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an-idyllic-novelist · 1 year

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qin shi huang with yoriichi tsugikuni!fem!reader headcanons

warnings: spoilers from manga, ooc, slow burn friends-to-lovers troupe

Special thanks to @onecantsimply, @yellow-snark and @thatstrangesheep for their feedback and help with these headcanons! Enjoy! :)

Even in death, Qin Shi Huang was an emperor whom everyone respected as the ‘king who began everything’. He had reunited the annexed nations of China, a guiding light who led his people bringing peace and prosperity after almost a millennium of strife. Now, within the vast afterlife known as Valhalla, he reigned over a substantial amount of territory alongside his successors, working as a cohesive council when conflict arose.

Today, however, he has come to handle the problem on his own terms. For the last two months, men, women, and even children have gone missing from the foot of the northeastern mountains. Given the harsh environment, it is not too odd to believe that the cause of their disappearance might be an attack from a wild animal, angering the spirits who guard the terrain, or just simply got lost.

But the disemboweled bodies told the emperor a different story: there is a beast devouring his people, and it is certainly not a bear. For a split moment, Qin Shi Huang feared that Chi You had somehow returned from beyond its miserable grave and had come back to take revenge on the ‘insolent whelp’ who would not bow before its bony knees as payment for being accepted as an emperor of China.

If that were truly the case, though, there would be more corpses strewn about the mountain base than the current number of victims. Qin Shi Huang had already defeated the god, and he will do it again to protect his subjects. Such is the road he leads as an emperor, after all~.

So imagine his surprise when he comes across a six-armed being with pasty skin and glowing golden sclera, hunched over the corpse of a man cradling his child. It was not Chi You, but a demon. A demon that was the stuff of legends many years ago, only for them to suddenly vanish and become nothing more than a bedtime story to keep children from sneaking off at night.

And now, here is the great emperor, face-to-face with this drooling beast. Qin Shi Huang frowned, bending his sinewy body into an offensive position. Just when he was about to launch an attack, his opponent’s head rolled off its shoulders. He blinked, watching the demon’s body collapse onto the grass, twitching rapidly before disintegrating into dust. Hm? He hadn’t even moved! Unless the presence of an emperor is that powerful before a demon that it self destructs?

“Are you all right?” Qin Shi Huang then saw a figure standing where the demon had been, sword unsheathed. At first glance, she seemed like an ordinary traveler by the way she dressed, but the emperor knew that she was certainly not an ordinary person. Not from the tremendous amount of chi circulating around this woman’s body and the sword fastened at her waist.

She was a warrior as Chun Yan had been.

He grinned. “Hao!”

[Eye Color] orbs blinked at him in confusion, tilting her head to the side as she repeated the word. “Does that mean…you are hurt?”

Zori sandals stomped against the bloodied soil as she strode over to him, astounding Qin Shi Huang with her agility. She frowned slightly, her eyes scanning over his body. “You…are all right, it appears.” She glanced up at him. “I…apologize if I had gotten…your clothes dirty. You are a young lord, yes?”

Qin Shi Huang frowned. “Buhao.”

“Hm?”

He raised his right hand, pressing his middle and index fingers together before he pointed them towards the ground, the golden nail guards glowing beneath the moonlight. “Humble yourself. You are in the presence of an emperor. Be grateful I have not executed you for your impudence.”

“You…are an emperor?”

That was how the greatest emperor in all of Chinese history crossed paths with the greatest Demon Slayer in history, the Mother of All Breathing Techniques, the Sun Hashira [First Name] [Last Name].

In your defense, you never would have guessed that the man who had been endangered moments ago had not been a feudal lord looking for trouble in these woods, but an emperor who had come to kill the demon devouring his people.

You did apologize for being rude, and politely asked His Imperial Majesty if there was a town close by. You lived deep in the mountains, though in the opposite direction of his territory. It would take about two days to return should you leave now. That was only if you were lucky enough to not come across any more demons on your journey back home.

To your surprise, this emperor all but commanded you to follow him to his palace. He boasted that it was the largest one in Valhalla, with the finest food and rooms available for only esteemed guests and members of his court. However, since you did humble yourself before him, he will make an exception and allow a weary traveler to stay in the guest quarters for the night. You thanked him, trailing after the man through the woods to the crowded streets of a bustling city and right up the stone footsteps of an extravagant palace the likes of which you had never seen before.

You dared to say that it was much bigger than the Ubuyashiki compound.

With a clap of his jeweled hands, a group of young maidens in flowing robes appeared before him. He ordered them to make sure you received the most excellent care, including running a warm bath and mending your damaged clothes. Before you could have a moment to say something, you were immediately whisked away to another part of the palace until dinner was ready.

The food was just as extravagant as the clothes that the maidens had dressed you in. It was almost too much, but you dared to not insult your host. Instead, you bowed your head to him in gratitude and ate as much as you could without being too rude. Thankfully you could recall some of your table manners from when you had been alive, before becoming a Hashira and just the daughter of a prestigious household in the Sengoku era.

Between the raucous laughter and idle chatter amongst the others who dined at this table, you had almost expected to be asked to leave or escorted out of the banquet hall so that the emperor could speak to his fellow countrymen freely without the presence of an outsider.

Instead, His Imperial Majesty asked you many questions. Who you are, why were you in the woods, how did you defeat the demon, etc. You answered them to the best of your ability, humbly explaining that you had once been a Demon Slayer and trained to exterminate the ones who came out at night to consume human flesh. There is nothing special about you.

You had simply worked hard, protected humanity until your untimely death. There was no need for him to know of your ability to see the Transparent World, much less the Breathing Techniques of a Demon Slayer.

Some secrets were meant to be just that: secrets. And you were bad at explaining things; it had been a miracle that the Hashiras, those whom you had worked alongside all those years ago, could comprehend your words and adapt the Sun Breathing techniques into their own variations: Water, Insect, Flame, Wind, Stone, and so forth.

Again the emperor surprised you; he seemed intrigued by the Breathing Styles and continued to ask questions about how to use it until the handmaidens escorted you to the guest quarters later that night, although His Imperial Majesty wished to keep speaking even in a drunken stupor.

The following morning, you thanked the emperor for his hospitality and left the palace. An armed entourage followed you out to the city’s borders to make sure you would not try to attack His Imperial Majesty nor the citizens. You thanked them for their vigilance and hard work before beginning the journey towards your humble home.

You were certain that this was the first and only time you would come across royalty and thought nothing of it in the days that went by upon returning, weeks becoming almost two months since the demon attack. You would either be tending to the crops or practicing your swordsmanship. Eventually, it was time for you to venture down from the mountains to restock on your supplies.

The villagers who lived at the mountain’s edge were kind people. Some of them were elderly and required assistance with manual labor or errands. You did not mind helping them, and were quite hesitant to accept anything from them, especially rice or other precarious commodities.

Most were merchants who traveled a great distance from the village to the city to sell their wares. How could you even consider taking that away from them? To your dismay, they were quite stubborn and practically shoved it in your hands.

The ‘payment’ from the villagers, including the usual amount of items you purchased from the vendors, became too much for you to carry without making two trips up and down the mountain.

You were almost considering having to borrow a cart when a voice called out to you.

Turning around, your eyes widened in shock at the appearance of the emperor Qin Shi Huang walking down the muddied main road, flanked by four or five armed soldiers. He recognized you immediately, almost running with a wide grin on his face.

He’d been wanting to continue his conversation with you, yet due to his workload in the palace prevented him from venturing out sooner. You had also been difficult to track down as no one seemed to be aware that a Demon Slayer wearing hanafuda earrings existed in Valhalla except for a young whelp and his little sister living in the floating cities alongside the Valkyries.

But now, he’s here and ready to chat~. You should be grateful he had traveled such a long way to visit. He is an emperor after all. He was willing to help carry the supplies up the mountains if it meant he had an opportunity to challenge you to a fight and idly chatter over drinks.

Upon explaining that you did not drink alcohol, the emperor told you not to fret. He’s come prepared. Revealing a large jug of corked liquor in his hand with a wide grin, you realized that he would not go away even if you politely asked him too.

So with great reluctance, you guided Qin and his entourage up the mountains, some of them carrying your supplies.

A peaceful day became chaotic. And from this single afternoon of idle chatter and sparring with an incredibly powerful fighter transitioned to an unlikely friendship. Qin Shi Huang was nothing like Sumiyoshi, that much was certain.

Where Sumiyoshi was a humble man blessed to have a family in turbulent times, the boastful emperor had been an unwanted child from the moment he was born. If it had not been for his mentor and mother, that meek little boy would not have the confidence to move forward and pave the road for his people to live in peace, let alone find a method to deal with the Zhao’s anger aimed at him simply because he was from royalty.

He had many children sired from his concubines but he never took an empress, much to his council’s annoyance even in the afterlife. Chun Yan too, of all people!

Yet despite such different personalities from two different people who are your friends….you knew they both possessed kindness and empathy. Why else would an emperor continue to maintain contact with you via letters and occasionally visit you in the mountains over the next thirty years?

He’s a man who had led his people into prosperity after all, the king of all kings.

You had lost so much when you were alive…is it truly all right to be selfish and treasure Qin Shi Huang as a friend, an emperor of all people?

Qin Shi Huang quickly discovered that there was more to his new friend than being a calm, unreadable individual who never raised her voice once even when he had been purposely annoying just to gauge a reaction.

The Sun Hashira…she was perfect. A beautiful, complex creature who values integrity and kindness above all else. She did not enjoy fighting, preferring a quiet life away from society than challenging one opponent after another. And like him, she knew what it meant to lose a loved one.

When it came to strength, she once told him, those who are marked like herself will all meet the same fate. He had an idea as to the cryptic meaning behind her words…and he prayed that she would live in this afterlife.

When he revealed his past to her, what he had done as a child until his death, the Sun Hashira simply accepted it all as they say together on the snowy veranda of her small home.

“To live in an era of conflict…there can never be true peace without bloodshed. Your Imperial Majesty had gone through so much….and you were loved deeply by Chun Yan. I wish….I could have met her….and thank her for raising a wonderful, strong son.”

Qin Shi Huang.exe stopped working for a span of five seconds before he tried to hide his embarrassment with a swing of the warm sake that his host had prepared especially for them to celebrate the New Year together.

Another year has come and gone…so why was it that his heart hasn’t stopped hammering against his ribcage?

Bonus Content:

After five years of sending luxurious gifts and love letters, it took a stammering confession from the emperor to convey his feelings towards the Sun Hashira.

Although she did not want to marry right away, she humbly accepted a period of courtship from China’s greatest emperor until it was appropriate to be welcomed as his empress.

Some of his court were pleased that he had finally selected a wife to become the mother of the nation, but there were others who believed that [First Name] was too independent and would not respect the traditions required to follow after becoming an empress.

Needless to say, Qin Shi Huang made an example of the courtiers who dared to disrespect his new wife behind closed doors. His warning also extended to the concubines, should they try to do something malicious out of petty jealousy.

Quality time included sampling delicacies in the garden, sparring matches, and cuddling in his private quarters.

Chun Yan approved of [First Name], congratulating her adoptive son on finding a woman who can keep up with his shenanigans.

The domestic bliss between the emperor and empress never wavered…until Brunhilde approached the palace and asked for their aid to fight against the gods. Both of them.

If it hadn’t been for [First Name]’s benevolence, Qin would have immediately executed the Valkyrie on the spot for her arrogance. Instead he gave her the courtesy and listened to her proposal regarding the event called Ragnarok. A battle royale until one opponent is annihilated.

The emperor would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested, but he had no intention of bringing his Sun Hashira into it. He wanted her to spend this afterlife in peace, not to put her life on the line again.

Alas, his wife was stubborn. He agreed to Brunhilde’s terms so long as she agreed to his terms. Once she left the palace, he pulled his empress into a long talk about this…situation.

Whatever obstacles will come their way, they will face it together. The Sun Hashira isn’t alone anymore.

Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@onecantsimply

@recreationalfanfics

@deathmetalunicorn1

@yellow-snark

@thatstrangesheep

@dance-till-the-death

@staticradiotv

Honorable mentions:

@myrisan-melodies

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #qin shi huang #qin shi huang x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv x reader #snv qin shi huang #qin shi huang headcanons #an idyllic novelist #ror x reader #fem reader #snv

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jadeddangel · 28 days

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lute with an exterminator reader? And maybe with some added angst of reader dying or getting extremely injured

"Just a few more breaths..."

Lute x reader

Summary: During the attack on the hazbin Hotel, you, lute's partner gets significantly wounded and is given the choice between saving you and Adam.

Warnings:Cussing, Graphic Violence, Talk of Death, abandonment issues, Angst

You and Lute were sharing short kisses in the alley, desperate for any form of touch from the other. It was only 15 minutes until the attack on the hotel, Lute had begged you to be left out of the attack to Adam but Adam made the decision to keep you in due to needing "all hands on desk". So, instead of training, Lute had been spending as much time with you as possible. She was terrified of losing someone who actually loved her, someone who didn't want to lose her..Lute held you closer to her body, nuzzling into your feathered neck.

It had been almost 15 minutes since you and Lute had separated, and the fight was well.. gruesome, bloodstained dirt that had developed into a deep covered mud. Lute and Vaggie were in a rough tossle in the hotel as they both fought for their lives and well.. love. As cracks began to litter all over the concrete walls of the Hazbin hotel, the walls began to Crack under the pressure of the aggressive fight between Lucifer, The King of Hell, and Adam, The First Man.

You were fighting against the cannibals, tossing them over your shoulder when they cane close enough to push their teeth into your body. You had lost chunks of your wings and arms when the cannibals had gotten close. Your body was in a searing pain from what seemed to be angelic weapon encrusted teeth that they had. But you hadn't given them the pleasure of hearing your cries and/or screams. You were probably bleeding out of major arteries, but at this point, your mind had turned off pain reptors to your body. That wad until you were starting to get dizzy from blood loss, it felt like you were dying all over again... and it was... scary.. you hadn't been scared in so long...

The building finally collapsed, and all attention was on the giant pile of rubble as you saw your girlfriend, Lute, dive out of the building holding her bleeding stub where her arm once was.

"Lute!!" You screamed, pushing the cannibals off of your bleeding body using your wings as best as you could to soar over to Lute helping her up out of pity. Lute stood and pushed you away from her, "Don't focus on me! Get that fucking brat of lucifer's!" Lute yelled not even bothering to look at you or your wounds knowing she wouldn't be able to stop herself from babying you, if she knew you were hurt.

You flinched and moved back from Lute and pulled your wings in. She had never yelled at you. Suddenly, you saw vaggie dive in and push Lute to the ground, both of them quickly wrestling for dominance. You were panicking a bit, causing you to drop your guard, allowing The cat demon, Husk, the opportunity to sneak behind you, holding one of his divine cards to your neck.

As if on cue, you heard Adam begin screaming and giving a speech, "No! You don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm THE fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something. I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking, LOSERS!!!" Adam screamed at Charlie and the surviving demons and then suddenly and out of nowhere, Squelch!! .It was sickening as everyone paused to watch the large divine sewing needle piercing through Adam's gut. Lucifer poked at his own gut, "Uhm, you've got a little something, like right there" Lucifer didn't really flinch or show any form of discomfort. Adam fell to his knees and then onto his stomach, you heard Lute scream and push vaggie off of her, rushing to Adam shaking him and tuning him over letting out cries and screams. You couldn't bear to look anymore as you shifted your gaze to the ground, you were too scared to move to much knowing your throat could be slit at any moment.

Lute turned her gaze towards you, noticing the danger. She knew she had to choose between you and Adam. It was a blur. All you remember is falling to the ground suddenly and your neck burning with a ferocity that you had never felt before. Your hands gripped onto your neck, feeling the warm feeling of blood, "Oh.." he had barely missed your jugular and windpipe, but it still didn't hurt. You heard a loud scream and heard a Lute rush to you laying your head in her lap, "no no no no.. not you, please.. please.. I can't lose you and Adam.. I don't wanna choose.." Lute, let out sobs punching over your body. You reached up and held lutes cheek, "Hey hey.. don't cry.." You croaked out struggling to breathe and speak. You had never seen lute cry so much. Slowly, all of the demons around you connected the fact that you were, in fact, lovers from body language. Vaggie walked closer, "Lute.. I.. I didn't realize you guys were still.." Vaggie started. Lute held your body closer to her, gritting her teeth, "Haven't you done enough?!!" Lute yelled through tears, holding you closer to her body.

Vaggie hesitated and backed up, putting her arm out defensively in front of Charlie, though Charlie was quite far behind her. Lute's lip quivered and held you closer to her, "Hey Lute?... i-i.. if I don't make it..." You started feeling your vision start to go black. "No, no, don't.. I'm not gonna let anything happen! We made plans! We... we were gonna have dinner together..get a pet together.. you said nothing would happen.. you said you would be fine.. I can fix this.. I can fix this.. this is all my fault.. I should have pushed to let you stay..I-I can fix this.. This is all my fault!!.." Lute ranted, only to be caught off by your loud coughs and blood splattering on her face. "Lute!.." you yelled the best you could. Your body was trembling against your will. "It's not your fault, Lute, I... it's not your fault.." You repeated gripping onto Lute's feathered neck. Lute held you closer to her understanding that she had no control over this anymore.

You couldn't see anymore, "I love you L-... Lute.." You struggled as you breathed out, passing out, making your body go limp...

Ending 1(you survive):

You shot up as you awoke, and you held your neck, remembering the struggling to breathe and the pain of the cut. You were shaking in pain as your head was on a swivel as you looked around paranoid. You recognized where you were. It was one of the angelic hospitals, It was mainly just for injuries from training with the angelic weapons. You felt yourself relax as you finally felt the large amount of pain from all over your body. It was from the bites, the stabs, and... the... the wound that almost killed you... You swung your legs off of the hospital bed, looking around terrified. Wait.. where was lute?! She came too, right? She hadn't stayed down there, right?! Your mind was racing as you heard talking outside of the hospital room and them the door opening to the hospital room. Your eyes flipped up to the person who had entered the room. You held your breath reflexively before relaxing, seeing Lute's familiar face, "I... wait.. Lute?..." you whispered, your voice was hoarse from the lack of use. Lute rushed to you and hugged you tightly, pulling you closer desperately, "You're ok!!" Lute yelled in surprise, sniffling a bit as she began crying in happiness. Turns out you had been in the hospital for about 2 months and had gone into critical care multiple times due to your weakened immune system. After you had gotten released to be able to go home, you and Lute had gotten promoted as commanders of the exorcist army. You had adopted a little angelic kitten and named it Adam. It was your guys' way of mourning the loss.

Ending 2(Reincarnated as a demon):

You shot awake holding your neck and looking around searching for the destruction you had caused, but nothing.. You looked down at your hands and froze.. your skin looked wrong.. you weren't in pain, though.. you reached up to feel for your halo but didn't feel it.. instead, you felt 2 rough horns that were so sharp that you nearly pierced through your palms. You let out a hiss of pain as you got up. You still had wings, but they were black with red splotches where you had been bitten and where chunks had been ripped out. You looked all over your body, noticing that the pattern had carried over your body. You were almost pitch black in color aside from red that had been where all of your scars were. And then, you connected all the pieces and headed straight to the pride ring, trying to get back to Lute.. trying to get back home...

Ending 3(???):

You opened your eyes slowly, before squinting them, there was a bright light, it was almost like... the sun? Your eyes adjusted after a moment as you opened your eyes completely. There was tall grass and tall cedar trees... it was beautiful.. it was somewhere you and Lute had always talked about.. You were in a large clearing that was surrounded by flowers and mushrooms that didn't seem poisonous or harmful. You saw smoke in the distance as you slowly walked forward.. you felt drawn to it almost.. You slowly followed the flowers that had almost created a trail towards where the smoke was.. You followed the "trail" and found a pretty little cabin. It was perfect. You opened the door to the cabin, I mean, the place seemed safe enough so it couldn't be too bad.You opened the door to see... Lute? She was in the kitchen. The sunlight licked at the window, leaving a golden glow on the window paine since the sun was sitting on the horizon. Lute was pouring steaming hot water into 2 cups that were in front of her before looking up at you, "Welcome home my love, make sure you close the door behind you, we wouldn't want Adam getting out again" Lute laughed a bit, she seemed relaxed. You tilted your head confused at the name until you saw a golden, almost ginger colored cat approach you rubbing against your legs affectionately. You shut the door softly before picking up the kitten, "What are you making?" You asked quietly. "Wellll I didn't know if you wanted coffee or tea, so I made your favorite kind of tea!" Lute smiled at you brightly. She approached you, holding the cups before holding one out to you. You smiled, setting the cat down and taking the cup, "I figured we could cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together, maybe?"Lute said. You smiled, "That sounds perfect.. we always did talk about how we could do that forever and how we never wanted it to end.." you muttered. You knew this wasn't real.. but you were happy... and you would be with her for the rest of time..

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin #Hazbin Hotel Lute #Hazbin Lute #Lute #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin x Reader #Hazbin Hotel Lute x reader #Hazbin Lute x Reader #Lute x reader #Hazbin Hotel Angst #Lute x Reader Angst #angst #x reader #jaded works🪶

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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Man in the Black Gloves

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: public sex, fingering, smut, angst, threats, sexual tension, domination, violence, mention of the murder ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although the thought of marriage and motherhood had terrified her before her father's death, now, being married at last and hoping to become the mother of her husband-king's children, she understood that it was all just a matter of the person she was to spend her life with.

Her husband, though terrifying and cruel, understood his duty as a husband and as a lover and fulfilled them to the best of his ability. She did not expect sweet words or confessions from him, knowing that they were not in his nature, however, he showed his affection to her in a different way.

