#but i might leave some of it for a next chapter
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I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 2
Sorry this update took a little longer, I had some personal stuff going on and my work schedule was pretty packed this week.
Also, this is a fix-it fic. It'll be following the events of the whole series so buckle in y'all.
Chapter warnings: Warnings: Mention of abuse/ trauma, one comment about weight in terms of said said abuse , minor blood
WC: 9.6K
Read the previous parts here
[prologue] [chapter 1]
“Rhys is the most handsome High Lord.” I read line after line of similar words. I rolled my eyes at my brother's antics.
“He’s sure laying it on thick.” I say as I sat down next to Feyre. She looks up from her writing and gives me a guarded laugh.
“At least I’m entertaining.” She huffs out.
“I can help you too, if you want. Give you a break from him.” She raises her eyebrow at me, studying me with a look that made me want to sink in on myself.
“Why?” She asks sharply
I willed my temper down. “Because despite what Tamlin might tell you, we’re not evil,” I spit out at her, she doesn’t flinch even slightly at the venom in my voice. “And you’re going to be here once a month for the foreseeable future. I’d like us to at least tolerate each other. Plus, it would piss off my brother.” Her eyes shone with mischief.
“You should have started with that.” And that was that. I pushed Rhys’ papers to the side and picked out a few books that had been my favorite. The plots are interesting enough to make up for the basic words used. Feyre caught on fairly easily. She could recognize almost all of the basic words but struggled to read them out loud. Not fully understanding how the sounds mashed together. We sat and read, and then when that got to be too much for her we just started talking. It was nothing deep, not really gossip either. Just casual words thrown back and forth until she asks out of the blue. “What’s the deal with Tamlin and Rhys?” I froze into stillness only fae possessed. Sensing my discomfort she backtracked. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her voice held a little edge of fear. I forced my shoulders to relax.
“No, you have every right to ask. It’s…complicated. You’re walking into centuries old distrust and unfortunately, are caught in the middle.” It wasn’t fair to her to be caught in all of this old shit. That was our baggage and I could see it was affecting her but she pressed on.
“But why do they hate each other so much?”
“I’m not the best person to ask.” She narrowed her eyes at my non-answer. I sighed. “We’ve both done some terrible things to each other's courts, the wounds run deep and that’s all I’ll tell you.”
“Why?” She would not let up.
“Because you love Tamlin. And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to ruin whatever picture you have of him.” That really seemed to pique her curiosity.
“You had a different experience with him?” It felt like she had punched me in the stomach. No. That’s the problem, I had the exact same experience with him and I ended up just as broken as I can see you’re becoming.
“That’s not a story for today.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice and maybe it was that, or the fear I know I couldn’t keep off of my face that made her drop the subject with a small, “okay”.
It was lunch time before we decided to take a break. “Do you want to eat here or go out with the others?”
“Rhys will just pull me out if I don’t.”
“My brother can fuck off. What do you want to do?” I saw a ghost of a smile twitch across her face. So we ate in the library. I left only long enough to stack up two plates full of food. Rhys took in the amount of food I was grabbing,
“Hungry today?” I only stuck my tongue out at him and walked back out of the room.
Rhys joined us a little after lunch. If he was surprised to still see me in here, he didn’t let it show. I didn’t leave until Feyre told me she was okay with me doing so.
It was probably overkill to be so protective of her, Rhys was the last person who would ever try to hurt her or anything like that but she was still uneasy around him. She hid it well with the sheer disdain she showed him but I could tell from the rigidness of her shoulders and that slight edge in her voice. But there was also something else there that I couldn’t put my finger on.
Feyre had stayed in the library long after their meeting. I found her hunched over another book, finger slowly tracing over the words. She hardly looked up as I placed another plate of food in front of her and went to walk out of the room. She didn’t call after me and I was okay with that. Scared she might start another round of questions.
I didn’t see much of her after that. So I traveled back and forth between Velaris. Spending half my time at the manor and the other half actually doing my job as researcher. I really didn’t have to work but it gave me something to fill up my days. Before Amarantha I spent most of my time helping Cassian manage the Illyrians, from the background of course. Being the High Lords sister did not save me from their views on females. So I only showed up when necessary, Azriel and Cassian always following behind me. They learned fast enough to keep their tongues in check if they wanted to keep them in their mouths.
Currently I was looking at old maps of Prythian. Combining through records for landscapes and t river patterns. Where the boundaries have shifted over time. And then came the daunting task of trying to pick out recountings of the old war. Figuring out who does best with what court. Prepping for the outcome we were all dreading, another war with Hybern.
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to get from these books.” Cassian said, absently flipping through the large leather bound book I had just placed to the side.
“Anything. Weakness, strengths, strategies, gods, anything.” I said leaning back. I knew I had to take a break, when I closed my eyes I could still see the words swirling in the blackness behind my eyelids. I took a deep breath and went to look at the giant map I had covered my desk with. Pins and markers to recount every movement during the last war.
“Do you really think that it’s going to help?” I know he wasn’t trying to be rude. His voice was soft when he asked and my shoulders sunk in slightly.
“I don’t know. But if it does…” He nodded in understanding. Azriel knocked lightly on the door, making both Cas and I jump. He had learned to knock now after he had to dodge out of the way of the book I had launched at him last week. I still haven't reaccustomed myself to how quiet his footsteps could be. A skill I had once prided myself on, I had even been able to pick up on those silent footsteps and find him before he wanted to be seen.
“Just wanted to remind you two to eat.” He looked at the books strewn across the table, taking note of the one Cassian was still flipping through, playing with truly. “I know how you can get when you’re focused. Time for food.” He smiled at the shy look I gave him from being called out. Many times he had to drag me out of my office when I really got into something. His smile made me think he was remembering those times too.
“If we go, will you two stop making eyes at each other?” Cassian spoke up, making me break away from Azriel’s stare.
“We were not.” I responded, trying to tame the blush in my cheeks. Get it together. I told myself as I forced myself to turn to Cas. His eye roll was the only answer I got. Azriel had already started walking down the hall and I slapped Cassian on the arm.
“You’re so annoying sometimes Cas.”
“And you love me for it.” He gave me a loud, wet peck on the cheek and gave a full head-thrown-back laugh when I made a big show of wiping it off.
I didn't return to the other house that night. Opting to stay with my friends. One of whom, Cassian, had gone into the wine cellar and returned with his arms almost full of the expensive bottles. I just laughed as he shot me a wink. I blew him a kiss back as I settled down on the couch besides Mor.
We didn’t bother getting glasses, passing the bottles around while we talked about absolutely nothing, acting like we had during our teenage years. It was later in the night before Rhys appeared in the living room. He took one look at all of us and rolled his eyes before he swiped the bottle out of my hand and brought it to his lips.
Mor and I were fully supporting each other's weight on the couch, I couldn’t tell who was leaning against who more but our giggles started to get louder and more frequent. She whispered to me so quietly I had to strain to hear her. “Stop staring at him.” And we fell into another fit of giggles.
She was right though, everytime Azriel talked I could feel how my eyes stayed locked on him. Reminding myself to breathe when he pulled the bottle to his lips. I pushed off of Mor and went to stand up, wobbling slightly as my feet touched the ground. Azriel made a move like he was going to catch me if I took a face first dive on the carpet but when I steadied myself, he moved back. It happened so fast I wonder if I imagined it.
“I think it’s bedtime.” I said, mouth feeling mushy as the words came out. Mor laughed again and I turned to face her and gave her a rude gesture. I offered that same hand to pull her up to her feet and she pouted before taking it. Everyone seemed to get the hint that it was late so all of us in our various drunken states started the climb up the stairs to our rooms. Good nights thrown through the hallways, Cassian all but screaming it to make sure Mor and I heard him. The sound made us flinch before laughing again as I closed the door to my room.
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Before I knew it Feyre’s week was officially up. She had demanded to be brought back home and I fought down the biting comments I wanted to make as Rhys agreed. I stepped besides the pair and she looked over to me for a brief second before pretending that neither of us existed.
“You don’t have to come with me. Rhys spoke into my mind and replied with a shake of my head. I could do this for Feyre. Despite every part of my body screaming at me for bringing her back to the Spring court, if she could be brave then so could I. He sighed at my stubbornness but knew that there was no changing my mind.
We weren’t going far. Simply dropping her at the border of spring and summer and making sure she got into the manor. I could manage that. Yet as we were getting ready to winnow in, I felt my hands go clammy. I remember me saying I’ll never go back there willingly.
The smell was the first thing that hit me. The overwhelming floral scent. I could smell the roses from the outside of the manor this far away, their sheer number coating the air with a smell that threatened to suffocate me on the spot.
“Goodbye, Feyre.” She had already started walking before he finished speaking, not sparing so much as a glance back to us. So we stood and watched her retreating figure until those wooden doors closed behind her. That was that.
We didn’t return to Hewn city, instead winnowing outside the townhome.
Rhys didn’t stay to greet our friends. Instead, he all but ran up the stairs to either go to his study or his room. Everyone gave me a tentative look before I shrugged and sprawled out on the couch besides Azriel.
He didn’t try to pull away from me. Instead, he lifted his hands from their spot on his lap. His way of telling me I could place my legs up so I didn’t have to sit awkwardly to avoid his wings. I did and I ignored how happy that little gesture made me. Over the last few weeks he seemed to be able to handle being around me again.
Cassian started rapid firing questions at me. What is she like? She threw what at Rhys? Anything for scraps of what their brother's mate was actually like. Sure they had gotten the story of her trials but this was different, getting to know who she actually was. Cassian seemed pleased to know she was still just as head strong. “Maybe someone will finally humble him a little.” He chuckled
Rhys spoke up as he entered the room. “Who’s humbling who?” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder. The only sign of how upset sending Feyre back had made him.
Cassian didn’t answer but instead asked “Did she really throw a shoe at you?” He laughed when Rhys shot me a dirty look. Answering the question for him. “I want to meet her.” Cassian said and I swore he was almost pouting.
Rhys sighed, “And have you scare her off.” Cassian looked hurt so Rhys added, “Let her get more adjusted to me before we add all of this into the mix. Besides, she cannot see Velaris. Not when…” not when she came back to Tamlin. Not when she could still spill every little secret of ours to one of our biggest enemies.
Cas looked like he wanted to argue but only said “Princess gets to see her.”
“Because I have a winning personality.” I smiled at him and he launched one of the small pillows from his chair at me. I managed to deflect it but as it bounced off my arm it hit Azriel square in the face. I bit down my laughter at his faux outraged face. He threw it back and before I knew it, they were yelling at each other, well Cas was yelling and Azriel was trying his hardest not to laugh.Sensing a fight was emanate, I pushed off of Azriel and spoke loudly over the two Illyrian males.
“Outside if you’re going to fight.” Even Armen, who had stalked into the room around as Rhys laughed at that.
Cassian turned to me, his temper still flaring. “We’re not dogs.”
“Last time you both fought in the house, I was cleaning up glass for a week.” I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to say otherwise.
Azriel spared Cassian from having to respond. “C’mon.” He said, pulling Cassian to what I could only assume was the training ring.
“I forgot how much you look like Rhys when you get bossy.” Cassian said as he was pulled from the room. And my responding gesture made the rest of the room go up in laughs. Rhys followed them out. Probably needing to get rid of his own tension and Armen had snuck back into the research room.
I didn’t have it in me to just stare at maps all day long, regardless of knowing how much I needed to. So I just stayed in the living room, a random book from the shelf pulled onto my lap.
Rhys came back first, hair only slightly disheveled, wings out proudly. “Once I get out of the bath, it’s time for your training.” I huffed and he could sense I was about to argue with him. “Cassian and Azriel told me you can’t use your powers.” Traitors. “So we’re going to figure out what the hel is wrong.”
Less than an hour later I was sitting in Rhys’ study. A small candle flickering in front of me, taunting me to snuff it out. I pulled and pulled for any of the small dark tendrils to do so but found nothing. Sweat was beginning to form on my brow with how hard I was concentrating.
Rhys huffed in frustration at my lack of progress. “It was easier teaching Feyre to read.”
“Then by all means, go back to that. I’d love to see her throw another shoe at you.” I bit back at him and he just rolled his eyes.
“Try again.” He went right back to business, ignoring my statement. I really did try. I Have been trying. That rich darkness that normally lingered under my skin seemed like it was hidden behind a wall. Just out of my grasp, so close I could almost taste it, almost touch it. I yelped as I reached out towards it. Pain flickering through my body as if it had burned me. Rhys’ hand on my shoulder snapped me out of whatever had happened. Sweat broke across my skin and I flinched as I felt my magic fight against the wall inside my head.
“What’s happening?” I spoke to my brother. He just stared at me before I felt a phantom knock at my mental shields. I forced them open and almost screamed at the pain that flooded through me. I knew the moment he found it. Felt that sickening thread of magic that never released when the spell broke for the other high lords. Rhys’ presence in my head retreated and we could only look at each other. No words to be found between us.
“Fuck.” The first word he uttered and I somehow found it in myself to laugh.
“That bad?”
“Good news is there’s not a physical block. No magic stopping you.” So why did he still look like death froze over? “Bad news, you’re the block.”
“Go on?”
“I don’t fully know but it looks like your magic is being tied up by your own magic.”
“So, you’re saying. I’m the problem?”
“I’ve been saying that your whole life but yes, especially in this case.” He teased, trying to lighten the new tension in the air. I bite
“Well then that simply means you’re going to be stuck with me a lot more. That or I go to Helion.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of the other high lord, one who has been trying for the last few centuries to get me into his bed.
“Maybe.” shit. It must be serious if he’s actually willing to let Helion help. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.” He says solemnly and points back to the candle. I stare at him for a moment before sighing and trying to cover the light again.
We sit as I try again and again and again. Nothing besides a small puff of black smoke to let us know that I’m even trying. Right as I’m about to say something I see Rhys flinch and his eyes flare with anger. Only not at me, his eyes look far away as that anger homes in on whatever must have made his shoulders tense.
I see his eyes come back into focus and I don’t even have to ask before he’s spilling. “He hurt her.” I don’t need him to say who. “I can tell it’s nothing serious but I got nothing but pure fear from her.” Rhys had already explained that the bargain amplified the usual effects of the mating bond. That he could sometimes get whiffs of any strong emotion from Feyre. Fear, anger, mostly fear but as her nightmares have started to fade I haven't heard much about it. My stomach curls and I try to will my hands to not shake as my mind drifts to the endless possibilities of what could have happened.
“It’ll be okay. She’s strong.” The words felt wrong in my mouth and Rhys said the very thing I had been thinking.
“You were strong.”
“Well you can’t very well march in there and get her.” I saw the look on his face. “You can’t, we can’t. And she still doesn’t want us. Unless it feels like that first time…” He shook his head. So not as bad. Still bad, still awful enough for her to send fear down the bond but not bad enough that Rhys could only hear her screaming for someone to get her out of there. So we both let it go, ignored the thoughts that told every part of us to go help this girl from whatever Tamlin was inflicting. But even I knew that Tamlin’s anger comes from his love. That anger so wrapped in fear that something will happen that he almost wills those incidents into existence.
We spend hours trying to break whatever block is in my head until I’m grumpy and all but biting his head off at every little comment he makes. He bites right back at me and I know there's no point in this anymore, both of us too on edge to do anything productive. Throwing his hands up in surrender he doesn’t stop me as I storm out of his study. I run head first into Azriel on my way to my room, his hands resting on my arms so I don’t topple over.
“Training went that well.” He says with a small chuckle. The noise sends a low growl from my throat and he takes his hands off of me. “We’ll figure this out.” He says and I continue my path to my room, not staying long enough to see the concern in his eyes.
I was still grumpy by the time that dinner rolled around but I managed to pull myself out of bed. My head is pounding from the strain and whatever Rhys did inside my mind. I throw on the first thing I find, still in my thin nightgown I pulled on after my bath, and head down to dinner. I don’t say much and not even Cassian tries to cheer me up, all he does is remind me that I’m joining them for training in the morning. I don’t respond with anything other than stabbing the chicken on my plate with extra force.
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I struck the center of the dummy and looked over for Cassian for any semblance of approval. He gave me a bored look and I stomped over to the stupid thing and pulled all three of the daggers out of it. Cas wanted me to get back up to snuff with long range before he put a sword in my hand again. I had never needed the sword that I kept strapped to my back on the missions I would accompany Azriel on, always having my powers to stop anyone from getting that close in the first place. Between Azriel shadows and my blanket of darkness, very rarely did we ever need anything more than truth teller.
I grunted in frustration as the sharp metal flew through my fingers time after time, all of them hitting the center of the target.
“Fuck this Cas, I did the warm ups, I did the exercises. Let me fight.” I needed to do something more than this. If I couldn’t use my powers, if they never came back, I needed to be useful. In no world would I just sit around and let my friends risk death while I sat around playing with my maps. Cassian must have heard the desperation in my voice because he agreed.
We circled each other and I got a rare glimpse of Cassian with no restraint. This was the war general that scared people just by being on the battlefield. I tried not to let the frision of fear show as he surveyed every inch of me, seemingly reading my body language like I was screaming my next moves at him. I didn’t stand a chance. His fist made contact with my nose before I could turn out of the way and I fell to the ground. My hand went up and when I pulled it back, my fingers were sticky with my blood. Cassian was instantly in front of me, mumbling out apologies. I held up my hand to stop him from talking.
“Cassian.” A stern voice called out as I ran my hand along my nose again, feeling for any breaks. “What did you do to her?” Azriel’s voice was full of concern as he knelt besides Cassian.
“Alright bat brains. I’m not dying,” I started to stand up and they both reached out their hands to help me up, I swatted them away and brushed off the dust on my pants. “It’s not the first time I’ve been too slow before, and it’s not going to be the last.” They both stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I still have to beat you Cas.” He shook his head laughing and Azriel shot him a glare.
Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, and never one to miss an opportunity to piss off Azriel, agreed to go back into the ring with me. He coached me through it this time, slowing down his punches to explain how to predict them and block them. All things that I knew but just needed more practice. By the end of the hour I was covered in sweat but I was able to block him without his guidance. Azriel didn’t leave either, hanging back to watch, adding his own little tips and tricks to help me get some advantage over Cassian but I still couldn’t get him to budge an inch.
“Do you want to get in with her then?” Cassian shouted to Azriel as he continued to assist me from the side lines. I made a motion for Cassian to stop as I tried to catch my breath. Placing my hands on my knees and sucking in screaming breaths.
“I think I’m done.” I panted out.
“If you wanted me to make you breathless princess, all you had to do was ask.” He winked and tossed a canteen full of water over to me. I drank half of it in one long gulp and forced myself to stand up straight. My muscles were already crying out in protest. Tomorrow was going to suck for sure.
The three of us walked back up to the house, laughing and joking and I felt proud of the progress I was making. Even if the dried blood still on my hands might have suggested otherwise.
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A month went by so fast, I had to tick off the days to make sure I was right.I woke up to Rhys preparing to collect Feyre from the spring court again. Rhys didn’t ask me to go with him this time, after that last flood of emotions he knew he would have a hard time containing himself let alone both of us.
I was already waiting at the house for when they got back, ready to play mediator if need be. They had barely materialized before my brother was fussing over Feyre. The two bickered back and forth but from the way she looked over herself, I knew even she could hear the worry in his voice. She had lost more weight since the last time she had been here. The shadows under her eyes creeped back onto her pale skin. “Eat breakfast with me.” He said and I shifted from my place in the living room. Mor was somewhere in the house after her visit to the Court of Nightmares yesterday. Probably still decompressing with the bottle of wine she took with her to bed.
I gave Feyre a small smile and she didn’t return it, but she didn’t glare at me either. It’s a step at least. The female in front of me gave a heavy sigh after weighing Rhys offer. The growl I heard come from her stomach seemed to make the decision for her. I didn’t follow them, if she had wanted me to I would have been able to tell. So I stayed close enough that I could swoop in and save her from my brother's overprotectiveness if need be. The glimpses of their conversation I caught weren’t the best but I stilled completely as I caught,
“I was tortured, beaten and fucked until only I could tell myself who I was, what I was protecting. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.” My heart ached at the words. He had had it so much worse than I did, regardless of what people might believe. I could see it on his face during some of his bad days, the scars of what Amarantha did to him. I didn’t listen to her response as I walked to my room.
I found Feyre the next day as I had the last time, hunched over the table with more lines from Rhys to read. She was copying them in better handwriting than she had before. When I approached she didn’t so much as look up at me. I called her name gently and still nothing. So I took that as my sign to let her be. Rhys had gotten called to the war camps later that day.
“Just look after her please. I know she’s fine but let me know if either of you need anything.” He blabbered as I all but pushed him out the door.
“We’ll be fine, you overprotective mother hen.” His face fell slightly and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’ll let you know if she needs anything, okay? Now go be a High Lord.” I saw a hint of a smile as he winnowed out of the house.
I tried to stay out of her way. Whatever bit of goodwill she had allowed me last time seemingly disappeared. So I kept bringing her books when she ran out of the ones Rhys had given her, brought her food and left her to her own devices. Today, she didn’t give me a glare as I sat down in the armchair on her left. I opened my own book without giving her a second glance. The small hmph she made was the only indication she had even noticed my presence. She didn’t want to talk and quite frankly, neither did I, perfectly content with getting lost in our own books.
It was around midday and the sun was just starting to peek through the heavy curtains of the library when I felt Rhys appear in the room. In his hands were trays of food which he presented to Feyre. A small thank you left her lips and I wanted to smack that smug look on Rhys face as he teased her. But then I saw his face get serious and I suddenly felt very much like I was intruding on a private moment. “Tell me how I can help you.” His voice was scratchy and I knew he was trying to hold back tears, to keep the conversation casual enough that she wouldn’t shut him out again. I truly did try to tune them out but these were the same things I had been wanting to say to her all week but couldn’t find the strength.
“If you fall apart then the bitch wins. All of that is for nothing and she wins.” Rhys said plainly and Feyre flinched before going back to her book. I could tell that she was talking to him in her mind. My eyes grew wide when I saw that slight layer of frost cover the book cover. Rhys barely had time to dodge said book as it was thrown right at his head. It bounced harmlessly to the floor and I stifled a laugh. The laugh died in my throat when I saw the flicker of flames in her palms and I tried to reach my mind out to Rhys, he all but threw me out.
Feyre and Rhys left later that day. I didn’t offer to come with, didn’t want to come with. Just like last time when Rhys returned to Velaris, he stalked to his office and hid out for the rest of the evening. I only got close enough to the door to leave a plate of food outside before retreating back to my side of the house. His emotions pouring through the door were enough to give me a headache, the way it felt like I was walking into a brick wall. I didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. Instead choosing to pull my attention back to the map in my study.
I had been neglecting it to focus on Feyre and Rhys but I knew it’s just because I wasn’t getting anywhere. No matter how many books I read, I couldn’t think of anything that would help us win this war. Not without all seven courts working together and I knew Hel would freeze over before that ever happened.
So I read until my eyes became blurry and heavy. My head had gotten so heavy like the words were getting stuck and wouldn’t leave. When I felt my eyes starting to close and knocking on the door jostled me awake. I saw the shadows before I saw him, too tired to notice that they had time to take in my current state and report back to Az.
“You should take a break.” He said as he went to pull up a chair at the table I was sitting at.
