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chummywchimmy · 3 years

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SWEET BIRD

DISCLAIMER : This does not represent the personality of the real life counterparts of the characters used. I do not intend to glorify toxic behavior. I do not own BTS ( :((((( )

PAIRING : Jungkook x Reader

Warnings : Yandere themes, mentions of hunting animals (kindly mention any others that I might’ve missed in the comments.)

Summary : As the arrival of a new stranger brings prosperity into the village for many, it brings with it dread and misery for one - you.

A/N : I don’t know how this came out to be honest. Hope you like it!

-Aani

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Gold thread weaving over the white cloth, meandering throughout the sleeves of it’s pale canvas. The fabric laid over a wide wooden table, two ends of which were broken, creating a hazard for the young woman hunched over it, holding a needle in her nimble fingers.

Tired hands smoothed away pieces of unruly hair that escaped from her poorly secured bun. These rebellious strands fell into the girl’s eyes. This was a recipe for disaster since the woman in question required absolute focus in her as a seamstress. One wrong turn of a finger and she would not only ruin weeks worth of hardwork but also break the heart of the poor woman who looked forward to wearing the piece in the upcoming village festival.

She was startled from her meditation-like state as a knock resounded upon the creaky wooden door of her little workshop. Looking back only to find her best friend of many years, she smiled, relieved to have a reprieve from the task at hand.

“Y/N the sun’s almost gone down. What did I tell you about overworking yourself?” Gina scolded gently.

“Ah, I just need to get Mrs. Kim’s robes ready in time for the Spring Festival. Anyway, I’m almost done.” You yawned. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise.”

Gina laughed.

“Of course I haven’t. Your favorite dish is waiting for you at my place. Come now, let’s hurry before it tastes like a piece of cardboard.”

You make a horrified sound and rush to grab your brown cloth bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

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The arrival of Spring seems imminent as the two of you walk through the streets of your small village. Floor-length skirts floated gently in the wind as you and Gina make plans for the upcoming festival.

Spring Festival marked the arrival of spring and was a cause for celebration. Especially in your village. This time of the year was considered the happiest time of the year here. It was partly because the weather becomes perfect, neither too hot nor too cold.

Mostly thought it was due to the fact that during this season , at least for a little while, no one would go to bed on an empty stomach. The harvest season would be able to gather enough to feed people for a little while before they had to resort back to hunting animals to ensure the village’s sustenance.

Ever since you could remember, from as far back as you were eight, after your merchant parents’ had left you with your old, now dead, aunt you could only recall a handful amount of years that there hadn’t been a death in the village due to starvation.

The people in your village were “lovers, not fighters”, as Gina put. Every once in a while, the band of hunters from your village would manage to make a good catch, but it was not often. While the lands on the outskirts of your small village were were home to many a kind of species, the terrain of the land made it immensely difficult to hunt.

You were brought out of your musings as you reached Gina’s little cottage that she occupied with her husband, Mino. Mino was the son of the village headman and often was a part of the band of hunters. A good and honest man, if you’d ever known one.

Walking up to their blue-and-white cottage, you spied flowers beginning to bloom. The good times were coming.

“Dove, I think we might’ve put sugar instead of salt in the hotpot.” Mino’s panicked voice was the first thing you heard as you came inside and put your shoes away.

You and Gina looked at each other with looks of horrified amusement evident on your faces. Speedwalking to the little kitchen, you came upon Mino’s tall frame evidently panicking. His too-small-on-him pink and white apron hung off one shoulder as he looked at his wife with a look of horror.

“Taste it.” He pleaded.

You sat yourself down on one of the makeshift dining table chairs, looking on with an expression of fond amusement.

Gina took a spoon and tasted the thick looking gravy. She looked at him in confusion.

“It tastes just as it should. What are you talking about?”

The husband and wife looked at each other for a moment. Then, Gina sighed.

“Sweetheart, which spoon did you use to taste it?”

Mino picked up the spoon which was lying near the purple pot containing the wonderful smelling dish.

Suddenly, the cottage was filled with sounds of raucous laughter as Gina struggled to explain through peals of laughter.

“But that’s the sugar jar spoon. Of course it tasted sweet to you.”

The three of you burst into giggles.

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Darkness was settling upon the horizon as you set out for your own cottage from Gina’s. It was a little place your aunt had built which now had you as it’s sole occupant.

You were humming happily. The evening spent with your friends had been wonderful. Even if the meat in the hotpot was not enough for seconds, you were full just watching the people you loved eat.

The streets were quieter now with most people having gone home from their respective workplaces. As you walked, gently swinging your bag, the sound of multiple pairs of hooves startled you.

Not many people in your village had a horse, being unable to feed themselves forget livestock. And nor did your village have many visitors or passerby’s, being nestled further away from other villages.

Your roaming eyes were brought to a sudden halt as they landed upon a little sparrow, right in the middle of the road, seemingly injured.

The sound of hooves sounded closer but you could not bring yourself to look away from the injured creature. One of it’s wings was badly torn and the sweet bird could do little to get away from her vulnerable position.

Without a second thought, you walked into the middle of the road even as the upcoming visitor’s arrival seemed imminent, wind whooshing. You kneeled down upon the rocky surface and coaxed the yellow-feathered creature gently into your hands. By the time you had picked it up and begun to back away from the middle of the path, you realized that you could no more hear the pounding of the hooves. The night was deadly silent.

You looked up and your eyes clashed with a pair of dark ones.

Situated in the middle of the road was a horse taller than you, with a coat as dark as a moonless night. It rose it’s majestic head into the air, as if looking down upon you.

But what was perhaps even more majestic was it’s rider.

A tall, muscled body clothed in a loose flowing white shirt and leather riding pants. The man’s face was a contradiction. The sharp angles of his face were softened by large doe eyes and pink lips. It was unusual yet pleasant to the eye.

Woah. Handsome, you thought.

This train of thought was immediately brought to a stop as you met his eyes. They were dark, depthless and glaring at her as if you’d personally peed in his broth this morning.

You were not one for confrontations and besides, despite his gentle looking face, his features were twisted into a weird mixture of confusion and annoyance.

You quickly moved along the path to your cottage, not glancing back at the strange man who had yet to start moving again.

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The following week was a tiring one. The Spring Festival was on the horizon and many ladies had come to get their outfits ready in time. As a result, your little workshop was constantly overflowing with chatter of the village ladies. It was during one of these noisy, but frankly lively, afternoons that you learned about that stranger.

You were busy taking measurements of Mrs. Eun for her robes when you overheard Mrs. Kim, the village headman’s wife and her friends talking.

“My husband says that he is a good swordsman and an even better tracker. He offered him a cabin in our village for a week in exchange for the promise that he join our hunting party that’s supposed to go out to hunt some game right before the festival"

"Ah, sounds like a fair deal. I mean, it's so hard to trust peope these days. Can't be too sure with anyone, right?''

"Especially these passer-bys"

The ladies jumped onto another topic but there words satisfied thr curiosity within your mind : Who was that stranger and what was his purpose?

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The day of the Spring Festival finally rolled around. The entire village was bustling and filled with energy.

Sounds came from every house lining the streets as you walked to the clearing where everyone would gather. You had promised to reach there early to help Gina serve the little pies she had decided to bring for everyone.

Upon arriving at the large clearing, you looked around. Two large dining tables dominated the setting. Upon it were the foods that various generous villagers had contributed. Although sparse, the collection of foods looked appetizing to your starving body that had only consumed some potato soup with rice in the morning.

Looking around, you quickly found Gina in her white and gold robes, fluttering from one person to another, offering pies.

You walked upto her, your blue dress swaying gently. You had decided to put on your favorite blue dress with your hair falling to the middle of your back. Despite not having a mirror at your place, you had a feeling you looked pleasing to the eye.

"Hi, pea. That blue really makes you shine." You beamed at Gina for the compliment.

"Gins, you suit your robes beautifully too."

"I think it might just be due to magic of the seamstress but I'll accept your kind compliment"

People kept pouring in as the two of you took a seat on one of the tables. Gina put down the empty serving plate on a chair next to hers to save the seat for Mino who had yet to return along with the hunting party.

The festival began as Mr Kim stood beneath the giant tree that was in the middle of the clearing and sounded the traditional conch which signified the coming of spring season.

By this time, almost everyone in the village had gathered, except for the hunting party. With the bleating of the conch, the villagers started the festival with dancing and singing. A group of young kids performed a song and dance that they had prepared, eliciting coos and claps of encouragement from proud parents in the audience.

Their adorable performance was cut off with a sudden commotion. As the entire gathering looked in the direction from which the sound was coming, there emerged the much-awaited hunting party. As soon as they came into view, the entire gathering seemed to gasp in unison.

At the very front of the group of the newly arrived stood the stranger. Your eyes widened in horror as you took in his appearance. He looked wild. His black curly locks fell into his eyes and sweat rolled down his neck in droplets. Upon his dirt smeared cheekbone was an open gash, oozing blood but what made you squirm back into your chair was the large, dead fox slung upon his shoulder.

It was customary in hunting groups to have the ones who made the kill carry the dead animal. No one, for as long as you could recall, had walked into the village with their catch slung upon their shoulders. Usually it was 2 or 3 men who had killed the catch together who lugged the game back.

The entire village seemed to reach the conclusion along with you. This man had killed this large, cunning animal all alone.

But hunger for meat seemed to overpower wariness of the dangerous hunter and people crowded around him to offer their thanks.

You would have stood up to do the same but your eyes widened in horror as you realized that ever since he had arrived and even while being surrounded by a gaggle of grateful people, his dark eyes were fixed on you.

And the thing that scared you enough to keep your distance was the feeling that you were about to be his next prey.

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The orange hue of the sizzling fire seemed to cast a red glow on everyone’s faces as they gathered around to get their first bite of meat after a long winter.

The animal was skinned and the fur kept aside in a buddle for the hunter to take home. Jungkook - having overheard his name as people cozied up to him - sat next to headman Kim as the older man introduced him to various people. He was cold and aloof, speaking in short sentences and only when required. His eyes seemed as if they were a void that repelled light even as he sat the closest to the glowing orange of the fire.

You and Gina along with Mino sat quite further away from the commotion. Gina fretted over her “tired baby” Mino as you asked about the hunt.

“Oh, it was so cool. You should have seen Jungkook. Man’s as light on his feet as a fox and twice as stronger. Ah, I should have taken some tips. But he’s kind of reserved. I tried talking to him but he’s not very responsive.” Mino talked about him with a whisper of hero-worship in his voice.

“Baby, you’re just as strong, ‘kay? Now, do you want something to eat? The meat will take a while but have something else. You must be hungry.” Gina spoke as she motioned to take his plate.

“Ah, I wanted to wash my face first. Everything just feels so sticky and grimy. Might need to pay special attention to my nighttime routine to bring back my baby soft, glowing skin.” Mino joked as he stood up. You offered to help him as Gina went to the tables to get a few egg pies.

The two of you walked to a corner of the clearing where a pail of water was placed. You filled up a mug of water and poured it in Mino’s hands as he cupped them to splash some water upon his face.

Soon, a small line of the men from the hunting party had formed behind Mino, eager to wash the dirt off their hands and faces. You chatted with each one, asking after their health.

Suddenly, you were face to face with Jungkook. He towered over you, his veiny hands cupped in front of him. You poured water as he splashed his face and ran a dripping hand through his hair, pushing them back from his forehead.

You expected him to leave but he spoke.

“Not going to ask after my well-being?” You had heard his voice for the first time. It was deep and musical in it’s quality.

A dark stain of red involuntarily covered your neck and face as you realized your rudeness. He was new here and didn’t know many people and here you were, being unwelcoming. The least you could do was be friendly after he had given the entire village a reason to celebrate and appease their hunger.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m just shy around people I haven’t met before. I hope I didn’t make a bad impression. Haha” You internally facepalmed. Could you have acted more like a prepubescent teen?

“Not at all.” He replied, brown orbs fixed upon your face.

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. My name is Y/N, by the way.” You introduced yourself and gave him what you hoped was a friendly smile.

“Y/n. I’m Jungkook. So, what do you d-” He was cut off by Gina calling out your name.

You gave him an apologetic smile and walked away as Gina furiously waved you over. The entire way back, a pair of dark eyes fixed upon your back made the hair on the back of your neck stand in fear.

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The smell of the meat roasting in the herbs permeated the air. The first taste was offered to the hunter as was customary.

But then, why was he walking in your direction ?

You stood frozen in your spot as Jungkook headed over with a plate in his hands, his dark eyes fixed upon your face and a dopey grin on his lips.

Embarrassment flashed through you as people looked on in confusion. Everyone’s eyes were fixed upon the two of you as he stood in front of you and extended the plate in your direction wordlessly.

What was he doing?!, you thought.

This was horrifying for the reason that what he was doing was considered to be an extremely intimate act. The act of feeding someone publicly was only done amongst married couples and sometimes not even then. Did he not understand the kind of rumors people would make up about them?

To make matters even worse, his eyes only got darker the longer I stood there unresponsively.

Unable to cope with so many judging stares, I did what I usually did.

I ran.

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The next week was unbearable. Ever since that evening at the festival, all kinds of rumors circulated around the village. And Jungkook? He only fed fuel to the fire of the overactive imaginations.

Two days after the festival, you found a bundle of fox fur blanket laying on your porch with a note atop it.

Despite knowing that there was only one owner of fox fur in the village currently, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Surely, he would know what all this meant?

You picked up the note. It read,

“To Y/n,

My sweet bird,

Hope you like this. Soon, you won’t even need this really as I will be there to warm you whenever you get cold. But until we can be one, think of me as you go to sleep with this blanket every night.

Yours eternally,

Jungkook”

You were infuriated. Was he trying to embarrass or humiliate you?

All these acts were a part of the process of Courting. But this was a gross and poor imitation of the sacred process. The process of Courting only begun once both the parties had consented and taken the blessings of the village headman. This was not Courting! You had not consented to this. Heck, you didn’t even know him. you had hardly spoken two words to him!

You wanted to clear the situation before it got too out of hand.

You picked up the blanket and walked over to Gina’s place.

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You knocked upon the door. It opened to reveal a frowning Gina who widened her eyes at your surprise arrival. You walked into the cottage with her trailing behind you. You intended to gather both Gina and Mino to tell them about this situation you found yourself into.

As you walked in, you heard the sound of chatter. Standing upon the threshold of the living room, you saw the culprit in this situation having a jolly conversation with Mino.

Jungkook sat on the dining table, his frame a bit too big for the dainty chairs and nursing a cup of what you assumed was Gina’s favored chamomile tea.

You walked in and slammed the blanket upon the table, rattling the teacups.

“What is the meaning of all this?” You shouted.

All at once, the sounds began.

“I knew something was wrong. My-”

“Y/n, Jungkook is here to-”

“-bestfriend wouldn’t begin Courting without at least telling me first.”

“-tell us about your Courting.”

While Gina and Mino’s voice blended into one, you looked into Jungkook’s eyes. His amused eyes were looking at you. He suddenly stood up.

“I’m glad you’re here. We should inform your bestfriends, right?” You gave him a look of absolute befuddlement.

“What the heck are you on about?”

“You really wound me, sweetheart. About our Courting, of course. And don’t you worry about anything. I’ve taken Mr Kim’s blessings already. I will also shift all my stuff here as soon as possible since I know you wouldn’t want to move away from here, right?” He gave you an angelic smile as he explained his delusional ideas to you.

Gina interrupted before you could.

“Listen Jungkook. Maybe we can talk about this. There’s clearly been some misunderstanding. Y/n never consented to the Courting.” You nodded.

His eyes flashed.

“Do not interfere in our matters. Just because I gave you two buffoons some regard does not mean that you can come between us, do you understand me?!” He thundered.

“STOP IT. Stop it. Please.” You broke down. You had never asked for all this. You never dared dream of some fairytale romance but you at least deserved to be with someone you actually wanted, right?

Sadness took over his features. He rushed to your side and kneeled near your chair. With glossy eyes, he whispered,

“Stop what, sweet bird? Do you not understand that we should be together? What will make you understand? Will you see our love clearly when your village dies of starvation in front of your eyes? Hmm? You know that I can provide not only for you but also the people you care about. Is it clear to you now?” You kept sobbing and refused to look at him.

“Hmm no? Well.”

There was suddenly a loud crash. The teacup which was previously filled with tea was now shattered upon the floor.

A scream of absolute terror left your mouth as you realized that the biggest piece was in his hand.

“Oh no no, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He cooed as you felt a drop of blood hit your foot.

He had sliced his arm. Gina, crying, tried to make way to you but Mino held her back as Jungkook pointed the sharp piece at her.

“Look here, sweet bird. The only chance for your village to survive is slipping out of your hands. One more cut-” He pointed it at his wrist “-and you will be responsible for not just one but multiple, slow, starving deaths. Are you ready for that?”

Your fate was sealed.

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“That’s a sweet bird. Now, say, would you want a summer wedding or a fall one?”

#yandere #bts #bts au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere jk #bts fic

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severalforraelee · 3 years

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Positive Part 4: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Photo Credits: TheCinemaholic

Word count: 1185

Written by Raelee

Forgotten to mention that this fanfiction will be loosely based off of the TV show’s plot and timeline. Honestly, my memory is weird as it will allow me to remember certain lines but not the scenes as a whole, if that makes sense. Like, for example, in this chapter I remembered the “The one time we need the gun you don’t have it” line but I can’t remember how they ended up at the lighthouse lol. Anyways, so basically what I’m trying to say is that this story will somewhat follow the plot of the show but I’m also adding in the baby element and some situations will be different.

Taglist: @mrs--barnes @cooper8224 @lieswithoutfairytales @asimpwriter @hopebaker @rafeseggplant @fredsandlokiswhore

Masterlist

Outerbanks Masterlist

Positive Masterlist

“This compass is cursed, guys, I’m telling you,” John B paces the room back and forth, the mentioned compass in his hand.

Kie and I exchange a glance, both thinking the same thing. John B isn’t obsessed with the compass, he’s obsessed with the idea that his father is still alive. I understand that it was hard for him to accept when he was first told that Big John died, it was hard for me to accept when my dad left, but it’s been months now.

The sound of a car door slamming gets my attention and I look out the window, noticing a big truck outside of the Chateau and two familiar looking guys getting out of the vehicle. I furrow my eyebrows, trying to figure out where I recognize them from. It clicks in my brain and my eyes widen.

“Guys, guys,” I stop an argument between the four of them. As amusing as it is to watch, we really don’t have time to fight right now. “The guys that chased us on the boat are here.”

“What?”

“Are you serious?”

They peer out the window, noticing the same thing that I noticed. Pope immediately closes the door and the boys begin to barricade it.

“Where’s the gun?” Kie asks JJ.

“Uh, in my backpack,” he answers.

“And where’s your backpack?”

“On the porch.”

“Are you serious? The one time we need the gun, you don’t have the gun?”

