#he did it as stress relief in his room when he was on his banishment ship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months

Text

CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed.

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh.

Right over his head.

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring.

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you.

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of.

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him.

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed Val coming into a room.

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants.

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with.

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach.

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin vox #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #my stuff <3

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

safe from heartbreak

pg x fem!reader

read part 1 here!!

yeah so here is part 2. it started off as fluff and then, by some kind of divine intervention, it became... the opposite. lol. bon appetite. any and all feedback is always welcome, thank you so much for all the love on part 1!!

this is based loosely on the song “safe from heartbreak” by wolf alice. it’s a bop just saying. warnings: 18+!! smut, angst :), a glimmer of hope, language, more questionable french (i’m so sorry i tried so hard lmao) 3.4k words

it had been months.

months without his touch, without seeing his face on the pillow next to yours when you woke up, without feeling the pleasure only he could give you. you’d struggled quietly through the winter break, doing your best to forget about him, despite shamelessly watching his instagram story. then, the car launches came along and by some miracle, you’d managed to avoid alpha tauri at all costs. the barcelona shakedown was another breeze, hiding out in your office at the track for most of it. you couldn’t face him, and luckily your job didn’t depend on it.

your luck ran out in bahrain. testing had been a disaster for many of the teams, and your job became incredibly stressful incredibly quickly. you had been in the midst of trying to solve a lot of behind the scenes problems when you saw him for the first time. you were a disheveled, overworked mess and he was angry at the piece of metal that alpha tauri expected him to somehow compete in. these used to be the perfect conditions for you to fall into his bed; you both needed some kind of relief. instead, you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the pit lane, looking through one another until a mechanic called for his attention and a whinging team principal called for yours.

the weekend went on just like that. somehow, you were always in his eye line and he was in yours. you never went within twenty feet of each other, no, that would have been far too difficult for your heart, but you were close enough. close enough to see the way his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to work you out, to see how exhausted he looked as he followed you with his eyes. from the way he was looking at you, a cautious longing, you knew that he was still stuck in that hotel room you’d left him in.

you were still there too.

the season progressed.

bahrain, to jeddah, to melbourne, to imola. you were grateful to be distracted from those blue eyes, thrown into your work. there was never a dull moment in formula 1. you were busy, constantly on the move, and that didn’t leave you with any time to think about a certain driver. you had almost no time to wonder where all of his one night stands were. you hadn’t seen him with a single woman all season. maybe they just waited in his hotel room now. maybe he was focusing on the start of the season. maybe he wanted you. maybe he didn’t. all you knew was that he was always alone in the paddock these days, looking solemn, draped in the latest neutrals from the alpha tauri collection.

you watched the rain fall from the dark italian sky, safe from the cold in the confinement of your office. thoughts of him were banished in this room. you were supposed to be finishing off your paperwork, but all you could think about was the shambolic qualifying that had taken place earlier that afternoon. your eyes were focused on the track, even in the darkness you could see the little puddles of water forming, making things uncertain, complicating things. that’s a problem for tomorrow, you decided. brushing your problems under the rug to deal with another day had become your specialty. however, it seemed that your luck had run out again. there was a problem quite literally knocking on your door that you wouldn’t be able to ignore.

you were frozen in place, watching him watch you through the glass panel in your office door. pierre. months of nothing had led to this, but you didn’t know what this was. why was he here? what did he want? what could he possibly have to say to you? there was only one way to find out. your feet carried you the short distance across the floor to the door. you twisted the handle, slowly, eyes locked on his as you did. you stepped back. he stepped forwards. he was in your office now, sharing the suffocating space with you. the door shut, slowly returning to its hinges. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. you had no idea what to do, or say, or feel. so, you just stared at him, lips parted, waiting for him.

always waiting for him.

he opened his mouth to speak. and then he closed it. he opened it again, only to close it once more. it seemed you were both in the same boat, at a loss for words. you noticed his hair was wet, as was his jacket. the rain in imola was unforgiving at the best of times, but especially so for sending him to you absolutely drenched.

he looked good.

no, no, no, shut the fuck up.

“what are you doing here? it’s getting late.” you broke the unsettling silence, finally.

“i could ask you the same thing, chér-“ he cut himself off, face falling flat as he caught himself. you exhaled shakily.

chérie. you’d missed that, almost as much as you’d missed him.

“you shouldn’t be here, pierre.” you mumbled, stomach dropping as your mouth formed his name for the first time in months. you sounded as pained as you felt.

“you shouldn’t have left that bed.”

silence. you scoffed.

“oh, i’m sorry. was i supposed to let you leave it first?” your words were drenched in disbelief.

“it was never my intention to leave you.”

“that’s funny, pierre. really fucking funny.”

he took a step towards you. you were too angry to move, feet stuck to the floor.

“nothing about this is funny.”

you glared at him. as if you didn’t know that.

“does it look like i’m laughing? god, why did you even come here?”

“do you know how many times i’ve had to stop myself from coming to you? every time i see you in the paddock, fuck, i have to force myself away from you.” his accent was thickening, his frustration increasingly evident.

“maybe you should try harder.” cheap shot.

“is that what you want?”

no!

“i don’t know what i want anymore.”

“well, what did you want?”

it was a good question. you furrowed your eyebrows. you didn’t know how to respond to him. you didn’t have an answer for him, even if he’d asked you back when you were falling into his bed every weekend you wouldn’t have known. you’d spent so long repressing your feelings that you didn’t even know what they were anymore. he took another step towards you, making you dizzy. you wanted to touch him and you wanted him to touch you and you wanted him to press you against the wall and remind you that you were still his.

were you ever his?

he was standing over you now. he raised his hand, grazing your arm softly and leaving goosebumps in his wake. you felt his hand grasp yours, pulling you further into him. you made no move to pull away from him, relaxing into him. you couldn’t keep up with his hands, one now resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, to gently tilt your head back.

his lips brushed over yours. once, twice, three times. it was tentative, soft, the both of you testing the waters, before you gave yourself over to him completely, and he did the same to you. the last kiss you shared in your office last year had absolutely nothing on this one. it was slow, getting deeper and deeper as your body moulded with his.

his hand that was on your waist gently worked over the fabric of your shirt, leaving your stomach in knots. his fingers travelled under the material until they rested against your bare skin. his hands were cold from the miserable weather but you didn’t care; he could touch you anywhere he wanted with them. he made no move to take it further, just pulling you closer. one of your hands was in his hair, threading through the strands as you got lost.

you stayed like that for a while. he kissed you and you kissed him, moving together in the middle of your office. eventually you had to part ways. his hand remained gently placed on your face, stroking your jaw. your eyes stayed shut, too scared to face him. you’d denied yourself of him, purely to shield yourself from any more heartache, and yet here you were, once again. it didn’t matter how much time had passed, you’d ended up back in his arms, just like the first time you’d tried to pretend you could go without him. you weren’t prepared to face reality just yet, almost wishing that you’d open your eyes and wake up from a dream.

except it wasn’t a dream. shades of the ocean swirled in his eyes as they met yours and you never wanted to see another pair again. no, you’d be content, grateful even, to just stare aimlessly into his forever and ever. it was time to face facts. you were well and truly fucked. you couldn’t be.

“i,” you were breathless, “i wanted you.” you whispered, almost ashamed of yourself for wanting someone that you’d shared with countless others.

“chérie,” pierre mumbled, pressing another kiss to your lips, “il n'y a que toi.”

you must have looked confused, desperately trying to remember any french you’d learnt at school. he laughed softly, watching your face contort as you’d tried to work out what he’d said.

“mon amour, there is only you.”

you kissed him again, suddenly desperate for more. more that you weren’t even sure he could give you outside of this moment, no matter what his sweet words told you. so you decided to take what you knew you could get. your kisses travelled to his neck, trying not to mark him by leaving delicate presses to his skin that made his eyes flutter shut. he wasn’t yours to claim. his hands dipped down your body until they were grabbing at the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up. your arms were thrown around his neck as he placed you onto your desk. you reached back, blindly swiping papers and pens onto the floor, hearing the clutter hit the carpet.

“is this okay?” he pulled away from your lips, thumb grazing your cheek as he asked for your consent. you nodded rapidly, guiding his face back to yours. you knew you had to take all of him in, trying to memorise the feel of his lips, as his fingers rapidly worked the buttons of your shirt. he worked down your neck, and across your collarbone, nipping your soft skin with his teeth.

he wanted you to wake up tomorrow with him on your mind. almost as if he knew too that this had to be that last ti-

you were broken out of your thoughts by his hand trailing under your skirt, grazing your thigh. two fingers ran over your clothed slit, rubbing at your clit through your panties. you moaned, bucking your hips into his hand, his tongue working across your collarbone making you shiver. he pulled his hand off of you, grabbing at the waistband of your skirt. you lifted your hips so that pierre could pull it off of you, taking your panties with it. you pushed your shirt off of your shoulders, loving the way his eyes widened as he took you in.

white lace. a matching set. his favourite.

it was almost as if you knew what would happen.

your eyes almost rolled back in your head when he dropped to his knees in front of your desk. he slotted himself between your legs, spreading you open for him. you leaned back on your arms so that you could watch him, and he leaned in, closer and closer to where you were dripping for him.

“eyes on me, chérie.” he winked, diving in.

he lapped at your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. he showed no apprehension, swirling his tongue just the way he knew you liked it. his eyes never left yours, driving you absolutely wild and you resisted the dire need to clamp your eyes shut and throw your head back. if you did that, you wouldn’t be looking at him.

you had to take him in this time, so that you could remember every little detail when it was over.

pierre didn’t let up. not once. he sucked your clit into his mouth, running his tongue up and down your slit like the sun wouldn’t rise again. he kept you pinned to your desk, fingertips digging into your soft flesh to stop the wild bucking of your hips. you couldn’t help it, he was always so good to you.

and then your reached your high and you were flushed, body glistening under the dull lighting of your office, hands threading unforgivingly through his hair, tugging at the strands relentlessly. you chanted his name over and over, praying that the building was definitely empty at this late hour.

when you thought he was done, he only kept going, fingers added to the mix this time. he slipped one inside of you, thrusting it lazily a few times, mouth still wrapped around your clit. you thought you would pass out. he added a second finger, curling it deliciously, stroking that spot inside of you perfectly. the angle of his fingers brushing against your walls finally had you crying out his name as your eyes screwed shut. you were about ready to collapse against the desk as he grazed his teeth against your overstimulated bud. you could feel his smirk against your pussy, branding you as his, just as your vision went white and you shook in euphoria for the second time that evening.

your body went limp against the the wood of the desk, eyes fluttering shut as your caught your breath. a low hum from in front of you caught your attention and you half opened your eyes to catch him licking his fingers clean. you shuddered. he walked around the desk, seating himself in your big, padded chair. he’d ridded himself of his clothes on the way around, sitting there in nothing but his underwear and that necklace that always stole the show.

“come here, mon ange.” he patted his thigh teasingly and you had flashbacks to the last time he’d wanted you perched on his lap.

somehow you peeled yourself off of the desk, swinging a knee on either side of his hips. the only thing you had left covering you was your bra, pierre’s hands trailing up your waist to the band of the lingerie. he snapped the clasp between his fingers, impressively undoing it and throwing away. too impressively. too practiced. you shoved those intruding thoughts away. you needed to enjoy this, no matter how selfish it made you.

you reached down to move his boxers out of the way, freeing his cock. he was already hard, leaking, ready for you, so you moved to line yourself up with him. just as your were about to sink down on him, he grabbed at your hips, holding you in place above him. just out of reach.

“tell me how much you want me, mon chérie.”

“pierre, please.” you whined.

“please, what?” he teased, trying to coax an answer from you. he moved one of his hands to run his tip through your folds, keeping you waiting. you were practically panting.

“fuck me, please, just fuck me. need you so bad.” you gasped out, trying to roll your hips in search of any friction.

“just like that.” he groaned as he guided you down on him until he bottomed out. he held you in place for a second, letting you adjust to him. you threw your arms around his neck and he brought his lips to yours, kissing you as you began to roll your hips.

“fuck, pierre, more.” you moaned, rocking your hips against his, burying him deep inside of you. he began to thrust his hips to meet your movements, hitting that spot inside of you that made you tug on the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. you knew you wouldn’t last long, you were far too sensitive after your first two orgasms, but you wanted to prolong this. you wanted to see him like this, feel him against your for as long as you possibly could. but you knew that he wouldn’t last either. this would never last.

you kissed him one last time, muffling your cries of his name and the whisperings of french sweet nothings that you simply couldn’t handle. it hit you both at the same time, helping each other down from your highs, bodies moulding together in a sweaty, languid heap.

the moment was over. it was over.

you stood from where you’d been straddling him, thighs burning as you collected your clothes from the floor. you tried not to think too hard about the way his eyes scanned your body as you redressed it with his favourite white lace. he stood up too, redressing himself in what he thought was a comfortable silence. you were anything but comfortable.

as you were buttoning the last few buttons of your blouse, he took a step closer to you. this time, you weren’t frozen in your place. you scurried backwards, keeping space between you. empty space that was somehow full of so many unsaid words. you averted eye contact, clearing your throat, desperately trying to swallow the lump in your throat that was jamming the words you needed to say.

“this has to be it.” you whispered.

“no.” his face crumbled.

“it has to be.”

“chérie-“

“no, pierre. don’t. you will always want more, need more. i can’t give you that.”

“you can. you do.” he sounded as desperate as he looked, forehead creased, hands reaching out for you in that big, empty space.

“i wasn’t enough for you before. why would this time be any different?” you would not cry. you would try not to cry.

“everything about this is different.” his voice grew louder, stressed by the brick wall you’d suddenly put up. how could he even blame you for doing that?

“it’s easy to say that now.” you spoke calmly, evenly, trying to banish your shaky breath. you had to face facts, you were still hurting.

“no. no. i’m in love with you.” you were pretty sure you heard your own heart shatter at his words. his beautiful, complicated words.

“don’t do this to me, pierre. don’t do this to yourself. please.”

“tell me you don’t love me. tell me and i’ll leave and i won’t come back. just tell me.”

“i need you to go.” it left your lips as a whisper.

“please.” you weren’t used to pierre being the one to beg.

tell him you love him!

“go.”

and he did go. the door slammed behind him. you watched him leave through that pane of glass in your door, storming off down the corridor and into the stairwell.

he always left. one way, or another.

maybe you’d forced his hand, but you’d saved yourself the pain of him making the decision of his own accord. you wouldn’t have been able to handle that, when it eventually came around. maybe it would have worked this time, for a week or two, maybe a month. but then what? what would have happened when he’d decided that this new arrangement didn’t work for him? when he realised he was trapped and couldn’t spread someone else out across his bed?

you’d decided your fate, not to be cruel to him, but to be kind to yourself. you hoped that he would be able to see that.

one day, maybe.

you couldn’t help but wonder why your kindness hurt so much. your heart was in agony, an excruciating ache settling throughout your entire body. what had you just done?

you turned around, wiping away a pesky tear that had dared to fall, staring once more at the dark, soaked track, riddled with puddles, like the ones you’d probably spend the next god knows how long forming with your tears. he was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

you’d made sure of that. there was no one else to blame.

not sure what i believe in

but i'll be safe from heartbreak

if i never

fall in love

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustinggold @vinvantae @chaoticallypan @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan

(my taglist got fucked up so… here it is lmao :D if you wanna be added or removed, lemme know <3)

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fluff #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 oneshot

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under-eye-bags-arouse-me · 2 years

Text

“She’s a Good Witch” Bruno Madrigal x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Bruno struggles to fall asleep, his nieces decide to take him to a Bruja, much to his trepidation.

Tío Bruno, you know these are sleeping hours, right?” Mirabel, Isabela, and Dolores all stood, very sleepy and irritated, in front of their uncle, who was currently trying to stuff arepas into his old, tattered poncho.

“Yeah, I know, but this whole ‘sleeping’ thing is kind of new to me, and also, I just wanted some arepas,” Bruno said while laughing nervously, rushing to catch the arepas that fell through the holes of his poncho. Ever since Bruno returned, his family, especially his mother, worked extra hard to make him feel welcomed back into the family.

During the re-construction of Casita, Bruno got a new room with no stairs, much to everyone’s relief, and he had his own bed, and his vision cave was even separated from his room so that when he exited it, he wouldn’t have to stress and could rest. While he was greatly appreciative of the effort his family was putting forth, his body and mind just wouldn’t allow him to actually rest.

“Guys, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Bruno tried to explain to his very unconvinced nieces, who had come up with a solution to their Tío’s insomnia problem.

“That’s it,” quipped Mirabel, “We’re taking him to _______.” All the girls nodded their heads in agreeance, turning to return to their rooms. While they turned on their heels, they felt Bruno’s presence close behind, his whispers turning into tiny shouts.

“________?!?!? Who’s _______?!?!? Where are they?!?!? Why are you taking me to them,” Bruno sputtered, trying to get all of his questions answered at once.

“She’s a bruja, she lives in the mountains,” replied Isabela, a smirk growing on her face at the thought of what Bruno's face must've looked like.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re taking me to a WHAT,” Bruno stammered, searching his ruana for a rosary.

“Oh, come on, we’re a family with supernatural powers, and you’re afraid of a bruja,” Mirabel smirked, teasing her uncle. “Besides, as fellow black sheeps, we have no room to judge anyone before meeting them, right?”

“Also, we haven’t seen her in a while,” Dolores added, smiling at the anticipation of seeing an old friend. “She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”

“Wait, when did you guys see a bruja?”

“We’ll see her later at sunset, I think that’s when she’s most active.”

"Hello? I'm asking a question?!?"

“Ooh, we get to see Pantera,” exclaimed Mirabel, excited to see their little furry friend once more.

“SHE HAS A PANTHER?!?!”

The girls all looked at each other, mischievous grins spreading across their face. Unfortunately, their uncle had given them an idea to torture his mind.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhh, it’s got fangs, and claws, and it’ll only let you live if it likes you,” whispered Mirabel, making little fangs with her fingers.

“It can smell your fear, too, so we suggest you man up overnight, Tío,” Dolores chimed in.

“Sleep tight, Tío,” said Isabela, leading the way for her sister and prima back to their beds, all of them laughing with their back to Bruno. Of course, them knowing the truth about you, they slept peacefully.

However, Bruno didn’t know you, and he didn’t think this was any laughing matter. As a matter of fact, he thought it was so unfunny, he stayed up all night trying to find the joke in all of this.

He laid awake, thoughts racing at the thoughts of possibly being mauled by a monstrous panther. What made you live so far from the rest of the Encanto? Were you banished there? Surely his nieces wouldn’t associate with someone that had to be banished, right?

“Bruno, hurry! She’ll be up soon,” Mirabel shouted with all the support her lungs would allow her. She, Dolores, and Isabela had all hiked up their skirts into their fists and bolted towards the top of the mountains. They couldn’t wait to see you!

Bruno, however, could. “That’s Tío Bruno to you, and there’s no need to rush, there’s plenty of time left,” he nervously chuckled out. Bruno was able to cope with some of the information his nieces had told him, like how you were a witch. Mirabel was right, he knew first-hand how it felt to be judged prematurely, but that still didn’t take the edge off of his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect, which only made his mind race that much more.

The closer they got, the more your cozy cottage adorned by vines came into view, and a garden of herbs around its perimeter. It was like a hidden treasure behind unkept, overgrown grass, and was ironically squared neatly away in an old picket fence, the white paint chipping off. You even had a rickety little swing door with a heart-shaped hole carved into it. Cute, right?

As Isabela and Dolores made a loud commotion struggling to open your fence, Mirabel decided to just jump over it all together, tripping in the process.. Bruno was baffled by his nieces’ sudden lack of composure, and athleticism, as they were so giddy and bouncy like they’d been trapped inside all day.

When they looked up, there you were, smiling at them wide while standing in your doorway. It seemed their racket tipped you off, and you kept the same energy as them.

“MIRABEL, ISABELA, DOLORES,” you shouted, running toward them at full force. First, Mirabel wrapped herself around your waist, then Isabela, and the Dolores, knocking you all down into the grass. You all only had the energy to lay there and hoot and holler in laughter.

“Mis bebés, cómo estás,” you asked them, suffocating them with hugs and kisses them all over their cheeks and noses. It felt like years when you were apart, even if you were only a mile away. But no matter how long you were apart, you could always pick up where left off last.

“A little sore, but who cares, we're here! We waited all day to come see you,” piped Isabela, who was still trying to sit up from her giggling fit.

“Why all day?”

“We brought our Tío Bruno,” replied Dolores as you helped her stand up. “He hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s over the-....where’d he go?”

“Tío Bruno,” called out Mirabel. Right where Bruno had been standing was a flattened spot of grass with the basket of goodies they had brought you. There was an uncle on the loose.

“Tío Bruno, where are you,” called out Isabela. “We have someone who wants to meet you.”

While the four of you were searching for him, he had turned right back around and started walking home. Once he saw the door open, his nerves had gotten the best of him again. Plus, he saw how excited the girls were to see you, and he didn’t want to interpose on your fun. He decided he was just fine, after all, he just needed to adjust to being home.

However, he didn't get too far, as he was stopped dead in his tracks by what felt like something rattling his shins, and when he looked down to see what, or who, liked his legs so much, he was met with the purr of a black cat, who sat on his feet and looked up at him and greeted him with a tiny “meow.”

“Oh, hello,” he said, slightly unsure about where this cat came from or if he should look for some salt to throw. He crouched down to let the cat sniff his hand, and it was warmly welcomed, as the feline began brushing up against his forearm, bringing a small smile to Bruno’s face.

“I think she likes you,” you shouted from the top of the mountain, startling Bruno and forcing and giving himself whiplash. Upon your appearance, the cat trotted up to you, doing the same thing it did to Bruno’s legs to yours. “Where’d you go?”

“Oh, I was just making sure the girls got here safe and all. They seemed so excited to see you, so I was just going to leave and let them enjoy their time with you,” he said, a sad smile forming on his face.

“No, please, come in! I’ve been anticipating a visit from the Bruno Madrigal! Besides, Dolores told me all about your sleeping problem.” A clever smile played on your lips, as you watched his heart fall into his stomach. He cursed his niece's inability to keep anyone's confidence.

He was snapped out of his mental lecture by you descending towards him, extending your hand out for him to take. As you got closer to him, he took in more of your appearance. Your palenquera slid off your shoulders and you created a slit up the skirt that allowed you to move more freely and be more in touch with your practices. Bruno devoted his attention to the crystals and jewelry adorning your waist and thighs. He took in the features of your face, how long your lashes were and how they perfectly framed your eyes. He also began tracing the outline of your lips, how soft they were and, most importantly, curved into a smile for him. Not only was he afraid of you, but he was also attracted to you.

He reached out for your hand, slightly trembling, and it almost broke your heart. You pulled him with an excited jolt towards your house, earning a surprised yelp in response. You couldn’t help but notice how he looked at you. He'd respectfully looked away when caught, but he’d stare at you and his gaze would glaze over, like he was entranced by you. You could tell he didn’t get out much. You decided at that moment to show him the best time of his life.

“I found him, he was trying to escape,” you snitched, snickering at his flustered expression, not knowing how to respond.

“Tío Bruno, tsk tsk. She’s going to take great care of you,” chuckled Isabela, smiling like a madman. “Oh, and we see you met Pantera.”