“I can’t take a break when I haven’t found anything yet.” I whined at him. “I’m supposed to be good at this, I am good at this. Or at least I was.” I slumped in my chair and I saw that familiar look of concern flash through his warm amber eyes. He sat there, I could almost see the gears in his brain turning, his shadows starting to swirl around the floor like soothing waves. I stared at them and felt my mind calm slightly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, wings flapping behind him.
We just sat there in silence for a few moments and then he stood up suddenly. My eyes tracked the movement, following his arm as he extended a hand to me. It was like my brain short circuited at the gesture. He had to clear his throat before I snapped out of it and I timidly placed my hand in his. He led me out of my office and I felt his shadows on my heels. “Where are we going?” I laughed at how ridiculous this must look, one of the fiercest Illyrian warriors towing someone behind him like an excited kid.
“Just be quiet. You’ll know when we get there.” His own voice full of an almost giddy excitement. So I let him pull me along. All the way outside until it clicked. There was a little patch of grass beside the Sidra that I loved to sit by when the weather was just starting to turn warm. Our little group used to spend free days out on that field, just soaking in the warmth. He gave me a proud smirk when we finally reached that stretch of grass. “Now, you’re going to sit and just enjoy being out here.”
“Is that an order?” I teased and he didn’t miss a beat.
“If that means you’ll actually do it, then yes.” I sat and looked out over the river. The lights and sounds of the city walk could just trickle in, becoming a lovely hum in the back of my mind. I patted the spot next to me and Azriel sat beside me. I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. Just looking at the city I loved so much. We didn’t talk, Azriel was always good for that. He knew when I needed the quiet. The sound of the small waves helped clear my head and after a while I felt my shoulders sink down, the tension lightening. It was still there of course but became more manageable as I could smell the water and Azriel’s pine and fresh air scent. It wrapped its way around me and held me like my favorite blanket.
“Thank you.” I said, breaking the comfortable silence. We didn’t look at each other, still staring out at the city just ahead.
“Of course. Anything for you,” He cleared his throat, “For one of my friends.” I bit down the string at that little word. I fought the urge to put some distance between us at the feeling that flooded me. The cruel reminder of just exactly how he saw me. So I just pulled my legs in tighter and ignored all the thoughts of him that began to take over.
We didn’t head back to the house until sundown. The pair of us walked under the flickering faelights that lined the streets. It still blows my mind how much the city changed while I was gone. I told him that much. And he shrugged off the tiny complement.
“Rhys and I will never be able to thank you enough for how much you all did while we were…gone.” My voice felt tight as I finished, “You kept our home safe when we couldn’t.” He turned to look at me and went to say something but stopped himself. His face looked slightly pained, in that concerned way he always managed. He shook his head slightly.
“You did more than we ever could. You and Rhys gave us a chance to have something to protect in the first place.” In his words, I was pulled back to that night when it had all gone to shit. How Cassian and Azriel were out dealing with the camps and how I couldn’t convince Rhys not to go so I insisted that I come along. I had to beg him to let me come with him and he still wasn’t happy about it. We walked right into a trap and before most of his power had been ripped away from him he wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone who was under the mountain and let our friends know what was happening, how they couldn’t come after us without leaving Velaris unguarded.
Azriel’s small nudge to my shoulder pulled me back to the present and his eyes asked the question before he needed to.
“I’m okay.” But I felt how my arms had wrapped around myself but he didn’t say anything about it, letting me have my space. We reached the house again and I could hear Cassian and Mor’s voices floating down the hallway. The sound alone plastered a smile on my face. Azriel followed behind me as I rounded the corner and Cassian all but cheered when he saw me. “There you are princess, we went to pull you out of your study but it seems someone beat us to it.” He gave me a small wink and I laughed at the joke behind it. I shook my head as I sat down next to Mor who was already pouring me a glass of wine.
Rhys spoke to me across the table, “I peaked in and saw the map, tomorrow if you’re up for it I want all of us to go over it.” I nodded and he smiled at me. And we all ate and joked and I left the love I felt for the people in the room washed over me like the waves in the Sidra.
---------------------
“So if it comes down to war. Who do we have?” Rhys turned to Cassian and myself. We were all sitting around the map I had been working on, face grim as I explained the various markings.
“The Illyrians don’t have a choice. The court of nightmares should. We kept up pretty well with Dawn and Day. Winter…” His voice trailed off. I still remember Kallias’ face as the news broke of the attack on Winter. The thousands of babes dead by Amarantha’s hand. The pure loathing his face held as he looked at Rhys.
“I can talk to them.” I had always liked Kallias. And from the little bit I’ve heard since our return home, he finally married Viviane after being friends since childhood. Viviane was sweet and her, Mor and I had been known to get ourselves in trouble when together. If she would listen, Winter would come around.
“Autumn and Spring are lost causes.” Cassian sighed beside me, slumping down in his chair.
“Tamlin is delusional enough to think it would keep him safe.” And keep Feyre safe. But I didn’t say that outloud. “Beron is…well Beron. Unless we think we can pursue one of the brothers to take him out of the equation, I think it’s better to not plan for them.”
“Summer?” Rhys asked pointedly ignoring Cas’ words on the other seasonal courts.
“Tarquin is new and young. He’ll side with the majority. But I think I could talk to him and at least see where his loyalties lie.” I had only talked to the new high lord a few times during our time under the mountain. He seemed nice enough, one of the few people who was even willing to talk to me at all. No fear of the role I had been forced into and hoped he would side with us. Hoped his newness wouldn’t scare him into the easy choice.”
“I don’t like the idea of having two courts fighting against us.” Azriel finally spoke up. I had almost forgotten he was in the room but his shadow currently sitting at my feet should have been reminder enough. “Hybern has the armies he needs and if he has the cauldron….”
“So what do you suggest?” My brother asked, head in his hands.
“We talk to them. Let them know that we won’t win this if we’re not unified. Remind them that we fought a war once to avoid this very thing and some courts were on the wrong side of history then and would be now.” I spoke plainly, it was the only answer. If it had been anyone else the idea would have been shot down. But Rhys just let out a heavy breath and nodded.
“We’ll wait until we’re sure. Some courts will refuse to believe there will be a war until it’s staring them in the face.” The tone in Rhys’ voice letting us know this meeting was over. We all stayed in the room, the same exhausted look sat on our faces. “Good work.” Rhys said to me as he studied the map again. “You got all of this from books?” I had been too young to remember most of the war, let alone fight in it. But at least someone had thought it smart to recount all of it in very exact detail, I just managed to translate to current day Prythian. Rhys was silently nodding to himself as he really studied the map. The others slowly filter out of the room, leaving Rhys and I alone studying the map.
“And these?” He pointed to the orange marks I had drawn all over.
“Trade agreement routes, the thicker the line, the more movement there is through that path. They would be the most vulnerable areas since people know them so well. They’re also normally the quickest way between courts.” I pointed out more of the lines and pins. I had so much marked off, down to what ways the rivers flowed and where their currents changed. Rhys just drank in all the information I threw at him, only nodding along to the explanations. I was about to start on another part of the map before I saw his face freeze.
Rhys had completely stilled besides me. That all-too-familiar far-away look on his. When I raised my eyebrow at him, “What is it? Is it…” He didn’t wait for me to finish, instead he let me into his mind and I almost flinched at whatever feeling Feyre was sending him. The crushing agony and pure terror. It was a feeling I knew all too well. These weren't the few stray glimpses Feyre had sent him while they were separated. This was the very thing all of us were holding our breath for, hoping it never happened.
“Rhys we can’t just ignore it this time.” I spoke, already leaving the table. His hand wrapped around my wrist, making me pause.
“If you storm in there, Tamlin has every right to declare a war.”
“And we’ll have every right to kill his sorry ass. Something that we could have done decades ago.” I spit back at my brother.
“Please.” His voice shook with fear. Scared for Feyre and maybe for me. I put my hands up in surrender. I couldn’t argue against the tone in his voice.
“So how do you want to do this then?” I asked him and we started planning.
In less than 10 minutes Mor had winnowed right on the border of spring and summer. Rhys had insisted that she come along to help. Her status would help blanket us from any repercussions. Plus her powers would come in handy if any of the guards found us. So her and I snuck into that manor I had sworn I would never see again. Do it for Feyre. Be brave for her. I said to myself as my own terror rose to a fever pitch.
I could see the darkness already pouring out of the house. My anger quickly turned into fear. What did he do to her? The voice in my head screamed. Rhys had already broken the wards and whatever was locking her inside the house. Mor knocked out the guards before they could spot us. When we finally entered the house my blood ran cold. Sitting in a ball of inky darkness was Feyre. Her screams pierced something deep inside of me. I looked around and locked eyes with Alis. Her eyes wide as she took in my face.
“He locked her in the house. I tried to…Please just keep her safe.” Was all the older fae had said to me.
My heart warmed at the concern in her voice. The same concern she had once shown me. I nodded and walked towards Feyre. Whatever darkness she was wielding seemed to only be for her and as I shook her shoulder, gently saying her name they retreated slightly. I looked over to Mor who only gave me a small nod. Taking her cue, I picked up the shaking female and was startled by how light she felt. Mor spoke up from beside me. “Your guards are going to have a hell of a headache when they wake up.”
Alis nodded in understanding and I added. “Don’t tell him where we took her. Please.” And for a second I felt just as broken as the female in my arms. I knew she would tell him, and would have to tell him but a small part of me wished she wouldn’t. But that was unfair to expect of her. It reminded me too much of the same hope I had when I left. Face sunken in and heart broken as I begged her to not tell Tamlin I was leaving. No one was there to help me and I’ll be damned if Feyre ever felt that pain. I didn’t say another word as Mor winnowed us right in front of the border. It felt like I could finally breathe again as the scent shifted to ripe fruit and salt water that marked us as safe. Marked us in summer. Feyre shifted in my arms and mumbled something softly.
Mor soothed a hand through her hair. “You’re free.”
Rhys quickly scoped Feyre from my arms without so much as a word. He looked at Mor and I
“We did everything by the book.” Rhys nodded before I felt the air whoosh around my ears and I knew we had made it home. Rhys deftly climbed the stairs to take Feyre to her room and I just stood staring at my brother back. I blocked out the memories that began to rise to the surface. The scar on my arm prickled and when my other hand raised to scratch at the angry white lines that trailed down my forearm, Mors hand wrapped against mine. Grounding me in the present.
“She’s free.” She repeated to me.
“Thank the mother.” I responded as I started to climb the stairs suddenly bone tired.
Feyre didn’t emerge from her room that night or the next morning. More than once I found myself standing outside her door, hand held up to knock but some part of my brain told me not to. Rhys hasn't left her side the whole time she was asleep. Whatever magic she had used in the house had exhausted her and I felt my heart pang for her. How alone she must have felt, how scared she must have been to be locked in that house. I remember my simple panic the first time I went to the basement of the townhouse. How it transported me back to under the mountain, I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be locked away again.
When I finally did see her, she seemed to have gotten a little color back. Enough so that she was able to argue with Rhys again. I didn’t linger this time to hear the fight, letting them duke it out in private. But as Rhys turned the corner, I knew something that happened. Something important.
”We’re going home.”
If someone had told me two months ago that Feyre would be standing in the living room of our home in Velaris I would have probably keeled over laughing. But here we were, Feyre’s eyes flickering from spot to spot in the house. I couldn’t get a read on her face but before I could even process that, I heard a pounding on the door. Cassian’s voice filtering through the wood, already complaining. Rhys shot me a look that said deal with them please. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was waiting for Feyre’s reaction to her surroundings. A hint of anything to gauge how she was feeling. He needed her to like this place like he needed to breathe. So I excused myself from the room and slipped out the front door.
”Are you serious Cas?”
”I want to meet her. She’s right there, my brothers m-” I cut him off, blocking both him and Azriel from trying to peek into the house. They could easily push right past me but stayed a healthy distance.
”Do not finish that sentence. Do you want all of Velaris to know?” I whispered screamed at him and he rolled his eyes.
”I promise you drama queen, no one’s up this early. I don’t want to be up this early.”
After a few minutes of us bickering back and forth, Rhys opened the door and said to us, “Are you all just going to stand there?”
Cassian all but trampled me trying to get in the house. I laughed when I saw his crestfallen face as he noticed Feyre was no longer in the room. “She was here right?” He spoke to the room.
”Maybe she’s scared of your good looks Cas, can’t have her falling in love with the wrong Illyrian bastard now can we?” I shot Rhys a wink and he growled lightly.
”She’ll meet you when she’s ready.” Was all he said before he rangled all of us into the dining room.
Feyre slept for the rest of the morning. She came down the stairs dressed in Night Court clothes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way they seemed to compliment her well enough and I had to bite my tongue to prevent me from pointing that out. Rhys met her at the door and shot me a vulgar gesture at my sugary sweet, “Be safe kids.” That I called out from my spot on the couch. I sat on the couch until the sun started to set. I had just got to the good part and debated even going to the dinner at all but I was dying to see how Feyre would handle our crazy family. If she had any chance at surviving here, she needed to like them or they would drive her crazy. Although from Cassian’s earlier words that might be the case either way. So I groaned and pulled myself off the couch, pulling on the first thing that I saw and winnowed with Mor to the front steps of the house.
Azriel and Cassian were waiting to fly us up. Cassian wrapped his arm around Mor’s waist and Azriel did the same to me. I hardly felt my feet leave the ground before he was already placing me down in front of the door. I had not had the heart to come here since I’ve been home. Too many memories for me to want to come alone and Mor grabbed my hand as she pulled me through the threshold. We had just settled in before I heard the faint trails of Rhys and Feyre voices outside the door. I couldn’t stop the two males from bounding to the door, they flung it open to reveal a very annoyed looking Rhys. I held my breath as she stood in the doorway, eyes searching for something and she landed on me. She squared her shoulders but Cassian was already speaking.
”I promise we won't bite.”
Last I heard, Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” And I laughed as Feyre’s face blanched. I didn’t miss the way the female's eyes raked over the Illyrians as they stepped into the light. I tried not the bristle as her eyes lingered on Azriel just a fraction longer than I would have liked. Rhys introduced the two and it was Feyres response to one of his questions that made me feel a frision of pride.
”How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” She would fit right in and Cassian’s booming laugh told me that very same thing. Armen had appeared almost out of thin air as we all made our way to the table.
Feyre was slowly filled in about how the three brothers had met. Her eyes flickered to me during the story.
”Where do you fit into all of this, besides being his sister.” She quickly added. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to answer.
”I mean there's not much else to it besides that. He got stuck with them so I did too. I nearly knocked Cassian's teeth in the first time I met him and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.” I stuck my tongue out at Cassian who rolled his eyes.
”You mean you broke your fist trying to, princess. I had to nurse you back to health and you were helpless but to fall for my charm.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes and I fought the urge to throw my bread across the table at him. If it wasn't for Feyre I would have. The rest of the stories and tales flowed out and, much to Feyre’s credit, she didn’t falter in the slightest. She interjected at the perfect moments, making jokes that had everyone roaring with laughter. Then the tables were turned onto her and Cassian was asking her about her life. After she had finished she turned to Rhys.
’I accept your offer- to work with you.” And I wanted to scream and cheer. I felt no such joy from Rhys as he started.
”Good because we start tomorrow. Hybern is starting this war and he’s going to bring back Jurian to help him.” I felt a shiver run down my back. Rhys had neglected to tell me that part. In an instant the lighthearted conversation was thrown to the side and Cassian launched into full general mode.
I tried my best to keep up with this new bit of information, how it would throw a wrench into any attempts of a plan. I missed the conversation that followed, mind already trying to figure out the adjustments I would need to make to the map in my office. Armen managed to snap me out of my thinking.
”The Bone Carver might indeed be willing to talk to her.” She pointed a finger at Feyre and I went to argue against the ancient female. Rhy had beaten me to it.
”Your choice, always your choice, Feyre.” and I tried to keep the fear off my face as she answered.
”How bad could it be.” Cassians’ answer had her face pale as a ghost and it was clear dinner was over at that moment. The others reduced to arguing over the semantics and who would be doing what in preparation for their journey to the prison. My eyes suddenly felt very heavy at the sounds of their voices. Azriel’s gentle hand on my shoulder was the sign that the arguing had stopped at all. I didn’t need to be asked a second time and as he flew me back down to the ground below Velaris, I wondered if all of us would make it through the war a second time.
Taglist: @durgenyx @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx
#acomaf#acosf#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acowar#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#a court of thorns and roses#azriel x oc#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#inner circle#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#rhysand#feysand#rhys!sister
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K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 5B
Part 5 of the "B side" universe for AU4. You can check chapter 4B for clarification on what this means if you're lost, lol.
K&J masterlist
MMSS masterlist
K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist
To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday
Warnings: Blood, aftermath of torture, suicide attempt
***
Jim comes down the next day with a light knock on the wall. "Valen? How're you doing?" He hopes Valen's healed some. That maybe the blood that's made him such a desirable victim finally did some good. "You sleep well?"
Valen pokes his head out from under the blanket sleepily. He is starting to look a bit better. He nods fuzzily, not coming out from his nest.
"Good, good. I'm real glad. Lookin' better, too. You'll be all better in no time. So, my sister and her friend are both coming over today to give you some more blood, do you remember them? From when you dropped me off?" Jim's hoping the fact that Valen knows they're hunters won't scare him, but he's met them before and they didn't hurt him, so hopefully it'll be okay.
Valen perks up. More blood? Truthfully, no, he doesn't remember them, but he's so excited about getting more blood. He nods, eyes shining. Yes, more blood, please.
"Great! How about in the meantime, you can grab a bath, and I'll bandage up whatever's still not feeling great. Liz is also gonna take all the silver shit and the outside lock off the door, so you won't have to worry about that while you're staying here. You wanna grab your other clothes and come upstairs? I already closed all the blinds and curtains last night." Jim informs him.
Valen is feeling so much more hopeful than last night. He's rested, and fed--even if he probably shouldn't have done that part, and he has clothes, and oh, he gets to take a bath. He still can't move very fast, but he excitedly gets up to follow Jim upstairs.
Jim makes sure to grab the writing things before leading Valen up to the bathroom. "Alright, here we are. I'm leaving your writing stuff right out here so you can grab it on your way out. Come out to the living room whenever you're done." He's so glad Valen seems to be in better spirits today.
Valen has a real bath, his first in years. Not a freezing cold spraydown with a hose. It's wonderful and warm, and he gets himself clean. He's starting to let himself believe that maybe good things can happen to him again. He washes his raw face and bloody, skinned wrists gently.
When he's done, he steps out of the tub and pats himself dry with the towel provided, then dresses himself. They're his clothes. It's grounding and humanizing in a way he hadn't thought of. They're his clothes, from the before times, being given back to him, to pull him back up to earth. These are Valen's clothes, and he's wearing them, so he must be Valen.
Valen combs his wet hair with his fingers, looking at himself in the mirror, and goes out into the living room.
"Looking awesome, bud. C'mon and let's get you wrapped up." Jim pats the couch, gauze already in hand. "Just your face and your wrists, or anything else too?"
Valen pats himself down, but they'd been leaving him fresh for his new warden, so his wrists and face are pretty much the only things that need to be wrapped up. The only other thing that hurts currently is his stomach, still far too hungry to be comfortable, but even that's lessening.
Valen sits down on the couch, touching his face, his wrists, and then giving a thumbs up. He wants to smile, but with the state of his face, that would probably just look worse, if anything.
"Gotcha." Jim gently bandages both, making sure to leave an opening for Valen's mouth so he can eat later. When was the last time Valen was touched gently? He knows how it feels to ache for the kind touch of another person. "Do you think you could handle a hug?" he asks when he's done, knowing it might be pushing it in his starved state.
Valen's watery eyes light up. A hug, a hug, yes, yes, yes. He wants one so bad. He can't bite if he wants the muzzle to stay off, he has to not bite. He vibrates on the couch, extending his arms feebly. Yes, yes, please, hug, hug.
Jim is scared. Valen may mean well, but he's also a vampire, and being bitten on the wrist was bad enough. But he needs to give his guy a hug so bad. He reminds himself he can always push Valen away if he needs to, like he did yesterday. This isn't Kane. He's had 10 years to get over it, he should be better by now.
He enters Valen's arms, wrapping his own around his thin frame in a warm embrace. "I've got you. Everything's gonna be okay. Promise."
Thank you, thank you, thank you. He leans into the hug, vibrating, excited. Jim is so warm, and so welcoming, and so soft, and so vulnerable, and so, so, so delicious-smelling-
Before he even realizes what he's doing, he's bitten down in the crook of Jim's neck. As soon as his mouth floods with the taste of blood once again, he remembers he has to not bite and pulls away, falling off the couch and to the floor, whining.
Jim freezes up and goes quiet again. It's on the wrong side, because he would never let anyone's face get close to his scar, and the fabric of his turtleneck wets with blood. He trembles and cries, sitting there on the couch completely tense, letting out soft sobs.
Valen sobs too. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He'd even fed already, yesterday, and he still hadn't been able to resist biting. He's ruined it, and maybe he'll be punished, but even worse, he probably won't be hugged again. He half-stumbles, half-crawls over to where the writing materials are and quickly scribbles out I'm sorry, and holds it up to Jim. He stays on his knees, holding it in front of his face with trembling hands.
Jim takes a good minute to get to a state where he can respond. It helps that he was expecting this might be a possibility, it's not out of the blue like the first one. He took a risk and it failed.
He reminds himself he's okay. He's not very hurt. He's not food, Valen stopped, he's not being taken back. It was just a bite. He used to do this every day and it was worse, then.
He takes a deep breath and looks over to Valen, crying holding up a sign reading I'm sorry with shaking hands.
"It's- it's not your fault." Jim says quietly. "B-bad call. On me. I'm just gonna change shirts and take a breather real quick, okay?" He grabs the medical supplies he'd just used on Valen and scurries away to his bedroom.
Valen watches him go with despair. Everything had been going so well. Jim said it's not his fault, but his sister is coming over, and maybe she and her friend won't be so nonchalant. And he wouldn't get any more hugs, now.
Still crying, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and pulls it over himself, curling up in a ball and hiding himself under a nearby chair.
Jim dresses the wound, changes his shirt, and tries his best to calm down. He returns downstairs about 10 minutes later, much more calm. He got bit and everything's still okay.
It's apparent that Valen has not spent their time apart calming down. Jim sits back on the couch. "Hey, you're okay, Valen. Everything's still okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can stay there if it makes you feel safer, but nothing bad's gonna happen if you come out. We're all good. More than good."
Valen peeks out from the blanket. Jim looks okay. He crawls over to the coffee table, taking his pencil in an unsteady hand and writing Thank you for the hug I hope we can hug again sometime when it's safe and then sliding it over to Jim. He then crawls back under the chair, not panicking or trembling, but still feeling more secure balled up and tucked away
"Yeah. Yeah, man, just, I'm gonna need a little. You know what, though? Laken loves hugs. Maybe you can ask them for one after you feed from them." Jim suggests. "Sorry for freaking out. I've just got baggage about bites."
He smiles a little, remembering something. "You know, when you picked me up that day, I thought for a minute you were gonna make me your bloodbag. Y'know, before that was cleared up. And you know what I thought about it? Honest to god? 'Oh, this won't be so bad.' You were so nice that was what I thought about potentially being kidnapped a second time."
Valen lowers the blanket from his head, eyebrows raised. Really? Maybe Valen really had used to be a really nice person, one who could hug people without biting. He mourns the loss, averting his eyes, keeping them on Jim's feet.