They begin to fight in whispered voices as I turn to John B. “Do the windows open?”

He tries to pull one up, stopping in frustration. “No. They’re painted shut.”

“Oh my god, we’re dead,” I twirl around in anxiety. The men banging on the other side of the door and the shouts that follow snap me out of my panic. They somehow manage to get the door open but the five of us escape, evading them by hiding in the chicken coop.

The men leave with several folders from Big John’s office. I can tell by the look on John B’s face that it hurts to see that. All of his dad’s hard work going to some people who we know won’t do good with it.

“We need to find out more about this compass,” he declares.

We end up at the lighthouse where Kiara and John B go inside to speak to someone about the device and JJ, Pope, and I stand watch.

I lean against the fence, spacing out and thinking about what’s going on inside the lighthouse. I wonder who they’re talking to and what he’s telling them.

“So, you’re not going to be one of those women with weird cravings, right? Like peanut butter and pickles? ‘Cause that shit’s weird,” JJ chuckles, taking a hit from his vape.

I stare at him, wondering what even goes on inside his brain sometimes.

“She can’t help her cravings,” Pope informs him, giving him just as weird of a look as I am.

“Yeah, but would you eat a weird combination like that?”

“I mean, if the baby wants it, then I’m going to eat it,” I tell him slowly.

“Oh so you’re going to be the type of mom to give their child anything they want?”

I open my mouth, ready to argue with him, when the sound of sirens comes closer and closer.

“Oh shit,” JJ curses, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the lighthouse.

We run as fast as we can, weaving through the woods so that the police cars can’t follow us. We arrive at the Chateau, seeing Pope already there.

“Where’s John B and Kie?” JJ asks him.

“Kie just called me and told me that they caught John B and he’s in jail,” Pope states, clearly in distress.

“The compass?”

“He gave it to her before they put him in the cop car.”

I sigh in relief, knowing that if anything happened to that compass, John B would not be able to forgive himself.

“I’m going to go back to my house and get some money for JB’s bail,” I declare, stepping out the front door.

“No, Y/N, you need that money for the baby. We’ll figure out another way to get him out,” Pope pleads.

“I’m not having the baby for a while yet, Pope. JB needs us now.” I leave before they can say anything else to me.

It hurts having to use money that I so desperately need. I really was banking on this money getting me through doctors appointments and the bare necessities for the baby, at least until I could figure out another way to earn some money while pregnant.

But John B’s one of my best friends, and I know that he needs this money more than I do right now.

I’m pedaling as fast as possible on my bike to my house. My legs are burning, bugs are flying in my face, and I feel like I can barely breathe but I only have one goal on my mind. To get that money for John B.

I barely notice it when a car pulls up alongside me. Until Rafe calls my name.

“Y/N.”

My raggedy old shoes slam into the ground, bringing my bike to a hard stop. I turn to look through Rafe’s rolled down Range Rover window, a hard expression on my face.

“What do you want, Rafe?”

For once, he doesn’t look coked-out or cocky. He looks sincere. Genuine.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” I want to cross my arms, but instead I tighten my grip on the handlebars.

“Okay, then let me speak.” He leans out the window and I stare at him through my sunglasses, curious of what he has to say but also not wanting to hear it. “I want to be in this baby’s life.”

I scoff. “Rafe, you’re always drinking, snorting cocaine, or, I don’t know, beating the shit out of my friends. How do I know you won’t do the same to this baby?”

His face darkens at my question. “Because I won’t.”

“Yeah, I believe that,” I reply sarcastically, starting to pedal again.

He drives along with me slowly. “Fine, you want to do this the hard way? We can do this the hard way then, sweetheart. I can make your life hell.”

“Please, having your baby is already hell,” I toss back, using the insult as a way to disguise the fear I feel from his threat.

The truth is, I know what could come from this situation. Rafe comes from a wealthy, put-together family. He has a kind dad, a caring stepmom, and two sisters who would jump at the chance to take care of a baby.

Meanwhile, my dad ran off so now my mom spends most of her time at the bar, meaning I spend the majority of my days with my friends. I’m not stupid. I know that if Rafe were to bring me to court, I would be screwed. But if I act tough, maybe I’ll start to feel like it, too.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #sfrpositive

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matsbarzal · 3 years

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may I please request song prompt #3 "i'd do whatever she likes, give her christmas in july" - anything she says (mitchell tenpenny) with Brock Boeser?

song #3. i'd do whatever she likes; give her christmas in july

pairing: brock boeser x reader word count: 1k warnings: mentions of christmas celebrations, mentions of COVID

If there was one person who knew their love language better than anyone, it was Brock. It was one of the perks of dating the man dubbed ‘Mr. Sensitive’, because although, yes, he did have his moments of sensitivity... sometimes worse than others, the majority of his time was spent trying to demonstrate ways in which he loved you unconditionally.

He knew it was hard dating a hockey player, let alone a professional, especially in the middle of the pandemic. Trying to maneuver your relationship around the alterations to the season, the outbreaks in Vancouver, the distance between the two of you and the lack of being able to visit… Brock knew it was hard, but he did everything in his power to try and combat that.

This year had been the hardest, Brock having to go back to Vancouver mid-December, missing not only Christmas but New Years with you and his family. The travel restrictions and border closures making it impossible for you to cross and visit your boyfriend for short increments of time without having to quarantine for 14 days both times. It just wasn’t feasible.

He was heartbroken having to miss out on Christmas with you and his family, the Zoom celebration you did not even up to the caliber of what you all were used to.

The blonde had promised he’d make it up to you, citing that he wouldn’t let his job get in the way of the both of you celebrating his favourite holiday at some point in the year. You had basically forgotten about it months later, not even letting the thought cross your mind.

be ready to go by 9am, big day ahead babe

what

you’ll see tomorrow morning, can’t wait!!! love you!!!

The morning came sooner than you were expecting, your body weaved into clothes perfect for the July heat in Minnesota. Your pointer finger tapped against your phone as you sat on your porch, watching as Brock’s Jeep pulled its way down your street.

Hopping out of the Jeep, you felt the confusion instantly hit when you observed the blonde’s outfit. Brock was never one to not go out of the house in a lazy outfit, but pyjamas? Christmas pyjamas? That was another story. The tiny elves littered your boyfriend’s red and green pants and shirt, the red sleeves pushed up to his elbows as a large grin took over his face.

“You gotta change before we go, here! They match,” shooting him a questioning look as he shoved the rolled-up clothes into your hand and pressed a smooth kiss to your lips. You obliged, making your way back inside and to the bathroom. Changing quickly, you couldn’t help the small giggle that fell from your lips at the matching pyjamas when you found yourself wrapped in his passenger seat.

“Plan on telling me what’s going on?”

Grinning, Brock squeezed your thigh gently as he zipped out of your driveway. “You’ll see when we get back to my apartment, you’re gonna love it.”

His apartment wasn’t far, Brock always making you let him pick you up so that he could spend as much time with you as possible; also, because you were always more likely to stay over if he was the one driving. He pulled into his parking spot, hopping out of the car to meet you around the passenger side, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tucked your body into his, his lips gently pressing to yours with a small smile.

Pressing your lips back, you own arms weaved themselves around his hips to press on the muscles of his back, pulling him closer to you. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before he was grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the entrance.

Following him, the halls were empty as they always were this early in the morning on a Thursday. You could hear the low sounds of music, the beat so soft and airy you couldn’t place an exact name to the song. The closer and closer you got to Brock’s door, the louder the song became.

“Okay, you have to close your eyes!” quirking an eyebrow up at him, you almost shook your head but before you had the chance, his one palm was covering your eyes as the other turned the doorknob to his apartment door. The sound of music filled the air, the smell of fresh-cooked gingerbread cookies hitting your nose as it wafted out of the room.

Walking forward with you gently, Brock moved his palm from your eyes and allowed you to take in the sight in front of you. You could feel the wonder and joy cross your mind almost immediately, your eyes focusing on every aspect of the room they could.

The tree was in the corner, decorated to the nines in all of yours and Brock’s favourite ornaments, the star on top glistening back at you. The tinsel was wrapped all around his kitchen island and the stools, the gingerbread were laid out on the Christmas plates his parents had got him last year as a moving-out present, the milk beside an extra addition.

You couldn’t hold in the look of awe that was erupting on your face as you looked around, your eyes moving to the joyful smile present on Brock’s face as he watched you.

“Do you like it?” you could sense the bit of doubt in his words, his need for affirmation pushing you to move yourself closer to him, almost launching yourself on him as you pressed your lips against his.

Nodding eagerly as you pulled away, a laugh bubbled up from his throat as the both of you looked around. “I told you I’d make it up to you, having to miss Christmas back in December. I have the movies all set up, I have all the snacks and the drinks and even went out and bought your favourite hot chocolate. There’s a significant chance our dinner may be being catered… but we don’t have to talk about that.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this,” shaking your head in disbelief as you looked around again, your eyes taking in all the sights it hadn’t registered before.

“I’d do whatever you like, even give you Christmas in July, my love.”

note: ahhhh skfdk i had so much fun with this bc i so want brock to give me christmas in july </3 thank you for requesting, and i hope you enjoy!!!

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

In his eyes IV (Pero Blacksmith AU)

Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Part 3 here / Masterlist here under Pero / epilogue

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), squirting, unprotected penetrative sex

Summary: the final two days with Pero while your father is away have you confronting what life will be like when your father returns.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: So this is the last full chapter! I will be posting an epilogue of where Pero and the bakers daughter’s life goes but I had so much fun writing for Pero and thank you for everyone’s lovely comments :) I enjoyed it so much I have planned a second Royal Reader x Guard! Pero series but want to take some time to plan it out properly before posting!

Day Four

The sun poured in through the window, casting a warm light over your back where the bed sheets had fallen off. Slowly letting your body wake to the world you kept your eyes closed as you listened to the birds that chirped from a nearby tree and the stream that ran by the back of your river. The weight that was holding you down began to shift on your back.

Pero’s hand had been taking up the most part of your back, holding you tight to his chest throughout the night. He was still asleep, only just, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest in time with his heartbeat that tapped against your cheek. Your bare skin was moulding against one another with every empty curve of yours being filled by him. You tilted your head up to take in his sleeping form, a lot more relaxed than you had ever seen him. His sharp jaw was within reach for your lips and so you shifted your body up to place a gentle kiss between his ear and jaw.

One of his eyes opened, looking down at you before he closed it again and pulled you tighter against his chest as he sighed contently.

“Good morning,” you whispered against his skin.

He hummed back, his fingertips now dragging up and down your back as he started to wake.

“Pero,” you whispered, waiting until his eyes opened again before you continued, “I have to work the market today.”

“Soon,” he grumbled before moving so your body was fully on top of his, your head resting on his stomach with your legs in the space between his.

His hands continued in their movement up and down against your back. His fingertips were rough, years of being weathered by labour and the harsh weather, but their movements were gentle as if he was handling the most delicate glass. You stayed against his warmth for a while longer, listening to his heartbeat that stayed as calm as it was while asleep, before finally pulling yourself from him to sit back on your heels, kneeling between his legs.

Looking down at him you finally got to take in his body under the light of the morning sun. Reaching out, you traced over the marks and scars that had stayed hidden under the dim candle light the night before. He was strong, covered in tales of his travels, but softer in age. Your hands continued tracing his skin as he watched your carefully, shifting his head on the pillow to fully take in the sight before him.

Pero could count on one hand the amount of times he woke up next to a woman but he had never woken up and been treated so carefully. The woman in front of him treated him as gently as she looked. Her eyes were never filled with even the smallest hint of fear when she looked at him, only care.

You looked up at him, smiling while your eyes were still half asleep. Your hands were lazy, eventually finding their way to his thighs and trailing across his hip bones. He couldn’t stop the shiver that made its way down his body as you did so.

Despite being completely bare in front of him in a way no one had ever seen you before, you felt no need to cover yourself. When your hands reached his middle you finally stopped before letting your fingers drag down his cock gently. The night before had been beautiful but you wanted him to teach you more. Teach him how to make him feel good.

His cock began to harden but his hands reached for your wrists to gently grab them and pull you down towards him.

“If you don’t stop we will never make it to the market,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you, “later.”

You pulled back and nodded before climbing from the bed. When you stood you realised the ache between your legs, wincing slightly as you reached for your clothes for the day.

Pero stood quickly, grasping your elbow, “I wasn’t too rough last night was I?”

“No,” you turned to place your hand on his chest, “you were perfect.”

Standing on your toes, you placed a kiss to his cheek before walking out of the room to get ready for the day. By the time you were ready, Pero was already downstairs with two bowls of porridge laid out for you. You eat quickly, wishing you had woke up with more time to spare to enjoy this domestic moment.

Pero washed the bowls as you filled the baskets for the markets, making sure you had all the breads and pastries to sell today. Once they were ready Pero had lifted them before you could, leaving you with only the spare coins to carry for the day.

“Would- would you like some help today?” Pero’s voice came from beside you as you left the house.

“Are you sure?” you double checked you had everything before leaving the garden, “I do not want to make you work on one of your days off.”

“I am sure, it also means I get to spend more of today with you,” he winked, opening the gate.

The market was busying as you arrived, Pero watching while you set up the stall how he had seen you do so many times before as he approached the market as a customer. He stayed by your side throughout the day, helping to wrap pastries for customers.

You laughed as he served one, listening to his gruff tone as he spoke and realising why he worked in a role that did not require as much people skills. Throughout the day you would feel his hand rest on your back as he moved by you to place coins in the bag at your side, his gentle touch reminding you of his hands on your skin the night before.

As the morning went on the market grew quieter until there were only a few customers left roaming by early afternoon. You took the time to count the coins made for the day before packing up but the sound of voices behind you caused you to lose count. Turning around you found Pero, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed over one another and arms across his chest as he spoke to two of the village children.

They were small boys, one with a ball tucked under his arm that he had forgotten about as they both listened to Pero with wide eyes. You couldn’t hear what Pero was saying, only noticing the soft and playful tone of his voice. Whatever was said caused the two boys to laugh, turning wide eyed to one another

The smile on Pero’s face was wide, mirroring the child-like nature of the boys in front of him. This was the Pero you had grown to know, gentle and caring and not as intimidating as the villagers first thought he was. He looked up, his eyes finding yours, before nodding towards the market and kicking off the wall. The boys followed excitedly behind him, their smiles growing wider as Pero took two coins from his pocket and placing them by the pile you were carrying. He lifted the last two sweet, sugar covered pastries before handing one to each of the boys.

“Do not eat until you are home and until your mother lets you,” he playful warned as he wagged a finger at them.

The boys cheered out a thank you, Mr Pero as they skipped off down the street with pastries in hand. Your eyes stayed on Pero as he watched them weave through the markets, noticing the slight wrinkles that pulled at the side of his eyes as he smiled.

“Cute kids,” you laughed while turning back to tidy up the rest of the stall for the day.

“Rascals,” he smiled turning back to you.

“I didn’t know you were good with children?” you half-asked as you handed him the empty baskets. Pero shrugged, taking them in his hands and waiting for you to collect the coins and lead the way back to the forest.

You felt lighter than you had in the longest time, walking back to your home that you had spent the night in with the man beside you the night before. Around half way back, raindrops began to fall from the gaps between the leaves. It was light enough not to change the pace of your steps but Pero still took the coins from your hand and placed them in the safety of his pocket.

A moment later, the rain started to fall in lashes. Pero reached for your hand and ran down the path, keeping you close to follow behind. You laughed and Pero cheered as your feet were hitting the quickly filling puddles, your feet hitting the ground faster than they had since you were a young child.

When you finally reached the house, Pero pushed the door open to usher you inside and close it quickly behind. You were both soaked through to the bone as moved around the table to start the fire.

“You should take your clothes off, I’ll see if I can find you something else,” you called over your shoulder to Pero who stood close to the door.

He stood for a moment before nodding and reaching for the string at the back of the tunic. You let him undress as you left the room and headed to your room. Once you were changed into a dry night dress, deciding to stay comfortable for the rest of today, you searched and finally found a tunic for Pero.

When you walked back to Pero he was waiting for you by the fire. His skin was covered in a red and orange light, illuminating his back muscles that moved as he stretched his neck. You called his name, handing him the tunic as he turned around.

The room was already heating up and you took your wet clothes to place over the fire while Pero pulled the tunic over his head. Moving to the couch behind you, you pulled a knitted blanket over you and held it open for Pero to join.

“Thank you for helping today, Pero,” you turned to face him.

His eyes were dark but under the light of the fire you noticed the golden specs that were within. The house was filled with the noise of rain hitting against the house, a comfortable loudness that made you feel safe in here, with him.

“It was my pleasure,” he hummed in response.

“My father will be back tomorrow,” you turned to face the fire and you felt Pero nod in response, “I have enjoyed your company Pero,” you felt yourself trail off as you remained unsure about what your father’s return would mean.

“I have enjoyed yours, more than any other before,” he admits, his hand reaching up you tilt your head towards him, “I- I feel at home with you, more at home than I have felt since I was a child.”

“I don’t want this to end, Pero,” you whispered.

His hand moved up from your chin, tracing down your nose and jaw before stopping at your collarbone and letting his fingers drag along there.

“Nor do I.”

You couldn’t stop the gasp that left your lips as he touched you so delicately, your own hand moving to cover his. He paused for a moment, thinking you were wanting him to stop, but you instead guided his hand lower to cup your breast, squeezing over his hand. He leaned forward as his hand squeezed before taking your nipple between his fingers and pinching, taking your lips in a breathtaking kiss as he pushed your body back against the couch and hovered over you.

“Pero, please,” you sighed as you turned your head, letting him kiss down your neck while arching your back into his touch.

He kept one hand balancing by your head as the other trailed down your body, lifting your night dress up and squeezing up your thigh. His hand reached your middle, growling as his fingers moved up your folds.

“So wet for me already?”

“Please, Pero. I- I won’t break,” you moaned, wanting to feel every inch of him on you and not as gentle as the night before.

He sat back on his heels, looking down at you from above. His eyes moved down to your soaked cunt and watched desperately as he pushed two fingers inside. He waited for a moment, still taking care that you were okay, but upon seeing pure pleasure on your face he began pulling them out and pushing them back in again at an excruciatingly slow pace. He bit his lip as he watched your tight walls pull his fingers back in again, mesmorised by you.

“M-more, Pero,” you begged while rocking your hips into his hand and he smirked.

He started moving his fingers faster and faster as he watched your back arch into his touch and his thumb came up to rub over your clit.

“Feels- feels so good,” your hands pulled at your dress as your mind was clouded by pure pleasure.

“So good for me, I could watch you like this all the time,” he moaned, “let go, you can do it,” he coaxed.

Your hand reached for his wrist, holding on as his fingers moved relentlessly against you and when his fingers curled the wave suddenly crashed over you.