“That’s the panther?!?!?”

“So, uh, how long have you been practicing Brujería?” Bruno was following close behind you, trying not to wet his feet in the river as he helping you scavenge for herbs. The nieces suggested Bruno go out and "help" you. He was hesitant, insisting he didn’t want to distract you from work, until you reassured him, saying that you “wouldn’t mind the distraction,” giving him a sly wink that made the nieces “ooh,” and waggle their eyebrows at their Tío.

“Well,” you started, standing in the river hoping to find some Clary Sage, the last ingredient for the blend. “Mí abuela was a bruja, and many people had misconceptions about her practices. They thought she was evil, so they’d wish maldades on her. One day, they made her so ill, I thought she’d die. But, she taught me how to care for her using Brujería, and she recovered faster than I’d imagined. I’ve practiced ever since,” you explained, smiling warmly as you thought of your grandmother.

“See, we’re not as scary as you thought before,” you teased, earning a shy smile from Bruno. “And don’t be so distant, I don't bite,” you laughed, splashing him out of his self-pity.

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear about that, I’m glad she got better,” he replied nervously, embarrassed about his opinions of you earlier.

The two of you had wandered your way all the way to a nearby river, still with no luck in finding the Sage, but to be honest, you were okay with that. That meant that you could spend more alone time with Bruno, in addition to continuing to flirt with and fluster him.

"Hey, don't start something you can't finish," joking as he splashed you back.

"Who said anything about not finishing," splashing a larger wave at him this time.

"You wanna bet?" Soon, it went from "who can make a bigger wave," to "hope you don't drown!"

You thought you were for sure winning, until Bruno stopped playing fair and grabbed your arms, forcing you stop.

"Let go, you're cheating," you squealed.

"Sorry, can't hear you, there's WATER IN MY EARS," he jokingly reprimanded.

You two shared a hearty laugh, but as you two caught your breath, he started to stare at you again, this time not even trying to hide it.

You two were drenched, clothes clinging to your bodies. Your dress wrapped around your moonlit silhouette, hugging the curves of your breasts and hips. Him, his graying curls hung wet over his eyes, and his shirt showed off the soft ripple of lean muscle.

He was so close, his emerald eyes taking in every inch of you. The way he looked at you made you feel naked, vulnerable. But for him, knowing his intentions, you were okay with that.

You just decided to just go for it, intertwining your fingers in his curls and kissed him. Without hesitation, he followed suit, his hands finding your waist and deepening the kiss. After a moment of mindless indulgence, you both pulled away in realization. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you apologized, not wanting to scare him away. “No, it’s fine. I wanted to do that, actually” he smiled, looking down at his fidgeting hands. You both just smiled at each other, and you both actually considered moving back in until you heard, “_______! Tío Bruno! Where’d you go? Are you two getting along?” Mirabel was screaming for you two, and the two of you realized how much time had gone by. You both laughed at each other and turned to head back home. Of course, when the nieces saw you two drenched in water, their Tío’s hair disheveled, and the slight tint of red across your cheeks, they knew exactly what went down, and they couldn’t help but bust out laughing.

“Bye, _______, we’ll miss you,” Mirabel whined, poking out her lip in a pout as she gave Pantera one last rub down her back.

“You don’t have to wait so long, I don’t exactly go anywhere,” you laughed as you walked them out. You gave Mirabel, Isabela, and Dolores each a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, and that left Bruno last, a small smile on his face as he looked at you. “Thank you, I appreciate all your help today,” he began, his nieces watching you two in the background. “We should get going, huh,” he laughed, rubbing his arm. Smiling warmly, you gave him a kiss on his cheek and gave him a tight hug. “Get home safe,” you smiled up at him, leaving him blushing and flustered on your doorstep. “Come and visit anytime.”

Bruno’s nieces teased him all the way home that night, saying “ Tío ‘s got a crush on _______,” and “Tío’s got a new girlfriend!” Of course, he brushed off the teasing, playfully reprimanding them. But he couldn’t help but think about you all night, about when he’d see you again. You made him feel young, again, so warm and fuzzy and he even had a sweet dream involving you.

A/N: First fic on this page and first fic in a looooong time, so may be a bit rusty. This was all written in good fun, and I may update it later when I’m more awake and better with words, lol. In the meantime, I do feel like the ending could've been drawn out more, but again, was sleepy and wanted to put this out. Let me know what you thought, and hopefully, I’ll be able to continue the Bruno fanfics. Thanks for reading! :)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

P.S. Primary blog is @that-freaky-mysterious-one , so replies to comments will be from that account.

Update: I changed the third part of the story, I felt that not enough happened in the original part, so I added some stuff, lol. Hope you like it! :D

#bruja #brujería #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #tio bruno #mirabel madrigal #isabel madrigal #dolores madrigal #fem!reader #bruno x female reader #bruja!reader #cute #fluff

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wallflowerimagines · 3 years

Note

I love your writing so much, it's very great! Anyways, can you make one with the lords with a s/o who can see ghosts, but everytime they see one they tensed up ? Thanks alot! <3 <3 <3

In a horror game???? With a horror villain s/o?????

Anon, you are so brave 😔✊ let's get spooky.

Alcina Dimitrescu

There are SO many ghosts in Castle Dimitrescu. And they're all so LOUD.

The majority seem to be victims of House Dimitrescu. All of them drift through the air, drained and skeletal, eyes sightless, and they just wail non stop. The wailing itself is actually kind of a lower volume, but because there are so many ghosts around, the sound layers and echoes through the space until you can barely hear yourself think.

They remind you of jellyfish in a way. They just aimlessly drift through the air, clothes billowing around them, sliding through the walls. Constantly screaming.

You actually prefer the ghosts of the victims of the Cadou experiments. They might be horrible, shuffling abominations of flesh and oozing blood, but at least they're quiet.

Alcina notices you flinch without any kind of visible stimulus, and immediately gets suspicious. She pulls you into a room and demands an explanation of your behavior.

If there is a problem, she's going to fix it.

When you tell her about the ghosts, her lips press into a fine line. You mean to tell her that these worthless wastes of space are crowding her halls, polluting her home even after their death?

They dare to not only crowd the noble house of Dimitrescu under her nose for years, but they're bothering you while they do it?

Yeah, Alcina is Furious.

She gets a couple exorcists on Retainer. Every month or so, priests of various religions are paraded through the house and cleanse the place from top to bottom. She has you follow them around and check their work, too. If any of them happen to be charlatans, they'll just join the horde of ghosts. No skin off her nose.

It is a little annoying that she has to hire even more people to clean up the mess in her Castle, but Alcina is a highborn lady. Any kind of clutter (living or dead) is unacceptable. Her home should be pristine.

Besides, her favorite reward is seeing you fall asleep in her arms, entirely peaceful. You had been so obviously stressed by the situation. It's such a relief to have you relaxed and calm once again.

Donna Beneviento

When Donna finds out you can see ghosts, she gets a bit ...manic.

This is a woman who lost her entire family, and is unable to deal with grief in a healthy way. She's constantly in mourning garb, and her veil rarely comes off. Hell, her grief was the catalyst for her current hobby-- which is what turned it into a hyperfixation.

I'm not going to lie to you, this revelation puts your relationship on pause. She's going to use you to get what she wants, and she wants her family back.

Donna pulls out all the family photo albums and portraits. She coaches you on her mother's laugh, her father's focused expression. She gets the projector and plays you home movies to show you how they walk and talk. Anything she can show you to help identify the ghosts of her family, she does it.

If you tense up, Donna gets so excited. Is it someone she knew? Her sister, maybe?

Unfortunately, most of the ghosts around are Donna's victims. They huddle in the corners of her home, rocking back and forth in terror, clawing at the walls in a futile attempt to escape whatever horror they've been eternally trapped in.

Sometimes, at night, you hear soft whimpers and scratches at your door...

If there is a ghost that isn't a member of her family around, Donna gets frustrated with it. She will banish any ghost that isn't a member of her family, or a member of the previous staff that could help them in the afterlife.

Eventually you need to sit her down and have a serious conversation with her. You're not something she can use to connect to her family. You might be willing to help, but all she's done lately is treat you like an object, not a partner. It has to stop.

It's the wake up call Donna needs. You both hold each other and cry for a long time, because the last thing she ever wanted to do is hurt you, but... She misses them. So much.

You still look for their ghosts for her, still tense in the hallway, but Donna stops asking you to describe them to her. She trusts you to tell her if they look familiar now. She can be patient.

Salvatore Moreau

Fish man might have been a doctor once, but he is a Small Town Doctor from a small fishing Hamlet. I don't care how much "logic" and "reason" you might think he has. This man is SUPER-fucking-STICIOUS.

Salt over your shoulder, four leaf clover carrying, fear of curse having man DOES NOT LIKE the idea of being haunted.

The ghosts of the reservoir are extra spooky too. Some of them are mid-mutation from the failed Cadou experiments...But the drowning victims are more common.

There aren't many ghosts around, but when they do appear, they're bloated, skin slipping off their bones, clothes dissolving around them as they glide through the air. They move much slower than other ghosts too, like the fact that they died in the water has permanently trapped them in that state.

If you tense up out of nowhere, Moreau does too.

What did you see?? Are they close?? Do they look bound to an object??

Salvatore will turn into his giant fish form and yeet anything that you might feel to be haunted over the mountain range. He takes no chances with that shit.

You two both are regular customers of the Duke's specifically for new exorcism methods. The Duke doesn't scam you guys either-- he provides candles, scriptures, holy water, perfumes, all of it works to keep the spirits at bay.

You and Moreau will walk around the reservoir, on guard for any hauntings, and clean up any area that might possibly have a ghost attached to it. It's a incredibly weird and very niche bonding experience.

By the end of the day, the reservoir is the least haunted place in the whole Village. Just how you and Salvatore like it.

Karl Heisenberg

Eat my ass, spirits

Heisenberg is not afraid of ghosts. He actually makes fun of you a little bit for even believing in them, until he sees you tense up out of the blue.

He trusts you enough to know you're not lying to him, so he knows that you are seeing something. He just doesn't know if they're really ghosts.

There aren't as many ghosts in the factory as there are at the Castle, but there is still quite a few.

A lot of them are missing limbs, unsurprisingly. They gasp and scramble around, eyes (if they are even there) bulging out of rotting faces as they scan the surrounding area for their missing pieces. They scuttle around like spiders up and through the walls, poking their heads into random rooms and constantly searching for something, anything to make them whole.

The worst thing about them is that they ALL scream when they see Heisenberg. It's not even a wail like from a normal ghost-- this is a full on shriek of rage and grief. They know who he is. They know what he's done. And they can't do anything about it.

Is it any wonder that you tense up all the time?

After you describe the ghosts in more detail to your partner, Heisenberg sets his jaw, gets pissed, and finds a way to exorcise the lot of them. While he can't see them, you can, and they might make you think less of him. He can't have that.

Plus, they're obviously bothering you. Karl does not tolerate some dumb spirits harassing his partner. If he has to nail a couple crucifixes to the wall and get a spray bottle of holy water, he will.

He also sees if he can kill his victims in an isolated section of the factory. Maybe having one specific room might limit the range on these things? It also makes for easier clean up.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #ghosts #SPOOKY ASKS are AWESOME #can you tell I loved describing the spooks? cuz i did

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taehyungssss · 3 years

Text

into the forest - m

word count: 3.6k

genre: smut 18+ | royal, faerie, forbidden love

pairing: fae!jungkook x fem!reader | hoseok x fem!reader (previous)

summary: as the second princess of the human kingdom, you know to fear the fae, they did wage war on your people for one thousand years after all. what happens when you meet one in the forest, and they aren’t what you imagined?

warnings: mentions of war, slut-shaming (in passing), smut scenes, mentions of rough sex/spanking, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), outdoor sex, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie

a/n: this is my first bts fic so i hope you enjoy it! thanks to all my friends for reading it and giving me feedback, you’re the best

Never trust the Fae, that’s what everyone always told you. They’re tricksters, they’re evil, all they care about is corrupting humans, and you believed them. Why wouldn’t you? As a child you were told tales of the terrifying Fae with their leathery skin, red eyes and big black horns. You would wake in the night crying for your nursemaid, afraid that there would be a Fae under your bed.

The Fae were not of legend though, they were very real, you knew this from your family history. You were not an ordinary child; you were the Second Princess of the human kingdom. Your father and mother were King and Queen respectively, and your older sister was the prized Crown Princess. Four hundred years ago your ancestor, the then King, had ended the one-thousand-year war which had occurred between your kingdom and the kingdom of the Fae. He had agreed with the Fae King to end the exhausting warfare on the condition that neither people would breach the others’ land. Since then, each community had kept to itself, neither interacting with the other, but the horror stories of the Fae remained as a cautionary tale to the brave few who wished to seek them out and break the peace.

You were currently stressed beyond belief by the trauma that was the organisation of your sister’s marriage. As the Crown Princess, therefore the next in line to the throne, she had been betrothed to the most respectable and handsome man in the whole kingdom, Lord Kim Seokjin. Your parents decided that at 23 years old it was time for your sister to finally be wed to her fiancé, and that meant hours of planning and protocol. Being the Second Princess, you were to be the maid of honour, and the dress fittings were beginning to wear you down.

Another cause of stress was that you would be the next to be married. You were yet to be betrothed to anyone, probably because your father viewed you as damaged goods after the incident with the Chief Knight, Jung Hoseok. A couple of years ago, after too much wine at a festival ball, you snuck away with Hoseok to an inconspicuous corridor. The drink had blurred both of your minds and your lips had become entangled in a passionate kiss. You still remember his lips caressing your neck and your begging of him for more. This led to your father, the King and ruler of all, finding you with Hoseok’s hand up your skirt. He definitely wasn’t pleased.

Your father had to be held back from punching Hoseok in the face and the next morning he had the guards practically drag the both of you to a private room for a discussion. He decreed that this brief relationship was not to continue under any circumstances, and if you were caught again Hoseok would be banished. Of course, you didn’t listen, but after a few months the relationship fizzled out, the thrill of getting caught wearing thin. Now Hoseok was married to a beautiful maiden, but you remained on good terms.

Part of you wished you could’ve married Hoseok, at least then there wouldn’t be any nerves. The prospect of being married to someone you were incompatible with made you cringe and feel a little sick in your stomach. No other man had ever made you feel anything, they were either too irritating or too arrogant, and you found yourself fatigued with having to dance with a different suitor at every ball, if only you could marry yourself.

This is how you found yourself riding your beloved horse, Bramble, into the Border Forest. There was nothing better than a good ride to relieve stress. However, you must have gotten carried away as you now found yourself in a part of the forest that you didn’t recognise. The flowers were different here and you couldn’t remember if you passed the red handkerchief that you’d tied to a tree many years ago to alert yourself that you were near the kingdom border. You see, the forest was generally out of bounds as it was close to the Fae kingdom, but you bent the rules on a regular basis, always making sure to stop before your self-placed marker so you didn’t accidentally break the peace treaty. Before you had a chance to panic even more, a voice called to you.

“Lost?”. You looked up to see a tall man with a mullet of black and blue hair in front of you. “Oh, thank goodness,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought I had wandered into the kingdom of the Fae.” The man frowned slightly. “You are in the lands of the Fae,” he replied. You froze, you must have gotten very carried away on your ride to come this far out, but the sight of a fellow human calmed you slightly. “Could you please lead me back to our kingdom?” you asked. “Our kingdom?” the man looked puzzled. “This is my kingdom.” “But you’re human?” you half-asked. The man shook his head and smiled slightly. “No, I am Fae,” the man clarified.

You suddenly felt incredibly nauseous. How could this man be Fae? Where were his red eyes or big horns? This man didn’t look like a monster, in fact he was beautiful, ethereal and enchanting. “You seem shocked,” he said. You nodded. “You don’t look like I imagined,” you replied. “You know? The leathery skin and red eyes.” The man laughed heartily. “Is that what they tell you in the human kingdom?” he asked through his amusement. “That’s funny. I look like a typical Fae. No red eyes here. I’m Jungkook by the way.” The man, Jungkook, outstretched his hand. You looked at it for a moment before shaking your head, unwilling to touch your enemy.

“I will not tell you my name, all you must know is that I’m the Second Princess of the human kingdom,” you said in a matter-of-fact way. Jungkook laughed again, much to your irritation. “Continue back the way you came, Princess,” you tensed slightly when he used your title, it slid from his tongue in the most exquisite way. “You will soon be back in the human lands. By the way, I am the Second Prince of the Fae. If you’re curious about what other lies your people have told you about mine, meet me here in two days’ time at sundown. I will answer any questions you have.” You didn’t answer Jungkook, fear of his kind still coursing through your veins. You merely nodded, mounted Bramble and rode back home. You told yourself there was no way you would meet Jungkook again, but you couldn’t deny how your heart pulled you towards the idea.

Despite your brain telling you to stay away from Jungkook, either your heart, or something else, pulled you towards him. Two days after your initial meeting you stood in the spot where you first met. He was yet to arrive, and you were beginning to feel uneasy. It was dark and the sounds of unfamiliar wildlife were putting you on edge. Then you saw a figure approaching, Jungkook. He was illuminated by a swarm of floating lights; it was a mesmerising sight.

“You came,” he said, his mouth forming a smile. “I did,” you replied, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders. As Jungkook came closer you noticed that his hair was behind his ears, this was the first difference you noticed from yourself, his ears were pointed. “Your ears,” you said. “They’re pointed.” “They are,” Jungkook spoke warmly as he moved closer. “It’s a Fae characteristic.” He came to a stop two steps in front of you, the lights still swirling around him. “How are you doing that?” you motioned around him. “The lights?” “They’re fireflies,” Jungkook replied. “Fae are a lot more in touch with nature than humans are, that’s how we get our magic.” He moved his hands in circular motions and the fireflies spread out around you both, illuminating the area you inhabited. “Please sit,” he said, lowering himself down on the grass. You nervously followed his lead, still questioning why you were here with your ancestral enemy.

“Will you tell me your name, Princess?” the prince asked, the use of your title giving you shivers once again. You stayed silent for a moment. “Y/N,” you replied, shuffling your feet in the grass. “Y/N,” Jungkook repeated. “I like it.” You didn’t really know how to respond, so you settled for nodding, another silence falling on the two of you. “I’m guessing you came because you have questions,” he said. “So, ask me something.” Plucking up your courage you decided on a question that had been troubling you since you had left two days previously. “Why didn’t you tell your king that I trespassed on Fae lands?” you asked cautiously. “It breaks the peace treaty and we’re enemies.” “Are we?” Jungkook asked immediately. “Unless I’m wrong, I only met you two days ago Y/N. How can we be enemies?” You shook your head in frustration. “You know what I mean, we’re ancestral enemies,” you bit back quickly. “You could’ve told the king and declared war on all humans by now, but you didn’t.” Jungkook smiled. “I didn’t tell my father because you obviously came here by mistake, and I’ve never met a human before,” he said. “You say we have leathery skin, but we say that you have no light within, that you’re a barren and cold people.” Your eyes widened. Of course, you knew that the Fae must have stories about humans, but you didn’t expect them to be so philosophical.

“Am I then?” you said nervously. “Am I barren and cold with no light within?” The prince looked you up and down in a way that gave you goosebumps. “No,” he finally replied. “If anything, you’re radiant and lush. Life courses through your veins.” A feeling you hadn’t experienced since your dalliances with Hoseok took hold of you. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t look Jungkook in the face. “Please don’t feel uncomfortable in my presence,” he reassured you. “I want to learn more about you, and I sense you wish to learn more about me. I promise not to tell my father if you promise not to tell yours.” He held his hand out to you. “I promise,” you responded, taking his hand in yours. It was warm and soft, it was comforting. Even after letting go you could still feel a tingle where he had touched you. You were in trouble now.

Every week at sundown you and Jungkook would meet in the same place in the forest. On the fifth visit he had been giving you a more in-depth explanation of how Fae magic worked. “We draw our magic from nature,” he said softly, gesturing to the trees all around you. “We can use it to fight, but we can also use it to heal and even create.” He cupped his hands together for a moment, before opening them to reveal a beautiful purple flower. Your eyes lit up in amazement as you marvelled at the bloom he had made from thin air. “For you, Princess,” he said, holding out the flower for you. You took it from him and inhaled the fresh scent exuding from it. “Thank you,” you replied, looking Jungkook directly in the eyes. Not for the first time you contemplated how beautiful they were, like swirling galaxies pulling you closer to him.

You both stayed still for a moment, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. You felt an overwhelming feeling of safety whenever you were with him, he was of great comfort to you, and now looking into his eyes you felt like you could float away into the clouds. Suddenly Jungkook moved his hand to cup your jaw, brushing his thumb along your face softly. “May I?” he asked. Your stomach erupted into butterflies, surely, he couldn’t be asking to kiss you? “Princess, may I kiss you?” he clarified after taking in your confused state. You nodded, dumbstruck, as he moved closer to your lips.

Jungkook’s lips were soft and warm as they caressed your own, his hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You melted into the kiss, amazed that this beautiful creature was actually in your arms. All too quickly Jungkook pulled away, taking in your flushed face and puffy lips. Before you had a chance to complain he pushed his lips against yours, more harshly this time. Gaining more confidence, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck. Jungkook brushed his tongue against your lips and you opened them to allow him in. The feeling of your tongues intimately brushing together gave you a light feeling inside and simultaneously made you feel hot, this never happened with Hoseok.

After an unknown amount of time, it could’ve been minutes or hours, you both pulled away. “I…” you began, at a loss for words. “Thank you.” “My pleasure,” Jungkook replied, stirring feelings within your core. “Your lips are divine, as is the rest of you.” You felt a blush rise on your cheeks as you looked at the ground. “Please don’t look away, Princess,” he said as he grasped your hands. “I like you and I wish to show it. If you would rather stop these meetings then we can, but I would rather we carried on.” You looked back up to his face, he was smiling softly, and his galaxy eyes were glimmering. “I want to carry on too,” you said, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

Each week the meetings and kisses continued, and you felt yourself falling more and more for Jungkook. Your previous ill feelings towards the Fae had vanished and you wanted nothing more than to be in the arms of your Fae lover at all times. On the twelfth visit you once again found your lips locked against his as you laid beneath him in the grass. This time it was different though, his hands were caressing your body more intensely than usual and you were beginning to feel hot.

Jungkook pulled away, foreheads resting against each other. “Y/N,” he began. “Have you ever been touched by a man?” You felt the colour drain from your face, he could probably sense you sullied nature and no longer wanted anything to do with you. “I have,” you replied cautiously. “Just one. I’m sorry.” Jungkook frowned. “Don’t apologise,” he said, softly brushing your jaw with his thumb. “I’m not pure either, but people don’t fuss over it with men like they do with women. It doesn’t matter to me either way.” Relief washed over you as you heard his words, Jungkook didn’t think you were damaged goods, he still wanted you. “May I touch you, Princess?” he whispered in your ear. Shivers of anticipation travelled down your spine as you nodded fervently.

