#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 3 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

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Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

362 notes · View notes

norrussell · 5 months

Text

Lines | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: it's morning after the victory celebration and George and you need to talk about what happened the previous night, except it doesn't really go as planned

Warnings: angst

A/N: 👉👈👀 Now I wish I had that other one shot ready considering George ended up on the podium, but balance baby. The melody of the song might not fit, but the lyrics are 🤌 Also I made a whole damn playlist for this little story

Previous part

The morning after excessive drinking was never a good one. The sun shining through the unclosed curtains only made the head pounding worse, causing you to let out an agonized groan. Your throat and mouth felt parched like walking through a desert and your body seemed to be weighed down, refusing to move when you tried turning over.

You extended one arm and blindly felt around the cold, empty side of the bed that obviously someone had been in last night. You were only barely aware of the night before. You knew you went out to celebrate George's win and had an amazing time, but you were vaguely able to recollect any of it.

There were only flashes of him holding you as you moved on the dance floor and drinks coming and going - the reason why you were in such pain right now. The way you celebrated, someone would think it was you who won. And in all those in-between moments, you couldn't remember meeting anyone and certainly had no memory of bringing them home, but you knew someone should be beside you. And surely George wouldn't just let you-

George.

Your eyes flew open.

Oh, no.

You glanced to the left side of your bed, trying to convince yourself that it was just a drunken dream and you slept alone in your bed, but the sheets were crumpled exactly as they should have been if someone had occupied the space. Only faintly, bits and pieces of what happened after were coming back to you now - the feel of George's lips and of his fingertips dancing on your skin.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, blinking away dizziness as you sat up. You held onto the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning and you found your balance again. Moreover, feeling exposed underneath the sheets was only a confirmation of what you dreaded most.

The only thing that you could take solace in at the moment was that you didn't have to face George and the aftermath of your own doings. Oh, how could you have been so rash? You were the one to initiate everything with your friend, despite begging him not to let anything come between your friendship. All night, you kept making advances towards him and it was due to your constant prodding, teasing and cajoling that George eventually kissed you and ended up in your bed.

You heard an uninvited voice in your head. There were no consequences last night, only two friends who had spent the most perfect evening together doing the things they loved and being with the one person they trusted the most.

But the night hadn't ended there. And it had involved an awful lot of alcohol.

Oh, god, you couldn't even remember everything that happened.

And that was the thing that scared you even more.

Then George's deep voice echoed in your head. You could remember every word he said last night, and you could still feel his arms wrapped around you. He'd loved the feel of you. He'd loved watching you. He'd loved how hard you came on his fingers. He'd been so proud of you.

No, no, no, no, no, no. This is ridiculous. This shouldn't have happened. You ran a hand through your thick, tangled hair when a loud noise coming from outside of your bedroom snapped you out of your thoughts.

You jumped out of the bed, grabbing the first bit of clothing you could find and hastily throwing it on. The sunshine hit you hard from your floor-to-ceiling living room windows, your eyes squinting as you tried to adjust to the brightness. And there he was, moving effortlessly through your kitchen, just in his gray sweatpants and barefoot.

You could observe the definition of his back muscles, how relaxed and tranquil he was. The red marks that ran across his body were only a further confirmation it was true what had happened the previous night. When he spun around to face you, his lips curled into a smile as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

"Good morning,"

"I thought you left," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, leaning against the doorframe.

His face dropped and he put down the thing he was holding on the counter. For the first time ever it was hard for him to read your face. "The way you said it sounds like you wish I did."

"No, I just..." you tried to find words to explain, but nothing was coming. "That's not it at all."

"I'm making breakfast," he grinned once more, showing off the pan.

"Mhm," you murmured, trying to give him a hint of a smile, but it fell flat.

He didn't seem to notice though as he was busy stirring something in the pan. "I like your outfit by the way," he said casually without even glancing at you.

It was only then that you looked at yourself. You were wearing his shirt from last night. Your hand moved to take it off, but you remembered there was nothing underneath, so instead you pulled the fabric closer to your skin.

"I'll give it back," you muttered, trying to keep your eyes away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I didn't say it because I wanted you to give it back. You know I let you wear my clothes," you knew he was trying to make things less awkward, but it only made it more difficult for you. This was not supposed to happen between the two of you. You were just friends, best friends, and now there was this added layer of complication that you couldn't ignore.

"That was before… That was different."

"How is that different?" he turned around, facing you fully.

"It just is!" you snapped.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa, okay. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you muttered, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone, I wanted to-"

"That's not the problem," you shook your head.

"Then what is?" he finally turned the stove off, looking at you.

"What are you making?" you forced a smile and walked up to him, the subject changed once again.

You were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and he knew that. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you didn't regret what happened last night. He knew you better than anyone else and he could see the guilt eating away at you. He had to do something to make you feel better, to make things right. Still, he let you have your way, glancing at you sideways. "Well, it's an omelette with all kinds of vegetables. Even the mushrooms you hate."

"And the tomatoes, right?"

"And the tomatoes." he smiled, nodding.

"Smells amazing," you returned the smile.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you hungry?"

"I'm sick, honestly." you grimaced.

"Here, drink this, it should help you with your hangover until I wrap this up." he said, indicating the pan.

"Is this one of your trainer's smoothie recipes?" you asked, eyeing the glass filled with green liquid suspiciously.

He laughed, then nodded. "Guilty. But it does the job, trust me. I already had one."

You took a small sip, noting the disgusting taste.

"Bleh," you tried to shove it in your mouth as fast as possible and moved the glass away from your lips. You shivered, shuddering at the aftertaste.

"I told you." George laughed, taking it from you. "It's not that bad."

"I hate you." you muttered.

He sighed, somehow not doubting your words, presenting you a plate with the omelette and the cooked vegetables on it. He then poured out a glass of water for you. "Eat up, you'll feel better."

You shot a glare at him, but grabbed your fork and started eating anyway. He stepped away for a brief moment to search for and put on a shirt. And that irked you even more. How could he be so calm, so collected, so... normal after what happened between the two of you last night? You couldn't even look at him without feeling a sense of shame washing over you.

The more you stayed quiet, the more apprehensive you were about what had happened the night before. You didn't know the consequences that may arise from your actions and it could have caused irreparable damage, even though nothing seemed to be amiss. The stress was steadily building inside of you as you desperately tried to keep yourself from starting an argument, but eventually you couldn't contain it any longer.

The guilt that had been weighing down on your heart since you woke up was only getting heavier. How could he act like nothing was out of the ordinary? Like nothing had happened between you two? How could he not bring it up?

"I can't do this." and there it was.

"Do what?" he said with a frown.

God, this was not a conversation you wanted to have first thing in the morning.

"Pretend." you crossed your arms. "Acting like what happened last night didn't happen."

George's face fell, but he didn't look away from you. "I'm not pretending, y/n." he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. “I just thought that maybe we could talk about it later."

"Later? George, this is important. We can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

"I know it is," he was still frowning.

"Last night, I- I don't know what came over me. I mean, I got drunk, you know that I wouldn't do something like that otherwise."

“I know,” he repeated.

"Well, I think I wouldn't, anyway," you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a nervous cough. "Because right now I can't remember a single thing that happened after the club."

"I brought you home." George replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Can you stop doing that?" you were getting annoyed after each second that passed.

"What?" he responded, still not meeting your gaze.

"Avoiding addressing the problem. Like nothing changed between us!"

"I'm not." he gritted.

"Oh, please!" you rolled your eyes, "Can we not do this right now?"

"Do what?!"

"This! Act like nothing happened between us and nothing changed. We can't just sweep it under the rug. We are both adults, you can act like one."

“Nothing has changed.” George finally looked up at you, his eyes penetrating yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you want me to say, y/n? That I regret last night? That I wish it never happened?" he shook his head. "I can't say that because it wouldn't be true."