You forced your eyes to stay open as you looked down, seeing a gush of your wetness soak Pero’s arm and tunic. Suddenly all you could see was white, your head falling back against the pillow behind you and feeling your body go limp. The ringing in your ears was loud and by the time you finally came to all you could hear was your own moan of Pero’s name and his growling from above.

“I’ve got you, good girl, I’ve got you,” he moaned as he slowed his movements before removing his fingers from you.

When you looked up, Pero’s eyes were darker than usual; full of neediness. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he balanced his soaked hand on your knee.

“I- I-,” you couldn’t find the words, still trying to focus.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he pulled the wet tunic over his head and leaned down kissing you gently, before squeezing himself between you and the back of the couch.

He curled his body into yours, his hardness pressing into your side as he ran his fingers over your skin.

“How was that?” he whispered in your ear, watching the goosebumps that followed.

“Amazing,” you sighed turning to him.

“Good,” he smirked.

You reached your hand down, wrapping your hand around his length and looking up at him. “I want to make you feel good, Pero. Show me how,” you purred and he groaned in response.

“Tell me how you want to make me feel good, with your pretty mouth,” he leaned over you to kiss your lips once, “or with your soft hands,” he reached for your hand, taking it in his and kissing your knuckles while his eyes stayed on yours.

“My mouth. I want to taste you, Pero,” you sat up.

His lips founds yours once again as his hand made its way into the back of your head, needier as he sat up and pulled you closer against him. He re-positioned your bodies so he was now lying on his back and you were straddling his lap. You dragged your lips away from his and began to kiss down his cheek and jaw, sucking on his neck slightly and grinning against his skin as he moaned, before kissing down the bare skin of his chest. You had sure to move down so to kiss each scar you could find. His hands held the side of your face as you did so, his mouth open wide as he watched how gently you treated his body.

He was already hard, his cock flat against his stomach and leaking by the time you reached it. When you settled between his legs you kissed down his length, letting your tongue drag down it.

You stopped, looking back up at Pero suddenly embarrassed to ask him what to do but he stopped you with a nod.

“Open that pretty mouth for me,” he instructed gently.

You did so and with his hands in your hair he guided your over his cock that he held by the base. You kept your eyes on his as you took him in your mouth, listening to the gasp that left his mouth as you did so.

“There you go. Just take what you can, watch your teeth,” his tone was gentle, guiding, no hint of judgement or patronising you.

Your mouth bobbed up and down his length taking more each time. Your other hand gripped at his base, moving in time with your mouth to take the rest that you could not take. Your free hand was on his thigh, gripping whenever you felt as though you were about to gag.

‘Th- feels so good,” he moaned, his hands moving to cup your cheek and base of your neck as he helped guide your movements.

His head hit back against the pillow, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open and on you as you look up at him. You looked so perfect with your mouth on his cock and eyes looking up at him to watch his reactions to your movements. It was taking all his power not to cum there and then so after a few moments he gently lifted you from him and pulled you up for a kiss.

“Was- was that okay?” you asked as you pulled away.

“Perfect, my love, but I want to be inside you before I let myself go,” he turned your head to kiss down your neck, “turn around for me? On your hands and knees?”

He waited to gauge your reaction to his request and upon seeing your eyes light up as you bite at your lip and nod he began to move. He held your hips gently as you move like he says, turning away from him as he also moves up to his knees. He held you against his chest for a moment, kissing down your neck while pulling your dress over your head before letting you lean forward on your elbows. You looked back over your shoulder as he lines himself up at your entrance. He forces his eyes closed, unable to look at you or he knows he wont last long.

He guides himself in and your moans fill the room as you struggle to keep your weight up. One of his hands holds onto your hip to keep you steady while the other moves round to your clit, wanting you to cum one more time. The sound of his skin slapping against yours makes you moan more, your arms shaking while trying to hold your weight up.

As his fingers move against your clit you can’t help but move your hips back against him, listening to his moans as you do so spurring you on and you keep your hips moving in that rhythm. Both you movements became sloppy and by the time you came Pero’s body was covering yours. His hand was now by your head with his fingers locked with yours while his chest pressed onto your back.

You could feel his breath on the back of your neck get heavier and heavier until he pulled from you and you felt him cover your back with his seed, grunting and holding onto your hand tight as your name fell from his lips.

You stayed in that position as he gently cleaned you before he pulled you back to lie with him on the couch, your back pressed against his chest. He pulled a blanket over you both and his hand started to run up and down your arm before wrapping around your waist.

You turned your head into the pillow as he kissed gently down your neck before moving round to face him.

Your breaths were hot on one another’s face for a moment before he cupped your cheek and whispered your name.

“You are beautiful, so beautiful. I wish to make you smile every day and wash away the tears on the days you are sad. I love you, all of you with all of me,” he whispered against your lips.

“Pero, I- I love you, all of you with all of me,” you mirrored his words, “I do not want this to end.”

“It wont, my love,” he promised, “leave it with me.”

You nodded before kissing him gently. Your head buried into his chest and he pulled you against him, letting his fingers trail up and down your back. The rain was still loud as it crashed against the side of the house, the fire burning enough to heat you both as you fell asleep.

Day Five

The rain had stopped later on the night before while you and Pero eat dinner in front of the fire. He held you in his arms as you fell asleep for another night, this time curled up against one another on the couch.

This morning you stretched out on the couch as you woke up to another day, letting the tingle run down your spine before opening your eyes. The only heat you could feel now was the sun streaming into the room and when you realised he was no longer behind you on the couch your eyes searched the room for Pero. There was no sign of him, only a fresh set of clothes on the table by your side so you got changed before deciding to look for him.

When you reached the kitchen, you noticed the stove was on with porridge bubbling away in a pot but there is still no sign of Pero. You gave the contents a stir before you heard the door open and clang of a bucket full of water being set down on the table behind you.

“Good morning, sleep well?” Pero asked as he walked up behind you.

You hummed and turned to face him,“did you?”

Pero nodded before placing a hand on your hip from behind as you ladled some porridge into two bowls and kissed the side of your cheek. You motioned to the table and Pero pulled out a chair for you to sit at before sitting round at the other side. Breakfast was quiet as you both still woke up to the day and you did not talk again until you stood to wash the dishes.

You eat breakfast in silence, both still waking up to the day.

“Have you missed your father?” he asked as you dried the bowl he handed you.

“I have, but I have had a wonderful time with you,” you bump his arm with your elbow and he chuckles, “I should go to the market today.”

“I can help.”

You nodded and moved around the kitchen to look out your coin and baskets for the market while Pero tidied up the living room and kitchen for your father coming home.

“Do you want to talk the longer walk to the market today, by the stream?” you asked as you tied your coins to the side of your skirts.

“Yes, that sounds nice,” Pero responded as he reached for his boots.

“We can leave in a while, I’d like to enjoy the sun for now,” you reached for his hand to walk into the garden.

Pero followed, sitting beside you and resting back on his hands before you moved so your head was now resting on his lap. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the sun as you pulled a flower out of the ground and twirled it in between your fingers. You reached up, placing it behind his ear and tilting his head down towards you. His face was as calm as it had been the first morning you woke next to him.

“Pretty boy,” you whispered.

Pero reached over you and pulled another from the ground placing it behind your ear.

“Pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you softly.

You stayed like that for a while, your head on Pero’s lap as one of his hands held him up while the other rubbed gently up and down your clothed stomach. Noticing the sun reaching mid-sky you finally stood, stretching out in the sun, before pulling Pero up to join you.

The stream travels by the bottom of your garden, flowing down and by the village. It was a little deeper than it normally is because of the rain the night before but still only just below the knee height and so when you guided Pero towards it you took off your shoes lifted up your dress to walk through the water.

You held out your hand, waiting for Pero to roll his trousers and take of his own boots to join you. You both walked hand in hand down the river, occasionally pulling the other closer to bump shoulders or kiss slightly. You knew in your chest that you had fallen head over heels for the man beside you. You knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life by his side.

As you neared the village, Pero walked with you out of the water, helping you up the embankment. When you reached the top he took your shoes from your hands, kneeling on the ground to slip them onto your feet before putting his own shoes on.

The trip to the market was quick, gathering milk, meats and vegetables for your father returning. For every item you lifted and paid for Pero was quick to take them from you and carry them. For all Pero did not talk that much, he showed you every moment of every day that he meant those three words he whispered the night before. You were fine with that, feeling the constant warmth that loomed over you from him as he watched every movement of yours with care.

He continued to carry the food as he walked you home. You could feel his eyes on yours but whenever you turned to look at him his eyes moved forward. While he wasn’t what you called confident, his people skills getting in the way of that, he wasn’t shy either and you began to wonder what had him so nervous in this moment. Before you could question him you heard your name called by your father. You looked up to see your father standing in the garden, waving towards you.

“Papa!” you shouted before running towards your father, swinging the gate open and hugging him.

“More beautiful every day,” he pulled you away to look at you, “ah, Mr Tovar,” your father reached to shake Pero’s free hand.

“I hope your trip was well,” Pero shook his hand back, still avoiding your eyes.

“Well, looks like my daughter got enough from the market, will you stay for dinner?”

“I-I do not want to intrude-“

‘Nonsense, a thank you for taking such good care of my daughter this week.”

You and Pero could not hide your blushing cheeks and were glad for your father to lead you both inside. Pero walked next to your father as they spoke about his journey back before Pero began to help your father lifting out the food from the market from the basket.

“It’s a beautiful day, go sit in the sun while I prepare dinner,” your father shooed you out, “Mr Tovar will be out soon.”

There was a hint of something in your father’s eyes that you could not place and you looked back at Pero but as he nodded you moved into the garden.

Sitting on the grass you began to think about these past five days with Pero. You had fell into a routine with him, the past few days where you woke up and fell asleep next to him feeling more comfortable than any before. You didn’t know what would happen now, whether you would see him every Monday for checkers and serve him his bread when he came to the bakers. You were so lost in your thoughts as you stared out into the forest that you did not hear the door open or notice Pero’s footsteps until his weight sat next to you.

“I spoke to your Father,” he looked out to the field as you dragged a flower across the grass.

“What did you say?” you kept your eyes forward as well.

The minute that took him to reply felt like an eternity, the birds seemingly stalling overhead as their songs slowed. Pero’s hand reached for yours between your bodies, interlocking his fingers with yours.

“That I care for his daughter and I love her, and I believe she cares for me too,” he turned to face you.

“I believe she also loves you,” you teased as you faced him.

“He told me I would be a silly man to let that go,” his hand squeezed yours gently.

“Then don’t. Don’t let it go,” you whispered back as you shuffled closer to him.

“Marry me then? Your father told me about the spare land he owns near here, it is still in the forest and I can build our own house there. I can wake up to you each morning and love you each night. We can live as husband and wife and raise our own family… if that is what you want, my love.”

The tears that were pooling at the corner of your eye from his first two words were spilling down your cheeks by the time he took in a shaky breath at the end. He reached to wipe them away and you moved into his touch, laughing as the smile on your face was so wide it hurt your cheeks.

“I love you Pero, I would be honoured to be your wife,” you sighed contently and he finally let his own smile cover his face.

You hadn’t let yourself think about your life with Pero yet, not wanting to be hurt by whatever happened when your father returned, but with the few sentences he had spoke a moment before you realised your own dream. A life with Pero, starting a family and living in the forest well… there was no other future you would want than that with the man in front of you, holding your face gently as he promised to love you for the rest of his life.

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl

Pero tag // @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear @artsymaddie @ajeff855 @strangelittlenobody @elegantduckturtle @roxypeanut @shedobeclownin

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fanfic #headcannon #oneshot #the great wall

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years

Text

Made To Break

Part two.

Warning: noncon/dubcon sex, yandere, talk of death. No beta. Read at your own risk.

Note: never wrote something like this before. Hope it was worth wait. Let me know if you like it! Enjoy!

Time dragged on, especially without your phone. You watched the clock, not able to pay attention to anything else.

The house felt different without the god inside. Your gut had been right the first night, he had been here the whole time.

You still regretted returning Hypnos his cloak, it was the only thing keeping you warm in the drafty house.

You debated trying to escape but you held off. Where would you even go? There was no one else who could help. Even if Hypnos was keeping you trapped, he could be the key to getting your dad back.

Also you're pretty sure Hypnos would follow you to the end of the world and then some.

Maybe if you just play along for now, you could show him the truth later when the spell doesn't work on you and he would be forced to admit you weren't the one he was looking for.

"Just one more day." You told yourself.

That's what Hypnos told you, "And when time gets close to twilight, make sure you are by his side." He said, locking his cloak in place.

You agreed, "Is there anything else I could do?"

Hypnos grinned, and tapped his lip, "How about a kiss good-bye?"

You rolled your eyes at him even though you were charmed by his cheekiness and shook your head. You knew that if you responded to his flirting, it would make the letdown worse.

"Oh well, can't blame a guy for trying." Hypnos said before he vanished before your eyes.

You had a sinking feeling of realizing that you wouldn't have been able to outrun him.

💮

It was in the middle of night during another round of tossing and turning when you realized something wasn't right.

There was a humming under your skin, like little jolts of energies that never stop moving.

Maybe you couldn't fall asleep due to stress or maybe you got used to Hypnos being around. He was the god of sleep, he must have played some role in helping you rest.

You crawled out of your bed and went to the window and stared out to the backyard. Little red poppies stood out from the blanket of snow, gently swaying in the wind.

Magic was real and Hypnos was as well, he felt human when you touched him. His grief when he talked about his lover sounded real. And he seemed hellbent making sure not to lose you.

Is it really that impossible that you were someone in a past life, a deity even? It sounded like something out of the fantasy books you read as a child.

You pressed your forehead against the cold glass, an welcomed sensation. You didn't want to admit it. Not to yourself at all.

But something in you has changed or is changing you just don't know what yet.

You just hope you don't lose yourself in the process.

💮

You were in line for coffee when the thought came. It was some honey glazed pastry you just happened to notice and thought 'Hypnos would love that especially with his sweet tooth.'

You froze, how in the world would you know that? You don't even know if the god could or want to eat.

You rubbed your eyes, it was the lack of sleep you told yourself.

You got to the hospital at the end of dusk, a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in hand. You took a big bite, trying to finish it before getting to the elevator.

It was early but you wanted to be here, even if Hypnos couldn't help, you wanted to at least be with your dad for what time he had left.

You slipped the coffee, grateful for the warmth. After getting in the elevator, you tabbed your foot nervously. Even the last bite of the sandwich couldn't calm your stomach.

You almost didn't see them when you stepped out, had you not glanced to the left you would have never seen them at all.

"Mrs. Johnson?" You asked, even in your anger at your ex, you still liked their mom. She mothered everyone and she always made sure to have your favorite cookies when you visited. She turned to face you, her blonde pixie hair was unkempt. Her red and puffy eyes widened in surprise. You tossed the coffee in the trash can as you made your way over.

"Oh my god, Y/N?" Mrs.Johnson sniffed, "Are you here to visit?" Even her voice sounded rough.

Your heart dropped, "For my dad, I don't know if they told you but he is in a coma right now."

"Oh honey. I'm so sorry, I didn't know." She hugged you tightly, her rose perfume was a comfortable smell in the hospital. She took your hands, her tears still flowing. You tried not to roll your eyes, of course your ex wouldn't even care enough to tell their mom, the sweetest person ever.

"Why are you here?" You asked worried for the poor woman.

"Something happened to (Ex/N), they were out partying and I don't know. Their roommate thinks they hit their head and haven't woken up since. It's the oddest thing, they couldn't even find where the brain bleed was. Or any marks." She shook her head, "it doesn't feel real."

You gasped, not able to make sense of her words. "Like they just went to sleep?" You asked, feeling like you've been dropped in ice.

She nodded, not saying anything.

"How long ago?"

"Two days or so, late during the night." She replied, she didn't notice the dread on your face. Did Hypnos use your phone? You had a feeling he was the one who took it but there was so much going on you had forgotten about it.

"Can I see them?" You asked, you need to see with your own eyes. Surely, this had to be a coincidence.

"Of course, hon."

💮

You had fully planned on never seeing your ex again. You kept meaning to block them but You weren't ready yet because you didn't want to admit you wasted your time.

You stared down at them, at the tubes, at the heart rate monitor. And You knew (Ex/N) was paying the price for your inability to block them.

You didn't love them, not in a way a person should love another you think. But you cared for them and wanted them to be happy. It wasn't until the cheating started, that it got bad.

Mrs. Johnson sat down in the chair and held their child's hand. Her face showed her heartbreak and every time there was twitch, there would be a hopeful look in her eyes only for it to die when nothing happened.

It was just like your father's coma.

You closed your eyes, anger boiling inside your chest. At yourself more so than Hypnos.

How could you been so stupid?

💮

You stared outside the window. It was the first clear day in weeks and the blue skies with the fat, lazy clouds seemed so more vivid than you remember.

Your father's heart monitor beeped steady and true. You couldn't look at him, guilt and anger was warring in your chest.

You had brought in the story Hypnos weaved for you. You didn't know how much was truth or lies. You think it was a healthy mix of both and it made it so much harder to know what really happened.

You covered your face with your hands, trying to make sure the tears didn't come out.

How could You get out of this? You saw some of Hypnos' powers, and you knew that it was the tip of the iceberg.

You couldn't stop thinking about the book, the warnings that you didn't see. This was a god that had once put the world to sleep, and you couldn't see a reason why he wouldn't again if he didn't get what he wanted.

it felt more cruel that he was playing games with your life, with all their lives. It would have been kinder to just kidnap you and leave everyone else out of it.

You looked up at the clock, just a few more hours left to go.

You really wished you brought your bat.

💮

Twilight was beautiful, even with the city skyline. You paced around the room, waiting for a change or for him to show up.

You almost didn't notice, too deep in your anger.

Your father's hand twitched, and you paused, not wanting to get your hopes up. Then his head turned to the side and you rushed to him.

"Dad! Oh my god, dad." You touched his arm gently, not wanting to spook him. His eyes opened up groggily, his head turned to you. He didn't react to seeing you but you weren't worried.

"I will be right back, I'm getting a nurse." You rushed out, giddy with relief.

💮

He doesn't remember you.

Your own father doesn't remember you.

You collapsed in the chair, the doctor tried to calm you down but you couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in your ears.

You knew. You just knew this was Hypnos' doing. Your hands tighten into shaky fists on your knees.

How fucking dare he do this. You gave him a chance and this is what he does.

Without a word, you stormed out the room.

💮

You don't remember getting in the car or the drive home. You knew Hypnos would be waiting for you.

He wasn't going to stop, you could feel in your bones. He would do to you in every single life you live and he won't care the cost it will take.

You slammed the car door shut, not brothing to hide your presence. You stood in the cold, uncaring how bitting the wind felt against your skin. Snow was still on the ground and little red poppies peeked through, bright against the snow.

Your breath came out in white puffs as you stared at your home. For all you knew this would be the last time you ever see it.

You took a deep breath, gathering what strength you had left.

It was time to face the music. To face him.