Jungkook’s hand moved to your clothed breast as he began to massage it, a smirk appearing on his face as you let out a soft moan. He quickly untied the fastenings at the back of your dress and pulled it down to your waist. His mouth kissed where his hand had just been, eliciting louder moans from you as his tongue flicked at your nipple. As he kissed your breasts his hand moved further south, finding its way underneath your dress and on bare sex. “You’re so wet,” he murmured approvingly. “Is this okay?” he asked as he began to rub the bundle of nerves that brought you immense pleasure. You nodded quickly, moaning as he quickened his pace.

The prince stopped his movements and you let out a whine of disappointment. “Let’s get this dress off you properly,” he said, pulling the material from your body. Jungkook was still fully clothed and you suddenly felt very exposed. You reached out and he allowed you to remove his shirt, but you weren’t prepared for what was underneath. You let out a gasp at how incredibly toned and muscular he was, your hands running across his abs. “Like what you see, Princess?” he smirked. “Yes,” you purred as he laid you back down on the soft grass, positioning himself between your legs. Suddenly his mouth was on your most intimate area, his tongue lapping at your clitoris. You moaned wantonly, gripping at the hair on his head. You had never felt such pleasure in your life, and your moans became louder and more frequent as you felt the familiar coil in your core begin to tighten. Jungkook slowly pushed a finger inside you, it felt incredible. “Don’t stop Jungkook,” you cried. “More… Please…” You looked up and saw him smirk as he pleasured you. He added another finger and curled them, hitting the spot inside of you. The coil tightened and tightened until it released, and pleasure flowed through your veins and you screamed out your lover’s name.

Jungkook wiped your wetness from his mouth and began to kiss you. Being able to taste yourself on his tongue was incredibly erotic, and you found your hand travelling down to the hardness at his crotch. He suddenly grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Tonight is about you,” he said. “Let me pleasure you.” He pushed you back onto the grass and removed his trousers and undergarments, releasing his impressive length. You panicked slightly at the sight of it, he was bigger than Hoseok. “You’re so big,” you whispered. Jungkook smiled widely at the compliment. “Yes, but I know you can take me,” he replied reassuringly. “Do you definitely want this?” You nodded and he grasped your thighs, moving them apart. He lined himself up at your entrance and held your hands as he pushed inside. It stung a little as you weren’t used to his size, but after a moment you began to feel comfortable. “Please move Jungkook,” you whimpered.

He began to move within you, leisurely thrusting in and out. His manhood brushed against the sweet spot inside you and you clenched around him, letting out a moan.

“You feel so good,” he said breathlessly. “You’re taking me so well.” His compliments brought even more pleasure to you and he softly held your hands as he brought you closer and closer to orgasm. Sex with Hoseok hadn’t been like this at all, he had been more concerned with taking you roughly from behind and leaving red handprints on your derriere. Something about treating the Second Princess like a common whore had thrilled him, and you were more than happy to indulge him. However, sex with Jungkook was pure lovemaking. It was gentle and soft, you truly felt safe and on top of the world.

You felt yourself getting closer towards release, and Jungkook sensed this from your vice-like grip on his cock. He moved his hand to your clitoris and began to rub fast circles upon it. You gasped and moaned at his touch, taking in his sweaty and downright hot appearance. His mullet was beginning to cling to his forehead and his abs were rippling as he thrusted into you. “Jungkook,” you whined wantonly. “I’m so close.” The pressure in your core was becoming unbearable and you felt yourself hurtling towards release. “Let go for me Y/N,” he leant down and whispered into your ear, keeping up his pace. Your orgasm immediately washed over you, your womanhood pulsing around him as you let out a moan. His hips stuttered slightly, and he managed a few more thrusts before releasing his seed inside you.

Both of you looked at each other, beaming from ear to ear. Jungkook planted a sensual kiss on your lips before pulling away, pressing his forehead to your own. “That was incredible,” he exclaimed, brushing your hair from your face. “It was,” you gasped, still catching your breath. “Jungkook…” “Yes,” he answered. “What’s wrong, Princess?” You were silent for a moment. “I think I love you,” you said nervously, looking away from him. His fingers pinched your chin and turned you back to face him. “That’s good,” he smiled. “Because I think I love you too.”

Six more visits had transpired since the first time you made love, and each time you found your limbs entangled with his, gasping with pleasure. You were becoming more and more fearful of the concept of marrying a stranger chosen by your parents, you only wanted Jungkook. Your parents had not sensed your distress or your weekly disappearances, too wrapped up in planning your sister’s lavish wedding. However, it turned out that you had also become distracted from something of note.

One of your maids entered your chambers. “Your highness,” she said, a bundle of cloth in her arms. “I’ve brought your rags for your monthly bleed. You hadn’t asked me for them, and it slipped my mind. If I’m right, your bleed should’ve started two weeks since? Is everything okay? Should I call a man of medicine?” You could feel the colour draining from your face and nausea filling your stomach. “It’s okay,” you lied. “I got them myself two weeks ago, I was in that part of the castle.” “Oh…” your maid frowned. “Forgive me, your highness, I am glad all is well. I’ll leave these rags in one of your draws for next time.” “Thank you,” you said, relieved she has believed your terrible untruth. Your maid was right, your monthly bleed had been due two weeks ago, but it hadn’t come. The truth sank heavy on your shoulders, Jungkook’s seed had taken root and you were pregnant. You were pregnant with Jungkook’s baby. You were pregnant with your ancestral enemy’s child.

END

feedback is always appreciated! please don’t repost or translate my work

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #fae!jungkook #fae!bts #bts fae au #bts royal au #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook #bts #bangtan #taehyungssss

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sassyhobbits · 3 years

Note

for one night standards would you write a scene where aelin cant be found in the castle maybe bc shes doing sth ridiculous with her daughter like a mother daughter photoshoot to surprise rowan with later but when rowan can't find her he gets all panicked and out of his mind bc he still has unresolved trauma from when she was kidnapped and its all angsty until he has both back in his arms but also gives rowan a chance to talk and work through his experience with aelin gone? (because lets face it he probably ignores his feelings about that as much as possible in order to not burden aelin further and because it was just too painful)

loved this idea!!! i also added the prompt “Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again“ Thank you to everyone who supported ONS!! i had such a fun time writing it and im always happy to come back to it. enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was generally a patient man.

He knew how to wait his turn, to take his time. He was always one to raise a brow at those who seemed to be in a harried rush to everything. It seemed stressful, to say the least. He was perfectly content to sit back when needed.

Except for now.

He had made a trip back home to Doranelle to surprise Isolde for her graduation from her masters program. Aelin had wanted to come as well, but with the baby and the responsibilities she had back in Orynth, it just hadn’t worked out. Still, she sent her well-wishes to Isolde through a video chat, letting little Eliora babble into the camera and say hello as well.

Their daughter was just over six months now, already growing far too fast for Rowan’s liking. He treasured every moment he got to spend with his two favorite girls.

And although he was always happy to see his family back in Doranelle, it had been the longest he had been away since Eliora had been born. It made him highly impatient to return home.

His jet touched down in Terrasen in the early afternoon. It was summer, though the day was mild. The sky was a vivid blue, fat white clouds floating lethargically on the breeze. Absolutely beautiful.

Due to the time difference, he hadn’t been able to call Aelin before he had got on the plane. He tried to reach her as he slid into the dark sedan that would drive him from the airport to the palace, but all he got was her voicemail.

Maybe she was in the shower, or changing Eliora’s diaper. Maybe their daughter had a finicky night of sleeping and now the pair were trying to catch up on their slumber. It was fine. Or so Rowan told himself. He still hadn’t been able to stop the small clench of nerves at the pit of his stomach.

He scolded those foolish feelings. Of course his wife and daughter were safe. They were just waiting for him to return.

The drive was quick and easy and he was back at the palace before he knew it. His feet carried him towards the room he shared with Aelin, a small smile curling on his lips as he thought about having his wife and daughter in his arms once more. He missed the feeling of Aelin curled against him as they slept.

“Aelin?” he called, pushing into their room and nudging the door shut behind him. “I’m home.”

He was greeted by nothing but silence. No sound of running water in the bathroom to suggest a shower, so soft snores or shifting sheets meaning a nap. He strode into the bedroom, finding that the bed was already neatly made, not a thread out of place.

He dropped his bags by the dresser, noting that Aelin’s phone had been left there, face up. He picked it up, seeing that she still had the notification of a missed call from him and a few miscellaneous emails that hadn’t been checked.

“Aelin?” he said again, moving towards the nursery. He had gotten used to the sight of Aelin sitting in the rocking chair with Eliora, either when the babe was hungry or she just wanted to hold her daughter. Rowan had countless pictures on his phone of the two of them in that position. The sunlight streamed from the window and hit them just right in the mornings, making them look like a painting.

But the nursery was empty and the window was shut.

Those nerves reared their ugly heads once more. He had no reason to assume the worst, the palace was one of the safest places in the kingdom.

But… Aelin had once been snatched away from him on palace grounds. During their own wedding.

Rowan shook himself. No. That was the past. This was now.

Since his wife didn’t have her phone, he knew it would be fruitless to try and contact her that way. But, Rowan knew Aelin better than he knew himself.

He began a sweep of the palace, checking out her favorite haunts. The library was a bust, so was the gym. He had checked the kitchens to see if she had swooped in for a snack or something sweet, but she wasn’t there either. Rowan luckily ran into Aedion, asking the prince if he knew where Aelin was. But her cousin hadn’t seen her at all that morning.

With each failed attempt at finding them, Rowan’s fears steadily crept up. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him deep into their depths.

He took a long breath to center himself before striding out into the gardens. His heart started beating faster, not seeing any sign of her at first. Rowan’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stepped over fresh, green grass. Gods, where were they? If something had happened to them…

But before Rowan’s fears could conquer him, he heard a soft voice on the summer breeze. A familiar voice at that. Relief washed through him, heavenly and soothing, as he followed that melodic sound.

It was Aelin. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was reading one of Eliora’s favorite books to her. It was a silly tale, and it was made even more vivid when Aelin told it. She was an excellent story-teller. They didn’t know how much Eliora really understood, whether she just liked the brightly colored pictures or the faces her mother would make when she told it. Regardless, it always made the little princess smile.

Rowan rounded a hedge, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight before him.

Aelin had spread out a large quilt under the shade of a willow. Some of Eliora’s toys were scattered about, but currently, the toddler sat in her mother’s lap, wide-eyes glued on the book before her.

Rowan couldn’t help but think Aelin looked stunning today. Her golden hair was left loose, swaying on the breeze, the summer sun bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky, pale blue wrap-dress, bare feet tucked beneath her as she read. Eliora looked mighty charming too in a bright pink dress with a matching bow.

Rowan strolled towards them, Aelin’s eyes jumping towards him as she noticed his presence. A huge smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You’re home!” she greeted, putting the book she had been reading aloud down. Eliora, no longer entertained by her mother’s storytelling, crawled over the quilt to grab one of her brightly colored toys. “I thought you were going to call me when you landed?”

“I did, Fireheart,” Rowan said. He lowered herself behind Aelin on the blanket, his wife situated between his legs, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and tugging her back into his chest securely. “You left your phone in our room.”

Rowan placed a lingering kiss on Aelin's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. She was safe, in his arms, Eliora happy as can be, sticking her toys in her mouth. Everything was fine.

Aelin turned in his arms slightly, brows knitted slightly. Rowan knew she could see right through him.

“What is it, Ro?”

“It’s nothing, love.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Don’t you lie to me, Buzzard.

Rowan heaved a sigh, reaching out and brushing some of Aelin’s silky hair behind her ear. “It’s just… you didn’t answer me when I called, and I couldn’t find you and Eliora when I got back. I just couldn’t help but think…” His hand drifted until it rested on Aelin’s abdomen, right over the scar she bore from fighting her way to freedom. He saw understanding on his wife’s face.

“We’re here, Rowan. We’re safe.” She placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s cheek, bringing his gaze towards her.

“I know,” Rowan whispered, jaw clenched. “But sometimes, I just worry that when I open my eyes, this will all turn out to be a dream. And I’ll lose you all over again.”

Aelin took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is real, Rowan. We both fought for this life, for each other. And nothing, nothing, is going to take it away. Ever.”

Rowan saw the determination blazing in Aelin’s eyes. She was right, of course. This was their life now, they had built their happiness bit by bit, even when so much seemed to want to go wrong. But Aelin and Eliora… they were everything to him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to banish his fears entirely, but he would treasure every moment he spent with them.

Rowan leaned in, kissing Aelin softly before murmuring against her lips, “I missed you.”

She smiled, kissing him again. “I missed you too, Ro.”

They indulged in a few more slow, sweet kisses before loud babbling sounded, tiny hands twisting into Rowan’s trouser. He looked down, finding Eliora’s wide eyes looking up at him, flashing a gummy smile.

Aelin laughed. “It looks like someone else missed you, too.”

Rowan grinned, reaching out and picking up his daughter. He held her up high, making her release the sweetest little laughs, little legs kicking in delight. He kissed Eliora all over her little face before tucking her in one arm, throwing the other around Aelin. Immense love and devotion flowed through him, holding his two girls close.

No wonder why he had been so impatient to get home.

#rowaelin #my writing #one night standards #its cute :)#love this au #what if i just changed the names and some details and turned it into a book

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Only For A Moment: August

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: July

Note: I’ve had a super busy day, but I wanted to get this posted so I edited it really quickly. Please forgive me if there’s any little mistakes!

Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented! Hearing your thoughts really makes my day!

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August 2020

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually enjoys moving - especially if that move involves a three year old who feels the need to be very involved in the packing, but is also incredibly easily distracted. And even more so when that child's father is almost just as distractible and, despite his insistence that he'd stay focused, does more to hinder the whole operation than help.

That was the situation that I found myself in at the end of the first summer of the pandemic because we were moving in with Chris.

While I was hesitant at first, it made the most sense and neither Grayson nor I were particularly eager to return to our tiny little apartment. I still felt that it was pretty early in our relationship for us to be living together, but we'd survived so far and moving back seemed like it would do more harm than good. Grayson had settled in nicely at Chris' house and another big change - like making him go back to having two homes - seemed like it would be very disruptive.

But moving came with it's own challenges.

After our conversation a few months earlier, Chris had told all of his most trusted friends about our change in relationship status. That came in handy as a few of his buddies - who had trucks - had volunteered to help us move things the last weekend of August, but packing had me feeling overwhelmed. I'd managed to give most of the furniture away - between our friends and Chris' family - but we still had way too much stuff.

It was on that Saturday morning that I found myself sitting in the middle of Grayson's old bedroom almost in tears. I'd packed up his mountain of toys the night before only to find Chris and Grayson unpacking several boxes the next morning while I was trying to finish up in the living room. Apparently, Grayson had wanted a certain toy that I'd already packed and instead of telling him to wait because he had several other things to play with that weren't boxed up, Chris helped him look for it.

He was trying to be helpful, thinking that repacking a few things would be easier to deal with than a meltdown from Grayson, but it had been a long, tiring week as I tried to get everything organized and their actions almost pushed me to my breaking point. I scolded them both and banished them to the little playground just outside the building while I set to work cleaning up their mess.

Almost twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door as it creaked open. I poked my head out of the room I was in - ready to send the boys straight back outside - only to see Chris' oldest and closest friend, Tara. She was masked up for safety and knowing how sweet and helpful she was, she was a refreshing sight. I'd met her several times, mostly when Grayson was a baby and I lived with Chris, and she'd been a calming and encouraging presence back then so I was definitely relieved to see her during another time of high stress.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought supplies," she informed me, holding up a tray of iced coffees. "Chris called and said that he thought you could use some help."

"You're a lifesaver," I groaned with pleasure as she put down the tray and handed me one of the drinks. "I need this, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she returned my smile. "How's the packing going?"

"Not bad now that the boys are outside," I laughed. "It's pretty much all done, I think. You never realize how much junk you have until you have to pack it all up."

"Oh my god, I know. We moved last year and it felt like the piles of things we had to take was never ending."

"It's crazy," I agreed. "Especially with all Gray's stuff. I thought we did a good job of not spoiling him, but he has an insane amount of toys."

"I can imagine," she cringed. "But I have no plans all day so just tell me what you need help with and I'm all yours."

I thought for a moment as I sipped the coffee she'd brought me until I had an idea.

"Actually..." I started, feeling a bit sheepish. "Would you be willing to take Grayson for a bit? I know it's a big ask, especially while he's so excited, so feel free to say no."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to take him!"

I let out a breath of relief as I felt my body relax.

"Thank you so much. I really need Chris to help me carry these boxes and he's been so preoccupied with Grayson that he's been no use at all," I explained. "It's a big change and he's worried about him being freaked out by it all, which I totally get, but I need him to focus a bit too."

Tara laughed and shook her head.

"I get it, don't worry. I know what he can be like," she assured me. "I'll go down and get Gray now and send Chris up here."

"Thank you. You're the best, Tara."

She waved off my gratitude and insisted it was no problem before leaving me to turn my attention back to what I'd been doing before she arrived.

Once Grayson was in the safe care of Tara, Chris was much more useful. We were packing things with impressive speed and when it was almost time for his friends to show up with their trucks, we started moving things down to the lobby of the building to make the loading process quicker.

I was a tad nervous about the whole situation as I hadn't spent much time with most of Chris' friends and I didn't really know what they thought of me. I hoped they'd be understanding of our situation and give me a chance, but if he really had been pining away for me all these years - thinking that I didn't want to be with him - I worried that they'd think I was selfish and heartless.

Those worries, combined with my stress about getting everything organized, had me still feeling rather on edge. It didn't help that the creepy maintenance man that I'd warned Chris about was watching us like a hawk. I could feel his eyes on me every time I stepped foot in the lobby and the sensation made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get it all done and over with as fast as possible so we could get away from him, but Chris had clearly noticed him too and I could feel his annoyance rising as well.

He held it together until our last trip down when our spectator really crossed a line. I was bending over to place some boxes on the ground when I could have sworn I heard a groan of pleasure from behind me. I snapped back up to standing and looked over my shoulder to see the man with a smirk on his face and his eyes fixed on me. It made my stomach churn, but Chris was immediately by my side, his arm sliding around my waist. Before I could even question what he was doing, he pulled down his mask and then my own, cupped my jaw with his hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

It was a rather passionate embrace and I was surprised as he usually wasn't one for public displays of affection. Then it hit me why he was doing it and I felt a flash of annoyance run through me as he pulled away. There was a smirk on his face as he rested his forehead against mine, but all I could muster was a frown.

"Do you think he got the hint?"

I scoffed at his question.

"I think he got enough pictures to pay his bills for the next few months," I huffed, keeping my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard. "Are you done marking your territory now?"

Chris looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I sighed as I slipped out of his grasp and headed to the door. I wanted to see if his friends had arrived yet and get away from the creep, but Chris followed and wasn't prepared to let our conversation drop.

"What, so I'm not allowed to kiss you in public in case someone sees?" He asked once we got outside, his own annoyance coming through. "I thought you didn't care if people found out about us?"

I stopped walking and spun around to face him.

"I don't care," I snapped. "But I'd rather not give some pervert the chance to profit off of us just to save your wounded pride."

Even with his mask pulled back up, I could see Chris' jaw clench with frustration.

"He was being disrespectful. I was standing right there and he moans while staring at your ass? C'mon, he's a fuckin' asshole."

Another flare of anger washed over me as I fought to keep myself calm enough to explain to him why what he'd just said was almost as frustrating as the actions of the man who'd been ogling me.

"He was being disrespectful," I agreed, my voice steady despite my rising temper. "But to me, not to you! It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, he shouldn't behave like that towards any woman! I don't deserve to be respected because of you, I deserve to be respected because I'm a human being who has a right to feel safe in their own apartment building."

Chris' shoulders dropped as he took in my words and visibly calmed down, but I was still feeling wound up.

"Shit, Winnie, you're right," he relented. "I don't want anyone to treat you like that ever, not just because you're my girlfriend. It just pissed me off that he had the balls to do that even in front of me."

"So kissing me like that to send him a message was the best solution you could think of? Like, 'don't touch this one, she's mine'. It made me feel gross. I don't need you claiming me in public to scare off creeps, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris insisted, looking slightly wounded by my scolding. "I'm sorry, I was being an idiot."

"Okay," I shrugged, somewhat blowing off his apology. "We should go to the parking lot. Your friends might be here."

"Are we good, Win?" He asked, clearly not as eager to let the subject drop. "I want to make this right if you're upset..."

"I'm fine," I sighed, knowing that was only half true. It was only half his fault though, the stress of the day overall was more to blame and, at that point, I just wanted it to be over so I could have a nice big glass of wine. "Let's just go see where your friends are."

He didn't argue as I walked off and when we turned the corner into the parking lot, his friends were all there lined up in the visitor's spots. I forced a smile despite the fact that it was hidden by my mask and waved as we walked over.

"Hey!" I greeted them. "Thanks so much for doing this. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries!" Jon assured me. "But, are you really sure you want to move in with this guy?"

"Yeah, we were just talking," Zach continued. "And it feels a bit Stockholm syndrome-y. He confines you to a house and suddenly you fall in love? Seems a bit suspicious."

"Wow, guys, glad you're on my side," Chris laughed. "I wouldn't have asked you to help out if I knew you'd try and change her mind!"

"We just want to make sure we're not committing any crimes here," Luke insisted. "I don't want to be an accomplice to anything and we're all scratching our heads about what she could see in you."

Chris shook his head at their teasing and I tried to push our earlier discussion from my mind as I giggled and slid my hand into his. I felt him tense up in surprise at the gesture, but he relaxed as I squeezed it and leaned against his arm.

"There's no Stockholm syndrome here," I assured them. "It just took a pandemic and the constant threat of impending doom for me to come to my senses. I'm just lucky Chris was silly enough to wait for me."

Chris chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of my head as his friends rolled their eyes.

We quickly went over the game plan for the day once the initial greeting was over and as soon as his friends turned to head towards the building, I dropped my hand from Chris'. I knew I was being petty and sulky and from the sigh that fell from Chris' lips, he did too, but I couldn't help it - I needed some space to work through my cranky mood on my own. Luckily, Chris seemed to figure that out pretty fast and left me to my brooding as we followed his friends and got to work.

It didn't take us as long as I expected to load all the boxes into the trucks, but that was probably the benefit to having a team of strong men helping you move. Once it was all unloaded into the spare bedroom at Chris' place where I had been sleeping at the start of the pandemic, Chris broke out a few beers for his friends and fired up the grill while we waited for Tara and Gray to arrive. It was a beautiful, warm evening and perfect for an impromptu barbecue to thank all Chris' friends and it was a great opportunity for me to bond a bit more with some of the most important people in Chris' life.

Grayson knew them all better than I did, but we had some concerns that the lack of socialization would make him nervous around the now somewhat unfamiliar faces. But he put those worries to bed almost as soon as he arrived as he was the life of the party. He was thrilled to see the three men who were sitting in the lawn chairs dotted around our yard - in an effort to keep everyone somewhat distant from each other - and the cheer they let out as soon as they saw him made me think they were just as excited. They seemed to really adore him and he thrived on the attention. It warmed my heart to see the genuine care they all had for Grayson - it was wonderful to know he had so many people in his corner - and I was relieved when that care was extended to me.

Any doubts that I'd had about them accepting me were quickly pushed from my mind as they seemed to be just as eager to get to know me as I was to get to know them. They were all lovely, kind people and I wondered why I ever expected anything else from the people in Chris' inner circle.