"We crossed the line!" you shouted.

"What line?! The line was already blurred after the thing that happened in my driver's room. Last night it was barely existent!"

You flinched at his words, the reminder of your previous encounters with George sending shivers down your spine. "I shouldn't have ever let you touch me." you whispered.

"God, if I knew it would be like this I never would have offered."

"So why did you?" you snapped.

"Because I wanted to." he clapped back.

The tension between you both was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel like your friendship was hurtling towards its breaking point. You couldn't understand why he was so calm about everything, why he wasn't feeling the same way as you. It was almost as if he didn't care about the fact that you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

"You wanted to?" you repeated, feeling the anger inside you bubbling up. "Is that all it takes for you to just throw away our friendship like it's nothing?"

"It's not like that," he said, his voice calm despite the way you were shouting at him. "I care about you, y/n. You know that."

"We shouldn’t have let things go this far…" you whispered.

"Well, yeah, it's all should've, would've, could've now, isn't it?" George's voice was hard and bitter. He pushed himself away from the counter, balling his fists at his sides.

"How can you be so calm about it? Does it not mean anything to you? Do you even care?!"

George ran his hands through his hair, frustration etched onto his face. "No, I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset about it."

"Why am I so upset?! We had sex, for god's sake, George!"

George stood up from his seat and walked towards you, his face just inches away from yours, his breath hot on your skin. "And it was amazing," he said. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it just as much as I did. Do you remember what you were saying to me last night? Huh? Do you?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push down the memory of your slurred words. "That doesn't matter," you said, trying to push away from him. "That's not even the point! We can't just pretend like it never happened and go back to being friends like nothing changed."

"What, you don't want to admit that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you?" he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face. "And I asked you, time and time again, are you sure, do you want this," he raised his voice, "and you said yes every time. Don't backtrack now just because it's convenient for you. Don't even try to deny it."

"I was drunk!" you yelled back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What did I know? You should've known better than to..." you trailed off, not really wanting to believe it.

"Than to what?" George interrupted, his eyes blazing with anger. "To trust you? To believe that you knew what you were doing?"

"You knew I was vulnerable!" you shot back, tears streaming down your face.

"Vulnerable of what?!" he bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You were the one who came on to me, who kissed me, who begged me to take you."

"You could have said no!" you cried, feeling the weight of the accusation heavy on your shoulders. "You should've said no..."

"Why should I have said no?" he shouted. "I wanted you! I still want you! God, I wanted you for years. I'd be willing to risk anything just to show how much I cared, but because the friendship meant so much to us both, I was afraid that if I confessed my feelings, I would end up losing you completely. And being your friend was infinitely better than not having you at all."

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, dousing you from head to toe. His face was twisted from anger and hurt, but there was no denying the truth in his words. And you were afraid of losing him too, otherwise you wouldn't even be acting this way. He was your best friend, or at least you thought he was. You had been friends for so long, you couldn't even remember when you two became friends. You were so close, so comfortable with each other, so much so that it became a part of your identity. That was why the transition from two to one had been so abrupt.

"I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never expected him to say something like that, not in a million years. It was as if a dam had burst inside of you, all the emotions you had been holding back crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You stepped back, trying to make sense of what he just said. "You love me?" you repeated, feeling your heart skip a beat.

George nodded, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry, this isn't how I planned to tell you. I don't know if I ever did. And maybe you’re right, maybe I should have taken better care of you last night and waited until we were both sober do to something, but I couldn't hold myself back any longer, I've been in love with you for so long-"

"No. Don't. Shut up." you raised a finger to stop him from talking further. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" he stepped closer to you, his hands reaching for yours, but you stumbled away from him, towards the window.

"Shut up, George. Just- shut up." you placed your hands on your temples hoping to block everything out.

The room spun and you felt like you were going to throw up. You couldn't believe what was happening. You had never thought of him in that way, not once. He was your best friend, your confidant, your everything, but not your lover. How could he be?

You turned away from him, your back pressed against the cold window. You felt trapped, cornered, and scared. You didn't know how to feel, what to do, or what to say. You were lost in a sea of conflicting emotions, and you didn't know how to swim.

"Don't you love me?" he asked, his voice still soft, his eyes clouded with worry.

"No." as soon as the words flew out of your mouth you wanted to retract them. "Yes. No, not like that." you couldn't handle it anymore. You were breaking apart inside and you were afraid that if you stayed here that you would shatter completely. "You can't be in love with me."

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” George's voice was laced with pain and frustration.

"You have to stop."

"Stop what? Loving you? You think I can just turn my feelings off like a switch? But if you're so wise tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me." the emotion in his voice was like a thunderbolt.

And then you saw them, the tears in his eyes begging for you to stop pushing him away. And you saw the pain, the pleading hurt in his eyes. And you felt your heart breaking.

Oh, god. You were hurting him.

You hesitated, but your feet started moving before your mind had a chance to catch up with your body. Before you realized it, you were standing in front of him, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand instantly grabbed yours.

"I tried, you know? It's not that easy." he sobbed. "It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, now that I see what it's doing to you. To us."

"I think we need to spend some time apart." you said.

George's grip on your hand tightened, and he looked at you with a mixture of fear and desperation. "How can you be like this?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I just need some space, George. This is all too overwhelming for me right now. I need to figure things out for myself."

George's eyes widened in shock. "You can't walk away from me like this. We can do it together, we can-"

"No, I'm not walking away from you," you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm. "I just need some time to think. We both do. On our own."

"Time apart won't solve a thing." he said, his voice pleading.

"There's nothing left to say." you sighed.

He almost laughed. "I just confessed my love to you and it's all too much? You have nothing left to say? Huh?"

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. How could you explain to him that your heart was so full of conflicting emotions that you couldn't even speak? You loved him, there was no denying that. But you were scared, scared of losing him as a friend, scared of losing yourself in him. You needed some time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed, and for the first time, you couldn't do that with him around. Not right now.

"I need to do what's best for me right now. I hope you can understand that." you took a step back, your hand slipping from his.

George's eyes followed your hand as it slipped away from his. His heart ached at the thought of losing you, and for a moment, he considered grabbing your hand and pulling you back into his arms. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to respect your wishes, even if it hurt like hell.

"What's best for you, huh? I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?" he said, walking backwards away from you.

"George-" you started, but he already disappeared in your bedroom.

When he emerged back, he was wearing one of his sweaters that you borrowed a long time ago and never returned. He put on his jacket and shoes without even looking at you. You knew he was hurt, but you also knew that you couldn't just give in to him. You needed to take care of yourself first. As he walked towards the door in silence, you knew that he was leaving, maybe for good. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you loved him too, but you stayed rooted to the spot, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

The second he left, you fell into the cushions of the couch, your hands clutching your face. You had crushed his heart and yours in the same instant. You needed space to collect your thoughts and decide what the future held for George and yourself - if a future existed at all between you two.

Next part

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Text

To Be Warm And Comfy

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I was only going to write down this little idea before I took a nap... And then I ended up writing the whole thing

The crochet theme actually came out of nowhere for me. I cannot crochet anything more than a chain to save my life, but I do loom knit from time to time

Warnings: self-deprecation, low self worth

Word Count: 776

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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Slotted between his legs, you rested your back against Astarion's chest. His arms coiled around your waist and held you close, while he pressed his nose into your neck and peered over your shoulder. With practiced hands, the yarn slid through your fingers at the perfect tension, hooked and worked together into rows of perfect stitches.

He'd never seen anything quite like it. During his living years, he focused on intellectualism and law, not crafts. And during his servitude, sewing and embroidering came about from necessity, though he did still enjoy them. This was incredible. He couldn't stop watching as you worked in smooth movements to crochet your little project. You wouldn't tell him what it was, but he was content simply to watch.

