i'll write all of them!#we respect bethany hawke endlessly on this blog!

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between-two-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Thunder In His Mind

Another Franken Fic for your reading pleasure, brought to you by @thesevenumbrellas and @random-nerd-3, sponsored by the JatP 18 + Discord.

Ao3 link here

cw: past-gaslighting, trauma, ptsd

Summary:

There's more to Willie than what meets the eye and Alex has to find out in one of the worst ways possible. It's all Willie can do to not fall apart in his arms during a thunderstorm.

The worst part about being a ghost Willie thinks, is - that he knows - is that you can’t really check the weather. There are plus sides to it sure, skateboarding wherever he wants - but not whenever because that’s something Caleb controls - an extremely cute Hot Dog ghost boyfriend? Also a plus to being undead. The weather is an issue though, it had been for years. Ever since the day he died in that car accident. Being dead meant you can’t feel anything physically; you can’t feel the heat of the sun against your skin or the wetness of the rain when it fell from the sky.

The issue at hand is the thunder.

It’s the thunder because the loud echoing booming claps of the storm reminds him of the ear shattering crack that cut through the air when he died. When he skated into the road to save the life of a little girl who forgot to look both ways. “My name is Rose,” she whispered, tightly squeezing Willie’s hand between her tiny fingers. He can remember struggling to breathe - he found out later in the medical report that his ribs were shattered. Another boom of thunder sounded over head and Willie couldn’t help but wince slightly at the sound of it.

“Roses are strong flowers,” Willie managed to say between his hyperventilation. “You need to be strong,” he can remember saying. The shadow touch of the blood caked to the side of his head made him reach up to place his hand against it as he began to scratch at the side of his head.

“Willie?” Alex asked the question as he gently pulled Willie’s hand away from his face. Willie wasn’t dying all over again. He was here in the present with Alex, his amazingly awesome boyfriend who made him question whatever cosmic being ran the universe because in no possible world did he deserve someone as amazing as the drummer. “You okay?” Alex asked again, snuggling closer into him, wrapping his arms around Willie like he was a koala. They’re curled up in the dark corners of a Pride art exhibition together, broke in after it closed early because of the storm. The walls are painted with rainbows, filled with bright colors and Willie could feel hope sneaking through the pain he locked away long ago when he first signed onto the club. It was after hours so they spent time walking through the exhibits acting as each other’s tour guides only to end up snuggling together on the floor once the storm started to get more serious.

He wants to say no I’m not. He wants to say help me Alex, please. He doesn’t though because like Caleb always says, outside of skating he’s a coward through and through. Willie exhales slowly and when he spoke he tried to make it sound like he wasn’t lying to the only person who loved him back. “I’m fine,” Willie says, his voice dry and cracking and he knows Alex won’t believe him in a thousand years. Another clash of thunder sounds overhead and Willie couldn’t help but flinch again, he pointedly avoided looking Alex in the eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Alex says softly. They were lying so close to each other that Willie could feel the vibrations in Alex’s chest when he spoke. The low timbre of the beat of his heart reminding Willie that he was safe . Reminding Willie that he was loved outside of whatever relationship he had with Caleb. Then Alex presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and whispers, “it’s okay not to be though. You know that right?”

Willie wants to be okay, he wants to keep pretending. That he hasn’t been . He's been dead the longest between the two of them after all, Alex needed him to be his grounding force and he couldn't be that for him if he was weak. But Willie was tired, he was so tired of being a ghost. He was tired because Caleb had been breathing down his neck recently, working everyone in the club to the bone after Alex and his friends escaped. Not that Willie blamed Alex because Alex was kind and Alex was good and he didn't deserve him . But apparently Alex had other plans in mind because suddenly Alex wrapped his arm around Willie and held him close, like he was something cherished, like he was precious . It wasn’t at all like Caleb’s cold shoulder pats after a long night of entertaining the guests or Caleb’s short worded compliments. Alex was warm.

“I’m sorry,” Willie whispers, turning to bury his face into Alex’s sweatshirt like they were a secret meant only for Alex to hear. He lets himself curl into his boyfriend, legs tucked in as close as possible, fingers clinging to the warm familiarity of the pink sweatshirt. He can hear Alex’s heart beating a gentle rhythm over the thunder. Just rest for a moment, Willie thinks to himself, still keeping up his guard. Caleb is going to want him back to the club after the storm ends. He doesn’t want to show up with bloodshot eyes and a tear streaked face - it would be hard for the makeup girls to get him ready for tonight’s performance. Willie waits, his shoulders tense in anticipation but Alex doesn’t speak. Instead he presses his lips firmly to the top of his head, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. For the next few minutes they stay like that, curled into each other with Alex wrapped around him protecting him from the harm of the outside world.