They left as soon as Grayson's bedtime rolled around - partially because we were all tired from our long day of moving boxes and partially because we all knew there was no way that Gray was going to agree to go to bed while the party was still going. Once they were gone, he demanded Chris tuck him in so I tidied up in the kitchen while he handled bedtime.

As soon as I'd finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher, I felt his arms around my waist.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"You don't need to thank me," I smiled, turning in his arms so we were face to face. "It's my house to keep clean too now, even if that's still weird to think about."

"Weird in a good way?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "It's felt like home here for a while now. It would have been awful to go back to that little apartment."

"It would have been weird for me too," Chris agreed. "I can't imagine being in this big house without you guys anymore."

"You'd have to move all your friends in," I teased, using it as a segue. "Who, by the way, are all very nice."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "You think so?"

"I do. I was a bit nervous about it," I admitted. "In case they resented me for how our relationship unfolded, but they're great."

"They never resented you at all," Chris chuckled. "Pretty much everyone who knows about our first night together was on your side about that and they've been pushing me to make a move ever since."

"Well, that's good to know."

Chris nodded and continued.

"They all really like you. Jon gave me clear instructions to not fuck it up."

I laughed at that, but felt a wave of relief.

"I appreciate their support."

"Well, you definitely have it."

Chris leaned down to press his lips against mine and I melted into his body, feeling the exhaustion from the stress of the day start to hit me. We stayed like that, just holding each other for a few minutes until Chris broke the silence around us.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

My stomach churned with embarrassment at the memory, but I nodded.

"Of course, we can. I'll start by saying that I'm sorry."

Chris leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at me with his confusion written all over his face.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" He asked. "I brought it up so that I could apologize to you."

"You don't need to," I assured him. "I get why you did what you did. I just don't deal with stress very well and the whole day was overwhelming me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You don't deal with stress very well? I never would have known!" His words were laced with sarcasm as he smiled down at me and I laughed, gently smacking his chest in protest. "But seriously, I deserved a good scolding. You were absolutely right with what you said, I shouldn't have handled the situation like that."

"I appreciate that you can see where I was coming from," I sighed. "But there is no perfect way to handle a situation like that, really. It's best just to ignore it, but then it feels like you're letting the gross guy win."

"Well, if we're ever in a situation like that again, I'll follow your lead," he insisted. "But I can't say that I'll just ignore it. I might just punch the guy out for being a creep."

I laughed again before shaking my head.

"And then whoever is watching will have a different kind of picture to sell to the trashy magazines."

Chris cringed at that comment.

"I'm sorry. Do you really think he took pictures?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But if he recognized you then I'd be surprised if he didn't."

Chris nodded, clearly getting lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

"And you really don't care if proof gets out that we're together?"

"I don't," I insisted. "I don't like the idea of some pervert making money off of us, but I don't care if people know we're together. It might be good for people to get used to the idea now, when we're hiding at home all the time anyway. By the time we can go outside again, no one will care enough to take pictures of us."

"That might be wishful thinking," Chris smiled. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of the spotlight."

I matched his smile and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

As I predicted, the creepy maintenance man did take pictures of us and he did sell them to some trashy magazine. The internet was horrified, the hearts of fangirls all over the world were broken and I was called every cruel name under the sun. There were rumours that I trapped him with another baby and rumours that I was a gold digger - just using Chris for his money so I didn't have to work during the pandemic. The general reception to the forced confirmation of our relationship was pretty abysmal, but nothing worse than we expected and at the end of the day we didn't care.

All the people who truly cared about us were happy for us and that was the most important thing.

September

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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passable-talent · 4 years

Note

Request for a Zuko blowjob.... Our fire prince receiving? However you wanna do it 💜😝 I'm just thirsty af

y’all are gonna get me horny. all characters are of age.

happy 1000 follower special, sorry it took a while, hope it was worth it.

Fire Lord Zuko needed a break- you could tell.

It was one of the things that he liked about you, that you could just sense it, when there was too much energy or stress in his muscles. It was like an innate superpower of yours, or maybe you just spent a little too much time paying attention to him and so you learned his body language.

You were a servant at the palace, high in the ranks through sheer hard work. You had been born with no status in your blood, and so you kept your head down and proved your worth, your talent, your skill. You’d been brought to the palace of the Fire Lord when you were ten to study under some of the more important servants there, those entrusted to keep state secrets while passing them between generals and sometimes even the Fire Lord himself.

You’d crushed on Prince Zuko from afar. You’d witnessed his banishment. You waited for him to return, knowing, hoping, that he’d be the one of royal blood to fix the monstrosities hiding behind these walls.

And when he came back, eight years after you’d first come to the palace, he was pretty much everything you’d hoped he would become.

The thing about being a high ranking servant is that you can sometimes subvert the delegated work patterns. For instance, on days like this, you often used the evenings that you weren’t required to work to snatch the Fire Lord’s dinner from the servant who was supposed to bring it to him, and took it to him yourself.

Genius, isn’t it?

“My Lord,” you said, head bowed respectfully at the doorway of the Fire Lord’s study. He often spent his evenings here, catching up on the schooling he’d missed, spending three years at sea. Even now he looked stressed, his shoulders tight as he leaned over the dark wooden desk. He looked up to see you, and the slightest bit of relaxation let his arms lower, but there was still work to do.

“Come in, Y/N.” You stepped into the room, placing his dinner before him on an empty portion of the desk. Every staff member who worked with him personally, he knew by name, but his knowledge of you went a bit deeper.

You turned, putting your back to the Fire Lord just briefly to slowly close the door. It made a soft noise, soft enough that it wouldn’t draw attention, nor did it shatter the atmosphere of the room.

“You have a lot on your mind, Fire Lord Zuko,” you said, leaning back against the door with a bit of a smile on your face as you looked at him. He ate lightly, delivering the chicken filled dumplings to his lips even as he continued reading the parchment strewn about in front of him. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his mouth- he had nearly colorless lips, which would make one think that his lips were thin. But you knew better.

You stood against the door, patiently, as he finished his meal, though his focus was on his paperwork until the very last morsel. Once he had, you pushed off from the wall with your shoulder blade and approached his desk.

You could be much bolder, now that this was an established pattern. You knew your forwardness was accepted, even appreciated.

When you reached the desk, you let your hips press against it, leaning over. Your left hand boxed in the dishes his meal had left behind, and with a tilt of your head you pressed a finger to his papers, though not the one he was currently scribbling on. You moved it around, slowly, catching his attention, bringing his gaze up to your sly smile.

“I really don’t have the time,” he said, and his voice was quiet enough that you could tell he regretted turning you away.

“I was merely collecting your dishes,” you answered cheekily, lifting up the tray you had set down and walking back to the door. When it was halfway open, he called out.

“Wait,” he said, and paused to lower his volume. “You’re going?”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any time?” You asked, coyly, and reveled for a moment’s pause in the red that rose on his cheeks. “Don’t worry, your majesty, I’m coming right back. After all, I’ve heard that something very important needs to be discussed with you.”

He recognized the meaning of the words. It was your own personal code, a phrase that you often used when trying to hide your true intention.

You knew better than to sprint. It would draw attention, and leave you out of breath. But you wanted so desperately to hurry, to return, and so you took every shortcut you could manage, tightly rounded every corner.

When you returned, you found him once again engrossed in his papers, but with your arrival he brightened and his focus shifted to you. He stood, grace aiding his movements, but you recognized the rush that normally accompanied this kind of meeting. You closed the door, and practically dove around his desk to slot your lips with his.

You wanted to pull and tug at his hair, but you knew better. So you let your fingertips play in those strands that hung loose from his topknot and let the rest of your hands frame his face, holding his jawline. His hands, too, started at your face, but as the insistence of the kiss built he let them wander down, to where he tucked them into the curve of your lower back, pulling you closer to him. With a quick smirk you pressed into his mouth, you used the opportunity to roll your hips into his.

He didn’t quite... moan. But he broke his mouth from yours and looked down, pressing his forehead against yours briefly while seeming to catch his breath.

You smirked.

“Yeah, you need this,” you said, voice low but all the same confident as you shoved his shoulders back, moving him out of your space. You took stock of his robes, recognizing the royal outfit and how to properly dismantle it. Though you were nearly an expert in fire nation royal clothing by now, it didn’t stop you from only taking it all halfway off.

Why do the whole job when half is enough?

His hipbones were close to the surface of his skin, though his muscular physique would prevent from calling them ‘defined’. Nonetheless, you took hold of them and spun him, pressing him back against his desk. This gave him something to lean against- which he needed, as you sunk to your knees.

It was a slow, purposeful movement, your descent to the floor, your eyes not breaking his for an instant the whole way down. One hand held onto the desk to keep your movement smooth but the other left it’s trail from his hipbone, down over his thigh, even as it intersected with drooping fabric.

His eyes were almost wide as he watched you, but his heartbeat was steady- he trusted you. He knew you well, and you him.

“Okay?” You breathed, a straightening of your back bringing you closer to where he wanted you, where you wanted to be.

“Yes,” he breathed, and finally you broke your attention from his eyes and focused it wholly on his dick. He was half hard already, something you would work with. You had a tendency to tease, to string him out, make him wait. There was almost a philosophy behind it- the more worked up he got, the more stress the subsequent relief would wash away. And so you never went right into the main event, instead choosing to spend plenty of time in the preliminaries.

First, you decided to break the perfect, pale skin. You dug your fingernails into his hipbones and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his v-line, the flesh there soft and hydrated, but just underneath was firm as iron. His fingers curled around the edge of the desk, keeping his hands out of your way and anchored, as though keeping him grounded in the moment here and now. You sucked, insistent, for a few seconds, leaving the beginnings of a mark before moving on. Really what you wanted to pay attention to was a little higher, at the base of his abs, and you caught just a bit of skin between your front teeth and tugged forward, letting it release on its own with a quick exhale from Zuko, and you could hear in the raspiness from deep in his chest that he was getting quite worked up. Satisfied with the small teeth marks you’d left, you moved on.

A snaking hand of yours slid up his thigh and back to his hip bone, the skin so smooth and soft, and you watched as his member jumped in reaction to a hand coming so close. You smirked, and a brief glance up to his face confirmed what you already suspected- his eyes were closed, emotions such as pleasure, temptation, frustration, and resistance flitting through the expressions he made. It made heat pool between your hips- but this wasn’t about you.

You decided to give him some relief, and one hand wrapped around his member slowly, fingers curling one by one, the delicacy of such a movement ubsurd for the situation. He let out the air in his lungs in the form of a moan, breathy and subtle, but music to your ears all the same. You began sliding, back and forth, grip strong but not tight, leaving him in the perfect limbo between pleasure and frustration. His abs stretched further as he leaned back, hands leaving the edge of the desk to brace his shoulders with his palms flat on the surface of the wood.

You felt little twitches in his hips, like he wanted to pick up the pace, and with a devious smile you loosened your grip.

Immediately his gaze connected with yours.

“What?” He asked, and you smiled.

“Taking a small break, you don’t mind?” The teasing lightness of your voice made him all the more frustrated, because he knew you weren’t being serious, as he was rock hard against his own abs.

“A break? Y/N, please.” And though that was the word you wanted to hear, the statement-like delivery of it made you want more, and you stood up, your closer hip pressing against the desk and leaning over him, taking his member back into your hand with slow, languid strokes.

“My lord,” you said, voice low, seductive, smooth, “you’re at my mercy, tonight, aren’t you?” His gaze searched yours, golden eyes looking up at you with an expression as though he were trying to read your mind behind your eyes. Finally, he broke eye contact, and looked down at your mouth.

“Yes,” he whispered, and it brought a smile to your lips.

“Then you need only ask,” you said, picking up speed with your strokes to bring panting into his breathing and moans into his words.

“Please,” he moaned out, and you sunk back to your knees again, your hand stilling at his base while you looked up at him, and smiled.

“Yes, my lord,” you said, and slipped your mouth over his member. You didn’t take it all the way, not at first, merely brought it to your tongue and began wetting it with saliva, giving the head a bit of suction from where it sat just behind your lips. His moan, at that moment, was louder than any other from the night, and if it wouldn’t have ruined your technique, you would’ve smiled.

With every bob of your head you took in more of his member, readjusting the position of your tongue. At first it became a barrier in the back of your mouth, but you fought your impulse and slid it along his undervein, making his back arch even further. His thighs flexed and tightened under your fingers, telling you along with his nearly constant thread of moans how much he was enjoying your treatment. You twisted your neck upon the final pull up and the opposite way on the sink back down, increasing the friction that he experienced. You still didn’t quite reach his base- he was just a bit too big for that.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, and a smile tried to pull at your lips, even though you were otherwise occupied. His moans were almost constant, broken through by your name. Finally his hand left the desk and buried into your hair, gripping tightly but not painfully. He began tugging, but instead of pulling you closer, as you would’ve expected, he was pushing you away.

“Y/N, I’m gonna-“ You realized the point of his motions and fought them, the stinging of your scalp nearly pleasurable as you battled to stay close to him, sinking your lips over as much of him as you could access.

“Y/N-“ he began, attempting to warn you again, but you once again pressed close and recieved it as he came, in the back of your mouth. You took it, as usual, and swallowed before it could hit your tongue. Slowly you pulled off and waited until he cooled down before standing. He had let his head droop back, hanging limply off his shoulders, chest rising and falling with labored, intense breaths. He didn’t re-emerge into reality for a good many more seconds, and when he did, his shoulders were noticeably looser than they had been in the afternoon.

“Sleep well, your majesty,” you said, and it was more an order than a well wish. You pressed a kiss to his temple as he panted, and you left him alone to deal with cleaning up the mess.

-🦌 Roe

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

Text

lamentation | FOUR

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,907

warnings: angst, talk of death/tragedy, a little fluff

18+!!! minors stay away

At school the following week you were more than a little embarrassed. Peter Parker had seen you outside of school twice, and both times you'd been a crying, hysterical mess. Granted, you were a hysterical mess all the time anymore, but you usually kept that very well suppressed. Then along came Peter, and suddenly there was another person outside of your family who knew just how messed up you were.

He didn't mention it, which you were thankful for. You could see that he was concerned, though, with the way his eyes seemed to linger on you during every silence. His worry and pity only made you more resentful of the things you had shown him.

You'd shown up to school the morning after he showed up in your room, and you weren't at all surprised to see him lingering by your locker with an antsy jitter as he rocked back and forth on his feet. What had surprised you, though, was the fact that once he saw you were present he simply nodded at you and walked away. Was that his idea of a truce? An understanding?

Whatever it was, you had been thankful for it. The last thing you had wanted that morning was to talk to Peter, knowing he'd certainly want to talk about the events of the night, and you were relieved to get a little break from his constant presence. He still sat by you in classes, but he didn't pester with you his usual chatter, nor did he follow you to your locker even once.

The trend had continued for most of the week, and you had to admit you were starting to feel a little more isolated without his overbearing company. It was strange--you almost, emphasis on almost, missed him. You'd grown used to ignoring his borderline stalker-like tendencies, and now without him around to ignore, you felt lonely. Lonelier than you already had been, anyways.

At home, things were just as cold and distant. Your mother was in a slump again following your outburst at dinner, and you were beating yourself up over it endlessly. She'd been doing good, finally, and you'd just had to have gone and ruined all of her progress.

She'd been holed up in her bedroom ever since that evening. Not even your father was able to get her to let him in, and in turn he was banished to the sofa night after night. As such, you were feeling the ice from your mother and your father alike. You couldn't blame him, really, because the sofa was definitely not the most comfortable for sleeping.

It felt a little like your life was falling apart all over again since your birthday. The childish, bitter part of you wanted to blame Peter, because it would have been so easy to blame the only thing that had changed in your life, but you knew better. It was you. You were the cause for everything that was going wrong, and you didn't know how to stop it.

Why couldn't you just be better? The whole world was moving on, making progress, and yet you were stagnant. You didn't understand why you couldn't let go of all the heavy things holding you down, holding you back, but you just couldn't. Grieving her wasn't getting easier, and you didn't know how to try and make that change.

"Are you alright?"

Startled by the sudden return of Peter's voice, you jumped in your seat and blinked at him in surprise. It had been such a long week of near radio silence from him that you were shocked to be acknowledged by him, despite the fact that you'd been sitting beside him for the entirety of your Speech class. You'd almost started to wonder if maybe he was ignoring you, though you didn't exactly try to talk to him either.

Quietly, you mumbled, "Not really, but that's normal these days."

It was only then that you realized class was over, students packing up and filing out of the classroom eagerly in anticipation of the weekend. You'd been far more spaced out than you had thought--it felt like just moments ago you were sitting down and waiting for class to begin. You awkwardly began to pack up your untouched classwork and Peter did the same, neither of you quite sure what to say to the other.

Ever since she died, you had an uncanny ability to make any and every situation uncomfortable without really trying. It started with your inability to contain your emotions in response to the thousands of condolences you received over those first few days, and then the more you secluded yourself it only got worse. People looked at you strangely and whispered when they thought you couldn't hear them. They thought you were a ticking time bomb, and in a sense they were correct.

Maybe that was the reason you weren't quite as adamant about pushing Peter away as you were others. He didn't look at you that way, nor did he whisper hushed words about you that would surely make your ears burn when you overheard. Both times that he had seen you in a horrible state, he'd only looked at you with concern and worry. Not once had you seen him give you those all too familiar apprehensive stares, and you were grateful for it.

Realizing you were moving at a strangely slow pace, and Peter was anxiously waiting for you to finish, you cleared your throat and muttered, "Do you want to start the project tomorrow? Or tonight, if you're not busy."

"Um," Peter stammered, not bothering to hide his surprise at your offer, "sure. Tonight is fine if--if that's okay with you."

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither of you quite comfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere. Zipping your backpack, you stated, "Yeah, great."

"Great!" Peter echoed, and you both turned and hurried away from each other in discomfort.

When you told your father that Peter Parker was coming over that night you weren't entirely sure what to expect. The reaction you received, however was so far off your radar it scared you a little. He'd nearly wept with joy, kissing your cheek and saying he was proud of you for making friends again, to which you retorted Peter wasn't your friend.

He could tell it was a lie, despite the fact that under normal circumstances Peter definitely wouldn't have been considered a friend. For you, now and after everything you'd been through, he was the closest thing you had to a friend, though. So, you resisted the urge to fight your father on the premise and let him run off to boast to your mother about it.

Even if you felt like you weren't making progress, it couldn't hurt to let your parents think that you were. You were trying, anyways, so you didn't feel quite as guilty about letting them read too much into things. You just hoped that they didn't get their hopes up too high, because there was still time for you to mess things up like you always did.

You spent the afternoon cleaning your room and wallowing in your anxiety. The project was something you were dreading starting, mostly because you knew it would bring up all sorts of negative memories and emotions for you, but also because you feared what Peter would think of you. Would he judge you for your opinions? Would he think you were bitter and ridiculous?

For awhile you contemplated all the ways you could try and lie to appease him, thinking of ways to keep your composure well enough to debate on behalf of superheroes. In the end, though, you knew it was impossible. Arguing against the Avengers was going to be hard enough in itself, let alone trying to pretend you were in favor of them. Was it too late to ask for an alternate assignment?

Peter Parker: hey i'm on my way

Peter Parker: if that's okay. if you're busy that's fine too

It was definitely too late to ask for an alternate assignment, and as you typed out your response you decided it was time for you to finally start trying to do better. You'd wished for things to be easier, to be better, for so long, yet you'd never put in any of the work to make it happen. It was time for that to change. You were going to do the project, fight your stance to Peter, and try your best to not ruin his opinion of you completely in the process.

You: yeah that's fine

You: my mom says you can stay for dinner

You: if you want... if not that's cool you probably have other things to do

Okay, you were definitely biting off more than you could chew. Reading over your awkward texts to Peter made you cringe in a bad way, and you felt nauseous with embarrassment. It was so, so unbelievably hard trying to be approachable after you'd spent the past year pushing everyone away. The fear of him rejecting you was sending shockwaves through your entire body, tingling your skin all the way to the tips of your toes.

To your relief, Peter responded to let you know he was okay with staying for dinner, and informed you that he was on his way. You shot off a remark about using the door this time, and then promptly threw your phone away in shame. What if he thought you were being rude instead of joking? Or worse, what if he knew you were joking and thought it was stupid? Socializing was a real drain on your energy.

By the time Peter arrived with a timid knock on your bedroom door, followed by your mother's coo, "Oh, honey, just go on in. She's never doing anything," you had successfully stressed yourself into oblivion. You were so consumed by your thoughts you almost didn't notice her throwing open your door with a beaming grin, but the sound of Peter's uncomfortable laughter snapped you out of your daze.

"Uh, hi." you squeaked, suddenly extremely self conscious of your bedroom. He'd seen it before, obviously, but this time it was actually swathed in lamp light and the evening sun. "You can sit."

Peter stood in silence, studying your room with an indecipherable look on his face for a long moment. "It's nice in here." he finally stated, dropping his backpack and letting that easy grin slip across his lips for the first time in the past week. It was incredibly relieving to see it, and you even found yourself relaxing a little.

He sat on the edge of your bed and both of you turned to your mother curiously as she continued to stand in your doorway with a tearful smile. Jumping in shock, she gasped, "Oh, right, right. I'll just be downstairs if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Peter."

With one last lingering gaze, your mother backed out of the room and shut the door. That was how you knew this was a special occasion in her eyes--what sane mother would ever shut her teenage daughter in a bedroom with a teenage boy willingly? It had been a long while since you'd genuinely felt embarrassed, but you couldn't help but to groan and cover your face at the whole situation.

Peter, however, seemed thoroughly amused by everything. "Your mom is a lot like my Aunt May." he mused, twinkling brown eyes trailing over every inch of your room, "Your room is huge. I think I could fit my entire bedroom in here three times and still have extra space."

"I used to share it with my sister."

He paled at your statement and stuttered, "Oh, shit, I'm so--I'm so sorry. I didn't know--"

"Peter, it's fine." you interrupted his frantic apology, and for what felt like the first time ever, you meant it.

It was fine. You didn't feel angry or bitter about the reminder of her disappearance from your life, and it was strange to you. You liked it, though, and it felt nice to talk about her without being bogged down by thousands of horrible thoughts and feelings.

Relaxing only slightly at your reassurance, Peter looked at you wearily as if he expected you to start crying or lash out at him. To his, and your own, surprise you gave a small smile. That still felt wrong; it didn't come very naturally to you anymore, but Peter seemed mesmerized by it none the less.

The sight of your permanent frown disappearing from your face gave him the confidence to move on from the uncomfortable topic, it seemed, because he grinned back and moved to unzip his backpack. "Okay, so, first thing's first--have you read the outline for the project? It's ridiculously broad and I've been struggling to think of any ideas to make our speech unique." he rambled, rifling through the crumpled mess of papers he retrieved from his bag until he finally found what he was looking for.

You slid your smooth, unwrinkled copy across the bed and asked, "Shouldn't we start with which stance we're taking?"

Peter blinked at you, and you tensed in preparation for the argument that was about to ensue. "What do you mean? I thought it was just a given that we were arguing in favor of the Avengers?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone is going to."

"I wanted to argue in opposition, actually." you muttered, pursing your lips. "That could be what makes ours stand out, you know?"