Through his actions.

When that insolent woman dared to suggest that she become her husband's mistress in the future, that she would bear his child, she felt disbelief and a sense of betrayal spill over her insides.

She clenched her lips, trying with all her might to hold back the tears of humiliation that appeared under her eyelids.

How dare she?

"Hold her." She heard her husband's cold voice and saw him stand from his throne with a sudden, impatient movement.

"− give me your sword −" He said to Ser Criston in an unobjectionable voice − his guards grabbed the woman under her arms and forced her to kneel before them. She noticed with satisfaction that there was no longer a trace of the certainty of a moment ago on her face.

Her husband was unpredictable, burning like a fire that could not be tamed.

Anyone who tried was doomed to burn.

She listened to her desperate explanations with her lips clenched, pale, begging in her mind that her husband would not change his mind, that he would not let her go after what she had said, allowing her to leave a scar in her heart forever.

The thought that one day they would meet again without her knowledge and her prediction would come true.

A great uproar spread around them, people shouting at each other, until suddenly a blade swished swiftly in front of her − the woman who had just stood before them was deprived of her head, which rolled down the stairs to the stone floor with a thud.

"Her every breath would be an insult to my Queen. Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries to plot against her. Guards, lock Lord Ronwell in the dungeons until she decides what to do with him." He said lowly, with some kind of regret towards himself for allowing such a situation to happen.

He looked at her with a calmness in his eye, a conviction that he had done the right thing, that whatever this woman had predicted would never come true.

Once again, he made her feel an overwhelming sense of relief, like when she saw her mother and learned that she was alive.

She thought, looking at him with parted lips, feeling sweet throbbing between her thighs, that she would give him everything, would drown with him in her blood, would not let him carry the burden of this sin alone.

He did it for her.

Never before had she come as hard as she had that evening, feeling the tart taste of blood in her mouth as he slammed into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her weeping cunt with his fat, swollen cock, aroused as much as she was.

She couldn't even remember when she reached her peak, feeling that she almost screamed with pleasure along with him.

She sighed quietly as she felt his hot seed finally spill inside her, feeling only fulfilment, only peace.

"− good gods − are you all right? −" He asked uncertainly, horrified surely as she was at how brutal and sacrilegious this closeness was.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

She heard him sigh out loud as she nodded her head, his large, rough hand stroking lightly her soft buttock.

"Let's take a bath." He suggested and she nodded again, completely without strength.

They undressed slowly when they were left alone with the steaming tub filled with pleasantly warm water. She dipped her feet into it first and then sat between his legs, resting her wet back against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. She heard him hum quietly, feeling his fingers combing through her hair in a tender gesture.

They lay like this in silence, calming down at last, fingertips of his free hand trailing thoughtfully over her bare body making her feel goosebumps.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her suddenly, startling her completely − his voice quiet and uncertain, on the verge of a whisper.

She lifted her face higher, twisting with a quiet splash of water, wanting to look at him, raising her fingers to his cheek and running them over his skin.

"No." She replied softly, warmly, his hand combing through her hair with a light, musing gesture.

"I tried to kill you." He said lowly, as if merely stating a fact that he felt should concern her.

"Then why am I still alive?" She asked tracing her fingers along his chin, cupping her nose against his cheek. She heard him snort under his breath.

She didn't have to look at him to know that an amused grin was painted on his face.

She felt his hand trace a circle over her lower abdomen, massaging her warm skin under the water, knowing that all he was thinking now was the fact that she was filled with his spend.

Neither of them said anything more.

They conveyed most of the things to each other without words. She felt that he was able to express more with his hands than with his mouth, his fingers combing through her hair, stroking her naked body at night showing her what he felt, what he desired.

They both knew how empty and worthless words could be.

After what had happened to Alys Rivers, no woman dared to even attempt to come close to her husband anymore. She decided to show mercy to the lord who had brought her before them and was plotting against her, knowing that if her husband killed him, his whole family would turn against him.

She knew that the whole court had witnessed what would befall those who would try to come between them.

She found with amusement that they did not understand where their attachment and affection came from, thinking that it had a purely physical undertone that could always pass when someone more beautiful or more tempting appeared on the horizon.

Their marriage, however, was primarily based on how deeply they were bonded by their pasts, how they experienced things similarly, sunk in darkness, coming out at night to haunt the castle's inhabitants like ghosts.

She had the impression that there was a disturbing aura around them, that people feared them not only because of their power, but also because of that hint of madness they saw in their eyes.

After a time of war and unrest, her husband's lords advised him to take advantage of the fact that the new year was approaching, to use the date as a break from the past and to allow celebrations in the fortress as well as throughout the kingdom.

"Do you think it's appropriate? To hold a carnival and balls for chattels and drunkard lords?" He asked, sitting stretched out in his chair, obviously unconvinced by the idea, yet realising that his cool nature may have overlooked some of his subjects' needs, which did not mean that they were not important.

"The people have at last regained their King, peace has prevailed. Even though you won't do it, they want to move on and forget what happened eight years ago, begin again. Let them enjoy themselves, give them a day full of wine, bread and dances, let them decorate their town and enjoy themselves as they wish." She said softly, looking at him with a gentle gaze. He sighed heavily, massaging his forehead with his hand.

"Am I supposed to sit for hours behind a table and watch them make fools of themselves?" He asked impatiently, and she pressed her lips together, approaching him slowly with the quiet rustling of her gown.

"Arrange for it to be a masked ball. Let's blend in with the crowd. Don't we also have reason to celebrate, my husband?"

To her surprise, after much thought, he agreed to her proposal. His lords accepted his decision with relief, themselves apparently looking for an opportunity at long last to get out of the stress and sacrifice they had put in to help him regain his throne.

None of them told each other what they would wear or when they would appear in the throne room, recognising that it would spoil everything. She ordered that a matte, soft black gown be prepared for her, with a cut neckline with exposed shoulders and back, bold and unworthy of a queen or true lady.

She wore a black mask over her face, sheathed in a material identical to that of her gown, her dark hair loose. She did not put on any jewellery − she liked the simplicity and at the same time shamelessness of this attire.

She thought that this night she was not a Queen, she was not a lady but a shadow, a phantom, a mist, something intangible, something she had always wanted to be.

As she left her chamber she was immediately struck by the sounds of violin and flute music, loud conversations and laughter. She turned into the corridor and noticed hundreds of people discussing with each other, each of them disguised, masks over their faces.

She noted with satisfaction that no one bowed to her, that no one paid any attention to her, that she was like air.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sense of empowerment and impunity at the same time.

She stepped into the main hall, which was the throne room, looking at the couples dancing in the centre of it − lovers for just one night pressed their bodies close to the walls, enjoying the time they were given as best they could, knowing that tomorrow they would have to return to their husbands and wives.

They all had goblets filled to the brim with wine − she could smell the roasts, soups and breads from the tables around her.

It seemed to her that she had joined some temple of promiscuity and splendour, her heart pounding like mad.

She walked unhurriedly among the crowds of people, gazing intently at their fanciful costumes, eavesdropping on their conversations, listening with amusement as the apparent anonymity gave the court's inhabitants the courage to speak their minds about her and her husband.

"I once passed by our King's chambers at night. There were such noises coming from it that I thought they were both dying in agony." Said a woman with light hair pinned up in a bun, her mask and gown blue, adorned with gold threads.

"She is a witch. As a traitor's daughter, she certainly has her ways of deceiving the King's mind." The other woman, younger, replied − she seemed to recognise in her the daughter of one of the lords who had strenuously tried for weeks to stumble upon her husband in the crown's library, wishing to seduce him.

"They are both mad." She hummed to them with amusement, and saw that they looked at her, trying in the semi-darkness to recognise who she might have been, but she did not let them stare at her and moved on, looking thoughtfully at the dancing pairs.

She was surprised to hear someone moaning behind her, and spotted a couple who were clearly just having a rapture with each other − both of them pressed up against the wall, hidden in the shadows, apparently hoping that no one would interrupt their obviously wonderful delight.

She smiled under her breath, turning her face away − she felt a throbbing between her thighs at the thought that her husband might take her in the same way this evening, in front of everyone.

She almost laughed at the thought that perhaps these prudish ladies would recognise them and their moans.

"My Lady." She shuddered when heard someone whisper behind her, masculine and low, pleasantly throaty. She did not turn towards him, looking ahead.

"You caught my attention right away. That beautiful back." The man muttered, running his fingers over her exposed skin − she felt a pleasant shiver, but did not bestow a single glance on him.

"I have to dance with you, my Lady, because I swear I'm going to lose my mind."

She lifted her chin higher and hummed, considering his words.

"We have enough madness in this stronghold so I am afraid I must prevent your downfall and agree, my Lord." She said, extending her hand to him − he took it respectfully and led her towards the spinning pairs.

She hadn't done it for months and never in this way and this man, whoever he was, was an excellent dancer.

He dared to shamelessly place his hand on her bare back and only then did she lift her warning gaze to him; his hair was dark and curly, reaching his shoulders, he was well built and tall.

She saw that he parted his lips when he saw a small part of her face, her eyes, lips and chin emerging from under her black mask, looking at her as if his breath had been taken away.

"Tell me you don't have a husband." He choked out between one turn and the next, their hands meeting in another movement.

"I have a husband, my Lord, and I am a faithful wife." She said softly − the man licked his lower lip, leaning over her, only to take a few steps away from her, their hands touching again.

"Is that so?" He murmured defiantly, and she smiled, amused, feeling herself throbbing at the thought that her king, her husband might have just watched her from afar, might have recognised her, might have been furious with jealousy.

That he might have wanted to kill this brazen man.

"Mmm. I would be careful if I were you, my Lord. My husband is dangerous. He is a breathing death." She whispered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart at that thought, feeling with excitement that she was wet, her fleshy walls pulsing around nothing.

"I don't fear death. What I fear for is that I will never see you again." He said when the music ended, applause echoed around them, even though he should have done so, he didn't let go of her hand.

"You can be sure of that." She hummed with amusement, taking her hand and turning away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

She heard his desperate calls behind her and laughed, feeling like a mermaid who was leading an innocent young man to be devoured by a monster.

She was hot and walked over to the table to pour herself some wine, however the steel gilded jug was heavy and she had trouble lifting it. She shuddered and gasped when someone stopped right behind her, a large hand dressed in a black leather glove took it from her and filled her goblet halfway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?" She heard a cold, deep, familiar voice behind her, a powerful shiver of desire passed through her − she involuntarily parted her lips feeling the unbearable pulsing of her walls and lifted her cup to her lips, taking a deep sip from it.

"Yes, my Lord." She replied innocently, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his dark, dangerous, sinister aura.

"Dance with me."

She felt her heart stop for a moment and swallowed loudly, turning over her shoulder.

A tear-stained mask on his face, a hood on his head.

He looked like one of her father's ghosts.

Vhagar.

He held out his hand to her and she placed hers on it, allowing him to guide her between the couples spinning to the rhythm of the music.

She felt stunned by his scent and his presence − if a moment ago she had been a cruel siren longing to devour, now she longed to be devoured, wanted to burn in the fire of his wrath, to die in the embrace of his arms if that was his wish.

As they made a turn their hands clasped tightly over their bodies; they were far too close to each other to consider their dance decent, however this night no one paid any attention to such things, his gaze from under the transparent black material cold and distant.

"Do you enjoy balancing on the edge of life and death, my Lady?" He asked low, his voice like ice, like a sharp blade − her pink lips swollen with desire parted slightly, droplets of sweat on her bare arms as they spun around each other, their hands touching.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him hum, as if he accepted her answer.

She felt overwhelmed, at the same time knowing who was behind the mask, yet being able to pretend that it was a complete stranger, a phantom who wanted to kill her, rip her entrails apart.

They didn't take their eyes off each other for the entire dance − there was something sensual in their movements, his gloved hand barely touching her bare back, she felt like she was about to die of lust.

She wanted him to do this to her, and he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.

When the music silenced they bowed to each other. She immediately headed towards the crowd, glancing at him meaningfully over her shoulder, watching to see if he would follow her. She stopped only at the wall, with nowhere else to go, her face illuminated only by the flame of a torch hanging nearby.

He walked towards her with a calm, lazy, firm step, like an executioner, like a judge, like a sentence to be imposed on her. She moaned as he turned her violently towards the wall, immediately pushing against her, she felt his hardness pressed against her buttocks.

"Whore." He hissed, she parted her lips and mewled, feeling her moist core throb around nothing, her cheek pressed against the wall, her fingers clenched helplessly on the cold stone.

She heard him pull off his gloves and throw them on the floor − one of his hands grabbed her neck and forced her to arch back and buck up, the other with an impatient, rough movement lifted the material of her gown at the front, slipping immediately between her thighs, they both groaned low with pleasure when he felt how wet she was.

"− what happened here? − hm? − fuck − all sticky −" He breathed out between her helpless, sweet moans, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, digging deeply into her skin around her pearl, teasing her with circular, sure strokes, involuntarily her hips began to rub against his hard cock hidden in his breeches behind her.

"− oh − oh gods, yes −" She mumbled dulled by how pleasurable it was − she heard him chuckle lowly behind her, his other hand clasped tighter around her neck. She squirmed as his finger tentatively slid inside her, only teasing her slit.

"− look at him − look at him when you fuck yourself with my fingers −" He growled and she obeyed his command, looking at the man who only a moment ago was ready to ask her to marry him − he stood in the distance looking at them in disbelief, his lips slightly parted.

She moaned, responding with her hips to his strokes when she realised that he must have imagined he was in the place of that black hooded figure standing behind her.

"− does your husband fuck you too rarely? − doesn't he stretch you well with his cock? − hm? −" He snarled, sliding his finger in and out deeper and deeper, pressing and rubbing again and again the wonderful spot hidden between her fleshy walls.

"− I − mghmm −" She mumbled out feeling that she was about to come, panting loudly along with him, his hips rubbing aggressively against her buttocks.

"− let's show him what duty a husband has to his wife −" He exhaled, sliding his finger out of her, his hand wet with her juices lifted her gown up.

She felt a chill wash over her exposed buttocks − there was music and loud conversations all around them, everyone could see what they were doing and although they weren't the only ones, the thought that it was happening right now and this way, made her legs tremble.

She heard him quickly undo the clasp of his coat, covering her with his body, not allowing anyone but him to see her womanhood, all swollen and wet with her moisture. She squirmed when she felt his freed, hard erection hit her bare skin, his fingers spreading her folds before him as the fat head of his cock pressed against her slit from below.

He opened her wide with one simple, sharp thrust, slamming into her like mad, his hand clamped around her neck forcing her to lean back more − she could feel his hot breath against her ear despite his mask.

"− look at him − he's fucking himself with his hand while looking at my wife − at my − fucking − wife −" He growled sinisterly, infuriated, rooting into her quickly and brutally, with each thrust of his hips forcing her sore, fleshy muscles to barely fit him in, his thick, swollen cock rubbing her so wonderfully that a cry broke from her lips − even if she wanted to she couldn't see anyone anymore, her gaze and mind clouded from pleasure.

"− you know he's already dead, don't you? − ah − would you want him to touch you before he died? − for him to root his cock deep inside you just for once? −" He hissed out between aggressive, deep thrusts, pounding into her with a loud slapping of flesh against flesh, both of them panting desperately, her body responding to his every move with rocking her hips.

"− n-no − your seed − I want it inside me −" She babbled with difficulty between her whimpers and his thrusts from which her whole body trembled − she heard his low groan of surprise and delight, his cock throbbing hard inside her, feeling her walls clench around him greedily.

"− beg − fucking beg −" He growled pounding it into her so hard that her pleasure was on the verge of pain − she cried out loudly sensing that a few more of his movements and she would come, feeling that wonderful tickle in her lower abdomen every time the tip of his cock rubbed against her upper wall again.

"− please − please, husband, have mercy − fill your faithful wife −" She mewled pleadingly, despairingly, pathetically, thinking only of the fact that she wanted him to come inside her, that she wanted to feel his spend trickling down her thighs when she looked again at this insolent man.

"− faithful? − you let him touch you − your bare skin that belongs to me − fuck − you don't deserve this grace −" He mocked licking his lips loudly, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud click of her wetness with each ruthless thrust of his hips.

"− p-please − oh − oh gods, m close −" She mumbled out in delight and parted her lips in shock as a powerful wave of pleasure surged through her body again, again and again.

She clenched her eyes shut moaning shamelessly − she heard him gasp lowly, pounding into her faster, panting heavily, his cock twitching all over inside her.

"− fucking take it − take it-take it-take it −" He growled rooting it into her so hard that her throbbing walls forced him to let go and at last he filled her with himself with a sigh of relief, rocking his hips inside her for a while longer, several couples standing near them looked at them in disbelief.

She squirmed with despair when she felt him slide out of her − he tied his breeches quickly and lowered her gown with an impatient flick of his hand, covering her buttocks and thighs where his seed was trickling down. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had moved forward, between the crowd.

She sank to the floor, panting heavily, her face hot from the exertion huddled against the cold wall, her heart pounding like mad.

She saw that those around her were looking at her and she wondered if they recognised her.

After a moment, she rose as if nothing had happened and moved towards her husband's chamber, stepping inside without a word, slipping her black gown off her shoulders, lying on his bed with only her black mask over her face, her thighs sticky from their mingled moisture.

She lay in the dim candlelight as he stepped into his chamber − her attention immediately drawn to the fact that he had no mask, his hood slipped from his head, his hands all covered in blood.

With a calm, nonchalant movement, he approached the table and undid the buckles of his cloak, dropping it to the ground, sinking his hands into a bowl of water, washing them thoroughly of the sticky red.

"Has my wife enjoyed her evening?"

"Yes, my King." She whispered softly, lying on her back, one of her legs bent at the knee swinging slightly from side to side, her hands placed on either side of her head.

"Mmm."

"I warned him that I have a husband and that I am an obedient, faithful wife. That this was the last day of his life. But he didn't listen." She whispered, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, knowing that they were both mad, that she shouldn't feel such heat at the thought that he was so sickly jealous of her.

And yet.

"Mmm, no need to fret about it anymore, my love. He will never bother you again."

_____

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overnowsfcb · 5 months

Text

halfway out the door; fermín lópez

summary: fighting to keep a little flame alive underwater, you couldn't lose the only stable thing in your life

warnings: ANGST!!! (no good ending) mature language, mental health issues (panic attack, anxiety, emotional distress), relationship struggles, unhealthy dinamics, brief mention of smut themes. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 3,3k

note: hiii! it's me again, this time posting for my sweet boy (who is not as sweet in this story) fermín. im planning to do something with all the 1989 vault tracks x barça players. so take it as the first from the series!! also, apologies if the angst hits hard, promise to post fluff next time (its a bit of challenge for me haha) super excited about this and would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions! – venus 🫂💐🫧 p.s.: im so proud of this one tbh

He didn’t seem to have enough time for you anymore. You didn’t want to see the subtle twist, but you knew him all too well and an imperceptible change for everyone was an imposing earthquake in your world.

It was in the hours that your messages would be waiting for a response and the way he wasn’t starved to taste your lips anymore. Once, he’d find an excuse to be with you, even if only for brief minutes. He’d dash to your apartment bearing your favorite chocolate with the pretext of keeping you fed. A smile brightening and your stomach still produced the same fluttering butterflies, as the first time he kissed you underneath the moonlight at fourteen.

Back then, everything was perfect, the chill air in your faces as you ran with sand getting between your toes, you could still feel his timid hands and tender touch on your waist as you both shared a breathtaking kiss.

Your mother's words echoed - relationships don't last forever. You'd always dismissed her musings, attributing them to the bitterness stemming from your father's departure. But now, that thought held a glimmer of truth.

He was your soulmate, your solid backbone, he would hold the candles for you even if his arm grew weary, drawing strength from unimaginable places. Unseen pictures would fill his phone, capturing your candid moments, proudly setting you as his lock screen. One cherished memory stood out: a photo of you, pajama-clad, returning from a late-night ice cream run, a victorious smile on your face. You had lost a bet that day, darting to the store at 1 AM, just a street away from your building.

However, now everything appeared to be falling apart; the last picture in his gallery folder, titled 'I love, mine, mine, mine,' dated back to July, and it was already November. It contrasted the warmth of July with the chilling absence of recent affection.

Yearning for something to blame, tears seemed futile as memories replayed relentlessly, etched deep within your heart. Each sob felt like a painful reminder of the emptiness in the cold, desolate bed without him by your side. Staring at it blankly, your mind echoed the silent void, your chest tightening with every expelled breath.

Sleeping alone always felt unbearable. You reached for your phone, gazing at the lock screen displaying a snapshot of both of you in a summer pool. His outings with friends never bothered you; you accepted that he was now part of Barcelona's first team, and you weren't his priority. However, deep down, a simple goodnight message like "Sweet dreams, Pip, I love you" was all you silently longed for. Was it too much to ask from someone who claimed to love you?

The absence weighed heavily as you saw the clock strike 4 AM. This hour always induced a sense of dread, a time too late to sleep, opening the gates to wandering thoughts about life's choices. Moving to Barcelona for him might have been a hasty decision.

In Sevilla, there wasn't much to lose. Your little town overwhelmed you, especially under the weight of your living nightmare, your mother and her pursuit of perfection. That was until she married your toddler brother’s father, her focus shifted almost forgetting about your existence.

He was your escape from that suffocating environment. Initially, it felt liberating, but gradually, it became confining again. The cage expanded as you became his pillar while his name was in everyone’s mouth, especially girls who found him attractive. The weight of being his support, witnessing the attention he received, caused an internal storm. But he wouldn’t change you, right? Yet, the conflict brewed within, the tug-of-war between being the support he needed and holding onto your own identity.