Valen hears them approaching before Jim does, two humans. There's a knock.
"That's gotta be them." Jim says as he gets up to answer the door. He makes sure the sun won't shine near Valen before opening it all the way.
After they all exchange greetings, Liz asks, "Where is he?"
"Hiding under the chair. He's real easily spooked. Be gentle with him." Jim says. "C'mon in. Valen, you wanna come out? Liz and Laken are gonna give you some blood."
Valen crawls out tentatively. There being multiple humans in the room is scary, and he barely remembers these new ones. He'd been scared of Jim before, but now that he's more scared of the newcomers, Jim feels very safe. Valen kneels behind Jim's calves, poking his head out from behind the human to look at Liz and Laken. But not making eye contact. No, never eye contact.
"Hi, Valen." Liz says softly, heartbroken by the sight before her. Hunters did this. To Valen, of all vampires. The one who gave her her brother back. She speaks as if Valen will break if she talks too loudly. "I'm Liz, if you remember. It's nice to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances. How are you feeling?"
"Sup." Laken adds with a friendly wave. "I'm Laken, Liz's hunting partner. You ready to get your blood on?"
Valen looks at Liz's hands, which is as close as he dares get to the face, and nods when she asks him how he's feeling.
You ready to get your blood on? Why can't these humans just talk normally, so he doesn't have to anxiously second-guess what they mean? Laken means they're going to feed him, right? That's right, they'd said they were going to give him more blood, right?
He moves himself up into a crouching position, daring to look a little excited.
Wait, back up. His sluggish brain hadn’t processed what they were saying.
A haze falls over Valen's brain as he looks at Laken again, processing what they’re saying. Hunting partner, they'd said hunting partner, right? Are...Are Liz and Laken vampire hunters?
Then he does remember that, fuzzily, that when he'd come to hand Jim off, Liz and Laken and two other vampire hunters had been there. Hunters, hunters, hunters, that's right, they're hunters.
He drops back down onto all fours, cowering behind Jim and whining in fear. Jim will protect him, right? Jim said he wouldn't hurt him.
"Oh, hey, Valen, you're okay. You already knew that, you said you remembered them?" Jim says, confused.
Liz goes to step forward, but Laken grabs her hand and shakes their head. "Space."
Liz nods, staying where she is as she speaks to Valen. "We're not going to hurt you. You- I owe you everything, Valen. You gave me my family back. Plus, what those sorry excuses for hunters did would be fucked up either way. You're safe here."
"It's all good, man. You seemed pretty excited about blood, right? I'll go first." Laken offers, crouching and holding their arm out to Valen. "Don't even worry about it."
Is Laken telling him to bite them? That can't be right. They're hunters. Hunters, hunters, hunters. He tries to listen to what Liz is kindly saying about owing him, but it feels like he's scrambling to try and climb a slippery staircase to fight upstream and internalize what she's saying. His eyes dilate with fear as Laken holds their arm out to him, and he shuffles backwards a little bit.
He gropes at the table for his notepad and pen, and he quickly scribbles out Biting is bad I won't bite again I'm sorry I won't bite again Im sorry I know better, underlining and circling words and phrases seemingly randomly to emphasize.
"No, Valen, it's okay. You've got permission this time, it's fine." Jim assures.
Liz puts 2 and 2 together from the this time, her eyebrows raising. "He bit you?"
"Yeah, it's not a big deal. He's trying his best." Jim smiles down at Valen. "No one's mad at you."
"Yeah, c'mon. I wouldn't pull the rug out from under you like that. You can go ahead." Laken encourages.
"It's allowed." Jim adds.
Valen presses himself into the wall away from Laken, shaking with terror, still looking at Liz, that surprised He bit you? still hanging threateningly in the air in his mind.
"Why don't you guys give us a minute? Maybe you can go work on the door?" Jim suggests.
"Alright." Liz agrees, looking at Valen sadly. "Whenever you're ready. None of us are gonna hurt you."
The two of them head to the basement to start removing all the silver from the door.
Jim crouches by Valen. "What do you want, bud? You're not a prisoner anymore, it's up to you now. How can we help?"
He fumbles with the pen, picks it back up, and writes. Liz is angry at me for biting you?
"No, she's not angry. She was just surprised. She knows you didn't mean to. Do you want me to check?" Jim asks. He'd been lying about it being not a big deal, but he's sure Liz got the message: act like it's not a big deal. It was an accident, after all.
Valen shakes in a heap on the ground. No way, there's no way a hunter would see what Valen did to Jim, biting him so severely he almost fainted, and think it wasn't a big deal. Why wouldn't Liz be angry? She must be angry. He's going to be punished, he always is. He's going to fuck up badly enough to be sent back to that hell eventually, he knows he will, no, he already did, he's just waiting for them to realize, realize he deserves pain and pain and pain, never ending ever ever.
He grasps the notepad firmly and writes Please kill me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting the bandages.
Jim reads the note and gives a heavy exhale, sitting next to Valen so he's against the wall, too. "No, man. I'm not gonna kill you. You wanna die 'cause you're scared? Is that it?"
He whimpers and writes: I can't take any more pain.
"No more pain. How about that? It's over. It's really, really over, I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you, Liz and Laken aren't either. All we wanna do is see you safe and healthy. No pain." Jim says.
Maybe Valen will believe this eventually, if Jim just repeats it enough, but he can't right now. He just can't. His imagination races. He can picture so, so many ways this could go wrong. He can't do this anymore. He can't keep worrying and trying to figure out how to handle things, how to help himself. Jim and Liz and Laken are telling him they're trying to help him, but all he can feel is the dread of being the center of attention of a group of humans, of hunters. What hope does he have?
Jim's not going to kill him. He has to do it himself. He drags himself over to the chair he'd been hiding under before, wrapping his weak hands around the leg to try and snap it off to fashion a wooden stake, still weeping.
"Hey, fuck, nonono don't." Jim removes Valen's hands from the chair, holding them gently in his own. "How about this. Give it one month." By that time, Valen will have been back home in vampire territory for weeks. He'll probably feel a lot safer, and Jim won't be able to stop him anyway. "Can you do that, you think? Give life as a free man a shot for one month?"
Valen keeps his eyes on the wooden chair. How does Jim expect him to believe he's a free man? How does Jim expect him to believe he'll be able to last an entire month without pain, without messing up, without biting, without getting trapped back somewhere where he won't get this opportunity again? He tries to go for the chair again, more feebly this time, knowing he can't really fight Jim off. Why hadn't he just waited until later when he was alone and could get away with it?
"Valen, please." Jim doesn't let go of Valen's hands. "Just, just give it a shot. Please? I promise nothing bad's gonna happen. I won't let anyone hurt you, swear on my life. I know you've been through hell, but it's really, really over, I promise. I can't- you know I can't watch you every second, so just, please. It'll be okay, I'll make sure."
Valen shakes in Jim's hands, hanging his head and letting his hair fall in his face.
"I bet you'll feel a lot better with some food in you. It's not gonna fix everything, but everyone feels better after eating. Nothing bad happened to you when you bit me, right? And this is with permission. Or if you want, maybe they can get the blood in a cup or bowl or something for you? What sounds good?" Jim asks, releasing Valen's hands so he can write.
Valen wipes his eye, trying to make his swimming brain comprehend what Jim is saying. A cup, a cup is good, yes. This way he doesn't bite. He writes down, Biting is bad. A cup sounds good.
"Cup it is, then. You're gonna be just fine." Jim doesn't want to leave Valen alone after his very recent suicide attempt, so instead of going to get Liz and Laken, he calls out. "Hey guys! Valen's ready to eat!"
Laken appears out of the hall. "Alright! Order up."
"Can you try and get it in a cup for him? He's nervous about biting." Jim says.
"Sure thing." Laken gives Valen a thumbs-up.
Valen is starting to come down from the despair a little. He's getting a thumbs-up. That's good. He gives a little whine and lowers himself down, his head on Jim's leg.
Jim cards a hand through Valen's hair while Laken goes to the kitchen. "You're okay. Everything's gonna be fine."
After about a minute, the smell of blood emanates from the kitchen.
Valen perks up at the smell, shaking like an excited dog. He crawls forward, wringing his hands and leaning towards the kitchen door expectantly.
Jim follows behind him a bit nervously, but looks away from where Laken is draining blood into a mug.
Laken smiles. "Just got started getting this for you. If you changed your mind and wanna nibble, that's cool too." they say, letting their blood trickle into the mug.
Valen stays kneeling on the floor, clearly trying to wrangle the excitement off his face, trying not to hope, but he's aimlessly flapping his hands with excitement, trying to stay still, trying to stay on the floor and wait for Laken to bring it over, trying to control himself.
Laken keeps going until the cup's got a good amount in it, then slaps a large band-aid they had ready over their arm and brings the mug over. "Cuppa Laken, hope you enjoy." they say with a grin.
Valen stands and holds his hands out eagerly to take the cup from Laken as soon as it's within grabbing range, whining as he downs the cup. He keeps it over his mouth as the remnants dribble down, then he eagerly lowers it down and swipes his finger on the inside of the cup to lick off the remaining blood. He holds the cup when he's done, not daring to look at Laken, just looking down into the cup.
"Yay, I'm delicious." Laken says with a lighthearted laugh.
Jim rubs Valen's back. He's glad Valen is finally feeding, and that he doesn't have to be the one to provide it. Hopefully he'll be well again soon. "You feel a little better now? Still got a refill waiting, too."
Valen's gaze snaps back up, excitement returning, vibrating. A refill, he gets a refill?
He looks to Laken, then to Jim, and accidentally makes eye contact, then whines and lowers his eyes back down to Jim's feet.
"I'll go get Liz." Laken says, patting Valen on the shoulder and heading off.
"You're doing great. See, this isn't so bad, right? Everything's okay now." Jim knows full well that everything doesn't just become okay after you escape. But it definitely gets a hell of a lot better.
Liz joins them. "Door's about halfway done. Stuff's easier to take off than to put on. Sorry if we scared you earlier, Valen."
Valen nods, eyes wide. She's apologizing to him. That seems wrong. He should always be apologizing to everyone else ever, for existing.
Liz takes the mug, drains blood into it in a similar fashion, and hands it back. Jim is tenser this time. This entire feeding endeavor is a little much for him, but he doesn't want to leave Valen alone, since Valen seems comforted by his presence.
"Here you go. Hope this is enough." Liz says, pressing the mug back into his hands.
Valen squirms excitedly while Liz prepares the blood for him. He downs the second mug the same way as the first, licking the inside clean. He retrieves his writing utensils and writes Thank you, showing it to Liz and Laken.
"You're welcome." Liz says with a smile, while Laken gives a "No problem."
"You still want a hug?" Jim asks quietly. "I'm still uh, taking a break from 'em, but Liz and Laken would probably both be down."
Just as Valen had started to calm down again, his interest is once again piqued, giving an excited little jump, starting forward towards them then stepping back, rocking from foot to foot, nodding vigorously.
"Aw, c'mere!" Laken wraps their arms around him in a warm embrace. Liz laughs and joins in, giving him a group hug. Jim declines to join in, but he does ruffle Valen's hair.Valen starts crying again, and for the first time in forever, they're happy tears. He holds the hug for an absurdly long time. It's okay, he's okay, there are people who care about him and want him to feel okay and will hug him. It's almost inconceivable.
***
@barebarb
@cc1010foxy
@emcscared-whumps
@gt-daboss
@hurtpluscomfort
@jakersdaboss
@lolrpop
@melancholy-in-the-morning
@pigeonwhumps
@secretwhumplair
@some-thrilling-heroics
@starfields08000
@t0rture-me
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@whump-addict
@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question
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Matt & Me🎀
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.
fem! reader x singer! matt
disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.
warnings - drug use,, sexual refrences
y/nn = your nickname for anyone confused🩷
Chapter 7
The day before I was to leave for Germany, Matt took me aside and said, “Baby, as much as I hate to say it, we’re gonna have to face it. Our time is up.” I broke down and hung onto him tightly, burying my head in his chest.
“I’m not leaving,” I said, sobbing. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll call my parents and say I missed the plane.”
“C’mon, Baby. You think they’re gonna fall for that?”
“Then I’ll tell them the truth: that I love you and that I won’t come back.”
“Hey, hey.” He was trying to calm me. “You’re just gonna make it worse for the next time. I’ve been thinkin’, I always wanted you to see Graceland. But right now, I’ve got some business to take care of in Boston for a few weeks, and then I’ve gotta do another film. So if you go back and do well in school and behave yourself, maybe your parents will let you spend Christmas at Graceland with me and my family.”
I loved the idea, but Christmas was six months away. Anything could happen between now and then.
That night in bed Matt held me very close for a long time. I felt that he was doing more than just comforting me. He was telling me how deeply he cared.
And more than that: His deep belief in consummating our love affair only in marriage gave me hope for the future.
Later, our lovemaking had more feeling and intensity than ever before. Matt wasn’t going to let me go home without my taking a little of him with me. He didn’t enter me; he didn’t have to. He fulfilled my every desire.
“I want you back the way you are now,” he whispered just before dawn. “And remember, I’ll always know.”
I smiled and nodded. I couldn’t conceive of wanting anyone but him.
Matt didn’t walk me into the airport. We kissed goodbye in the limousine. It was a tender but excruciatingly brief moment. I didn’t think the pain could have been greater even if he told me I’d never return.
I walked onto the plane like a robot. I was in a daze that lasted throughout the eleven hour flight. I talked to no one and didn’t care who saw the tears constantly streaming down my face. My world had come to an abrupt end. Finally I closed my eyes and in my mind I relived every moment of my visit. Suddenly the stewardess was telling us to fasten our seat belts for the landing. The thought of freshening up before we arrived never occurred to me. I just sat in a daze, waiting for the plane to taxi to a stop. Then I listlessly gathered up my things and made my way out.
When I first saw my parents, my mother was crying with joy at seeing me and my father was wearing a big welcome-home smile. But as I came nearer, their expressions changed from delight to absolute horror. My father turned away angrily. For a moment my mother just stared. Then she reached into her purse, pulled out a mirror, and thrust it at me.
“Look at yourself! How could you walk off the plane like that?”
I glanced at myself in the mirror and immediately understood their response. Two weeks before, I had left them, a fresh-faced sixteen-year-old, wearing a suitable white cotton suit and innocent of anything but a touch of mascara. Now, not only was I wearing the heavy makeup that Matt liked, but my tears had smeared it all over my face. I hadn’t bothered to lift a comb to my hair, which was unkept and tangled. My parents were shocked and disappointed.
Too embarrassed to look at them, I put my hand to my face and nonchalantly tried to wipe off the residue of black mascara and liner. Then I said, ‘I’d like to go to the ladies’ room.”
“You’re going straight home,” my father snapped. “If you left it on this long, you might as well keep it on another hour.” He hardly said another word to me until we got home and I washed my face.
Christmas in the family was always a major production, but Christmas 1962 was one time I wasn’t concerned about presents. I was bound for the place that I had often dreamed about but never let myself believe that I would actually see—Graceland.
Getting there hadn’t been easy. The plotting and scheming had started one morning at 2:10 a.m., when I had sleepily answered the phone to hear Matt’s voice. He seemed in great spirits. Laughing and joking, he told me that RCA had sent him some horrible demo records for his next movie. “I’m listening to ’em, Baby, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I have to laugh because if I don’t, I’ll start cryin’.”
I chuckled sympathetically, but I could hear the sadness in his voice. Then he said softly, “Little Girl, I want you here for Christmas. I don’t care how you arrange it or what you have to tell your parents. I’ll go along with anything you say, as long as you get here.”
I was shaking as I hung up the phone. I couldn’t imagine my parents allowing me to leave again—especially at Christmas—but there was no way I was going to let him down.
After a few days of silently avoiding the subject, I casually brought up Matt’s request to my mother.
“Absolutely not,” she declared. “It’s out of the question. Christmas is for the family. That’s the way it’s always been and it’s not going to change—not even for Matt Sturniolo.”
I wouldn’t give up. My poor mother was torn between making a dream come true for her daughter and doing what was right as a parent.
“When will this end?” she murmured with an anguished expression. Finally she agreed to speak to my father.
That was the breakthrough.
Again the pleas. Again the promises.
One month later, I was on a flight bound for the United States. Matt had asked James and Angela to meet me at La Guardia Airport in New York and escort me to Boston because he didn’t want me to travel alone.
By the time we reached Boston, I was both exhausted and exhilarated. We went to James’s home on Hamilton Drive, a short distance from Graceland. Matt had left explicit instructions that only he could drive me through the gates of Graceland.
A few minutes after we arrived, he called. His father handed me the phone. Before I could say two words, Matt blurted he was on his way. Minutes later the door flew open and I was in his arms.
Graceland was everything Matt had said it would be. The front lawn was adorned with a nativity scene and the white columns of the mansion were ablaze with holiday lights. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever laid eyes on.
Inside the mansion a crowd of Matt’s friends and relatives all stood waiting to greet me. I felt relaxed and comfortable as he introduced me to everyone, because I had already met several of his friends when I was in Los Angeles.
Then Matt said, “y/nn, there’s someone special who’s waiting for you.” With a smile, he led me up the stairs and opened the door to his grandmother’s room.
“Dodger,” he called out. “Look who’s here. It’s little y/nn. She’s come a long way, Dodger, to be with little us.”
Using endearing terms like “little us” was his way of being affectionate. His mother had raised him on this sweet talk and Matt spoke it with those he cherished.
Dodger smiled and greeted me in her soft voice. “Good God, child, it took you a long time to get here.”
She was sitting in a high-backed overstuffed chair. I leaned over and she gave me a hug and patted me on the back. I was delighted at how good Dodger was looking, her hair, once completely gray, was now a natural looking dark brown. I noticed she wasn’t as thin as she’d been in Germany. At 18 Hauptstrasse, Dodger had presided over a busy household; at Graceland she had withdrawn to her room.
After Matt left us alone, I could tell something was bothering her and asked, “Grandma, how has everything been with you?” She looked at me and then down at the lace handkerchief in her lap.
“I don’t know, Hon. I’m worried about Matt and James. Matt is still upset over his Daddy’s marriage.” James and Angela had gotten married a year earlier. “He don’t spend much time at Graceland anymore and his Daddy’s worried. I hate to see the two of ’em upset like that. Lord have mercy. Matt didn’t go to the weddin’, you know. Matt is tryin’ hard, but when she comes over he just gets up and leaves the room. I don’t know if he’ll ever accept it.”
She reached for her snuffbox. It was an endearing habit that she tried to keep secret.
“But I don’t want you to go worrying about it,” she continued. “You go off and have a good time with Matt. That young’un needs you now.”
I nodded and kissed her cheek. “I promise I’ll take care of him, Dodger,” I said, feeling guilty leaving her. She worried too much, just as all the Sturniolo’s did. It was contagious.
She laughed softly and said with a smile, “Ain’t no one ever called me that but Matt.”
All that night, the guys played pool, watched TV, and hung around the kitchen badgering Pauline (“VO5”) while she played short-order cook.
I realized that there was no set routine at Graceland. Everyone came and went as they pleased. It wasn’t a home, but rather an open house, available to the guys and their dates all with Matt’s approval, of course.
The evening ended around 4 a.m., when Matt finally said good night to everyone and took my hand. I was really exhausted since, in anticipation of the trip, I hadn’t slept for two days. As I walked up the white-carpeted staircase, I closed my eyes and wished I was already in bed.
In his room, Matt gave me two large red pills, explaining, “Take these now, and by the time you come to bed, you’ll be nice and relaxed.” I really didn’t need anything, but he insisted, saying that they would help me sleep better and were a little stronger than what I’d taken before.
I didn’t recognize them. They were larger than I’d ever taken before. You’d have to be a horse to get these down, I thought, but I reluctantly swallowed them.
I went into the dressing room to bathe, and as I sank into the tub, my head settled on the edge. My arm was so heavy I could barely raise my hand; my eyelids seemed weighted. But I felt good and kind of silly.
The longer I soaked, the less energy I had and I only barely managed to get out of the tub. Trying to focus on the bed, I staggered over to where Matt was lying. Then I collapsed.
After that, I was occasionally awakened by the sound of distant voices. One time, I thought I saw Matt whispering to me. Another time I saw his father. I didn’t know if I was dreaming or hallucinating, but when I closed my eyes I could feel the room spinning around.
Then I felt a soft hand gently rubbing and patting my arm. “y/n? y/n? Hon, it’s Grandma, you all right?” Slowly I tried to lift my head, but it was too heavy and it fell back down.
“What’d you give this young’un?” I heard someone say. “You got no business givin’ her something she’s not used to. Son, maybe we ought to call a doctor. She’s in bad shape. I don’t think we should take any chances.”
I managed to focus my half-closed eyes on Matt and gave him a wink and a giddy grin.
He said, “Hell no, we’re not callin’ any doctor. Look, she’s comin’ to.”
Kneeling beside me, he held up my head, and I saw that I wasn’t in his room but lying on the white chaise lounge in his office, which adjoined the bedroom.
“What am I doing here?”
“I walked you in here after the first day,” he answered in a concerned tone. “We were trying to revive you.”
“But I just went to bed,” I said, slurring my words.
“Baby, you had us all scared. You’ve been out for two days on two goddamn five hundred-milligram Placidyls. Must have been out of my head giving them to you that way.”
“Two days! That’s two days off my trip. What’s today?”
“December twenty-third.”
“Oh no.”
“Don’t worry. We still have plenty of time.” He smiled at me and said, “I promise, Baby, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Merry Christmas,” Matt said proudly, handing me a honey-colored six-week-old puppy.
“Oh, Matt. He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and the smallest.” I gave Matt a big hug and heard a muffled yelp between us. “Oh, Honey!” I said. “I’m sorry.” I had unwittingly just named the pup Honey.
It was Christmas Eve. Matt had prayed for a white Christmas and—as if on cue—that night three full inches of snow fell.
The gathering around the tree included James and Angela, her three sons—David, Ricky, and Billy—the entourage and their wives, and a handful of Matt’s other relatives and friends. Everyone was pleasant and made me feel welcome, though it must have seemed strange to see me rather than Nicole sitting beside Matt. Nicole had shared Christmas with him the two previous years. Sometimes I couldn’t help wondering if he missed her. It wasn’t easy for him to let go of people. I knew that.
It was fun watching Matt open gifts. “Just what I needed, another jewelry box,” he quipped, unwrapping the fourth one of the evening. He looked over at Gene Smith, one of the few people who could consistently make Matt laugh.
“You give me this, Gene?” he asked.
Gene mumbled, “Naw, M, I didn’t give it to you.”
Then Matt reconsidered. “On second thought, I don’t guess you did, Gene. It’s got too much taste.”
“Ah, M, how can you say that?” Gene was mumbling in his slow Southern drawl.
“Easy.” Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Just look at you, Gene, a living example of ba-a-a-d taste.”
Pretending to be insulted, Gene walked away scratching his head, as everyone laughed.
Although there were lots of jokes, I sensed a sadness in Matt’s look as our eyes met, and I couldn’t help recalling what he’d once said to me in Germany: “Christmas just won’t be the same at Graceland without Mom. It’ll be hard for me, and I don’t know if I can bear the loneliness. But I guess I’ll manage. God will give me the strength somehow.”