His lips opened and closed like a fish for a few moments as he clearly struggled to formulate words, but eventually he sputtered, "Is that the only reason why? I don't know if I can argue against myself, considering I kind of am an Avenger."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek, already wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Letting Peter into your space, into your life, was already hard enough--adding conflict into the mix only made your heart rate pick up and your hands start to sweat. "I don't agree with the Avengers, no, but I have reasons. So, maybe you feel weird arguing against yourself, but I feel just as weird arguing in favor of something I don't agree with." you finally explained, and Peter's eyes widened incredulously.

"Why don't you like the Avengers?"

You nearly scoffed at the way he posed the question, as if he were asking you why you weren't a fan of a specific sports team. "I don't agree with them, there's a difference." you stated bluntly.

Peter wiped his palms on his jeans tensely, just as you did the same, and repeated, "Why, though? What's not to agree with? They--they've saved the world over and over again, isn't that impossible to not agree with?"

"At what cost, though?" you retorted, "Have you paid any mind to all the things they've destroyed? How many lives they've ended, or destroyed, in the midst of their heroic deeds?"

He seemed to get riled up by the bitter way you spat out the word heroic and scoffed, "Okay, but that doesn't just happen with the Avengers. The police do all of that and more on a much more frequent basis."

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, though you had to admit it was a fair counter argument. Clicking your tongue, you rebutted, "That's true, but at least sometimes there are consequences for that! With people like the Avengers there are no consequences. There's no justice, no opposition, nothing! They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, no matter who gets hurt in the process."

Peter stood from your bed abruptly, raking a hand through his hair and pacing around your room with red cheeks. You could tell very well that he was trying to control his temper, though he was about as intimidating as a mouse, and you took deep breathes yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him angry with you, but you weren't willing to back down about how you felt.

Inhaling slowly, he turned to you once again and said, "There are consequences. Don't you remember the Sokovia Accords? That whole fiasco was because of people who felt like you do."

The Sokovia Accords were a sham in your eyes. You remembered well when they had come about, and it seemed that they had changed nothing. For awhile most of the Avengers had gone off the grid, choosing to be international fugitives rather than sign, until the world needed them again. When Thanos had tried to wipe out half of all life in the universe they'd all come out of the woodwork again to save the day, and afterward it seemed as if all was forgotten.

There was no punishment for Captain America, Black Widow, none of them. They stopped another world ending event, causing plenty of damage in the process, and in turn were regarded as godly heroes once again. You sometimes wondered if the Accords were even a thing anymore.

"They felt that way for good reason!" you snapped before clearing your throat and trying to calm down again, "The Avengers have caused just as much devastation as they've prevented, maybe even more."

Peter jumped at your loud tone and snapped back, "What would you even know about it? I see it first hand every time, remember, so I know what happens! What do you know?"

"They killed my sister, did you know that?" you shouted, and he froze in place with wide eyes and parted lips, "Yeah, you know what happens, right? Well then you should know that I know damn well the damage the Avengers can do."

He sat back down on your bed wordlessly, watching you hesitantly as you tugged at a loose thread on your blanket anxiously. "I didn't know that, (Y/N)," he sighed, "I'm really sorry."

You didn't say anything for a long while, not trusting your voice to come out steady as you tried to hold back tears and also keep your temper in line. Talking about your sister's death wasn't something you really did, mostly because you knew it would cause you to break down. It hurt too much to think of it, let alone speak the words out loud.

But, as Peter continued to watch you as if expecting you to explode, you tried your best, "It was my fault. If it weren't for me we wouldn't have been at the park, and she--and she wouldn't have had to wait for me."

Peter reached out and gripped your hand firmly in his, causing you to momentarily short circuit in shock. You internally battled the conflicting urges to pull away or cling to him, but eventually you relaxed into the contact. Gently grasping his hand back, you let out a shaky breathe you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

It was grounding having his hand in yours. You didn't feel like you were at risk of drifting away into the void like you usually did; with his hand touching you, it felt as if you had a secure connection to the world again. It was a feeling you never wanted to lose again.

"It wasn't your fault, (Y/N)," he soothed, but you shook your head stubbornly.

Your eyes burned as you continued, "It was! She wanted to go shopping but I begged her to come to the park with me instead. I wanted to take some photos, and she'd argued with me for so long until she finally caved. A little bit after we got there we heard this really loud explosion, and I just--I just froze, and I..."

The words seemed to lodge in your throat, and your voice came out hoarse as you forced them out, "I froze staring up at Iron Man blasting some alien through the air, so stupidly shocked I didn't notice the building collapsing until she pushed me out of the way. I tried to grab her, but it was too late! A bunch of bricks hit her and--"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to tell me." Peter hushed you, gripping your hand tighter and scooting so close to you that his leg was pressed up against yours. Somehow the increased contact and warmth caused you to break, and suddenly you were crying in front of Peter Parker for the third time. You were three for three on crying in his presence, a thought that made you cry harder in embarrassment.

He didn't seem to care at all, though, as he took you by surprise and hugged you. "He just flew right by us. He didn't even stop when I screamed for help." you croaked, clutching Peter's shirt tightly in your fists as he held you, "I hate them. I hate them so much because it should be their fault, but I just keep blaming myself!"

You really hoped your mother wasn't eavesdropping, because she'd surely have wanted to talk to you about everything later. In all the time that had passed since your sister's death, you hadn't once retold the events of that day. You'd never spoken a single word about it, not even to the police who questioned you following the incident.

No matter how hard your parents had urged you to talk about it, or your therapist, you hadn't ever budged. It was your burden to bear, and you had never felt the desire or the strength to impart that load unto anyone else. Peter somehow broke down all of your walls without even trying, though, and it felt like a breathe of fresh air to finally get it all off of your chest.

There was no explanation for why he seemed to get you to do all the things you swore you never would without a word. It made no sense at all, and it scared you a lot, but you liked it. You craved the connection he gave you. Already, after such a short amount of time, you needed it. It would surely have crushed you if he decided not to care.

As your crying slowly subsided, Peter rubbed your back timidly and comforted, "It wasn't your fault, (Y/N), I mean it. It was just a freak thing, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it--sometimes bad things just happen, and they're inevitable."

"But, if I had just--"

He cut you off, "No, no buts. It wasn't your fault and you couldn't have prevented it. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, okay? It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault either."

You wanted to ask him how he could possibly know what you felt, or what he meant by saying it wasn't his fault, but it wasn't the right time. Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you sniffled, "I really need to stop crying in front of you. You're like an onion, you know? I just can't stop crying when you're around me."

Peter laughed loudly at your weak joke, and you couldn't fight back the quiet giggle the escaped your lips too. You hadn't laughed, genuinely laughed, in so long. "I like your laugh," he breathed, and your stomach erupted in the strangest fluttery sensation, "I like it a lot. You should never stop laughing."

SERIEST TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

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wh0reforjsmh · 4 years

Text

Lone Wolf

Summary: A lone she-wolf finds home in a new pack after a series of unfortunate events. As time passes, she slowly falls for the pack alpha and things take turn for the best as they finally find home in each other’s arms.

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x female reader

Genre: werewolf au, smut, fluff, angst

Warnings: violence, mentions of character death, cursing, breeding kink, knotting, size kink, overstimulation, degradation

Word Count: 6k

Disclaimer: This is my first time officially writing a smut so please bare with me. Some information may not be correct but I had to change it a little to adjust with the story line so don’t come at me, please.

Keep running!

You run through the woods at full speed, ignoring the pain on the soles of your feet and the way the tree branches scratch your skin. Your wolf howls in panic, urging you to run faster and lose the group of vampires following you.

Two days ago, your pack had been ambushed by rogue vampires from the coven that marked the southern land.

A little too much blood lust had them draining the life out of unsuspecting humans and their thirst for power had them killing off a few stray werewolves that hid themselves from society.

Banishment was their punishment but it didn't hinder them the slightest bit. In fact, it made them even more reckless and hungry for power.

And that's how they killed every last one of your pack members.

You had been tasked to gather a few herbs from a nearby valley to prepare for pack dinner. But the moment you got back, you sensed something wrong.

The atmosphere of the pack grounds had shifted and the cheerful chatter which could be heard within a half a mile radius was no longer present.

There were new scents in the air intermingling with those of your pack mates and instantly, you knew the reason. Vampires.

For centuries, vampires and werewolves had been mutual enemies but in the past few decades, a pact had been formed to prevent supernatural wars, a pact to live in harmony by compromising. It was simple, vampires and werewolves should never kill each other, a simple rule that can easily be carried out.

Whoever defies the agreement will be punished regardless of the reason. And the punishment varies depending on the coven or pack. However, the punishment given by the southern coven might have not proven to be a punishment at all considering the fact that their rogues continue to kill werewolves in the quest for power.

As soon as you heard the familiar howl of your alpha, your father, you ran. It was a distress howl to signal nearby pack mates to hide and protect themselves.

But vampires are agile and powerful, with sensitive hearing that could pick up the slightest of sounds.

And the sound that was emitted when you ran back through where you came from did not go unnoticed. In an attempt to save the remaining pack members, your father and the other alphas used their remaining strength to fight the vampires to give everyone else time to escape. And run you did.

Werewolves are quick on their feet, especially in their wolf form and they have relatively good hearing too. But compared to vampires, you don't stand a chance. You aren't quick enough and the fact that you aren't able to transform into your wolf form yet is another hindrance. And you can't detect their location through sound either.

But one thing you do have is a very good nose and you've been constantly sniffing the air out to pinpoint their position, enough so you could create some distance between you and them.

It's been 2 days since the incident and you've grown tired and weak, never stopping to catch a breath yet unable to suppress the drowsiness that crawls upon your consciousness.

You can't stop yet. You need to run as far as you can till you get help. That is if anyone is willing to help. Your pack has always been a little closed off from the outside world, preferring to keep to yourselves and live peacefully in the dense woods, far from civilization.

But that may prove to be a disadvantage with the way the woods seem endless as you continue to run, nobody in sight save for a few animals that scramble away at your abrupt presence.

You don't know how much longer you can take this, you've always been a weak omega with a small frame and less than average stamina and strength. With the energy you've exerted over the last few days, your body might start to cage in on itself.

"Little wolf," a voice calls out from behind and you gasp as you realize that the vampires are drawing near. "Don't be scared."

You continue to run, tears streaming down your face as you silently cry for help. You wolf is howling all over the place, stressed and gripped with fear.

You don't slow down through the chase despite the growing ache in your limbs and the burning in your lungs. _____

"Hyunjin," Jisung, the pack scout, calls as he stumbles into the main house, out of breath.

Hyunjin looks up at him from the kitchen counter, detecting the uneasiness in his voice.

"Did something happen?"

"I found a few new scents in the western border; they've just entered our land."

Hyunjin furrows his brows in thought. We're not expecting anyone.

"Rogue wolves?"

"I'm not sure. They're closing in though."

Hyunjin gets up from his seat. "Then we go meet them."

"What if it's a trap?" Minho comes into the living room, eyes sharp and guarded.

"Either way, we have to face them. We have a pack to protect and danger won't go away by itself."

"Wait," Jisung raises a hand to silence them, sniffing the air. He has the best nose out of everyone in the pack hence chosen as the scout.

Hyunjin may have the best hearing but certain sounds can only be heard through a distance. And in this case, it won't help much.

"What is it?"

"The scents are different," Jisung mumbles, eyes closed in concentration. "There's a she-wolf but the rest are very different from hers."

“Pack mates?” Chan asks from his hunched position on the sofa.

“No, it’s different,” Jisung shakes his head. “I think it’s-”

"Vampires," Hyunjin growls lowly. "We leave now." _____

Your legs are starting to give up on you as fatigue consumes you. Despite your inner protests, your body refuses to obey your commands any longer and you find yourself stumbling down the forest floor after tripping over a thick root, landing flat on your face.

Get up! Y/N, move!

You shakily anchor yourself up, putting weight on your hands but it proved to be futile as you end up falling again.

"Look who we have here."

Fuck.

"The little she-wolf has finally stopped to play," you can hear their chuckles from behind you and you inwardly scream in fright as you try to crawl away from them.

"You don't know when to give up do you?" a voice whispers in your ear and you almost scream from the pain that occurs not a second later.

The bastard had stepped on the back of your knee, putting pressure on it and causing a loud 'crack' to be heard.

You accidentally let out a whimper in pain, causing the vampires to chuckle in glee. Gosh, they're not only demonic but sadists too.

"Would you look at that, does the little wolf feel pain?"

"Fuck you," you manage to mutter but you're quickly shut with a vampire hoisting you to your feet by the back of your neck.

"That's not a very nice thing to say, is it?" he hisses before slamming your back against a tree trunk, hand wrapped around your throat and effectively minimizing your breathing ability.

You fight against his hold, scratching against his skin and thrashing your legs around. The vampire isn't fazed one bit by your actions, the glow of the sunlight illuminating his skin as he bares his fangs at you.

Whoever said vampires burn when they step out in the sun must have never met one. Because right now, in the evening sun, the vampires are still quite alive looking and powerful. Vampires don't burn in the sun, rather they're weaker in daytime compared to their powers in the night. And as the sun's starting to set, you fear that this may be your last breath.

"Quite beautiful, isn't it?" he laughs. "The wonders of nature."

You slowly stop fighting, the exertion causing you to slowly lose consciousness.

"That's it, let down your guard. It'll all-"

"Get your hands off her," a new voice speaks up and through your dazed state, you can see a few men standing by. The scent is akin to your pack and instantly you know.

Werewolves.

"She doesn't belong to you, Hwang," the vampire hisses in warning and the other vampires take an attacking stance, ready to kill.

"She may not belong to my pack but she is a werewolf," the man, Hwang, growls in return. "And I'm obligated to care for my kind, regardless of their status."

"She will not got with you."

"I wasn't asking. You've trespassed werewolf territory, my lands. Unless you want to end up headless, I suggest you leave."

"Never."

A split second was all it took but the moment you blinked, you find the vampire holding you captive lying still on the ground, head chopped off his body.

The hand squeezing your throat is gone and you gasp as you breathe in again, the rush of oxygen making you dizzy and you're unable to control yourself from falling over.

A pair of hands grab you before you fall to the ground, however, and you sigh in relief at the warmth surrounding your senses, unconsciously snuggling to the source of warmth and feeling safe at home.

"You're safe now," is the last thing you hear as you drift away to dreamland. _____

You hear the sound of birds chirping in delight as you regain consciousness, memories flooding back into you one by one and you sit up instantly with a sharp intake of breath, gasping for air.

"Calm down, calm down," you hear a female voice say but you can't be bothered to question who it is, unable to focus om your surroundings and still struggling to breathe.

You're not sure if you heard right but you hear a door slam open and people shouting frantically.

Tears start streaming down your face as you recall the horrors you've faced for the past few days and the recollection worsens your breathing.

"Calm down, omega. You're safe here," a soothing voice says, stroking your hair. Unlike the first voice, it's of a deeper tone but the presence is much gentler and comforting and your wolf whines in recognition.

Within seconds, your mind has cleared and your breathing starts to get back to normal. Carefully, you open your eyes, taking a look at your surroundings. As you turn to look at your savior, you're met by the most gorgeous man you have ever seen in your life.

His looks could be said to be crafted by the gods themselves with porcelain skin and captivating full lips. His eyebrows are the definition of perfect and his jet black hair frames his face delicately. But the one feature that captivates you the most are his chocolate brown eyes and you find yourself getting lost in his gaze, expression filled with awe at his beauty.

You might've stared at him for a little too long until you hear him cough under his breath.

Mother always said, "Don't stare at people."

Instantly, your face turns beet red, embarrassed at being reprimanded for staring. He doesn't seem to really mind though with the way he smirks and raises his brow. Either way, you duck your head down to avoid his gaze.

"How're you feeling, little one?" Now that you can hear and focus properly, his voice is like honey, smooth, sweet and addictive.

"I feel better," you rasp out, throat dry and voice a little croaky.

He hands you a cup of water to quench your thirst and you gratefully take it from him, gulping it down.

"Slow down, sweetheart. Else you might choke."

You blush at the both the pet name and reminder and you nod abashedly, handing him the cup back.

"Tell me, omega," he starts and you curiously peer up at him. "What happened to you?"

You ignore the lump in your throat as you look outside, retelling the events that led up to this moment.

"My pack was attacked by rogue vampires, rogues from the southern coven if I'm not wrong."

He hums at your statement, telling you that indeed, you're right.

"I was on my way back home after gathering a few herbs when I sensed a change in the air, there were new, unfamiliar scents. I had a suspicion it was vampires and when I heard my father, the alpha, howl, I knew it was a signal to run. So I ran and never stopped. I don't know if anyone even survived and I-I just-"

You break down into tears as guilt fills you. You had been so focused on running for your life that you didn't stop to think about what happened to your family.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he mumbles into your hair as he embraces your frail form, stroking the back of your head to calm you down once more. "It's not your fault. Hopefully, there will be survivors from your pack and they made it out alive."

You can only nod in agreement as sobs wreck through you, mourning the death of your family now that you're safe from danger with the alpha soothing you. _____

"What would you like to eat?" he asks once you feel a little better.

"I don't know," you chuckle tiredly. "Anything will be fine."

Hyunjin frowns at that. "You need to have a proper meal, you haven't eaten since you ran away and that's 5 days ago."

"I was out for 3 days?" you ask with wide eyes, you expected to be a dead for a while but 3 days was a little too long.

"Yes, Yeji has already cleaned your bruises and dressed you this morning but you need to eat. You're small enough as it is, you can't lose any more weight."

"Yes, sir," you mumble.

"Hyunjin," he tells you and you glance up to see him look at you with a soft smile, dimples formed and eyes crinkling into crescents. "My name's Hyunjin."

"I'm Y/N," you smile back, a little blush adorning your cheeks.

He's so handsome.

You can't help but inwardly sigh at his beauty. Not only was he gorgeous but he's very charming and nice too.

Snap out of it, Y/N. You don't really know the man and he probably already has a mate. He's an alpha for God's sake. That Yeji person he talked about might be his mate.

You force yourself out of your thoughts when you hear him clear his throat.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? You spaced out a little."

"I'm fine. It happens all the time to me so it's nothing to worry about."

"Let's go eat then."

"Alright," you say as you swing your legs to the side of the bed, planting your feet firmly on the floor before getting up, stumbling a little from the lack of use.

"Carefully now, we don't want you to end up in bed for a few days again," he teases you as he holds his arm out for you to hold.

You chuckle lightly at his statement before grabbing onto his arm to walk steadily down the stairs.

You can see a few people loitering around the large living room as you walk downstairs, laughing loudly and chattering amongst themselves.

It turns out that your presence doesn't really bother them as they don't seem to stop in their activity or glare at you with hostility.

"That's only a few members of the pack," Hyunjin tells you as he guides you to the kitchen.

"Where are the others?"

"Some are out on patrol and some are in their homes or doing other activities within the compound."

"Do you live here?"

"Nah, I have my own cabin. This is the main house but we usually use it for meetings and some bonding time. There are guest rooms upstairs though, the one you slept in is a guest room."

"Are there any pups around?" you ask curiously and Hyunjin smiles as the question, a certain fondness overtaking his features.

"Yeah, my cousin gave birth last week to triplets. Aside from them, there are 4 more pups that belong to a few other pack mates."

"There's not much of them around, I see."

"We're quite a newly established pack, Y/N. I started the pack two years ago with my closest friends, my brothers in arms. The eight of us joined together to form a new pack and the other seven elected me as the head alpha considering that I was the one who suggested the idea in the first place."

"A pack of alphas, did that start out weird?" you teasingly ask, knowing that a group filled with testosterone wouldn't really end well.

"The first few months needed adapting, we had to have weekly meetings regarding issues to discuss possible solutions. There were a lot of arguing in the beginning, of course. We were headstrong and hated being proved wrong. It died down however and everything's been peaceful with new wolves coming into the pack. Some are family, some are lone but what matters is that we're all one pack in the end."

"That's true. The pack is important. My father was an alpha who started a pack by himself, brought a few of his friends in and continued on until he mated with my mom. He wanted to live peacefully in a secluded area within the higher grounds of the forest so we moved. We settled there when I turned 4, I was just a little pup itching to run around."

Hyunjin laughs while grabbing a plate from the drawer, plating some homemade food for you to eat.

"Well, little one. Time to eat and you better finish it up."

"You put too much food," you whine, glancing up at him.

He simply stares you down and lets out a light growl.

Out of instinct, you duck your head down in submission, obeying him.

Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin feels a swell of warmth in seeing you submit to him. _____

As weeks passed by, you've adapted yourself to the pack, being welcomed and accepted as a new member.

You've been helping out with chores and babysitting; you've always loved kids. It's why you've always taken the babysitting task in your old pack and surrounded yourself with kids.

The pups took an instant liking to you, nuzzling their heads into your sides as soon as you met them. There's this calming aura around you, Yeji said once. Your presence feels comforting and warm, drawing people in with your bright personality.

Sure, the first few days you were a little awkward and shy, you had just gone through a tough time. But everyone was forgiving and open, allowing you to take your time to adjust to your new living condition.

And after all this time, you've just found out that Hyunjin is not mated. In fact, he's the only one out of the eight original members to not have already mated.

The fact surprised you immensely. You thought Yeji was his mate and when you confessed to that, she cracked up.

"Y/N, oh my god! How could you? He's literally my brother!" Yeji had laughed, so hard that her stomach hurt.

Your mouth hung open then, in disbelief. And Jisung passed by commenting how you looked like a fish out of water, which earned him a quick smack to the head.

You felt stupid then and curiously you asked Yeji why he hadn't mated yet.

"He told me that he was waiting for the right one, apparently no omega's caught his eye. Even though he's been set up on dates with the prettiest and curviest of wolves, he's never spared them a second glance," she said.

You deflated a little at that. Ever since he saved you, Hyunjin made sure to check up on you every once in a while, the same gentle smile adorning his features every time you met.

And that smile made you fall for him even deeper. The smallest of gestures he directed towards you would make your heart skip a beat and turn your face flush.

You long to stand by his side and call him your alpha but Yeji's words made you question your beliefs.

If he didn't find a pretty and sexy omega interesting, why would he be interested in you?

Oh, how wrong you are. _____

You've recently turned 18, a toast to being an adult. The wolves of your pack celebrated the occasion, throwing a party for you with vigor.

You felt happy then and felt like you truly belonged in the pack as their new omega. It won't be long till you're supposed to mate and carry pups.

And the first step to that is to go through your first heat. Usually, female wolves experience their first heat when they turn 17 and after that, they're able to shift into their wolf forms.

While for males, they'd experience their first heat at the age of 16, a determinant on whether they're an alpha or a beta, but their ability to shift takes place since young. It's not uncommon to see male pups wrestling each other in their wolf forms.

Yet here you are, 18 and still haven't gone through your first heat. Your mother did fill you in about the details of the heat but she did not inform you of the signs and pain before the heat. _____

A few weeks later, you find yourself wide awake at 7 am in your shared cabin with Yeji.

You feel cramps in your lower stomach so you thought that you might be getting your period soon. You've never experienced a heat before so you wouldn't know exactly how it'd feel.

Since you can't go back to sleep, you opt to take a stroll along the compound and see what your pack mates are up to.

Carefully, you slip out of the cabin to not wake sleeping Yeji up, she needed her beauty sleep.