For several weeks, this became the nightly pattern. You'd lay back in his arms while he held you, watching you work away in silence or with idle chatter. When you finished for the night, you'd set your project aside where it wouldn't get damaged, he'd gingerly bite into your neck and take his share, and he'd lay down with you as you drifted off to sleep. Usually he stayed, if he'd had enough to eat during the day and didn't need to sip on some boar or squirrels. Sometimes he would read while you crocheted, sharing his favorite bits with you. It was nice. Peaceful.

You told him, one night, that you were almost finished. He'd watched with rapt attention then, studying the way you fastened off and weaved the excess yarn back through the stitches. He'd realized almost a week ago that it was a sweater, but it was almost a marvel when you held it up by the shoulders in front of you both to show it off.

He kissed your jaw with a gentle squeeze around your midsection. "It looks wonderful, darling."

You hummed, smiling brightly. "I'm really glad you think so." You sat up and turned in his arms. He didn't fight to keep you where you were, though he certainly missed the solidness and warmth you provided. You held it out to him. "Put it on."

He frowned, confused. "Don't tell me you spent weeks making that just to give it away?"

"Of course I did, now put it on."

"I'm hardly worth the effort," he scoffed. He did not accept the gift. His expressions mixed oddly - light-hearted joy, befuddlement, self-deprecation - all flooding his system and overwhelming him. He simply could not grasp the fact you'd go through all the effort for him. "Surely it would look much nicer on you!"

You sighed, understanding and long-suffering. "Tell you what, if it doesn't fit or you don't like it, I'll keep it. Deal?"

He sighed, too. He'd hardly be able to refuse it once he put it on. But you nudged the sweater in his direction again, and how could he say no?

You watched with a wide grin as he slipped it over his head and slid the sleeves along his arms. It was... really nice, actually. Warm and soft without feeling constricting. It fit him perfectly.

"You're always so cold," you explain, wrapping your arms around his waist and relaxing forward until your chin was against his chest. "So I made you this. You can wear it when touch is too overwhelming, or if you feel too out of it to cuddle. I just want you to be warm and comfy."

He chuckles breathlessly, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "I'm sure I'll be very comfy in this."

His undead heart ached. You went through so much trouble. He'd seen you struggle to find enough of the same yarn, watched you cuss and groan every time a stitch fell or when you had to undo a section because you miscounted. He'd held and massaged your hands when crocheting began to wear them out.

And still you persevered. For him. You even ensured it would fit a little loose, so he wouldn't be claustrophobic. It was... a lot. To have someone go through all this trouble.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up until he could give you a proper hug. He nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, and he sighed. Softly, sweetly - completely relaxed.

"Thank you." He bit his tongue before he could ask if you were sure, if he really was worth the effort. Surely, by making the sweater, you'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was. "I shall cherish it always."

"I love you," you coo sweetly by his ear.

He must look like a fool with how wide he's smiling. "I love you, too, dear."

---

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#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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veintrry · 2 months

Text

I'VE DONE THE MATH

there's no solution.

synopsis: love with scara is hard

an: have you guessed this is a laufey ref, I just felt like writing something lovey but I like angst too much. also... hey teehee also shoutout ayame for getting me out of my slumber <3

Scaramouche and you have always held a complicated relationship. Even your friendship was confusing, in the sense that it was deeper than most. Maybe not necessarily romantic, but it certainly wasn't exclusively platonic. You two relied on each other, and you understood one another in a way that went past words. You didn't need to speak for himbto know what you thought. It was seamless. You and him had gone through hell and back together, so when your connection bloomed into that of something more than friends it was practically nothing but perfection.

It was beyond that. You had glee on your heart each time you saw the indigo of his irises and knowing that someone loved you. It was fulfilling having an anchor that kept you at the bay that had grown so familiar. The joys of not needing to say those three words, and the feeling that everything is going to be fine, as long as you have each other. And you were content. You believed he was too. But, you felt his attention drift. And the acts of affections, the gifts, and touches you attempted to make to maintain what you had, or what was left of it, were fruitless. You wrote endless words of expression, trying to make him see that emotion between you two once more, but nothing would come back. At best, acknowledgement. At worst, ignored. Practically forgotten like you were nothing.

You don't know when it started, or why. You don't why that anchor that had once been the one thing keeping you on your feet was keeping you stuck in place, unable to move on. Even though you two were dating it was like you had never once spoken in your entire lives. You'd say that you still felt that joy when he looked at you, but he doesn't even glance at you anymore. It was like you were erased without an answer. And with desperation you clung. For once you had attained a love you didn't know your body and mind craved and you wanted it back. It made you feel alive in the most cliché sense. So you continued to try, to become more persistent. But it's like he only cared when you did everything, when there was no one else but you to fall back on.

Then it dawned upon you. You had become merely the thing that comes last to everything, the thing he kept around just so he never is fully alone. It all felt so aimless. All you wanted is to see the hue of his eyes again rather than being met with the back of his head, the only sight are his silky straight strands. It was as if his face was obscured. So, you stopped. You stopped being the first to come to him, to display your love - if you can call it that anymore - first. To be there. And you waited. You couldn't help waiting internally, for that day he'd come back, the day he'd speak to you, tell you he's sorry and he loves you. And foolishly, you'd forgive him as you've done countless times. But that day never comes.

You fought for what you wanted. You allowed yourself to be pitiful. You let your fingers write him honey sweet words till they began to mean nothing to you, and you had to search for new sentences, new phrases, just so you can be refreshing - less repetitive. But it didn't matter. It did not matter what letters you strung together, how you ordered a sentence, how neatly you tied a gift, how long you spent picking it, how gentle your touch was or even its warmth. Because he didn't love you. And worst of all, he didn't care. He didn't care despite your long history and you were left for nothing.

So, you told yourself you'd get away. Distance yourself. There was nothing for you here, not with him. But it hurt. It hurt not being anything. Because despite how horrible it felt when you had something, at least it existed, at least you can say it's there. But now, nothing was left. Your memories were just that; Memories.

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mysadcorner · 7 months

Note

Reader’s in her pre-period shit. She’s in a point of extreme horniness and anger at the same time.

It’s happen to me every pre-period days and it’s most difficult part of my life 😣

How would batboys react reader being both angry and horny at the same time?

Congratulations your 600 followers btw I hope it’ll be something like 600000 one day 🥳🥳

Batboys x Pre-Period!Reader Headcanons

-Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific with characters in requests -

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2,000 followers now!!!

Dick Grayson

• Dick probably hasn’t had a lot of experience with living with women after he was adopted by Bruce, and he certainly hasn’t held a lot of seriously long term partners despite his many relationships. He may not know how to handle your conflicting feelings at first, but he’s always willing to figure them out to keep peace and to help you feel better.

• He wouldn’t be a huge fan of the mood swings, but he’s still able to handle them pretty well. He’s good at calming people down when they’re feeling tense, and you can hardly stay angry at Dick for very long. Plus he’s more than willing to help you out when you’re craving intimacy from him.

• If you’re usually in the mood for intimacy with Dick in the days leading up to your period, he will be thrilled to help you out. He may not always have the time and he may be tired due to how much he has to do during the day and going on patrol at night, but he will always find a way to make more time for you.

• He would try his best to be sensitive towards you, and will always apologise if he accidently upset you or made you angry in any way. However, he may end up getting tired of having to be careful around you and watch what he may say or do at this time every month due to you potentially being overly sensitive.

• Going through this every month may be tiring for the both of you but Dick will be more than capable to handle and deal with it. He also loves you very much, so he isn't going to let your anger get in the way of anything in your relationship together and will make the most of you wanting to be intimate with him.

Jason Todd

• Jason is going to be very confused if you haven't opened up to him about what you're feeling or what the problem might be that you're facing. He'll try his best to understand, but until you open up to him about what you're actually going through he's going to be pretty clueless.