Then lightning flashes and Willie braces himself for the clap of angry clouds over their heads but it doesn't come. Which didn't make any sense because thunder always comes after lightening. Willie’s conditioned to it, anxiety building up in his chest as he waits for the tell tale sound of a car cracking his helmet in two. Willie fools himself, letting Alex's low hum wash over the eerie silence of the museum and then - and then... right when Willie let himself relax completely the loudest fucking thunderclap in the whole world cracks over head and Willie jumps, poofing out of Alex's arms and somehow manages to solidify across the exhibit, knees pulled into himself tightly, his fingernails digging into his skin; a welcome pain to distract him from the onslaught of memories and pressing his hands against his ears in a weak attempt to block out the memories flashing through his eyelids.

In times like these, times where he’s stuck and he’s trapped and he can’t find a way out are the worst. He has to remember though, to remind himself that he isn’t alone anymore and that even though he felt like his world was crumbling around him that it actually wasn’t. That Alex was there and Alex was solid and Alex was - well, he wasn’t alive but he was warm. “Shh, I’m here,” Alex murmured, his voice a blessing in the chaos of Willie’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” Willie whispers again, this time voicing his apology louder. He lets Alex hold him, wrapping his arms around him like he’s a child being comforted. “It’s so stupid I -” Willie starts before Alex cuts him off with a light tsk.

“It’s not.”

“It is ,” Willie insists, unsure of how Alex couldn’t see how foolish it was that he, a grown ass man, was afraid of a little storm. Alex wraps his arms around Willie, rocking him gently to the rhythm of the rain hitting the roof above them.

“You help me when I freak out,” Alex points out and well… yeah he does but that’s different. It’s different because he’s Willie and Alex is Alex. Alex, who never deserved to die just as his dream had become tangible. Alex, who Willie had betrayed and hurt. Alex who he almost lost because like Caleb says… Willie’s selfish and stupid and desperate for anything remotely beautiful in his life. Alex is so beautiful. He knows that to be true even now, as the thunder rolls overhead and the lighting falls around them. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him sometimes. His smile is so earnest, his concern so genuine. He holds Willie like he’s worth protecting, like he’s the only thing that matters in the world. Like… like he’s something precious meant to be treasured and protected and kept safe.

Willie’s not anything Alex thinks he is. He knows how much pain the world can give, how much more pain he’ll have to live through. As terrifying as knowing the pain is, it's even more terrifying because he knows the second he leaves here - the second he leaves the warmth and the safety of Alex and goes back to Caleb - the second he goes back home he'll lose this. He'll lose the safety net he built for himself because Alex doesn't like Caleb for some reason well no. Not for no reason. Alex has a very perfectly logical reason to hate the man who Willie saw as his surrogate father - even if their relationship seems a little too one sided at times- and he can't fathom a reason why Alex didn't hate him too because he had played a huge fucking role in getting the boys to the club and convincing them to sign their fucking souls over for the soul purpose of his selfishness. For thinking Alex would run the first chance he gets the second he realizes just how messed up he really is.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Alex says, finally breaking the silence between them. The sentence is said so matter of factly, Willie almost laughs. Almost being the key word in that sentence. Despite feeling like the world is crashing around him Willie lets a smirk cross his face as his eyes sparkle mysteriously.

“You can read my mind?” Willie asks, wincing at how intense it sounded, no sense of playfulness in the words at all. Alex doesn’t seem to mind the cutthroat question. He just hummed thoughtfully as he considered.

“It’s part of my ghost powers,” Alex answered back, Willie felt his smile against his shoulder.

The answer makes Willie snort which in turn makes Alex laugh and maybe Willie can finally let him have something nice and keep it . Alex’s giggles echo throughout the exhibit and Willie let the sound wrap around him, a blanket of warmth surrounding him in his cold.

“Oh yeah?” Willie manages to ask, the words sticky and dry. He swallowed thickly to hide the surge of panic in his throat. “What am I thinking of?” He asked, letting Alex press a kiss against the back of his head, his fingers starting to comb through his hair . Alex’s whispered suggestively into his ear, his throat ghosting against his neck when he placed a kiss against the exposed skin. Willie couldn’t help but let out a laugh, his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t deserve any of this, to be comforted during a storm when hiding in his HGC bedroom had worked just fine in the past. “That new trick you still haven’t shown me? The picture you laughed at because it looked like an upside down dog head?” Alex asked. The compulsion to look up overpowers his fear of the dark and when he finally does shift his head. Alex is almost shining in the light of the storm, his smile stretching across his face. In the midst of the storm he’s still shining brighter than Willie could ever shine himself. Alex smiles at him, his eyes twinkling in the reflection of a flash of lightning. “I’m thinking about how beautiful you are,” and there’s another clap of thunder but it isn’t as bad this time. Here, snuggled on the floor of a museum tucked between Alex’s strong arms was starting to help him relax more, keep his focus off the storm.