It's still a little too early for people to be up but still, you hear your favorite pup's loud laughter and you smile in glee as you see him running to you.

"Y/N!" Chenle, a 5 year old pup, exclaims in delight as he latches onto your leg, squeezing it.

"Chenle!" you squeal and pick him up, hugging him close to your bosom. "Why're you awake so early?"

He grins at you. "Mama told me that if I want to be a big boy, I need to wake up early and help Papa!"

You laugh at how adorable he looks, nuzzling your cheek onto his.

"Is that so? Then why are you here with me? Shouldn't you be helping your father with the male duties?" you tease him.

"You're right! Y/N, let me down, please. I wanna go help Papa!" he wiggles in your hold, wanting to be let down.

"Alright, geez! But I'm taking you back to your Mama first."

"But-"

"Do you even know what your father does in the morning, baby cakes?" you smile at his confused expression, playfully biting his cheek.

"Y/N!" he giggles at your action, shaking his head excitedly.

You laugh at him, leisurely carrying him back to his cabin.

"See? That's why we need to go to your Mama first. Besides, if you want to be a big, strong man then you need to drink plenty of milk and eat your meals. You can't do anything on an empty stomach."

"If I drink a lot of milk then will I get as big and strong as Alpha Hyunjin?" he peers up at you with curious eyes.

"Of course. However, there's one more condition."

"What's that?" Chenle leans into you, interested.

"You have to eat veggies!"

"Ew, no! Y/N, that's disgusting!"

You laugh as you hold him tighter in your hold, savoring the warmth.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain head alpha watched the whole interaction with a fond smile and a loving gaze. But once he smells the change in your scent, his eyes darken and glaze over in lust. _____

"Y/N, are you in heat?" Ryujin, another close friend of yours, asks during your little baking episode.

You look at her with a raised brow. "I'm pretty sure I told you how I haven't experienced my first heat yet. I really don't know how it feels."

"I'm serious, Y/N. Your scent's a lot stronger now than it was this morning! Did you feel any cramps of some sort this morning?"

"No-" you start but cut yourself off as you remember the cramp you had earlier this morning.

"Shit, Y/N! You need to get back into your cabin before it starts. Once it fully kicks in, you won't be able to think properly aside from wanting to be dicked down."

"Ryujin!"

"Hey, it's true! We need to get you back before-"

"Ah!" you exclaim as pain surges through your abdomen, and heat starts to crawl through your nether regions.

"-that," Ryujin cringes at how you start to clutch onto your stomach. "Y/N, stay with me. Come on, let's get you back."

'Yeji!' Ryujin shouts through the telepathic pack link, calling out to the older girl in panic.

"What's wrong?" Yeji exclaims as she runs into the kitchen, eyes widening at your position. "Oh, no. This calls for trouble. We need to get her back before all the unmated alphas or betas start scenting her."

Yeji bends down to carry you, not bothered by your weight due to how light you are.

"Get the bed ready," Yeji tells Ryujin who sprints towards your cabin right away.

Yeji tries to run as she carries you in her arms, eyes focused on the path before her.

Meanwhile, you're starting to grow hotter and needier by the minute. You feel like taking all your clothes off because of how hot you feel and the amount of slick you're starting to produce can't be contained any longer.

Surely by now, there's a wet patch on your sweats, slick leaking through your panties. You can't help but whimper at the heat and pain in your core, your wolf whining in need.

Yeji notices the change in your attitude and starts rushing through the compound. Unfortunately, things don't always go according to plan and Yeji finds a certain Lee Donghyuk blocking her path.

"Goddamn it, Lee! Move!"

"And let my opportunity with sweet Y/N go to waste?" he scoffs, walking towards you with arms stretched out. "I'll take her from here."

Of course, with your acceptance into the pack comes a few disadvantages as well. You don't know how it happened but you've gained yourselves a few admirers such as Lee Donghyuk and Huang Renjun to name a few.

They've been pestering you since you came in, taking every opportunity to land a kiss on your cheek or nuzzle into your neck and it infuriates you every time because damn it, Hyunjin is the one you want.

And if he doesn't want you then no one will have you.

Fortunately, you still have half a mind through your incessant whimpers and whines to growl at him. "Fuck you, Lee."

"Omega!" his eyes flash red in anger but before anything could happen, Minho appeared and squeezes his shoulder in warning.

"If she doesn't want you then don't force her. She's in enough pain as is," Minho tells him in a low growl, gesturing Yeji to continue on with a quick cock of his head.

Yeji nods at him before sprinting to your shared cabin, kicking the door open before hurriedly setting you on the bed.

"She's burning up," Yeji curses under her breath. "What do we do?"

"Do you think we should call an alpha for her?" Ryujin asks, unsure.

"Let's not be hasty. We don-"

"Alpha," you whimper in need. "I want my alpha, please."

"Y/N?" Yeji calls out to you to confirm your words. "Are you absolutely sure?"

You continue to whimper, tugging on your clothes with grunts of pain.

"Alpha, please. Please," you whine as you roll on your bed, slick coating the sheets.

"What do we do?" Ryujin asks Yeji helplessly.

"She wants her alpha but who exactly does she mean?"

"Please not Renjun, she'll regret losing her virginity to him for the rest of her life."

"Please, please," you whimper in need, dry humping the sheets. "Alpha, please."

Yeji's head starts to spin from the heavy musk of arousal. "Y/N, be specific."

"My alpha," you cry. "Hyunjin, alpha!"

"Hyunjin?" Ryujin asks with wide eyes.

"I fucking knew it," Yeji cheers but a glare from Ryujin cuts her off. "Alright, you stay here. I'll get-"

"No need," a voice cuts them both off as the door swings open, revealing said alpha.

"Hyunjin-"

Hyunjin growls lightly at his sister and she raises her hands in surrender before pulling Ryujin by the arm.

"Have fun!" she calls out before slamming the door shut behind her.

Thankfully, the walls of every cabin is soundproof, especially Hyunjin's cabin but obviously, neither of you have the ability to make a trek to his cabin near the main house.

Hyunjin has sensitive hearing, the best in the pack and he could hear your soft moans and whimpers all the way from his cabin, driving him insane.

The change in your scent this morning had made him light-headed, driving him into an early rut.

Usually, he'd spend his ruts in his cabin by himself, not wanting to copulate with just any female. He wanted to properly mate with his she-wolf, the person destined to be his mate and carry his pups.

And ever since you stepped foot into his life, he believes that you're the one. Your easy-going personality has him melting in ways unfathomable. Yet, you're way too pure and innocent.

You don't realize how the smallest things you do ignite a passion inside him, he wants to hold you close and keep you safe from harm. He wants to love you hard and soft all the same and keep you away from prying eyes.

He wants to keep you caged beneath him as he does the dirtiest things to your body and knot you till you're full of his cum. And right now, it's the perfect opportunity to do so.

"Alpha," you cry in desperation, hands reaching out for him. "Alpha, please."

"My little omega," he coos as he sits on the edge of the bed, gently stroking your hair and effectively calming you down. "Is my little omega finally experiencing her heat?"

You nod at him, nuzzling into his hand that's moved down to your cheek.

"Look how small and pretty you are, omega."

"Only for you, alpha," you confess through hooded eyes. "I want to be small and pretty only for you."

Hyunjin feels his breath hitch at how ethereal you look covered in your own slick and sweat, the primal instincts inside him begging to be released.

"Is that so? Am I your alpha now?"

You nod fervently. "Yes, alpha, please. Please mark me as yours."

You whimper into his touch as he strokes your cheek, arousal still clouding your mind but the words you say are heartfelt, spoken with the purest of intentions.

When Hyunjin makes no move whatsoever, you whine in need, removing your body from his touch and planting yourself face down, raising your hips into the air and pushing your ass into him.

Hyunjin growls in satisfaction at your display of submission, hands tracing the wet patch on your sweats.

"Alpha, please!"

"Please what, omega? What do you want me to do?"

"Anything, just make me yours," you whine before turning to look him in the eyes. "Knot me till I'm full of your cum, please, Alpha."

At hearing those words, something inside Hyunjin snaps, years of practiced control and patience thrown out the window at your pleas and he doesn't waste more time.

He pulls you into his lap, latching his lips onto yours, tongue skillfully tracing every inch of your wet cavern. You let him dominate you, feeling yourself grow weaker in his touch.

"The things I want to do to you," he growls as he sucks onto your neck, marring your skin with purple bruises.

He scents your mating gland, eyes darkening in pure animalistic lust. "Strip for me, omega."

It takes everything in you to muster the ability to stand on your two feet but the thought of pleasing your alpha sends your mind into overdrive.

Immediately, you pull your hoodie over your head and unclasp your bra, letting your boobs spill out into the open air, your nipples pink and perked.

You shimmy out of your sweats, leaving you in just your panties. But as you grasp the waistband of your panties, Hyunjin grabs your hand.

The action has you confused until he flips you back onto the bed. "I'll do the honors, sweetheart."

Hyunjin latches himself onto your nipples, sucking and squeezing on them like his life depended on it.

You whimper in pleasure and pain, the heat in your core intensifying. "Alpha."

Hyunjin grips the hem of your panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your most sacred possession.

Hyunjin groans at the sight of your slick coated pussy, hole clenching around the air in need and slick just dripping down your nether region.

Hyunjin locks his eyes with yours as he bends down to face your sopping cunt. Experimentally, Hyunjin licks up your slit and you gasp at the feeling, pleasure starting to consume you as he sucks on your clit like hard candy.

In a haze, you feel his fingers poking your entrance and you whimper as he starts to slip them in, your moans increasing in frequency and your breathing unsteady.

Within seconds, Hyunjin has you coming undone on his tongue, back arching off the bed and hands gripping the sheet so hard you might pop a vein. You come with a loud call of his name as your body shudders in pleasure.

"Think you can take me, omega?" Hyunjin asks once he’s made sure to lick up all of your juices, lips glistening in your cum.

"Yes, please. Alpha, please give me your cock."

"Only I get to see you so weak and vulnerable, right? Huang Renjun and Lee Donghyuk won't have the privilege of tasting this sweet pussy, right?"

"No, Alpha! Only you can have me!"

"Your body's only mine to touch, pleasure, and this pussy," Hyunjin cups your heat, making you moan at the touch. "belongs to me and only I get to dump my cum in there and knot you until you're full and swelling with my seed."

You whimper at his words, fully wrecked with arousal.

"You'd like that, won't you? You'd like to be stuffed with my knot until you're bursting with my cum? Can your little pussy take my cock? You're such a small girl, will your pussy be enough for me?"

"Yes, Alpha! Please take me."

"Good girl," Hyunjin praises with a soft kiss to your lips, breaking the contact a second later to strip himself of his clothing.

You rake your eyes over his form, the way his hair shines in sweat to the way his skin glows ever so brightly. You drink in his toned chest, muscular biceps and perfect abs. You can feel yourself get even wetter as he rids himself of his pants and boxers, the sight of his twitching cock causing another gush of arousal to exit you.

Hyunjin notices and gives you a smirk, obviously proud at your reaction.

Your mouth waters at his cock, the tip a fiery red with bulging veins on the body. He's long and thick, so thick that you question if it'll fit inside you.

"I'll fuck you well, omega," he growls as he approaches, eyes locked on yours and he looks absolutely feral. The sight has you keening, slick gushing out of you as you await his next move.

"Present for your alpha," he commands, staring you down.

In less than a second, you're on your knees with your ass raised in the air, face planted down on the bed.

Hyunjin groans at the sight of your gushing core, cock hardening even more if that's possible. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed, hands cupping a feel of your soft flesh before tracing the tip of his cock on your nether lips.

You whine in protest but a low rumble from Hyunjin shuts you up. Carefully, he slips into your cunt, inching his cock inside till he bottoms out.

You're so well lubricated that you don't really feel any pain at the intrusion, only slight discomfort that goes away once he bottoms out.

You moan at the feeling of being so full, pressing your ass even more against his hips, bending your body into a 45 degree angle.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good around me."

Hyunjin wastes no time and begins pounding into you roughly, each thrust pinpointed at your g-spot, making your toes curl in delight.

Your moans start rising in pitch, your walls clenching around him like a vice and Hyunjin growls, the action making him pound you harder until it has you screaming.

"Do I fuck you good? Does my cock feel good? This pretty little pussy's only mine to use, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you gurgle. "You feel so good, Alpha. Use me all you want but please, please, let me cum."

Hyunjin continues pistoning his hips into yours, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix, and it has you keening into him, your body trembling in pleasure.

"Are you close, Omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum? Knot you until you burst with my seed and swell with my pups?"

"Yes, yes, please. Alpha, please," you sputter. "Alpha, please mark me."

You bare your neck to him, allowing him to scent you and Hyunjin reaches down to rub your clit. The added pressure has you squeezing around him, your muscles clenched as you reach your high, face contorted in pleasure and mouth hung open in a silent scream.

As the first wave of your orgasm rushes over you, Hyunjin bites into your mating gland, piercing the soft skin and sucking on it, officially marking you as his.

You moan at the added pleasure, mind starting to clear a little. But as Hyunjin continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the prolonged sensation transitions from pleasure into pain.

"Alpha," you whimper.

"Just a little more, sweetheart," Hyunjin kisses the back of your neck as his knot starts to swell and attaches itself onto your cervix, jets of cum spurting out of him and painting your walls white.

The slight pain makes you whimper lowly, but the sound doesn't go unnoticed.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Hyunjin asks worriedly, turning your face around a little so that he could see you.

"I'm fine, it just hurts a little."

Hyunjin carefully positions you on your side so you can lay down comfortably, spooning you from behind.

"Can't believe it took a heat to realize each other's feelings," Hyunjin laughs after a moment of silence, the two of you still breathless.

"I thought I was the dumb one," you tease.

"Ready to play with fire, omega?"

You squeal as he lightly tickles your side, leaning your body into his.

"This feels nice," you muse, nuzzling your cheek onto his bicep.

"Which one? The fact that we're finally mates or the fact that I just fucked you senseless and you've still got my knot in you?"

"Alpha!" you blush at his words, your shy demeanor coming back and you couldn't help but cover your face in embarrassment.

"Hey, none of that," Hyunjin chides as he grasps your hand, interlocking it with his. "You don't have to be shy with me."

You smile in his embrace, feeling his knot start to deflate after a while and Hyunjin carefully pulls out of you, making you whine at the loss of contact.

"We'll go again later, sweetheart. Heats don't end with just one fuck."

"Hyunjin~" you whine as you turn around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Hyunjin chuckles as he strokes your hair, pulling you closer into him. "I love you, my little Omega."

He can feel you smile at his words and his heart swells as he hears you say the three most sacred words back to him.

"And I love you, my handsome Alpha."

379 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

the normal one {Leo Valdez x Reader}

Words: 14k

Summary: Your sister is the demigod. You’re just the unlucky one who got dragged into her mess.

Genre: angst??

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - omg happy first day of nano y’all.

---

You never knew your sister was a demigod.

Of course you didn't; it's not the kind of thought that crosses the mind of a logical individual, though it seems obvious now that you're being greeted with the proof.

Emma has never been particularly normal. She's three years older than you, and yet she carries herself like she's been through years upon years of unforgiven trauma, glaring at anyone who dares even speak to her. You used to just describe her as grumpy, not-a-morning-person, just leave her alone and you'll be fine.

Now, you're beginning to think it might not be as simple as all that.

Your day starts off pretty normal; you wake up, greeted by the sunlight streaming through the curtains you once again forgot to close over the previous night. You look down, not surprised to see you're still dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and a loose white shirt instead of the pyjamas your sister has been trying so desperately to make you wear at night. You got ready, brushing the knots from your hair before marching downstairs.

Your mum is in the kitchen, whistling to herself, frail hands forever trembling around the pot of boiling oatmeal; you and your mum don't really talk that much. She favours Emma over you, and she's never found much point in wasting breath on the child she doesn't necessarily like. She'll smile, feed you, let you have a roof over your head, but neither of you pretend like your relationship with each other is permanent. One day you're going to move out, and your mum is never going to contact you, never going to step foot in your house, never going to give you a house-warming gift.

You're fine with that.

Emma is sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. It's not even that weird of a sight, considering you've always known Emma to be into the dramatics. You sit across from her, folding your arms over the table before whispering, rather loudly, "Rough night?"

Her head jerks up, revealing her wild, bloodshot eyes. "What?"

You laugh, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. "You look like shit, Em. Where have you been all night?"

Her jaw twitches, and she doesn't respond, which is a pretty normal reply for her, especially at this time of day.

"Whatever," you mumble. "Can I borrow that fancy deodorant you bought back from that summer camp you go to?" Emma nods. You grin, banishing the conversation all together as you stand and skip upstairs.

So, yeah. The day was starting off pretty normal. Not a single worry in sight. You would go to school, mope around classes for a few hours, come home and stress eat over a pile of unfinished homework that was probably due multiple days ago.

Instead, you have to deal with the boulders being thrown through Emma's bedroom window.

The first one hits just as your grabbing Emma's fancy deodorant from her bottom drawer. There is no warning, no low whoosh sound that would give you a chance to step away and make a run for it - no. Instead, it goes straight to the shattered glass and bloodied arms. Instead, it goes straight to the boulder smashing against your hand, crushing your fingers against the wall.

You are stuck, legs crumbling beneath you. You should be slipping to the floor right now, probably unconscious, maybe dead, but your hand, trapped between the biggest rock known to man and the wall, keeps you upright. Blood leaks from gashes forming on your fingers, dribbling down your wrist, your arm, dripping onto your knees. You stare at the scene in shock for a moment, unable to register what on earth has actually just happened.

And then Emma is screaming your name, thundering up the stairs, and you're crying out, trying to form words but they get lodged in your throat, replaced by the overwhelming pain and realisation that you're going to die, you're going to fucking die on your sisters bedroom floor because there is so much blood, and there is no way in hell you won't be drained before the end of this day, probably within the next ten minutes, probably within-

The door opens. Emma barrels inside, wielding a golden sword that honestly just makes you think of course she has a golden sword.

"You son of a bitch!" she cries out, darting to her bedroom window. She stands upon the sill and waves her arms at the sky. "You got the wrong L/N, you idiot! Get back here and finish me off if you're so tough!"

"Emma," you croak, tears flooding down your cheeks. "Little help here."

"It's the giants." She leaps off the window sill and swivels round, darting to your side. Something has changed in her, something you've never seen before; she seems stronger, her eyes a little brighter yet still eerily dark at the same time.

She crouches beside you and begins manoeuvring your trapped hand back and forth. You hiss, throwing your head back as blood spurts down your arm, staining your shirt. Emma grits her teeth, keeping her eyes peeled on her work. "They've found me," she continues muttering. "We need to get out of here - all of us. You, me, Mum. They know where the house is. How did they find out where the bloody house is?"

"Can you shut the fuck up talking crazy for one second?"

Emma pays you no mind, taking a tiny knife from her back pocket and wriggling it between the wall and the boulder. "I'll have to get in touch with Chiron, tell him I'm bringing a few mortals with me to camp this summer."

You grunt. "I'm not going to some hippy-Christian summer camp with you."

"It's not a hippy-Christian summer camp." Emma swats your head, forcing you to look away from the blood dribbling down your arm. "It's a place that will keep you safe, alright? So don't argue."

"Don't tell me what to - AH!" The boulder falls, crashing to the floor. Tables rattle, things tumble off shelves, and your hand is freed. You pull it to your chest, but Emma doesn't let it go unaided for long - she grabs your wrist and tugs it back, examining the damage; your nerves have clearly been ripped, fingers cold from lack of feeling. Gashes have been made into the back of your hand, fingers torn to shreds.

She shakes her head. "I'll get Will to have a look at this."

"No, you idiot, you'll call 999 before-"

"We have to go now. That giant will be back soon enough, especially once he realises I'm taking you guys with me." Emma doesn't even give you a chance to respond before she's grabbing your good hand and dragging you from her bedroom. You hiss in pain, stumbling behind her, but there's really no point in arguing. When Emma has her mind set on something, she goes for it no matter what objections people put in place. Mum always said she gets that from her dad, but you've never met the man, so you wouldn't know.

Speaking of your dear old mother, the woman doesn't even give you a second glance when Emma drags you into the living room and shoves you onto the sofa next to her; she's frozen in fear, fingers pulled to her lips as she bites on the nails, a habit she's had for as long as you can remember.

She shakes her head, dazed. "He's coming back to me. He's sending signs."

Emma groans. Looking over, you see her with a phone pressed to her ear, big and bulky with an oversized antennae peeking from the top of it. "Mum, that wasn't Dad sending signs. That was a giant trying to kill me."

You blink, certain your blood loss is contributing to this wild conversation somehow. "A giant? Your dad?"

Emma raises a finger, telling you to be quiet. Mum whimpers at the movement and goes back to chewing her nails, gazing steadily out the window. She looks terrified, but her knee is bouncing in that way it always does when she's excited. You've given up trying to understand her. In fact, you've given up trying to understand your entire family.

So you just sit there, trying to fight off the black spots dotting your vision and the blood dribbling through your fingers; you don't know why Emma hasn't called 999 yet, considering you're basically on the verge of unconsciousness, but your throat is too dry to ask. Instead you listen as she says, "Leo! Where are you? Are you close?" and then she sighs in relief, and within three minutes, there's a knock on the door and she's barrelling out of the living room to grab it.

You look up, dazed, when she returns with a small curly haired boy in tow. He's a bit scruffy, you have to admit, but in a cute way, like a bunny with a bit of dirt on its nose.

"Not really the time for guests, is it, Em?" you grumble, before falling face first into the floor.

---

You wake up, and immediately wish you hadn't.

Emma always messes things up - always.

Her life has to be so damn dramatic all the damn time, and you're getting pretty damn sick of being dragged into it. All you want to do is sit in bed with a nice blanket and a cup of tea, maybe practice a bit of witchcraft, maybe sink into the dirt and become one with nature.

You don't want to be hunted down by rabid, murderous giants, that's for sure.

You also don't want to be trapped in a hospital bed at some hippy-Christian camp you don't even know the name of. But that's exactly what has happened.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of white, cloth walls and multiple eager faces gazing down at you. Most of them have blonde hair and the brightest eyes you have ever seen, and then there's that curly haired boy, and Emma herself, and there's a guy who is half horse-

"Oh god, this is death. I've died."

"She's awake!" the curly haired boy - Leo, you remember - cries, throwing his hands in the air. "Good job, Apollo kids! Another point for you!"

"Shut up, Leo." One of the many blonde haired kids steps forward and places the back of his hand against your forehead; in any other situation, you might have pulled away and told him to step back, but the feel of his skin against your own is surprisingly soothing. It's almost against your will when you melt into it, eyes gliding shut. Your hit with images of you and Emma as children, running through fields, her punching that guy in the nose because he called you short that one time, and-

He snatches his hand back, startling you back to reality. "The fevers definitely going down," he says, turning to Emma.

"Uh, excuse me," you chirp, raising a timid hand. "She's not my legal guardian, I'll have you know." You glance at Emma. "Where is my legal guardian, by the way?"

Emma rolls her eyes, and that's answer enough.

"Ah. Frollicking in the leaves again?"

Emma hums. "I left her to it; we have bigger things to worry about than her love life."

"That's a bit morbid, Emma," says Leo. "Love is a magnificent thing."