• He wouldn't be a big fan of the mood swings as he hates being snapped at, especially since he's allowed himself to be vulnerable in a relationship with you. You being mad at him is much different to the people he fights on the street or one of his family members being angry at him, so if you're not going to be direct and honest with him (and instead are just irritable and angry) then he isn't going to force himself to be around you.

• Jason would have no problems with you being in the mood for intimacy more often that you usually were, so you certainly won't have any complaints from him about this. He'll also feel a lot more comfortable initiating intimacy with you now that he knows that you're naturally more inclined to want the same thing as him.

• He always tries his best to be sensitive about the things he says or does around you because he naturally has a hard time doing so after all he's been through. He may mess up with this though as he's naturally very outspoken and rough, so if he does upset you he just wants you to know that he didn't do it on purpose.

• For Jason, this being an occurrence every month wouldn't bother him too much as long as the two of you aren't fighting because of it. He doesn't really care how much the two of you make back up and resolve arguments if there's just going to be another one around the corner - and he really doesn't have the patience to put up with it.

Damian Wayne

• Damian is usually very stoic while also being attentive. So when he first finds that you're having conflicting emotions around this time he wouldn't assume that is was because of the hormonal influence you may be under, and would immediately assume there was a problem that he needed to fix. He wouldn't catch on to what the problem actually is until you explain it to him, and even then he may act uninterested about it at first when he realises you're not facing any threats or trouble.

• Damian doesn't care if you're having mood swings, and he'll hold firmly the belief of treating someone how you always intend to treat them. The fact that you may be snapping at him without provocation or getting mad at him randomly shows that you're not in control of your emotions (or in his mind you're not trying to be). So no matter how much he loves you, mood swings are not something he'll simply put up with just for the sake of keeping you calm when he's not the one at fault for your behaviour.

• If you're in the mood then he will of course be more intimate with you, whenever the time is right. He isn't the type to be intimate with someone on a whim, so even if he is in a relationship with you, he'd prefer to wait until the two of you could have some proper alone time instead of just rushing around whenever one of you is in the mood.

• Damian has a hard time being sensitive towards anyone, but as you're someone he loves he will do his best to be a bit more gentle around you. He likes and needs someone strong willed, especially with the lifestyle he has (so despite being sensitive towards you, he does get tired of needing to very quickly).

• Having to deal with this every month would not be something he's willing to put up with, especially as your mood swings may cause some insecurities about the defence he's constantly trying to keep up for his own safety. He also isn't one to put up with arguments at all from someone he truly cares about, so if this does consistently happen every month and he suffers from it you can't expect him to put up with it for long.

Tim Drake

• Tim is always going to try and find the root of the problem, so when he finally realises what may be causing your temper or sudden bursts of wanting intimacy he's relieved to know that it's just something simple and not a problem in your relationship together going on.

• He doesn't like dealing with you mood swings, because this guy feels bad whenever you do already, so for this to happen pretty often he's going to be going through an emotional rollercoaster with you. He'll try to keep the peace between you and calm you down whenever he can, but he does hate the arguments no matter how much you blame mood swings (especially as it's not fair for him to have to deal with).

• Tim will always be excited when you're in the mood, so you don't have to worry about him turning you down too often; although, he does sometimes get too caught up in his work meaning he doesn't always have enough time to do whatever you want when you want. As long as there are boundaries about you not trying to distract or impose anything while he's doing something important then he'll have no problems with it.

• He always does his best to be as gentle and kind as he can be towards you, so you'll never have to worry about him being mean or having to be more sensitive around you. He's quick to notice slight changes in your behaviour so he's also pretty good to notice when he should or shouldn't say certain things to you.

• Tim is pretty good at dealing with this kind of situation, so he doesn't mind putting up with it every month. He will be tired sometimes, so it wouldn't really bother him unless it results in a serious argument or something bad happening because of either a mood swing or getting in the way of his work to get his attention.

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wholoveseggs · 4 days

Note

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed, biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse.

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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megalony · 8 months

Text

I Won't Allow It

This is a new Aegon Targaryen imagine, I hope you all will like it. I might do a follow up if anyone is interested.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: Aegon knows the risks of childbirth and is thrilled when (Y/n) sails through labour. But when she takes a bad turn, he doesn't know how to cope. He won't live without her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a quiet sigh, (Y/n) closed her eyes for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. She wished this meeting would come to a swift end, but she had an unsettling feeling that it was going to drag on for a long while yet.

This meeting had been going on for over an hour already and (Y/n) wasn't sure she could stay standing for much longer. There were no chairs in the great hall, every member of the council and public had to remain standing while every decree was read aloud and every misdemeanour was dealt with.

Out of everyone in the hall, (Y/n), Aegon, Aemond and Helaena were the most unamused of them all. The four stood close together, huddled in a line near Alicent and Otto, trying to be respectful without showing their dismay for the entire event. It wasn't joyous to be here, not like when they had jousting events out in the gardens, even hunting would be more preferrable to this.

Trying not to show her discontent, (Y/n) curled her hand around Aegon's bicep and gently pressed her lips against his shoulder.

Out of them all, her husband looked the most annoyed. He stood broad and confident enough with his shoulders squared and his hands clasped respectfully in front of him, but it was his expression that gave away his annoyance. His lips were curled into a grimace, his eyes were zoned out and his tongue was pressed up against his cheek. He wasn't listening, he hadn't been listening after the first ten minutes.

But when he felt (Y/n) nuzzling her face into his shoulder and her delicate fingers held onto his arm, his grimace unfolded into a soft smile he saved just for her. He let his shoulders slack and loosened the tension in his arms so she could wrap herself around him like a vine.

He turned his head and kissed (Y/n)'s temple, breathing in her scent that was as distracting to him as her beauty.

Aegon stayed like that for a while with his head turned away from the court business and his lips relaying a constant kiss against his wife's forehead. He liked the way she was leaning into him and the feel of her protrouding stomach pressing into his side.

If this meeting carried on for much longer, Aegon was going to walk out. He didn't like them at the best of times, but he certainly didn't like the fact that his very pregnant wife had to stand around for hours at a time and endure these dullish meetings. She was almost at full term and Aegon had told her to stay resting in their room but (Y/n) didn't want to be alone or parted from her husband.

She was still expected to attend these meetings as well and with the failing health of the King, they all needed to stay in good graces, (Y/n) included.

"Okay?" He whispered quietly, his lips mumbling against her skin while he moved one hand to rest against the back of her head, holding her close despite the very public audience.

"Hm," (Y/n) found herself nodding but she didn't quite believe herself and she knew Aegon didn't either.

She couldn't stand still, usually she had no problem standing in the hall and watching the meeting play out, especially with the extra weight on her stomach making her feel tired. But today, she couldn't stop fidgeting. Her lower back was constantly aching, her feet were throbbing and her stomach and pelvis were heavy and dull.

The maester had said that she would start to feel like this and she would have the fake contractions soon to prepare her for labour. She hadn't had them yet and figured this was the start of them. Any day now, they were going to meet their baby.

With Aegon smiling against her temple and his fingers knotting in her hair, (Y/n) felt a small wave of ease battle the discontent she felt inside, even if it was only for a moment or two. She could have whined when he slowly untangled his hand from her hair and went back to clasping his hands together against his front. He had to try and look a little regal and sophisticated in front of everyone.

Shifting his weight from his toes to his heels, Aegon slowly rocked back and forth, not enough for everyone to notice, but just enough for his mother to glance his way and feel Aemond's gaze burning into the back of his head. He was so desperately bored. Why did they all have to be here to witness this?

He continued to sway on his feet and took to looking up at the ceiling that seemed as high and distant as the stars in the midnight sky. But his shifting concentration snapped when he suddenly felt a weight on his chest.