“Oh, look, Matt,” I said, trying to distract him with a large, colorfully wrapped present. “Here’s one more you forgot to open.” It was my own gift to him, a musical cigarette case, which I’d purposely saved for last. I held my breath as he unwrapped it.
He opened the box and it began to play “Love Me Tender.”
“I love it! I really do, y/nn. Thank you.”
There was a twinkle in his eyes, and I wished I could always make him this happy.
Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.
This material may be protected by copyright.
a/n - longgg chapter again🎀
#matt stuniolo fanfic#matthew sturn#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#Spotify
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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭
Pairing: Chan x fem!reader (zombie apocalypse au)
Word count: 1.6k
Warning: ATEEZ IS THE ENEMY excluding Seonghwa, Yeosang, & Wooyoung, ateez has history with reader, mentions of character death, San is crazy, guns of course, Chan is a tiny bit protective and possessive, tell me if i missed anything
A/N: if you want to be tagged in updates of this series just say in the comments, felt like this was mad short... but I hope you like it :3
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Chapter 3
He remembered it like it was yesterday. It was her or him... He made a choice... It was his best friend or her...
"Channie. Let's get through this together eh?"
Chan sat up in fear as he remembered the machete that had stabbed the ground centimeters away from his neck.
Chan covered his face and exhaled slowly before rolling out of bed, he grabbed his gun and walked outside, as he exited the car that led into the hideout he raised a brow as he saw you sitting on a pile of rubble.
"Y/N?" He tilted his head at you.
You looked at him and shrugged. "Needed some fresh air. You?"
"Couldn't sleep." He shrugged and climbed up the pile in a few large steps.
You had a bottle in your hand and he took it from you. "Someone has alcohol." he gasped.
"You act as if you don't." You rolled your eyes.
"See but mine isn't just for nothing." he took a swig and handed the bottle back to you.
"Oh?" You raised a brow.
"It's... uhh... Motivation." He gave you a small sheepish smile.
It wasn't an expression you'd expected to see on Chan.
"Minho's better." You stared at the exit of the tunnel.
"Can't let you leave-"
"Because you know where our hideout is." You gave Chan a side eye. "I don't intend on leaving thanks. This is the most stable place me and Hwa have gotten since..."
Chan turned to you, "Since what?"
"Since the apocalypse began." You said looking at your alcohol.
Chan hummed. "In the beginning, it was just me Jisung and..." Chan's face fell momentarily. "You don't have to leave."
You patted his shoulder and said, "Don't intend on doing so for a long while..." You slid off the pile and went back to the car. "You coming?"
"Gonna stay here for a bit..." Chan said.
"Mmk." You waved, "Don't get some random disease, I prefer sleeping." Then you entered the car and slid down.
Chan rolled his eyes and stared at the tunnel... "Eunbi..."
"SEUNGMIN!" Hyunjin and Changbin sang in unison as they burst out of Hyunjin's room.
Seungmin cringed. "Please be quiet..."
Hyunjin slapped paper on the table where Seungmin sat and crossed his arms. "I think I've got it figured out now!"
Seungmin looked at him. "What?"
You looked from where you stood with Jisung and Yongbok in the kitchen. "What are you guys screaming about?"
"Y/N!" Changbin put his arm around you. "Imagine, a working plane."
"Now how the fuc-" You started.
"THINK ABOUT IT!" Changbin shook you.
"I'm thinking it's impossible." Chan's voice came from the hall as he walked out, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a very angry expression. "You wanna know what else I'm thinking Changbin?"
Changbin laughed nervously, "What?"
Chan walked up to him and the rest of the boys scattered.
You stood there in confusion until Chan hooked his elbow around Changbin's head and dragged him, screwing his knuckles into the poor, shorter man's head.
You laughed as Chan gave Changin a noogie.
"I think it's too early to be shouting." Chan huffed releasing the whining Changbin.
"IT'S 1 P.M!" Changbin shouted, rubbing his head as the other members laughed.
Chan turned to Changbin's accomplice. Hyunjin stood straight, going silent.
"We're going out later." Chan said.
"What for?" Minho asked.
Seonghwa came out from the hall and sighed. "Hyunjin wants to use the plane he saw last time he went out."
"What for?" You asked this time.
"There was a lot of junk planes where I saw it. If we can get that plane working..."
"It'll appear on someone's radar.." Jeongin's eyes widened from where he fiddling with a computer motherboard.
"SOOO.. WE MIGHT FIND OTHER PEOPLE?!" Yongbok jumped.
"Trustworthy people." Chan shrugged. "If the plane flies... We might be able to get to them too."
Yongbok jumped up, "LET'S GO NOW!"
Chan turned to Yongbok slowly. "Later."
"Why?!"
Chan walked towards Yongbok who ran away.
"JISUNG PROTECT ME!"
"I'm going to sleep." Chan started walking back to his room.
"You don't want to eat?" You looked at him.
He inhaled deeply, "I'll eat later."
Seonghwa leaned over to you. "Give me his portion."
"AH!" Chan huffed, exasperated, sitting beside Seungmin.
You smiled and looked back at your business in the kitchen.
You packed enough food to last the group two days, just in case. It was you, Seonghwa, Chan, and Hyunjin, going to identify the plane Hyunjin had seen.
Chan drove carefully through the city.
"The plane is in the red zone." Hyunjin said, looking back at you and Seonghwa.
"All this for a plane we don't even know can fly or not.." Seonghwa sighed.
"It'll be fine." You huffed. "We just look at the plane's parts and go."
Chan looked at you in the rearview mirror. "If you see an infected-"
"Don't engage, get away quietly." You and Hyunjin made a face.
Chan rolled his eyes.
As you drove through what used to be Seoul you saw a few infected running after the car but giving up after a while. You watched as city turned into industrial area and Chan turned off the road, onto concrete, the car shook a little and Seonghwa sucked in a breath. Hyunjin snickered.
Chan stopped in front of a big building and you made a face, the sun was almost setting. "We eat then we start looking, quicker we get this over with, quicker we can go home."
You all agreed and you handed each of them some food.
After you finished eating, and went to the back of the building, Chan helping you and Hyunjin jump the fence. There was a wide open field with rundown planes.
Hyunjin sprinted to the plane he had told you about and jumped around, "Isn't she a beauty?!"
Seonghwa rolled his eyes. "It's a plane."
"But it could fly..." Hyunjin said, walking over to Chan. "Chan-"
"Look it over, find the radar-" Chan started but was cut off by sharp laugh.
"This plane, this junkyard, that building belong to my people."
You looked towards the voice, and Seonghwa stepped in front of you.
"Y/N!" A man with dark hair and a bruise on his cheek smiled at you from where he stood on the plane's wing..
"San." Seonghwa stared at him.
Chan looked at you before turning to the man. "Who are you?"
"Y/N's friend." San smiled and jumped down. "Seonghwa's too.."
"Why are you here-" You tried to move past Seonghwa but he held you back.
"I should ask you that question." San huffed, walking towards you. "Hongjoong's been looking for you for a while-"
Chan put his arm between San and you, glaring at the man. "You stay away from my people." His eyes narrowed.
"Your people??" San looked shocked, he cocked his head towards you, "Y/N is with us."
Chan reached to his side for his gun. "Who is us-"
"Go ahead Y/N. Who are we?" San looked at you, tilting his head.
Chan slowly turned to look at you.
"If there is anyone who is one of my people..." San pulled out his gun just as Chan did.
Chan pointed his at San's temple. "Prove it. Women are really rare around here... Y/N is with me."
San pointed the gun at Seonghwa.
Hyunjin stood ready to pull out his gun.
"I have to say the odds aren't in your favor." Chan said softly as he cocked his gun. "I don't think it's safe for you to try."
San's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. You're right."
Suddenly a pick-up truck swerved around Hyunjin and Chan grabbed you and Seonghwa, pulling you out of its way just as the back door opened and a man with a pretty face, dark hair and green highlights reached for his hand.
San grabbed it and the pretty man locked eyes with you.
A man with a sharp jaw, short black hair and big eyes looked at you as he turned the wheel swerving around again and driving out of the junk yard.
You cringed at the size of the hole their car blew into the fence.
Chan looked at you, his expression blank. "Explain."
"It's not what you think-" Seonghwa tried to step between you two.
Chan glared at him. "What am I supposed to think?!"
"Chan-" Hyunjin reached for him.
"Who are you?" Chan shouted at you.
You cringed. "Let me-"
"It's not her fault." Seonghwa interrupted you.
"Oh?" Chan whipped to face him. "It's yours then?"
"Bang Chan you know that's not it-" Seonghwa said, clearly getting frustrated.
"What do I know about you to really? For all I know you could have set us up!"
"I would NEVER!" You snapped.
"What am I supposed to believe about you!?" He retorted. "You robbed me when we met, you act a fool with the guys and now this!"
You stared at him. "Don't believe me then."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
Seonghwa grabbed you. "We don't need thi-"
You pulled away from him and stormed back to the car.
Seonghwa glared at Chan for a moment before going after you.
Hyunjin looked at Chan, "They probably have their own reasons. You should know that.."
Chan bit his lip. That guy couldn't have been serious. And who the hell was Hongjoong...
Tags
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#skz#skz x reader#bang chan#stray kids#stray kids x reader#bangchan#bangchan x reader#bang chan x reader#zombie apocalypse#zombie au#yang jeongin skz#yang jeongin stray kids#kim seungmin skz#kim seungmin stray kids#lee yongbok#lee felix stray kids#lee felix skz#han jisung#han jisung skz#han jisung stray kids#hwang hyunjin stray kids#hwang hyunjin skz#seo changbin skz#seo changbin stray kids#lee minho stray kids#lee minho skz#khxndlewrites#wooyoung#san#yeosang
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Good People - Part II: Do Unto Others (Platonic)
Part 1 is here!
NOTE: Once again, this series (maybe? if people like it and their dynamic?) will be shorter pieces around certain scenes rather than full episodes. Kind of like summaries with specific lil bits with the main focus being Lucy and Y/N's friendship. Enjoy!
Chapter Summary: You take Lucy to Filly. A gunfight ensues. Lucy surprises you with loyalty.
"I thought I'd have to marry my Cousin," Lucy tells you as you both start to leave the desert and enter a forest area.
"...Uh...Ok?" you say, not really sure how to react to the information your new friend has just given you.
"Is that not...is that now how things are done up here? What about the survival of the Human Race?"
You snort, helping her over a log, "Don't think that's the thing on a lot of people's minds."
"How so?" she asks, genuinley confused.
"More so just concerned about the whole, survival of the self, type thing."
"That's understandable. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"I won't."
"No, I meant like, ask me. 'Sure, go ahead.'"
"Oh. Sorry. Still getting used to the lingo out here."
You snort again, "ain't too much to learn. And, you're fine, wasn't the worse miscommunication."
She nods, smile on her face, "okey dokey."
You keep walking on, passing two people. You move out of their way, but Lucy gives them a friendly greeting. Nothing comes of it, but you still find yourself leaning in close to her - and accidentally making her jump as she didn't see that you had stopped - and saying to her, "try not to do that in general when out, ok? In towns? Maybe, especially with your quest. But out here," you move your finger in a circular motion, "don't."
"Can I ask why? Nothing bad happened," you partly pity and find her innocence kind of endearing.
"Just...this time it didn't go bad. It might not next time."
"Sorry."
"Don't - don't be sorry," you say, finding your guard going down a bit at her genuine apology, "just...lessons learnt, right?"
She nods, enthusiastically, "yes. One hundo percento!"
You shake your head, "alrighty then. Onward to Filly."
Filly wasn't a bad town. It had all sorts of life in it, not all nice mind, and a certain charm with the environment it laid in. It was also what led you to realise that, for most of your time surviving, you had spent it wandering in circles essentially, with you almost always ending up back here and some point.
Lucy moves between two people, reaching out and grabbing your hand to make sure you don't get lost. She tightens it a bit as you look back at the two people as they look at Lucy, discussing to themselves about the Vault Dweller.
"Y/N, come on," she says, tugging on your hand, "no need to start a fight."
Your hand unfurls from the fist it was in.
You nod at her, she nods back.
A vendor tries to get her to try some meat; she tries to find information on her dad; the vendor just goes back to selling meat.
"Move on. Come on. Don't wanna get trapped here," you say, trying to usher Lucy along.
"But he might --" Lucy protests.
"Trust me?" you ask, attempting to just keep her moving.
Yet --
"I do," Lucy says.
It makes you both pause.
"What?" she asks, genuinley confused.
"That quick, huh?"
She nods, now moving of her own volition.
"Like I said, good judge of character."
She walks on a bit, as you stay put.
"Huh," you say. You'd never been told that before. A snake, sure. Or some other bad word. But never someone to be trusted. Sounded foreign to you.
Still, it made you have a slight spring in your step - or as much as you could, given your current predicament.
Lucy looks in wonder at the place, "Wow-wee!" she says.
"Not a bad looker, is it? End of the world really brings out the creativity in people."
"I didn't expect this, for sure," she admits. Maybe it's her honesty, the ability to have her guard almost always be down, that makes you admire her a bit more. She trusts easily. It shakes you a bit, how quickly she both did that and gave you her water. Things like that are worth gold out here. And yet she gave it to you freely.
She's the one with that dart gun, and yet you find yourself being more of the protector. She accidentally barges shoulder with someone, and apologises. The man, a towering figure, looks her up and down. You stand between them, until his friend hits him as well.
"They might have something for you," you say, nodding to the shop, "I'll stay with you until you find something here. Then, let you be on your way."
"Wait, you aren't coming with me to my dad?" she asks, saddened.
"I mean, I didn't think so? If she has something, then you know where to go. I told you the golden rule: don't fuck with people, and they won't with you. About all you need to know really. That, and you got that," you nod to her weapon, "so you should be ok."
"'Should'?"
You sigh, running a hand on your face. You feel off, "yeah. I mean, I know you said about your vault and all, but that life is too good for someone like me."
"That's not true," she says, hurt on your behalf.
You hold a hand up, "look, we'll talk after, ok? You just go in first, see if she knows anything, then go from there, ok?"
She nods, mood dampened a little. She goes in; you sit in a chair, coughing a few times as you do. You don't know if it's the heat, or what, but something is dragging you down. You just hope it's not this infection. That would be an embarrassing way to go.
Time ticks by, before she leaves, face looking depressed.
"What happened?" you ask. But you don't get an answer, instead, she pauses, looking to a man with glasses.
He warns her about going back to her vault. That it isn't safe here. You chuckle, a dry one but still, he's hit the nail on the head.
He then surprises you both, he tells her facts about her vault: their primary crop is corn; there is a telesonic projector in your farm; it loops images of the Nebraskan countryside; meritocracy - whatever that means - something about the right thing apparently.
You miss the rest, and jolt at a hand on your shoulder. It's Lucy, who is looking at you in concern. She says something, looks away from you, but the voices overlap until -
"It's ok," Lucy says, softly. You look, and see the man she was talking to, a doctor - round glasses, a kind smile on his aged face, "he's a doctor."
"I don't have many - or any tools," he says, looking apologetic.
You wave him off, "not like I have many - or any caps."
He chuckles, leaning down a bit to look at you, "I think, in your condition, I can make an exception," you chuckle a bit this time - it instantly goes into a cough, "let's have a look at you," he reaches out, and you recoil, "to help, I will need to touch."
You seem to forget Lucy had previously held your hand and you had felt nothing of it, but you flinch when even she touches you and puts a hand on your knee.
"Y/N, this is the only way to help you," she insists, "you helped me get here. And, to be honest, I don't really want to leave you in this condition."
You look at her pleading eyes. She's only known you for an hour, tops, and yet she wants the genuine best for you.
You've been looked at like that before, it didn't end well. Friendships never did.
Still, you find yourself nodding. The doctor is gentle with his touch, looking at your scratches.
"I believe it is this one," he says, gesturing to one on your torn trousers being exposed to everything.
"Someone urinated on it," Lucy says.
The doctor looks to you, you confirm it, "ah, then this is what may of caused the infection. Either that, or general exposure to wasteland itself. How long have you had this wound?"
"I honestly do not know."
The doctor nods, stands, and readjusts his glasses, "I will try find you a Stimpack inside, and see if that helps your pain."
The woman from inside the shop comes out, and helps the doctor 'Wilzig' inside. Lucy helps you up. However, before anything else can happen, a Ghoul stands up, calling out to him.
Wilzig's leg is blown off. There's a tense moment, before bullets start flying. A stray bullet catches you on the shoulder. You stumble into the store. You look for a weapon, anything to help keep yourself and Lucy alive as the gunshots keep flying.
"Y/N. Y/N!" Lucy says, making sure not to touch you, but close enough to catch you if you fall, "you can't fight like this! You need to hide!"
"I ain't hiding!" you say, memories of a previous failure flashing in your mind, "not with that monster outside."
"I'll deal with him."
"With that little piss shooter?!" you snap, adrenaline pushing you at this point. A couple more coughs leave you.
"Look, you can't help like this, ok?" she says, taking her weapon out. And, despite your own circumstances, you can see clearly that it's drugs loaded into the thing - it'll do nothing here, "I will solve this as peacefully as I can, ok."
"That really ain't a good idea -"
"Trust me, Y/N. Ok? Golden rule. I have mine and you have yours. Right now, I'm gonna use mine, but if it goes bad, I'll use yours and this."
You can't even stop her as she goes outside.
The Ghoul seems almost annoyed at this whole thing. But, before he can shoot Lucy, a Brotherhood member appears in a suit, and blocks shots aimed for Lucy as they both come through the wall.
With the distraction, you take your moment. You don't have a gone, but you may as well...help. The good doctor helped you after all.
With Lucy and the shop owner's help, you pull Wilzig inside. They sit him down on a seat, as your wounds get to you. You stumble.
Lucy, in an instant, catches you and puts you on your own seat.
"Holy moly," Lucy says, looking at your bleeding shoulder, "that is in deep.
"I know," you say, trying to find something to pull it out with. The shop owner seems to know this, and pushes a knife towards you. You take it, and take a few steadying breaths.
Your hand shakes, adrenaline not helping you here at all. You're scared too. Have whatever the hell is wrong with you plus your fear. Not a great combo.
Lucy, attempting to ignore the Wilzig having a robotic foot being shoved into him, looks at you and approaches you.
"Here," she says, taking your hand and taking the knife, "let me."
"You even know what you're doing?"
She shrugs, "steadier hand, somehow," she quips, holding out her hand and comparing it to yours, "and, no time like the present."
You suppose you have like no options, so you just nod.
"You wanna know my golden rule?" she asks, trying to distract you as she psyches herself up. You make a noise she assumes is 'ok' and continues, "'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'" she says, "you helped me, I'll help you. That is how we rebuild."
"The hell you jump from me to rebui--" you are cut off when Lucy jabs the knife into your shoulder. A burning white flash hits your vision. You hear a plethora of 'sorry!' leave her, but you finally the pain start to fade a small bit when you feel the knife be removed along with the bullet casing.
"Done! Done!" Lucy says. You try and focus your breathing and mind, trying to escape the pain.
You feel a glass of something be put in your hand. You down it. You feel the burn of some alcoholic drink.
"Now," the shopkeeper says," that should keep your friend going for a little bit. At least, until they find a Stimpack. I'm sure you'll find one on your way to Moldaver. You feel her pat you - you don't flinch, too focused on being in the present and not spinning, "you alright, kid?"
You give a thumbs up.
She gives you another pat. You open your eyes. You don't feel amazing. But, you don't feel as worse, so in this world that's positively amazing.
"I'll sneak you three out back," the shopkeeper says.
She keeps her word. Once again, something rare here.
Lucy, yourself, and Wilzig walk through the wasteland. Lucy keeps checking her pip boy every so often.
You come to a rest, and your day gets even better:
Wilzig has taken a cyanide pill, and you need to decapitate him to keep going and have something to give Moldaver.
He passes away, and Lucy looks to the blade she has been given. It startles her when it activates.
"Okey dokey, Luce," she says to herself, "you can do this. You can do this. Just...think of it as a massive knife that...moves, and you'll be -"
It activates again and she drops it. She doesn't reach it first, however, you do.
"Look away, is all I'll say."
"No, Y/N. No, you don't have to do this --"
"'Do unto others', right?" You nod, preparing yourself for the grim task, "I got this, ok? Just, look away, please? It'll get real messy."
She stutters a few times; seemingly wanting to persist, thank you, and object all in one go. But, she turns around. You look back at the body.
"Here we go..." you tell yourself, before activating the blade.
Guess you're in this now...fully.
#fallout x you#lucy fallout#fallout x reader#fallout imagine#fallout#lucy maclean x reader#lucy maclean#lucy maclean imagine#lucy maclean fallout
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Outside The Office Part Thirty Three
Hi All,
I hope this chapter clarifies some questions! Shoot me any more that might pop up <3
I knelt over the toilet as the last bit of my breakfast came up. Every part of me ached, had ached for the last two days and I felt both overheated and freezing cold. I had tried ginger ale, crackers, apple juice, and everything else just short of calling Valentino and begging him to come home.
I laid half on the cool tile of the floor, half on the towel I had tossed down at the start of all this and closed my eyes. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since the day Valentino bit into my shoulder, leaving me completely and utterly ravenous for him. His best guess was that part of the control he had over his ability to procreate- after all, he had never bitten someone in his Overlord form. And he figured as long as the saliva he produced in that form stayed out of his partners bloodstream, he could fuck them all he wanted with zero consequences.
But he assumed, based on my reaction to the bite, that as soon as that red poison slipped into my bloodstream, all bets were off. The fertility test I had taken the next day showed that I was more than able to get pregnant. But the six pregnancy tests I took after reassured us both that I wasn't.
With that confirmation, Valentino and I fell into our morning routine- working out, fucking, breakfast, showering, work, in that order. Work was where we usually parted- me to go and start to sort through the mass of souls that had the potential to be useful.
To say that hell had a military was an absolute joke in every sense of the word. I was quickly learning that, in as much power my Uncle Lucifer had, he had little to no sense of organization when it came to this type of thing. The day I passed my physical assessment in Lucifer’s mind, I realized just how messed up, overrated, underrated and disorganized his sense of brutality was.
“Lucifer, I took down seventeen enemies the size of my father,” I had panted in the middle of the training floor. “What goal are you looking for?”
He stared at me in confusion. “Goal? I wanted you to kill them all.”
“That isn’t humanly possible,” I panted as I gulped down water. “Shit, Uncle Lucifer, that's why we have troops. Come on, give me the files.”
“Fine, fine, but only because we’re running out of time,” he relented.
He led me into what was formally Valentino’s second studio. There was no trace of what remained before, instead, the floor was divided into sections, and subsections. Lucifer had spared no expense in ensuring that every bit of technology was up to date- and worked with Vox to be sure everything was the most secure it could be. Unlike the others, when you stepped off the elevator you needed a retinal scan simply to walk through the next door. From there, retinal scans popped up throughout, ensuring at random that those going through were where they needed to be.
The first few days were spent in the middle of an empty office, pounding away on my laptop as I rushed to sort through files. Categorizing souls was no small feat, considering the amount of them- Lucifer’s seven billion plus to my seven hundred or so. A daunting task to say the least, but thankfully, Vox jumped in and together we came up with an algorithm that would sort these souls into one of the three categories- yes, fuck no, and only if desperate.