💮

You stopped in the entryway, not wanting to get closer than you had too. You could see even in the dark that the books were gone as well as the horrible eye and words. The one thing that lit the room was a single candle on the side table.

You looked at the other walls and saw pictures of you had been taken down. Fear tightened your throat and you stepped into the living room. Your eyes darted around but there was no sign of Hypnos.

You stepped into the living room and after a moment, you walked to your bedroom.

You whimpered when you opened the door. Everything was gone. The bed, the desk, all of it.

You took a step backward and another without looking away from your room.

Your heart stopped when you bumped into a warm chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly and his cheek pressed to your head.

"It's time to come home, Y/N." Hypnos said, tightening his hold to the point you couldn't breathe. Or scream as you watched the world you once knew vanished.

💮

You kicked and twisted in Hypnos' arms. "Let me go." You gasped, "I can't get air, please."

He loosened his hold but you were too busy gulping for air to care. You pushed away from and he allowed you to, unconcerned about you escaping.

You tried to steady yourself only to stumble, Hypnos grabbed your elbow.

"I'm sorry I forgot it takes some getting used to." Hypnos said. "You should have seen my brother the first few times. He used to get sick all the time."

"Don't touch me." You snapped, jerking away. You've been here before, the sound of water rushed to your ears. You turned to face him, to tear him a new one but when you saw him, you were shocked into silence.

Hypnos smiled, and pointed at his head. Two white wings had appeared out from his head and in the middle of his forehead, a single red and gold eye stared back. "So tell me Y/N, what is more surprising; the wings or the eye?"

You shook your head, "What the hell, Hypnos?" Your voice cracked. "Is this what you normally look like?" At least before he looked closer to humans, just a little odd looking. This was something else.

"Hhm, not when we first met but after the... you know, I just have these sometimes." Hypnos shrugged, his golden eyes on you.

"How could you?" You asked and Hypnos tilted his head at the question.

You took a step forward even though all you wanted to do was run. "I know what you did to my dad, to (Ex/N). Was it all a ruse? A game to you?"

Hypnos scowled, "I really don't appreciate hearing that name."

You stamped your foot, "Unbelievable! Is that all you have to say?"

"Oh no, the person who hurt someone I love is now having to suffer the consequences. How sad for them." Hypnos rolled his eyes at you. You have never wanted to choke someone more.

"His mother is suffering, just like how my dad is!" You yelled, hating how helpless you felt.

You walked closer, you knew he could grab you again but you needed him to listen. But Hypnos spoke before you.

"Your father isn't in pain, if anything I fixed it. He doesn't remember you or his wife. He will live out the rest of his days without you but you know humans are so quick to replace family."

Hypnos sighed, "I really did try to help him for your sake, Y/N. I felt sorry for him since he and I were both familiar with this kind of pain. But he already messed up once, I couldn't trust him not to try something else."

You were silent for minutes before you spoke. "You said you would never hurt me."

"And I haven't." Hypnos replied, he almost moved closer, wanting to comfort you.

"Liar." You spat out the word. "You have done nothing but hurt me since you showed up."

You glared at him,"You may have not touched me but you had caused so much hurt to everyone around me."

"And what makes you think I should even care about those humans?" Hypnos hissed, he grabbed your arm but you willingly went along with his tug. Words were your weapons now. You glared up at him, mere inches between you and him.

"Because I do. That should be more than enough for you." You licked your lips, "This isn't the first time we had this fight."

His gaze sharpen, golden and hard like a predator. "No it isn't." Hypnos agreed.

You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, to know exactly what you started to remember. Good.

"I had held my part, Hypnos. I agreed to come, to do whatever you needed from me." You said, "in a twisted way, yeah I guess you did help my dad even if it hurt me. And you warned me." You closed your eyes for a moment before meeting his again.

Hypnos stayed silent, his eyes watching you.

"But none of the other stuff had to happen. Mrs.Johnson was good to me, she was the closest thing I had to a mom." You whispered.

You didn't know how but something in the humming inside of you knew Hypnos would bend to you. His biggest weakness had always been you.

You laid a hand on his chest, "Listen to me, I'm willing to stay. I want to stay." You thought it would sound like lying but it didn't. Your heart twisted because you weren't lying and you knew it.

Was it really that easy to walk away from your human life?

"But I can't have you hurting people just for the sake of revenge. That is not who I am and that used to be you too." You murmured.

"Things changed Y/N." Hypnos murmured back. Just like before, he covered your hand gently.

A faint memory rises from the depths of your soul. Of Hypnos admiring your hands, always touching or holding them. You took a breath, not yet you thought to this other side of yourself, not yet.

"Then change again, Hypnos. For me." You pleaded.

"It's not that easy." But his tone was softer, you just had to push a little more.

"You once put the whole world asleep because you loved me. You became softer, kinder because you loved me. This is nothing to you." You keep your tone soft, not willing to break the quiet.

His eyes, all three of them, closed in defeat. "Okay...Okay Y/N. Just answer me this, do you love them?"

"No." You said bluntly. "They were a friend once but even though you were a jerk, I felt more with you than I ever did with them."

Hypnos nodded, the third eye opened again while his golden ones stayed close. "Good." He held a palm up, and a small dark, almost black mist formed, you could faintly see your ex and Mrs. Johnson.

The mist swirls quickly, and it changes into a soft white cloud. "It's done. They will wake up, and they will live." The cloud faded away and Hypnos dropped his hand.

His golden eyes opened and looked at you.

"Thank you." You told him. You cupped his cheek and he pressed into your hand with a sigh, his eyes closing again. "Darkness' sake, I've missed you." Hypnos said.

You leaned into him and hugged him. After a moment, he hugged back, resting his chin on your head. Neither one of you said anything for a while, just holding on each other.

"What do you remember, Y/N?" Hypnos asked, and you shrugged. "Honestly, just small bits here and there. I remembered you like honey."

Hypnos hummed, "I do. Is that all?"

You yawned, "No, sorry, it's mostly just me going by instinct or this feeling of deja Vu." You pressed into his chest. "I'm really sorry."

Hypnos rubbed your back slowly and you felt your body relax against his. This was so much nicer than anything you ever felt before.

"Come, let me show you where we can get some rest." Hypnos spoke, something was off about his tone. But you followed along anyway, too tired to even think.

💮

"You said anything, right?" Hypnos asked as you wandered around the cave. There wasn't much of anything. You see baskets of pomegranates, onions and other stuff in one room as Hypnos gilded you past it, his hand on your lower back.

Books were stacked on a desk but weren't what caught your attention. There was a bed, big and piled high with blankets and pillows. It looks like what exactly a god of sleep would want.

"Oh wow, this is the biggest bed I've ever seen." You walked toward it, "What side do you sleep on?"

You walked around the bed, keeping one eye on the god. "The middle but you can pick whatever side you want."

"O-oh." You stopped at the realization that of course this would be the only bed. There would be no reason for him to have a guest bed.

"You didn't respond to my question, Y/N. You agreed to do whatever I needed you to do, correct?" Hypnos said calmly as he held something in his hand. A small glass bottle.

You walked toward him, your heart racing at the almost predatory look he gave you.

"I. I did, yes, to get my memories back." You stopped just out of his reach. "Will that thing help?" You pointed down at the bottle

"In a way." He said and you stared at him.

"What are you not telling me, Hypnos?" You stood your ground. "I thought we were getting past this."

"You're right. It's going to hurt, just a bit. But it will help restore you." Hypnos held it up between his fingers, inside the liquid looked like water.

"Why do I feel like you're downplaying it?" You muttered. You took the bottle and popped open the cork.

You sniffed but it smells sweet, almost too sweet.

"Make sure you get every last drop, Y/N." Hypnos said, his golden eyes watching your every move.

You knew he wasn't being honest about something but you will have to deal with it later.

"Well, bottom up." You swallow every last drop. It didn't taste bad or anything at all, not even like water.

You felt his hands on you could do anything else. He pushed toward the bed and that when it hit you. A wave of dizziness made the room spend and he laid you down.

"Oh, I don't like this." You moaned. You didn't notice until it was too late, that he had pulled off your shirt. His hands felt too warm against your skin and you tried to push him off.

"I know, my love." Hypnos comforted, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't need to."

"Why?" You slurred, "I thought we were…" but you couldn't continue. The heat and the dizziness was too much for you.

"We are. We really are. But If I don't do this now, I won't get a chance until you are older and I can't risk you dying on me."

"I wouldn't have said no." You closed your eyes.

Hypnos pressed a kiss against your forehead tenderly "Yes, you would have, my love. You would want us to have more time. This way I can make sure we will have nothing but time."

His hand slided down your pants and past your underwear. He kissed you on your mouth, and pressed down against you.

You couldn't stop the gasps you made against his mouth as he rubbed you with his fingers. The pleasure you felt was far more intense than what you were used to.

"You even respond the same as you used to." Hypnos told you. "Blood and darkness, I could watch your face all day like this."

You hide your face in a nearby pillow out of spite and embarrassment. "Shut up." You moaned, hips arching against his touch.

Hypnos yanked the pillow away and tossed it out of your reach. He grabbed your chin to kiss you again. You met his kiss with as much force as you could.

"I hate you." You tried to pull away but he just pulled you back into another one. You could the heat building inside you along with the humming, the always moving energy built inside of you

And Hypnos himself consumed you,all of you and you wanted him to. Fates help you but you did. You wanted him to make you whole.

You moaned against his lips, tears running down your face as you arched and peaked.

You collapsed against the bed, Hypnos pressed kisses against your neck and collarbone.

You closed your eyes, shaking with the heat. "Hypnos, what did you give me?" You sobbed. The heat nor energy still haven't died down yet.

"Just gimme a moment, Y/N." Hypnos pulled away from the bed, and you sobbed again.

He came back and shushed you. His hand pulled down your pants, yanking your shoes along off them. You flushed at your nudity.

Hypnos loomed over you and he pulled you into a kiss. You buried your hands in his white curls as the kiss deepened. His knees nudged your legs apart as he broke the kiss.

"If I have to be nude, so do you." You tugged at his cloak. Hypnos laughed, "No, later."

His fingers worked you open and you found yourself spreading your legs more.

"You're so good, so so gorgeous. Y/N, do you know how good you look like this?" Hypnos priaised. And you somehow just flushed even more.

His fingers left you and he crawled toward you. "Kiss me." He demanded and you obeyed, the kiss you gave him was sweet and slow. He hummed against your lips and you felt him pushed inside you.

Your head tilt back to the bed with a gasp. You shook as the moment seem to stretch out, a endless moment of being taken.

You never felt so full and damnit, you hated how good he felt against you. The soft clothes gave you goosebumps as the brush against your bare skin. You sobbed as he moved inside you leisurely, like he had all the time in world.

"Hypnos, please." You begged. Your fingers curled against his tunic, trying to ground yourself against the feelings.

He shushed you, "I've been waiting for you for so long."

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You whimpered as pleasure built back inside of you.

"Don't be." Hypnos groaned, his hips started moving quicker. "Losing you killed me, Y/N. I never thought I would have this again."

You were lost for words and just pulled him into another kiss, hoping that it will say everything for you.

During the kiss, his hips snapped against you quickly, fingers digging into your thighs.

"I love you Y/N. Fuu- I love you." Hypnos murmured against you. In a whisper, "I love you, Hypnos."

He moaned and you feel the hot wetness inside you. You trembled as you followed him.

You stared upward and the humming had become overwhelming. This was it, you thought weakly.

You don't remember closing your eyes.

💮

Later you wake up, Hypnos sleeping next to you and holding you tightly. He looked so much younger like this.

You could remember everything. The people, your role as an deity, Hypnos, of loving him and he loving you in return and... and your death.

You grimaced as you rubbed your chest, you could feel the sharp burning pain. Of magic that kept from dying like a normal deity.

But now you were reborn in a way.

There was strength in you too now. A sureness you didn't have an human. You blinked at Hypnos' sleeping face. The third eye was gone but you wasn't sure what it meant exactly. You both were going to have relearn one another.

You reached up and touched one of the wings. It twitched at your touch, and you smiled, amused.

"I missed your smile." Hypnos said, his voice rough with sleep."I think it worked, Y/N." His golden eyes studied your face. You stared back.

Then you reached up and flicked him on the nose. "You should've been honest from the start." You said.

"Ow! And I was, it's not like it was my fault humans won't listen." Hypnos scowled at you.

"Not that. About restoring me. I understand why you wouldn't be but you need to more honest with me from now on. Especially since I know it cost you some of your powers." You said as you pulled Hypnos closer. Tears had filled up in both of yours and Hypnos' eyes.

"Thank you. For bring me back. I felt something was missing in me since I was born but you found it. You found me." You kissed him, chaste and sweet.

Hypnos sobbed and held on to you tightly, his face in your neck. "It worked. It really worked."

You kissed his head, your tears matching his. The both of you weeped with joy, with sadness and relief of having each other again.

"I'm so sorry. It was my fault. I should had gotten there sooner." Hypnos said roughly.

"It was no one fault, we didn't know." You brush his curls to smooth him. "I don't blame you."

He nodded against your neck and you held him.

After a few minutes, he pulled away to look at you. His hands cupped your face. You cover his hands with your own, smiling.

"I still haven't told you everything." He said softly.

"That can wait." You murmured. "We got all the time in the world."

"We finally do, huh?" Hypnos said, and you meet him a long, slow kiss.

It was good to be home.

#hypnos x reader #hades hypnos #yandere

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buckstaposition · 3 years

Text

Don’t wanna miss a thing

Birthday song challenge for @din-damn-djarin (prompt 37)

Marcus Moreno x widowed f!reader, Missy Moreno & reader

1999 words

summary & warnings: Just days before your wedding to Marcus, your emotions are going a bit haywire. Starts angsty but turns fluffy I promise! Themes of loss and grief, loss of a spouse/family member

Sobbing in the bathtub a couple of days before your wedding was not where you thought this evening was going, but here you were. Bawling your eyes out. You had just meant to take a quick shower to freshen up before bed, as your day had been mostly filled with last minute preparations and you were sweaty from hauling around decorations. Maybe not hiring a wedding planner had been a mistake, in more ways than one.

“Honey? You in there?” Marcus’ voice sounded after a hesitant knock on the bathroom door. You knew you should answer him, but you just didn’t have the strength to at this moment.

“Sweetheart?” He tried again, and you could hear the worry in his tone and it only made you feel worse.

“I’m coming in.” Marcus warned after another two minutes or so. It was endearing how considerate he was of your privacy even though you’d told him it was okay to come into the bathroom with you on numerous occasions. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in you’d lock the door and he was the man you were going to marry in less than 48 hours.

The door creaked open and Marcus padded across the bathmat, slowly pulling aside the shower curtain.

“Darling?” Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to you, gently nudging your shoulder. Still sobbing, you gripped it and held it to your face, kissing his palm between tears and hoping he’d understand. Even if you didn’t.

“Is this about Sean?” He asked softly, thumb caressing your cheekbone. You nodded. Marcus sighed; he hated seeing you upset. Just like Sean had. Marcus nudged your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, not caring that the water got on his glasses.

“If you want to be alone for a bit longer that’s alright, but please let me get you out of the shower? You’re shivering.”

It was true enough. The water had gone cold a while ago and now, taking stock of your body you realized you were freezing. You nodded and let Marcus help you up and wrap you in the big fluffy towels he’d bought the two of you as a house-warming gift when you’d moved in together. You leaned on him as he dried you off, suddenly exhausted from your outburst of emotion. You let him help you dress yourself in your fluffiest pyjamas, the shivers slowly subsiding when he pulled your extra fluffy socks onto your feet.

“Okay?” He asked, kneeling on the ground between your feet while you were sitting on your shared bed. You nodded absently, catching his hand and bringing it up to your face. The tears had stopped but the deep sadness lingered.

“Please stay?” You whispered. He kissed your knee, then your free hand.

“I’ll just tell Missy good night, okay?”

A noise from the hallway drew your attention. Missy stood in the doorframe like summoned, and your heart broke at her anxious expression.

“Hey bunny.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quiet reach your eyes. Missy looked between you and Marcus in concern, her lip starting to quiver.

“Bunny, what is it?” You patted the space next to you, inviting her to sit. After a look at her father, she rushed over, instantly wrapping her arms around you. You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus, and he rose to sit down at his daughter’s other side.

“What’s wrong, bunny? You know you can tell me.” You coaxed again, your own undefined sorrows forgotten in face of her obvious anguish.

“Diyouchangeyourmindaboutthewedding?” It rushed out of her in one breath and she clung to you harder. You hugged her back, squeezing her smaller frame tightly and caressing her hair.

“Oh sweetie, no! Why would you think that?”

“Cuz I heard you crying and-“ she hiccupped a sob into your shoulder, her voice small when she continued. “Please don’t leave us!”

“Oh bunny!” Your own eyes were starting to water again. “I won’t! I won’t ever leave you! You two are my whole world!”

You squeeze her tightly to you, feel Marcus’ arms enveloping you both and look up briefly to see how he’s doing with all this. The look on his face is heart-breaking, and you lean over quickly to press a reassuring kiss to his lips.

“Then why are you so upset?” Missy sniffled. You sighed and ordered your thoughts, mad at yourself for causing anguish to this girl you’ve grown to love so much.

“It’s sort of a silly thing really.” You began. “You know how I was married before?”

“Yeah.” You’d taken her to see his grave once, just like Marcus and Missy had taken you to meet the previous Mrs Moreno. It felt only right. “You still miss him?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I always will, but that’s not what made me cry. It was… I feel guilty for being so happy, with you two. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah…no… I don’t know.” Missy scrunched up her nose in thought. She was a smart girl, very mature for her age, but in the end she was still only a twelve-year-old girl.

“You see, when you lose someone you love very much, that grief never really goes away. Like you still miss your mom, right?”

“Every day.” She sniffled a bit less now, and looked up at her father, who nodded silently. “But I’d miss you, too!”

“I know, bunny.” You kissed her forehead, wanting to soothe her. “You won’t ever have to choose between us. Your mom is your mom and that will never change.”

“I don’t want to have to choose.” Missy whispered, wiping her tears away. “But I still want her back.”

“I know, bunny, I know. I want my husband back all the time, too.” You exchanged another glance with Marcus, glad to see that he understood and let you take the lead in this discussion. It warmed your heart to know how unconditionally he trusted you with his daughter. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it? It makes me so angry sometimes that it happened to me.”

“It does?” Missy’s eyes went wide. She turned to her father to confirm and he nodded, mouthing a soft ‘yeah, me too’ to her.

“The point is, it’s okay to feel all these conflicting things. And sometimes they might overwhelm you, like they did me today, and that’s okay too because I have people who are there for me when that happens.”

“You know you can always talk to me, us, about anything. Or grandma. Or your friends.” Marcus hugged her close and wiped away her tears, like he had yours earlier. “And if that’s not enough we will do anything to help you, okay?”