His eyes shot down and he realised it was (Y/n)'s hand clenched around his leather tunic. Her grip was fearsome and her other hand dug painfully into his upper arm. In less than a second, Aegon could feel the buttons starting to undo and pop open from her force and when her knees bent out and she leaned over, she almost pulled him down to the ground.

Something resembling a buried growl left Aegon's lips when he flustered to curve his arms around his wife and hold her up so she didn't fall to the floor.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Aegon tried to keep his voice quiet enough so that only (Y/n) could hear him but it didn't stop others from noticing his struggle to keep his wife up on her feet and not the stone floor. He didn't like the way all the voices in the hall came to an abrupt stop when they noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

"I- I don't…" (Y/n) couldn't find any words. She didn't know what was wrong, all she could tell was that the burning in her stomach had suddenly shifted like she had been holding something heavy in her arms and now she'd dropped it.

"Aegon,"

His eyes flitted from his wife to his sister when Helaena leaned over and rested her hands gently on (Y/n)'s shoulders before she cast her eyes downwards. And when he followed her line of sight, he couldn't stop himself from smiling just the tiniest bit.

Her waters had broken.

By now, a few murmurs were cutting through the thick atmosphere but Aegon couldn't hear them. His ears were ringing, buzzing with excitement and relief. This meeting was over and more importantly, his and (Y/n)'s long wait was about to be over. Just a few more hours.

"Mother, can you alert the midwives please?" He was sure most of his family were relieved to postpone this meeting, even his mother, stood silent with her mouth agape, seemed like she wanted to smile despite herself. "Alright, let's get you upstairs," Pressing his lips against (Y/n)'s ear, Aegon tightened his arms around her before he carefully turned her to the side and made a slow but steady beeline for the exit.

Removing her hand from Aegon's tunic that was now partially exposing his chest, (Y/n) tried to straighten herself up a little when some of the tension lessened in her lower back. It was going to be a long, torturous walk back to their chambers from here.

When they were out of the hall and out of earshot, Aegon leaned down and pressed a kiss to the shell of (Y/n)'s ear.

"You have impeccable timing, my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) watched the midwife give a lasting, if disapproving look over towards Aegon before she excused herself from the bedroom, a bundle of used towels, sheets and cloths in her arms. It was clearly the first time the experienced midwife had delivered a baby with the father present in the room.

She had tried her best to discourage Aegon and get him to vacate into the adjoining sitting room but she had no such luck, on any of the times she told him.

He wasn't going anywhere.

There was no chance that Aegon would leave the room when there was a chance the worst nightmare of his life could happen. Being a disappointment to his family, his mother, didn't frighten Aegon, he had made peace with that demon long ago. Disappointing his father was much the same. The possibility of him taking the crown frightened him, and failing as a King worried him to no end.

But what petrified Aegon more than anything was the thought of losing (Y/n).

He wanted children, not just because it was seen as his duty to both the realm and his twisted family, but because he loved (Y/n) so much that another person to love like her made him think his life would be complete. Someone else to love him as unconditionally as (Y/n) did seemed unbelievable and Aegon wanted to be a far greater father than his own had ever been to him.

He was the son his father had always wanted, always yearned for, but that pride hadn't brought Aegon and his father close, no matter what happened. Aegon knew his child would be the light of his life.

He was afraid though, he didn't want to lose (Y/n) the way his father lost his first wife. He wanted (Y/n) to be like his own mother, strong and able to sail through childbirth with no problems or consequences or fatalities. And to soothe his petrified thoughts, Aegon simply had to be in the room from start to finish so he could reassure himself that (Y/n) was alright.

It didn't matter if everyone, his mother included, told him it wasn't right or fit for him to be in the room, he had to be there. And (Y/n) wanted him there, he needed no more approval than that to stay by her side.

With an arm circled around (Y/n)'s shoulders, Aegon nuzzled his face into the top of her hair and pressed his bare chest into her side. Over the evening and during the night, Aegon had become too warm with all the fussing from the midwives and from (Y/n) who had burned up something horrid during labour. He reduced himself down to his underwear in the early hours of the morning and was barely starting to cool back down.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bundle in (Y/n)'s arms. And he couldn't believe how well (Y/n) looked. Aegon hadn't seen any woman after the trials of labour, but a mere hour after giving birth, (Y/n) looked as well as he'd ever seen her. Colour had returned to her face, a smile was broad on her lips and despite the tiredness pooling in her deep eyes, they were almost sparkling.

Even laid there, half slumped into Aegon and propped up by thousands of pillows, (Y/n) looked like a goddess to Aegon. Despite the sheen of sweat that was vibrant on every inch of her skin or the way her silver hair was matted with sweat and clung to her neck. Even though she was still shaking from the after effects of giving birth, she looked truly stunning to Aegon.

When the bedroom door slowly crept open, Aegon's smile almost slipped from his face and he was ready to tell the midwife to leave, her duty was over. But his smile widened when he saw his mother slowly walking into the room, checking if it was alright or not for her to enter.

"How do you feel?"

(Y/n) leaned her head back on Aegon's shoulder, trying to fight the tiredness that was almost as strong as the shaking she felt.

She felt good. The shaking, the dull aches and throbbing pains were minimal compared to how elated she felt to be wrapped up in Aegon's arms with their daughter in her arms. As soon as she got some sleep, she would feel even better.

"Tired… would you like to hold her?" (Y/n) held her arms out when Alicent perched down on the edge of the bed and she could see tears in the Queen's eyes when a small bundle was rested in her arms.

"You've done wonderfully,"

Alicent couldn't help but sneak glances at her eldest every now and then. A few years ago, she would never have imagined Aegon would be happy and content in marriage or that he would be at his wife's side during her labours. From the troubled soul who drowned his sorrows in wine to the beaming son in front of her was a change like Alicent had never seen before.

A silent exchange passed between Aegon and his mother after a while when he could feel (Y/n) drooping against him and he noticed she was having trouble staying awake.

"I'll let you rest and pop by in the morning," She patted (Y/n)'s leg before carefully standing up, adjusting the newborn in her arms so she could settle her down in the crib at the foot of the bed. Wet nurse and nursery be damned, (Y/n) and aegon wanted their child as close as they could get her, she was staying in their chambers with them where she belonged.

When the door closed, Aegon shuffled down until he could burrow into the mountain of pillows. He spread his arms to allow (Y/n) to inch closer and lay herself over his chest with her arms bound to his waist and her face tucked into his neck before his arms coiled back around her middle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon gave the door a quick shove until it clicked shut behind the maid who scuttled out of the room without needing to be dismissed verbally. All of the servants had come to realise that they would have to sweep in and out of the Prince's chamber quickly and efficiently. Their usually slow and tiresome tasks such as changing and making the bed and sweeping and generally tiding the chamber were not required for this week.

This was the one week where Aegon could actively and happily refuse every royal duty he was told to attend or perform. He wasn't attending any boring meetings, he wasn't going to training religiously like his brother, he wasn't seeing to state affairs or having the awkward meetings with his father.

For this week, or as long as he could possibly manage, Aegon was staying in his chamber with his wife and daughter and no one would even think to stop him. Even his mother was pleased he was staying put with (Y/n) whereas he thought she would have tried to force him back to normality straight away.

Adjusting the newborn in his arm, Aegon turned on his heels and slowly padded across the room towards the bedroom.

Seeing as how he wasn't leaving the room, all he had decided to wear was some thin loose bottoms. There was no need to be formal or dress up in his usual stiffling leather attire when he wasn't going anywhere or doing anything pressing. He could walk around his own room barefoot in his underwear if he liked.

A fondness spread across (Y/n)'s lips when she turned her head towards the door and saw a sight that swelled her heart. Her husband looked so natural and relaxed holding their daughter as if it was his life's purpose that he had been waiting for for years.

She liked the way his hair fell across his forehead but didn't hide his broad smile and she loved how he cuddled Daena against his bare chest and how the muscles flexed in his arms when he held her.