With the constant late nights and busy days, it didn’t phase me too much when Valentino kissed the top of my head and told me he was going to have to leave me for a few days. I was too deep in my work to say anything other than yes, and without him as a consistent check in, Vox stepped in to pry me away from the office and forced me to go to sleep at night. If nothing else, I was grateful the club scene paused while Valentino was gone- it was one less thing to do outside of work.
Yesterday morning was the first day something didn’t feel quite right. A twinge in my belly, and nausea that flooded me. When Vox came to grab me for dinner, I told him I didn’t feel well. He immediately checked my temperature and put me to bed.
��You’re working too hard,” he said gently. “You need to slow down.”
That wasn’t an option. We had weeks before the angels were due to come and I had a plan that needed to be implemented six months ago. My idea was simple. The angels came into us, and I led the invasion back to heaven, right through the portal they entered. Smack them where it hurts, get revenge for my father and end this nonsense once and for all. But I had yet to figure out how exactly I was going to manage that. As an angel, I could enter heaven. And I suspected Lucifer could as well, but I would need someone powerful on the ground. Based on the abilities of the souls I had to work with, this entire thing would be a tough ask.
So I pushed myself, like I always did, until I physically couldn’t anymore, nibbling on crackers and working from my bedroom until finally everything I put into my body came up. I felt sicker than I ever had before, and I needed to call Val, I knew I did. I just couldn’t do this by myself. I needed my person.
I picked up the phone and to his credit, he picked up on the first ring.
“Princessa, is everything okay?” He asked.
“Val, can you come home? I’m sick. I need you.” I dropped the phone as another wave of nausea flooded me. Bile. Ugh.
“Sorry, Val I’m…”
“I’ll be home in an hour. And I’m calling Lucifer and Vox now,” he said sharply.
“No, Val. Just you. Please please don’t make a big deal out of this I just, I don’t want to do this alone,” I pleaded.
Silence on the other end.
“I’ll be home in a half hour, cariño. Sit tight until then.”
True to his word, the door to the bathroom pushed open no more than thirty minutes later.
“Mi amore, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gathered my hair and pulled it back into a loose ponytail. “Tell me what hurts, bebita.”
“My stomach, Val. I can’t keep anything down. I’m behind where I wanted to be in organizing interviews, and I just…”
“Alright, calm down,” he replied as he sat down next to me on the bathroom floor. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”
I laid my head on his lap and tried to breath through the cramping in my gut. “It hurts, Val.”
He was quiet for a moment as he stroked my hair. “You got your period yesterday, right?”
I shook my head. “No, Val, I’m late, not that it matters, but…”
I felt the pain wash through me and I leaned back over the toilet as the bitter liquid came up. I felt his hands gently braid my hair, ensuring it was kept out of the way. “Ugh, I hate throwing up,” I muttered as I accepted the tissue he handed me.
“I’m concerned that this may not be the stomach bug,” he said slowly. “It’s been three weeks since we…”
“Val, you didn’t come in me after you bit me. And yeah, we fucked later but you again pulled out. My mouth took the brute of it. And my stomach. And my thighs…”
He didn’t look convinced. “Let me run a blood test, muñeca. Just to make sure. And I’ll check for other things too, like…like an elevated white blood cell count. Rule out an infection. If it all comes out clean, then we’ll know it's just the stomach flu.”
My head ached, both from dehydration and this conversation. “There are a thousand reasons my period could be late, Val. Stress? Remember the whole invasion of hell thing? I just…”
I doubled over again and Valentino again ensured my hair stayed out of the way. When I finally finished, I leaned back against him as I began to realize the gravity of his suggestion. “I can’t be pregnant, Val. This has to be the stomach flu.”
“We don’t know that, mi amore. And we won’t know that until I run a blood test. Please, princessa.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a plea in his voice I hadn’t heard from him.
“What happens if I am, Val?” I whispered as I curled up on the floor. “What happens then?”
“Then we handle it as it comes, mi amore.” His hand fell to my stomach. “I love you. And I will love anything that we create.”
I would have loved to kiss him at that moment. To tell him how much I loved him in return, how he, for the first time, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world. How he made me feel safe and cared for and protected.
Instead, I doubled over again.
“When was the last time you kept liquid down?” He asked with concern. “I have to put a catheter in for blood regardless, might as well get fluids in you. Show me, where in your belly does it hurt?”
“All of it. My entire abdomen hurts. But that’s probably from being so sick. I don’t think, I don’t think it's anything more.”
“Lay on your back for just a moment, cariño. Humor me,” he instructed.
Too tired and in too much pain to fight, I laid down on the towel I had tossed down earlier. His hands lifted my shirt up and I felt him press on my tummy.
“Does any of this hurt?” He asked with concern.
I felt my stomach grumble and I was sure he did too. I felt my cheeks turn pink.
“No, it's just…”
“Upset. I understand. Just making sure there is nothing majorly wrong,” he replied. His hand lingered over my belly button for just a moment before he pulled my shirt back down. “Let me see your arms.”
I tried to breath through another round of cramps but in seconds I knelt back over the toilet.
“Val, if you put a line in can you give me something to stop this?” I begged. “I’m so tired of being sick.”
He looked pained. “No, princessa. I mean, I could. But if it’s truly the stomach bug it has to run its course. Better to let it out than hold those germs in your belly.” He stood up and put his hand on my forehead. “I’m going to go downstairs and get the things I need, will you be okay for a moment?”
I groaned in response as I laid back down. “Val, I’m hot and cold at the same time. How is that even possible?”
“You’re running a fever, muñeca. I can give you something to bring it back down, but if I can convince you to get into a cool shower when I get back, that may make you feel even better.”
The thought alone made me more nauseous. I heard the door close behind him and I curled myself up into a ball. Pregnant? The thought hadn’t occurred to me until he said it, but I supposed it was possible. Hopefully not, but also…
Well, I wouldn’t mind being pregnant with his child. I thought back to his fantasy, my tummy round with his babies.
My thoughts on the subject subsided as I heaved again. And again. After what felt like forever, the bathroom door opened and Valentino walked back in carrying a black backpack. He knelt down next to me and laid his hand on the back of my neck.
“Do you want me to try to take blood now, or do you want to try a cool shower first?” He asked as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You’re burning up, bebita.”
“I don’t care,” I muttered. “I just don’t feel good.”
I heard the shower turn on and felt his hands on my body. I let myself go limp against him.
“Alright then sweetheart, let’s get these clothes off,” he replied as he tugged the shirt off over my head.
“What if I get sick again?” I asked as he lifted me to my feet.
“Then you throw up, it isn’t a big deal, princessa.” He guided me into the shower. “You should know well enough by now that I’ve seen it all in my line of work.”
That I didn’t doubt. But getting sick in front of him wasn’t on my list of desires. He guided me under the cool water and I leaned my bodyweight into him as the water hit my back.
“Valentino, it burns,” I hissed as he held me under the stream.
“No, honey, it doesn’t. Your body is just that warm,” he replied. “I checked your vitals on my phone. Your temps at a hundred and four, bebita. We have to get it down, and quickly.” He tilted my head back so my entire body was under the cold water and held me as I winced. “Val, I’m going to throw up, let me go.”
He released me and I bolted out of the shower, barely making it to the toilet.
“Fuck,” I coughed. “That hurts.”
“I meant in the shower,” he said with slight amusement in his voice as he pulled my soaking wet hair back with a towel.
“I refuse,” I shuddered. “That is a boundary I will not cross.”
He let out a low laugh. “Oh my princessa. Let’s get you dried off and taken care of.” He carefully tugged a fresh tee shirt over my head and combed my hair as quickly as he could, taking careful care to put it back in braids, pausing whenever I doubled over.
“Alright, muñeca, let me see your arms,” he knelt next to me.
Waves of nausea flooded through me. “Val, I can’t. I need to lay down.”
“You can, mi amore. Lay down if you must,” he replied, “that’s a good girl. Close your eyes.”
I heard him mutter in a mix of Spanish and English as he pressed on my skin gently.
“Don’t move, bebita,” he ordered softly. “That’s it. Little pinch.”
“I’m going to throw up again, Val,” I warned. “I need to sit up.”
“Then sit up, the needle is out.” He slipped his hand behind my back and I panted. Nothing came out.
“Dry heaves are the worst,” he replied sympathetically. “The nurse sent something for the nausea, something to make you a little more comfortable, and something for the fever. I’m going to take blood and then I’ll connect the line, okay mi amore?”
“I couldn’t fight you if I wanted to,” I replied as I laid back down on the floor.
“That’s not the point, cariño,” he said as he worked over me with a practiced hand. He held up a vial of blood and set it off to the side. “Let’s get you set and then I’ll run the test.”
“Doesn’t the lab have to do it?” I asked. “Ow, ow Val!”
He ignored my question. “I’m sorry, princessa,” he apologized as he finished the line. “I know it doesn’t feel good. Just a few more seconds and the pain should start to disperse.” He paused and gently laid a hand on my stomach, “you must be in pain if you’re letting me give you something for it. Are you sure it doesn’t hurt when I press here?”
I gritted my teeth. “Every muscle hurts, Valent….oh, relief,” I closed my eyes as the cramping in my belly stopped. Or maybe I didn’t feel it anymore. Either way, I didn’t care.
“My princessa,” he muttered with concern. “Lie still for a few moments, while I run the test and I’ll help you to bed.”
I closed my eyes and took the first deep breath since I got sick. A few moments later, I felt a tug on my arm and Valentino lifted me up.
“What did the test say?” I asked worriedly. “Val, am I…”
“No, princessa. You are not pregnant.” He replied quietly as he settled me in our bed. “It truly is just the stomach bug, you must have picked it up from somewhere.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and smoothed back my hair.
“I can’t…I can't decide if I’m sad or relieved.” I said softly.
“I am both, bebita,” he sat down next to me and laid a hand on my stomach for the third time that day. This time, he didn’t press down, he simply held it there, lost in thought. “But now we have the chance to do this the way you desire, mi amore. With the pretty ring on your finger first.” He gave me a smile and laid down next to me.
His words didn’t quite connect in my brain as I curled into him. “Wait, Val, can’t I get you sick?” I asked.
“Technically, yes. And it would suck. But I wouldn’t die from it,” he replied lightly. “And if I get sick from taking care of you, it will be worth it.” He kept one hand on my belly and gently pulled me to his chest. “Now close your eyes, cariño.”
#the vees#hazbin fluff#valentino x reader#valentino x you#vox x reader#the vees x reader#valentino#valentino x wife#hazbin hotel#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel valentino#valentino smut#velvette#vees#polyvees
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it's funny to me that my first chapter is close to 300 words and my second is already reaching 2000 and i'm not halfway done with it
#marlo’s stuff#it's fine lmao#but i might leave some of it for a next chapter#(<- probably lying)#i am basically just rewriting the first episode right now except mizukis here. so.
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@naffeclipse I don't know enough about cryptids to know if it's like. A Rule that they show up blurry in pictures, but it's definitely funny to assume that
#post let luce#my art#fnaf sb#fnaf sb au#cryptid sightings#cryptid!eclipse#cryptid!sun#cryptid!moon#naffeclipse#the geographically closest 'big' cryptid ik about is nessie/ loch ness monster and that's an ocean away#otherwise the most exposure I've had to cryptids was gravity falls journal 3 LMAO#so yea I'll just assume they don't photograph well as a rule#for the sake of the comic they also just chill outside of their vessel sometimes post-reveal#I imagine it might be like taking ur bra off after a long day#doesn't really bother you until it's gone and you breathe a sigh of relief#but yes have some pure funny feel good before my inevitable descent into madness (again) next chapter#still thinking about yesterday's snippet#posting this now but love how I had to leave the draft be for a bit after that last tag lest I start the madness now LMAO
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I'm so looking forward to iroh and zuko properly talking and seeing irohs reaction to zuko being gay.
Like we all know he doesn't agree with the fire nation rn but how will he react?
Will he not support him cause sokkas a guy? Will he not support him because it's SOKKA? Will he accept him? Will he reveal he's known for years zuko was gay?
Especially with everything that happened with zhao, regarding to what jee said to bato on their date. (Which is a very understandable perspective, zuko just got out of this very sexually traumatising situation and almost immediately starts a relationship (his first relationship) with sokka, but then again it is a very unique situation)
One thing I love about some atla fics is how they portray the FNs thoughts on queerness, cause on one hand they were one of the only country's (I think) that treated men and women the same but then again it's also the fucking fire nation.
And I also think zukos whole canon arc can be very comparative to queerness,
His dads an asshole and after speaking out against him he throws him out, and zuko try's for 3 years to regain his father's love and acceptance, and then faced with the opportunity of regaining it takes it immediately regardless of who or what he may hurt (iroh, his own morals etc) but once he makes it back home realises how fucked up everything is and eventually confronts his dad and openly tells him he doesn't agree with him then runs aways.
I also wonder if iroh secretly knows jee is queer it doesn't seem that likely to me but it also is iroh so who knows.
<3
I do think Iroh’s reaction will be a big moment for not only the story but for Zuko’s character development. Right now, Zuko’s technically still a prisoner, holding himself there by assuming Iroh will not understand or judge him when in reality he’ll never know what his uncle is thinking until they TALK ABOUT IT. (Which the FN royal family is just sooo good at healthy communication I don’t understand why this is so hard for them lol?!)
I do agree that the suddenness of the relationship combined with the intensity from both zuko and Sokka is very alarming for people looking at it from the outside (I mean we all totally get it cause we were there but others are like uhhhh hmmmm ok this might be concerning) so I get them gossiping and wondering if this is truly real or what the fucks going on with those boys.
I love Zukos canon arc because there’s just so much about zukos story that can be relatable no matter who you are and I think that’s why he is a fan favorite (it doesn’t explain why we torture him the way we do but ehhhh it’s fine haha)
Hmmmmmm does iroh know Jees gay? Depends on how saucy those music nights got ;)
#HAHAHA DO SEE THE JEEROH JOKE SOCKS?!?! I hope you see it through all your House reblogging nonsense haha#Jk you obsess over your new blorbos I support you!#I love this ask thank you#I also love that canon gave us so much to work with but left it loose enough we could do what we wanted#like I’ve read the fire nation written so many different ways in fics it’s insane#And I love all the unique thoughts!#I will continue to flesh out the FN little by little as we progress#An azula pov (or someone from her squad) will be part of every new chapter until the end#She’s a coming haha#I don’t know if iroh knows Jee is gay#Or that jee is like one date away from hooking up with bato haha#Or that zuko is already kind of hooking up with sokka (not really but I mean they’re getting prettttttttty snuggly haha)#But yeah idk I’m excited this next chapter it is A LOT#& we will be SUPER CLOSE to getting some answers to your questions lol#Thanks for this cool ask these are my favorite asks#Sorry if you’ve sent me an ask lately and I haven’t responded I’m getting better at that I promise#I will say though that I don’t respond to asks if I genuinely don’t know what to say or if I feel I might come off too mean or rude.#So yeah sorry anyone who’s ask I didn’t respond#(I also forget them in drafts and then feel weird about posting it after it’s been a month so I’m sorrrryyyyyy…)#Ok phew this was a lot of tags sorry#monsieugrgraves#Leaving it all behind#LIAB#ITF#ask
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need a part 2 of sweet scent with pervy daryl trying to explain it to you but you couldn't get it cuz you'd never done anything like it so he says he's gonna show you how good it feels and has to muffle your screams so no one in the house hears you as his cock practically splits your tiny cunt in half and he uses his thumb to rub ur clit to try and make u relax.........
I'm crazy but I'm free
masterlist and other infos || MDNI
sweet scent pt2.
perv!daryl x innocent!fem!reader
summary: after getting caught sniffing your panties by you, daryl persuades you into giving your precious virginity away to him while your dad's just in the next room.
warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl's is in late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18 [or older, it's up to you]), 18+ smut, praising, dubcon? (reader lacks enthusiastic consent at first and daryl has to do some convincing), panty gagging, p-in-v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, masturbation, manipulation, petnames, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mentions of dumbification, mentions of degradation.
word count: 6.2k
a/n: the following content contains some extreme fetishes and kinks that some readers might find disturbing, so if you're not comfortable with any of those, please do not proceed. click here to read part 1.
<previous chapter>
[...] His movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. He sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. He opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.
Then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...
You. Standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.
"U-uncle Daryl?"
---
Shit.
You definitely weren't what Daryl expected to see when he opened his eyes, the remains of his freshly busted nut all over his hand and his cock out, fully on display. For a good 5 seconds, he just freezed, completely unsure of what to do. But then, it hit him. He freaked out.
His eyes got as big as they possibly could and he immediately pulled his cock in his pants back again, clumsily trying to regain his composure, taking a little longer than usual due to his nervousness. Meanwhile, you just stood there with an unreadable expression. You didn't look exactly shocked, or angry, or anything like it. You looked strangely curious, with your head slightly tilted to the side.
Daryl shook his hand to get rid of some of his essence that was still sticking to it and then rubbed it on the side of his pants, on the hip area. Still not capable of looking you in the eyes, he quickly glanced at your frame and finally broke the awkward silence.
“Y/N? W-What'r'ya doin' here?” Stuttering was very unusual for Daryl, considering that although he was a man of very few words, he was always very direct and precise with them. Maybe playing it cool as if you hadn't just caught him in the act was the way out of that unpleasant situation.
“Well...” You let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to him. “This is my room.” His awkward smile immediately faded away.
“Oh, uh... I was jus’...” He looked around the room, searching for anything to use as an excuse for being there. But before he could start, you interrupted him.
“I didn't leave with the others, daddy told me to stay here to take care of you. He's in his room.” Your sweet girly voice had a way of calming Daryl, making him a bit more relaxed despite the current scenario and the shame he was feeling. But at the same time, just hearing you enunciate that one little word 'daddy' had him taking a deep breath to control his urges and not have another erection right there and then. You said that so innocently, because, well, it was in fact innocent since you referred to your actual father Hershel, but still, Daryl's twisted mind made it sound suggestive in his head.
“Take care'a me?” He pondered. Daryl wondered why your reaction was so calm considering what you had just witnessed. Maybe you didn't see much.
“You know, somebody's gotta change your bandage.” You smiled and pointed to his head that still had the bandage around it. “Actually, can you step to the side a bit? So I can...” You gestured to the dressing table behind him. He didn't say anything and just did as you said, moving to the side a little so you could approach the piece of furniture. In that moment, Daryl was the definition of what they call a standoffish.
“I was expecting to find you in your bed, resting. As you should, uncle Daryl.” Your voice carried a hint of playfulness along with a sincere worry. But the way you called him uncle for the second time that day gave him mixed sensations. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or weirded out by it. Or both.
You extended your hand, meaning to pull the drawer open to collect the items needed to change his bandage, which included the gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, sterile dressing and other kinds of medical stuff your dad had taught you how to handle, but you had to stop your hand midway when you noticed a white slimy thing dripping down the furnishing.
He followed your eyes, noticing how stared at the liquid. The farmer's sweet young daughter had just noticed the results of Daryl's arousal while it coated the dressing table. His mind started rushing with apprehension, you could tell your dad and everyone else how much of a perverted old man Daryl actually was, and he could be kicked out of the group, being left alone in the woods to fend for himself. It's not that he wasn't capable to make it on his own, but his family was important to him, he didn't wanna lose them over that type of thing that could change the way they looked at him forever.
“What's this?” You bended your knees a little, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to take a better look at the unknown substance. Now, you had completely forgotten the reason why you came into that room that was changing his bandage. Daryl lifted one of his eyebrows out of confusion. Did you really not know what that was? If that was the case, it kind of made sense.
Of course. Living on a farm far from the city, you had a close-knit relationship with your family in a way that they were pretty much all the people you would interact with. You had never had boyfriends, or kissed, or anything remotely romantic like that due to your dad's overprotectiveness, after all, you were his youngest daughter. All you knew about the existence of sexual stuff had been taught by him, when he mainly warned you about the terrible consequences of that type of action and that you had to stay innocent.
You didn't really know what he meant by all that, since he was very vague in his descriptions about sex. Hershel just used to say that there were certain areas on your body that you should never let a boy get near and you knew better than to disobey your father's orders, being aware that he always knew what was best for you. Not even your own hands had ever darted down your body to meet those spots more than once or twice before quickly pulling away. You wanted to remain innocent, whatever that meant.
But Daryl was the observant type, and he quickly caught up that you knew nothing about that type of thing. He knew you had always lived in that farm, away from the perverted hands of boys your age (or older like him) so connecting the dots wasn't tricky at all.
Oh, the things he could show you. That thought alone brought a somewhat creepy smirk to Daryl's face as he stared into the wall, contemplating the opportunity he had in hands to finally have his way with you. He knew he still had to be careful though.
“Daryl?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You turned your head to look at him before turning your entire body to face him. Your gaze was curious.
“This?” He motioned with his chin towards the dripping substance on the piece of furniture, looking out of place. “Ya don'... know wha' it is?” He double checked, wanting to make sure you were actually unfamiliar erotic nature of what you saw him doing.
“Well, I saw where it came from.” You revealed, not sounding accusing at all, just simply stating a fact.
“...How long 've ya been watchin' me?” He asked with an almost audible gulp. Though he was considerably excited about teaching you all that new stuff, he was still unsure if he should or not. It'd been so long since his last sexual interaction with someone else that he could barely remember it. And doing it with the daughter of the man that gave him a roof to put over his head in times like these? That was risky.
“A while.” You stated. Now, Daryl could notice how you started staring at his crotch area with a renewed sense of interest. That meant you had definitely seen his dick despite his efforts to hide it when he first got caught just moments ago. He wondered if you knew what it was or its purpose.
You stepped even closer to him and he couldn't help but step back slightly. “I've never seen somebody pee like that. Are you... Sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “The bathroom's just in the next room, you know...” Your worried tone was awfully adorable to Daryl. And well, he was indeed sick, but not in the way you meant it. Nonetheless, the amusing way you mistook his semen for urine made him share a light chuckle.
“Nah, tha's... Tha's not piss.” He bluntly let out. You walked across your room and over to your bed, sitting on its edge. Daryl followed you until he was standing in front of you. He crossed his arms.
“How so?” You tilted your head to the side with a sincere curiosity displayed on your face. You had seen the way he rubbed that one thing of his that you weren't sure how it worked until that slimy liquid started oozing out of it, deeply stimulating your curiosity.
“Ya sure ya wanna know?” His tone sounded more dark and his voice turned hoarser, however, that didn't seem to faze you. You nodded frantically. “Aigh', i'll show ya.” Once again, a smirk creeped onto his face. Your eyes were all sparkly as you attentively listened to him. “Sometimes people touch themselves ta feel good, ya know?” You shrugged, not really sure of what he was talking about.
As he spoke, he took light and slow steps towards you, like a predator preparing to hunt its prey, until his knees was almost touching yours. “Ya ever touched yerself, darlin'?” Despite the raspiness in his voice, it was now rather calm, with a surge of some sweetness to it.
“Like how?” You asked.
“Like here...” He extended his hand with a gentle movement, his finger tracing a path from the valley between your breasts down to your bellybutton. The slightly ticklish sensation made you flinch a little. Then, his finger continued making its way down to your lower belly, stopping inches above your clothed pussy. “'N here...”
Your breath hissed, and you started remembering how your dad told you those parts were sacred and shouldn't be touched by anyone, no matter who. The uncertainty was obvious in your face as you discreetly pushed his hand away. “Uncle Daryl...”
“Ya can call me jus' Daryl, sweetheart. 'M yer friend, remember?” He tried his best to sound convincing.