“Okay.” Missy smiled a watery smile, snuggling into her dad while holding your hand close. The three of you huddled together for a few minutes, giving everyone the chance to settle. Missy, being a kid, bounced back fastest.

“Can we have a movie night?” She looked at you both with the big puppy eyes she had inherited from her father and perfected over the course of her young life. You didn’t even need to look at Marcus to know the answer.

“And what movie were you thinking?”

“Mulan!”

“Okay, you prep the TV, I’ll get on the popcorn.” Marcus prompted, motioning for her to go ahead downstairs. She was out of the room with the speed of lightning.

“You sure that kid doesn’t have any powers? Super speed maybe?”

“Positive. You okay, honey?” He cupped your cheek and looked deep into your eyes, gaze searching.

“Positive. This actually really helped.” You smiled and leaned in for a small kiss. “So, I think we’re not too bad at this parenting thing, huh?”

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing at it!” Marcus hugged you close, kissing your forehead and then your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

The reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves. There had been no mishaps save for the kind that would make for funny stories later and the cake was almost gone. Almost being the operative word. You were in your seat, relieved to be sitting down for a while and re-braiding Missy’s hair where the decorative ribbons and flowers had come loose during the day. Marcus was weaving his way through the guests back to your table, grinning triumphantly.

“Swiped the last slice of cake while Colin wasn’t looking.” You looked behind him to see Miracle Guy frowning at the now empty cake stand.

“Oh darling, you shouldn’t have!” You protested insincerely. It was your wedding after all. You felt you were entitled to some cake.

“He’s already had two!” Marcus put the plate down in front of you and produced some clean cutlery from his pocket. “Besides, anything for my girls.”

“Awww, you’re the best husband and dad!” You pulled him in by his bowtie to press a kiss to his lips.

“Gross.” Missy commented, snatching up one of the small fancy forks and starting to dig in. The two of you paid her no mind, too engrossed in your new marital bliss. You took turns feeding each other cake in between kisses and whispering sweet things, but really Missy got most of it. You didn’t even notice the band switching to a new song. Or the announcement they had made just before that, apparently. At least not until Anita planted herself right in front of your table and brought her cane down hard on the ground.

“You two! Stop canoodling! It’s time for your dance!”

“Mom!” Marcus whined, mostly for show as he was already pulling his tux jacket back on in the same motion, then holding his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, Mrs Moreno?”

“Gladly, Mr Moreno.” You smiled and rose, letting him lead you to the middle of the dancefloor. The band had been stuck playing an intro to your chosen song for several long moments now and launched into it one last time as you took your positions. Aerosmith – I don’t wanna miss a thing. Your song. Marcus took your hand, smiling softly, and when the vocalists started so did you, twirling around the dancefloor. You felt like you were floating, a moment of near perfect happiness.

“I love you so much.” You mouthed to Marcus as he led you across the dancefloor, his hand warm at your waist. He smiled, spun you out and then reeled you back in, closer this time to press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” The song ended and you paused for a moment to receive the applause from your guests. The band faded into another song and people started filling the floor around you while you swayed in place for a moment.

“You know, there’s only one thing missing.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

You nodded towards the table where Missy was still sitting, chin in her hands and looking out towards the dancefloor, a picture both wistful and yet a little forlorn. You waved to get her attention, then motioned for her to join you two once that was accomplished. She started, her brow furrowing in the exact same adorable way as her father, then stood hesitantly.

“Come on, bunny!” You called, letting go of Marcus just enough to make space for her. Her whole face lit up and she came running over, long hair swooshing after her. She all but crashed into the two of you, throwing one arm around your waist and the other around Marcus.

“Wanna dance?” You smiled at her, drawing her as close as the volume of your skirt allowed for a little side hug.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, already starting to sway to the music. Marcus surreptitiously wiped at his eyes before hugging the both of you close. It took you all a moment to adjust your footing, but you managed it soon enough. This was truly, absolutely perfect. You could stay lost in this moment forever.

- - -

author’s note: I started this whole thing over like five times, with different concepts and characters, and somehow landed on this. It turned more into bonding with Missy than the pairing, but hey. Hope you’ll still enjoy it.

and yes, I named Miracle Guy Colin. He just looks like a Colin to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#my writing #we can be heroes (film)#marcus moreno x reader #oneshot #prompt

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direnightshade · 3 years

Note

Okay, I am sitting here imagining all the brushing of hands, secret glances, lingering motions, angsty kisses in the rain out in the garden. I want REGENCY/SLOW BURN. I need it. You need it. We all need it. I would like it with....I want to say Sackler but I think it may be too chaotic. So I will let you choose Sackler of Kylo. I am going to sit here like a small child before their birthday for this...

We do need this, and I never knew that I needed it until you filled my head with it. It’s all I’ve thought about for days, Marie. DAYS. I got a little carried away and, uh, this one’s coming in just a little over 3k.

“Have you heard the news?”

The gentle clink of a porcelain tea cup can be heard as it is settled back down onto its designated saucer. To Marnie’s left, Shoshanna hides her smile behind the rim of her own cup as she tips it back to deposit a dainty sip of the still hot tea into her mouth. Your gaze shifts back and forth between the woman and you shift rather uncomfortably in your seat, brows furrowing in both confusion and mild amusement at whatever it is the two of them are keeping from you.

“No,” you reply, albeit a little more forceful than you’d initially intended. “What news?”

Both Marnie and Shoshanna exchange knowing glances and growing smiles, the looks earning a huff of exasperation from you.

“Out with it…”

“There has been talk,” says Marnie in her typical haughty tone, always so pleased with herself to be the first to know the county’s business, “of a certain someone returning from London.”

There’s that knowing look again, and almost immediately, you find yourself sitting a little straighter, your demeanor a little more lady-like as if preening yourself for the aforementioned someone who hasn’t even shown face. “A certain someone,” you ask, though try as you might, you simply cannot hide the hint of eagerness that shines through the question posed.

“Oh, please.” This time it is Shoshanna who speaks up, once again reaching for her cup of tea. “Do not dare to think either of us to be so foolish as to not know that you are well aware that it is your precious Adam who will be returning.”

A long stretch of silence follows her statement, and for a moment you find yourself at a loss for words, merely left to stare at her in disbelief whilst she sips her tea, quite unbothered by the revelation. Of course it was Adam. Who else could it have possibly been?

The moment that your mind reels and catches up with a very specific descriptor used to describe him your mouth opens to protest, but in true Marnie fashion, she is one step ahead of you.

“Alas, he is no longer hers, is he, Shosh?”

Immediately, your eyes shoot over to where Marnie sits still casually sipping her tea as if she hasn’t just dropped a very large and important nugget of information. Your face heats and your chest tightens at the thought, and yet…

He was never yours to begin with, this you know.

The two of you had merely grown up together; you were nothing more than childhood friends tethered together by an affable bond between two families. When he had come of age, Adam left both his family and you behind in search of work opportunities in London where he had, or so you heard, become even wealthier than he had been prior to his departure. And now…

“He most certainly is not,” Shoshanna replies, now setting her cup down one final time, its contents now completely consumed. Her hands begin to smooth the fabric of her dress, the motion languid whilst she speaks. “I heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness who is undoubtedly much more well-to-do than anyone at this table…”

An undignified snort escapes Marnie, the sound quickly dispersed by another sip of her now rapidly cooling tea. “Well-to-do financially,” she says once her sip has been consumed. “I heard that Mr. Sackler is rather unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” The word falls from your tongue embarrassingly quickly.

The two women sat across from you both smirk in that abhorrently annoying way they do. “Aye,” says Marnie. “She is a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have, but alas, I have been told she simply cannot keep a grasp on his heart.”

“She never stood a chance, did she,” interjects Shoshanna. “Not when it has already belonged to another.”

You swallow thickly, eyeing both of the women before you. “There is another?”

Unexpectedly, both Marnie and Shoshanna burst into a brief bout of laughter. “Oh, do not be daft, my dear,” Marnie says once the laughter has faded away. “Do you not recall the summer in which he left for London?”

Once again, Shoshanna interjects. “How he watched you so wistfully from his carriage…”

“No,” you reply almost immediately. “You must be mistaken.” And yet… You find yourself hopeful that these words will ring true.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself this evening.” Marnie’s smirk remains in place whilst she speaks, and like Shoshanna, her cup also now stands emptied. “You are attending the ball for his return, are you not?”

You nod slowly in silent reply, your own cup of tea long forgotten and ice cold.

The second hand of the longcase clock that is displayed in the foyer of the manor in which the ball is taking place now strikes half past seven upon your arrival. A number of guests have already begun to convene in the manor’s ballroom and when you, too, join them you are immediately flanked by both Marnie and Soshanna.

“He’s already arrived,” murmurs Marnie.

“I should hope so,” you reply instantly, “this is his home after all.”

“You look quite the treat,” Shoshanna shoots back, ignoring your quip. “I imagine Adam will undoubtedly agree.” There is a pause, and then a soft gasp as her hand reaches out to grasp your upper arm. “Speaking of which…”

She nods to your right, and when you turn your head, you’re greeted by a sight that steals the breath straight from your lungs. Standing a head taller than most of the others in this room is none other than Adam who, certainly judging by the way he is weaving through the crowd, has noticed your presence as well.

“Is he…” Your question trails off into silence, the words barely a whisper whilst you maintain eye contact, unable to look away from the man who is on a mission to reach you.

“On his way over,” asks Marnie. “Indeed it would seem so.”

Marnie and Shoshanna exchange glances and offer their good lucks and goodbyes, quickly leaving your side to disappear into the crowd before you so much as have the chance to object to their all too sudden abandonment. With a quick pivot, you turn around only to collide with an audible ‘oomph’ into a solid wall of muscle. Two large hands lift in immediate response to grasp your upper arms, steadying you on your feet. Your heart leaps in your chest at the contact and though your eyes begin to lift to look at the man who’s stopped you in your tracks, you are already fully aware of whom those hands belong to.

Slowly, your eyes trail upwards past the black wool vest and the gold buttons that keep it held snugly in place across a body that is much broader than the last time the two of you had crossed paths, past the golden colored ascot that is wrapped around a muscular neck, and further up to a face that looks so similar and yet so very different. His face is framed by dark sideburns that barely manage to peek out from the hair that has grown so long since you had last spoken, the strands appearing so soft in the warm glow of the room that your fingers twitch at the thought, at your longing to reach out and feel for yourself. His eyes, however, are the very same as what you had remembered them to be; still a lovely shade of hazel—honeyed you’d told him once.

Your lips part just as you feel the slip of his fingers from the skin of your arms, and just as it did when he’d left for London, your heart aches yet again.

Softly, your name falls from his own lips in greeting, a pleased smile taking root. “You look lovely tonight, though I will admit I did not think I would have the pleasure of your company this evening.”

A soft smile now touches your features in automatic response to his statement, one which holds so much surprise in the tone. “Yes, well, you were my friend once. I would be remiss if I did not join in celebrating your homecoming.”

The pleased expression on Adam’s face falters only a fraction, but just enough for you to take note. “Are we not still friends?”

There is a lingering moment of silence between the two of you, hesitation preventing you from responding quickly enough, and then: “Friends do not leave one another without so much as a goodbye. Friends do not fail to allow their communications to cease abruptly. So no, I do not suppose that we are.”

He can sense it, the hurt that your tone carries. It is as obvious to him as the melody of the piano that plays in this very room. Adam’s mouth parts, no doubt to provide some sort of explanation, but no sooner has his mouth opened than his name is called from nearby. He turns and you peer around his stocky frame only to find a young, pretty blonde who has now managed to grasp his attention, flagging him down to join her and the three gentlemen she’s convened with.

I heard that he has become betrothed to a Baroness…

...a pretty young thing with a wealth one could only dream to have…

You watch, helpless, whilst Adam leaves you once more, this time to weave his way through the crowd to approach the woman who is undoubtedly this Baroness Marnie and Shoshanna had spoken of so eagerly earlier in the day. He leans in, pressing one kiss to her left cheek followed by a mirrored kiss to her right. It feels now—while you are doomed to watch this unfold before your very eyes—as if your heart has physically cracked, splintering into tiny shards that you are certain may never mend.

Pivoting on the balls of your feet, you turn with the intention of making your exit, but just as your earlier move had been thwarted by Adam, so too are you stopped this time, now courtesy of Marnie.

“Surely you are not leaving so soon.”

The expression that you wear sours which only encourages her to roll her eyes and loop her arm around your own, leading you away from the room’s entrance.

“A valiant effort I will admit, however, you owe everyone a dance.”

You scoff indignantly. “I most certainly do not. Not you nor anyone else. I never agreed to a dance.”

“No,” she counters, only releasing her hold on your arm once she has positioned you to her liking whilst others in the room line up beside you to take their respective places for the dance.

The music in the room shifts and the sounds of a flute now join in with the piano. Across from where you stand is none other than Adam and beside him, the blonde, but like you, he seems to be equally focused on what’s standing across from him.

He swallows harshly and your fingers flex within the elbow-length gloves that you wear, and only once the tempo of the music picks up do you—along with everyone else partaking in the dance—take the hands of those that flank you and begin to step in tandem with the melody in one large, conjoined circle.

When the beat of the music shifts once more, the hands that you grasp now release themselves from your hold, and you turn to your nearby partner to reach for them, clasping one of their hands behind their back and the other behind your own. The two of you twirl and twirl. Your head swivels with each turn, eyes seeking out the familiar hazel. When you finally spot them, you find that not only is he much closer than you had anticipated, but that he, too, has sought out your gaze.

The two of you carry on like this, switching from partner to partner, never once breaking eye contact with one another until…

“I never thought you the dancing type,” Adam says good-naturedly, the corners of his mouth curling in a smirk when the two of you finally manage to pair up.

For a fleeting moment, your lips press together in display of your displeasure—a stark contrast to the sudden and rapid beating of your heart which now pounds against the interior of your ribcage. Gently, Adam glides the pad of his thumb against the back of your knuckles, pulling you from the thoughts that you have begun to lose yourself in.

“I most certainly am not,” you protest. “I can assure you that I did not come here for a dance.”

“Then why did you come here?” There is an edge to his voice, one that—dare you say—sounds hopeful.

His hands grip yours a little tighter and...has he gotten a little closer? You inhale a breath that sounds much like a soft gasp whilst the two of you continue to move in perfect unison.

“I… I came here because I—”

But there is no time to finish your sentence. Just as the song has continued so, too, do you and Adam move onto others, once again doomed to watch one another from afar.

It is two days later when your paths cross again. The sun is shining overhead, the sky is blue, and the flowers have all bloomed to fragrance the garden with their magnificent scents. The only dark cloud that has come to ruin a perfectly good day is that which comes in the form of one Adam Sackler.

He strides so confidently out of the home’s back entrance and into the garden where you stand, a hand delicately caressing the velvety texture of a rose’s petal. He looks, much to your chagrin, every bit as enticing as he had two nights ago, though his golden ascot has since been replaced with one that is blood red. It suits him, you think to yourself before dispelling the thought from your mind.

“What are you doing here,” you ask, the words leaving you in a rush as the rose slips from your grasp when you turn to face him.

“I have come to speak with you,” he replies, stopping short of where you stand in order to keep a respectable distance between you.

“You must be mistaken.” Your head shakes firmly, jaw set and resolve steady. “I did not send for you.”

“No. No you did not, and yet I am here.”

“Why?”

It is obvious in the way that he reels that the bitter tone in your voice has taken him aback. He is silent for a brief moment, lifting a hand to pull the wool felt top hat from his head, exposing more of his flowing mane in the process. “You left in such a hurry the other night. I did not have a chance to bid you a good night.”

The noise that you make is one of indifference. “How mirthful coming from the likes of you.”

“Enough,” he bites back.

Your hands work along the silken fabric of your dress, making vain attempts to smooth the fabric in an effort to keep yourself occupied as you gather your thoughts and debate whether or not to allow them to tumble from your lips.

And yet…

Tumble they do.

“Word spread rather quickly upon your return...of your engagement.”

Adam has the audacity to look shocked at your words.

“You asked me the other night why I came. I had hoped that they were wrong. But then I saw her…”

His brows furrow as if trying to comprehend precisely what it is that you are telling him. His mouth opens and closes only to open again, but before he is able to formulate a cohesive sentence, you continue to let the words flow so freely.

“And yet you had the nerve to look at me so fondly...so...so wistfully, I—” Your words trail off as your head shakes fervently, eyes averting his piercing gaze.

It is now that Adam seizes his chance, taking a step towards you, followed by another. “You are mistaken.”

Your gaze snaps back to his, eyes narrowing as if to decipher whether or not he is telling you the truth. Another step is taken towards you, and grasping his hat firmly in one hand, he reaches for you with the other. This move, however, is one made far too soon. You take a step back, dodging his grasp and halting his movement entirely.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Do not presume to come here and make a play for my heart when you are with another.”

“You are mistaken,” he says again, much more urgently this time.

“Do you love another?” The question leaves you in a rush, and for a moment, there is only silence that follows.

But then…

Adam takes another step forward followed by another and another until finally he is mere centimeters from where you stand. The hat has long since been discarded onto the grass, his hands reaching out to frame your face.

“No,” he says firmly and with conviction. “I love only you.”

He leaves you with no time for a rebuttal; his lips meet yours softly at first, but when you reach to grab the lapels of his coat, fingers curling into the fabric, the kiss quickly becomes much more urgent.

When you are finally able to part from one another, your faces remaining close, your gaze lifts to look at him once more. “But what about—”

“My love, do you always make it a habit to listen to such gossip? There is no one else. There never has been.”

A smile stretches across your features, a mirror of the one that is now displayed so prominently on Adam’s face, the dimples you remember as a child coming to light once more. He leans in yet again to press his lips tenderly to your own.

Finally, at long last, the love you had feared to be unrequited all these years is finally yours.

#Ask #mariesackler #Adam Sackler #Sackler #Regency!Sackler #Adam Sackler x Reader #Sackler x Reader #Regency!Sackler x Reader #Regency Romance

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intangibly-here · 3 years

Text

if I'm let go now (i’ll just fade to blue)

xiao x gn!reader

⁃ scenario; 1.7k words ⁃ forest child!reader ⁃ angst ⁃ hurt no comfort

————————————————————

he holds your heart (warm red, steadily beating) in his palms without even knowing.

title from chevy - floating.