Suddenly, the shadows disappear and Willie's mind is cleared more than it's ever been before. There aren’t any expectations for Willie here. Alex isn’t Caleb. He doesn’t order Willie around or tell him to shush because he sounds like a whiny little boy when he complains about complicated choreography that was hard to nail down and the exhaustive rehearsal schedule that sometimes ended in Willie passing out in his room for over twelve hours straight before poofing into the middle of rehearsal to watch Alex kill it on his drums.

His world is once again centered on his gravity, his world, his boy in a pink sweatshirt.

Willie turned around, sitting so he was criss crossed on the floor and his fingers were intertwined with. Their noses brush together. He can feel the tickle of blond hair against his forehead where it’s escaped from the cap. “You good?” Alex asks, leaning forward slightly so their foreheads touch. Willie knows what he means the second he asks it. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that not everyone is like Caleb. That not everyone hides their intentions behind carefully crafted spiderwebs of lies. So at the next thunder crash Willie nods in response, his stomach still twisted in his gut but he was able to ignore it this time; ignore the pain he felt in his mind in exchange for Alex’s presence.

“Yeah, I’m good...” Willie says, nodding his head. They were close enough for their noses to brush against themselves. He’s surprised to discover how much he believed it even though he thought it was a lie. He’s good here with Alex. He’s good with a body protecting him from the thunder outside. He’s good to curl up here and dot kisses down his boyfriend’s jaw until he’s a blushing mess.

Because this is what home is, this is what he remembers his home being. He remembers the warmth and the kind eyes and the strong hugs and the pitter patter rabbit-like beat of his heart. Alex pulls him close again, Alex will always pull him close. And he's breathing. He's breathing. And Willie turns to smile into the nape of Alex's neck, letting the drummer tie off the braid with a spare hair tie and the drumming of his heart overpowering the sound of the clapping thunder echoing overhead. "Her name was Rose," Willie said suddenly, intertwining their fingers together, placing them over his heart.

"Rose?" Alex asks, his confusion masked by a hint of recognition in his voice. Willie nods as he plays with Alex's fingers, distracting himself from the distancing storm around them. She was so young , Willie could remember the flash of her smile, brighter than the sun had ever been. Ten years old was too young.

"The girl I saved when I died, when I raced into traffic? She was just standing there in the middle of the road alone and I - holy shit, Alex I died, " he said, the realization actually settling into his chest and he suddenly felt the weight of the car crush into his chest again.

Alex looks at him and for a split second, Willie can’t read his expression. “C’mere baby,” Alex whispers, pulling him in again. Willie collapsed into his chest, wrapping his arms around Alex’s back to twist his sweatshirt into his fists. For half a second the brief fear of pulling away flashes in his mind and Alex tightens his grip. Willie would never think about trying to pull away. “Willie you’re so brave, you know that? You’re so amazing. I mean me? I died eating a hot dog. You died saving someone, Willie. You’re incredible ,” Alex whispers and Willie can’t help but tense because baby.

Willie can't help the shudder that runs through his body hearing the pet name escape through Alex's lips. "Don’t - Don’t call me that," Willie said, starting to feel like he’s losing control again. He flickered and fell through Alex’s body landing on the floor in a heap. Caleb's warped whispers snaked into his ears, wrapping around his mind like a vice. William baby don’t you want to make me proud tonight? Caleb asks as he straightens Willie’s suit for him. Baby those steps were a little behind tonight. You need to pick up more rehearsal hours baby. I don’t need my best performer slacking off. What would my clients think? Caleb asked, his voice coiling around Willie’s thoughts and snaking through the cracks his fears left behind.

"Willie I'm sorry I -" Alex started, only for Willie to cut him off with a shake of his head. His hair fell in front of his face so Alex used his hand to hesitantly tuck it behind his ear.