"So is me not dying," you say, before turning back to the blonde haired boy. "Can I leave?"

The boy blinks, staring at you like you have two heads. It almost makes you uncomfortable, but his eyes are so pretty, and the way his palm felt against your forehead-

Leo shoves to the front. "Will here is gay, Y/N. Stop staring."

You look away, flustered. "I wasn't even staring."

"Yeah, you were. I see that look of lust on people all the time - I get it a lot, to tell you the truth."

You look at his curls, the oil on his tattered overalls, the dirt smothering both his cheeks, nose and hands.

"I'm sure you do, big guy. I'm sure you do."

Will sighs, shoving Leo out the way again. "I'm gonna do a final check up before I let you leave; I can't give mortals any nectar or ambrosia, so the healing process might take-"

Awkwardly, Emma coughs. The entire tent goes silent, turning to her with raised brows and narrowed eyes, but all you can focus on is Will's strange choice of vocabulary. Nectar. Ambrosia. Those don't sound like common prescription pain meds.

"Emma..." Will drawls. "What have you-"

"I'll talk to them," Emma mumbles. "Can you guys just give us a minute?"

You grab Will's hand. "Please don't leave me alone with her."

Will gives you a timid smile, squeezing your hand gently before he, Leo and all the other blonde haired strangers exit the tent, leaving just you and Emma to your own devices.

And honestly, Emma's your best friend. She means the world to you. She's the one person in that god forsaken house that actually pays you any attention, and it doesn't even matter that she's the favourite, that Mum basically licks the ground she walks on for a reason you have yet to pinpoint. You love Emma with all your heart, but right now, you would rather be anywhere but in her presence.

You pull the quilt up to your chin and say, "I'm very confused."

Emma pulls a stool over and takes a seat. "I know. I should have explained. I need to explain."

"Yes, you do."

She hollows out her cheeks, which only makes your fear spike - you've never seen Emma act like this. She's usually so brave, bold, confident. She doesn't do a single thing without planning it out perfectly beforehand, and yet here she is, looking completely stumped. You almost feel bad for her until you remember the way she completely ignored your pleas for her to call 999 when you were fairly certain you were bleeding out.

"Well?" you push. "Go on, Em. I'm listening."

Emma sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Do you have any idea where we are right now?"

"Absolutely none. There was a guy with a horse body-"

"That's Chiron. He's a centaur."

You blink. "Okay."

"This place is called Camp Half-Blood; it's where I go to every summer."

"Well, I assumed."

"It's a camp for Half-Bloods. Demigods. People who are half-god, like. . . like me. Like Leo, and Will, and probably loads of other kids, too."

It's starting to get jumbled now, a string of words that don't form to make a coherent, sensible sentence.

You don't even respond, simply staring at Emma until she is forced to continue.

"It sounds insane, I know, but I'm not lying. I'm a demigod, Y/N, daughter of Ares."

It goes silent, because of course it does. What are you even meant to say to that? The logical part of you says to just call her out on her lies, ask her where the hell you actually are and where Mum is and why she brought you here in the first place. But the other half recognises that Emma being the daughter of a war god kind of makes perfect sense.

In your conflicted state of disbelief, you say neither of those things. Instead, you look at Emma and say, "Mum hooked up with a god?"

Emma breathes a laugh, closing her eyes. "Yes, little one, she did."

"And she couldn't have done the same thing when she was conceiving me?"

Emma winces. "I don't want to talk about Mum conceiving either of us, thank you very much."

You shake your head. "So that's why she's always hated me."

"Mum doesn't hate you-"

"I'm the repair kid. I'm the one who-"

Leo pops his head in the door. "Did someone say repair kid?"

Emma looks up, giving Leo a tired little wave. "You can come back in now. Y/N's all caught up."

"Oh, happy days!" Leo marches in and reaches for your good hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus. Nice to properly meet you."

"Y/N L/N, child of - uh - that guy from McDonalds.

Emma stands up quickly, grabbing Leo's shoulders as his eyes narrow. "Alright! Now that we've got the niceties out of the way, I think it's time we let Will back in here so he can do his final check up. Sound good?"

"Sounds fantastic," you mumble, sinking down into the pillows. "Bring the nice looking blonde boy to me now, please."

----

Camp Half-Blood kind of looks like a dream scape. But a really bad one.

A nightmare-scape.

There's sword fighting, and teeny tiny girls in green dresses that get wildly offended when you call them Tinkerbell. There's people riding around on winged horses like it's no big deal, and you're almost certain it was raining when you left the house earlier, so why is it sunny and warm right now?

Leo is the one who greets you when you're finally allowed to step out of the tent - the infirmary, apparently, run by the kids of Apollo. All of them were really nice. They all had really nice hands.

"You're looking fresh," Leo says, tucking his hands in his pockets as the two of you stroll across camp together. "Will and his siblings really know what they're doing, huh? I had my doubts, with you being a mortal and all. I don't know how often they work on people like you."

You shrug. "It was just a bit of nerve damage in my hand."

"You passed out."

"I blanked. It happens to the best of us."

Leo's lips twitch. It shows you just the briefest hint of dimples, and you hate that it immediately turns your tough-guy demeanour to mush. It seems like you have a soft spot for demigods. You look away quickly, tucking your hands - bandage and all - into your pockets. It's this movement that seems to tilt Leo's attention to the clothes you're wearing, all of which are smothered in your own blood.

Pleasant.

He grimaces, stopping dead in his tracks. You would continue walking, being an independent mortal and all that, but you don't know your way around this place, and you'd rather not accidentally walk into a fighting arena. So, you stop and look back at him. "What's wrong?"

"You need a change of clothes, my friend."

You blink. "No, I don't think-"

"They might be a bit big on you, but I have the perfect pair of overalls you could borrow. Come on. To Bunker 9 we go."

He starts walking away before you even have a chance to protest. It really puts the fear of god - gods? - in you, because at that very moment, a winged horse slams into the floor at your side. You squeal, immediately sprinting after him, and the bastard doesn't even turn back to look at what has just startled you. He merely grins, cocky and annoying, and says, "Yeah, stick with me and that won't happen."

You grunt, knowing he's right.

The two of you arrive at Bunker 9 in no time. It's like an old bomb shelter, with tin walls and a door that looks like it's about to fall off it's hinges. You make a joke about why Leo can't just fix the hinges, considering he's a machine expert and all that, and Leo rolls his eyes and says, "I'm busy enough as it is."

The room lights up without a switch needing to be flipped, which you think is pretty cool.

"My school used to have lights like that," you point out, gazing up at the ceiling. "They were motion censored."

"Mm. They're handy little things until you haven't moved in fifteen minutes and they switch off whilst you're still standing there. The amount of times I've nearly put a screw through my finger." He shakes his head, tossing aside discarded tools in his search for the overalls he promised you. "Mental."

You pluck at a random copper wire hanging out of a drawer. "So, is this like. . . your dorm room?"

"Hm?" Leo looks at you. "Oh, no. I don't sleep in here - I sleep in the Hephaestus cabin. I'm the head counsellor, so I have to keep an eye on things, you know."

You raise a brow. "Is your bed more comfy in the Hephaestus cabin?"

"That, too." He blushes, lowering his eyes back to his search. "But honestly, my job is pretty important. I've got to keep that place running, keep all my siblings in check."

"I'm not being funny, if Emma tried telling me what to do, I would tell her to piss off."

Leo scoffs. "Yeah, I got that vibe off you."

"So how do you do it?"

Leo pauses, glancing over his shoulder."How do I do what?"

You push yourself up onto the counter, ignoring the saw dust that now litters your hands and the back of your already ruined jeans. "How do you get them to listen to you? You don't look to be much older than I am - surely you have older siblings in that cabin of yours. It can't be easy getting them to fall into line, too."

Slowly, Leo turns. He leans against the chest of drawers he has been digging through, regarding you with a single raised brow. His gaze is hard, but you keep the eye contact, smiling just the tiniest bit.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he stretches his hand out, palm towards the ceiling, and uncurls his fingers, revealing a bright orange flame dancing in the centre. It doesn't make you jump as it probably should have; instead, you are mesmerised, caught in the slick movements of the tiny ball of fire.

You slowly reach out. Leo slams his hand closed and pulls back. "You can't touch it."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were fully going to touch it."

You scowl, folding your arms over your chest. "What was the point in showing me that?"

He turns on his heel, going back to digging through the chest of drawers. "That's why I'm head counsellor - no other child of Hephaestus can do that." He glances at you. "You don't think it's weird?"

"Well, yeah - very weird." You shrug. "But who am I to judge? I can do this thing where I dislocate my shoulder, and that's pretty weird, too."

Leo blinks, mouth opening like you've caught him off guard. He swipes his tongue along his lower lip before he turns away and mumbles, "Yeah. That is pretty weird."

Bunker 9 is doused in silence after that. Leo rummages through his drawers as you inspect every nook and cranny of the place, running your fingers along the tin walls, picking up tools you have never seen before; you can feel Leo watching you from the corner of his eye, probably making sure you're not stealing anything. Honestly, the golden screwdriver set is pretty tempting, but you wouldn't want to risk getting on a demigod's bad side.

Finally, after what feels like far too long, Leo pops his head up, grinning broadly with a set of overalls in his hands. "Found them!" He tosses them at you with no warning; you just barely manage to catch them. "They got shrunk in the wash, so I was gonna rip them up for hand towels in here, but I'm sure they'll be more useful for you."

You pull them into your chest. "They smell like oil."

Leo spreads his oil stained hands. "Yeah, well, that's how life is, love. I'll let you get changed - I promise I won't peak!"

Laughing, he leaves Bunker 9; his footsteps stop there, though, and there's a glimmer of relief when you realise he isn't just walking away and leaving you to your own devices.

You get changed quickly, bundling your blood stained clothes into a ball and shoving them beneath your arm - you don't know where you can possibly wash them, but you refuse to leave this camp in Leo's old overalls. First of all, they're much too big on you, pooling over your feet despite Leo's own small stature. The striped shirt he gave you to put underneath it has oil spots embedded in it, too, which just makes you look like even more of a slump. Nonetheless, you throw open the door to Bunker 9 with your arms outstretched and call out, "How do I look?"

Leo peaks his head around and freezes.

You drop your arms, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. This isn't a romance movie."

His nose erupts into flames. He yelps, swatting the fire away before he awkwardly coughs and says, "Good. You look good."

You grin. "Thank you. Do you have any idea where I can put these?" You offer up your pile of clothes. Leo takes them from your hands and tosses them over your shoulder, back into Bunker 9. You frown. "Do you have a washing machine in there?"

"It won't take me long to rig one up. I'll have them washed before you leave, don't worry." He offers his arm, grinning yet again. "Now, how about we go up to the dining pavilion and get some food? I'm starving!"

----

Leo did not know one of his best friends was related to such an attractive individual.

It wasn't really that big of a shock when he walked in and saw you sitting there in the living room, looking dazed and out of it with blood dribbling from some pretty severe cuts in your hand. Emma had rang him and filled him on all the details, so there was no surprise at the scene. And plus, Emma's not exactly ugly. She has that rough look to her, sure, but Leo would probably date her if she asked him. Again, it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked in and saw you there, all pretty with the innocence only a mortal could have.

But then he got a glimpse of your personality.

No. Scratch that. He got an entire bucketload of your personality, and he was still craving more by the end of it.

He tried his hardest to fight off these feelings, because he's felt them before - with almost every person he finds attractive, in fact. He gets it lodged in his head that he can impress them, that this is the one and he can make it work if he just tries hard enough. It's kind of hard not to think that way - hopeful, desperate, almost - when all his friends are hooking up and getting boyfriends and girlfriends, generally just having the time of their damn lives. And Leo is just. . . making machines.

But then the two of you went and had dinner together, and he found himself asking if you wanted to go for a walk along the lake before you would have to go to bed. You had agreed, and the conversation had continued, and Leo has never laughed so much in his entire life.

You tell stories of these little memories you have with Emma, enjoying the embarrassing little details you add in whenever you can. Leo struggles to imagine the daughter of Ares being anything close to the Emma you're describing, but he can tell in the passion of your words you're not telling lies.

"What about you, though?" he asks.

Your hands drop to your side, smile curving. "What about me?"

"Well, you're going on about Emma and all the cool stuff she used to do - what about you, though? What have you been up to?"

It's a pretty simple question in Leo's mind; with his ADHD brain, he is able to come up with a million different answers on the spot.

You, however, look at him with a raised brow. He stares right back.

Finally, you crack and say, "Uh. . . I've been doing some school work, I guess."

Leo blinks. "You go to school?"

"I do indeed. I'm studying psychology, but it's really difficult, so I might drop it."

Leo nods like he understands, even though he doesn't. All he really remembers of his school days is him sitting in the back of the classroom plotting his next escape. "Interesting," he says. "Does Emma go to school?"

"She's doing an apprenticeship at some mechanics place. She dropped out when she turned sixteen."

"Naughty."

You shrug. "She does what she wants. I would love to drop out, but Mum would flip." Leo glances at you; the mention of your Mum seems to be something a little heavy, as your smile immediately dips, your shoulders slumping. Leo knows he probably shouldn't pry, but he's Leo, so he does anyway.

"Is your mum tough on you?"

"No. She's not tough at all. She's not light, either. She just. . . lives with me, I guess."

"She just lives with you?"

You inhale, looking out over the lake. For a moment, Leo thinks you might start crying, but then he shakes that thought out of his mind, because you don't seem like the type to cry in front of a stranger, and that's really all Leo is, which is why he shouldn't expect you to open up to him right now, not if this is something you don't want to-

"Mum only had me because she wanted to see if she could get over Emma's dad." You wince. "Ares, I guess."

Leo pauses. His fingertips start glowing, a sign of his anger, but he shoves them in his pockets and dispels the flames before you see them. "That's horrible."

You shrug halfheartedly. "It's fine. She was crazy about the guy from what I've heard - it's why Emma's her favourite. She's the only piece of him she has left, really."

"But that doesn't mean-"

"You don't have to tell me she's a bad mother, Leo. I know. I've known from day one; I've just gotten used to it." You pick up a rock and toss it into the lake. "Honestly, we're better off out of each other's hair anyway; put us in a room together and make us talk, we'll probably burn the house down."

Leo doesn't know how to respond; he's never felt like that. Ever. Even with his dad, there's always been some level of affection there, even though his dad is a Greek god who only pops in when he wants something; Hephaestus has never straight-up ignored him, never made his favouritism clear.

Leo finds he wants to punch something, and not even the steady whisper of the lake can calm him down. He walks a little bit behind you as the silence settles, you picking up random rocks and tossing them into the water, apologising profusely when the eighteen tentacled octopus pokes its head up and yells at you.

Your calmness makes it even worse, though, because that lets Leo know that this treatment is something you've grown used to. You've never known any different.

----

Three days in, and Emma still insists on keeping you at Camp Half-Blood.

"You're not leaving until that giant is dead, and that might take a while."

You drape your arm over your forehead, still sprawled across her bed in the Ares cabin. It's a pretty musty cabin, to be fair, but you won't mention that when all of Emma's siblings are glaring daggers at you. "Do you have any idea how many assessments I'm missing? Mr Wrightchuck is gonna be furious with me, and I do not have the mental energy to deal with his shit right now."

Emma throws a pair of shorts at you. "Shut up and fold those for me."

You grunt, sitting up and getting to work; you've decided to make yourself at least a little bit useful around here. These people were nice enough to offer you accommodation, even though it's clear being around mortals isn't exactly their everyday routine. The amount of times you've hissed in pain because of your hand and been offered a chunk of ambrosia is uncountable.

"So," Emma starts suddenly, taking you by surprise; she hardly ever initiates conversations, preferring to brood in her own head when she can get away with it.

You look at her, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the bright pink laundry hamper she stole off your Aunt Grace. She's not even looking up, lips pursed, eyebrows raised as if expecting you to fill in the blanks from that single word.

"So, what?" you push. "What did I just say, Emma? I don't have the mental energy-"

"You and Leo have been hanging out an awful lot these past few days."

You pause. That certainly wasn't what you had been expecting to hear.

"Uh. . . I suppose. He's a cool guy. Cool fire, and stuff." You wriggle your fingers, imitating flames, though Emma's sideways glare makes you mumble an apology and drop your hand to your side. "Is there something wrong with Leo and I being pals?"

"Leo's a very. . . hopeful boy," Emma replies. "He tends to get lost in his own fantasies sometimes."

You blink. "What, like kinks?"

Emma groans, throwing some socks at you. "No, you idiot! When he likes someone, he tends to get a little carried away. It's quite sad to see, actually."

"What does that have to do with me and him being friends?"

Emma glances at you; you recognise that look. It makes your stomach curl, heat rising to your cheeks. You look away, coughing awkwardly into her shirt before you mumble, "No. No, absolutely not. Leo doesn't like me that way."

Emma shrugs, grin spreading across her face. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm just saying, if you don't like him that way, try and break the illusion as soon as possible. It's easier to just rip the bandaid off."

"You're heartless."

"I'm a daughter of Ares, Y/N. We don't bullshit people. We say it how it is."

You scowl, snatching another set of trousers from her wash pile and getting to work, trying to ignore the thump of your heartbeat, which suddenly seems to have sped up a fair bit.

----

You lose track of how long it has been since you last saw your mother.

This happens sometimes, these long stretches of time when neither of you will acknowledge the other person; it's easier that way, just pretending she doesn't exist, just pretending the house is empty besides you.

You've been caught up in camp activities these past few weeks. Your hand is starting to heal, the nerves tingling, which Will says is a good sign. You've been talking to other campers, learning more and more about the world Emma has kept hidden from you for so long, a world that fascinates you, a world you will never want to be properly part of.

Now, however, you see her. Sitting on her own by the lake, knobbly knees pulled into her chest, dazed eyes locked on the swirling water in front of her. The little sea creatures have long since hidden, probably put-off by the presence of a stranger, but your mother doesn't seem to care. She just sits all on her own, long hair billowing out behind her as the moon begins to rise in the distance.

You lean against a tree just a little bit behind her and say, "Are you not cold?"

She doesn't even flinch, like the voice of her child has no effect on her whatsoever. Instead, she digs her fingernails into the dirt and grabs a handful of stones, lobbing them into the lake.

You sigh and crouch down next to her; she smells of sweat and dirt, a sure sign that she hasn't been taking much care of herself these past few weeks. "Let's go back to the Big House, Mum. You're gonna get hypothermia out here."

"He will protect me," she replies. "He's always protecting me."

"You mean Ares? Emma's Dad?"

"He's protected me from day one; he loves Emma and I. He's just busy."

You swallow, staring at the side of her face. "I'm sure he does, Mum. But he's clearly running a little late right now, so he's asked me to come make sure you get wrapped up before the wind eats you alive." You gaze at the trees. "Which I'm pretty sure is a thing that actually happens here."

Finally, your mum gazes at you, lower lip trembling. "I just want him to talk to me."

You freeze; it's most unlike your mother to talk like this, especially to you. She rants and raves about Ares to Emma, but she barely pays you any attention when it comes to things like this. You don't really know how to handle it, whether you should comfort her and tell her Ares loves her - this Greek god, surviving somewhere on Mount Olympus, overlooking the entire world. Yes, of course he still loves her. Of course he does.

But the other half of you just doesn't want to lie. You don't want to get her hopes up any more than they already are, because anyone with a brain will be able to see that Ares has long since forgotten about the mortal woman he apparently fell in love with, and the daughter they created together.

So, you grab your mum's hand and drag her to her feet. She slumps against you like a child having a tantrum, and you have to basically lift her off the floor to get anywhere. Nonetheless, you eventually have her standing, and together, you walk up the hill, back to the main camp.

It's dark, probably past curfew, but campers are still walking about. Mostly the Apollo cabin, never off their feet with the casualties they have to tend to in a day, though there are other campers enjoying a late night cup of hot chocolate by the fire, laughing merrily. They don't notice you walking up the hill, don't notice your mum mumbling to herself, words you can't even grasp being right beside her.

"The Ares cabin," your mum suddenly blurts.

You pause, nearly stumbling over your own two feet as your head whips around to the direction she is now staring, eyes wide.

"Yes, Mum," you grumble. "That is the Ares cabin - now, can we keep moving before my fingers fall off?"

"Is that where you've been sleeping these past few weeks?"

You narrow your eyes. "What? Yes, Mum, it is; Emma lets me sleep with her, now can we please-"

"He isn't your father."

You stop dead in your tracks; oh no. You've heard this line of speech before, and it's never pleasant. Mum gets angry, enraged, when she thinks you're trying to take on the same status as her beloved Emma, daughter of the war god. She likes to keep you in your place, which is a good few tiers below everybody else, apparently.

"I know that," you say quickly. "Emma was just nice enough to lend me her bed so I didn't have to sleep in the Hermes cabin - you know I don't know my way around here, so-"

"He wouldn't like you sleeping amongst his children. He told me."

"He what now?"

She shakes out of your grip, gritting her teeth. Her eyes are wild, dilated beyond anything you've ever seen, and when she next speaks, the words are a cry. "He told me!" She shakes her head, gripping the strands of hair between trembling fingers. "He's so mad at me, Y/N; he told me it was disrespectful to have a child with another man. He said he would burn you to the ground if you stepped out of line. He said he would kill you, just to teach me a lesson for going behind his back!"

You blink. You're used to this. You're meant to be used to this, but holy mother of god - gods? - you don't know what she's on about. You've never heard her talk like this. You've never heard her speak of your death before, and the words coming from her mouth are so eerie, so fucking terrifying that you stumble back, hands trembling, tears rushing to the surface.

"You crazy bitch."

She laughs, loud and clear so the entire camp's attention turns directly to her. "That's what he said! He called me insane, and then he said he loved me and gave me a child - and that child certainly wasn't you."

"Mum, what are you-"

"He talks to me sometimes, you know." She nods, hands still buried in her hair, tugging her eyes back so she looks demented. "In my head, he talks. We have little conversations, but he's been so much more talkative since we arrived here, like this place really is my home." She releases her hair, eyes dimming. "But you're not meant to be here; he told me that, too. He said Emma and I were welcome amongst his kind, but not you - not a bastard like you."

You look around; all the demigods are on their feet now, staring at the scene in confusion. It's embarrassing, absolutely mortifying to suddenly be the centre of their attention, especially under such circumstances.

"Okay," you croak out. "Okay, that's fine - I'll go, then. Leave you and Emma here. I don't mind, Mum. You don't have to get angry."

Mum's nostrils flare. "It's not me who's angry - it's him-"

"Well, tell him that he doesn't have to get his godly bollocks in a twist, because I'm leaving." You raise your hands in faux surrender, taking a few tentative steps back. "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again."

The words hurt, but they're the truth - especially now. Mum doesn't respond, merely stares as you take a few more steps backwards, turn on your heel and dart towards the Ares cabin, fighting desperately to push the tears away, because crying is stupid.

This is just your mum being. . . your mum, just as she's always been. Sure, her words tonight were a little harsher than you're used to, but her neglect has given you thick skin, thick enough to take her words on the chin.

You see the Ares cabin, and run right past it towards the lake. You nearly slip in the mud on your way down the hill, catching yourself before finally crumbling to the floor against a tree by the lake side.

You'll take her words on the chin, but you'll cry over them first.