Fatherhood looked good on him.

"Are you hungry?" Aegon advanced over to the bed until he was stood between (Y/n)'s legs and he could kiss her temple.

When the maids came yesterday to bring breakfast they were stunned when Aegon took the tray from them and quickly dismissed them. For the rest of the day and today, they had learned to hurry in, set down the food on the table and leave. They didn't want to disturb the Prince and his lady.

He had been quite surprised yesterday that (Y/n) had woken feeling tired but refreshed and seemed to gather bounds of energy. He had walked the length of their bedroom more times than he cared to count, pacing around slowly but happily with (Y/n) in his arms when she needed to stretch her legs but couldn't walk unaided. It also surprised Aegon that (Y/n) was starting to get her appetite back when the midwife wrongly said (Y/n) would be run down and would likely eat very little in the upcoming days.

But (Y/n) was still feeling a little queasy so light meals and soup were on the menu for this week.

"Hmm, very." Leaning forward, (Y/n) held Aegon's hips and kissed his stomach just above his hips causing a shiver to run down his chest.

"Come along then," His voice was as gentle as his touch when he moved Daena into his left arm and coiled his other arm around (Y/n)'s waist to help her up. He loved the feel of both his girls in his arms and (Y/n)'s hands on his stomach and back and her lips on his collar bone.

He hoped this week never came to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon let out a soft groan before he slowly unravelled himself from around (Y/n) when she started to fidget again. He rolled onto his back and reached his arm over to drape it across (Y/n)'s stomach until his hand coiled around her hip and he gave the flesh a soft squeeze. He wouldn't be able to sleep unless at least one part of him was touching her, whether that he his hand, his foot or even his leg. They just had to be touching.

Shuffling again, (Y/n) slowly heaved herself around until she was laid on her right side and she inched back until she was touching Aegon's chest and leg. His arm stayed wrapped around her and his hand moved absentmindedly in his sleep until his palm was flat against her stomach.

She thought she was finally falling back to sleep until the dull throbbing pain started up again and she smothered her face into the pillow to quieten her whimper.

(Y/n) had felt sick since early this evening but going to sleep had taken the unease away for a while. Even when she woke up to feed Daena and soothe the babe back to sleep, (Y/n) had felt better when she laid down. But now the ache was becoming more assertive and it wouldn't go away.

Her knees coiled up to her soft stomach and her arms bound to her chest, hoping that compressing herself would somehow make her feel better, but it didn't.

Maybe she should have listened to the midwife and taken things easier, not walk around the chamber as much or eat just little bites for the first week. Maybe the pain was because she had felt better to begin with and pushed herself too hard, but then again, (Y/n) didn't think she had done a lot. Aegon had been with her for the past three days, he helped her move around, he didn't let her leave the bed too much and told her to rest. He even picked Daena up from the crib and soothed her because he was so infatuated by her.

As soon as a sudden spike stabbed through (Y/n)'s stomach, she could feel tears welling in her eyes and a sob bubbled at the back of her throat.

It hurt. It was getting worse. Why wasn't it stopping?

Unravelling her arms from her chest, (Y/n) latched her fingers around her husband's upper arm and gave a sharp tug on his arm, jolting him closer to her to wake him up. Burning cries errupted past her lips and she could feel hot, sticky tears falling down the crease of her nose and coating her lips but she didn't care. She just wanted the pain to go away.

A hiss scraped past Aegon's teeth and he tensed when his arm started to burn. It took a moment for him to open his eyes and lift his head before he realised it was (Y/n)'s nails scraping down his arm that was causing him pain. She was drawing blood beneath her nails, she was digging in so hard.

"A-Aegon… oow, Aegon…"

"Love, what's the matter?" The urgency in his voice was crystal clear and he woke up with a start.

Pushing up on his elbows, Aegon sat up and twisted to the right so he could look down at (Y/n) and lean over her. He didn't like the way she was shaking or the grip she still had on his arm that she was scrunching and clawing at so badly that he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He could see she had her eyes closed tight but her legs were digging into her stomach which he was sure couldn't be comfortable after giving birth only four days ago.

"Talk to me, what's wrong?"

"It hurts, really bad." He could hear the force in her voice and the way it quivered, she could barely speak from the pain.

"Alright love, shh. I'll get the Maesters."

Leaning down, Aegon pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head before he slowly dragged his arm free of her viper grip and untangled himself from the sheets. He didn't know what to do first. He couldn't move from the shaking that overwhelmed him.

It took a few attempts for him to properly light the candles on the table to adorn the room with a golden glow and he grabbed the pants that were strewn on the chair near the window. He couldn't very well call for help in the nude.

He wished he didn't take another glance back at (Y/n) before he left the room. Now he could see the blood staining the bedsheets.

"Aegon slow down- tell me what's happening!" The urgency in his mother's voice only spiked the fear that was coursing through Aegon's blood. He tried to run down the corridor, pulling his mother along behind him until she was tripping over her night skirts and struggling to breathe from the panic.

He had woken her during the middle of the night by kneeling at her bedside and shaking her violently until she woke with fright, scaring her frail husband beside her. Now he was dragging her down the halls of the keep, presumably back to his quarters, and Alicent had no idea why.

"Is it Daena?"

Although Aegon always went to his mother when he was troubled, he had never come to her as frantic and bewildered as this. He had never had such rage, torment and panic in his violet eyes, not even when he was drowning his sorrows with wine.

"(Y/n), I-" Whatever he was about to say drowned out into a squeak when they reached the corridor that housed Aegon's chamber. He could hear his name from all the way down here. He could hear his wife screaming for him.

The two Maesters Aegon had alerted before waking his mother were already in the room and he bustled past them to scramble back on the bed beside his wife. With more candles across every inch of the room, Aegon could see her better and he could see how poorly she looked. Clammy, discoloured skin, trembling limbs that were coiling up to her stomach and a large circle of blood around her torso and legs.

He almost fell on top of her when he held his hand out and (Y/n) latched her fingers around it and wrenched his arm against her chest like she had done earlier. He tangled his free hand in her hair and shakily pressed his lips against her temple, trying to soothe her but he didn't know what was happening or what he could do.

"Aegon, sweetheart, I'll take Daena into the next room for a little bit while the Maesters work." Alicent could see the confliction on her son's face. He didn't want her to leave, he had woke her up and dragged her here because he needed help too, he needed to comfort (Y/n) but in turn wanted his mother to comfort him. She always told him it was going to be okay, she would hug him and quench his frivilous mind and her presence was calming.

But Aegon relented with a nod. He knew Daena was starting to wake and all the bustle and panic in the room would only disturb her. Alicent would be in the adjoining room only a few feet away if he needed her.

(Y/n) curled her arm around Aegon's neck, gripping his back tightly before she tugged on him and tried to sit up until he understood her silent plea. He swooped an arm around her waist and pulled her up so she could sit up and he took the liberty of inching closer so she could lean against his chest.

No sooner had one of the Maesters stood at (Y/n)'s side, did she reach out and snatch the empty bowl from his hands before promptly throwing up. Her throat burned, her stomach twisted into knots and heaved and it felt like she could barely breathe anymore. Her body was caught between crying and heaving and she choked between the two until everything she ate came back up with vengence and she could finally breathe again.

"What's wrong with her?" Aegon snapped his jaw like a dragon, barely able to see through the tears and the hair sticking to his face.

"It seems to be an infection from childbirth, your grace."

"Well fix it. Quickly!"

Tears burned down Aegon's face like poison soaking into his skin but he couldn't stop them. This was his worst nightmare, this is what he had feared for the past nine moons since finding out about (Y/n)'s pregnancy.

He wasn't willing to lose her like so many other men lost their wives in childbirth and he would not lose her from complications after birth. If (Y/n) died Aegon would die too. He had been reluctant to think or talk about labour because as much as he wanted a child, he didn't want to risk that it posed.