You grew tired of waiting for him, tossing and turning in bed for ten minutes, before finally succumbing to sleep, cocooned in blankets to ward off the cold.

Abruptly opening your eyes, hours later, your body spasmed and your heart raced, reflecting the recent struggles with sleep these days. Observing to your side, relief washed over you; he lay there peacefully, an arm draped over your waist.

Tears welled in your eyes, a sense of loss filling your chest. Deeply in love, you realized your first waking thought was about him, albeit taking a negative turn.

What if I lose him? What if I lost the lighthouse in the middle of the sea? The uncertainty of the waters and the potential fall weighed heavily.

You wanted to get back to those times when you smiled as you landed your eyes, his body next to you, where blonde strands of messy hair framed his face and you delicately organized them while you talked and kissed every morning, staying in bed like an old married couple, feeling each other's warmth, laughter used to fill the air as he playfully booped your nose.

The weight of invisible hands squeezed your chest, making each breath a desperate gasp for air.

You didn't want to feel this anxiety; your breath became erratic. Rushing to the terrace, you breathed as if your mind forewarned a trailer of what has to be.

Struggling to regain control, your hands tightened on the cold railing, a reminder of the grounding reality you struggled to grasp.

Peering down, the height induced paralysis, intensifying your vertigo. "y/n, estás bien?" (are you okay?) His concerned voice, muffled and distant, struggled to penetrate the thick fog of panic, fear rooted you in place, afraid the floor would fall through if you made a step.

"Amor, háblame." (darling, talk to me) He approached, unsure. This panic attack was the first in years. His hand on your shoulder offered reassurance like an anchor, and you emerged from the state, meeting his gaze with your tear-stained eyes; he was still your gentleman. He was still yours.

And you needed to repeat it to stave off madness.

"Abrázame," (hug me) you whispered in a fragile plea. His arms enveloped you, he was the refuge that you needed; his familiar scent eased your breathing.

His head on yours, he sought to share his heartbeat, attempting to quell the sudden anxiety and the questions that haunted your mind. His furrowed brows hinted at his confusion, but conversation could wait. For now, it was about you. The one who never failed him; he couldn't fail you now.

When your body distended completely, he gently guided you back to bed. You clung to him, as if he could run away at any moment.

You walked to your side of the bed and he tucked you in like no one ever did before, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead, an attempt to dissipate the negativity.

“What time is it?” you inquired, looking up at him.

“Six a.m., sleep. ok?” He stroked your head, and your eyes closed under the weight of fatigue. “I love you so much.”

Days passed after the incident. He chose not to ask more about the reason behind your anxiety, he decided to act as if everything was fine.

This didn't imply he lacked concern for you, but it certainly felt that way. His demeanor towards you was still unchanged.

Feelings unaddressed hung in the air, manifesting in the cold kisses and the superficial small talk that never deepened. But, in front of everyone, you maintained the façade, accepting compliments from everyone about your seemingly perfect relationship. Only if they knew the underlying truth…

Yet, you personally sensed his gradual withdrawal, a palpable feeling of him slipping through your fingers. The strain became evident as you found yourself having to repeat things that were important to you at least three times, only for him to continually forget. Or the lackluster pecks he gave you, making you feel pathetic.

Although feeling unwanted, you weren't a resentful person, so you would religiously sit in the stands at every game and witness how he gained fan's hearts with outstanding performances on the pitch, earning the title of man of one of the champions league matches and you loved how the stadium echoed his name as he made an incredible goal.

You found joy in his happiness, doing his thing with the team of his dreams. In that moment, your mind transported into a different time – those moments when you stood by his side, offering comfort during his moments of self-doubt, back when he believed his dreams would forever be just that – dreams.

His satisfaction meant the world to you. Meeting him as he emerged from the dressing room, already showered, you couldn't help but admire how his wet hair framed his face.

A big smile adorned his face as he approached you. Opening your arms, your bodies collided as he effortlessly lifted you spinning around, creating a whirlwind of laughter that filled the air.

Once he gently set you down, you couldn't contain your pride. Cupping his cheeks, you locked eyes with him. The sense of accomplishment and joy was overwhelming. Your lips met his in a deep, meaningful kiss – one that hadn't been shared in weeks, but in that moment, it felt like the perfect reunion.

You believed this moment marked a fresh start, a much-needed rejuvenation to propel you forward. That optimistic outlook, however, disintegrated after he bid you farewell at your apartment, scrolling through TikTok on your couch, a video of his post-match interview caught your eye, and an involuntary smile crept onto your face.

His voice echoed through the video, captivating in its beauty. The interviewer's final question lingered in the air, "Who are you going to celebrate this with?" Anticipating a mention of teammates, family, and you, you were bewildered as the final words left his mouth – your name conspicuously absent.

And in that instant, the realization struck: he hadn't kept his promise to do a heart gesture to include you in his celebration either. But you decided to let it slide; perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins that caused him to forget, and you were willing to overlook it.

You turned on the TV to avoid your thoughts. He no longer watched movies with you, and lately, the time you spent together felt like his phone held more allure than anything you did to catch his attention.

Without even mentioning that he wasn't fucking you lately, offering excuses of exhaustion from training or unexpectedly halting any progress when things got heated and leaving your folds wet.

But still, your mouth stayed shut, justifying every action. What you didn't know is that only one drop was missing in the glass before it overflowed – the last straw.

And eventually, the bomb exploded in the least suitable scenario. You stood by his side, his arm around your waist, desperately wanting to take his hand out and shout your feelings in front of everyone.

You didn't want to be there; you longed to be at home with your fluffy cat, who offered more comfort than Fermín did in these past months.

He was so smooth about it, engrossed in the conversation with his friends, seemingly oblivious to your distress. You whispered in his ear that you needed to get home, you weren’t feeling at your best, the strobe lights blinding you, the music pulsating louder than your heartbeat. It felt like water was reaching your nose, and you feared you'd stop breathing any moment.

Yet, you stayed, like a naive girl striving to make everything perfect for her lovely gentleman. But was still that gentleman who put you above all else?

The voices and laughter from his friends overwhelmed you. While you genuinely liked them and had never encountered an issue before, this night seemed a challenge you couldn't survive.

Your gaze darted around, hoping for a savior amid the sea of faces. But there was no one.

The air seemed to get thinner, and your chest constricted, as if locked in a slowly tight embrace. The blue dress discomforting your skin, felt like an additional layer of confinement, fantasizing to shed not only the fabric but also the skin beneath.

It was as if transparent walls were materializing around you, and this was the moment to escape a place to which you didn't belong, feeling like a misplaced puzzle piece, you watched him again with pleading eyes, silently urging him to notice you.

“Fer, really, I need to go home.” You whispered, careful not to let his friends overhear. He scanned your gestures, it took him a few seconds to realize that something about you was off. You wish he had seen it earlier.

Everything he did was later than you needed it, when he did the things, you have already fixed yourself into the uncomfortable.

“Okay, let's go.” He nodded and he finally took out his hand off your waist, allowing a momentary exhale. Greetings were exchanged with his friends and you reciprocated, not wanting to show an impolite image.

Almost running, your feet propelled you outside of the disco, pushing people out of your way, without waiting for Fermín.

The doors swung shut behind you, plunging the abrupt silence upon your ears. Relief washed over you.

Closing your eyes, you took deep breaths. You needed to hold yourself like the grown woman you were and not cry. As the doors swung open and closed again, you turned to find Fermín, a frown etched across his face.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” his voice held a trace of anger, making you shiver. Realizing the street wasn't the place for such a conversation, you began walking towards the car, your feet aching from the high heels worn that night.

He hurried to catch up, the tension palpable. When the car alarm reached your ears, signaling it was unlocked, you opened the door and entered as quickly as you could.

Sitting there, attempting to adjust to sudden silence, you sensed his presence beside you.

Leaning back into the headrest, you brought your hands on your face.

He started talking again. “What's going on you?” you hesitated to face him, reluctant to confront those expressive brown eyes you memorized like the back of your hand.

As he insisted again to hear a response, anger got to your head. Without warning, you exploded, all the carefully restrained words meant to preserve your relationship pouring into a torrent.

“I'm just so damn exhausted! I feel like I'm invisible. I ache to be seen, to matter in your eyes again. I’ve been here, baring my soul, and it feels like you're a million miles away.” Your scream echoed, tears smudging your makeup. You saw the weight of his actions settling on him as his eyes reflected comprehension. A sob escaped your lips, he stood frozen. “I'm just asking you to hear me, to truly see me, and realize that I'm shattering inside because I've already fought too much alone for the person who I thought I would marry.”

He shook his head, a boy who had always the right words now seemed that they left their mind, leaving him defenseless. A hesitant pause filled the car.

Lips parted, but the sentences seemed to dissipate before finding form. It was as if they were navigating a maze of thoughts, searching for the right words to offer comfort or understanding, yet coming up empty-handed.

You got tired of waiting, you've been doing it for such a long time, you almost felt old. But if he just opened his mouth, you knew you would forgive him. “Let's go home.” You whispered, disappointed about a man who you were calling the love of your life.

He gripped the steering wheel and hit the road. Memories flooded back of the anecdotes shared in that white car, now slipping through your fingers like ash.

You pondered the absence of rain, almost expecting the heavens to open up. Wasn't it obligatory for the sky to weep when something magical began succumbing to rationalism?

When you arrived at the house, he finally was able to speak. “I'm so sorry for everything that I caused you.” He didn't know if physical contact would be well received from you. So he gripped even more the steering wheel, needing to make something with his hands, getting out the tension.

“What happened to us, Fer?” your heart-wrenching question hitting him. You were already talking in past tense.

There wasn't an exit for this situation, and he knew that. He wished he could build a time travel machine and make everything alright, fix the first mistake that led to this big snow ball that was making an avalanche. “I-I don't know.”

“I think I'm coming back to Sevilla.” you confessed, stepping out of the car. Your headache due to the tears that you've been letting out and your eyes were puffy.

As you stood outside the car, the quiet suburban street provided a bleak contrast to the storm raging within your emotions.

Fermín, still gripping the steering wheel, searched for words that could somehow mend the gashes that had formed between you two. The realization of the inevitable distance settled on him like a heavy cloak.

“I never meant for it to come to this,” he finally uttered, voice heavy with remorse. “I let things slip away, and I can't forgive myself for that.”

You, caught between the pain and the need for resolution, gazed at him with a mixture of sorrow and longing. The familiar surroundings of the neighborhood seemed to transform into a backdrop for the end of something significant. You already knew you were never coming back here.

In the distance, a streetlamp flickered, casting intermittent shadows on the pavement. You took a deep breath, the chill in the air stinging your lungs, and said, “Sometimes, we have to go back to move forward.”

His eyes, filled with regret, met yours. “Is there anything I can do to make things right?”

But the answer remained unsaid, it wouldn't be fair to give him instructions and keep rowing and carrying him while he was just there. Wounds were already too deep and your energy was drained.

You turned away, the distance between Sevilla and this quiet street growing smaller in comparison to the emotional gap that now separated you two.

The door creaked shut, marking the end of a chapter that perhaps, in the unfathomable depths of your heart you didn't want to admit that you anticipated it.

In the solitude of your apartment, surrounded by echoes of shared laughter and the ghost of a love that once flourished, you confronted the daunting task of rebuilding your world. The faint glow from the streetlamp outside cast a melancholic light on the remnants of what was.

Fermín, still parked, felt the shared years withering in the blink of an eye, something you had been discerning for a torturing amount of time. The engine hummed softly, an averse companion to the lingering regret in the air. As he drove away, the distance between your hearts seemed insurmountable.

You watched as Blaugrana, your Calico fluffy cat, approached you unawarely of everything surrounding her, you sat on the wooden floor with her purring next to you. The sparkle of her collar made you remember how your life was bound to be lived with Fermín forever, in that collar your initials were carved. You didn't want to fall back to this cruel reality.

You even commanded yourself to religion to save your relationship, months before. Night after night, you poured the essence of your yearning into prayers addressed to Aphrodite, beseeching her to weave the threads of love and passion back into your relationship, to restore its former glory. Each whispered plea carried the weight of your sincere desire, a desperate hope that the goddess of love might heed your call and guide your connection to the blissful days of yore.

But even that didn't work. And you realized the hug of what you thought would be a fresh start unraveled into the deceptive clarity of terminal lucidity. Now you would hear the eternal melancholic tone of the complete loss of vital signs. Forever.

#fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez #fermin lopez angst #football angst #football x reader #gavi x reader #pedri x reader #fermin lopez imagine #fermin lopez x you #football imagine

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igotanidea · 2 months

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Forgetter: Jason Todd x reader

This was one hell of a day.

(this narrator got a feeling like she's been using this line in the story way too often, but hey! Y/N had a really busy and hectic life so what do you expect me to say?)

No, but seriously.

When she got into the shop in the morning before work to do some quick grocery and saw the flowers and buquetes standing pretty much everywhere, her first thought was what's the occation.

Took her three hours to realise the date on the calendar.

February 14th

St. Valentine's Day.

And it made her smile wondering what kind of gift her beloved boyfriend would offer her. Honestly she would be over the moon with just one flower or a simple card, but knowing Jason and his deeply hidden romantic soul he would go for something original.

So all that was left was waiting for the evening till the end of her shift and getting home to have some hearty celebration.

***

8 hours passed in a blur. Between a ton of people wanting something, new cases and stuff needed ASAP or even yesterday, stupid photocopier that refused to cooperate and a few small but quite painful paper cuts there wasn't much time to fantasise.

And all she needed for some love, peace and quiet, perhaps a glass of wine and chocolate, movie and cuddles with her favourite teddy bear while whispering sweet words of some long forgotten Romanticism poet.

Instead, she walked in on a blood stain on the floor. A red trail starting from the window and leading to the kitchen.

KITCHEN.

Out of all places that was the one he decided to crawl into, and it made her shiver. There might have been a few reasons behind his (lack-of) logic, but this room was the only one filled with sharp tools perfect for defence. Or attack. Depending on the side.

"JASON!!?!?" she yelled dropping her bag on the floor and completely forgetting about the necessity of keeping quiet while in a potentially dangerous situation. "JACE WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!" she frantically rushed to the kitchen searching for dead bodies or chopped limbs.

There was no such thing.

But-

the pile of dirty dishes in the sink

the mobs of clothes begging for laundry

unidentified stains on the floor, the origin of which she didn't even want to guess

and the smell of burning.

and her wonderfully wonderful boy wonder sitting in the middle of it all, shirtless (which may have been a mildly mitigating circumstance) with some new fresh cuts and bruises (which were definitely aggravating the situation) patching himself up.

"Hey princess." he said jauntily sending her the most charming smile as if this was all normal.

"Jace--" she opened her mouth to say something, anything but no words came out and she just froze in the middle of the kitchen with empty eyes fixed on his silhouette.

"Hey. Hey Y/N? What happened? Look at me." despite the stinging and half-applied stiches he got alarmed and was by her side immediately. "Baby. Come on, talk to me." his hand on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"What- What is all this?" she half-sobbed waving her hand around the mess.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry about that. Didn;t really have much time for the house maintenace today. I got a trail of this villain that-"

"Villain....?" she stuttered. Any other day, any other night she wouldn't say a thing about his Red Hood duties, but 14th? Did it mean nothing to him.

"Yeah, I've been hunting him down for weeks now and-"

"Jason..."

"I got involved and lost sense of time I guess while--"

"Jason..."

"Look I promise I will clean it later, after --"

"TODD!" she yelled in frustration

"WHAT?" he spat back instinctivelly getting into fighting mode when her scream spurred him on. "shit. sorry. Sorry baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you... Hey! Hey Y/N, please, don't cry!" the tears falling down her cheeks were both confusing and heartbreaking "god. fuck. I'm sorry. I;m so sorry..." he muttered wrapping arms around her and pulling her to his chest feeling guilty like never before.

"What day is today...?" she sobbed, the words a bit muffled due to the squeeze.

"Wednesday."

"What day of the month?!"

"14th...." his eyes grew wide "Oh, holy fuck...."

The amount and variety of curses that rushed through his head are not to be repeated here.

The one that took the spotlight though was something along the line of him being a total fuckup for forgetting the so-called most romantic day of the year.

Holy fucking mother fuckery fuck. (yeah, I know what I said before about not quoting his thoughts, but screw it, he was wailing in self-hatred).

And even if it meant nothing to him, it meant so much to her. And she was his girlfrend, his lover, his soulmate so this was a huge, huge failure on his part.

"Y/N..." he whispered not sure how to proceed but knowing well enough he had to thread carefully. "Y/N, princess, please forgive me...." the grip on her body tightened significantly as Jason headed to the rage fit and was barely holding back from punching a wall in blind fury on himself for letting her down.

"I just wanted some quality time with you..."

"Quality time?" he repeated. That was a surprise. So she didn;t want flowers? Jewellery? Chocolate? A spa weekend? An expensive shopping on his expense. Cause he would give her all that if she said a single word. But she chooses...

"Yeah, quality time." she pulled back and looked up into those remorseful green eyes. "Just you and me. No vigilante. No Red Hood. I know it's a lot to ask, but please... please..., be Jason Todd for me tonight."

"Y/N." his tone was serious and she knew what was coming.

"Ok... Ok, I get it..." she muttered, avoiding his eyes, wriggling to escape his embrace.

"Don't you move away from me, you silly girl!" he grabbed her waist again and carried her to the couch bridal style. "Quality time. You want it you got it."

"Did you just paraphrase--"

"Ariana Grande. Yes. But trust me, she got nothing on you."

"Does it mean--?"

"I'm staying with you. But only on one condition."

"And what may that be?" she smiled softly, nuzzling against his chest.

"You get into your silly head that I love you every day of the freaking year, ok? I don;t need those five special days to go overboard while forgetting the other 360. My love is always with you."

"You only say it cause you're too much of a pussy to admit you fucked up." she teased, but smiled fully through the remnants of the tears

"Oh did I really?" he brushed lips over hers "did I really fuck up?"

"Big time..."

"guess that leaves me 364 days left to beg for your forgiveness."

"Idiot!" she punched his chest playfully

"Come on sweatheart we both know you love me." he grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it before planting soft pecks on each of her knuckles while looking deep into her eyes.

"Yeah... you keep telling yourself that..." she hummed.

She loved him.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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goldennikko · 1 year

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INJURY AND CUDDLES — le sserafim

summary : you lost your footing, the one you've been warning the girls about, and hid your injury. however, it wasn't long before the girls found you in a state that gave them heart attacks.

pairing : le sserafim x 6th member!reader

tags : f!reader ; idol!au ; reader is '01 liner ; injured!reader ; platonic!eunchae ; crying ; light argument ; physical injury

requested: ✔

word count : 6.3k

"bam, bam, bam."

"like this?"

"no, no. like this."

the members watched you teach the specific part of the dance that eunchae couldn't seem to grasp. the maknae had been struggling for a while, and when you noticed her stumbling and pausing in the mirror, you decided to give her a bit of time, but eventually stepped in because the poor girl was on the verge of crying.

you could tell because a pout was forming on her lips.

so there you were, demonstrating the dance to eunchae, and she was staring at you intently, her gaze shifting from your figure standing right next to her to the mirror. she tried to imitate it, but she stumbled, causing her to cling to your arm, whining in embarrassment.

"unnie~"

however, as the ever-patient unnie that you are, you smiled reassuringly and affectionately patted her head. eunchae leaned against your shoulders and stomped her foot childishly. the members cooed, yunjin grabbing her phone from the floor to record the cute moment before it ended.

"i know, it's okay. here." you picked up your water bottle and handed it to the maknae, who was quick to down it.

you tapped her chin when she pouted at you, and she immediately paid attention. when you signaled, the choreographer played the song and you danced slowly to it, eyes locked with eunchae.

"you have to watch your footing here." you spoke louder so the girls could hear you over the music, and they were in the back so you could properly teach eunchae, offering support every now and then.

"let me try again." eunchae said, her face and voice determined, causing everyone to scream excitedly.

"hong eunchae!"

"you've got this!"

"eunchae! eunchae!"

"slay, baby gorl!"

"if you nail it, i'll treat you to dinner."

eunchae had never whipped her head so fast. hearing your sacred vow, she gave you a wide-eyed stare. she would never turn down free food.

furthermore, it was you.

you were extremely generous.

you smiled at her eyes blazing at the mention of free food and you took the empty bottle from the maknae. the choreographer played the song at normal speed again and you danced calmly while watching eunchae finally nail the dance through the mirror.

the maknae exchanged a shocked look with you, her steps faltering, and you simply smiled proudly. "you did it, eunchae-ah."

more applause erupted in the room and quick footsteps approached you two, grabbing the maknae in a bear hug.

"we're so proud of you." chaewon held eunchae's face in her hands, proudly looking at her, while yunjin excitedly shook the maknae. sakura was beaming, her hands running up and down eunchae's back, and kazuha was complimenting her.

"you did so well." kazuha said, causing yunjin to nod in agreement. "you did it better than me."

eunchae giggled, loving the attention. "ask y/n unnie to teach you!"

that's how eunchae directed the attention to you. you were simply standing by the side, admiring their interactions, when yunjin dashed over, followed by the others.

"teach me as well, y/n/n!"

you watched yunjin cling to you, childishly pouting. you were cringing at your fellow '01 liner, which was visible on your face, but deep down you thought the american was cute.

you couldn't say anything because kazuha was in front of you. "me, too."

you let out a sigh. "come on, guys. you weren't even having any trouble earlier."

sakura then spoke up, approaching with the leader on her tail. "i think i'm having a problem with the ending."

chaewon nodded in acknowledgement. "i find the opening quite hard."

eunchae cackled as she saw the chaos she had caused. you gave the young girl a not-so-scary glare from across the room. well, you couldn't really give her that look if she was acting so cute.

eunchae simply stuck her tongue out, teasing you even more. "my free food, unnie!"