"It’s fine. Pet names I mean just…” He trails off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. Thunder crashes again and Willie jumps before finishing his thought. “Just not that one okay?” Willie asks, hoping Alex wouldn’t pry. Hoping Alex would never have to see how horribly rotten he really is from the inside out. Alex’s forehead wrinkles in confusion but like Willie hoped he didn’t pry, but he knew the conversation was just getting tabled for a later date. “You got it,” Alex promised, leaning forward to seal it with a kiss to Willie’s forehead. Willie feels himself flicker and his hand passes through Alex’s. Thunder claps at the same time Willie flinches and he has to hope Alex thought he flinched because of the storm and not his touch. It wasn’t fair how deep Caleb has his claws into Willie, using him to hurt the people he loves.

Willie hates how hard he has to fight the tremble in his limbs as he clings to Alex like a lifeline. He inhales deeply, breathing in the perfume Alex somehow managed to get his hands on. Alex smelled like peaches and summertime and everything Willie used to love when he was alive. The smell helped ground his mind, keep him in the present instead of spiraling into worst case scenarios. Think, Willie thought to himself, one again breathing in the smell of peaches off the nape of Alex’s neck. His eyes are diamonds, his skin feels like silk, his heart beats to it’s own rhythm and you’re the one who gets to hear it. Willie thinks, trying to calm the twisting panic and rise of bile stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry,” Alex says, the words whispered quietly between thunder cracks. When he peels his eyes from the ground and finally looks his boyfriend in the eyes again he’s met with hard pressed diamonds reflecting in concern.

“Don’t be,” Willie says back and Alex’s concern warps into something akin to festering anger.

“I am . I -”

“ - I know.”

“ I’m sorry ,” Alex says again, like if he heard it enough he’d actually end up believing it. Willie just shook his head - another clap of thunder sounded so loudly it shook the walls of the museum. Willie tensed, his shoulders tightening despite knowing that he was safe here.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Willie points out. If anything he should be apologizing to Alex. He should be groveling at Alex’s feet begging for forgiveness because he was selfish and almost had him sell his soul over to Caleb.

Something reflects in Alex's eyes that Willie can’t quite place. It isn’t just confusion or concern or anger. It looks like Alex is feeling a mix of all three, with a twist of cold understanding layered on top of it. "You know you can trust me right? This relationship works both ways," Alex says softly, his voice starting to tremble. Willie didn’t understand why he was acting so... so sad. Willie let them fall into a comfortable sort of silence, tense but easy at the same time. The sound of the thunderstorm filling the museum in their quiet.

"I should... I should get going. Caleb lets me out during storms cause he knows about uh... but he'll be wanting me back." Willie says, pulling himself out of Alex's soft sweatshirt covered arms and away from the beating of his heart. Alex's eyes furrowed in confusion. He always did look cute when he was confused, like a puppy dog. The storm’s far enough away that the soft dribble of light rain is the only thing left behind in it’s wake, which means Caleb would send someone after him if he doesn’t show up in a few minutes.

"What do you mean? Willie, if I said something wrong I -'' Alex stammered out before Willie leans forward to press a chaste kiss against his lips, lingering for a few minutes when he finally pulls away. Alex knew about the car crash now, the real reason he was really dead. He knew he was afraid of storms - William not even children are afraid of storms. It's about time you grow up - Caleb's voice whispers in the back of his mind, cutting into his spiraling thoughts.

Willie stumbles to his feet. He’s still shaky, but he can walk. He doesn’t want to risk angering Caleb more than he has to. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. The words feel flat even to him. Alex knows it all now - well not all of it, but enough - and that knowledge is almost too much to take. His boyfriend stares at him, big green eyes confused and sincere... and so unlike anything Willie has seen in a long, long time.

“I can help,” Alex insists, refusing to let go of Willie’s hand. It pains him, but he has to leave. Caleb might be evil, he might be the cause of all of their problems… but after everything the ghost club was still the only thing Willie had left to call his home.

“Sometimes there’s nothing you can do Alex,” Willie whispers, gently placing his hand against Alex’s neck. Alex leans into his touch as he wraps his own hand around his.

“Willie-“ Alex starts again but before he hears Alex ask him to stay again because he knows he would. He’d do anything Alex asked him too if it made him happy but he owes Caleb his life and that’s not a debt he forgets easily. But Willie resorts back to his instincts because well, they haven’t led him astray yet and he keeps Alex at arms length when the familiar tug in his gut pulled him back to the Hollywood Ghost Club in time to get ready for Caleb’s opening act.

#julie and the phantoms #franken fic #jatp alex #jatp willie #angst #fanfiction #drabbles #whump #willie angst #we hurt the characters we love #jatp #ren's writing #i love the gays your honor #asdfeeasd #caleb covington

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