"D-don't leave me, please…" (Y/n) coiled her free arm back around her stomach to try and ease the pain but she pushed back into Aegon until she could feel every ridge of his skin glued against her.

She wouldn't get through this if he left her side.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love. Shh, I'm here." His lips nestled back to her temple and his arms cocooned around her middle, keeping her flush against his chest and their hands entwined together. He could feel how cold she was and he was determined to give (Y/n) his body heat and keep her safe and warm. There was no where Aegon could or would go, he couldn't be anywhere but here unless he wanted to drive himself insane.

"I'm scared-"

"I won't let anything happen to you, I swear it." He wasn't sure what was within his power, but Aegon would trade anything to the Gods if they saved (Y/n). He would give his life in exchange for hers if they asked it of him.

"Here your grace, drink some of this," One of the Maesters leaned close and held out a cup towards (Y/n) but she only groaned and shivered.

"What is it?" Aegon had to know exactly what they were trying to do and how they were planning on saving his wife. His world. His everything.

"Milk of the poppy, to ease the pain and let her sleep-"

Aegon had never heard (Y/n) scream as loud yet feebly as this. She writhed in his arms, shaking and pushing back until she was starting to hurt him because she could not get any closer to him but she still pushed and nudged until his body started to ache. Her nails began to scratch at his skin again and when she tucked her face into his neck, he could feel her raspy, wet breaths and her tears trickling down onto him.

"No. No I- I can't have it… Aegon, what if I d-don't wake up? Endless sleep, I- I don't want it."

(Y/n) cried until her throat went raw and her lungs burned for breath she couldn't seem to find. She could feel the heat radiating off of her husband and it seeped into her frozen body and soothed a small ache within her.

She didn't want milk of the poppy, it would take away the pain but it would also make her sleep. With how horrid she felt and the panic of everyone, (Y/n) knew she was close to death. If she went to sleep, she might not wake up from it. If she had to die, (Y/n) wanted to know when death came to possess her. She wanted to be awake and aware and have Aegon and Daena in her sights before she passed.

(Y/n) didn't want to die. Just the thought sent her body reeling and made her scream until Aegon was hushing and whispering in her ear and he started to rock her from side to side.

"You won't die, my love, I won't allow it. You don't have to have the poppy milk, shh, just calm down. I'm here, I'm not leaving you and you aren't going to leave me, are you now?" When (Y/n) slowly started to breathe instead of scream and her body settled in his arms, she heard him whisper. "There, now. Shh, I've got you."

When the ruckus and the panic in the room seemed to calm down and (Y/n)'s bleeding relented and was under control, Aegon was relieved to have his mother back in the room. She moved the cot to a quiet corner in the room so Daena could sleep before she sat on the other side of the bed.

"Ready, one, two…" Alicent wrapped her arms around (Y/n)'s front and carefully leaned her forward so Aegon could scoot behind her.

He laid back into the pillows with (Y/n) between his legs and her head on his shoulder, his arms tight around her waist to try and keep her warm. His mother wrapped two blankets around them both to help (Y/n) absorb some heat. Aegon didn't bat an eyelid at the heat that now consumed him or the light sweat that started to coat his skin, as long as (Y/n) was okay, he didn't care about anything else.

"Drink this, it will help clear the infection." Alicent pressed a cup gently against (Y/n)'s lips, relieved when she drank most of the remedy after being assured it wasn't milk of the poppy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon groggily opened his eyes and took a moment to gather his senses. Where was he, what was he doing, what was going on?

His back was throbbing horribly and he soon realised it was due to the way he was laid. His body was awkwardly slumped to the left on three uneven pillows and he was curved at the hip. Both his arms were loosely draped around (Y/n) who was also laid curved like he was but she had slumped down a little so her head was now resting just beneath his collar bone.

And when he looked further down the bed, he saw his mother draped over (Y/n)'s legs with her and her own legs were dangling off the side of the bed. She couldn't have been very comfy, she must have been exhausted to fall asleep laid like that.

They were all exhausted.

It had taken until almost midday for the shaking to stop and the remedies to finally start combating the infection (Y/n) had. Aegon couldn't remember much after that. Sleep came in waves, every few hours he would get maybe an hour or so of sleep before he woke up to get smoe more fluids into (Y/n) and while his mother saw to Daena and got something for herself to eat and drink.

"Aegon…"

His eyes went wide in their sockets and he pushed himself to sit up when he suddenly realised (Y/n)'s hand was cupping the side of his face.

"Mother, mother!" He gently but urgently nudged Alicent before he twisted round so he could look down at (Y/n). "Love, how do you feel?"

She felt run down, broken, horrid and sick, but despite feeling all of that, she felt better.

Her body was no longer succumbing to shaking and she didn't feel as if she was drowning in a frozen lake, she was finally warm wrapped up in her husband's tight embrace. Her stomach wasn't tied in a thousand knots or thundering like she was being stabbed and there were no horrid aches and pains rattling through her and pounding in her blood.

(Y/n) couldn't answer, she didn't have the words, but the delicate smile on her face was enough to send Aegon's heart rocketing in his chest and bring him back to life. His hand moved to cup the back of her head and his lips pressed urgently to her temple until (Y/n) could feel his tears soaking into her skin and his breathless laugh vibrating through her.

And when Alicent's hand slipped into her own and Daena's small whimpers started to fill the air, (Y/n) couldn't help but cry. Her hand moved from Aegon's face to grab at his shoulder, then his arm and squeeze him as tightly as he had held her all night.

He did as he promised. He didn't let her die.

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #imagine #house of the dragon #pregnant! reader #pregnancy

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dark666posting · 4 months

Text

Obsession

TW: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON *** Flayed Billy, dark!Billy

Oops I started this story in like 2022 lmao. Here it is, more Flayed Billy™️

Happy New Year!!!

"Yeah? Well, next time you want your dick sucked, you can call Mrs. fucking Wheeler!" You screamed into the car before slamming the door with all your strength. You successfully held back tears as you stomped away from your now ex-boyfriend's car and shoved through your front door. In the Camaro, Billy sat fuming.

A common occurrence for him on the job is to flirt frequently with the older, married women. He never intended on going anywhere with it, until he did. And he got caught pretty quickly after. Billy's mommy issues tied him to the maternal comfort of older women, but you were the only woman he cared about. The only woman he wasn't letting get away. Breaking up certainly wasn't an option whether you knew it or not.

Billy tried to mentally talk himself down before he followed behind you. Your parents are out of town for the week, so he doesn't worry about being stopped.

"Y/N, can we please talk about this? I don't know what you think you saw-" his gaslighting is cut off.

"I know what I saw! Get the fuck out of my house!" You yell, throwing a book in his direction. The two of you weren't strangers to getting physical with each other.

"Hey!" Billy dodges the book, quickly turning to face you again. A look of pure anger is plastered on his face, but he remains poised as best as possible. "Darling, I am trying to fix this. We aren't breaking up." His voice trembles with the strain of withholding his rage.

"We are broken up. This is fucking over." You've never backed down from him before and you didn't plan on starting today. "As of right fucking now, Hargrove, I am single."

"Oh, you're single?" His voice is quiet and he's eerily calm compared to his struggle earlier. He steps toward you and at first, you stand firm, but the closer he gets, the more you shuffle backward. "You're single?" He asks again, expecting a response.

"Y-Yes. Just like you pretended to be." Billy slaps you across the face quicker than you could register, knocking you to the floor. "What the fuck?!" You clutch your cheek as a fiery sting spreads across your skin.

"Let me show you what happens to sluts that don't have boyfriends to protect them." He grabs you by your hair and damn near drags you to the couch. You kick and fight, doing everything in your power to loosen the pull on your scalp.

"Billy, stop!" You scream as he wrestles you onto the couch. He's exceptionally strong and you are no match.