“Yes, Daryl...” You corrected yourself with an awkward chuckle. “I... I think I shouldn't.” You avert your gaze from his.
“Why not? Dontcha wanna know wha' it's like?” He leaned in a little closer, resting his hands on your thighs. You made a motion to try to push him away again, but he insisted on his touch. “Don' be scared, doll. 'M not gunna hurt ya. Quite the opposite.” He smirked while practically whispering the last part, making sure to sound extra coaxing.
You weren't really sure what you were afraid of, exactly. You just knew that you wanted to make your father happy and proud of you, since he'd always been so caring towards you and your family. In the end, you just wanted daddy's approval.
“I'm... I'm not sure. I don't know, it doesn't feel right.” You confessed, your voice filled with worry. Daryl knew how to be intimidating when he wanted to.
“'S okay, doll.” He spoke the way one would speak to a puppy. And giving you no time to protest, he used one of his hands to tug at the hem of your white tank top and pulled it up in one go, revealing your bare tits to him. He bit his lips, noticing you weren't wearing a bra. As quick as he did so, you felt so ashamed of your sudden nudity that you lifted your arms up to try to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes. “D-Daryl...”
“Shhhh...” He shushed you against your ear, making shivers run down your spine. Although you were uncertain, the way he spoke to you made certain parts of your body warm up, an unusual sensation for you. “Ya got such pretty tits... Ya shouldn't hide 'em away from me.” As he said that, he gently grabbed one of your breasts, giving it the slightest squeeze not to startle you. You couldn't help but let out a small squeak at the unfamiliar sensation. Weirdly enough, it felt good in a way you had never felt before.
“Ya like tha'?” He whispered. “It's nice, but... Daddy wouldn't like that. I just wanna make daddy happy.” You just wanted to be a good girl. Perhaps, you could find a different way of doing that.
“Yeah?” He muttered practically to himself as he got an idea. “Well, I can be yer daddy for today. Like tha', ya could make yer daddy happy in a way. Yer jus' gotta lemme lead ya, aigh'?” He didn't feel guilty in the slightest for making you engage in one of his twisted fetishes while you were barely aware of it.
“H-huh?" You were uncertain about the reason behind his suggestion.
“Ya can pretend 'm yer daddy.” He continued playing her mind. You weren't really sure if you liked the idea to depict him as your old man, but you tried to convince yourself to play along.
“But... What will he think of me when he finds out?” You fidgeted with your fingers. Meanwhile his grip on your breast continued to intimidate you.
“He don' have ta know. C'mon, dontcha wanna make daddy happy?” He conveyed in a hush against your ear, his thumb now grazing your sensitive nipple, making you feel that one funny sensation again. You couldn't help but lean into his touch.
You closed your eyes, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. The nervousness in you due to the newness of it all made your lips dry. The way Daryl was making you feel was curious, and you just wanted more of it. He took your silence as a confirmation.
“Good girl.” He cooed before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, very gently sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back instantly.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
You just wanted to be a good girl. And if following Daryl's lead was a way to do it, you were all in for it. Your senses awakened as a cascade of unfamiliar yet electrifying sensations coursed through you, a dance of pleasure that tingled on your skin. In that moment, a subtle warmth enveloped you, as if you had discovered a secret realm of bliss previously unknown.
You reached for his head, the feeling of your delicate fingernails scratching against his scalp and pulling him closer sent tingling sensations all over his body. Instinctively, you slightly opened your legs at the pleasure and that drew a smirk onto Daryl's face.
“Eager fer daddy, huh?” The way he referred to himself like that made a faint blush spread across your cheeks, although you couldn't wrap your head around the reason why. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.
“I need ya to trust me, 'kay?” He said as he pulled your shorts down and then tossed them aside, revealing your white cotton panties. Once again, you felt to urge to hide, not knowing how to deal with someone else seeing you naked for the first time. But before your legs could involuntarily close, his big hands groped your thighs, keeping them spread apart. “'S okay, sunshine.” He practically manhandled you, gently but firmly pushing your body downward so you rested you back on the mattress.
The new position made you feel strangely vulnerable, but it wasn't exactly a bad feeling. Your doe eyes had a mix of unsureness and curiosity as they meet his. Sensing the mixed sensations within you, Daryl leaned in to place a small peck on your plush lips, aiming to make you more comfortable. The feeling of his rough lips against your soft ones so suddenly almost made you flinch, but they felt rather inviting. As he pulled back, a confident smirk could be seen displayed on his face.
The archer's rugged fingers traveled their way down your body once again until they found the soft fabric of your panties, making your breath hiss. He brushed his index and middle fingers against your clothed pussy lips. Just with that, the dampness was so obvious that a small wet spot could be seen on the cotton fabric right where your slit would be. He dragged his fingers across it until they reached your clit.
“This lil spot righ' here...” He kept his hand there. “...is magical." For now, he just added a small pressure, testing the waters and watching close to your reaction, but that was enough to draw a whimper from you, the unknown sensation making you grasp his forearm. It indeed felt magical. You bit your lips and though you couldn't see it, Daryl shared a satisfied smile at the way he was able to get you all hot and bothered with just a simple touch.
Your legs squirmed a bit and he took that as a good sign, so he continued. Now, he started slowly rubbing your clit in circular motions over the fabric of your panties. Your back arched again, and you accidentally let out a dangerously loud moan.
“Nuh-uh.” He brought his other index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. “Ya gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” His tone was mostly reprimanding, which strangely excited you. You nodded, enjoying the authority he guided you with through those new sensations. You had touched yourself there before, but never like that. The sensation always felt somewhat wrong, but with Daryl, it was totally different.
You were still kind of upset at yourself for disobeying your dad, but the way Daryl worked his fingers so skillfully had you seeing stars. You never thought you'd be handing out your innocence for some old redneck you met just a while ago, but there you were, completely given to him.
In the beginning, Daryl used to always kind of avoid you, despite your attempts of trying to get to know at least a little bit about the mysterious archer. He knew that deep down, those desires towards you were always there, since the very first time he saw you. At first, he tried to brush them off, but now, all he wanted was to be the one to feel your tight virgin cunt for the first time.
In a swift motion, his big hands tugged at the hem of your underwear. “Up.” He ordered, gesturing for you to lift your hips so he could pull them down. You didn't argue at all and promptly did as he said, reveling in the control he had over you. It was like he dominated your weak mind. “Good girl.” He cooed once again. Oh, if only he knew what that did to your little inexperienced pussy.
After tossing the piece of fabric aside, he reached for you knees, gently spreading them apart. The sight of your glistening bare cunt had his mind rushing through all the things he could do to it. He wondered if he would be able to hold himself back and be gentle or if he would end up losing control. After all, he hadn't done anything like that in such a long time that his whole body was aching for it. He stared at it in an almost scary way, you'd never seen his eyes so hungry.
If his cock hadn't awaken until that moment, now it was hard as a fucking rock. He had to really fight the urges to pull it out his pants and dick you down right there and then, but he knew he had to take it easy on you at least for now and get you nice and ready for him, even though you were already visibly dripping wet.
“Is this all fer me?” His tone was almost mocking. You weren't sure what he meant by that, not fully understanding the concept of natural lubrication, but you just nodded with your eyes closed. Something about being in that position felt so right, so freeing that it had you wondering why you never did that before, and why you were so afraid of trying it in the first place.
Daryl's hands sensually traced their way down your body, exploring your every contour until they reached the back of your thighs, pushing them back until your wet cunt was all over his face. He tried his best to control himself, but his own arousal was practically taking over his mind, so he buried his face on it like a starving man. As soon as his wet tongue made contact with your sensitive little clit and he lapped at your abundant juices, you immediately gasped, gaining a look of disapproval from Daryl.
“I warned ya.” That was all he mumbled before taking your panties he had just took off you and sticking them into your mouth almost aggressively. You could taste yourself on the white fabric, and although it felt strange, it turned you on even more. Now, your little sounds were muffled by the piece of clothing as he resumed eating you out, flicking his tongue on hour clit and burying it between your folds. You never thought a feeling like that could actually exist as you experienced that overwhelming rush of pleasure, a novel sensation coursing through you sending shivers down your spine as a delightful warmth enveloped your entire being. You tried your best to hold back your sounds since your dad was home and could hear you if you slipped, but Daryl's skilled tongue and lips made it an extremely difficult task, even with your panties stuck in your mouth.
He continued working your clit with his mouth, and maybe a little sooner than it should, a tingling sensation forming in your lower belly caught your attention. Daryl noticed the obvious shift in your demeanor and took the panties out of your mouth so you could speak. “D-daddy...” You experimented the honorific he had previously suggested. “I-I feel funny.” You whimpered, squirming a bit harder than before as it started feeling as if you were gonna burst at any moment. Daryl smirked against your skin and gave your pussy a last peck before pulling away, making you whine in disapproval. It had only been seconds but you immediately missed the sensation. You craved it.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” He said. Not yet what, you wondered. But you still wanted to be good for him, so you nodded as the good girl you were. You couldn't think of anything you wouldn't do for him in that moment, considering how desperate you were to feel that pleasure again.
Your curious eyes followed his hands as they reached to unbuckled his own belt, setting it aside. He undid his pants and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxer briefs to you. There. There was the place where you saw that sticky white thing shooting out from. Now, the excitement in you was unbearable as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. Your eyes visibly lighted up and that didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.
“Yer gunna love this, lil' girl.” He bit his lips. Something was very obviously bulging in his boxers, which you found odd since it didn't seem to look so obvious when it was in his pants even though now it looked so big. Either way, you were completely drawn to it. You glued your eyes to his crotch while he pulled his underwear down.
You had heard about it, but you had never actually seen one of those before. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, his pubic hair had grown wild and untamed, a reflection of the makeshift survival and the absence of the once routine grooming practices. Not that he used to care a lot about that kind of thing before the outbreak. In a way, you thought it looked charming, suiting his rugged looks and personality.
You could feel your mouth starting to water at the sight of his cock standing tall and proud in front of you. Since the archer had touched his mouth to your cunt, you wondered if you could do the same to him in that same area on his body. As if he could smell your thoughts, he brought a hand to your head, gently pulling you closer to his crotch while he held it by the base.
“Ya wanna have a taste?” He slyly suggested and chuckled at your frantic nodding. Leaning closer to it, you felt the musky and raw scent that emanated from it, which made you even more drawn to the possibilities that ran through your mind. But at the same time, you didn't know what to do or how to handle it.
Bringing his hand to his mouth, he collected some saliva from it and rubbed the wetness on the tip of his cock to lubricate it. “Gimme yer hand.” He reached out his hand, and instantly you complied, allowing him to direct it towards his cock. He enveloped your hand around it, keeping his atop yours, slowly starting to move it up and down. It felt warm and hard against your soft fingers, and the way he threw his head back and quietly groaned made your stomach churn with butterflies. “Fuck baby, tha' feels good.” He had to whisper due to the dangerous presence of your dad in the house threatening to put your little playtime to an end.
You smiled proudly at yourself. You liked the way he sounded and you wished to draw more of those grunts from his lips. And Daryl, being just as eager as you, removed your hand from his length, holding it by the base. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, his touch almost feeling impatient as he pulled you closer to his cock. “Open yer mouth.” He didn't have to tell you twice. Therefore, he guided his swollen tip to your awaiting tongue, smearing his salty pre-cum all over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to hold back any compromising sounds.
Your lips instinctively closed around his tip, trying to mimic the way he sucked on your clit, aiming to make him feel as good as he previously did to you. The act not only gave him pleasure, but it also brought you a deep sense of satisfaction, making you hum against his sensitive skin. The vibrations from your vocal chords sent a chill through his body and he couldn't hold back this time, the warm sensation of your mouth being so tempting and promising that he pushed his hips forward a bit too much, causing it to hit the back of your throat and you to gag on it.
He immediately retracted his body, removing his cock from the velvety confines of your mouth. Your eyes got a little watery but you smiled either way. “Sorry, princess.” He said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice.
“It's fine, I liked it.” You confess, looking up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stood in front of you. Your innocent expression contrasting with the dirty nature of your encounter made him impossibly hornier, and he didn't feel like waiting any longer. “Fuck” He almost whined. Eagerness to feel you wrapping around him filled his body, so he grabbed you by the arms, not too rough so he wouldn't hurt you, and put on your feet against the pink wall of your room.
He brought a hand to your head, pressing it against the wall. You gasped a little at his roughness but soon you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your slicky slit and clit. “'S gunna feel good, I promise.” He mumbled against your ear, making your body hair stand on end. The sensation had you biting your lips to try and not make any sounds, but your efforts were proven useless as you felt the pressure of his tip carefully going in your cunt, causing a burning sensation and you accidentally let out a loud cry.
Daryl's hand went immediately to your mouth, forcefully pressing his palm against your lips to muffle your sounds, your dad shouldn't hear Daryl using his sweet daughter in his own home after all. “Shhh, shhh.” He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment. You wrapped around him so tight even though he only had his tip in yet that he couldn't restrain himself from pushing his hips forward a little more, intensifying the burning sensation while he stretched your virgin cunt out.
“'S okay, ya can take it.” In that moment, you were confused at why he was making you feel so good just a moment ago, and now he's ripping your little pussy apart. But even though it hurt, it was somewhat pleasant to feel so full in such a new way, so you stuck your ass towards him, inviting him in. While still keeping his hand pressed on your mouth, he brought his other one to your hips, gripping them a little too tight.
Without warnings, he buried his entire length in you in one swift motion, filling you up to the brim and worsening the burning to a whole new level. The only thing that kept you from letting out a scream at the sudden invasion was his hand muffling your pathetic sounds and the fact that you'd be in deep trouble if your dad found out about that, but even so, Daryl couldn't help but quietly grunt at the intense sensation. He didn't know he missed fucking a warm cunt so badly until he was completely inhumed inside you. “Good girl. Yer being so good fer daddy.” He praised you. His words had an immediate effect on you, making your pussy even wetter, if that was even possible.
You didn't even care if it hurt or not anymore, so you just stood there, caught in the paradox of sensation — a mix of pain and pleasure etched across your face. The twinge felt like a sweet ache, and yet, an irresistible allure pulled her deeper into the experience, as if the discomfort held a hidden charm that she couldn't resist exploring.
Despite the pain, you found herself oddly drawn to the sensation, craving more as if the discomfort carried an inexplicable appeal that kept you coming back for another taste. So you slightly wiggled your ass against Daryl's body, moving his cock a little inside you. The feeling of being stretched out had you desperate for more.
Daryl's warm breath hit your ear as he let out a light-hearted laugh at your reaction, sending delicious goosebumps all over your body. His hips started going back and forth to meet yours in a sensual dance. He tried to be gentle at first, but your virgin cunt was just so wet and warm that he couldn't help it but succumb to his primal desires. “Jus' like tha', princess. Take this fat cock.” He whispered loud enough so only you could hear, making you weak in the knees.
His calloused hand let go of your hips to find your clit, starting to rub it with just the right pressure to make you squirm under his touch. The mixed sensations of intense pleasure and pain confusing your brain, making you melt like putty in his hands. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through you, leaving your head blissfully empty as if every thought had been swept away by the sheer intensity of the sensation, which was exactly what Daryl wanted, to turn you into a brainless little fucktoy for him.
If a few months ago somebody told you that you'd be letting some perverted older man take advantage of you in your own room, you would've laughed right in their face. Giving your innocence away to anybody used to feel like such a distant reality, and now there you were, pressed against the wall by Daryl's sweaty body while he mercilessly pounded your no longer virgin cunt, making you experience the most pleasurable pain you could ever feel.
As he continued bucking his hips like a desperate animal, you drooled against his hand, your brain now reduced to putty due to the overpowering sensation that dominated your every sense. “Nngh...” Your muffled moans stirred an even deeper desire within Daryl, turning him as primal as one could be. Your body language made it obvious that you were close to your orgasm, and this time, he didn't plan to deny you of it.
But you had never experienced something like that. You didn't know pleasure could get so extreme that could made you burst, so as the sensation built and grew stronger, it also made you unsure about where it was taking you, and you tried to fight the feeling. Daryl's skilled fingers working your clit only threw you even closer to the edge and you felt like your legs could fail at any moment.
Noticing the shift in your demeanor, he muttered against your ear. “Jus' let it go, baby. Trust me, don' hold it.” His tone was strangely sweet considering what you were both up to, but his encouraging words relaxed you a little, and as he intensified the rubbing on your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in not even if you wanted to, whatever it was.
Then, it hit you. An entirely unfamiliar and intense sensation washed over you, catching you off guard. It felt like uncharted emotional and physical territory, leaving you completely stunned, wide-eyed, and grappling with the unexpected intensity of the experience, something that almost made you mad at your dad from convincing you of staying away from it for so long.
Daryl had to intensify the pressure of his hand against your lips, but even so, he wasn't able to muffle your cries completely as your body convulsed and you were sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds. “Good girl, cum for me.” You didn't know what that word meant, but considering the situation, you understood that it probably had something to do with the new type of pleasure you just experienced.
As the orgasmic sensation slowly faded away, it was replaced with an even more overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. You squirmed even harder and you swore you could cry if he continued using your cunt like that, not giving you any breaks to catch your breath. You'd been turned into a whimpering and drooling mess, a total slut for his cock. You wanted him to have his way with you and you knew that if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you all day without arguing.
The intense clenching of your tight pussy around his length initiated his own orgasm, and now it was his turn to experience the compelling feeling of being right on the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, turn 'round." He desperately voiced, but he didn't even waited for you before decisively grasping your shoulders, swiftly turning you to face him. As he did so, he removed his cock from inside you and stroked it hard and fast for a few seconds with just enough pressure to make himself burst.
Your mesmerized eyes watched as the pleasure took over his body. And now, it all made sense as he started shooting his load aiming right on your bare pussy, just as he was doing earlier today when you first caught him in your room. The warm sticky substance coated your cunt and it was so much that it felt like it would never end, leaving you astonished. You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.
You two stared into each other's eyes while desperately trying to catch your breaths, sharing a small chuckle and satisfied smiles. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead and now, you knew who to come up to when you feel that funny feeling in your lower belly again. You knew Daryl had what it took to take care of your needs.
Without saying anything else, he pulled his briefs and pants back up again, adjusting his clothes. Then, he reached for his pocket, pulling out those panties he had stolen earlier and putting them on you again, leaving his load smeary and sticking to your skin. “Leave it there.” He hoarsely voiced, ordering you to walk around with his cum inside your clothes while no one else knew of it except the both of you.
“And these...” He walked over to your bed and bended his knees a little so he could reach for the white cotton panties he had tossed aside right before railing you and put them in his pocket.
“...'M gunna keep these fer later.”
a/n: omg guys the first part of sweet scent got over 1.1k notes and that's like??? insane??? tysm for all ur support, that's crazy. it was so much fun to write both parts and i'm so thankful if you read it this far!! i hope y'all have a great and happy holidays xx
taglist: @imagininghim , @murdadixon , @epilepsywarrior8787 , @darklydixon
#daryl dixon#the walking dead#norman reedus#twd daryl#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon twd#daryl twd#daryl x you#daryl dixon x you#daryl smut#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x yn#daryl x y/n#daryl drabbles#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl imagines#daryl dixon imagines#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl x female reader#twd daryl dixon#daryl the walking dead#rick grimes#smut#daryl oneshot
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 15: Bonnie
Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 7456 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst
A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.
Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.
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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise.
You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes.
“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom.
You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine.
You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past.
Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface.
Even he can’t protect you from this.
You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing.
John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem.
You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry.
You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one.
Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep.
You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness.
You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned.
You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?”
John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.”
You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief.
“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades.
“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.”
You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.”
“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake.
You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it.
John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what.
You might never get to know.
It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep.
Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent.
“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you.
He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed.
“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons.
“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.”
You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any.
“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.”
You can only imagine how that went.
Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously.
“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door.
“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own.
“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.”
He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between.
“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..”
“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you.
You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do.
He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does.
He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”
“You're tired.”
You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright.
You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”
“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt.
Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm.
You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again?
“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.
Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”
“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”
Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response.
“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say.
“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”
Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”
He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”
“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”
“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”
You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger.
John trusts him, so you should be able to as well.
Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask.
Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own.
He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago.
“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.”
He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position.
“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over.
“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.”
You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run.
“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him.
You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious.
“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.”
You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing?
You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good.
Is violence and death really the path to the greater good?
“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil.
You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head.
He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.
His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady.
“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.”
He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired.
“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.”
It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch.
You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too.
All he's waiting on is you saying the word.
He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something.
The thought makes you want to cry.
“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump.
You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?”
“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book.
You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being.
“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face.
The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal.
You need to rectify this, and fast.
You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety.
Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory.
“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”
You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less.
“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door.
You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.
“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?”
Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.”
Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.
“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line.
Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news.
“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?”
“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you.
“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes.
“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.”
He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin.
“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers.
“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.”
Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours.
“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.”
You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver.
Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it.
“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look.
The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room.
He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly.
“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.
“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”
“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”
“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”
Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.”
“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”
You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”
“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him.
“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.
He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal.
Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved.
Well, you suppose he is.
He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much.
It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you.
Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh.
“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.
You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg.
“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt.
He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric.
You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him.
“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?”
You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?”
He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you.
You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely.
“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread.
You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you.
“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face.
“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans.
You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets.
“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.”
You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation.
“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you.
Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips.
He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair.
“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage.
“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you.
The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position.
“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk.
He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers.
His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth.
You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin.
“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.
“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock.
“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday.
“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.”
Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs.
“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand.
Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm.
“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips.
You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other.
You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length.
“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his.
“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.”
You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position.
Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck.
“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat.
You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life.
You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat.
“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.”
He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again.
You’re in for a long night.
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#x reader#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o#omegaverse#john price x reader#captain price x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle garrick x reader#gax x reader
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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)
PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE
PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX
PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART TEN
PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC
SUMMARY — Feyd-Rautha focuses on bringing back the spice production to full efficency while his wife plots against The Baron. The ghosts of her past are haunting her in the Arrakeen Palace where her family lived and died.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. This chapter is quite long so I think the next one will be the last...? Of course I am open to write some additional chapters with these characters in the future 👀 Thank you everyone supporting my work 🙏🏻😭 I don't know when I'll post the next / last chapter. Next week I hope but it might take me more time than usual because I have to catch up with uni work finally lol
WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death
WORD COUNT — 8,170
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)
Feyd-Rautha was barely able to hide his excitement on that day. Becoming the Governor of Arrakis was a huge deal – not only it proved that he was his uncle’s worthy successor if he was given such responsibility, but also Arrakis remained the most important planet under the Harkonnen rule due to the spice resources. Controlling this planet was like controlling the universe.
Before the official ceremony would begin, he had to deal with the formalities, all dressed up in the accurate black leather attire and pride on his face. Then his wife entered the throne room accompanied by the guards and from that moment he could only focus on her.
Her black leather dress’ design was mimicking his uniform’s one and her face was hidden by the veil made of chains and gemstones. She walked past him and bowed down in front of his uncle. Feyd knew that was the custom but it still made him clench his jaw and blood boil.
She straightened herself and fixed her dress on her abdomen as it was getting too tight in that area. Feyd smirked at the sight of her womb getting visibly swollen with his child. With his heir.