————————————————————

your first memory is one of a forest.

the emerald green canopy of draping leaves, the mossy trails dotted with mushrooms. the singing of birds, small sparrows and rounded bluejays, filling the skies. the dry bark pressed against your back, but a small form nestled in the hollow of a tree stump.

you are a child of the forest.

and as a child of the forest, one without origin, one without mortal ties, one that only knows itself and it’s own longing - you know deep inside your soul there is only one thing you’re looking for.

what that thing is, you’re unsure of;

nonetheless,

you must look for it.

and so you pick yourself up and travel.

distantly, you know you’ve lived these lives over and over again.

the very first one was as a sand-built traveler of the desert, born encircled by a patch of cacti. in that life, you had searched for an oasis, a single child by your side.

the child spoke of a land where plumes of magic spiraled through the lands, where islands remained suspended in time, hovering over grounds unchanging.

you smiled and patted the child on the head.

upon arriving at the oasis and returning the child to their family, you felt a tug. the tug was not one of great strength and painful efforts, but one of a gravitational force that exceeded physical abilities of all kinds.

you followed it, retracing your steps back to the ring of cacti.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

you crumble and dissolve into golden pools of sand.

of the endless trail of lives you’ve lived, most have become inescapably forgotten, merged into a blur that made them indistinguishable from one another.

the most memorable would be the one you’d lived last, as a wisp of a spirit clinging to the shoulder of an ethereal woman.

though in the midst of war, she remained a gentle, kind, innovative soul, always seeking to change for the better.

she was stunning.

and as you watched her live her life out, eventually (inevitably) returning once more to the field of glaze lilies, lain on the flowering plants to drift away, you wondered.

wondered how immortal beings could care so much about loss, when endings were only the relieving path of entering the cycle of reincarnation. the path to wipe clean the slate of life and start anew.

staring at the regal man kneeling by the goddess’ side, silent tears running down his face, you disappear with the wind.

as you travel, you slowly realize the world you’ve manifested in is not one of roaring vehicles nor bustling machinery like several before, but of the last one you’d visited, the one of the goddess and the heartbroken man.

you make your way back to the same land, where once stood a ruined fortress now stands a flourishing city. you can see how stalls line the sidewalks, even from where you stand on the cliffs of the outskirts, paved pathing making for a guide towards the entrance of the harbor.

as you’re thinking about how far this city has grown since you last walked the land, you catch sight of a quick-footed figure, alert and patrolling the vast land that is liyue.

this is who you’ve been looking for.

at first, it was just an obligatory interest. one that is duty-bound, directed by a play-writer hidden behind the boundaries of the world and tied together by the strings of fate.

then, as the weeks, months, and then years go by, you find yourself watching the little things he does, inadvertently noticing things you wouldn’t have realized without paying even closer attention.

the way that he protects the city both day and night, even when there are hundreds of other adventurers like yourself (a side job you’d picked up where you’d complete commissions whenever you were free) to do that.

the way he lets his short hair flow loose and untamed, the mark on his forehead only drawing out the elegance he exudes.

the way he’s quiet, caring even in the silence when he still suffers. the hope that you can ease his pain, even if only for a moment, with a comfortable silence.

it all makes your mind spiral out of control, your emotions coming undone from the container you had them sealed in.

you wonder what it is.

(you might have an inkling of the answer already.)

“today’s your birthday?”

you turn around, brightening slightly at the sight of the adeptus. you could get lost in the mirrors of his eyes if he would let you.

maybe he would let you.

“..something like that.”

you’d only revealed it last year when mrs. goldet had asked. it’s been a few years since you’ve made your way to this inn when you think about it.

he shifts where he stands for a moment, maybe a little nervously, and then presents you with a neatly wrapped gift box. he must’ve taken time with it.

“may i open it?”

he gives you a brief, confirming nod of his head.

when you undo the ribbon and carefully open the lid of the small box, you come to see a finely weaved butterfly of leaves.

you lift your gaze from the tiny creation, and xiao immediately looks to the side.

“take it. it’s an adepti amulet- staves off evil.”

you look at the reddened tips of his ears and the defensive scowl on his face and file it into the archive of your memories.

“thank you, xiao.”

“please hand this to xiao.”

you look at the packet the geo archon (zhongli, you learn he’s called) presses into your palms with utmost sincerity.

“it’s... to relieve his pain.”

your eyes soften unconsciously, and you dip your head in silent agreement. now, to look for him.

ah, so this is where he was.

your heart aches, the feeling of an overwhelming, all-consuming urge to cry rising up in you.

the wind picks up, tree leaves swaying in the breeze, following the movements of the two figures residing in the hollow of the forest.

a safe place for just the two of them.

you are intruding.

the longer you stand, watching, staring, unable to look away no matter how desperately you wish to, the more your chest throbs, the bone-deep ache of wanting to disappear spreading throughout your body.

the sound of a flute, clear and sweet, floats through the air, slim fingers smoothing over the sides and playing with skill you could never imitate.

the figure you’ve been looking for, upright and powerful and all that you have ever seen (all that he has ever allowed you to see), is relaxed for once. you can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way his spear is left untouched, rested upright against the trunk of a tree at the edges of the clearing.

you do not belong here.

then, to the sound of the flute, xiao begins to dance. the field of flowers blooms with his gentle, languid movements, petals surrounding him as he flows around the serene space.

it is exactly as he’d described to you once before, that his sweet dream would be to dance in a field of flowers to the sound of a flute.

his dream has become a beautiful reality.

you cannot dream that it would be you he dances with anymore.

as he spins around, a stunning dance that displays his years of experience with agile movement, he turns, takes off his mask, and smiles, the genuine kind that is both awkward due to disuse and tooth-rottingly sweet at the same time. a full blush covers his face warmly.

you should’ve realized long ago whose flute he was imagining.

you blink once, twice, and the tears start to fall, ones you never thought you would cry.

if you could, you would offer your entire being up to him, your heart, these thoughts, these new feelings, on a platter for him to keep, stored away from where anyone could ever reach them. it is not theirs’ to see, only his. it would never be anyone else’s, only his.

(he does not need them, not your heart, nor the medicine.)

the pain in your chest doubles over.

(he does not want them - except it’s only your heart he does not want.)

you understand now what morax had understood hundreds of years ago, where you as an immortal spirit did not.

(he does not want you.)

your gaze tilts upwards from where you stand in the shadows of the greenery, watching the picturesque scene in front of you unfold.

you are a child of the forest, but for once, this forest is not for you.

the moment you walk back to the inn, you feel the otherworldly tug.

how convenient.

(oh. you love him.)

it’s to be expected. your time here is up.

you smile at the owner, and maybe she sees something in your eyes because when you hand her the packet (“give this to xiao when he returns, please.”), she nods and says nothing.

(love, love.)

and so you return to your forest, steady footsteps over hills and plains and lakes and rivers. the blue of the sky melts to orange-reds, then to navy-blacks, then back to orange-reds once more, and the cycle repeats over and over and over again.

(lovelovelovelove-)

the moss greets you first, shifting under your feet in semblance of the way his eyes would whenever you met his gaze.

then, it’s the birds, singing slow melodies you know he loves, their clear song a reminder of how he would hum familiar tunes.

finally, it’s the trees, their leaves falling and submerging you softly, like how you would to him with blankets when he fell asleep out on the balcony, tired from the weariness of an immortal life.

you too, are now tired.

for one last time, you sob your heart out, sitting on the forest floor with nothing around you but the animals and plants.

what do you cry for? the birth of these painful feelings? the lack of reciprocation?

(you’re unsure.)

(maybe it is for your unimportant existence.)

you blink your eyes closed for the final time, and your body falls to the ground with a thump.

the butterfly of leaves drifts out of your clutches and fades with a desolate glow.

where everything begins, everything similarly ends.

(may you stay asleep for eternity so you don’t have to remember.)

you disappear.

#angst #hurt no comfort #xiao #genshin impact #cecilia #xiao x gn!reader

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missinghan · 3 years

Text

caged in this lullaby ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : assassin au; cop au; action; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 7,2k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of blood, arson & violence

❖ summary : felix ultimately lets go of all and allows himself to drown in the ashes of bitter tragedy to see what stays. the last thing he’d expect is a stranger with his greatest secret.

❖ dedicated to @blueprint-han : a continuation of aria of an assassin. song used �� the lullaby by sophism, all credits to the owner.

prologue.

Fire cares not for the time it vanishes, only that it gives the world heat and light.

The entire building burns deeply in red, orange, and yellow. The cries of the neighborhood echoes into the night with sirens blaring in the background. Your frozen figure can only watch in terror as glowing embers dance and twirl, searing through the ground, ripping through the roof in despair. Tendrils of smoke are reaching into the sky desperately as if attempting to escape the blazing inferno below.

“Kid, I wanna have Chinese for dinner today.”

“Okay, and I should care because…?”

“Because I’m housing your ungrateful ass.”

No. No!

You drop the plastic bags in your hand, your muscles move before your mind can register what’s happening. The next thing you know, you’re racing to the heart of danger, utterly unfazed about the fact that fire is the most beautiful weapon of them all. Powerful. Destructive. Heartless. In mere moments, everything you love can be reduced into nothing but sheer ashes.

“But we always have Chinese!”

“Who’s paying again? Was it you? No, I don’t think so.”

Tears blur your vision and you elect to ignore every white noise buzzing at the back of your head. Each step you take is rather a negotiation than an order. Your limbs move like they never belonged to you. This agony has an unpleasant warmth to it, eating at your stomach and searing inside your rib cage. Your body concedes to the torment, unable to bring a single thought into consideration. The entirety of your existence yearns to curl into something fetal, something primeval, and all while the pain burns and radiates.

“Officer! Stop her! She’s running into the fire!”

“Child! What are you doing?! It’s dangerous!”

But what you’re going through is nothing compared to his torment. He’s in there. Writhing and suffering alone. It must be so painful, so cold despite the enraged flames around him.

When a strong pair of arms slip around your body and every motion comes to a stop, there is a scream of the mouth and lungs, the sound of his name lingers on the tip of your tongue. Because a response is impossible, there comes a scream of the eyes and soul, the kind that bypasses the ears and speaks right to the heart.

You forget how to scream from that day on because you are either left with dead silence or punished with cruelty.

Because you couldn’t save him.

one.

The housekeeper wakes with a tight knot in her stomach. Her body topples the sheets over to reach for her nightstand, flickering on some source of light. Only silence accompanies the hard throbbing inside her chest until a loud thud comes from the hallway. Her body jolts up instantly, a hand over her chest as a soft string of melody saunters into the emptiness of the night.

“When the night is falling, and you have lost your way.”

Her quivering figure quickly exits her room with a flashlight. Her right hand clutches at her other one as an attempt to stop the shaking as adrenaline sears through her vessels. With dreaded steps, the housekeeper manages to reach the staircase, approaches the end of it, and proceeds toward the living room.

“When the rain is storming, and your world’s turned to gray.”

The voice smoothly slips through the chilling nightfall like an allure yet there’s nothing musical about it. The lullaby sometimes goes off-tune or comes out in broken waves as though whoever’s singing genuinely doesn’t care. They sound more dead than angry, more tired than irate, making her innards shift uneasily.

“When the wolves await outside, and you feel like you’ve nowhere to hide.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, just remember. Remember when I said.”

And they stop. The housekeeper musters up every bit of courage left. A breath in. A breath out.

In the darkroom, even the ticking clock has a relaxed feeling, as if it’s merely a heart-beat at rest. She feels as though the air moves like cool water and the aroma of the house owner’s scented candles infuse her far more deeply than it did in the light of day. The hollow space is etched with charcoal, the fabrics are muted hues as if they too await dawn to ignite their colors for all to see. The moment she heaves a sigh of relief, her eyes make the mistake of averting to the ceiling, unveiling a scene of unimaginable terror.

Fear floods her system, it pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. Her heart might as well explode right now because even her jaw is shaking non-stop. Her body urges her to either run fast, away from the horror laid out flat in front of her eyes, or to stay quiet and do the right thing, calling the police. But instead, she remains where she’s standing.

There is Mr. Yuuki, the house owner she’s been working for over three years, hung upon the crystal chandelier. His limp body lets its limbs stick out awkwardly, white eyes rolled to the back of his head as blood drips to the floor, forming a dark pool. The flashlight drops to the floor, and so does her trembling gaze. She gasps sharply when a thick smear of crimson is splattered across the wooden tiles, sinking into the cracks like poison.

Her adrenaline surges so fast she almost vomits, she can taste saliva thickening in her throat and beads of sweat trickling down on her forehead. At some point, she’ll have to move and risk the chance of getting herself killed.

Just then, a shadow comes into view and her legs go weak, letting her body collapse to the ground like a crooked puppet. Incoherent pleas pour from her lips as she screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for whatever comes next. “Please! I’ll do anything! I won’t call the police! Just don’t kill me, please! Please!”

Footsteps are advancing toward her, getting louder by the tick of the clock. They echo listlessly until the sound slowly fades away, only a soft response comes afterward.

“Greetings to his boss for me.”

two.

The mansion has been his home for decade upon decade, embraced by nature on the outskirts of the city, away from all the noises, the buzzing flow of time people have signed their souls up for. It is all concrete and tall glass windows that give overlooking views of the clear horizon, a chance to relax and take in the changing of the seasons from the comfort of an easy chair.

Yet coming from the hollow building is a strange sound, a melodic voice of pain and sorrow, of heartache and loss. The tune is soft, like grass on a summer day, or the tenderness in the air in which only spring possesses. It can fill one with warmth while weaving a sad tale of indescribable, rather forgotten memories.

“Darling, close your weary eyes. Everything will be fine.”

“Let the breeze wipe away your tears. There is no need to cry.”

He’s seated at the edge with his back straight, he no longer feels dwarfed by the grand piano as he used to as a kid. His fingers are limber as they glide on ivory first and ebony after, his neck slightly bent down, tousling his hair to the front while his eyes flutter shut in serene.

“You can lay down. No one will hurt you.”

The music stand lies empty, has been so for years. He only ever reads the notes within his mind because he goes as far as playing the instrument to this day for this peculiar lullaby. Slowly, the music seems to fill the room to the brim, then spills out through doors and windows and the cracks in the walls, while at the source trembling fingers dance sweetly on.

He knows that he needs to calm down.

“Let your fears be carried by the streams. The twilight gleam watches over you.”

In his head, he reads through the music scrupulously as though he’s practicing during the old, innocent days, beat by beat, bar by bar, note by note. His fingers know precisely where to go and how each key reacts when he applies the same, adequate amount of pressure. It’s as though he can make the hammer hit each string in a way to resonate with the most beautiful of sounds.

The thought of playing as a kid eases the spike in his heartbeat and clears his mind. He can still vividly remember the first time he got lifted onto the bench on his sixth birthday, his tiny legs dangled over the edge and his figure completely overwhelmed by the mammoth-sized instrument. His arms could barely span the length of the keyboard, his feet could only do so much as graze the pedal below.

“And when the morning arises…”

He recalls the mounts of sheets cluttering his father’s old bookshelves in such ways that he himself can’t remember their initial color. He recalls the tall figure seating beside him each time, guiding his hands across the keys, ones that were unfamiliar to music and the swell it can bring to one’s chest. He recalls those starry eyes staring down at him, the outburst of laughter, and the cat-like smile that brings love and harmony to his fragile soul.

“I shall be by your side…”

Yet he never recalls a proper goodbye, only tears.

“Minho.”

The melody pauses sharply, his body stiffens at the name. Minho isn’t here.

“Minho, is that you?” Minho isn’t here, a voice inside him snaps.

A deep breath. He elects to ignore the strings that are bound to break inside his chest before pushing himself off the wooden bench. With a swift turn, he sees Mrs. Lee standing by the door with her hair in her face, her soulless eyes lighting up once they graze the sight of him. “Minho, my sweet child. You’ve come home. You’ve finally come home!” Her voice echoes in joy, a hand clamped over her mouth as her eyes brim with tears.

Minho isn’t here! His heart yells aloud, yet his mind can’t comply.

He doesn’t know what’s urging him to approach her, to let her lean on him. Perhaps, it’s guilt. Or the yearning for the warmth of a mother who abandoned him long ago. “Yes, mother, I’m home,” he sighs softly when she clutches at his shirt. “I’m never going to leave you again.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”

Hurried footsteps flood the hallway rapidly until the housekeeper barges through the door, simply breaking the agonizing silence. “Good gracious, Mrs. Lee! Goodness, she must have forgotten about her sleeping pills again.” She then hastily rushes to his side, supporting Mrs. Lee by her waist while bowing continuously. “Young Master, please, allow me.”

“It’s alright, you’ve done enough,” he waves his hands with a small smile. “I’ll tuck her back to bed, today is my day off anyway. You may go home and rest now.”

He can’t forget how much lighter Mrs. Lee has gotten, how paler her face has been. He’s afraid that one wrong movement and he might send her frail body flying to the floor. Only when she’s fully covered by her blanket, the stars come out to play and the evening takes on the aroma of a breezy night. He likes this, the softness, the quietness of the sense of resting. Moonlight is streaming through the windows yet his mind, clouded with grey, throbs uncontrollably when he realizes the sudden pang inside his chest.

It’s been fifteen years…

His phone rings. “Sergeant Lee Felix, Seoul P.D,” he keeps his voice from shaking. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide. “I’ll be there.”

And I still couldn’t do anything for you.

three.

Light fog seeps into the depthless night when Felix exits his car, throwing on his blazer in a hurry as he staggers toward a water fountain. There’s barely any vehicles operating at this hour, leaving the streets chilling and empty. He quickly checks his watch one last time. One AM on the dot. Another sleepless night.

“Lix! Over here!”

His blank expression breaks into a grin when two familiar faces come into view. “Changbin? Hyunjin? You both got called in too?”

“Yeah, can’t believe the Chief had the audacity to interrupt my beauty sleep for a simple homicide,” the taller officer, Hyunjin, has his face contorted in faint annoyance, brushing through his long locks of hair with his gloved hand.

“The night duty squad is handling another case on the other side of the city. We know the neighborhood like the back of our hands,” Changbin gives him a hard smack on the chest, only to wince quietly later to himself. Ugh, I’m so out of shape. “If anything, we have the best chance to catch up to the culprit.”

Hyunjin protests with a forced smile, “Shut up, Lieutenant, I know that.”

“Alright, let’s review,” Felix hops into the conversation, clasping his hands together in feigned excitement. “Someone dialed 911 with a murder case on the line. The culprit, escaped or not, we’re still uncertain of. But they did leave behind a witness.”

His coworkers nod simultaneously as he recaps what Seungmin told him on the phone earlier and the three of them find themselves standing right before the provided address. The house seems oddly quiet for someone getting murdered. “Right, chances are they’re still in there. We’d better-”

The front door comes flying open. A woman dressed in her nightgown collapses to the ground instantly, fear echoing through the rumble of her voice. “Help! P-Please! Mr. Yuuki! He-He’s dying! Please, I beg you! Save him!” With her face buried in her hands, a wave of laughter bubbles up her windpipe, shaking her core tremendously. “They did it again! They’ve claimed another victim!”

Changbin is the first one to step up, helping the housekeeper to her feet. “Miss, please try your best to stay calm. Everything is alright now, we’re here because you did the right thing of calling us. You’re safe with us,” he gently supports her by the shoulders, his voice soft but serious. “If it’s okay for me to ask, what exactly happened to Mr. Yuuki? Is there anyone else inside?”