"Look at you. This isn't even hard for me. You need me to protect you or else someone could have his way with you any time he wants." Billy's voice sounds like a taunt. He successfully pins your wrists together under one of his hands and the other starts to roughly rub your cunt through your jeans.

"What the fuck? Let me go, what are you doing?" You squirm and jerk away from him, feeling panic and pleasure as his hand creates friction against you. "Billy, please stop!" Tears well in your eyes. You've never seen him like this, and he doesn't seem to be letting up. He stares down at you with a blank, serious face. You beg him repeatedly with your eyes, wishing you would've just locked the door behind you.

"You're not safe without me. I have to show you." Billy's emotionless expression sends chills down your spine. It's like any part of him that held morals or empathy has been completely shut down.

"No, please," you whimper, but to no avail. Billy slips his hand in your pants, past your panties, slipping a long, nimble finger between your folds. You release a yelp, earning a small, short-lived smirk from Billy. He continues to delicately rub your clit, you melt into his touch before something seems to click in his mind.

"But this is how your boyfriend would touch you. Look how wet you are, you love it. Now I'm gonna show you how a whore gets fucked." Suddenly he tears his hand away, leaving you silently begging for contact. He effortlessly slips your pants from your body and tears your skimpy tank top in half, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You blush as your exposed breasts bounce from Billy's rough treatment.

You assume he's just going to keep toying with you. Another attempt to win you over with an orgasm as he had plenty of times before, even if this was a bit scarier. You're torn from your thoughts when you hear the sound of his belt buckle jingling against itself.

Your eyes go wide as he reveals his throbbing erection. He looms over you, stroking himself as he drinks in the image of you trembling beneath him.

"Billy, I don't want to have sex. Get out of my house. We aren't gonna fuck and pretend we're fine anymore-" he stuffs his length down your throat, cutting you off.

"I don't know how to make it any clearer for you, Y/N. You're too fucking stupid to realize what's happening. It's almost cute." Billy plugs your nose, effectively cutting off all your oxygen as he holds your head against him despite your arms swatting at him for dear life.

It finally dawned on you, that this was not his usual roughness and inability to take "no" for an answer. And you weren't about to get away from him. Panic takes over, controlling your next move. You try to kick and swat him away, but he's inhumanly strong. Stronger than what you're used to, you realize. When he finally allows you to take a breath you look up at him with watery eyes.

"Billy, please," you garble through the drool pooling in your mouth. Your jaw aches from the invasion.

"If you're not mine, I'll make sure nobody wants you," he growls as his expression grows darker. His eyes seem like they belong to someone else and small, black veins rise all over his skin. He looks like a monster, a creature you can't describe. You release a horrified scream before he jerks you from the couch and slams you down on the hardwood floor. Your head smacks the wood with a sharp thud, knocking your vision unsteady.

"Baby, listen. I-I'm sorry. Let's just fuck and make up, okay? Like we always do," you try so hard to reason with him as a sharp ache echoes through your skull. You're petrified, certain he's contracted some sort of rabies-like illness causing this outburst.

"Something's... Happening, Y/N." Billy stares off into the distance, looming over you. "I just... I just need to hurt you." The black, spidery veins beneath his skin grow darker as he admits his intentions.

"Please," you sob uncontrollably. "Please don't hurt me, baby." Billy ignores your pathetic pleas and stares down at your exposed supple chest. A primal, starving sigh exits his body and in the blink of an eye, his large, powerful hand is clasped tightly around your throat. You wheeze and gag, but to no avail, your oxygen is completely cut off. You're certain that with any more effort, he'd crush your windpipe like an empty soda can.

Billy's free hand slaps your breasts around and roughly tugs at your hardened nipples. Each touch he lays on you is sharp and jarring, devoid of any amount of love and care he barely showed even on a good day. You're clawing at his hand around your neck, turning all new shades of purple and blue and he holds you down. Slowly, your hits become weak and sloppy and your vision fades from blurred to black.

Once you're out cold, he tosses your unconscious body over his shoulder and lugs you into your bedroom. Not to be kind or show you any kind of comfort or mercy, but because the bed is the perfect height for him to splay your legs open and tear you to pieces.

He carelessly tosses you into the mattress, stroking himself as he watches you lie there, seemingly lifeless, wearing nothing but a pair of white lace panties. Those are short-lived as he effortlessly snaps the fabric from your body. You're his, completely. He wastes no time toying with you since you're already unresponsive, so he positions his cock at your entrance and shoves himself inside.

He's rough and unyielding as he bucks into you, forcing your body to lubricate his erection for easier access. You're still unconscious, unknowingly being fucked by your ex-boyfriend. He huffs and grunts like a wild animal, continuously readjusting his hands around your body parts for more leverage.

Your legs are lazily tossed over his shoulders, and he holds your wrists to pull you against him with each thrust. Suddenly, you wake up. All the violent fucking you'd endured before waking up seems to hit you all at once and you release a pained cry. The sound of your distress elicits a vulgar moan from Billy.

"Please, no! Billy, stop!" You whine, writhing and squirming against him, only stimulating him further. He moans some more, clearly approaching his climax. Finally, somehow, you're able to angle your leg to kick him away. You land a sharp, calculated kick to his jaw and he stumbles backward, giving you time to take off down the hall.

Billy screams your name like a monstrous roar, tearing through your home to chase after you. He knocks over shelves and side tables, breaking a lamp in the process. Your house looks ransacked. When he rounds the corner and spots you again, you're struggling to get the door open, loud sobs hiccup from your chest, and tsunamis of tears fall from your eyes.

"You're fucked now. That was me being gentle." He cracks his knuckles before slowly, confidently approaching you. You scream again in fear before finally getting the lock to unlatch. You frantically spill out the door and onto the porch. You're nearly off the last step when he grabs you by your hair, yanking you backward into him.

"Billy, no. Billy-" Your words fall out of you quickly with a more collected, serious tone to them as you begin to panic. You don't know if he's going to continue fucking you, or just kill you here on the front lawn. It's dark and your house is a little more secluded than most, something you saw as a good thing until tonight.

Billy holds you by the wad of your hair he's wrapped his hand in and your wrist, keeping you pressed flush against his broad, muscular body.

"I just need to hurt you." He echoes his own words before shoving you cruelly to the ground. You land on the front of your body with barely any time to catch yourself. The rough grassy yard is less than pleasant when it catches you. Billy swiftly climbs on top of you, pinning your arms behind your back and pressing his bulge against your ass.

He forces himself back inside your abused cunt and ruts into you like his life depends on it. You're right next to a road, but it's so late, that it'd be nearly impossible to see someone pass by at this hour. Until they do. You spot a set of headlights coming down the road and you try to thrash around to get their attention. Billy notices this attempted call for help and buries your face into the ground, continuing his mission.

As the car draws closer, you realize that it is too dark for you to see the thick shrubbery completely concealing you and Billy from the road. The car drives right past and you release a quiet sob into the dirt.

"No one's coming for you, Y/N," he growls between thrusts. Finally, his rhythm begins to waver. His breathing becomes labored and unsteady and he finally slams into you one last time, filling you up for a moment before he pulls out and finishes cumming all over your back and in your hair. He lays a brutally aggressive slap on your ass cheek and leaves you there. You hear his car start and pull out of the driveway, all the while you remain on the ground.

Silent, blank-faced tears fall down your face. You manage to peel yourself off the ground and drag yourself inside before the sun begins to rise. You sit in a warm bath, still in shock when you realize your hand is wandering to the sore opening between your legs. You can't help but relive every second he tore into you. You don't understand this feeling, but it brings you to orgasm in mere minutes.

The rest of the night you're anxious and afraid. Afraid he'll come back, or worse, afraid he won't. You recall all the parasitic veins spreading over his skin and you shudder. He's not well, and you were merely a casualty of that.

He just needed to hurt you.

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