"whatever, manchae."

before you knew it, the day had come to an end and the girls had to return to their dorm. you were staying back for a while, and they wanted to join you, but you shook your head because you knew if they stayed, you wouldn't be able to get anything done.

"but unnie~" eunchae whined. "you promised free food!"

"i did, but i didn't say that it was tonight." you teased, causing the maknae to tug repeatedly on your arm.

"come on now, y/n/n. you can come in early tomorrow, it's late." yunjin pouted at you.

the american knew you were weak when it comes to their cute faces and actions, making you avert your eyes. however, you regretted it because kazuha was giving you puppy eyes from next to sakura.

you groaned. "i'll be home in an hour or two, guys."

"too long." eunchae grumbled, attention now on the sleeve of your jacket.

chaewon finally stepped in, fortunately for you and unfortunately for the girls. "come on, children. she'll be home before you know it."

even though the short-haired girl wanted to disagree, she couldn't. besides, she trusted you enough to come home right away and she really just couldn't say no to you; she wouldn't admit it, but she knew that.

even the girls knew. but they couldn't tease her because angry chaewon is a force to be reckoned with.

the maknaes and yunjin sighed at the leader's approval. they took their time giving you big hugs and they actually wouldn't have pulled away if sakura hadn't intervened. the eldest drew you in for a hug, gently squeezing you.

"keep in touch, okay? be quick."

you nodded. chaewon gave you one last look, which made you shiver but also smile and wave. the two oldest pushed the other three out of the room, their whines audible even after the door was closed.

"they're so clingy." the choreographer remarked, amused.

you laughed. "very, unnie. now what was my part again?"

with that, you and the choreographer worked on the dance, with her teaching you and you picking it up quickly, which she praised. although, admittedly, it was hard. it was a little complicated and it was different from what the other girls had learned for their solo parts.

the night went on until it was time to go home, but you stayed a little longer. you bowed as the choreographer said goodbye, your fingers busy typing on the phone to send a quick message to chaewon.

you'd definitely get an earful when you got home, but it'd be toned down a little because you remembered to send her a message.

you didn't the last time...

well.

it's probably best not to bring it up.

with the little extra time you had—

actually, chaewon did not give you permission. you looked down at your phone, which was currently blowing up with text messages.

perhaps this would be worse than the last time, you cringed at the thought.

you focused on the task at hand while shaking your head. chaewon could wait. hopefully. You watched yourself as you danced to the song with such fluidity and power, cringing whenever there was a slight mistake.

If the girls were there, they'd notice the way you scrunched your nose and cheer you on, knowing how much of a perfectionist you were. however, you were only met with the song playing in the background.

minutes passed, many scrunches of the nose were shown at the same time errors were spotted before the mind could even realize, as if the action was now out of reflex. they were minor errors, but you didn't like them.

so you danced.

polished.

danced.

and polished.

but before you knew it, you were plummeting to the ground. a loud hiss of pain echoed through the room and you quickly covered it with one hand, as if someone else would hear it over the loud music, and tears quickly blurred your vision as you hugged your leg to your chest.

you pushed yourself up, noticing the sweater you'd discarded, the one you'd dropped carelessly on the floor and the one that caused you to slip.

"who the hell drops their stuff like that?" you grumbled, tears sliding down your cheeks.

you reached for your foot, groaning from the pain wracking your entire body, particularly your foot. as you untied your shoelace, you were crying and trying to keep your hiccups to yourself, afraid someone would hear you.

"shit."

as you stared at your foot, the only thing you could mutter was the curse word.

a sprain, you thought.

you attempted to move it, which you were quick to regret. you inhaled a large amount of air into your lungs in response to the pain shooting through your leg.

you cried out, no longer bothered if someone else heard you. "fuck, fuck, fuck."

you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to push the pain away. your mind was racing with panicked thoughts. how am i going to get home? how am i going to dance now?

you glanced at your phone, which had lit up because chaewon had sent you another message, but your gaze was drawn to the date and time.

the clock had struck twelve o'clock. this means you have a schedule later today, a dance practice tomorrow, and a performance the day after tomorrow.

this means you would have to suffer for three days at least.

of course you weren't going to tell the girls. you didn't want to add to what they already had on their plate.

however, you were still in a state of panic. you had no idea how to pull that off, pretending not to be in pain while dancing your ass off and acting fine.

when your phone rang, you snapped out of it. chaewon unnie. you reached for it and quickly shut your eyes, not because of chaewon's reprimanding voice, but because of another shot of pain from your foot.

"where are you?! it's midnight!"

you breathed shakily. "i'm on my way home, unnie."

"make it quick, y/n/n. i'm worried here."

"yeah, i know. i'll be quick."

"be careful, okay?"

"mhm."

the call ended there. chaewon pulled the phone away from her ear, her gaze fixed on the screen. she heard faint music playing in the background on the other end of the line, indicating that you were still at the building.

what worried her was your weak voice and the shaky intake of air, both of which were audible to her ears.

is she okay? god, i hope so.

chaewon cast a glance at eunchae, who had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for you. the maknae refused to sleep without you, claiming she would get cuddles because you didn't give her free food tonight. they sat in the living room for thirty minutes before the girl fell asleep.

chaewon paced around the living room, keeping her footsteps light so as to not wake the sleeping maknae on the couch. her gaze would dart back and forth between the clock and the door, hoping you'd already come in, and her frown became deeper as the minutes passed.

patience running thin, chaewon snatched the nearest coat, which happened to be yours, and walked to the door, groaning. she was going to meet you halfway, wherever you were, because her heart couldn't stop pounding. she reached for the doorknob, but it turned on its own, the door swinging open in front of her.

when she saw your half-covered face, she breathed a sigh of relief. you tilted your head, perplexed as to why she seemed ready to leave, but you bit your lower lip as she pulled you inside the dorm and into her arms.

"you got me worried!" chaewon scolded, a harsh slap being delivered to your shoulder.

you forced a chuckle as you adjusted your injured foot, attempting to return her tight hug, while resisting the urge to melt into her and cry. "i'm sorry, unnie. i had to walk home."

chaewon drew back to look you in the eyes, you were thankful it was dark so she wouldn't notice your pale skin, laying a hand on your cheek. "you should've told me."

you leaned down, planting a kiss on her head to reassure her you were safe and sound now. "i'm sorry. i will next time."

chaewon quickly shook her head. "there will be no next time. you're such a hardhead."

"i guess i got it from you." you chuckled, looking around and pausing when you saw eunchae.

chaewon followed your gaze, her own eyes softening. "she waited for you. well, tried to."

guilt gnawed at you. you would have gotten home to eunchae's cheeriness and whinings if you hadn't been such a perfectionist earlier.

you sighed and walked over to the couch, crouching down with a wince. you brushed her bangs away before tapping her cheek with your finger, to which she awoke and grabbed your wrist.

"i'm home." you whispered softly, tracing her nose.

eunchae giggled sleepily, finding the action ticklish. "welcome home."

you hummed. "come on, let's go to bed."

you went back to your room, eunchae clinging to the back of your shirt, rubbing her eyes. you kissed chaewon's head good night, causing her to smile.

you watched as eunchae climbed into your bed and promptly passed out. you chuckled and followed her lead, laying on your back and wrapping your arm around her. you elevated your injured foot and positioned it farthest away from her.

due to exhaustion combined with the pain from your injury, you passed out as well. the darkness greeted you with open arms, and as you passed out, the last thing your mind registered was eunchae cuddling closer to you.

the next day, you awoke with a throbbing pain in your foot that almost made you cry. you wiped your tears away and gently shook eunchae awake, telling her she needed to get ready for the photoshoot.

the baby quickly complied and returned to her room after requesting one last hug from you, which you immediately provided.

you had no idea how you managed to get ready that morning. all you knew was that you needed to reduce the swelling in your foot, which was looking awful right now.

you were on the verge of crying again, but you held it in, not wanting to alarm any of the girls, who would surely notice your puffy red eyes if you cried right now.

you managed last night. you're going to manage until you get better.

throughout the photoshoot, you relied on your members for support, particularly yunjin because she was the tallest and thus easier to lean on. yunjin enjoyed your attention, so she didn't question why you were suddenly clingy.

however, the members would complain if you stayed too long by yunjin's side, causing you to switch and yunjin to pout.

but you were right next to her right now.

"unnie loves me today." yunjin told the camera that was filming them for behind-the-scenes footage.

you gave her a puzzled look and clutched her arm tighter, which yunjin thought was reassurance, but you were really just in terrible pain.

"ah, what are you saying?" you asked, gaping. "i always do, jennifer."

yunjin grinned widely at the camera. "did you hear that, fearnots? she's my wife."

you kissed her on the cheek in silent agreement and trudged away, slightly struggling, while yunjin stared after you, her jaw dropping to the floor.

fuck. it hurts, the words that rang in your head so much that they became a mantra. it was difficult to walk normally, pretend you weren't in pain, and act like you were normal. you'd slip up now and then, a curse slipping off your tongue, but you'd cover it up, and your members would just nod, but still assist you cluelessly.

you made it through the day and went straight to your room when you returned to the dorm, claiming you had a few lyrics ideas. you knew the girls wouldn't dare to bother you whenever you announced that because you prefer silence and peace, much to their dismay.

"i wonder what she's writing about." sakura whispered as she plopped down next to chaewon on the couch.

chaewon sighed. "i'm not sure, but she probably won't be out until tomorrow."

"should we check on her?" kazuha queried, glancing at the stairs. eunchae bounced on her seat, ready to run upstairs if the unnie line said.

chaewon quickly shook her head. "you know she hates it when we disturb her lyric writing."

eunchae appeared to be deflated and yunjin emerged from the kitchen, the american patting her child on the head. "you'll see your mom tomorrow, manchae."

"but is it just me or y/n is clingy today?" the american commented with a smug smirk on her face.

chaewon rolled her eyes. "shut up. we get it, you got your moment." the leader grumbled, crossing her arms.

"no fair." eunchae whined.

kazuha shrugged. "at least she slept on my shoulder on our way home."

"well, i fed her earlier." sakura joined in, smiling.

"oh, right! unnie will treat me to dinner!"

"okay! okay, i get it. shut it please."

meanwhile, you elevated your injured foot on a stack of pillows and pressed the ice pack you managed to sneak into your room to your swelling foot, wincing but also relieved at the coldness seeping through your skin.

"well, that looks terrible." you grimaced.

it only got worse. it appears to be worse than last night. terrible, as you just mentioned. you considered telling the girls earlier when sakura's boot hit it, probably the reason why it looks worse, and you almost cried out in pain. however, your pride got in the way and you ended up biting your lower lip in silent agony.

sakura saw you and thought you were overreacting, which you couldn't blame her for because she had no idea you had a terrible injury down there, but the japanese still apologized and hugged you and wouldn't let you go until it was time for you to go for your solo.

"funny how i told eunchae to watch her footing. look where i am now." you sighed in disbelief and closed your eyes, relishing in the cold as it gradually reduced the throbbing pain.

you eventually fell asleep after attempting to come up with a plan for your sore foot for tomorrow's practice. would you be capable of pulling it off? no, absolutely not. you fell back onto the mattress, eyes closed, with that as your last thought.

the next day, you were deliberately avoiding the girls. you awoke with a fever and a pounding headache. your still throbbing foot wasn't doing you any favors with the constant pain it was sending up your leg.

you were deafeningly silent and pissed off during the final rehearsal for tomorrow's performance. you only speak when you are spoken to or when it is absolutely necessary. aside from that, you were quiet.

it didn't take long for the girls to notice your strange and frightening behavior today. chaewon was the first to notice and cast a wary glance at you, wondering why and how you had awoken on the wrong side of the bed today. one by one, the others became aware.

"is unnie okay?" kazuha queried, brows furrowed.

"i'm not sure, zuha. why?" chaewon returned the question, turning to the japanese ballerina, who was watching you down the water bottle. sakura and yunjin were nearby, both aware of your unpleasant mood today.

"unnie didn't look at me." kazuha said, pouting.

when you and kazuha were facing each other during the dance, you'd always meet her eye and wink at her jokingly right before her part. even after singing her part, the ballerina would always end up giggling.

"she just stared at the floor." kazuha turned to chaewon, causing the leader to pat her cheek in reassurance.

"maybe she's not feeling well, zuha." chaewon didn't know what to say and sighed.

"y/n unnie!"

you turned around to see eunchae leap from her starfish position on the floor. from across the room, she smiled at you and pointed to your bag.

"may i have your phone?"

you nodded and smiled softly, attempting not to show your exhaustion. eunchae cheered and ran to your bag, pulling out the item she was looking for, but she paused when she noticed a couple of painkillers in a small pocket.

the maknae blinked and looked at you, seeing that you were talking to sakura and yunjin.

why is she taking painkillers? eunchae paused to think, but quickly shook the thought away and returned to her original plan of filling your phone with her selfies. if something is bothering unnie, she'll tell us, right? eunchae nodded and pushed her suspicions to the side.

you pushed through the practice, eager to finish it without any mishaps.

when you put too much pressure on your foot, you would wince. you would occasionally adjust your position so that your weight would shift to your uninjured foot. you used your members as support while taking a break or watching the dance, which was mostly kazuha this time.

"did i do that right?" kazuha whispered to you.

you nodded firmly with a quick smile. "of course, zuha. it's your signature move, you're always the best at it."

kazuha returned the smile, pulling you closer by the hip. you were thankful at the time because you could finally lift your foot to relieve the weight on it. kazuha felt your weight on her but didn't mind and gently squeezed you.

nobody seemed to notice. when you winced, they assumed you saw a mistake, not on them but on your dance, so yunjin and chaewon would approach you after each dance to console you.

"you did well, baby~" yunjin sang, wrapping you up in a back hug.

the american nuzzled your shoulder and kissed it lightly. you were glad you wore a hoodie because otherwise she'd feel the heat off your skin.

you laughed, though both girls noticed it was a little lighter than usual. "did i?"

"of course, y/n/n. you're perfect." chaewon said, bringing her fingers up to tickle your side.

you buried yourself in yunjin's embrace to avoid the oldest of the three of you, still watching your step.

"unnie, come on! stop it!"

it was painful to dance; you had no idea how you did it, but you did. you completed the practice and the girls were extremely helpful, despite the fact that they had no idea about your injury.

speaking of injury, you retired to your room immediately, telling them you were tired.

"are you sure you're okay?" sakura as you passed her on your way to the stairs.

you smiled and planted a small kiss on her cheek. "of course, kkura unnie."

sakura sighed as she looked into your tired eyes, noticing your pale face. "good night, y/n/n."

"good night, unnie."

you sat on the bed, wincing as you removed your shoe with care. a quiet curse escaped your lips, and the silent tears you'd been holding back since practice began slipped down your cheeks.

you bit your skin to stop the sob from escaping and sighed audibly in relief when your injured foot was free of the confines of the shoe.

you avoided looking at it, but you knew it looked worse, if that's possible. you did dance with it all day, and you were relieved to be dismissed early so you could rest for the long day and night ahead. you lifted your leg to place it on the pile of pillows you didn't bother removing.

only when you thought you'd find peace and relief did the pain begin to spread through you. you winced, not bothering to muffle the sob this time. you wanted to call for chaewon or sakura, but it was too late because the darkness had come to get you.

eunchae found herself padding towards your room somewhere deep into the night. the maknae needed cuddles, which you unknowingly failed to give her due to your injury. because her room was close to yours, she arrived in time and turned the knob, which was surprisingly and thankfully unlocked.

"unnie…?"

her eyes widened when she saw your unkempt bed and disheveled hair. you'd forgotten to turn off the lamp, allowing her to see how you shivered as you lay on top of the blanket, seemingly passing out on it earlier.

your face was pinched into an expression she had never seen before on your normally calm and collected face. pure agony. your face was also splattered with tears, but some were still leaking from your eyes.

but the icing on the cake was your horribly injured foot. eunchae let out a terrified gasp and dashed towards chaewon's room, screaming for her unnies.

"chaewon unnie! chaewon unnie!"

chaewon and yunjin were still awake when they heard maknae screaming, a hint of fear in her tone. they emerged from their respective rooms just in time to see eunchae sprinting, tears streaming down her precious cheeks.

"eunchae?!"

"what's the matter?"

eunchae hiccuped. "unnie… y/n/n unnie… she—"

too worried about you, yunjin dashed to your room, passing by sakura and kazuha, who had been awakened by the screaming. kazuha followed yunjin, albeit sleepily, while sakura went to check on chaewon and eunchae.

"what happened, eunchae? chaewon?"

yunjin and kazuha's footsteps were loud as they ran down the hall and into your room. when they arrived, they were taken aback by your condition.

"unnie…?"

the rest of the girls arrived and were shocked to see you like that. their hearts pounded in their ears, their heartbeats racing in fear, fear for you, not for them. it was the first time you looked horrible. for the first time, you appeared to be in excruciating pain.

they were all terrified and frozen. chaewon and yunjin, on the other hand, pushed themselves out of the shock. chaewon looked for your phone to call the manager while yunjin rushed to your bed and gently took you into her arms. kazuha was right behind her, taking your leg to support your injured foot.

"unnie, hey, wait a little bit more, okay?" yunjin whispered shakily, watching kazuha brush your hair off your face. "chaewon unnie is calling oppa."

sakura cradled the maknae in her arms, allowing the girl to cry into her shoulder while she fought back her own tears. they all waited for the manager for what seemed like an eternity, but then they heard the sound of a vehicle outside.

yunjin carried your unconscious body downstairs, chaewon and kazuha close behind to support the two of you, while sakura led the sobbing maknae.

"what happened?!" the manager asked.

"we don't know—"

kazuha cut off the panicking yunjin, who had you situated in her lap. "it's her foot. it's injured, sprained." the ballerina said.

the two girls mentioned looked at you, and the others perked up at your weak voice. the manager began driving while still listening to you.

"hey, babe, y/n/n. you okay?" yunjin asked softly, her eyes blurred by tears.

she didn't like how pale your face was and how weak your voice sounded, barely above a whisper. you were always calm while also cheerful. you were always able to match their energies, especially eunchae's.

but you looked exhausted now.

weak.

"mhm."

kazuha sniffled. "we're almost there, unnie, you'll be fine."

those were the words you used to say to kazuha whenever she was in doubt. she had hoped to say the same words to you, but not in this manner.

you muttered a small 'okay' before closing your eyes and weakly clutching yunjin's hoodie. eunchae was still in sakura's arms, but she was no longer crying, despite the occasional sniffle. chaewon was sitting in the row next to you, yunjin, and kazuha. she kept her gaze fixed on you, frowning alongside you as a small groan escaped your throat.

you kept slipping in and out of sleep, your body screaming at you to sleep every time you tried to open your eyes to catch a glimpse of yunjin and kazuha's faces because they were right above you.

when you finally arrived at the hospital, you couldn't hear the commotion, but you felt yunjin running with you in her arms. you managed to open your eyes again, and the first and last thing you saw was yunjin's worried face before your mind forced you back to sleep.

you took your time resting, but when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by a bright light and a white ceiling. you groaned, your voice scratchy, and tried to get up when you felt something on your leg, it was elevated, and you looked around to see a hospital room setting.

you looked up as the door opened and a nurse entered, gently smiling at you. "you're awake, ms. l/n."

"what happened?" you inquired, and she handed you a water bottle, which you promptly drank.

"you were asleep for the entire day, ms. l/n. it's actually about to end." the nurse said, glancing at the wall clock and seeing the hand approaching twelve.

then you realized what she meant.

"the performance..." you mumbled. "i missed the performance."

"i'm sorry." she apologized with a sad smile. she knew you loved performing and was a perfectionist, too.

you couldn't say anything else to her because the door swung open, and a small smile appeared on your lips when you saw who was in charge.

"manchae."

"unnie!"

as she wrapped her arms around your shoulder, the maknae almost jumped on the bed with you. you grumbled at the force, but you squeezed her anyway.

you raised your head to see the nurse leave before catching chaewon's gaze. you reassured her with a small smile, causing her tense shoulders to sag and run to you.

"you're okay."

you made a humming sound. "well, unnie, i did sleep for the entire day." you joked.

"y/n/n?"

when yunjin entered the room, chaewon and eunchae quickly moved away, not wanting to be involved in her bone crushing hug, but eunchae stayed right next to you, playing with the hospital gown draped on you.

you coughed lightly as you tried to return yunjin's very tight hug.

"you scared us."

you sighed, your conscience gnawing at you. "i know, jen. i'm so sorry."

everyone, including sakura and kazuha, who had just entered, heard your apology. they joined you, kazuha replacing yunjin lightly and sakura caressing the back of your head.

"what happened?" sakura asked quietly.

when you shot chaewon a brief glance, everything fell into place. her eyes hardened as she glared at you and you avoided it, the leader scaring you once again.

"i got hurt when i stayed back to practice. i slipped on my sweater and then i hid it from you."

"why?" eunchae murmured.

you turned to look at her and your eyes softened as you met her wide glossy eyes. "come here, sweetheart."

you gently guided eunchae into your lap, wanting to comfort your unofficial child. "i didn't want to burden you." you admitted softly.

"you're an idiot."

yunjin immediately locked eyes with chaewon at that and they were stuck in a staredown.

"unnie." the american warned, her protective nature over you surfacing.

"yunjin-ah." you butted in before they could start arguing, causing the american to back down. "let unnie speak."

"i called you, y/n/n. you should've told me. us." chaewon began, her eyes welling up with tears.