The housekeeper seems to still be shaken. Tears are threatening to fall but she bites them back, shaking her head to answer the second question first. “N-No, Mr. Yuuki has a son but he’s currently studying in Europe so I’m the only one other than…”

Her voice trails off, the pools of tears in her eyes are clouded with those moments of horror she wishes she could erase forever. “It was horrible! I-I was having trouble sleeping before a strange sound woke me up completely. Someone was singing. Th-The culprit was singing. And there was s-so much blood. Mr. Yuuki was hung upon the chandelier when I went downstairs! So-So much blood. I didn’t know how- or why- I- I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Miss, please try to stay calm. I won’t ask you any more questions, I am not here to interrogate you,” Changbin exhales deeply, looking over at his underlings. “Hyunjin, go check up on Mr. Yuuki. Felix, look for the culprit. I’ll call Seungmin for more back-ups.”

The two officers comply, “Roger that.”

Entering the house, Felix is bathed in a whirlwind of chilling silence and utter darkness. The smell of blood makes something inside him twitch, prompting him to look over at his friend. “I’ll go upstairs, you stay down here and handle the body until Jisung or Seungmin comes.”

The Sergeant advances up the long flight of stairs with his gun clutched between his hands. Almost immediately, he takes notice in the stream of moonlight illuminating the end of the hallway and rushes toward the wide-opened door. His figure barges into the room with caution and is met with the night breeze kissing his face and white curtains fluttering gently.

Just then, a loud bang is heard in the distance.

Felix feels himself tense up, eyes darting from one place to another in hopes of finding- there! On the rooftop from across the streets.

In a heartbeat, he picks up his transceiver and speaks, “I have eyes on the suspect. Pursuing on foot.” With his feet on the window frame and his arms on the tiles of the roof, he manages to lift himself while his muscles contract in pain. Facing forward, Felix begins to sprint.

The wind screams into his ears, his feet flying over steel and leaves. His shoes pound heavily across the hard surface, causing what’s remaining of the downpour this morning to slash up his legs. From one rooftop to another, his calves burn tremendously yet he keeps darting past houses, buildings, and trees with his eyes glued onto the shadow before his eyes.

Adrenaline courses throughout his system; he can feel his whole body working, his leg muscles running warm, a thin layer of sweat covers his nape. The cold air keeps biting at his blood and lungs but he keeps his breaths as steady as he can, pushing harder and going faster. For a split moment, his foot slips when his mind is frantic with cloudy thoughts. How is it possible for one to move this fast?

The hooded figure a few feet ahead of him speaks volumes in the silence; they’re running. They’re running like the devil himself is in pursuit. Only it’s worse because the felon is flesh and blood and means to send people straight to hell just the same way. His breathing quickens at the thought process, trying to appease his need for oxygen.

Several thuds of footfalls later, he finally decreases the proximity although fresh air now shocks his lungs, making him want to spurt and pass out in exhaustion. His body trembles from the consistent pace he’s forced himself into, yet his hands lift the firearm swiftly, his gaze shaking with the pounding inside his chest.

It only takes so much strength to pull the trigger. He shouldn’t be hesitating like this. Felix stops himself completely, regains his composure, and raises his gun once again. He elects to ignore the blood roaring in his ears, the throbbing of his anxious heart, and squeezes the trigger.

The bullet cuts through air and comes flying toward the wanted figure, missing them by a strand of hair. His face contorts in anger as he mumbles out a curse word. He missed. He shouldn’t have. He can’t miss. Missing isn’t an option.

Felix pumps his legs, gaining momentum with each push. But it feels gut-wrenching all of a sudden after a few thrusts forward—his body is giving in. He watches the culprit quicken their pace until their steps turn into leaps. Just a few more feet and they’ll jump the other side of the neighborhood.

He won’t make it in time.

Three. Two. One. The figure gathers enough strength and takes one final leap into the night. His heart immediately drops to the pit of his stomach, every movement comes to a full stop like the sudden stretch of silence within his rib cage.

“Shit!” He perks up at the scream and glass shattering. “Ow! Ah! Ouch! Ugh…” And...dogs barking?

“Oh come on!”

four.

His feet slip outwards on the wet autumn leaves as he rounds the corner, his breaths coming out in spurts, hot and nervous as he inhales deeper, faster. With each footfall, a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. Perhaps jumping off someone’s rooftop in a time crunch wasn’t the smartest decision.

“Give me a break. Do you have any idea how much time it took me to outrun those dogs?”

“I won’t let you slip away. It’s best for either party if you cooperate. Don’t do anything foolish and mercy might be an option,” Felix clicks a bullet into the chamber, gaze falling onto the hooded figure.

In the dim light that oozes through a narrow gap lies the alleyway. It's the underworld of any town: gloomy and unpleasant. Darkness is lurking in every corner inside the labyrinth of narrow passages and dead ends. Litter is dumped on the street and birds nest amongst the sprawling rot. Moonlight lights up the pathway for him, making it easier to back the felon up into the corner.

“One more step, officer, I dare you.” A warning like poison pours into his ears.

Although something seems different this time. They sound more frantic. Is there something that’s bothering them? “You just committed murder, you filthy scumbag. One more step, I dare you.”

“Oh, you’re so unoriginal,” they clutch their right arm and chuckle lightly. Felix squints his eyes with the limited source of light; inevitably, they go wide upon seeing crimson dripping to the ground. But as the second ticks by, less and less blood pour from the wound as though the muscles and skin are simultaneously closing up the seams.

What the hell am I looking at?

A smirk. “Don’t mind if I do.”

What are they... Wait, shit-

At the kind of speed he never thought humans could acquire, the hooded figure approaches him in what seems like seconds. The sudden whiplash blows the hood back and allows them to bathe in the moonlight raw.

“Say, what are you going to do with a filthy scumbag like me again?” Something sharp and shiny comes into contact with the warmth of his flesh but he can’t bring himself to register or counter it.

Your features flash before his eyes, glowing from within, leaving him in complete awe. Although you’re talking nothing but venom, pain is evident in the crease of your lovely brows and the way your lips are pressed into a straight line. Your eyes are deep pools of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief. There’s something so damn familiar about you. Felix almost finds himself resonating within your agony. He almost gasps.

In this growing light, your dark silhouette becomes full colors.

But why aren’t you moving? He’s completely open like this.

“You!” Your voice suddenly trembles and so do your pupils. “You-You’re-”

Snapping back to his senses, Felix leaves no time for you to finish your sentence and grabs your armed limb with one hand while striking a harsh blow at your stomach with the other. You let out a hushed wince at the impact, falling to the cement ground along with the blade in your palm. He swiftly flips you over, cuffs your hands, and puts his gun at the back of your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

“Oh, spare me, Robin,” you involuntarily snort. “I’ll be gone before you can finish reading my rights.”

He nearly sneers, “Move an inch and I’ll put a bullet through your head. Your hands are cuffed, don’t you try to make your face worse than it already is.”

“I’m an Ace, darling. It’d be insulting if a pair of handcuffs and your scrawny little ass could stop me.”

His grip on the gun grows a fraction tighter, his heart starts beating faster at the name. “You work for the House of Cards?” The name rolls off his tongue bitterly, leaving a lick of fury consuming the rational side of his brain.

House of Cards—thieves, terrorists, assassins, dealers—the largest criminal organization that has been the dread of the country for decades. Just like the playing cards, the organization consists of four main groups: Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts, and Spades. The Kings and Queens lead these groups for they’re either new or incompetent for the higher ranks. The Jacks come second in commanding and are often advisors while the Jokers remain anonymous to all as messengers. The four Aces are the most trusted by the chairman and only take orders from him themselves.

“I do,” you reply flatly, a sigh going unnoticed. “Shouldn’t you be fleeing by now upon receiving this information?”

“A murder. A gunshot right across the street. A living witness,” he grits with a timid smile. “All that and you call yourself an Ace? We’ve encountered worse than amateurs like you. You’ll be rotting behind the bars before you know it.”

“I like your optimism, officer. Genuinely, it's a blessing for you to bring us light in this time of darkness,” you turn sideways, smirk, and make sure that he sees it. “Ignorance is truly bliss sometimes.”

Something inside him snaps, water overflows the cup and he instantly grabs you by your head, burying it further into dust and cement. “I don’t know who you think you are. But you clearly don’t know what I’m capable of and the fact that I will stop at nothing to bring your boss down. I will make him face justice as you’re hearing it from the news in prison. I’ve promised. I’ve sworn.”

“Oh?” You dare to glance at him again. “I never knew cops detested my boss so much. Or is it just you? Is your hatred personal? You’ve broken a protocol from the get-go, haven’t you? Is it the reason why you even became an officer in the first place?”

Shit, Felix curses inwardly as your words stab him in the chest, twisting the tip of the blade deeper and deeper as though you’re not allowing him to breathe properly. His hands start shaking; the vibration against your nape makes you exhale, drawing yet another grin on your lips. “Tell me, who did they kill?”

To hell would he ever tell you.

“A family member?” Focus.

“Your loved one?” Cover your ears.

“Or a close friend, perhaps?” One wrong move.

His shaking freezes midway, his voice comes out monotonous. “Shut up.” And you’ll die.

“Bingo,” you feign excitement before clearing your throat. “Also, I wouldn’t pull the trigger if I were you. Because I am your best asset to get to my boss. You and I aren’t so different, trust me. After all, we both want his head.”

He yelps in surprise when you twist your back slightly, swinging your arm and elbowing his jaw while disarming him simultaneously. With a swing of your leg, he loses his balance on the knees and lands harshly on his back.

With your knife pointed at his neck, your orbs bore onto his like you’re about to set him on fire. He gulps nervously, “What? How did you?”

“Listen up, I have a deal for you.”

You were injured, how could you risk tearing your wound up like that? His chest rises then falls inconsistently, eyes darting to your forearm. It’s no longer bleeding. There’s no way!

“...what are you?”

“Call me what you want. Murderer. Killer. An assassin. A monster.”

Felix squirms under your grip, spatting in aggression, “If so, you’re daydreaming if you have the audacity to believe that I will get my hands bloodied with you.”

“I’m not telling you to pick a side, officer. I’m just trying to say that I know something you don’t and you know something I don’t. If we pool our information we might actually have a good shot at capturing the bastard. If you brought me back to headquarters now, I’d escape either way and you’d get nothing from me. But if you pretend like our encounter never happens, you’ve got yourself a new partner.”

“What feud do you have with your boss so bad that you’re willing to work with a police officer like me?”

“I never considered him as my boss. I never considered the organization as a place that I belonged to. No one knows who the leader is. I’ve been tracking him down for years already.”

“...what? That’s-“

“They killed someone very important to me, too.”

five.

Chan murmurs tiredly at the knock on his door, “Who’s there?”

“Sergeant Lee’s present to report on the assassin from last night, Chief.”

“Come in.”

Chan fixes his collar as Felix closes the door shut, strides straight into his office, and collapses on the nearest armchair. Usually, he’d be complaining about the lack of sunlight in the Chief’s working space. Because like any other civil office, there are enough windows for one not to choke to death but Chan has made a habit of keeping them close. Now, he decides to open the blinds and lets the light in completely, prompting Felix to throw an arm over his eyes dramatically.

“Shut it. The lights are killing me,” he groans aloud, forehead creasing in frustration. Focus.

Chan says pointedly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, “But you look like shit.”

“Of course I look like shit. You should try chasing down an Ace yourself some time. Really, it’s been a pleasant distraction from my unfinished paperwork and impotent stress,” the junior officer mumbles, dropping his arm and staring blankly at the space ahead.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Chan sighs, sitting back. “It just makes sense, you know. Yuuki and his neighbor were moles the Yakuza planted in that filthy organization. No wonder their leader had to send one of the four Aces to finish him off.”

Felix closes his eyes for a moment, resting his arms on his knees, the muscles are still aching from last night’s incident. His fingers unconsciously reach for his bare neck, tracing the shallow cut as goosebumps bubble upon his skin. Focus. “Enough being mopey,” Chan grins and slaps something cold against his cheek, causing his friend to jolt up in surprise. “Aren’t you here to report?”

He flashes Felix a cheeky smile when the younger clenches the cold towel on his face in annoyance. Nonetheless, there’s a twinge of faint nostalgia and affection lighting up inside his stomach—the kind that comes from long-time friends. “Alright, I gotta come back to my desk before Changbin goes off about my productivity anyway.”

“Good, elaborate,” Chan whips out a pen with his crusty notebook, eyes narrowing and turning serious.

“The Ace escaped,” Felix starts, “After checking in with Yuuki’s housekeeper, Hyunjin and I went inside the house. He handled the body while I was heading upstairs. I pursued them as soon as I heard the gunshot from across the streets. I only managed to wound them from afar, but it’s not enough to slow them down. They were too fast so I was outpaced at the end.”

The Chief raises a dark brow, eyeing the cut on his throat, “I can see that you’re injured, too. Did they shoot you? Seungmin only found a semi-auto pistol next to the second victim.”

“No… I did this to myself during the chase,” Felix touches his wound again, gulping, “They only carried a knife, of all the things.” Don’t be obvious. You can’t risk getting them to suspect you.

“You couldn’t get close enough to see if we’re dealing with a man or a woman, right?” Chan then casts a meaningful look at the mountain of unfiled paperwork upon his desk, feigning interest in the light reading that awaits him for the rest of the day.

“Unfortunately, no. They have a good physique, clearly well-trained and more skilled than the little fries we’d managed to throw behind the bars,” Felix shakes his head, eventually pushing himself off the black armchair. “What about the housekeeper? According to what I’m able to recall, she did, in fact, see the Ace.”

Chan wants to scream at the mention, fingers massaging his temples. “That woman is far too traumatized to even speak a word right now. She’s been giving Seungmin headaches all morning.”

“Yeah, about that...sorry, I couldn’t be more helpful,” Felix bites his lips as he can feel his own lies suffocating the space around him, filling his lungs with water and squeezing at his windpipe. He needs to get the fuck out of here.

The Chief chuckles lightly and waves his hands, “No, no, we’re all kinda impressed, actually. No one has ever been able to propose a mere chase with them before. It’s already a miracle that you came back alive.”

His heart instantly sinks, his fists curl up unconsciously. Felix could have died. He should have died last night. But you hesitated. Why? Why would you spare him? And why were you looking at him like that? “Hey.” A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it. “Don’t worry about it. You should take a day off today. You look unwell.”

“But-”

A figure lands soundlessly on Chan’s balcony, swiftly turning around to face Felix.

His brain stutters for a moment and his eyes take in more light than they should, still, they widen when shock riddles his senses. Every part of his body tries to catch up and his thoughts go on a dreadfully long pause. It’s you. Standing in broad daylight without anything to cover up. Distanced a few feet from his grasp.

One shout and you’ll be cuffed in mere moments. It’d be insulting if a pair of handcuffs and your scrawny little ass could stop me. His precinct has been desperate, ramming into one dead-end after another for a single lead to House of Cards.

Felix can turn you in right here. Right now. If you brought me back to headquarters now, I’d escape either way and you’d get nothing from me.

“That is an order, Sergeant,” Chan grins, not noticing how pale his friend has gotten in such mere moments. “You’ll collapse the moment you head out for patrol, trust me.”

“No, Chan! You don’t understand, I-”

“Do it,” you mouth, sealing his lips instantly.

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’ll take a nap in the infirmary.” You slap on a devilish smile at his words, wiggling your phone high enough for him to see.

As soon as Felix closes the door behind him, the spike in his heartbeat finally falls with the stiff smile on his face, his breaths short and uneven. The urge to punch something is cut short when his phone vibrates timely. A message from an unknown number: “Ten PM. The waterfall in Yellow Woods. You’ve got one chance.”

six.

Felix has underestimated the cold since nightfall. His muscles ache and shiver all at the same time, momentarily yelling at him to turn around to head back to the comfort of his family’s mansion. Yet the dark Yellow Woods seems to silence time and space, only leaving him with the urge to march forward.

He lied to Chan about your encounter, lied to Changbin so he wouldn’t have to go on his night shift, lied to Hyunjin that he’d go home and rest like his friend always told him to. Humans have been taught not to lie but deception still exists and one cannot escape its grasp. Even Felix never knew there would be a day where he’d become this desperate. Just thinking about it makes him want to vomit, utterly disgusted.

Clutching his gun tightly, he begins walking faster into the light fog.

“My my, look who it is.” His frantic steps come to a halt, his head snapping back immediately. “Someone was so hellbent on giving me a headshot the last time we met. What changed?”

Felix raises a brow in confusion. “What the- Didn’t you ask me to meet up at the waterfall?”

“The waterfall is the other way, you fool,” you jerk your head back, clearly unimpressed.

“Cut me some slack, my phone was dead! Wait, how did you- were you stalking me?!”

You can’t help but stifle a chuckle; his face is priceless. “Tracking sounds more appropriate, don’t you think?”

“You-”

“You’d better pick up the pace if you want to survive this little partnership of ours, officer.”

Eventually, he complies and stumbles through the woods with you, his feet feeling like they’re being dragged across cement. During the day, Yellow Woods is alight with the serenity one yearns for at their lowest, birds chirping and leaves rustling to one united song of Mother Nature. In contrast, it is now hollow, colorless, almost empty to a sense with all this darkness around him.

“I never said that we had a deal,” Felix says while trailing after you, cautious not to trip over any branches.

You turn around for a meager moment, giving him that sly grin of yours. “Suppose that you do, we need a contract. Some simple protocols between comrades. What do you expect from me? Keep it simple. Excessive details bore the shit out of me.”

“First, no with-holding information. If you know something, I need to know it and vice versa. Second, no personal questions. I don’t want you in my life nor do I want me getting my hands dirty with you.”

You hum in response, “Hmm, short and sweet. But I have my own as well.”

He gulps, “Go on.”

“I don’t work with dogs. I don’t care if it’s licensed as emotional support. I won’t hesitate to shoot if you even let one do so much as breathe in the same room as me.”

“...that makes way too much sense.” So that explains why-

“What about you? Afraid of the dark?”

“I wasn’t born this morning.”

To the East lies the waterfall you’ve mentioned this morning, which you lead him down a dirt road and right behind it, straight into a small cave. There are two paths diverged that catch him by surprise but there’s nothing he can do other than taking the left side, hastily following the source of light from your phone. Your final destination unveils before his eyes as a small, underground lair.

Felix suddenly feels cold for no reason. “How do you even sleep?” He scrunches his nose while rubbing his hands together.

“I don’t,” you say without looking at him, exhaling and shrugging off your coat. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go heat up some tea before you freeze to death.”

Not knowing what to do with himself, his eyes roll around the seemingly confined but commodious space in curiosity. Your working desk is as big as the one in the conference back at headquarters, mounted with an overwhelming amount of files. To the right, the wall is lined with weapons, target boards, and rag dolls; you seem to prefer blades over firearms. The whole place is lighted up with candles all around, giving it that eerie feeling like something straight out of an old movie.