His wife signed the contract about him becoming the new Governor of Arrakis as the Atreides signet ring sparkled on her pinky finger. The truth was, her signature was not required there at all but the Baron loved to humiliate her in this way. However, she managed to do it with such dignity. Feyd wondered if she still felt like an Atreides. That signet ring wasn’t leaving her pinky finger at all ever since it had been adjusted to her size.
He wondered if it was a symbol of power for her or did she keep it for sentimental reasons.
Sentiment. That word was new in Feyd-Rautha’s dictionary. But now, when he watched his wife standing behind him with her hands clasped on her womb, he swore he could feel it.
He couldn’t explain most of the things happening inside his body at the sight of her. It was more than plain desire or sexual attraction. In fact, he had had lovers more adventurous than her and surely more experienced. But he had never met a woman like that.
She made him think of his mother, especially now, when she was expecting his child. He wondered what kind of mother she would be. Would she… love… his son? Or would he be another pawn in her court games…?
His mother was cold and distant but only recently Feyd had realised it was no reason to kill her. Was it possible that some part of him regretted it? His uncle had manipulated him into doing something he couldn’t truly understand back in the day – an act impossible to undo and sealing his murderous fate.
But even his mother had never touched him so gently like his wife. And he knew that it was weak to crave that but he did – he craved more from her and her only. He would kill anyone looking at her the wrong way but she could disrespect him in any way and he’d still be on his knees for her. He had never been as obedient to his uncle. He had feared him as a little boy and then he had hated him, waiting for his turn on the Harkonnen throne. The obedience to his wife was dictated by admiration and… sentiment.
Yes, that was a new word in his dictionary.
And his harpies… Well, he had been attached to them but killing them had felt cold – he hadn't even felt sorry.
The room slowly filled with people who were to witness his nomination for the Governor of Arrakis. Feyd stood proudly and already imagined the day he would be nominated The Baron Harkonnen.
And when his uncle officially named him the Governor, Feyd grabbed his face and brought it down for an angry kiss that was a mockery of gratitude. In that kiss there was a promise of the upcoming succession of the much more important title. In that kiss there was the Harkonnen poison and everyone cheered but the Baron knew.
He knew.
You were laying on your bed on the ship inside your cabin and playing with the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. It felt surreal to realise that under different circumstances you would had made the same journey a few months earlier with your family when your father had been gifted Arrakis.
Your stream of thoughts was interrupted abruptly by Feyd walking inside the cabin.
“Apparently, Rabban has no idea we are coming,” he announced with a smirk and sat on the bed next to you, waiting for your approval like a little boy after telling his mother exciting news.
“Why do you hate him so?” You only asked and his smirk dropped in an instant. “Is he not your brother?”
“Do you love yours?” Feyd tilted his head a little as he watched you carefully.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you smiled sadly at him and caressed your bump. “He is dead and so is his older sister. But in that relationship, I was Rabban and Paul was you.”
“I am better than Rabban. He means nothing,” Feyd shrugged his arms, visibly annoyed at the fact that you scolded him and started asking questions instead of sharing his excitement.
“Do you think you will catch a tan on Arrakis?” You changed the subject and chuckled at the confused glance he gave you.
“I’m not going there for vacation,” he moved closer to you on the bed and placed his hand on your womb. You felt its warmth spreading all over your body. “And neither are you,” he reminded you.
“I know.”
“The medic says that the Arrakis might do you good. The sun and all,” Feyd explained, a bit awkwardly.
“Yes, I know. But it is also not a very pleasant environment. It is hot and dry,” you sighed. “And full of spice.”
“You will have everything you want and need there, my Baroness,” Feyd leaned in to suck on your neck – his idea of a romantic kiss. You leaned back and sighed at the pleasure.
“How big do you think he is now?” You caressed your husband’s hand gently and he moved away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “Our son. Do you think he is still smaller than your hand?” You bit on your lower lip. “I like to imagine him so little that your hand covers him whole when you place it on my womb.”
“Do you think of him often?” Feyd asked and you furrowed your brows at his question.
“Of our son?” You wanted to make sure and he nodded. “All the time,” you answered with all honesty. “And you…?” You asked, carefully.
“All the time,” Feyd nodded and looked down at his hand caressing your bump.
“And what do you think?” You were scared to know the answer but you needed to know it.
“I’m proud to have a son. He will be the Baron one day and I will train his body to become even stronger than mine. And you will train his mind to be sharp like yours,” Feyd looked at you. He was serious but you chuckled at that as you caressed his cheek with your thumb.
“Just promise me that you won’t do to him what has been done to you,” you whispered as the smile disappeared from your face. “Please,” you pleaded.
“It has to be done,” was all he said as his jaw clenched.
“No, it doesn’t,” you shook your head. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes. Thinking of what your husband had gone through was painful enough but imagining your son going through the same thing was even worse.
“How else do you want him to be a great warrior?” Feyd laughed at you. “He will need discipline.”
“Discipline does not have to mean abuse. I want him to follow your steps out of admiration and respect. Do you want your own son to feel the same way towards you that you feel towards your uncle?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want your son to plot how to get rid of you? To wait impatiently for you to finally die and rot?”
“No, I do not,” he admitted after a short while of hesitation.
“Then we will do it my way,” you stated.
“I don’t want my children to be weaklings,” Feyd drawled as his hand squeezed your womb possessively.
“Neither do I,” you assured him. “And it insults me greatly that you think that I would raise them to be weak. I hate weakness,” you gave him a stern look.
“There’s your answer why I hate my brother,” he said and moved down to lay his head on your womb. You carefully caressed his temples in a soothing manner.
You still had to play little games with him sometimes, you assumed it would always be like this one way or another. But you loved him. Yes, you loved him.
Princess Atreides would rather die than admit that. For the Harkonnen na-baroness it was difficult to admit her feelings, too. But you didn’t mind giving up and finally allowing yourself to confess the truth. It was making you feel less lonely in the world. Perhaps it was love dictated by the fact you had no one else around. Perhaps you loved the way he worshipped you. Perhaps you loved him for the way he was making you feel so powerful and important. But at the end of the day, it was love. Not that you planned to say it out loud.
It was true that you hated weakness but Feyd-Rautha was yours. If he was to die, you’d die, too. You had no home to go to, no family member to turn to. All you had was him. Him and the dream of the life you two were supposed to live one day.
You knew that the black colour was a bad choice for the planet like Arrakis. But you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. As a Harkonnen you had to establish dominance in your House’s way. Your arrival dress had to be black and made of a flowy material with a semi-transparent veil to protect your skin from the hot rays of sunshine and the wind full of harsh sand and spice.
The very first step you took outside the ship nearly made you dizzy. It felt so odd after so many months to feel the sunlight on your skin and to see the colours while not being inside any building – even if the colours of Arrakis were not many.
“My Lady,” Astra and Cara followed you outside, both widening their big, black Harkonnen eyes at the sight of the desert, “are you alright?”
“Yes, my girls, I am,” you held their hands.
“Let’s go inside, na-baroness,” the medic joined you. “At this time of the day it is recommended not to go out,” he explained and you nodded before following him with your girls, guards and all the servants carrying your things. Feyd was already inside the palace with his uncle and dealing with an embarrassed and humiliated Rabban.
You looked up through your veil and examined the sight of the building in front of you. It was not much cosier than the Harkonnen fortress on Giedi Prime. On the inside the design was raw as well, but some part of you was already used to such an environment.
“My Lady,” one of the servants approached you. He had already been living there for quite some time now as he had come to Arrakis with Count Rabban. “Shall we prepare the rooms for you and na-baron or will you take the room that belonged to the previous Duke? Count Rabban did not take it, therefore we left it untouched,” he informed you and you froze for a second.
“My father’s room? It is left untouched?” You gasped.
“Yes, my Lady na-baroness, Duchess Atreides,” the man was bowing down so low you became concerned about his spine.
“Enough of the titles, take me there,” you ordered and then you turned around at your servants. “Wait here. I will let you know what room I am taking.”
“My Lady,” they all nodded as you followed the man alone. You didn’t want even Astra and Cara around you because you couldn’t tell what your reaction to your father’s chambers would be.
“Behind that door, na-baroness,” the servant bowed down and pointed at the doors. You pushed them and let them close behind you as your body trembled at the sight. You lifted the veil off of your face and looked around.
The room was arranged in a similar way as your father’s chamber back on Caladan. Duke Leto hated any form of mess and he had everything always put in its place. You wandered around and touched all the personal belongings – his chair, his desk… You froze at the sight of the pictures he had there. One picture was of him and Lady Jessica, the other one was of you and Paul. There was even a tiny picture from his wedding day with your mother. You remembered that picture very well as you had once asked him about it. He had told you he kept it out of respect for her and for you.
You had no idea he would still keep it even if you weren’t around.
You opened the desk. Someone had been rummaging inside – most likely to take the jewellery and the important documents. But the personal letters stayed. Personal letters and… a small doll.
You had given it to him at the age of four and asked him to take care of it. You didn’t expect he had been keeping it all these years.
“Oh, father…” you whispered and brought the doll close to your heart. “One day, it will be my daughter’s,” you decided and were about to walk away from the desk when you spotted an unfinished letter.
Carefully and curiously, you picked the paper up and read the few sentences that he had written down before taking a break and never being able to go back to it again.
Dear Daughter,
I am aware of the anger and all the resentment you must be holding in your heart towards me. I am not asking for much but please, write back to us. If not for me, then do it for Paul. We both miss you dearly and we are worried when you are not answering our letters personally. All we want to know is if you are safe and…
Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. So, they had been writing to you. All this time... And only Baron Harkonnen knew how many letters had been kept away from you. Of course he had lied to you. How could you be so stupid…?
You clenched your fist and then threw the crumpled paper back into the drawer. It didn’t change anything now. It brought you some peace, deep down, but it didn’t mean anything anymore. It wouldn't take back time.
You approached your father’s bed and spotted a robe laying there, discarded. He would wear that over his nightwear when he was leaving the room in the middle of the night due to an emergency. You assumed that the Harkonnen invasion was an emergency so sudden and violent that he had no time to put it on.
The robe was silk and dark green with the Atreides emblem on the chest. You sat on the edge of the bed and put the doll down on your lap before taking the robe in your hands and squeezing it as you brought it to your face. It still faintly smelled like him. It smelled like your father.
You buried your face in the silk and closed your eyes, remembering his embrace. For a short while it was almost as if he was still there, holding you and telling you it would be alright.
But it wasn’t alright. It hadn’t been alright and his daughter had died. You couldn’t tell when it happened exactly. Had Princess Atreides die in that cell on the night before her wedding? Or when she had been locked up after the Baron had told her about going to Arrakis and killing her family? Or maybe she had died somewhere in the meantime. Perhaps when she had seen Feyd taking an innocent life for the first time. It was really hard to tell but she was definitely gone now.
You startled at the sound of someone entering the room without knocking. It was Feyd – no one else would dare to do that.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said and froze at the sight of you holding your father’s robe. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” you stood up and threw the robe on the floor as you picked the doll up. “Burn it,” you ordered. “And we’ll take a different room. They can clean up this one,” you approached him and handed him the doll in your hands. He took it, confused.
“What is this?” He asked.
“Our next child will be a daughter and you will give it to her when she is born,” you told him sternly.
He snorted at first but then he realised that you had been dead serious. The doll held lots of significance and meaning to you and he didn’t even have any idea how much you trusted him with it.
Feyd nodded his head after a long while and he looked down at the doll, awkwardly holding her in his pale hands.
“My Lady, what is your decision?” The servant knocked upon the door and joined you.
“I don’t want this room, clean it up,” you told him.
“Do you want a room next to your husband’s, na-baroness?” He asked.
“No, we will share one room,” you told him and he bowed down before leaving you quietly. “Unless you want your own,” you laid your eyes on Feyd.
“I want what you want.”
You were walking through the endless desert. It was like the oceans back on Caladan but instead of the water there was sand. The heat did not bother you and you did not feel tired at all. However, all this walking seemed pointless. You didn’t know where you were or where to go.
And then you spotted someone on the horizon. A tiny figure in a stillsuit and your heart skipped a beat. Was it one of the Fremen? You didn’t want to find out but your legs kept walking anyway as if you had no control over your body.
The figure remained motionless. After a while you spotted it was a man. You wondered why he was not reacting at all, seeing you walking towards him. Perhaps he was waiting for you. But why?
When you were close enough to see his face, you gasped. It was your brother, Paul Atreides, with his eyes blue from the spice, wearing a Fremen armour and he seemed to stare in the distance. Now you realised that he couldn’t see you even though you were facing him.
“Paul?” You asked as your body stopped walking with your face inches away from his. “Brother?”
He startled a little and furrowed his brows. Did he hear you…?
“Paul,” you said again and his eyes found yours.
“Sister,” his voice was different now. It was rough and held no affection. It made your blood run cold.
“What are we doing here?” You asked sadly. “Let’s go back home.”
“What is home now?”
“Caladan,” you explained.
“We cannot.”
You woke up abruptly and sat up, breathing heavily as you felt the sweat running down your spine and forehead. You had never experienced a dream so vivid and realistic as this one.
You assumed it was because of Arrakis. The heat could cause such a vision or perhaps it was all that buried deep down grief after losing your family. Being here now, in that palace where they had lived and died, it was making you feel odd.
Feyd woke up as well and you heard him reaching out for the knife underneath his pillow.
“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’ve just had a bad dream.”
“It’s your first night on Arrakis. Maybe it’s the spice messing with your head,” you felt his hand rubbing your back. “Lay down, come to me,” he whispered and you did.
You laid your head on his chest and hugged him tight like a scared child. Your heart was pounding and you felt dizzy. But you didn’t want to tell your husband what the dream was. He didn’t ask anyway.
On the next day you were gathered in a conference room. Everyone was there, the Baron and Count Rabban, too. You hoped that they would go back to Giedi Prime but it seemed like they wanted to stay and ensure that the spice production would go back to normal. You tried not to make a face at that as you watched the hologram globe of Arrakis in front of you on display.
“Shouldn’t the Fremen delegation greet the new Governor of Arrakis?” You asked.
“The Fremen do not have negotiations with us anymore. We are in the state of war, na-baroness,” one of the engineers answered you with a nod of his head.
“Let it be war, then,” you nodded back.
“What is causing the biggest problems?” Your husband asked as he gave his brother a contemptuous look. “Apart from the bad governing of the resources.”
“The Fremen have a new leader, a mysterious Muad’Dib,” The Baron explained and for some reason a shiver went down your spine at the mention of the name. You didn’t know why because it didn’t sound sinister or dangerous.
“And what about him?” Feyd asked. You could hear he was bored of the meeting and wanted real action as soon as possible.
“They are destroying our machinery and killing our soldiers, slowing down the production. He is unstoppable. Like a shadow,” Rabban explained and Feyd snorted at him.
“My big scary brother failed to deal with one Fremen savage,” he drawled. “Instead of slaughtering them all.”
“And what would our Baroness do?” The Baron interrupted Feyd and stared at you with a smirk. Suddenly, the whole room laid their eyes on you and you blinked a few times, surprised.
“Why would you ask a woman that?” Rabban inquired and Feyd hissed at him for that remark.
“Because I want to know her insight. Our Baroness happens to have interesting ideas,” Baron teased, his squinted eyes never leaving yours.
“I would oppose slaughtering the Fremen,” you stated.
“I’ve told you, she’s just a woman,” Rabban laughed.
“She is the Governess of Arrakis and your na-baroness and you will respect her,” Feyd barked.
“Enough!” You banged the fist on the table and the sound echoed through the chamber full of the Harkonnen servants and engineers widening their eyes at you. “Both of you!” You snapped. “Acting like children,” you scolded. “I am not the Governess of Arrakis, Feyd,” you laid your eyes on him and he looked a bit taken aback by your outburst. “That title does not work that way. You’re the Governor and I am your wife. However,” you looked at the Baron again. He was smirking all that time. “I do not think slaughtering them will bring us profit. They know the desert and the spice more than we do. We need them as obedient allies. But in order to have them as allies, we have to defeat them and their will to fight. We need to hit them with aggression that they have not yet seen nor experienced in their worst nightmares,” you raised your chin up.
“And that aggression is Feyd-Rautha,” Baron nodded at your husband.
“If we have negotiations with the Fremen in the future, I’d like to be there,” you announced and Rabban snorted. You knew that he did not mean these things personally, he was just frustrated that he was being replaced by his brother and seeing that an off-world woman was holding more influence than him had to be rough for his ego.
“What’s so funny, brother?” Feyd asked him and you rolled your eyes. They were at it again. “The only thing I find funny is how my wife has more brains than you.”
“And why is that funny?” You asked him, irritated.
“That is enough indeed,” Baron raised his hand. “We all have better things to do,” he announced and everyone bowed their heads as he left the room.
You watched your husband and his brother leaving right behind him, still having an argument like little children. Then you took a deep breath in and stood up to go back to Astra and Cara.
However, when you left the room, Feyd grabbed his brother’s neck and pushed him down on the floor. He basically threw him at your feet and you were surprised that he had managed it so easily since Rabban was a big and strong man.
“You will kiss her shoe and show your na-baroness respect,” Feyd ordered, “as you beg for her forgiveness.”
You looked down as Rabban looked up, scared. As much as it brought you some satisfaction to have a big, strong Harkonnen count who was called Beast Rabban at your feet, you felt sorry for him, too.
“Feyd, there is no need,” you looked at your husband.
“No, there is, because I say so,” he insisted and kicked his brother’s head. “He will kiss your shoe or die.”
“I said, there is no need,” you repeated, more sternly this time. “Your brother is not my enemy like he is not yours either,” you pointed out. “Stand up, Count Rabban,” you ordered the man.
Carefully and hesitantly he moved up, trying to avoid looking into your eyes.
“You shall remember the kindness I have given you,” you told him and he nodded. “Now, leave.”
You watched him walk away as fast as possible and then you looked at your husband. He wasn’t pleased but he was trying to hide it. You could tell when he was angry very easily from his facial expressions by now.
“Do not torment him. He might be useful,” you told him.
“He will do anything to keep his pathetic head on. He’s got no honour,” Feyd snorted at that. “He would kiss anyone’s shoe if his life depended on it.”
“Then he is more like me than I have expected,” you only said and walked past him, leaving him behind, surprised.
“You are not like him,” Feyd followed you as he grabbed your wrist. “You have honour.”
“Do I?” You chuckled and turned around to face him. “I did everything to survive. It had nothing to do with honour. I became a Harkonnen instead of doing what my Atreides pride was telling me to do and that was to kill myself before letting any of you hurt me or change me.”
“It is different,” he was trying to deny your words. You were confusing him now.
“You also do not have honour, Feyd-Rautha. The way you used to fight drugged warriors in the arena. It has nothing to do with honour,” you reminded him as his jaw clenched. “And you know what? I don’t care,” you shrugged your arms. “My father, he was an honourable man. And look where it has gotten him. We are too cunning for honour.”
“We?” Feyd asked.
“The Harkonnens,” you explained and cupped his face to pull his head down and place a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, go, weren’t you supposed to terrorise the poor Fremen?”
He smirked at you and leaned in to place a hungry kiss upon your lips as his hand caressed your womb.
“Be careful, my darling, come back to me in one piece from the treacherous desert,” you bid him farewell and kissed him one last time before going back to your chambers.
Weeks had passed and the mysterious Muad’Dib remained uncaught, however the spice production came back to full efficiency. It was difficult to celebrate such victory, though, because you weren’t even sure if it was because of Feyd-Rautha being a good Governor or was it because of his uncle who still was present on Arrakis. Both him and Rabban. You wondered how things had been back on Giedi Prime – especially now, when all the important Harkonnens were on Arrakis.
You had your girls and your medic and much less nosy guards following you everywhere. The Arrakeen Palace was giving you lots of freedom and safety but it was also a much more boring place than the fortress on Giedi Prime. It was full of ghosts, too – you couldn’t stop thinking your family had been slayed in that very place.
You kept dreaming of Paul each and every night. It was making you feel weary and frustrated at this point. You didn’t want Feyd to know so you often would leave the bed quietly in the middle of the night and walk outside to sit on the balcony. There was something fascinating about the desert; it was so calm yet dangerous. By day it was too hot to just stare and admire but at night it was peaceful and with no one around to bother you.
Tonight you were standing and admiring the moon in your nightgown, with your hand caressing your swollen womb. It was getting bigger and bigger each day and you could feel the child move now. The medic assured you he was placed properly and growing healthy. You wondered if your son would be born on Arrakis.
“What’s wrong?” Feyd’s voice made you turn around. He was standing by the entrance to the balcony and staring at you.
“I can’t sleep,” you lied. You could but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to dream of Paul.
“Again?” Feyd sighed and approached you. He stood behind you and leaned your body on his chest. It made you sigh out of relief and he placed his hands on your abdomen. “Perhaps the spice is doing you harm.”
“No, the medic would have noticed that,” you shook your head. “Perhaps it’s your son keeping me awake,” you made up a believable excuse and Feyd chuckled.
“And what are you doing here? Staring at the sand?”
“I don’t expect you to understand the beauty of the desert,” you teased. “But yes, the sand, the moon, everything.”
“When I will become the Baron, we will have a little tour and visit every planet under Harkonnen rule,” he whispered into your ear. “You will see many beautiful things, my darling pet.”
“And when will that be?” You snapped, frustrated. “In ten years? A hundred?” You snorted.
“What are you talking about?” Feyd took a step back and leaned on the railing to take a better look at your face but you remained staring in the distance.
“What is he still doing here? I thought Arrakis was ours. Yet, he is here and it feels as if we are being supervised. Meanwhile, Giedi Prime remains without protection,” you drawled through gritted teeth.
“If you were him, would you leave us two to each other?” Feyd asked.
“Are you by his side again?” You finally looked at him, angrily. “He gave you the planet to govern and you’re defending him again?”
“I am not defending him,” Feyd got angry, too, at your words. “But it is obvious why he stayed here. He knows we might be plotting. He needs to keep an eye on things.”
“I have already plotted,” you lowered your voice and went back to staring at the moon.
Feyd kept looking at you in silence for a while before he finally spoke up again.
“And what is that?”
“He shall be slayed by night alongside most of the guards and servants. We will say it was a nighttime assassination attack by Muad’Dib and his people. They targeted the Harkonnen nobility and you were too busy saving your pregnant wife to help your uncle,” you whispered.
“Everyone will know the truth, it's too obvious,” Feyd told you. “It's only giving us an alibi for those who want to believe in it.”
“Of course they will suspect what really happened but they will not care. You showed them your worth in the arena and you brought back the full efficiency of the spice production. The Harkonnen lords will give you a chance. I am sure they’ve already grown tired and weary of the Baron,” you kept convincing him.
“What if Muad’Dib suddenly decides to show up and deny?”
You sighed and looked at him again, furiously.
“Just admit that you don’t want him dead, because in some way I cannot understand… you love him,” you hissed at him.
“Love?” It was the first time you heard him use that word and it brought a chill down your spine. It sounded so off and scary when your husband said it out loud. “I don’t know what that pathetic feeling is,” he assured you.
“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and walked away to leave the balcony and go back to your bedroom.
You were hurt, angry and frustrated and it was starting to bring tears to your eyes but you didn’t want him to see that.
Your husband followed you to the bedroom. In the way his footsteps were even heavier than usual, you spotted his annoyance as well.