"do you realize how scary it was to see you there like that? your condition scared all of us."

"did you know it was eunchae who saw you like that?" your gaze flitted to eunchae, who simply sniffled in response. you squeezed her before turning your attention back to chaewon.

"you should've told us. fuck the performances! we just want you to be okay."

the only thing filling the air of silence between the group after chaewon's rant was the calm beeping of the monitor that kept track of your heartbeat. you watched chaewon pant heavily and gulp, and kazuha came up behind her to pat her lower back.

you could tell her rant had a deeper meaning. i feel like i let you down as your leader. you understood chaewon's mind just as she understood yours. she knew how you've always despised the appearance of a mistake on you, so you've worked hard to be flawless.

you motioned for sakura to take eunchae, and you grabbed chaewon's wrist to pull her into you. as she buried her face in your hospital gown, you hugged her tightly.

"i'm sorry, unnie. i'm sorry for being such an idiot."

chaewon couldn't help but laugh tearfully at your joking tone and emphasis. "mhm."

"how was the performance?" you asked, causing chaewon to pull away and give you a reprimanding look, but you shook your head. "i just want to know how it went, unnie. who covered my parts?"

"me!" eunchae's hand shot up in the air with a teary grin before pointing kazuha. "and zuha unnie."

you were filled with pride as you reached up to pat eunchae's head and smiled at kazuha. "oh, i'm excited to see the performance."

sakura laughed. "i'm sure you'll be proud."

in response, kazuha shook her head. "i'm not sure if i did everything correctly."

chaewon made room as you clicked your tongue and pulled the ballerina closer. you gave her a stern look and kazuha returned it, but with much softer features.

"i'm sure you two did it better than me." you said, your gaze shifting between kazuha and eunchae.

eunchae smiled and nodded, enjoying the pride in your eyes, while kazuha sighed and rested her head on your shoulder.

however, the moment was cut short when you heard another sniffle and looked up with wide eyes, meeting sakura's teary ones. you gave the maknae line a look and they moved away to let sakura hug you tightly.

"that was really scary. don't do it again." sakura said, her voice muffled against your hair, fingers brushing through it as she always did when hugging you. "just... tell us. okay?"

you nodded to her shoulder. "i promise, unnie, i swear it."

you let sakura have you all to herself as your gaze moved to yunjin and eunchae, who were both looking at your sprained foot. you successfully drew their attention with your amused chuckle.

"wanna touch it?"

chaewon quickly shook her head. "no, yunjin, eunchae, please don't."

her pleadings were ignored as the two nodded, albeit hesitantly, and you gestured to your foot. chaewon sighed and watched as eunchae poked your foot, noting your small wince.

sakura felt the sudden jump of your shoulders as well and she played with the baby hairs on the back of your nape to comfort you because she knew the two crackheads couldn't be stopped.

yunjin poked at it as well and grimaced in disgust, causing you to laugh. you threw your head back, bumping heads with sakura.

"ew. what the hell."

you reassured and joked with the girls all night, well, it was actually past midnight. you were well aware that you had frightened them. you knew it was their first time seeing you in such pain. you were aware of their concerns and fears.

so you promised not to let it happen again and to let them know if anything was wrong with you.

it didn't take long for the girls to nod off. kazuha had dozed off on the chair, and her head was on the bed next to yours.

eunchae had already fallen asleep after poking your foot. the maknae climbed up beside you and snuggled into your side. but before she fell asleep, she told you one last thing.

"treat me to dinner once you recover, unnie."

laughter filled the room and you patted down the maknae's hair. "i promised, eunchae-ah. have i broken a promise?"

with that, eunchae fell asleep.

later on, yunjin had taken the other side of the bed, burying her face in your arm and wrapping her arm around your waist, her hand barely touching eunchae's skin.

"you scared me." the american mumbled, taking the opportunity to talk to you as chaewon and sakura left for a bit to talk to the manager.

you hummed. "sorry, jen."

"i love you." she mumbled and she smiled as she heard you whisper the sweet words back to her before falling asleep.

chaewon and sakura returned, cooing over the cuddle pile on the small hospital bed. they approached you and sakura placed a hand on your brow, scrunching her nose at your fever.

"go to sleep." sakura whispered to you, noticing your eyes fluttering slowly.

you complied and felt a small kiss on your forehead and another pair of lips planting another kiss on your cheek.

chaewon and sakura watched the mess in front of them, the former crossing her arms and sakura smiling gently.

"what a mess." chaewon exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

sakura laughed. "let's share the couch. come on."

while watching the pile on the bed sleep, they both listened to the monitor. chaewon looked at you with such tenderness in her eyes that sakura noticed and nudged the leader.

"huh? what is it?"

shocked, chaewon turned to the older japanese, her cheeks flushing slightly at the teasing look sakura was giving her. chaewon whined softly in complaint and looked away, attempting to hide her blush.

"i see that, chaewon-ah~"

"stop, kkura unnie."

sakura chuckled, but did as told. "she's so stubborn."

chaewon nodded, taking another look at you and noticing your head leaning towards yunjin's direction. you had your arms around the american and maknae, and she was certain your arms would be sore when you awoke.

"very much so. i love her for it."

sakura threw her a sideward glance. "even if she gives you a headache?"

chaewon laughed.

"even if she gives me a migraine."

"we all do."

nikko note: hi? i'm back? exam season is finallyyy done and i'm working on the requests now. this is longer than usual, i feel like my fics keep getting longer. i'm so sorry TT is this okay? huhu. please let me know. but i hope everyone enjoyed it! thank you!

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skyloftian-nutcase · 3 months

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New Zelda idea!

Ok, so this idea has kind of been simmering in my head but it’s getting entertaining now so I’m sharing it.

OC Zelda and Link!

Princess Zelda is a bold and beautiful young woman trying to prepare for ruling her kingdom. She is famous of her commanding personality, for her magical strength which comes as easily as breathing, and for being decisive. When a prophet speaks of impending doom and monster attacks are on the rise, Zelda goes to the Temple of Time with sacred artifacts to utilize the Triforce and stop the darkness before it can start.

However, when she tries to touch the Triforce it shatters into three pieces.

Zelda is stupefied and horrified. Why would it do such a thing? The Triforce only splits for those who are unworthy, and she of all people is freaking worthy ok???

But she isn’t. She’s left with only one piece: Power.

Humiliated but not defeated, she decided that she must seek out the bearers of the other two pieces so they can bring peace to the kingdom. This causes friction with her mother, who has been trying for years to reel her daughter’s pride in.

Zelda: I have to seek them out so I can fix this! Queen: You can fix this by fixing yourself. The Triforce deemed you unworthy, incapable of handling such a task. Zelda: Are you saying that I’m incapable of this? Queen: The goddesses are saying you are incapable.

Least to say, their relationship is a bit strained.

On her journey, she seeks out young men named Link. Legend says that was the hero’s name, and clearly he probably has a way to either help her find the missing Triforce pieces or he bears one of them.

Of course, the problem is that half the kingdom names their sons Link.

Zelda naturally thinks she can figure this out with her powers, so the first Link she finds she basically chaotically strong arms into joining her.

Zelda: So your name is Link, right? Link: Uh… yes, Your Highness. Zelda: Perfect! You’ll help me with my quest. Link: Um… I’m not exactly a hero, Your Highness. Zelda: Nonsense! I can sense the magic within you. You’re stronger than you know. Now, come along, destiny is calling! There is darkness looming and we must stop it. Link: I’m, uh, a masseuse. Zelda: Link: Zelda: Well I could use a massage anyway, so come on!

So Zelda and her legendary masseuse travel across the land seeking other Links, though none of the others seem to stick like the first one does. Zelda can sense that there’s something different about him, though she doesn’t know what. Maybe the fact that he’s Gerudo makes a difference? Meh.

Anyway, they eventually end up in the Lost Woods because legend claims that the Master Sword is there. Link’s not about this place, naturally, but the pair goes in. They find a dungeon and both nearly die while screaming and holding each other because Zelda relies solely on her magic and Link is… a masseuse. But just as they’re about to be killed a man comes in and saves them. He escorts them out, alongside his trusty doggo, and bids them adieu despite Zelda asking him eighty thousand times who he is and if his name is Link.

Yeah, his name is Link. No, he won’t go on your awesome Quest To Save the World. He and doggo are happy in the Lost Woods, thanks. But Zelda is determined, and poor Masseuse Link gets dragged into her schemes to try and recruit Mystery Link. He’s a fighter and she can sense something about him too.

Long story short, Zelda has the Triforce of Power, Ganondorf Gerudo Link has the Triforce of Courage, and Actual Mystery Link has the Triforce of Wisdom. Zelda has to learn to become a better, more well rounded person to be able to wield all three pieces. Link the Masseuse has to learn to face his people’s past and his legacy. Link the Wanderer has to learn to love life again.

Anyway. Yeah.

#legend of zelda #Zelda is a feisty and chaotic gremlin who thinks that since has divine powers and a right to rule she knows everything #Ganondorf was always taught to keep a low profile and would rather disappear and just keep being a masseuse like his mom #Link has traveled far and wide and done many things for the sake of destiny and is frankly a little tired of it but certainly well learned #Zelda and Ganondorf together are absolutely chaotic and Link is the Burnt Out Hero who is dragged along for the ride #forsaken au

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iamatinydinosaur · 4 months

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🐾Branch🐾

Who Fell first

It was when the cook Bergen attacked the village. You heard the commotion from your pod. You ran to help but ended getting snatched with the other trolls who originally got snatched.

Branch didn't find out until Poppy came to ask him for help. He panicked knowing you had been captured. He packed way too much stuff. Poppy watched him panic and giggled. Branch spun around to look at her. "What?" He snapped. "I've never seen you so worried about someone. Branch do you like Y/N?" Poppy asked. Branch went wide eyed. Does he like you? By his silence and obvious analysing, Poppy knew the answer. She patted Branch on the back.

When Branch and Poppy found you and the other trolls trapped in the cage, Branch ran straight to you. "Branch!" You exclaimed reaching out for him. You two hugged through the bars of the cage. "Are you okay, are you hurt?" Branch asked placing a hand on your cheek. "I'm fine." You smiled leaning into his hand.

Who Fell harder

Your colors started to fade. You blamed yourself. If only you got to everyone quicker maybe this wouldn't have happened. Branch looked around the cooking pot. Everyone looked so defeated and started to lose their colors. He turned to you. It broke his heart. He slowly walked over.

"You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged"

Branch took your chin in his hand. You looked sadly up at him. You couldn't face him, you were ashamed. You turned away.

"oh I realize. It's hard to take courage In a world full of people. You can lose sight of it all. The darkness inside you. Can make you feel so small"

Your hug time bracelet went off. Branch opened his arms. You turned away.

"Show me a smile then. Don't be unhappy. Can't remember when. I last saw you laughing. This world makes you crazy. And you've taken. All you can bear. Just call me up. Cause I will always be there"

You started smiling. Branch smiled back, happy he was getting through to you. He

"And I see your true colors. Shining through."

You started to glow, your colors coming back.

"I see your true colors. And that's why I love you"

You turned to him. You smiled widely. He took your hands and started dancing, singing with you. The whole time he was staring into your eyes. He admired your features. Your eyes, smile, nose, the freckles that ran over from cheek to cheek and your lashes. As he danced with you his colors that were lost so long ago grew back. You gasped with how beautiful his colors are.

He loved you.

A/N: I feel weird not writing Poppy in this scene😭😭

#branch x reader #trolls #branch trolls #true colors

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holylulusworld · 10 days

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A gentle scent (2)

Summary: He’s your alpha now.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 4 – Sunday, April 17 - Submissive Alpha and/or Dominant Omega

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, late bloomer, dirty talk, cocky reader, needy Dean, Beta turns out to be alpha, true mates, possessive omega

Word Count:

Catch up here: A gentle scent

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

Eight months later, …

“She’s dead,” you growl low in your throat. “I will go over there and rip her throat out. Maybe I’ll make a nice puzzle out of her body parts.”

Sam inhales sharply. He already knows that you are very territorial when it comes to his brother, your mate, and newbie alpha. “Y/N, he only tries to get information from her. Dean would never cheat on you.”

You huff. “I trust Dean,” you roll your eyes at Sam’s comment. “This is about that woman putting her hand on my man’s bicep. She can scent me on him and still, that needy bitch touches what’s mine!”

“You’re a very possessive omega, huh?” Sam watches you clench and unclench your fists. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing.”

“Stay out of our relationship,” you snap at Sam. “I’m protective, not possessive. Dean presented not eight months ago. He’s not used to omegas being all over him, or how to tame his alpha. My alpha needs a strong hand and guidance.”

Sam snorts. He never took his brother for a sub. It seems that Dean trusts you enough to give up control and let you guide him.

“That’s it,” you push off the wall to stalk toward Dean and the witness. “Agent, Hetfield, you need to come to an end. We got a new lead.”

“Oh, sure,” Dean nods. Your scent got stronger, and he knows, you are about to attack the omega touching his arm. He didn’t think much about it. The hunter always used his good looks and charm to get information out of people. It’s different now that he’s mated.

You wrap your hand around Dean’s wrist and tug lightly. “If you’d excuse us now. Me and Agent Hetfield have more people to interrogate.”

“Maybe we can meet up later,” she dares to say. “I’m off work at five.” She batts her lashes and smiles at Dean.

“He’s mated,” you grit your teeth and glare at the woman. “Do you have no shame?”

Before you lose control you tug at Dean’s wrist again and guide him away from the woman and toward his brother.

Sam watches his brother follow you like a clueless puppy. He snickers, already knowing you are going to throw a tantrum back at the motel.

“Sweetheart, I’d never do such a thing. She touched my arm and I let her, to get her to talk to me. You know I only have eyes for you,” Dean whines when you throw your shoe against the wall.

You’re close to your pre-heat and angry at yourself for feeling the way you do. Dean would never cheat on you, you know that, but your omega can’t bear watching him near another woman.

“She touched you,” you wrinkle your nose. Even though you forced Dean to shower, you still smell her on him. “I can smell that bitch on you.”

“No, you can’t,” he murmurs, and steps closer to you. “I only want you, omega. You know that. No woman can compare to you. You took my knot virginity after all.” Dean grins now. “I hope you remember that you took it.”

“Of course, I remember that I turned a lost puppy into a feral wolf wanting to mate me anytime he gets the chance to do so,” you smirk and run your hand over his arm. “Now he’s a good alpha.”

“You helped me become a better man,” his features soften when you tilt your head in submission. You rarely give in to your nature and let Dean have control. “You know that I only want to put my knot inside of you, right?”

“I hope so,” you cup his crotch, lightly squeezing him through his pants. His cock twitches in interest, and you chuckle at his eagerness. “Because I only want your knot inside of me.”

“I hope so,” Dean mirrors your smirk. He tilts his head to expose his untouched mating gland to you. “How about you show every omega that I’m only yours…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #spnomegaverseweek2024 #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #alpha!dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader

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hausbabylon · 10 months

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treacherous

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 6,994

A/N: Hey! I received an anonymous request, but I accidentally deleted the draft where I directly responded it. The request said pretty much what says in the synopsis. Thanks to whoever sent it, made me happy <3! I hope you like it.

A/N II: Also, it’s 3:27 AM and I wrote this half asleep whilst listening Red TV three times in a row.

Warnings: Unspecified legal age gap (Natasha is older), mention of guns, manipulation, intrafamiliar abuse, trust issues.

Natasha Romanoff struggled with trust issues due to past relationships. Her fear of being hurt overshadowed any chance to open herself up to the possibility of a relationship. That was, of course, until she met you.

Hydra was a group of evil masterminds with a mission to take over the world, employing advanced technology and weapons to achieve said objective.

It hurt you too much to even think about the fact that you were part of it all, for ever since you were incredibly young, you were the victim of experiments and ruthless training to basically turn you into another of their deadly weapons.

You were just a little one, desperate to get your adoptive father's approval, and deep down, you still were, despite the fact that you were a young adult now. However, no matter how hard you tried, he always seemed disappointed in you, and you were willing to do anything to make him proud.

That's what you thought, of course, until you couldn't take it anymore. So much spilled blood, uncountable innocent lives lost, all in the name of greed and evil. You switched sides, and betrayed the organization you once called home.

You didn't know how many hours you spent hiding in one of the lockers from the Hydra facility that was attacked by the Avengers, while you listened to the tragedy happen outside this cold little compartment. You were supposed to be the main counter-attacker, and you were expected to kill at least one of them in order for the others to back off for a few months.

However, it was too much. As you fought them, the dilemma you found yourself in was too much to bear; you wanted to make your adoptive father proud, but you also wanted them to win because you repudiated every aspect that made up the twisted organization which you were unfortunately a part of.

So, as you walked down the corridors to attack one of them, you simply stopped dead in your tracks and went to hide instead. Until you heard nothing, only a silence that was somehow deafening, while intrigue kept eating you out - had good won over evil again?

When you kicked the door of the locker so you could get out, the first sight you encountered was the Black Widow, who got startled when she saw you and immediately pointed a gun at you. Your first instinct was to raise your arms.

Your face was streaked with tears, for you had sobbed desperately, fearing what your father would do when he found out you had failed this mission, but you were also drowning in shame for your actions.

And you didn't need to say anything, Natasha knew everything as soon as she saw you in that disconsolate and defeated state. You didn't want to do any of this, you desperately wanted to be good.

The Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and as you stood beside them, fighting for what was right, you finally felt you were part of a family, where your efforts were seen and appreciated, something you never felt with Hydra.

"I know these brutal injuries are a little bit of a scratch for you, but..."

"But it worries you when I go on missions that involve more than big men fighting me," Natasha finished the sentence before you could, a huge grin plastered from ear to ear.

You just chuckled, as you carefully worked to heal those terrible wounds on her face, product of a more complex mission than usual.

"Come on! Who knows if that creature that hurt you might give you some disease from the outer-space microbes it had in its claws. It could get infected and you could start a new pandemic, you know?" You half-joked.ñ

Natasha let out a loud laugh, that could be perhaps be heard all over facility.

"Well, look on the bright side, maybe I'll get to be the one to name it," she chuckled, and she flinched subsequently, her wounds hurt due to her smiling-facial expression.

"Silly!" You playfully nudged her shoulder with your fist, as you kept smiling enormously. "Jokes aside, please promise me you'll keep those wounds clean. You'll apply this," you showed her a small container of antiseptic soap, "And after that, you must apply this as well," you showed her a spray of alcohol.

She never told you this at first, but she appreciated enormously that you cared for her in this way, and that, on top of that, you were always willing to look after her as if she wasn't used to risking her life in all sorts of places.

The older woman nodded and laughed a little. "Of course, I'll make sure to clean the wounds and apply those, it's not too bad really. Don't worry yourself, okay?" She smiled kindly and warmly at you.

"Perfect... I'll let you off, then," you replied, with a grin. "Go get some rest, and I'll see you again when..." you paused. "I'll see you again," you affirmed this time.

You didn't know when you would see her again.

You had a very simple mission, so simple that you didn't need to go out and take risks as you normally did. You just needed to find information, leak some documents, hack into certain bases, and you could do it all from the comfort of the Avengers Tower. You were almost done when Natasha returned from her mission with the rest of the Avengers, and you insisted in helping her with all those wounds she had in her face, which again, were not something new for any of you, but still... you hated to see her even in the slightest discomfort. And just like on the other times, she refused to receive your help, but eventually gave in.

Outside of coincidences like these and the missions you had together, you didn't convive with her. And you missed her more than you could admit.

It was a strange feeling. You both got along well... excellent, to tell the truth, and you liked each other's company. However, that was no different than your relationship with the other Avengers, even so, Natasha Romanoff was the only one whose presence you longed more than usual whenever you were apart.

"Sure, I'll see you again," she nodded, as she rose from the seat she was in, and patted your shoulder affectionately.

This was always the way goodbyes were, and you couldn't lie, it hurt a little bit to realize that you didn't have a relationship with her outside of work. That was to be expected, many years of knowing her teammates didn't compare to a couple of months of knowing you, but you had to start somewhere, right?

That day, Natasha did as you told her and rested in her room of the Tower, and you, on the other hand, returned to the solitude of your apartment, watched a few episodes of your favorite series and waited to be summoned again on another occasion.

Said occasion was about a week later, and amidst the catastrophe that ensued, the taste of victory for having done well never ceased to leave you with a feeling of accomplishment.

It was even better than the others, since it was a mission against the organization you had unwillingly dedicated your life to serving. And this time, you were on the right side.

Your eyes watered a little. And Natasha didn't say it at first either, but she was the first to notice it because she used to watch you more than she would like to admit.

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" She asked you, turning to you with a concerned expression on her face. "Don't tell me you regretted joining us, because I'm going to hit you," she joked, and there you realized that was a habit of hers, for the purpose of lightening the mood.

And she succeeded, because you laughed, "Quite the opposite. I'm so happy to find myself on this side and to be able to make up even a little bit for all the bad I did," you confessed.

She let out a little 'Awww' and proceeded to hug you.

It felt like... like home. And maybe your home wasn't the kindest to you, so it was more like you found a new place where you could feel warm and comfortable.

It felt like a shelter from the world's harshness, and that you were at last somewhere you belonged. The embrace was gentle and firm at the same time, somehow it was a combination that could go well altogether, and it was as if every little thing that had ever hurt you was washed away by the love in that hug.

She stayed that way for as long as you needed. And later, at the Avengers Tower, everyone asked you if you were all right, and when they made sure you were calmer, they left to their respective rooms, but not before giving you words of affirmation telling you how valuable you were and what a priceless job you had done on the mission.

And after that little moment of closeness you had with Natasha, two days passed when you saw her again.