Still, not bad.

His careless feet drag him across the concrete, subconsciously reaching out for the files on your desk. He can’t fight the urge, he can’t resist it. Before his mind can register and his conscience can yell at him, the plastic binder is already yanked open. Experiment #180108–Y/N, it reads. “What the hell… Enhanced strength and agility… Instant self-healing… Metamorphosis? Is this what they’ve been doing under our noses all this time?”

“No, only my parents.” Your voice snaps him out of it, prompting him to drop the files. “Your office was giving me anxiety, by the way. Thank god for home sweet home.”

“What the hell were you doing in my-“ A dagger flies past his head, missing him by a strand of hair and ending up embedding itself on the bull’s eye of a nearby target. “Daughter of a bastard,” he breathes out in disbelief, eyes boring holes on you. “What kind of tea was that?!”

“Lee Felix. Only son of the Prime Minister. Ranked Sergeant at the eighth precinct, Seoul P.D. The precious heir to one of the five great families.” Words leave you. You only stare into those bright, brown eyes burning with anger, his heart almost falling silent. “Gosh, you’ve got quite the profile. Shouldn’t you be worried about the image of your family instead of shaking hands with the devil like this?”

Felix clenches his jaw, everything is slow and warbled as he looks down, shaking violently. “And yet you still thought I’d be crazy enough to make a deal with an Ace?”

“You’re not crazy,” you sigh, grinning internally. “Just extremely desperate-“

“I am not desperate!” A lie spats out, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste. “I have no reason to be.” Focus.

A mocking shrug. “Right, you’re not desperate. You just followed me all the way here without taking out your gun or rambling on with your boring death threats. Like a little, perfect pet. Exactly what I needed.”

“Death threats don’t work on monsters,” he croaks, fists balled and eyes wide. Even so, the way you gaze darken still goes unnoticed. “I’ve seen your kind kill anyone without hesitation. Getting blood on your hands without even blinking. You, all of you, aren’t humans anymore. You’re all a complete write-off of a species.”

Felix lifts his head, pupils trembling at the sight in front of him. For a moment there, you look sad and broken. Raw, naked, and vulnerable like the rest of humanity. It makes him ponder, how can humans be so weak yet so cruel at the same time?

“...why? Why are you doing this?” he inquires shakily, head racing with a thousand thoughts. “I don’t understand. Actually, there’s a lot that I don’t understand about you.” No! Focus, you idiot!

“You don’t have to.” Finally, you speak after the long dread of silence, combing a hand through your hair tiredly. “You know. It’s funny how the same thing happened to us. And now look at where we ended up individually.”

His brain pauses and chokes up. “What are you saying?” Cover your ears. Do not be misled!

You look away, simply knowing that you won’t be able to hold it in if you’re making eye contact. “I know you’re not the rightful heir of the Lees. You weren’t part of the bloodline in the first place. You’re simply a replacement. A second option. Nothing but an afterthought-“

“No! Shut up! Just shut u-“ Cover your ears. Do not trust anyone!

“—the real heir supposedly went missing during the Eiji Station tragedy where my organization ordered a bombing fifteen years ago. It’s been over a decade and they’ve already concluded his death even though a body was never found. Am I right, officer?”

Choose the wrong path.

Felix buries his face into the palms of his hands as streaks of silvery tears burn his cheek. His exhausted shoulders shake in each rake of emotion through his frame, the fire of anger and despair boils past the seams he can no longer hold together. With his knees weak, he can only sob and drops down on his knees, screaming with all his might.

And you’ll die.

But even you, the devil itself, can’t save the man who’s drowning himself in his own tears of hell.

“Welcome to the team. The name is Y/N,” you offer him a hand, blankly eyeing his quivering figure. He finally picks himself up with difficulties, eyes glowing with tears and fury. After a split moment of hesitation, his hand reaches for yours, firmly clasped and sealing your deal.

Because he’s falling down the same bottomless abyss with you.

Because you both couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Minho.

epilogue.

__ fifteen years ago

“Hey, Minho, you’re really good at playing the piano. Are you gonna be a musician?”

“Hmm, I do like music. But I’d rather become a police officer.

“Why? Didn’t you say that you like music?”

“I’ll become anything for my mother.”

“Then, I’ll be a doctor when I grow up! And we can save people together.”

“Okay. It’s a promise, Lix.”

164 notes · View notes

browniefox · 3 years

Text

Color Theory

@wrightfamilyweek Day 2 - Investigation/Hijinks

In which an anniversary is coming up, so Trucy makes some plans.

You can also find this on AO3 right here :)

“Have fun at work, Daddy!”

Trucy runs up to Daddy and hugs him around the stomach. He kisses the top of his head.

“Mmhm, I expect your homework to be done and you to be in bed by the time I get home, alright? No exceptions!"

“Of course!”

“And no trips to Germany, alright? I’m sure you can hold off for another few months.” Daddy teases. Trucy sticks his tongue out at him and he ruffles her hair before going out the door. In a few months, she is going to actually get to go with Daddy on one of his trips to see Miles, a reconnection between the two of them since Trucy's own little trip a year ago.

As the door closes, Trucy runs over to the window and waits until she sees Daddy riding down the street on his bike, officially out of the building. Her homework is already done, most of it finished during class time and the rest of it finished up during recess and on her way home from school. Walking while writing had made her numbers come out a little odd, but it didn’t matter, because now she had hours and hours of time to work.

She stops by the fridge, staring up at the calendar. It’s four weeks away from the date circled in red, and two weeks from the date that sits ominously empty. It’s plenty of time, though.

Trucy makes a lap around the office, double-checking that the windows are locked just like Daddy does every time before leaving. Everything seems safe and sound, so she grabs her backpack and leaves, making sure she has the spare key and locking the door behind her. Daddy won’t be home until late, but she’s still going to make care to be home with plenty of time to spare. The meer idea of putting him through the same fear of last year sits in her chest like a promise.

It’s a few bus-stops to get to Gummy and Maggey’s house. They’re both out at the moment, so Trucy finds the spare key in the fake rock and lets herself in. She’s spent a lot of time over here by now, and the couple has spent alot of time over at the office, the big and towering man she’d met at the airport transforming into a familiar and lovable family friend.

She skips over to the closet, pulling out the supplies stuck in there. Streamers and confetti, magic wands and fake flowers, tumbling out from where Gummy had helped her shove them in last time. She looks down at the supplies and begins organizing it into the different acts that they’re associated with. There’s a lot of pieces, a lot to get over to the Wonder Bar eventually. Keeping so much of it over here makes it harder to practice back at home, but that’s kind of the point, even if it’s really annoying.

Gummy and Maggie came home after an hour, setting their things down and chatting about their day while Gummy starts dinner. The smell fills the house, warm and comforting. Trucy likes the Gumshoe house. It’s not too big, but not too small either. Gummy and Maggey used to clean it up before she came over, but they’ve stopped making that special little change for her, and so she gets to see it all lived in, a sock strewn here, a few dishes left out, pillows lying wherever they were last placed. Small things that make the place not a house but a home. She’s never had a home like this one, and oh there are sometimes where she’ll be lying on the couch and imagine what it would be like to stay here.

She knows she could.

Daddy has made it clear that if she ever felt dissatisfied with the cramped office, with him, all she has to do was say something. Gummy and Maggey have mentioned, before, that they’d be willing to take her in if anything ever happened to Daddy. Gummy had laughed about all the sorts of injuries Daddy tended to accrue, recounting a story about Daddy getting amnesia before a case - Trucy knew that one, she’d read it a bit ago.

Trucy doesn’t want to leave the cramped little office.

After dinner, Trucy uses Gummy’s phone. Gummy and Maggey know how to set up her stuff for a performance by now - they’ve already agreed to be her stage crew for the performance. While they’re doing that, Trucy calls up Aunty Maya.

“How’s my favorite magician doing?” Maya answers, and Trucy can hear the smile in her voice.

“Working on her next trick.” Trucy replies. Maya makes a humming sound.

“Well, things are going well on our end over here. Are you sure about the color? You don’t want to go darker?” Maya asked.

“Nope! It’s, well, there’s a reason for the shade.” Trucy says. She can hear Maya hum in understanding over the receiver.

“Well, I’m almost finished with it, although I’ll probably come up soon just to make sure everything is right. Pearly says hi, by the way.”

“Oh! Is she there?! Is she there?! Hi Pearls!” Trucy shouts over the phone and gets a distant and soft ‘hi Trucy!’.

“When I come down I’ll bring Pearly with me, don’t worry. If I didn’t,she might just run the whole way over there anyway!” Maya laughs and Trucy laughs along.

“If everything’s working out, then I’m gonna have to go. I need to make sure the rest of the show is ready to go!” Trucy says.

“Alright, alright, just say you’re afraid I’m going to start prattling on about the new season of Rubber Samurai. But you know there-”

“Love you Aunty Maya bye!” Trucy hits the end call button still chuckling to herself. She hopes that Aunty Maya makes true on her promise to come back down and to bring Pearls before the big day, but if she doesn’t then Trucy guesses she can wait that long, even if it’ll be agonizing.

She stares at the next number for a long long while before finally hitting the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before he picks up.

“Gumshoe, this had better be fucking import-”

“Hi, Miles!” Trucy chirps. There’s silence on the other end.

“... who is this?” Miles grumbles.

“Trucy Wright!”

“Trucy?!” Miles sounds a little more awake now.

“Yup!”

“Ms. Trucy… why are you calling me at… three in the morning?” Miles groans.

“Th… three in the… OH!” Trucy gasps, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. She’d completely forgotten to take into account time differences. “Oh my god, Miles, I’m so sorry, it’s pretty late here and-”

“It’s, it’s fine Ms. Trucy. Just tell me what you were calling about… from Gumshoe’s phone? Is your father alright?” Worry creeps into Miles voice.

“Oh, yes, Daddy’s fine! Daddy’s just at work right now, and I went over to Gummy and Maggey’s! We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and then we’re gonna play a card game, and then Gummy is gonna drive me back to the office ‘cause it’s all dark now!” Trucy says.

“Ms. Trucy, I don’t mean to sound rude, but again, it is three a.m. here…” Miles sighs.

“Right! Right, um… Mr. Edgeworth, do you think you could help me with a little something.”

“I’m going to need a bit more information than that.”

Trucy rattles off her little plan into the phone. Miles stays silent for the entire explanation, only grunting here and there to assure her that he is still awake and listening on the other end.

“... this is very short notice.” Miles says.

“Oh,” Says Trucy, looking down at her feet, “Well, that’s okay, I’m sure together, the rest of us-”

“I never said I wouldn’t do it, just that next time you’re planning something like This, please, tell me about it a little more ahead of time.”

“Okay! Yeah! Next time! And this time… you can do it?” She double checks.

“Yes, you can count on me, Ms. Trucy.”

“Thank you! Um, I’ll let you get back to sleep, thank you!”

Trucy skips back into the kitchen, where Gummy and Maggey have set up a board game. She still has her show to practice a bit more, and even now thinking about it she’s a little nervous, but she’s found she’s more excited. It’s coming together.

oOo

“Please, Daddy, please, come and see my show tonight? Pleaseeeee?”

Phoenix lets out a long sigh. Trucy is bouncing around in excitement in front of him. She’s already done her stage makeup, and he’d helped her put little weaving braids into her hair. Most of it will be covered up by her hat, but there are usually moments during the performance where the hat comes off, and so she needs to look amazing no matter what’s going on. Phoenix is fine to help her with this, but on today of all days, all he wants to do is sit in his office, read through old case files, and mourn what he has lost.

He was disbarred two years ago. That both feels like too much and not enough time. For the most part, he likes to think that he’s been coping with it well. He’s been working, and raising Trucy, and he’s had some other little things in the works, but on today of all days, it’s so hard to focus and not feel the ache of what was taken from him, of what he’s lost, of those who have come to his door in the past couple years looking for help and having to be turned away.

“Trucy, baby,” Phoenix starts, trying to let her down easy, but Trucy stomps her foot.

“No, Daddy, please, just, just come? To the show? Please?” She begs.

She’s been 'off' all week, too quiet and then too talkative in bursts that serve to confuse Phoenix. Now, there’s something almost akin to fear in her eyes, and it tugs at Phoenix’s heartstrings.

“Alright, sweetie, let me just,” He looks down at himself, still in sweatpants and a hoodie. He’d meant to get dressed today, but even now he’s struggling to find the energy to get into something better, and eventually he just says lamely, “Put some shoes on.”

He gets a pair of beat-up sneakers on and walks outside with Trucy, who is still vibrating with energy. He considers for a moment that perhaps he should buy a new pair of shoes, but then he sees Trucy’s cape, starting to look thread-bare in places and sitting so much shorter on her than it did two years ago. It used to fall to cover her almost completely in a mysterious sort of way, but now you can see her entire hands. Trucy has told him before it’d be fine, her cape had been too long anyway, but maybe he should start to consider how to get her something new and nice. Things for himself could be put off as long as they needed to be.

The ride down to the Wonder Bar is quiet between them, Trucy sitting on his handlebars with careful balance. The first five times they did it, Phoenix had been worried about her falling off or something, but now it was routine if they had anywhere they both had to be and didn’t have the time to puzzle through bus schedules or the budget for a taxi.

Phoenix recognizes some of the people in the Wonder Bar, and Mr. Wunderbar himself comes over and greets.

“Ah, Ms. Wright, so glad to see you! Your assistants are already backstage.” Mr. Wunderbar says. Phoenix’s brow furrows.

“Assistants? You mean the your staff?” Phoenix asks.

“Alright thanks Mr. Wunderbar Daddy find a seat love you bye!” Trucy says in one breath and runs over to the stage.

“This way, Mr. Wright. Trucy asked that we have a table upfront reserved just for you.” Mr. Wunderbar leads the way to one of the tables close to the stage, which does indeed have a a ‘Reserved’ marker on it. Phoenix feels suddenly self conscious in his outfit. He’d been planning to sit in the back, where nobody could see him, and he feels like everybody in the bar, waiting for Trucy to perform, are staring at him.

Mr. Wunderbar took his order and then slipped away. Phoenix drumms his fingers on the table, a cowardice sweeping through him with such force that he almost gets up and walks away. Something odd is going on, and it's making him even more nervous.

“Oh good, Trucy was really worried you wouldn’t show up.”

Phoenix jumps at the familiar voice, and spins around to see Maya and Pearls.

“Wh- hey, what are you two doing here?!” Phoenix jumps up and hugs both of them, “And especially what’s Pearls doing in here?”

“Mr. Wunderbar says that so long as nobody at our table orders drinks, he’ll allow it this once.” Maya says, sitting down, and Pearls sits on the other side of Phoenix, sandwiching him between the Fey’s.

“But why are you two-”

“Now Nick, do you really think we’d let you spend today on your own to mope?” Maya sets her hands on her hips. Phoenix looks away. He doesn’t point out that they didn’t last year, because it’s not their responsibility to look after him. Maya has her own life she’s living. She had texted and called him, though, regularly, throughout the day, at random intervals. She threatened that if he didn’t pick up any of the times, she’d be coming over right way, “I’ll admit, though, clearly we came mostly to see Trucy perform. Right Pearls?”

“Yeah! She’s so amazing, Mr. Nick! And we also had to bring the-” Pearls starts to say, but Maya puts a finger to her lips and shushes Pearls, who’s mouth slams shut.

“... alright, enough of this, what’s going on?” Phoenix asks more plainly.

“So she still hasn’t seen fit to tell you yet?”

And then, slipping into the fourth seat at the table, is Miles. Miles, in California, in the flesh, in the Wonderbar.

“M-Miles! What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter had a simple request, and I obliged.” Miles sniffs, “You look,” Miles regards Phoenix and Phoenix looks away, wishing he’d brought something to cover his head as well, “Alright, all things considered.” He ends.

“No need to sugar coat it, Miles.” Phoenix laughs bitterly.

“I’m not. You seem to forget you’re not the only one who has gone through some trying times.”

Before Phoenix can formulate anything to say to that, the lights in the bar dim. The curtain lifts, but there’s a sheet behind it, so that all once can see of Trucy is her silhouette.

“Now introducing… Trucy Gramraye!” The announcer booms, and there’s some applause, even though nothing’s happened yet, Trucy still not seen.

“There are times that we, in life, come to a crossroads,” Trucy’s voice booms through the speakers over a mystical sounding soundtrack, “ Where we our lives take sudden changes.”

Oh, Phoenix thinks, heart plummeting to the bottom of his stomach, a theory forming in his mind, She wanted me here for her Last Show. Did something happen that made her want to stop being a magician? He’s tried to be supportive, even though he’s had some trouble keeping track of the supplies she needs, and how to help her out, with her teaching him far more than he can possibly teach her about this stuff. He’s offered to get in touch with Max Galactica, but Trucy had made it plain her opinion of that magician.

“Sometimes, you need to say things. And sometimes actions - and appreances - speak louder than words.”

Phoenix almost wants to stand up, to shout at her that no, he doesn’t want her to give up her magic just because she thinks it’s going to make him happy, but he’s frozen in his seat as the sheet of paper hiding his daughter from view is torn through and fog comes rolling out… but she’s not there.

In a puff of smoke, Trucy appears on top of his table. She winks down at him, the spot light finding her.

Her red hat and cape and bag are all gone, replaced by pale blue versions. New, lovingly crafted, and Trucy puts her hands above her head in a pose.

“I am Trucy Gramarye, but your little witch in red is now a magician in blue. Sorry if I startled anybody by coming… out of the blue like that?” Trucy says. She smiles, twirls around, and in another puff of smoke she’s gone. The room goes dark.

The spotlight finds her back on the stage, still in the strange blue uniform.

“Wh-what- when did she-”

“You know, in Kurain, we have to make all our own clothes.” Maya says with a mischievous little smirk.

“You mean you-”

“She wanted to put together something to make sure you weren’t too sad today.” Maya explains, smiling.

Phoenix does his best not to cry so that he doesn’t miss any bit of the show.

When it’s done, Mr. Wunderbar brings over another chair and Trucy sits with them. Phoenix spends the evening surrounded by his friends, by his family, and staring at Trucy’s new outfit. Blue, just like his old suit, he thinks.

“Do you like it?” She asks, surprisingly shyly, right before bed. Phoenix grins, picks her up, and twirls her around.

“You look amazing sweetie. You know, you didn’t have to go through all that just for me.”

“I didn’t do it just for you.” Trucy defends, “I did it because I wanted to! And because I love you!”

“I love you too Truce.”

Tomorrow morning, reality will set in again. He’ll have work, and maybe all the grief he was able to put off today will make a forceful comeback, but tonight he knows he’s loved, and that Trucy wants to be a part of his world, wants to be a part of his broken little family, and maybe that’s all that really matters in the end.

#ace attorney #wrightweek21 #phoenix wright #trucy wright #fanfic #fanfiction #browniefox speaks #browniefox writes

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