“What do you expect of me? You’re so impatient, woman,” he started once the doors closed behind him. “You want everything and you want it now. I said I’d do it, I swore I’d do it but you admitted yourself we have to wait longer. If he dies here at night, do you think the noble lords of Giedi Prime will accept that so easily?”
“Then slay the ones who refuse to accept you as the successor!” You turned around with the rage making your blood boil. “Slay everyone standing in our way, as you promised. Do you want our son to be born in a world that he is manipulating for his own gain? Do you want to be his dog following the orders for the next few years? I am tired of playing the games with him on his own chess board. I want to make my own game, my own rules, my own board!” You tried to keep your voice down in case someone would spy on you but it was difficult with all that anger pouring out of you.
In one swift move, Feyd grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks as he brought your face so close to his that your noses were rubbing each other. There was so much anger in his eyes that the old you would start trembling out of fear for her life but the new you didn’t even flinch.
“Keep your voice down, we will do it,” he spat out.
“No,” you mumbled. “You will do it. You’re the hand that slays,” you reminded him and he kissed you so hungrily that you became breathless.
“I still want to kill you sometimes,” he confessed between one kiss and another as he led you back to your bed and laid you down on the mattress. “Choke you, slit your pretty little throat, watch you squirm under me as you bleed to death.”
“Whatever turns you on, my darling,” you chuckled at him as he looked at you sternly.
“If I hurt you, I’d kill myself right after. I’m bound to you forever,” he confessed and you smiled gently.
You didn’t want to tease him that after all, he did know what love was. After all, he did feel it. But you knew that he’d hate being confronted with the truth.
“If something happened to you, I would want to die alongside you, too,” you told him. “You’re the only one I have and none of my ambitions matter without you by my side.”
It was true. You didn't want to rule alone. In fact, you didn't want to ever feel lonely in your life again.
You were sitting next to Paul and watching the sunset in silence. In your dreams you would always meet him in the desert. Nothing else seemed to exist on Arrakis in the dreamworld – except for you and him.
“Why do you haunt me?” You asked and laid your eyes on his angry face. He was always so angry these days.
You hated Paul from your dreams. He was different. There was no kindness and gentleness about him anymore. If you were supposed to be haunted by his ghost, you’d rather be haunted by the brother you had remembered instead.
“I am not here for you,” Paul snorted and you furrowed your brows. Then he looked down at your swollen womb and you instinctively protected it with your hands.
“What do you mean?” You gasped.
“The spawn inside you shares my blood on both sides,” he answered mysteriously, which confused you greatly but you decided not to give it a second thought. After all, it was just a dream. “No, it is not,” Paul smirked viciously at you, as if he was able to read your thoughts.
“Get up,” you heard Feyd’s rough voice as his hand shook your arm. You woke up abruptly and sat up, trying to calm yourself after the dream.
“What’s going on?” You asked and looked around the dark room.
“Come with me,” your husband looked very pleased with himself as he pulled you out of the bed.
“What are you–”
“Shh,” he put his finger over his mouth as he led you outside.
You gasped at the sight of the bodies scattered all over the corridor of the palace. Servants and guards with their throats slit, laying in poodles of their own blood.
“Have you done that?” You asked quietly and Feyd nodded. “My girls…” you gasped.
“I haven’t touched your pets,” he assured you and stopped in front of the doors leading to the Baron’s chambers.
“Have you killed him…?” You were both excited and terrified of the outcome if the answer was yes. But, most importantly, you were in shock.
“Not yet,” Feyd answered as he pushed the doors open in front of you.
Not sure what his words meant, you entered the chamber carefully and spotted the Baron on his bed, letting out loud and raspy breaths. His life support machinery was no longer attached to him; you assumed Feyd had decided to give him a slow death.
You looked at your husband and spotted a sadistic sparkle in his eye as he was visibly enjoying the sounds and the view. He put his arm around you and walked you closer to the Baron’s bed.
That old and sick man looked pathetic at that moment and for a short while you even felt sorry for him. His eyes widened even further at the sight of you as he raised one of his hands towards you but you took a step back.
You didn’t know what to expect of him on his deathbed. Some part of you craved for him to admit his defeat and name you a worthy successor of the Harkonnen throne. Some other part of you expected him to curse you and your whole bloodline, which would be quite justified.
However, you certainly did not expect the sheer desperation and debasement.
“P-please…” He could barely speak. “Please, help me,” he tried to reach out for you.
You didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. You felt disgusted.
“You’re a weakling,” you smirked at him. “You called my father weak but I am sure that he did not beg like a dog on his deathbed. I am sure he died with dignity.”
“Please, help me…” He coughed out. “Help me and I will make your son an Emperor…”
“I do not need you to make my son an Emperor,” you laughed with contempt. “I am to become The Baroness Harkonnen; commanding the largest army and possessing the biggest wealth in the galaxy.”
“F-Feyd, I was like a father to you…” He searched for his nephew’s cruel eyes now, giving up on asking for your compassion and pity. “My boy…”
“Like a father, you say,” Feyd drawled. “I couldn’t wait to kill you for so many years now.”
“Please…”
“Oh, shut him up, how long will it take for him to die?” You sighed with an eye-roll as Feyd nodded his head at you and grabbed the short knife attached to his hip.
“Farewell, dear uncle,” he smiled smugly as he slit the Baron’s throat.
You watched mesmerised, without even blinking. It felt like a dream more than reality.
“The Arrakeen Palace will be considered cursed for all the Barons and Dukes from now on,” you only said.
Without a word, Feyd dropped the blade and fell on his knees in front of you, pulling you close by your hips and burying his face in the fabric of your nightgown right where your womb was. You knew what he wanted. A praise, an approval, a blessing.
“My Baroness,” he breathed out.
“Stand tall, my Baron,” you caressed his head and he looked up. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight and you cupped his chin to caress his full lips with your thumb. “You’ve made me proud and happy, my darling,” you assured him.
He nodded at you and collected the discarded blade from the floor. It was important not to leave any trace. You both went back to your chambers and laid down in bed, pretending to be asleep – too excited to actually be able to drift off. This time you didn’t feel guilty even a little bit like after the death of the harpies. This time it didn’t even feel like murder or taking another human being’s life. This time it felt like nothing but relief.
You watched the sunrise through the window with your head on your husband’s chest and his hand rubbing your back, waiting for the remaining servants’ screams to signal the beginning of the new era.
There were screams indeed. People were running, yelling, banging on your door. Both Feyd and you acted surprised and startled at the news but Astra and Cara had to be the only people in the palace who actually believed your story. The medic inspected the Baron’s body and started to wonder if it really had been Muad’Dib’s work since the cuts did not remind of the Fremen weapons. Feyd only hissed at him so the medic stopped any further insinuations.
Count Rabban’s behaviour surprised you the most as he was following his brother around and seeming to act like the most loyal and obedient subject. He had quickly realised it was the best chance of survival for him. He hadn’t questioned anything so far and simply followed every word leaving his younger brother’s mouth.
Everything was a mess and chaos on that day but it was mostly Feyd dealing with it, basking in his new title and glory, as you were sitting on your bed with terrified Astra and Cara, holding them both and assuring them of their safety.
“How can you not be worried, na-baroness? I mean, Baroness?” Astra widened her eyes. “If Muad’Dib was here last night… Oh, I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if he went inside your chambers instead…”
“My husband would defend me,” you kissed her forehead and then you kissed Cara’s.
“What if he comes back?” Cara was shaking out of fear and you felt bad for making them feel like this but you couldn’t tell them the truth. “Now, when they know that we have fewer guards around?”
“We will be prepared this time,” you squeezed their hands. “My girls, I am sorry for being insensitive but I shall get dressed in mourning attire now and finally join my husband to help him with the officialties.”
Every lady travelled with a mourning dress just in case. Yours was a combination of black silk and black armour pieces with chains, connected to the matching headpiece. It looked dignified and intimidating – exactly how you wanted it to look like. You had already dreamt of The Baron’s death while planning your trip. Therefore the mourning dress you had chosen was accurate to your new role of The Baroness.
It sounded so good. For the upcoming days you would get drunk on the way people would address you. And then, when you'd finally be back on Giedi Prime, there would be a lavish celebration and official event for you two becoming the new Baron and Baroness. You couldn't wait for that day.
You smiled to yourself in the mirror and fixed the headpiece for one last time as you adjusted the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. On your pointing finger there was a huge ring with the Harkonnen emblem. And hidden between the folds of your dress and attached to the armour piece on your hip was the blade your husband had given you on the day of his birthday. No one could see it but you could reach for it swiftly in the case of emergency.
You joined Feyd in the conference room and everyone straightened at the sight of you. They always would but this time it felt different. You were the one holding the power – and they respected you for you, not for the fact that you were under protection of The Baron.
“Baroness,” they bowed down and went back to work, avoiding your gaze.
“How are things going?” You approached Feyd as he looked you up and down with a smirk. You put your hand on his chest.
“I sent Rabban back on Giedi Prime with our uncle’s body,” he told you and held your hand to lay a kiss upon it. “He will take care of the affairs there until we finish our business on Arrakis. I want to take care of that Muad’Dib rat before returning home and finding someone worthy to replace me as the Governor here. Rabban will also send us more Harkonnen troops since we have lost many guards last night,” he informed you in an official manner.
“We must avenge our late Lord Baron,” you clenched your jaw as you nodded. His eyes sparkled with mockery as he pretended to look worried.
You were sure that most people in that room had known the truth but they kept their poker faces on and allowed you to play out this little scene.
“My Lord,” one of the engineers raised his voice, concerned. Feyd turned around and you both stared at the hologram of the Arrakis globe. Red dots started to appear on the orbit. “We have guests,” the engineer explained. “The ships are definitely not ours.”
“Who is it?” Feyd barked at him. “Find that out, we are not expecting anyone,” he looked at you, a little concerned.
You were not pleased with the idea of guests now, out of all times, either.
“Who dares to interrupt our peace unannounced on the day after our late Lord Baron’s tragic death?” You asked out loud, playing your mourning role the best you could.
What a mockery it was that you had to be hiding all the grief after your actual family but had to display fake tears for the man you had hated with every fibre of your being.
“M-my Lord, my Lady…” the engineer turned around with his eyes widened, “it’s the Emperor himself… The whole imperial delegation.”
You and Feyd looked at each other.
“It took them days to get here. There is no way they are here because of last night’s incident,” Feyd pointed out. “Still, I do not understand. I have brought the spice production back to full efficiency. What could be the reason for his visit?”
You moved uncomfortably as your son kicked your rib. As if he too knew of the importance of this sudden imperial audience. It would be the first time you’d greet someone of such importance as The Harkonnen Baroness and it would be the first time you’d see the Emperor face to face. He had visited your father a few times on Caladan but children had not been allowed near their meetings.
“We have to greet him and find out,” you took a deep breath in, preparing yourself mentally for the first challenge in your new role.
You shot Feyd a glance and he nodded at you, reassuringly. With him by your side, it couldn’t go that bad, you tried to convince yourself. His presence was equipping you with courage and determination you had not known before.
Everything you were doing now, you were doing for the two of you and your future. Nothing else mattered.
MASTERLIST
#dune x reader#dune fanfic#dune imagine#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha fanfic#feyd rautha imagine#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic#feyd rautha harkonnen imagine#austin butler x reader#lilysfiction#tttw
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I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.8k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.
You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.
“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”
“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”
And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.
Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.
Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.
Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.
You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.
“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.
Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.
You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.
“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”
“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.
He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.
The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.
“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.
“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.
“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.
“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”
“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”
“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.
“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.
You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.
“And I was thirsty,” she continues.
He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.
“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.
“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.
“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.
You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.
“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”
“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”
She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.
The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.
“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”
Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.
“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”
You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.
Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.
“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”
Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.
She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.
Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.
He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.
Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.
The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.
“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.
“So—”
“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.
“Okay, sir,” you say softly.
He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.
“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.
“E-excuse me?”
“Breakfast. Have you had it?”
“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.
He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.
“Why don’t you drive?”
“I don’t have a car, sir.”
“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”
“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.
“Bitna has a company car.”
“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”
“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”
Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.
“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”
Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.
He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.
“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.
So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.
You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.
What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.
He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.
The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.
You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.
He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.
“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.
Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”
“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.
“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”
Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.
“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”
“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”
The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.
You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.
But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.
“I—”
“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”
“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.
He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.
Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.
You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.
He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.
You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.
“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”
“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.
He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.
You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.
The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.
You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.
Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.
It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.
You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”
He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.
You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.
Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.
“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.
It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.
“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”
You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.
“You may leave,” he instructs.
“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.
You’d never cared before, why the change now?
“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”
Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.
He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.
It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.
You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.
He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.
“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.
He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.
“I’m fine,” he shrugs.
You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.
But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.
For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.
It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.
“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”
“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”
“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.
“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”
You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.
“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”
“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”
You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.
You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.
Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.
“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”
“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”
“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.
“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”
“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”
There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.
“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”
“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.
Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.
“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”
“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”
“Maybe he’s just concerned.”
You snort at the absurdity of the statement.
Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.
As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.
But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.
“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”
“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”
“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”
“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”
“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”
You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.
“Okay,” you say softly.
“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”
“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”
“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”
They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.
You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.
“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.
“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.
“And you’re gonna eat again?”
“I was actually–”
You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.
“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.
“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”
With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”
“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”
You smack yourself internally for rambling.
“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”
“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”
“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”
“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.
Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.
“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.
You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.
He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.
“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.
“You cook?” You ask too quickly.
“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”
“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.
Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.
He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.
You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.
The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.
He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.
Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.
You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.
You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”
He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.
“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”
“That soon?” Jungkook asks.
“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.
Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.
“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.
Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.
As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.
“Uh, yes,” you say.
“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.
You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.
“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.
“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.
“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.
“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”
“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”
“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.
“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”
“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.
“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.
It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.
Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.
“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”
“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.
He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.
“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”
“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.
“I guess that’s my answer, then.”
“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”
“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”
You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.
“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”
“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”
“That’s not an excuse though.”
“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”
It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.
“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.
Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.
“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”
“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.
“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”
You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.
“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.
“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.
“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”
You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.
You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.
“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”
“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”
“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”
“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”
“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.
“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”
“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.
“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.
“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.
“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”
“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”
“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”
“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.
“Did he tell you off again?”
“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”
“Did you?”
“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”
“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”
“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.
It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.
But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.
You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.
“All good?” Taehyung asks you.
“Yes,” you bow in thanks.
“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?
“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”
The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.
Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.
You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.
They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.
“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”
“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”
“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”
“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”
“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”
“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.
Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.
“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”
“Except for Jimin,” you correct.
“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.
“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”
“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.
“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.
“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”
“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.
Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.
“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”
“Why would he pity you?” She asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”
“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”
“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.
“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.
“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”
“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.
She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.
The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.
You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.
Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.
“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.
“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”
“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.
“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.
Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.
You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.
Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.
Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.
“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.
“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.
“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.
You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.
You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.
“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.
“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”
You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.
“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.
“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”
“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.
You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.
But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.
“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”
“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.
“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”
“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”
“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.
“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”
“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”
“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.
“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”
“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”
“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”
“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.
“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”
She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.
“Like them.”
You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.
“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”
Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.
From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.
Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.
But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.
He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.
“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.
He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.
“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”
“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.
“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”
Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.
Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.
“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.
“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.
You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.
Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.
But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.
“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”
“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”
“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”
“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”
“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”
“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”
“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”
“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”
“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.
“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”
“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”
His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.
“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”
You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.
You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.
“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”
You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.
The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.
“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”
You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”
The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.
“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.
Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.
“Your girl?” He scoffs.
The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.
Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.
“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.
“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”
Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.
You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.
“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.
You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.
“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.
It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.
“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.
“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”
“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”
“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”
Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”
The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.
“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.
You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.
You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.
“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”
You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.
You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.
“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.
“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”
You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.
“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.
He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.
The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.
“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”
“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.
“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”
“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.
You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”
He calls your name before you turn around to leave.
“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”
You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.
Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.
“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”
You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.
You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.
“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.
You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.
“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.
You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.
“I’m so—”
The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.
From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.
“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”
“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.
“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”
“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”
“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”
“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”
Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.
They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.
“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”
Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.
You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.
“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.
“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”
You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.
“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.
“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”
So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.
You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.
“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”
They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.
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#jungkook fic#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x oc#jungkook angst#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook fanfiction#boss jungkook#jungkook series#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut
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how to enjoy reading WIPs
(if you always read complete works only)
Reading along while an author is actively posting their fic can be a great experience. Much like watching a show or series that airs weekly, reading a fic that posts a new chapter every few days or twice a month etc. can be a lot of fun. Here are some ideas of things you can do to enjoy the experience, if it's new to you:
get intrigued - where is the author going with this? How are they going to roll out the plot that they described in their summary/tags? what tone are they setting in their first chapter(s) and how do you think that will carry through the story? So much is possible, and you'll get to find out!
read the author's notes - are there hints of what's to come? are they looking for suggestions? maybe you get to know the author a little bit or connect with their social media.
read the comments - You'll often see some back and forth in the comments section between readers and the author, especially if they are friends. You might also see some speculation about what's upcoming in the fic or some references to fanon or canon that might interest you.
leave a comment - this can become an enthusiasm loop where you shout your enjoyment at the author and they shout their joy at your comment back at you. It might even lead to friendship - either with the author or with other commenters. Even if the author isn't the type of person to reply, your comment will likely encourage them to keep updating the story.
subscribe - at the top of the fic, you'll find a subscribe button (if you're a logged in user). If you hit that, AO3 will send you an email every time that fic updates. You'll be able to read the fic soon after it's posted or save it as a treat or to reward yourself later.
get a friend to read it too - then you'll have someone to theorize with and squee with when a new chapter is posted. Having someone to talk to about things always makes them more fun.
if the fic goes on hiatus - you still had all the fun of reading it while it was still posting, and now you get to imagine what might happen next. You can still reread (and even comment, if you'd like) as often as you like until that new chapter drops, and if you're subscribed, you'll find out about it - even if it takes years.
Reading works in progress isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I think it can be a lot of fun - especially if you know someone else who's reading it too.
If you're someone who already reads works in progress, tell us why in the notes ❤️
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In addition to Yor's epiphany scene, this scene was the other one I was most looking forward to in season 2 - a scene that, in my opinion, is one of the most Twiyor-ish scenes in the series so far ���
Why is it so significant? Because there was no reason for Twilight to put on any Loid Forger acting in that moment. He wasn't conversing with nor being scrutinized by anyone. So why would he give that soft smile followed by such affectionate, comforting words as "お疲れ様/otsukaresama"? (this can be translated in many ways, but generally it's something you say to thank someone for their hard work).
The answer is because it's something he truly felt...he understood the sacrifice Yor made for Anya's happiness and genuinely appreciated it (if only he knew the sacrifice she made on the larger scale, lol). While he's a bit perturbed at first since some onlookers were snickering at him, it didn't take long for him to soften and then graciously carry his queen and princess the girls back to the ship 😭
But Twilight overall was really soft in this episode and I loved it~ From his blush upon seeing Yor to the several times he gave that same soft smile when talking with/looking at her...I think Anya was right when she called him out on the ship about missing his wife 😅
I liked how the anime conveyed his shock when noticing her bruised face...what must have been his thought at that moment? 👀
The scenes of the family activities translated better in animated form in my opinion. While they were each only a single panel in the manga, they lasted a few seconds each in the anime, plus the addition of the insert song helped the with the comfy, wholesome vibe~ Also the part where Yor inadvertently chucks Anya across the ocean is still hilarious.
Loid's dorky skip at the beginning of the episode translated very well in animated form too 😅
The ending of this chapter in the manga always felt a bit rushed to me...it quickly jumps from the aforementioned scene of them returning to the ship, to suddenly being home, reuniting with Bond and Franky, having a meal together, then Twilight meeting Sylvia, all within a few panels. Even though I wish the anime added more than just some additional scenes of the ship leaving the island, I felt it flowed much better in the anime since, just like the family activities, each scene in the ending lasted a second or two instead of being a single illustration.
But I love how this chapter/episode ends, with Yor, Anya, and Bond napping while Anya draws about her family vacation. This seems to take place the next day or maybe later the same day they got home, so makes sense they'd still be tired from the trip!
By the way, the manga has this additional scene showing that Olka and company are safe. Weird that the anime didn't stick it in at some point.
Also, the anime team didn't have to go so hard with this episode's key visual but they did...and I love it 😍 Might actually be my favorite of the key visuals so far!
I was very happy to see the "surrounded by liars" panel finally animated! This is such a funny scene and a great way to fully wrap up the cruise arc.
I also burst out laughing at Yuri's locker 🤣
Damian is surprisingly laid back in this episode. I think the reason is because Anya's antics aren't directly involving him. He tends to go total tsundere only when she's actually talking to him, lol.
The new scene of Yor getting the keychains for her coworkers was a nice addition! Guess it's canon that Yor and Anya didn't sleep for the entire trip back, lol. Glad they got to spend family time on the ship too! (though I wish we could have seen Yor's reaction waking up in Loid's bottom bunk bed, haha. He must have brought her to his room since he wouldn't know where her room is. Unless she woke up before he even put her in a bed, in which case she would have been super embarrassed knowing he was carrying her around in public 😆)
Looks like next week the anime will be changing the order of things a bit and giving us the Becky home-wrecking and Fiona chapters (the latter of which seems to have some anime original content?) The Becky chapter is one of my favorite stand-alone chapters...I'm already dying of laugher thinking about it 😂
#spy family#spy x family#sxf#spyxfamily#loid forger#yor forger#anya forger#twiyor#sxf anime#becky blackbell#yuri briar
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IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I
Part 2
Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au
Word Count: 6,6k
Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.
WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.
A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.
There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work.
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.
One year ago.
It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.
You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.
Dance, baby, dance!
The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.
You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.
How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?
You can't remember at all.
Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.
Man, you felt so good.
In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.
Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide.
At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.
Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.
It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.
You have no idea what you would do without these two.
A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.
You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.
You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.
"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?"
Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling.
You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.
You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them
"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.
"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.
The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…
Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.
Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:
"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.
San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.
"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.
He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.
Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.
"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers.
God, may you not remember this tomorrow.
"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.
"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."
Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.
A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.
"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?
"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before.
The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.
San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.
But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.
"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."
My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside.
Fuck.
All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.
You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.
Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.
"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…
You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.
"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.
"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.
"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds.
"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."
He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.
The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.
As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.
Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.
"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left.
"Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.
"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."
"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.
You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.
The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.
You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.
Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.
It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?
"Chagi, are you okay?"
You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.
"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.
"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."
He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.
"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."
"Alright."
You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.
Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.
For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.
But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.
There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.
You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.
"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.
The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.
Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.
"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.
"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."
"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.
You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.
Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh.
God, he's so hot.
"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.
"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.
Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.
You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.
The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.
In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.
You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.
"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.
"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?
He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.
"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."
"Have I told you I love you?"
"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.
"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom.
"We love you too; we love you so much."
If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.
San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.
"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you.
Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.
"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.
"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"
"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."
"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.
"Wooyoung!"
"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"
"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.
"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."
"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.
"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.
"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."
"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.
"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.
"In your dreams."
For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.
"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome."
"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"
"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."
"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."
"Wooyoung, I'm serious."
You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.
"San…"
"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."
"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."
You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.
"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.
"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.
You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.
You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez x reader#kpop smut#ateez fanfic#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ateez ot8#ateez imagines#seonghwa smut#ateez san#san smut#hongjoong smut#ateez wooyoung#yunho smut#woosan
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