You were not specifically summoned for a mission, rather, Tony Stark needed your help to develop a new artificial intelligence prototype that would assist Peter Parker. The only difference was that Tony wanted her to ask him about his feelings and get concerned for his well-being, almost like a therapist or a mother would.

There had been maybe four or five opportunities where you had the pleasure of demonstrating your mental abilities, which were numerous.

Of course at Hydra they weren't going to raise you to be physically astute, they needed to train you mentally as well, and sure as hell they did. Because, maybe it would take Tony Stark more than four or five tasks to trust someone, but you completed them so efficiently, that very little was enough for him to be impressed and take you into consideration for this field as well.

About seven hours had passed, where you were discussing and employing the famous "trial and error", when Natasha came to interrupt. Tony wasn't too happy about it, but you were delighted.

"It turned out like shit," she concluded. She had a little dirt on her suit and her face was scarred with small injuries, but these weren't man-made, they were more like falls. "The target had already left the base by the time we got there, and took everything. All we did was kill the guards for nothing, no objective."

Tony took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. For him, if there was anything worse than interruptions, it was interruptions for bad news.

"That's the third time in a row they've had us looking like idiots playing Tag," he snorted. "We'll figure out what to do. We did what we could."

Natasha was not at all pleased with his answer, as she wanted an immediate solution, and for her, the worst thing that could happen was to fail in something as simple as attacking a Hydra base.

"That's it?" She exclaimed, and at Tony's lack of response, she let out a groan and with giant strides, she left the room.

You ran after her, caring very little if she yelled at you to leave her alone. You wanted to at least make an attempt to be there for her.

"Nat!" You called out to her. "Nat, come on!"

She stopped, and turned to look at you, "What do you want?"

Now thar you were close to her, you noticed how fresh the small wounds on her face looked, and you would soon set out to help her with that, but the support she needed the most was the emotional kind.

"There's this place near Willow Lake," you laughed at her mild surprise. "I know, it's a bit far from here, but we can grab a bite to eat, take a walk down to the lake afterwards... you don't have to talk if you don't want to, I just want to offer you this little method of escape that has helped me in my darkest days."

There was no power on earth that would make her turn down such an offer, not only because this would be the first time she would be spending time with you outside of missions and work, but because it really sounded like a plan that would help her tremendously in all that stress she was going through.

After Natasha took a shower and changed, she went to find you in the room where you were working with Tony, who gave you a grateful smile before you left.

The drive there was long, and neither of you said much more than small talk, but it was extremely comfortable at the same time, with Taylor Swift's music playing on the car's speakers.

With this alone, she seemed more relaxed as she remained in the passenger seat. It was clear that the unsuccessful mission was eating her mind, but by having a moment to think about it, she gradually lightened up. She was very grateful that you gave her space and didn't try to distract her.

As soon as you guys got out of the car, the first thing you could feel was how pure the air was in that area, and how uncrowded it was compared to the noisy city. With that alone, Natasha understood why you brought her there, it was a peaceful and perfect place to think.

"Do you like it?" You asked, and if the redhead hadn't been too invested taking in her surroundings, she would have noticed that you were in turn, completely dumbfounded watching her..

"I love it," she nodded, with a huge smile, and proceeded to close her eyes and take a deep breath to enjoy the air.

When you entered the small cafe, you ordered a panini and a soda, and encouraged Natasha to order whatever she wanted, it would be your treat. Neither of you had eaten and it was already four in the afternoon, so you couldn't wait for the food to arrive.

You didn't ask her anything about it, and you didn't bring the subject up, you just waited patiently for her to speak first. And she did so about five minutes after she ordered.

"I feel better already," she said. "Maybe Tony's approach wasn't the best, but he's right, we'll find a way, in the meantime, we did what we could."

You smiled.

"We'll find a way to come out of this victoriously. Believe me when I tell you that they no longer have any threats and all they have left is to run. We'll find a way to corner them," you encouraged her, almost sensing firsthand how frustrated she might have felt earlier.

She nodded in agreement, "We have to come up with a plan," she replied. "I've already given a lot of thought to it, and I think right now, what I want to do is enjoy this moment with you, because, you do realize this is our first outing together?"

You did realize, and you couldn't begin to express how much you looked forward to this moment. While the conversations during missions or at the Tower were enough for you to grow fond of each other, there was always work involved.

"You're right. I wouldn't have wanted to wait this long, but I understand you're busy, and, I wasn't sure if you were in the mood to go out during your rest time."

She chuckled at the comment, "Oh, no! I like going out. And look, maybe I am busy, but you might just be worth dropping everything for... you know, once in a while!"

You reacted with a small and subtle giggle, feeling even more charmed and flattered by her.

"I must say, it's an honor to potentially be worth dropping everything for, even once in a while," you responded lightheartedly.

The food arrived just in time, and you both exchanged a look of acknowledgement at how good it looked.

"Well, bon appétit," she smiled, and didn't wait five seconds to start devouring her lunch.

You both ate in silence, very focused on enjoying the food as it was already too late after the regular lunch hour. You were starving.

When you finished your meal, you talked about banal topics to get to know each other better, such as favorite books, movies and series, hobbies, the music you enjoyed the most and whether you preferred summer or winter. It was a nice chat, where you both found a lot of common ground and were introduced to new possibilities, because let's say you left that restaurant with at least twenty songs to listen to, ten books to read and five movies and series to check out.

It was until you left the restaurant and walked to the lake that the conversation deepened. She asked you about your past, and although you didn't spill those details so easily, you ended up telling her even more than your closest friends knew. Natasha was just that kind of person.

And when Natasha shared her story with you, that was the most painful, deepest and perhaps most precious aspect that you shared — that intrinsic feeling that impelled you to abandon all evil sown in your hearts.

You were so immersed in conversation, that it seemed like in five minutes the sky went dark when in reality it had been about three hours straight.

From then on, whenever your free times coincided, you made the most of it. You made it a regular part of your lives, would always make plans for upcoming meet-ups and, naturally, your relationship slowly started to grow and deepen over time as a result.

You started to appreciate the little details that shaped Natasha, from her stunning smile to her sweet laugh, from her thoughtful glances to her kind words. It was like a flame had been lit inside of you, eventually growing into a roaring blaze that could not be tamed. You were slowly and deeply falling in love with her, there was no denying it anymore.

"Nat, I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do, but you leave me no choice," you said, as soon as you pulled a +4 card as a last resource. Your only cards remaining were two red ones and of course you would decide said color as the next.

Natasha let out a gasp of surprise, and shook her head.

"How could you?" She exclaimed, and with much indignation, took the four cards.

"I choose red," you stated, very indifferent to her reaction.

She checked the cards she had taken, and the red card she placed, was one that would prevent you from your turn, and then, she placed a red one with a number on it.

With a victorious smile, you shouted "UNO" as you placed the second to last card you had left. And to your bad luck, Natasha didn't have one of the same color, but she did have a blue one with the same number.

"Excuse me, you were saying?" She replied, in a mocking tone.

It was your turn to gasp in surprise.

"Natalia, you monster!" You exclaimed. "My devious scheme has been disrupted, and I have been bested. I expected this from everyone, but you?" You said in an over-dramatic tone, placing your hands on your chest, as if you had been stabbed.

You two were cross-legged playing UNO on Natasha's bed, having watched a couple of movies and ordered food. You had been playing for maybe an hour and a half now, and this last round was no different than the previous ones, since you were always looking for ways to trick and betray each other in this little game. Until, Natasha finally won.

"Ahhh! This was a tough one!" You commented, collecting the cards from the pile and sorting them. As you were doing this, you noticed something under Natasha's leg, sticking out slightly. "But of course, it was honest play, wasn't it? It would be a shame if you cheated."

She snorted, "Yes, honesty first and foremost, I agree," she acted innocent. You did your best to hold your laughter.

"Hey, since you're closer, would you mind getting up and handing me my phone?" You pointed to your phone, which was charging in her bedside table.

"You get up, lazy!" She teased, making you gasp in surprise.

"Well, I may be lazy, but I'm no cheater!" You exclaimed, pointing to the card under her leg.

"Oh, whaaaaat?! How did this even get here?!" She said, making her voice a little higher pitched and feigning surprise.

You couldn't help it and laughed loudly.

"Oh, come on, Nat!" You answered. "We're resuming this game, now!"

Luckily, you caught on to her trick before you rearranged the cards, and you hadn't yet touched hers and yours.

"Give me that card," you ordered her, and at that, she didn't let you have it and kept moving the card just out of your reach.

You suddenly realized you've leaned forward to try and grab at the card, and you accidentally ended up on top of her, with her lying on her back underneath you.

The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you exchanging a few shy looks and smiles, acknowledging the position you were in, feeling a little nervous and uncertain about it.

The pounding of your heart was racing a million beats per second, its rhythm matching the rapid pace of your thoughts. Your cheeks flushed with warmth whilst you embraced the profound effect she had on you.

And after a while, you summoned all your courage and made the first move. You leaned in, closing the distance between you and Natasha. In that intimate moment, your lips gently met hers, softly and tenderly.

However, the thrill of the moment was replaced with confusion and disappointment when Natasha pulled away.

"I can't," her words hung in the air.

You reluctantly drew back, giving her the space she needed, and you searched her eyes, longing to find the reason behind her hesitance, but all you could see was a glimpse of regret and shame.

It was as if she carried a secret, a secret that prevented her from fully embracing the moment, despite the chemistry you thought there was between you both. Or maybe you got lost in translation, maybe she simply didn’t share your feelings.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, your voice breaking. "I didn't mean to overstep. I misunderstood."

"Please, just go," Natasha's expression remained resolute.

Her words felt like a cold-hearted stab in your chest, leaving you at a loss for what to say or do. Nevertheless, you decided to respect her boundaries, honoring her wish to be left alone.

With a heavy heart, you nodded, gathering your things. Subsequently, you whispered another "I’m sorry" as you started to walk away.

The taste of that stolen kiss lingered on your lips for a long time, as a reminder of the brief, tantalizing ephemeral glance of something that could have been.

In the meantime, you only hoped that someday, the circumstances would align, allowing both of you to talk it out and move on.

That happened when you were contacted for another mission. With the help of the advanced technology and scientific knowledge that the Tower counted with, everyone contributed to analyze the data collected.

Each member expressed their concerns, ideas and proposals for the next step to take. Natasha, in particular, treated you with incredible disdain and professionalism, leaving everyone around you surprised. It was as if she created a barrier between you both, as if she barely recognized your presence now. There was no trace of shame or shyness on her face, unlike you, who struggled to even hold eye contact with her.

Finally, the meeting concluded. As the team prepared to disperse, the opportunity to talk to Natasha presented itself. The others began to head out, leaving the two of you alone in the room. This was the moment you had been waiting for.

"Nat, can we talk?" You gently drew her attention as she evaluated the information presented in the screens.

She turned to look at you, and then nodded. It was a small gesture, but it gave you the reassurance you needed to proceed.

"I… just want to apologize," you began. "For what happened before, for misunderstanding and crossing a line that should’ve never been. I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

Her gaze softened, and she sighed, "It's not entirely your fault," she reassured you. "I should have been clearer. It's just… I have a lot of conflicts in my mind, it’s complicated."

You nodded, understanding that there was more to her story than you were told, "I want you to know that I treasure our connection, whatever it may be," you confessed, your sincerity present in every single world. "And if there's anything you're willing to share, I'm here to listen."

There was a brief pause as Natasha contemplated her response, but as the minutes passed, she felt more and more comfortable with sharing her past experiences with relationships, and how they caused her to struggle with trust issues.

"Nat, I’m going to be honest, I can't erase the mistakes of others, but I swear to you, I'm not here for just a fleeting encounter. And I’m willing to earn your trust, if you give me the opportunity."

"It's hard for me to believe that," she admitted. "But at the same time, there's something about you that makes me want to give you that opportunity, despite my reservations. It’s complicated, as I said."

In that precious moment, your feelings swirled together - joy, relief, and gratitude. You had been given a chance, an opportunity to show Natasha that your love for her could prevail over the scars of the past.

Ever since, every date you planned with her was a thoughtful gesture, meticulously adapted to her preferences as you were eager to give your best to create cherished memories. From intimate dinners at her favorite restaurants to adventurous outings exploring new places, your attention to the small details that made her happy did not go unnoticed, because she appreciated the genuine effort you put into making her feel seen and loved. She also appreciated that you never pressed her for more than she was ready to give.

You provided a safe space where she could open up at her own pace. Naturally, time went on, and Natasha began to let her guard down in your presence.

Until, one —ironically— rainy night, your phone buzzed discreetly. You glanced down and read the words from your adoptive father, that were capable of disturbing your peace within seconds…

"I hope our deal still stands, and that you didn't actually move to the Avengers' side."

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha could perfectly read the message, her expression shifting from serenity to one of concern and anger. In an instant, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Time slowed as Natasha's eyes found yours, and the depth of her pain and distrust pierced through every fiber of your being. The delicate thread of trust that had been formed between you threatened to break under the weight of betrayal.

"What is this, (Y/N)?" She asked as her voice trembled. "Have you been playing both sides all along?!"

Before you could even respond, Natasha's eyes glazed over and she proceeded to rise abruptly from her seat to leave the restaurant where you were having dinner. Little did you care and you placed a hundred dollar bill that would cover both of your consumption plus a generous tip.

Afterwards, you ran out of the place to follow her. The first thing you felt was an overwhelming cold and the rain soaking you.

"Nat, please believe me," you pleaded. "I never wanted any of this. My loyalty lies with you and the Avengers."

"Yes, yes. I've heard that story a thousand times, and I didn't like the ending," she replied.

"Nat...—"

"I don't want to hear you!" She shouted suddenly, startling you. "You expect me to believe your empty words? I thought you were different, but I see now that you're just like everyone… no, you’re worst, way worst."

The rain that drenched you seemed insignificant compared to the icy chill that her words settled within you, making the ache in your chest unbereable.

"No, Nat, please," you begged desperately, your voice being interrupted by occasional sobs. "Let’s get inside and talk, I’ll explain you everything. I love you."

She shuddered as if your words had hurt her even more. The pain in her eyes reflected the storm that ravaged her soul.

"Love? Is that what you call it?" Her voice exuded bitterness as she lashed out, determined to protect herself from further pain. "You have a funny way of showing it. Actions speak louder than empty declarations."

Her words crushed you completely, as the rain mixed with your tears.

As Natasha turned, her silhouette blurred by the rain, you eventually felt too weak to even be standing, and you kneeled in the pavement, feeling your entire body twist in pain and regret.

"Natasha, my love, please don't leave," you sobbed. "Nat… don’t leave,” you whispered this time.

But she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness and the pouring rain. And you were right where she left you drenched and devastated, unable to understand how everything could fall apart so quickly.

Your mission as an infiltrator within the Avengers was the following: to steal a valuable possession and to disrupt their missions, weakening their defenses and providing Hydra a strategic advantage.

You proposed to your adoptive father the tip of the iceberg of your original plan. You told him you would deceive everyone, in order to gain their trust and position yourself as Hydra's eyes within the mighty Avengers' Tower.

However, your true motives remained hidden. Little did he know that you yearned for a chance to redeem yourself from the shadows of your past. You genuinely wanted to make a connection with the Avengers, to join their ranks and fight for the greater good.

At first, you walked a tightrope, subtly sabotaging the Avengers' efforts against Hydra to maintain your adoptive father's trust, so he would not proceed against you or your teammates. But as time went on, you stopped even doing that, and instead, made excuses to prevent suspicion that you didn't align with Hydra's twisted ideals. And that message he sent you during your date with Natasha couldn't have been more inopportune.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of loneliness suffocated any hint of hope that remained, because as expected, you heard nothing from Natasha, or any of the Avengers for that matter. All those friendships, laughs, trust… shattered into a thousand pieces by a message that didn't represent you at all.

You even began to consider packing your belongings and escape to another country to start from scratch. Your stupid choices held you captive, and the desire to break free consumed you.

In the midst of this overwhelming despair, you received a message from your adoptive father.

"Fine, if that’s how you want to play, then so be it. If you don't bring something valuable to us TODAY, she will suffer. We have her."

The message cut through your being like a searing blade, slashing through the delicate fabric of your soul. There was no hiding what you have done, and a life was held hostage, a life intertwined with your own.

As if the threat wasn't enough, he continued…

"Also, if you call the Avengers, we'll know, and she'll die painfully before they even get there. Steal something like I raised you to do. No tricks this time."

You felt the air rushing out from your lungs, as fear gripped your heart mercilessly. The mere thought of your beloved enduring torment struck you with agony, and there was no doubt that you would protect her at all costs.

In the midst of your despair, a plan began to take shape. You would infiltrate into the Avengers' Tower and steal the highly advanced AI system you and Tony initially designed for Peter Parker.

It seemed like the perfect key to Natasha’s safety, and to meet your adoptive father’s demands. Hydra's capabilities would be significantly amplified with it.

Your exile also translated into losing access to everything you used to come and go. In consequence, using your years of training, reflected through skills and expertise, you successfully manipulated the electronic locks and bypassed the intricate security measures.

Finally, you stood before the AI, and with a steady hand, you carefully detached the system, making sure not to leave a trace of your presence. The stolen AI system nestled securely in your possession, and therefore, Natasha would be safe and sound in no time.

You headed to the place you were ordered to, and it was conveniently apart from the city, being a former abandoned factory.

You knew that Natasha was extremely dangerous and strong, therefore you couldn't stop thinking of the position she must have been in so that they managed to get her with no problem.

Once there, you took the suitcase containing AI Karen's chip and made your way towards the meeting point. You noticed that there were about ten guards guarding the area, and one of them checked if you didn't have a weapon.

As soon as the door slightly opened, you kicked it hard and entered the place.

You saw Natasha immobilized with smart handcuffs restraining on her wrists and ankles, but when you ran towards her, you were stopped by the man you most repudiated on the face of this earth.

"Hey, easy," he said mockingly. "Let's talk business."

Your eyes glazed over, as you felt your heart ache at the sight in front of you. There was nothing you wanted more than to hug her and reassure her that you would do everything in your power to save her. But in order to accomplish that, you had to obey what was being asked of you.

"This is what I got," you began after letting out a long sigh. "It is similar to the artificial intelligence that Tony Stark has in his suit, and I participated in its development," you continued. "It has various databases and security protocols that would facilitate the acquisition of classified information, allowing Hydra to infiltrate sensitive networks and manipulate events to suit its agenda. It can also analyze patterns, anticipate trends, and adjust strategies accordingly. It would make an incredible asset for global domination."

After giving him a quick demonstration, your adoptive father smiled wickedly and patted your shoulder.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you," he exclaimed, and perhaps your self of many years ago would have rejoiced at those words, but now that you knew the price you had to pay to hear those words, you realize that they are not worth all the suffering, and never were.

"Let Natasha Romanoff go, father," you commanded with your jaw clenched.

His laughter echoed through the dimly lit factory. His eyes bore into yours, devoid of any warmth or compassion, as he reveled in his victory.

"Let her go," he scoffed, his voice filled with disdain. "Why would I release her when I finally have you exactly where I want you?"

A surge of anger coursed through you, fueling a fire that burned fiercely within your chest.

"No," you declared firmly. "You should know by now that Natasha means more to me than any twisted ideology you spew."

Your adoptive father's eyes burned with fury. In that moment, you realized that your defiance had destroyed his illusion of control.

"After everything I have done for you? Don't you see? This is your purpose, your destiny!" He countered.

"That’s your purpose for me, as your puppet," you corrected. "My purpose is not to spread chaos and destruction. It's to protect the people I love and make amends for the wrongs I've done. And guess what? That’s what I’m doing."

"Ah, so the great (Y/N) has grown soft and weak in the arms of Natasha. I knew allowing emotions into your heart would be your downfall," he sneered, with an air of disappointment. "You were meant to be a weapon in our hands, an asset for the future of this organization," he added.

"… and I would rather be 'soft' in the eyes of Hydra than hardened and devoid of humanity like you," you stated. "I may have been created by Hydra, but I am not defined by them. I choose my own path, and it's one that leads away from your darkness."

He took a deep breath, characteristic of when he already lost his patience. You knew it so well, and it never failed to frighten you.

He stepped closer, his menacing presence closing in around you, "I raised you to be better, so you have one last chance," he hissed, handing you a gun. "You end Natasha Romanoff's life, or I will do it myself. And trust me, my methods are far more agonizing than a quick death."

You trembled, feeling your heart suffocating, your mind finding its way of reminding you of the laughter you shared, the tender moments, the unbreakable bond between you and Natasha. But at the same time, you knew what your adoptive father was capable of, and it filled you with dread.

There were no other options, no escape from the cruel fate that awaited her if you refused. With tears welling in your eyes, you whispered your surrender. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Natasha heard the words escape your trembling lips, her eyes widened in disbelief, and her features contorted in a mixture of shock and heartbreak.

The knot in your stomach tightened, constricting your breath and making it difficult to think clearly. Your palms grew clammy, sweat trickling down your forehead as your heart pounded in your chest.

You cautiously approached Natasha. Every step felt like an eternity, the deafening thud echoing in your ears. When you were close enough, you saw the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, her muscles straining against the unyielding bonds that sought to confine her. It was a testament to her resilience, her unyielding spirit that refused to be broken.

In the end, this was you, a deadly weapon raised to make these kinds of actions. What was one more kill? Your entire life had been shaped by the manipulations and training of your adoptive father, molding you into a merciless instrument of his will and the will of the company he worked for.

You raised the gun, as the metal felt cold and unforgiving in your sweaty hands. And then, as if guided by an invisible force, your finger began to tighten around the trigger.

You made the last choice, the choice that would determine the path of your future and, ultimately, save both yourself and Natasha. There was no other way out.

With a determination that burned bright within you, you aimed at your objective. So, when your finger curled around the trigger, a deafening shotgun erupted in the room, shattering the suffocating silence.

In that instant, your adoptive father's body crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated. His presence, once so menacing and dominant, now lay broken, a mere shadow of the authority he once commanded.

Natasha's body jerked in a sudden startle when she heard the shotgun, and her eyes clenched shut, as if shielding herself from the inevitable horror that awaited her. Every muscle in her body tensed, bracing for the impact, but then, a familiar voice made itself present.

"Open your eyes, darling, it's over," you uttered, your voice trembling with the shock of what had just transpired.

Slowly, Natasha's eyes fluttered open. The room came into focus, and as her gaze fell upon you, the realization of what you did hit her immediately.

You then reached for the small monitor that was in your adoptive father’s pocket and unlocked the restraints that held Natasha captive. She carefully removed the tape on her mouth.

Her eyes glistened with shed tears as she threw herself into your arms, her body trembling against yours. The resentment and doubt she once had towards you seemed to dissolve in that moment whilst she held onto you as if her life depended on it.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered, her voice choked with tears and vulnerability.

You held her tightly, your own emotions spilling all over, "I'm here, Nat. This is me. This has always been me."

Her lips trembled, and she pressed them against yours, and in that single, stolen moment, the world around you ceased to exist. Time stood still as your lips met, fueled by a yearning that transcended mere physical desire. It was a fusion of souls, a merging of two hearts that had endured unimaginable pain and now reveled in the sweet taste of redemption.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses.

"I love you too," you murmured, and how unmatched was the feeling of being able to say it when there was no hint of uncertainty on the other side. "And as long as you allow me, I will do my best to keep showing it to you."

After securing the AI and taking down all the guards that prowled the place, you both emerged from the abandoned factory. Although the scars of the event would forever mark your souls, you knew that you had emerged stronger than ever.

Together, you would forge a new path, rewriting the narratives that had threatened to tear you apart, and embracing the love that had always been destined to bring you back together.

This was the accomplished mission that you both were most proud of. Especially because, in addition to having shared years of experiences, adventures, and everlasting memories, it was only a matter of time before you also shared the "Romanoff" last name.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #scarlett johansson #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel

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sempersirens · 8 months

Text

sun bleached flies | five

masterlist

chapter summary: back to reader's pov, joel is issued a firmer warning, and old vices are revisited

warnings: 18+, mdni. previous dark!joel/raider!joel. angst. threat. violence. panic attack. mention of ptsd/nightmares. lotsa swearing. alcoholism/drug overdose. suicidal ideation.

a/n: i half proof-read this but editing was turning me inside out so i called it a day and pushed post. pls forgive me. love u all

You'd be lying if you pretended that the sight of Joel breaking down on your front porch didn't tug both sides of your mouth into an uncharacteristically sadistic smile.

Big, scary Joel Miller. The man who put the fear of God in most of Jackson's residents each and every day. He was a ghost story in this town; rumours of his past life were exchanged in low voices, whispers gliding through pools of beer at the Tipsy Bison after dark.

He had been a ghost to you, too. An intangible apparition that left you feeling like a little girl afraid of the dark.

But here he was, on your doorstep, sobs racking through his body and tears falling from his eyes.

He looked pathetic. Powerless.

You had an overwhelming urge to touch him as he wept. To place a hand on his upper arm or rake your fingers through his hair and pull, pull, pull. To ground yourself in the moment, to prove to yourself this was real. Your fingertips swelled with power. The feeling was electric; you momentarily understood how men like him became infatuated with the sensation.

You'd grown to realise that men didn't like it very much when they were faced with facts of their wrongdoings. You had seen it first in your father. How he would attempt to convince you, and himself, that he was a good man. That he had tried everything to bring your mother back from the pit she called home, but that she was too stubborn. That it was her decision to crawl further and further into the darkness.

It was interesting, to you at least, how your father had slowly managed to believe his own lie. You had watched as he'd wiped his slate clean and moulded a new identity that only existed in words, not actions.

You looked on as Joel did the same. You watched him come undone, clinging onto the wooden railing for support, assuming the same stance as when you'd confirmed his suspicions about Mia's parentage.

It felt like watching a predator behind five layers of glass at the zoo. You couldn't help but stare at his insides mangling his body; his knuckles white against the railing, shoulders rigid against his neck, jaw clenched and throat humming with gulps of air between sobs. It looked unnatural, like seeing a polar bear sprawled against a cold rock on a summer's day in Georgia.

Repeatedly turning up here, at your home, was one thing. But to demand a right to see your daughter? His unrelenting audacity was astounding; it was the self-confidence only a man who had lied to himself over and over could pull off.

"I need you to quieten down, Joel. I have neighbours." You warned in a harsh whisper, afraid of providing Jackon with a buzz of gossip tomorrow morning.

You pulled him by the arm and dragged him inside to ensure his attention. Pinning him against the front door, taking a second to commend your own strength knowing he could put you on your ass in seconds, you pressed the blade from your back pocket against the base of his throat.

"You make a single move toward those stairs or do anything to wake my daughter, I will gut you. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." He choked in response.

You released your weight from him, finally realising just how big he actually was. He towered over you, his broad shoulders eclipsing the entire width of the doorframe. You wondered if he had stayed beneath your grip solely for your benefit.

"Sit down." You gestured toward the sofa, pacing back and forth as he obeyed.

"M'a good father, y'know." He hiccuped, face buried in his hands.

"I'm sure your Father of the Year award got lost in the mail." You retorted under your breath.

"I may not be a good man, but I've always been a good father. Took down all those Fireflies for Ellie. But now she don't wanna talk to me, she don't even look at me most days."

You weren't entirely listening as he mumbled into the palm of his hands, his body still jolting from time to time with poorly contained sobs.

"Well what did you do to piss her off?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Look, Joel. As much as I love our little heart to hearts, you nee-"

"Mommy?" You hadn't noticed Mia come into the room. Your muscles froze.

"Hey, sweetheart. Couldn't sleep?"

"I heard voices." She rubbed her eyes with little fists.

"I'm sorry we woke you little bird, let me come and tuck you back in."

You moved protectively toward Mia, herding her away from Joel like a shepherd at the sight of a fox in the distance of his flock.

"You were at my birthday party." Mia croaked, peaking around your legs to look at Joel.

He'd straightened his posture as soon as Mia's small voice had startled you both, and now he was leant forward ever so slightly.

There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on reflecting in his eyes. The effects of half a bottle of whiskey, most likely.

"Yes, I was, little lady. Did you have fun?"

"Okay, that's enough, le-" you tried to catch her before she slipped through the gap in your legs.

"Yes, thank you. But the other little girl ate the last of my cake."

Joel chuckled, resting his elbows on his knees with his fingers intertwined.

"That'll be my Ellie. You'll have to forgive her, she ain't had cake in a real long time."

You quickly caught the tear threatening to fall down your cheek.

Seeing the two of them connecting so effortlessly felt like driving past a car crash. You didn't want to look, you wanted to grab Mia in your arms and run as far away as possible, but you couldn't help but stand and stare.

All of their similarities, the quirks and characteristics you could never place in your own daughter suddenly lined up.

The way she looked through her eyelashes with those big brown doe eyes, the slight hook of her nose that you had come to terms with belonging to a stranger.

It was a haunting collision of where you'd come from and where you were headed, your past and future hanging before you with fingers and toes of their own. The man who had made you wish you could tear at your skin until there was nothing left, and the girl who gave you the needle to sew yourself back together. All you could do was stand and watch.

"That's enough, now. Upstairs to bed, Mia." You choked out, placing your body in between her and Joel as if it could stop the same blood from running through them both.

You ushered Mia up the stairs, tucking her into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, you placed a hand on her cheek and spoke in a low whisper.

"Mia, my love. If you ever see that man in town and I'm not with you, you are not to speak to him. Do you understand?"

"Is he bad?" She whispered in response.

"He's sick, baby. He was outside and alone for a very long time. I just really need you to promise me you'll stay away from him."

"Is he infected?" Her big eyes searched yours for an answer.

"No, sweetheart. It's his mind that's sick."

"Can I get it? The thing that makes him sick?"

"Never. You have honey running through your veins, little bird." You smoothed her hair down, placing a small kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"Okay, mommy. I promise."

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning."

She pulled the duvet up to her chin, her eyes fluttering softly shut. You closed her bedroom door and made your way back down the stairs to Joel lingering by the front door. His hands were crumpled in his jeans pockets, eyes concentrating on the wooden floor.

You thought he was about to say something, but rather than hear him out any longer you swatted your palm flat against his chin with all the force you could muster. As the back of his head hit the door with a thud, you connected your knee with his crotch, bringing your face down to his as he doubled over with a groan.

"You must've misheard me before. Pull this shit again and I'll make sure no woman has to suffer the misfortune of putting up with you, daddy of the year, ever again."

Feeling around the side of his dangling body, you turned the doorknob and let him stumble backwards into the night.

━━━━━━━━

"We still on for tonight?" Greg pressed about an hour into your morning patrol.

You'd wondered when the dreaded topic of drinks was going to rear its ugly head. In all honesty, you were far too tired from your poor night's sleep to do anything after patrol, but you were equally too tired to argue.

One drink wouldn't hurt, you told yourself. Hell, you might even manage a full night's sleep with the help of a glass of red.

"Sure. Tommy and Maria pick Mia up from school on Tuesdays, anyway."

"Great, I'll swing by yours around 8?"

"No, that's okay. I'll meet you at the Bison."

Hesitant to host yet another unwanted guest, you attempted to put as much distance between him and your home as possible.

You weren't a particularly antagonistic woman, but knowing Joel had arrived at your front door last night just short of a suit of armour boasting about how he just couldn't stand to hear you spoken about in such a way almost spurred you on to see through your plans with Greg. Joel's southern drawl, which wasn't really all that charming, coated each syllable that fell from his mouth with a sickly, lazed attempt at chivalry. Sometimes you thought he dropped half a word simply to conceal the rot in his chest.

Let him disapprove, you thought, remind him of his place: out of your business. Out of your life.

"Won't believe who I had a run-in with last night at the Bison. Tommy's big brother, Joe?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Don't play coy, Greg. You know his name is Joel."

"Whatever. He's fuckin' nuts. Smashin' his glass around, stormin' out in a damn tantrum like he ran the place."

"That so? What did you say to antagonise him?"

"You think I'm such a troublemaker, huh?" You quietly thanked god that you were riding ahead of Greg, or you're sure you would've caught a stomach-turning glint in his eye at the insinuation you actually thought about him, ever.

As the afternoon meandered into dusk, you wondered how in hell you were going to cope with a double shift of Greg. The leftover bottle of wine from Mia's birthday flickered in your subconscious. A scene played out in your mind of Maria smelling the sweetness on your breath, backing you into a corner and locking eyes with you the way only she could manage.

You hadn't drunk alone since what Maria had coined the incident; you were surprised at her absent-mindedness in leaving the bottle behind in the first place.

Maybe she was testing you.

Perhaps she had undertaken a quiet hypothesis crafted between her and Tommy, one whispered between pillows after the lights went out.

Let's see how long it takes for her to break.

Dr. Lee's voice rang in your ears. Love is conditional and unconditional. He had said. You are not always walking a tightrope - sometimes you are simply walking. Most often, you felt like the rope.

You had watched your mother's descent into paranoia, only a couple of months before she opted for opioids instead. Maybe that was your destiny; a bottle-shaped grave with the fingers you slipped through muddying your favourite dress with handfuls of dirt.

Soon enough, you and Greg were pulling yourselves from your saddles, exchanging pleasantries and specifics about meeting later on. You found yourself on autopilot, calculating the quickest route home to swallow down whatever feeling was clawing at your throat.

Maybe you were imagining it, but your front porch seemed to linger with Joel's presence. Approaching your door, you could see the ghost of his shape leaning against the wooden railing, you could still smell the musk of his skin, hear the thud of his body hitting the door. The latter made you smile at least.

On the other side of the door sat that stillness you had to fight to not let swallow you. You could never adjust to the emptiness that tried so hard to engulf you, so instead, you sought to destroy it.

An hour passed. Relaxing into the familiar warmth finally seeping through your skin, you caught your reflection passing the mirror on the way out and smiled. Lips stained and teeth bared. You tipped your chin to the sky and searched the ceiling for any hint of a higher being.

"Jesus, if you're there, make this quick." You spoke to the peeling wallpaper.

━━━━━━━━

Maybe nobody was listening.

You had decided it was easier to surrender to Greg's ego, accepting that he in fact had no interest in conversing with you, but talking at you.

You tried not to dwell on the fact that you hadn't uttered more than a couple of words in the past hour, but he seemed content with that.

One thing Greg was good for was his willingness to keep your glass full. His stories eventually all merged in to one, you didn't care to differentiate the names or places.

You hated his mouth. The way words shaped his lips, the strings of saliva stretching from his tongue to teeth as he boasted about how many infected he had cleared a couple of months ago.

"I was supposed to be patrolling more dangerous locations, but Maria wanted someone more senior on the perimeter." He lied.

Before you could endure any more of his heroism, Tommy came barging through the door, his face flushed but simultaneously sickly pale. He only needed to call your name once before you were on your feet, jogging toward him. You hoped he mistook your stumbling for urgency.

“Tommy?” You attempted to keep your breathing regulated.

His response floated in the air around you, never truly sinking in until the words Mia and some kinda allergic reaction fell from his mouth.

You clutched your stomach, unsure if the liquor was finally catching up with you or if your gut knew something you couldn't bring yourself to process. Tommy called your name, underestimating your speed powered by instinct, an invisible string tying you to her, tugging, tugging, tugging.

"I'm coming," you breathed, words disappearing as quickly as they'd formed. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

Maria and Tommy's front door was wide open, scurrying bodies illuminated in the rectangular light running to and fro.

You squeezed your eyes tight, for just a second.

"Please." You begged.

Is anybody still listening?

taglist: apparently my tags don't always work so fingers crossed these come thru? sorry if i forgot anybody - if you want to be added/removed please lmk! @warm-tea-and-otp @mrsquill @ashleymsnodgrass @bluetattoos @mabermaple @hiroikegawa @casssiopeia @joeldjarin @southernbe @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @cool-iguana @drewharrisonwriter @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @randomhoex @ilovepedro @koshkaj-blog @ejuliet999 @love-the-abyss @jellybeanxc @mabermaple @radsanchez @powellssaturn @ok-boke @phoebe13 @ahintofkiwistrawberry @smexy-bucky-waifu @withasideofmeg @darkroastjoel @willowsvalley @forestfaeriequeen @radsanchez @moonlightdivine @noisynightmarepoetry @mysingularitybts @misshoneypaper @ezzynf @spideyyhoe @runningmom94 @disassociation-daydreams @serendipity22086 @lionlena @shotgun-shelby @daddy-din @dins-riduur-anthe @phoebe13 @bageldaddy @sunnyskyapplepie @jenispunk @zeida @joeldjarin

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #my fic #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #dee writes #fic: sun bleached flies

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flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Man with the Pearly Hair

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, smut, angst, obsession, symptoms of the disease such as fever and convulsions ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

____

Her husband did not let her experience any peace or rest the night after the ball, informing her that he did not mind if she fell asleep while he was rooting into her sore core. They would fall into sudden, deep slumbers, his arms embracing her tightly.

As soon as he awoke she could hear his murmur of satisfaction caused by her presence and the closeness of her body – his length throbbed inside her, and with tentative, slow movements at first, he would begin all over again.

She felt stunned by the intensity of the sensations, feeling as if they had truly become one flesh, his scent filling her nostrils, her cheek nestled against his chest. After their intense rapture, they fell asleep again, and when she regained consciousness for a moment, she told herself that she couldn't open her eyes, as if Vhagar was lying next to her and not her husband, her King, the man who killed for her.

She would then open her eyes and lift her head, gazing with bliss and peace at his sleeping face. She stroked gently his cheek and hair, afraid that she would wake him. She was only answered by his hum of contentment, his arms clasping around her tighter, pressing her closer to him, his hand sinking into her hair, hugging her cheek to his heart.

She could hear his slow heartbeat, feel his warm breath, and thought she had never felt truly happy before him.

Truly peaceful.

Truly safe.

When, during one of the evenings they spent quietly in his chamber, each sunk in reading a book, sitting by the fireplace, Ser Criston walked in and announced that the bodies of the royal family had finally been found, decisions were made very quickly.

Her husband had ordered the tombs for his family to be made much earlier and they stood empty under the great temple next to the graves of his ancestors, waiting for their burial place to be discovered. She could see the pain mixed with anger on his face when he found out that the bodies of his parents and siblings were buried in a mass grave under the kitchen cellars.

She lowered her gaze with a clenched throat, thinking only of how humiliating it must have been for him, that her father had treated them worse than the murderers, who at least had the opportunity to be buried with prayers and any dignity.

Her husband ordered the work to be expedited and decreed that within the next two days everything was to be prepared for this grand royal funeral, unable to bear the thought that the bodies of his loved ones were lying and rotting, waiting for justice.

He did not speak, he did not eat and he did not sleep, immersed in his own thoughts, sitting for long hours in front of the fireplace and gazing into the flames, joining her only in the morning, seeking refuge in her embrace, tired and distraught.

Even though her father had done all this, she felt complicit.

"My Queen, the dressmakers have not managed to sew a suitably thick gown and cloak for you. It is freezing and snowing outside, why not wear a different gown, such as this one, a brown one?" Suggested one of her servants a few hours before the ceremony. She shook her head without even bestowing a single glance on her, looking in the mirror.

"No. I must wear black, wear mourning by the side of my King. Bring my gown and the cloak I wore at my mother's funeral." She said dispassionately, she heard the women look at each other with concern.

"But Your Grace, you will frown, the material is too thin. Let us at least put your furs on underneath your cloak." Mumbled one of them. She sighed and nodded.

As she rode behind her king-husband, past the row of coffins in front of them, the cold winter air pierced her body like daggers. She closed her eyes, trying to curl into herself, knowing that she faced hours of standing during the funeral ceremony in the cold temple and thought that this would be her punishment for what her father had done.

For the fact that his treacherous blood flowed in her.

Therefore, she hid the quivering of her body by standing behind her husband rather than at his side, wanting to bear it with dignity, thinking of lying down in a warm bed as soon as they returned to their stronghold.

Already on the journey back she felt an excruciating pain in her bones, her head heavy as if someone was squeezing her skull – it seemed to her that the world around her was humming and blurred, struggling to maintain a straight posture.

When they reached the courtyard of the fortress Ser Criston had to help her off her horse; he looked at her for a moment, apparently seeing her pallor, however he said nothing.

He did not trust her knowing who her father was.

She did not resent him for this.

The most important thing for her was to know that he was completely devoted to her husband.

Her King no longer commanded her to come to his chamber, simply disregarding the possibility that she should spend the evening and night anywhere other than with him.

For this reason, she followed him into his quarters feeling her whole body shaking – everything around her seemed blurred and painfully loud, she had the sensation as if someone was breaking her bones.

She swallowed with difficulty, stripping out of her cloak and gown with the help of her servants, one of whom seeing her pale face leaned over her and asked in a whisper.

"My Queen, shall I summon a medic?"

She shook her head, raising her hand in a gesture that informed them that they could leave – all she dreamed of was to lie down and sleep. Her husband only hummed under his breath when she told him she'd already gone to bed, sitting with his back to her by the fireplace, staring into the flames completely absorbed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

When she lay down she finally felt some kind of relief – she didn't have the strength to turn or move so she just closed her eyes and after a moment there was silence and darkness all around her.

"My love?" She heard as if through a fog someone's voice, his voice, her King, her husband, her death, her beloved shadow. She felt his wonderfully cold hand on her inflamed body – even though she was drenched in sweat, she got the impression that she was freezing all over. "My love, wake up."

"I'm cold." She mumbled out with difficulty, unable to stop her body shivering, each breath made her struggle.

She felt that her lungs and nostrils were on fire.

She heard him swallow loudly and then he was gone, her mind drifting away again. She awoke with difficulty lifting her eyelids, suddenly noticing that the chamber she was in was filled with the light of candles. She could hear conversations all around her, as if there were several people inside, someone's hand washed her forehead and her chest with a cold cloth, bringing her relief.

"My King, we asked her, but she said she was choosing this gown and this cloak and that she would not bring shame to the king, that she must look proper on such an important day, we could not force her." She heard someone's terrified voice and recognised her maid, answered immediately by her husband's cold, mercyless hiss.

"You fucking fools! I'll hang each of you in turn as soon as…"

"− my King −" She muttered quietly, wishing he was by her side, terrified that she couldn't see anything clearly – her head was spinning and she had trouble keeping her eyelids open.

"− I'm so cold − yet at the same time my body seems to be on fire −"

She heard his quick movement, a moment later he was already beside her, his cold, familiar hand caressing her every night touched her cheek – she sighed in relief as she smelled his scent.

"− you have a fever, my love − brother Albert will prepare a decoction at once, which you will have to drink − rest now −"

She lurched as he forced her to drink the disgusting decoction she was nauseous from, the taste of ginger and garlic so intense that her stomach twisted all over.

"− drink − that's an order − you are to obey your King and husband −" He exhaled, holding her cheek painfully tight, tilting her head back so she wouldn't choke, forcing her sip after sip to drink it all to the bottom.

When he finally let her go she cried out loud, terrified and weak, not fully aware of what was really happening to her, forgetting where she was and who she was.

She felt her husband holding her in his arms throughout the night, his hand touching her forehead again and again, checking if her condition was improving. She had a feeling, half asleep, on the verge of consciousness and lack of it, that she heard him praying quietly, lying on his side behind her, his face pressed against her hair.

Gods, who watch over justice in heaven and on earth, have mercy on us.

Gods, who intercede for the poor and despised, have mercy on us.

Gods, who have brought this woman before me and bound me to her for eternity, have mercy on us.

What was empty is full.

What was broken is whole.

What was separated is one.

She tightened her hand on his arm which embraced her hearing his words, feeling a squeeze in her throat. He flinched at the gesture, lifting his head, she felt his anxious breath on her hot cheek.

"− my love? − how do you feel? −" He asked quietly and she swallowed loudly, feeling that she was still hot, her head was spinning and she was in pain all over, but she was no longer trembling.

"− tired, my King − tired and sore −" She whispered, and he sighed heavily, embracing her more tightly, putting his face where it had been a moment before.

"− sleep, my love − your husband is with you −" He whispered, rising after a moment, taking the cloth from her forehead – she heard him dip it in the water and squeeze it out, only to lay it again on her hot skin. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief at how pleasant it felt – he slipped his ice-cold hand under her nightgown and placed it over her heart.

The next day her husband had to attend a meeting and her mother replaced him at her side. She was forced to drink another dose of the medicine, but this time she was able to drink it alone, falling into a restless sleep again afterwards.

Brother Albert found to everyone's relief that her fever was slowly lowering and her body was beginning to fight back, that the worst was probably behind them.

Despite her mother's objections, when she felt a little better in the afternoon she asked to be allowed to take a bath and to change into a new chemise.

Washing her hair and body all drenched in sweat and then putting on a new undershirt made her feel fresh again, and although she felt like her head was going to burst and she had to go to bed again immediately, she regained her appetite and her mother personally went to see to it that everything she needed was brought to her.

She was surprised when one of the lords loyal to her husband since their conspiracy days, who was among his closest advisors, Lord Malet, entered her chamber. He had not announced himself beforehand and surprised her completely with his visit.

"My Queen, I know this is not the right time, however, there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you." He said standing away from her bed. She lifted her gaze to him and sighed heavily, having great difficulty concentrating, everything around her was spinning.

"Speak, my Lord. I am listening to you." She said in a hoarse voice and coughed quietly, sighing heavily. The lord shifted from foot to foot, swallowing loudly, clearly aware that he had to brew words.

"The King has decided today to marry my eldest daughter to an important dignitary of a neighbouring kingdom, to strengthen our alliances. However, I have already promised her hand to someone else. The King will not listen to me and I have come to beg you to intervene in this matter." He said lowly looking at his feet, embarrassed apparently by his request and by having to beg the traitor's daughter for help.

She let out a quiet breath, recognising that this matter required great delicacy and forethought – her husband was like a burning flame and all it took was a moment's inattention for him to set everything around them on fire in his rage.

"− I will try, my Lord −"

Her husband walked into their chamber as her mother was helping her eat the broth. Something about the sight pleased him; he hummed, coming closer to them with his hands clasped behind his back, his forehead lightened and smoothed.

"− my wife −" He said softly, and she nodded, not having the strength to do anything else.

"− I will take care of her now, my Lady −" He directed his words to her mother, and although the tone of his voice was calm, one could hear that he was not giving her any opportunity to object.

She nodded, handing him a half-empty plate of soup and stood up, stroking her head, telling her to rest.

As soon as the door closed behind her, her husband pulled the eye patch from his face, accustomed to not wearing it in her presence. He sat down next to her on the bed, putting on a spoonful of soup and placing it under her mouth. This time she did not stand up to him and ate slowly even though she was already full.

"− I'm glad you've got your appetite back −" He said lowly, relief and weariness in his voice at the same time – she knew he hadn't slept through the night, exhausted after the funeral and terrified of her condition. She swallowed quietly, gathering herself with difficulty to get out what she wanted to say.

"Lord Malet paid me a visit today." She began hesitantly, lifting her gaze to him. She saw that he looked at her surprised, vigilance in his healthy eye, his brow furrowed.

"What did he want from you? Why was he bothering you in such a state?" He asked with an air of annoyance and displeasure. She pressed her lips together, feeling her heart pounding fast.

"He came to ask me to help him in a matter concerning his daughter." She said slowly and saw him lick his lower lip furiously. He chuckled under his breath, however there was no laugh of amusement – he ran his hand over his mouth and chin impatiently.

"I see. Do not think about it." He said dryly, indicating to her that he intended to end the subject, putting another spoonful of soup on her.

"He is her father, Aemond." She made another attempt – he saw his jaw clench, his lips forming thin line, his nostrils moving restlessly.

He tried not to explode.

"And I am her King. She lives to fulfil her role for the kingdom." He said harshly, coldly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She could see in his gaze the threat that one more ill-considered word from her and he would lose his temper.

"If your father had told you to marry another woman instead of me, would you have done it?" She asked quietly, feeling her words hang in the ether; she saw the shock and fear in his gaze, his lips twitched – she could see he hesitated.

"…yes."

She looked at him with her lips slightly parted, feeling a tightening in her heart and in her stomach, some horrible, cold kind of disappointment flowed through her body, the realisation of who she was in his eyes.

A favourite, but still, just a pawn.

She answered nothing more, lowering her gaze, feeling only a terrible headache, only fatigue, only resignation.

"However, I fear she would soon meet with an unfortunate accident that would make me a widower." He added after a moment and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling her heart pounding rapidly.

He stared at her, his healthy eye wide open, focused only on her, a certain, cold, piercing gaze that would see every lie and hesitation, every weakness.

"The daughters of lords in the kingdom would die until you were the only candidate to become my wife. You know very well that I am very patient." He added in a half-whisper – she swallowed loudly as she saw him set the bowl of the soup down on the table next to their bed.

"You and I are like the sun and the moon. Like north and south. Like day and night." He hummed with delight, grinning uneasily to himself, his fingertips running over her warm cheek.

"Do you think I would let any other man take you as his wife? I'd let anyone else touch you? Hm?" He asked softly, but there was a sweet threat in his voice that sent a shiver through her. She shook her head, despite her fatigue and weakness feeling the throbbing between her thighs at his words, so dark, threatening, certain.

"And you? What would you have done if I had not come to you that night? If your treacherous father had married you off?" He asked lowly, quietly, looking at her vigilantly, more like an animal than a human being, searching for any signal of hesitation or falsehood.

"My husband would find me dead in his bed before he had time to touch me, to bruise me of the only thing left of my dignity." She whispered with a certainty from which he licked his lower lip quickly.

He began to breathe involuntarily through his mouth as he stared at her with wide-open eye, his sapphire gleaming mischievously in the moonlight streaming through the window into his chamber.

She sighed quietly as she felt his hand slide from her cheek down her neck to her breasts and lower abdomen, lifting her nightgown with an impatient motion, his fingers sinking into her hot, soft womanhood.

Her lips parted in a quiet, dreamy moan as he began to explore her condition, meeting her wetness between her slit – she saw a smirk appear on his face from which her walls pulsed hard around nothing.

"Destroy me. Leave me with nothing. Those were your words. Weren't they?" He gasped, his fingertips trailing between her folds, teasing her bud, her thighs involuntarily spread wider, the pleasure and tickle she felt in her lower abdomen making her feel even more stupefied.

"Yes." She mumbled quietly, innocently, with a sigh, as if the very memory of the intense, brutal act that was their first physical intimacy when he took her maidenhood brought her some kind of relief.

She shuddered as she felt his finger begin to slide tentatively inside her, teasing her opening with a click of her moisture, looking at her with some kind of intrigue.

"You didn't know who I was, and yet you let me take you. You longed to become my wife. Why?" He asked low, his voice deep and resonant, and she realised that this was the first time he had ever broached the subject of his or her feelings in any way, that he was allowing her into places of his mind that no one else had access to.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus, feeling weakened and at the same time distracted by the tickle she felt between her thighs, the tension that grew in her with each passing moment as his fingers dug harder into her throbbing heat, sliding out of her only to slide back in.

"− because you were like death − like a dark veil, a shroud, a coffin, and I felt dead − it seemed so right −" She whispered and she heard him draw in the air loudly, as if her words had startled him, his thumb beginning to run over her pearl and tease her as his fingers pressed the spot inside her hidden in her folds with sure, circular motions.

"− do you still feel dead? −" He exhaled in a trembling voice, as if there was something in the sight of her, in the way she moaned softly and wriggled helplessly, without the strength to resist him, from which he was losing his temper.

"− sometimes − but not with you − never with you −" She mumbled, glancing up at him wearily – his face looking different from usual, breathing loudly along with her, his full lips parted slightly, his eyebrows arched as if in worry, his eye misty, full of affection and longing.

"− if I will not be violent − will you let me? −" He asked in a quivering voice, and she nodded, knowing what he wanted, knowing what he needed.

He undressed, allowing her hand to untie the ribbon in his hair as he leaned over her, gently stroking her face with his fingers. He lay down between her thighs looking down at her, lifting the material of her nightgown only over her thighs, not wanting her to get cold.

She felt the head of his cock pushing against her slit and she sighed softly, spreading her thighs wider, wanting to make his task easier. He rooted into her surprisingly tentatively and slowly, sliding out several times, as if he wanted her insides to adjust to such intense filling.

It was such a surprisingly pleasurable and tender sensation that she began to moan quietly beneath him, stroking his cheeks and hair, their mouths meeting with each other in a sticky, hot, slow kiss, then another and another, their lips trailing over each other, their hot breaths surrounding their faces.

She ran her fingertips over the skin of his scarred cheek, feeling his thrusts begin to grow deeper and more confident, they both started to pant as a thrill of pleasure shuddered through them. She clasped her hands on his bare buttocks, rubbing against him so that he pressed the wonderful spot inside her each time he slided inside her.

"− yes − oh, yes −" She whispered, tilting her head back, his lips slid down to her neck, placing small, greedy kisses on her skin, leaving a wet trail on it, sucking and licking her naked flesh, rooting into her with the sure, deep thrusts of his hips, her walls clenching against him steadily.

"− am I causing you pain? − do you want to stop? −" He muttered between his pushes, with the remnants of his strong will trying to remember that she was still weakened and sick, that just a few hours ago she had a fever and should now be resting, not exerting herself.

However, he had never done this to her in such a gentle way before and she shook her head quickly, breathing loudly along with him.

"− n-no − please − please, husband, it feels so good −" She mewled, massaging his neck with her palm – she heard him groan low, his manhood throbbed hard inside her. He immediately sped up his pace, taking her hot hips in his hands, pounding confidently and deeply into her, slapping his thighs against her buttocks with a loud click of her moisture.

"− fuck − so good −" He exhaled looking down at her with his lips parted wide – she clamped her hands on the pillow on either side of her head, feeling her walls suck him inside, soaking his cock, his pace increasingly intense and fast.

All that came out of her mouth was a mumble as she came suddenly, pleasure shook her body and she just began to moan helplessly, trying to push him away, but to no avail – he pressed his hands against the bedding, slamming into her like mad, panting and groaning loudly, allowing himself to be more vocal than usual, his forehead pressed against hers.

"− just a little longer, my love − I'm so close − oh, gods, fuck, fuck, fuck! −" He gasped loudly, with a few final, desperate thrust filling her with his seed, his face expressing fulfilment and bliss. They panted for a moment with their eyes closed, still rocking their hips, trying to calm themselves.

She stroked his soft, long hair as his body fell gently on top of her, completely without strength, making sure he didn't crush her with his weight.

"You have possessed my body and soul." He whispered in her ear, his large hands still stroking her thighs and buttocks in a soothing, calm motion.

"You have broken into my mind. Into my heart. I feel that I'm losing my mind. That I have crossed the line leading into madness." He muttered in a trembling voice and, without knowing why, she felt herself smiling, her lips placing a tender, warm kiss on his bare, sweaty shoulder, her fingers running over his back.

"We both crossed it long time ago, my love."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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

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marlynnofmany · 1 year

Text

What’s a Minor Heart Attack Between Friends?

It’s never a good look to be visibly startled by your coworker’s existence. Especially when you’re the only human on a spaceship, and you’ve surprised more than one shorter alien by turning a corner too quickly. I should have known better after tripping over Mur’s tentacles that one time; blind corners are risky. Anything could come around them. And the rest of that little courier ship’s crew ran the range of appearances. None of them should have given me much of a shock at that point.

But dang, Trrili looked scary. I couldn’t help flinching every time she appeared when I wasn’t expecting it.

Picture this: I was talking to Coals, the burly little Heatseeker with deep red scales and a quiet demeanor. We were outside the office-type room where some of the crew did translation work to bring us extra money. He was telling me about a random poem that someone had broadcast through space; I was thinking about whether his full name fit on paperwork; his name is Glowing Coals (Which Create the Heat We All Love) — that’s not important, but the point is, I didn’t expect Trrili to step out of the doorway, and I jumped.

Shiny black and red, bug eyes and mandibles, taller than me, pincher arms, and far more stealth than should honestly be allowed. Seriously, Zhee was the same species, and he clicked when he walked, but Trrili was a master of stepping silently. And while Zhee was colored in gaudy purples, Trrili just looked evil.

I did not say so out loud. I know better than that. But the flinching was an instinct, and there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Except laugh it off and apologize, of course.

“Woah, didn’t see you there!” I laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. Has anyone ever told you that you’re very quiet?”

“Yesss,” Trrili said with a completely unnecessary hiss. “It has been said.” I was still learning Mesmer facial expressions, but I was pretty sure that her antenna angle meant amusement. She was smirking at me.

“Don’t encourage her,” said Coals, pulling my attention back down to hip height. He was short for a Heatseeker, with stocky proportions that made him look like a lizard-turned-teddy-bear when standing next to the hulking terror that was just another person, dang it, no matter how creepy.

“Encourrrrage?” Trrili purred with an unsettling crackle to her voice, crouching to loom over Coal’s shoulder.

He didn’t bat an eye, still gazing placidly up at me. “Some of us take unseemly pleasure in predatory games.”

Trrili flexed a pincher ominously, sliding back into the shadows. “Sssssome of us are good at it.”

“Like I said,” Coals told me as she disappeared. “Don’t encourage her. She’s very proud of herself.”

“Well, isn’t that Mesmers in a nutshell?” I asked, trying for a smile. “Mesmerizing and magnificent and ready for everyone to acknowledge it?”

Whatever Coals was about to say was lost as Trrili sprang out to land with half her bug legs climbing the wall, filling the corridor with black-and-red nightmares, hissing.

I jerked in place. “Ngah!”

Trrili’s hissing laughter merged with a long-suffering sigh from Coals.

“Welcome to Trrili’s favorite game,” he said. “The captain made her promise to stop scaring Paint, after one too many breakable things got dropped.”

Trrili gathered her limbs into a more civilized configuration. “Paint is too easy to startle,” she said, without a trace of a hiss. (Ha! Knew she was doing that on purpose.) “Hardly a challenge.”

I tried to pretend that I wasn’t 50% adrenaline at the moment. “How many times have you gotten smacked in the face on reflex?”

Trrili spread her arms. “My trrrrack record is exssssellent.”

I didn’t point out the inconsistent hissing. “Anybody ever try to scare you back?”

“None successsssfully,” she said with a tilt to her head that I chose to interpret as arrogant.

I shifted my weight onto one food, aiming for casual as my heart rate calmed back to nearly normal. “And are you the type to snap somebody’s head off as a startle reflex, or would you take that well?”

Another hissing laugh. “We may never know!”

“She’d just flare at you,” Coals said. When I looked down at him, he raised his arms in a loose approximation of a Mesmer threat display. “‘Oh no, a scary thing! I’d better show it I’m scarier!’”

A frightening face appeared to glare at him from up close, but he ignored it with the ease of long practice.

“Good to know,” I said. “Well, I should get going, to do the things I was going to do. Some things. Right, check the supply list! It’s been nice talking to you!”

I waved and left, nerves still singing that I could get jumped at any moment. Thankfully only goodbyes followed me to a more populated part of the ship. I had a supply list to check, and now also a careful prank to consider.

I found Zhee in the supply room.

“Question for you,” I said by way of greeting. “Well, several. Do you and Trrili come from the same planet, or are there Mesmers everywhere? I don’t actually know.”

He stopped counting soup cans or whatever and quirked one purple antenna in a fair approximation of a raised eyebrow. “Several planets and three dozen moons have been graced with Mesmer populations,” he told me. “I have no idea which population center she hatched in. Somewhere fond of malicious cackling.”

“Ah,” I said. “Yup, she does seem to like that.” Since he was still looking at me (from a reasonable height, which was nice), I continued. “Are you familiar with snakes?”

“That’s an animal from your homeworld, isn’t it?” Zhee asked. “Something with scales?”

I nodded vigorously. “Picture a small Heatseeker without arms or legs, just a long body that wriggles across the ground.” I made vague gestures. “Like a head on top of a tail.”

“Why?” was his only answer.

I shrugged. “They eat little animals that live in holes in the dirt. Being long and narrow makes it easier for them to find prey.”

“Oh, well, obviously,” Zhee said with a wave of one pincher arm. “Can’t argue with that.”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “Some of them are venomous, with a bite that can kill a much bigger animal.”

Zhee rested his pinchers on the box of soup cans, and rotated his head at an uncomfortable angle. “And why are you asking if I’m familiar with them?”

I went for honesty. “I want to startle her back.”

“Ah! Well, then.” Zhee turned away from the box, his many legs tapping quietly as he gave me his full attention. “That I would like to see. What is your plan?”

“Still rough at this point,” I admitted. “But there’s a classic prank where I’m from called a snake-in-a-can…”

* * *

In the end, I went a slightly different route, and had to wait until after our next supply run. That was a long wait. Trrili made two more surprise appearances, laughing at the way I twitched both times. At least I kept in my yelps of surprise. I found myself glad that she was so big, simply because it limited the dark corners she could jump out of.

Finally my chance came. It was a casual mealtime with most of the crew coming and going from the kitchen and lounge, enjoying their favorite foodstuffs after the recent restocking. I’d made a point of getting an over-hyped box of “Earth Foods For Humans,” and sat down at a table right next to the hallway.

Paint came over to eat with me, all splotchy orange scales and a sunny disposition. I showed her some of the many things in the box, just waiting for the inevitable.

A shadow fell over the table. Paint meeped quietly, her mouth full of fish.

I turned to find shiny black mandibles spread wide, mere inches from my face.

“Oh, hi Trrili.”

She closed up her face. “You arrrre becoming no fun,” she hissed.

“Nonsense, I’m lots of fun,” I said, digging through the box. “Hey, while you’re here, I’ve been meaning to ask Zhee: can you guys actually smell ripe fruit? Since you don’t eat it?” I pulled out a bruised orange and removed a chunk of peel, holding it up for her to sniff.

“It smells like a plant,” Trrili replied. “Somewhat sharp and unpleasant.”

“Huh. I guess that’s the citric acid,” I said, setting it down and digging some more. “You’re missing out; it smells delicious to me. Oh hey, look at this!” I pulled out the stiff paper envelope I’d hidden in the box earlier.

Both of them were watching. So was Zhee from the next table over, but he was doing a good job of pretending he wasn’t.

“These are such a delicacy,” I said, flipping the envelope over but not opening it. The front held a picture of a snake. I waved at Zhee. “Hey, remember those venomous animals I was talking about? The ones with the rattle on their tails? I got some of their eggs!”

“You are welcome to them,” Zhee said.

“I think you guys would probably like these,” I said with a glance up at Trrili. “They’re really pretty; they seem like the kind of thing a Mesmer would appreciate. Here, have a look.” I handed her the envelope while I made a show of digging around some more to see what else was in the jumble of potatoes, beef jerky, and triple-bagged stinky cheese.

Trrili took the envelope, gentle with those little wrist fingers that let her manipulate things with pincher arms. I deliberately didn’t watch, instead keeping my eyes on Paint, who was opening her mouth to ask a question.

When I heard the loud rattle, I whipped my head up in time to see Trrili toss the envelope away and flare her pinchers in a hissing threat display that was every bit as dramatic as I’d imagined.

Paint shrieked.

Zhee laughed the hardest I’d ever heard him.

“It’s okay,” I said, grinning to split my face as I picked up the envelope from the floor. Other people were asking questions, though Zhee’s obvious amusement kept them from getting too worried. “It’s not real.”

While Trrili hissed quietly, I upended the envelope over my hand. The contraption that fell out was the most low-tech of pranks: a bent wire, a rubber band, and a metal washer that had rattled against the paper when the envelope was opened, releasing pressure. I’d wound it up just before leaving my quarters. And it had worked beautifully.

“What is that?” Paint asked, still leaning away from the table.

“Karma,” I said, holding it up and spinning the washer, still grinning. “What do you think, Trrili? Mesmer approved?”

Trrili folded her arms tight against her body and angled her antennae into a fierce glare. She left without a word, stomping instead of moving silently.

Zhee was still chuckling. “Mesmer approved,” he declared. “That was excellent.”

“Oh good,” I said.

Paint settled gingerly back into her seat. “Where are the eggs?” she asked.

“There aren’t any,” I said, tucking the gadget away and picking up the orange again to resume peeling. “Rattlesnakes don’t even lay eggs; they have live birth.”

“Oh,” Paint said.

“But Trrili didn’t know that.” I separated a slice of orange and popped it into my mouth. “Think she’ll lay off the startling?”

“Hm. Probably not; she really likes it.”

“Then I may just have to come up with a few more surprises for her,” I said, smiling with all of my human teeth. “My people have an entire industry for things like this, and I have a childhood full of ideas.”

~~~

Further adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

#my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #pranks #in spaaace #aliens

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