----

When Leo hears the news, he's pretty sure his blood turns to fire.

He's half-asleep, but that doesn't stop his understanding of Will's words, his descriptions of the scene he just witnessed at the camp fire.

And the thing is, after hearing all the things your mum has done to you, Leo isn't even surprised to hear it's finally boiled over.

Doesn't make him any less angry.

He storms out of the Hephaestus cabin wearing nothing but his pyjamas. He feels the heat beneath his skin, threatening to break the surface as he forces it down, gritting his teeth. He's half tempted to turn to the Big House to give your mum a piece of his mind, but his main concern at the moment is you, and where you've gone, and where you plan on going, because according to Will, your last words to her were "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again." That's a horrible thought. Leo doesn't want to think about that.

He heads to the lake, because according to Will, that's the direction you were running, and Leo knows how much you like the lake; it calms you down, you said, and he stored that piece of information in his brain for weeks, as if in preparation for this very moment.

He stops at the top of the hill and gazes down, lighting up the darkness with a ball of fire cupped in the palm of his hand. You don't flinch at the sudden intrusion, instead curling into a tighter ball against the roots of a tree, burying your head in your knees. The sight breaks his heart. He swallows, slowly waddling down the hill, careful not to fall in the dirt.

You don't look up when he finally arrives at your side. "Y/N."

"Who told you?"

Leo crouches. "Will. He said you seemed upset."

"That's literally nobody's business."

Leo sighs, slumping against the tree beside you; his shoulder brushes your own, and for a moment, you stiffen against his side. "You don't have to tell me what happened if you're not cool with that," he says. "I'm not being nosy or anything."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm really not. I just wanted to make sure that witch didn't hurt your feelings too bad." He pauses. "What did she actually say?"

Your head snaps up, eyes blood shot, lips dry. "Ah, see! You are just being nosy!"

He swats your arm, scowling. "Be quiet, no I'm not; but how am I meant to help you if I don't even know what happened?"

"I never said I wanted help, Leo. My mum not caring about me isn't something that can just be helped." And you didn't even realise those were the words you were going to say, because they sound so heartbreaking, so self-pitying, even though they're the truth. You've always just brushed your mothers behaviour off as normal, the only hand you've ever been dealt, but phrasing it in that way, claiming she doesn't care . . . something about that makes your heart break.

Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, fresh tears springing to the surface. You remember holidays, catching Emma wrapping up gifts of her own to give to you, just so you could wake up to something on Christmas morning. You remember making your own Halloween costume because your mother spent all her money on Emma's. You remember thinking it was okay, because it was all you ever knew.

You're older now, though. You can recognise mistreatment when you see it, but it's still a blow to the chest realising that you were on the other end of it, that you're a victim, whether you want to deny it or not.

Leo notices your sudden change of emotions and immediately lurches forward. His fingers are hot, almost scalding when they make contact with your arm, his brown eyes burning holes into your own. His eyebrows are furrowed when he says your name in a whisper, just your name, like nothing else needs to be said.

You close your eyes. "I'm fine."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's starting to grate on my skull, and I can't afford that kind of damage."

You let out a breath of a laugh, just because you think it's appropriate; in truth, you find none of this funny. You want to curl up and cry. You want to leave Camp Half-Blood and everything it stands for, start a life away from demigods and Greek gods alike.

What's stopping you?

Leo's hands heat up on your arm, forcing you to look at him again. He's closer now, head tilted, all amusement flushed from his features, which is a sad enough sight on it's own. It's been two seconds, but you already miss that sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Talk to me."

And you do. You don't know why, but you do. The words pour out like a broken faucet, a complete mess of incoherence's that Leo - and only Leo - would ever be able to understand. He nods along like the words are making sense, like these sentences aren't just complete gibberish.

When you finish explaining everything that happened down at the camp fire, you gasp, starved for air. Leo grabs your hand and tugs you forward, cupping your face in his attempts to calm you down; you didn't realise the tears had started pouring, didn't realise you're breathing heavily, totally lost, unable to catch a breath.

"Calm down," he mumbles. "Y/N, calm down. I'm here. I've got you, pal, I've got you."

You close your eyes, leaning into his palm. He traces his thumbs along your cheeks before slowly, slowly, slowly running his hand over your ear, tucking a strand of hair back. His eyes never leave your face, despite the state you know you are in, how awful you must look.

"I'm sorry," you choke out. "I didn't mean to. . . to get so worked up."

"Don't be stupid," he replies. "Did she really say all that to you?"

"She's not in her right mind out here. She thinks she's one of you guys, that she can be part of the group just because-"

"Because she slept with Ares?"

You laugh, exhausted. "Yes, exactly."

Leo rolls his eyes, finally letting his hands drop back to his sides. "Honestly, everyone and their grandfather has probably slept with Ares. She's nothing special, and she needs to get that through her head." He pauses. The air crackles. "But - uh - you're, you know, special. Very special."

You blink, certain you heard him wrong. The words don't really make sense in this context, so you're trying to disentangle them.

Finally, you crack and say, "What?"

Leo rubs the back of his neck, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. Over the hill, everything is silent as Half-Bloods sleep, unknowing to the panic attack that has just captured you, unknowing to the magic Leo has just cast to calm you down.

"I said you're special," he mumbles. "In a good way, I mean. Like, a really good way."

Your heart thunders. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." He looks at you then, chirping up. "But seriously, don't let her get to you. She's just a love sick psycho who doesn't know when to back down. Clingy ex-girlfriend and all that."

He changes the topic so swiftly it nearly gives you whiplash. You stare at him for another moment, and just when you're about to open your mouth to continue the previous, deserted conversation, Leo stands and reaches his hand out. "Shall we go before Hedge thinks there's some funny business going on?"

You nod dumbly, taking his hand only because you don't know what you want to say in response to what he has just said - he called you special, and he said it like it was just. . . normal, like it was something you could slip in without any further questions being asked.

You try and let the subject drop as Leo leads you back into camp. He walks you to the door of the Ares cabin, and it is there that he turns to you and says, voice low, "You can sleep in my cabin if your mum is in there; Chiron won't mind, and I won't either."

"No, it's okay," you reply. "Mum's staying in the Big House; I'll just slip in next to Emma." You glance at him, his eyes meeting yours because he never looked away. He looks so sweet beneath the lantern light, flames dancing across his skin like they were always meant to be there, like Leo has lived his life in fire and came out smiling every time. "Thank you, Leo; you really didn't have to help me tonight."

He scoffs. "Don't be daft. Next time you have any issues, I want you to run to me instead of the river naiads, you hear?"

You smile and nod. "I hear."

And so, Leo and you bid each other goodnight, and you watch as he walks across camp, past the Hephaestus cabin, right in the direction of Bunker 9. Half of you wants to go after him, question him on his use of the word special earlier on, but you don't. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, and so you turn on your heel and head into the Ares cabin, unable to stop the tiny smile that forms on your face.

----

Bunker 9 looks very nice in the morning.

"Oh, the tin is just glistening!"

Leo yelps, dropping a spanner on the ground as he whirls around. His overalls are covered in oil, along with his face, arms, legs, and every other body part that is presented to you on this fine Monday morning. In your hand is a plate of steaming cinnamon buns that Leo's eyes immediately fix upon, his startled expression quickly being replaced by one of pure hunger. You're almost certain you see his mouth salivating.

You tug the plate back, holding one arm out. "Not so fast, Fire Boy."

He frowns. "What did you just call me?"

"No cinnamon buns for you until you tell me how many hours of sleep you got last night."

Leo raises a brow, a tiny smirk making an appearance. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I want the details, Valdez, or these cinnamon buns are all mine."

"That's really unfair, and very unnecessary. A body like mine was made to work off two hours sleep."

Your eyes widen. "Two hours? Leo!"

"Can you just hand me my breakfast already?"

You groan, but a promise is a promise. You set the plate down on a nearby toolbox before pushing yourself onto the counter, legs swinging. Leo dives for the plate, nudging your knee with his hip as he grabs the first cinnamon bun he can see and stuffs it in his mouth, nearly swallowing the thing whole.

"Watch you don't choke."

"Why are you so protective this morning?"

"Two hours sleep, Leo? That's awful."

He shrugs, fingers hovering over the plate as he searches for his next victim. "I'm used to it. I'm not even tired! It was a really refreshing two hours."

"You get worse, you know."

Leo rolls his eyes, looking up at you. "And how many hours of sleep did you get, Sleeping Beauty?"

"More than two hours."

He clicks his fingers. "I want the details."

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I had six hours, if you must know. I'm refreshed and ready for my day!"

"So am I."

"Liar."

"And what?"

You laugh, and Leo smiles, making the noise louder than it really is.

"But no," he continues. "Don't you go worrying about me, dear. Ol' Leo Valdez can handle himself."

"Ol' Leo Valdez needs to take a nap."

"A nap? Sounds cowardly." He grabs the spanner from the floor, spins it in the air, catches it with an ease that makes your breath catch. "How about I show you the new updates I've made to Festus?"

Festus, Leo's pride and joy, the one thing in the world he will talk about for hours upon hours on end; you've sat there and listened to him every single time, absorbing every word, even if you don't understand it. He talks about circuits and updates and tools you have never heard of, but he says it all with such enthusiasm it's almost impossible not to get involved. And even though you know you should be stubborn, insisting on him getting into bed right this instant, you want to see him in that state again. You always want to see him in that state, eyes glittering with passion, hands moving all over the place, smile brighter than anything.

He doesn't need an answer. You simply smile at him, slightly exasperated, and he says, "Alright!" before spinning on his heel, the very beginning of his lecture.

You listen to him talk like how you would listen to lo-fi music. Your legs swing back and forth, back and forth, a tiny smile gracing your features. Leo shows you different parts, illuminating the inside of Festus's new helmet with fire ignited in his calloused palm. It makes his grin impossibly brighter. It makes his curls that little bit darker. It's him.

Finally, he spins and says, "Cool, right?" and even though you were mildly distracted the entire time, you nod and say, "Very cool. As always."

"What are you doing here so early, anyway?" He strolls over, casually plucking another cinnamon roll off the plate and taking a bite.

"I saw you heading to Bunker 9 last night and just assumed this was where you slept. I thought you said you didn't sleep in here?"

He shrugs. "I sleep in here when I'm stressed; gets me away from the ruckus of everyone else, you know."

You raise a brow. "You were stressed?"

"Of course I was stressed." He looks at you, exasperated. "Do you not remember anything we discussed last night?"

You blink; it's not that you had forgotten - there's no way you'll be forgetting that night any time soon - but you thought for sure Leo had. Yes, he'd been there to help you through it, and he was the reason you went to bed smiling, but you were still a mortal, and your problems surely could never be as big as his. You genuinely sat in front of him and cried about feeling neglected by your mother when his own mother is dead, and his Dad doesn't even talk to him, too busy producing other godly children. But here he is, head tilted and eyes slashed with worry. You almost want to look away, but the colour in them has become so noticeably entrancing these past few weeks that you find it nearly impossible to do so.

"I didn't mean to stress you out," is all you can manage. "I was just ranting."

"You were crying."

"I was - I mean - like - yeah, I guess, but you don't have to stress."

Leo narrows his eyes. "You really are dense, aren't you?"

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him for saying such a thing, but your words are swallowed by the loud clang clang clang of the door opening. Leo stares at you for a second longer before glancing over his shoulder, sharing your shock at the sight of Will popping his head in the door. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, movements slow and timid.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," he says. "But we kind of need Y/N up at camp."

Those words are terrifying. They jolt you and Leo into action almost immediately; you slip off the counter, stumbling over a few discarded wrenches and old toolboxes. Leo catches you before you can fall, but neither of you comment on your suddenly linked hands before following Will out the door, curiosity getting the better of you.

You hear the commotion before you see it.

The sound of your mothers shrill voice is all-too familiar, and it echoes now. Bouncing off trees, sinking into the dirt, giving you a blistering headache that immediately makes you want to turn around and pretend you never heard it. But there's a crowd, an ocean of demigods, all with weapons and angry expressions trained on the woman who raised you - the woman who tried raising you - and despite the anger you once felt towards her, you pick up your pace, rush into the scene and say, "Ay! Get that spear out of my face!"

The demigod - you don't even know who she is - stumbles back, gaping at you. You don't give her the time of day, instead pivoting on your heel towards your mother.

There she is, stood in the middle of the clearing with her arms above her head, screaming up at the sky. Blood coats her elbows and knees. Chiron and Emma are beside her, but it seems like both of them have given up trying to make her see sense; they simply stare, Emma with tears in her eyes, Chiron looking like he's on the verge of booting her out of camp right this instant.

Leo stumbles to your side and grabs your arm. "What's wrong with her?"

You touch your mum's arm. "Mum, you're being proper embarrassing right now."

She spins. Her hair is matted, the product of having not been washed in weeks. Her eyes are dark, lips chapped and bitten, utterly destroyed. You've seen her when she's having one of her episodes, but this is worse. This is the worst you've ever seen it. It breaks your heart, even though it shouldn't. It was only last night she was basically calling you worthless, a mistake, the reason her little affair with a Greek god didn't work out.

You swallow. "Mum. . . It's me."

"Emma?"

You bite your lip, trying to ignore how much that hurts. "Uh. . . not quite, but nearly. Emma's over there."

"Don't get me involved in this," Emma spits, roughly swiping a hand across her cheek. "I don't want anything to do with her."

Your heart judders. Your mother's eyes narrow, like she's taking a little longer to process her first childs words. You decide to step in before she has a chance to.

"No, Mum, I'm not Emma, I'm Y/N. I'm here to - uh - take you home."

As soon as you say it, you want to curl in on yourself. It's a truth you've been trying to avoid these past few weeks, the idea of finally breaking away from camp and heading back to your shitty apartment with your shitty mother to live a shitty life of online classes and pretending everything is normal and okay. Behind you, Leo mumbles, "Sorry, what was that?" which hurts your heart even more. "Yeah," you continue, taking another timid step towards her. A branch cracks beneath your foot, and your mother flinches, looks up into the sky like the sound of a god appearing will be nothing more than a simple crack.

"Yeah, Mum, we're gonna go home, and you're gonna get some rest, okay? You look exhausted."

"Exhausted," she mumbles. "Home."

"Home, yeah. Remember home? We liked it there. Things were normal there."

Mum's nostrils flare. "Normal-"

"But our house is also where Ares thinks we are right now!" you barrel on. "He's got our address in his little address book - he doesn't actually know we're at Camp Half-Blood right now."

Her shoulders deflate, eyes brightening. "Oh. You're right. He's probably visited so many times and we haven't even been there! He's going to be so angry!"

"So, so angry." You wrap your arm around her shoulder, gently drawing her away from the crowd of angry demigods, of sobbing sisters and confused centaurs. You meet Leo's eyes only once, and it's enough to shatter your being, enough for the burning of tears to erupt through your senses. You want to turn and run to him, tell him you're sorry, promise to never leave him, but the feelings are so extraordinary and so weird, unfamiliar, that you can't.

You turn your gaze to the floor and guide your mother through the crowd towards the Big House, uttering words about home and comfort, and going back to a life you want to abandon for good. You pretend it's all okay, because that's all you've ever known.

----

Leo finds you that same night.

You left your mother in Chiron's care. She fell asleep immediately, and you were free to do what you wanted after that, but the thought of parading through Camp Half-Blood after being in the centre of such a weird scene made your stomach curl, so you stayed by her side until you were positive most of the campers were in bed, sleeping.

Except Leo, of course.

He sits down in the grass, shoulder brushing yours. You don't look over; you know it's him just from the scent of oil, and the way he cracks his knuckles, and the way he awkwardly coughs into the darkness. These are all little things of him you have memorised. Each one makes your heart ache.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "You don't have to do all that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Stick up for her. Make her comfortable.

" You shrug. "I know I don't."

"So why do you do it?"

"Because she's my mum."

"She's barely your mum. She doesn't even do the bare minimum for you."

True. Painfully, awkwardly true.

You shrug again. Leo sighs, tilting his head back. When you glance over, you see him gazing up at the stars, jaw clenched in a way that throws off the soft features of his face you have grown so used to seeing. You don't like it.

You reach over and poke his cheek in an attempt to make him loosen up. He closes his eyes. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"Why you have to be the one taking care of her when she's never taken care of you."

You swallow thickly. "I'm not. . . I'm not taking care of her. I'm just-"

"Then what was that back there?"

"That was me trying to make sure my mum didn't get a spear shoved down her throat. It's basic human decency, Leo."

He purses his lips, like this is something he has never heard of.

You sigh, slumping back against a tree. "I don't hate my mum, you know; she's done some fucked up stuff to me, but I don't hate her."

Leo stares at you. His eyes are lazors, flames, beams pouring into the side of your head, and you want to look at him, but you think it would be a very bad idea right now.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like forever, which is a big deal when sitting with someone like Leo Valdez. The only noise filling in the silence is the steady drip of rain drops rolling down the leaves, bouncing against the lakes surface. A few ocean creatures peak their heads up, examine the scene, duck back beneath the water.

And then, "Are you actually leaving?"

You bite back a sob. "You didn't expect me to stay here forever, did you?"

Leo doesn't respond.

"She's not well here," you continue, tilting your head back. The moon waves at you. The stars smile. "She was bad at home, but being here - around this kind of thing - it's going to drive her insane."

"She's a grown woman."

"Ares messed her up." It's the first time you've said it out loud, the truth. Your mother was okay before she met that man. You've heard stories from your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, of the days when your mum was winning medals for her skills in ballet, the days she was getting awards for her academic success, the days where she played mediator in a house full of people who could never see eye-to-eye on anything. You listened to them with only half-interest, because you never fully believed them. You had lived with the crazy side of her for too long by that point.

But it's true. Ares waltzed into her life, promised her the world, gave her this child with skills beyond human comprehension, gave her a taste of real love for the first time in her life - and then he left.

"Why do gods think they can just get away with that?" you find yourself asking before you can stop. "Mess with people's lives like that. Why do they think that's okay?"

Leo sighs. "They run the world. They can do whatever they want."

"That seems really unfair."

"Yeah, well, it's also unfair that you have to give up your own happiness for your mum."

You close your eyes; there it is again, the topic breached. Leo doesn't understand that this is all you've ever known - caring for her, making sure she's okay, being ignored and neglected because you're not the gods child. He doesn't understand that this has been your life from day one. You were never given a chance to mind it. You were never given a chance to know anything else.

"You know, I think this place could really benefit with someone like you."

You look at him. "You're just saying that."

He shrugs, picking up a pebble and lobbing it at the lake. Always keeping his hands moving, never being still. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just a little desperate for you to stay." He looks at you. "Is that weird?"

You swallow, unable to respond, because you want to tell him no, no of course it's not weird, please keep talking and I'll stay, I'll stay here with you, I'll never leave, I never wanted to leave in the first place.

Leo looks down at his hands, fingers fiddling with the threads dangling from his overalls. "Sorry. I - I didn't mean to - like - put you on the spot or anything. I just care about you. A lot. And I hate seeing you upset. It bothers me."

The way it says it, words spoken through gritted teeth, makes your heart stutter. Oddly, it reminds you of those days spent laughing in Bunker 9, calling him stupid as he tried so hard to keep you amused, like he wanted to keep your attention as firm as possible so you wouldn't get up and leave. For once in your life, someone wants you to stay.

And it's sad - heartbreaking, even - that you have been cursed with these circumstances, that the mere notion of staying at Camp Half-Blood is so beyond reality; you're no demigod. Even if your mother were to head home on her own, do you a favour for once, the chances of Chiron being allowed to let you stay are incredibly, incredibly slim. You won't entertain the idea. You won't get your hopes up like that. You won't play to your own feelings, because that has never done anything for you, nothing but leave you in a state of despair.

And so, you keep quiet, staring out over the lake with Leo by your side, his hands working, his mind probably racing, your heart a steady thump in the distance.

---

The next day, you are ready to leave.

You packed all your things the night before. You said all your goodbyes the night before. You and Emma got into a brutal argument the night before, and now you're stood before her, trembling from head to toe as you patiently wait for Chiron to lead your mother to Thalia's pine tree so the both of you can finally be let go.

Emma stares at you. She's been doing that since last night, her hands balled into fists, jaw strong, so she looks a little bit like her father; you can say that now. You hate him. You think you'd punch him in the face if you ever saw him.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this for her."

"I never understood why you hate her so much - you're the one she actually cares about."

Emma grits her teeth, looking to the ground in that way she so often does when she's trying not to punch you square in the face. "That's not the point."

"You don't even deny it any more," you scoff. "You've just come to terms with the fact that she basically worships the ground you walk on. How about you start understanding how lucky you are rather than giving me grief for taking care of her?"

"Taking care of her?" Emma bursts. "She's your mother! She should be taking care of you!"

"Right, but that's not the way things have turned out, so we might as well cut the shit now before-"

"Leo spoke to me, you know." You freeze. Your mouth stays open, eyes widening; Leo is the absolute last thing you want to talk about right now, not after last night, not after hearing the hint of heartbreak in his voice when he realised it was too late, you were too far gone, there was no keeping you.

Emma nods, even though you haven't said anything, even though you can do nothing but stare at her in complete shock and bewilderment. "Yeah, Leo Valdez, the boy you're head over heels in love with."

You splutter. "What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! I've seen the way you are with each other. I've seen the way you look at him. I've seen the way he looks at you, and for fuck sake Y/N, you shouldn't have to give all that up for someone like her!"

"That person you're on about is our mother!"

"And what? That means you have to put your entire life on hold for her?" Emma drops her sword in a move close to desperation, startling you when she barrels forward and grabs your shoulders. She holds you at arms length, eyes like fire. "You're my only little sibling, Y/N; it's my job more than anything else to look after you, and I'm not going to sit back and let your selflessness ruin your whole life."

You blink, and only then do the tears make an appearance. You think of Leo, even though you hate it, even though you've already said your goodbyes to him and you should just leave it at that. He hugged you, and you hugged him, and you apologised and he told you there was nothing to be sorry for - it was the perfect potential ending, but you don't want it to be over.

Emma is right; you're jeopardising your own happiness for this woman.

Emma stares at you, the tears leaking from your eyes. Her own lower lip trembles, but she's Emma, so she won't start crying. Not properly.

You inhale shakily, ducking your head down. "I can't let her go home on her own, Em. She'll never make it. She'll never agree to go if she doesn't have someone with her."

"So I'll go."

You freeze. "What?"

Emma tilts her head forward, catching your eye. "I said, I'll go. I'll take her home, get her settled, and then I'll get someone to come take care of her - a professional. Someone who should have been there for her a long bloody time ago. You can stay here for a while."

Your heart thunders. You're certain you've heard her wrong, because this isn't right - none of this is right. Emma's the demigod. She should be the one staying here whilst you get shipped off back home with your mother. That's how things have always been, how things were always meant to be. But when you look back at your older sister now, there is no glimmer of amusement in her eyes; she's being serious, more serious than you've ever seen her before.

She squeezes your shoulders, curling her stubby nails into the fabric of your hoodie. "I mean it, Y/N. If you want to stay here-"

"I do," you croak out. "I really, really do."

"For Leo?"

You blink.

Emma grins. "For Leo." She pats your shoulder, nearly knocking you off your feet. "Go, before her and Chiron make an appearance. I think Valdez is-"

But you don't let her finish. You know where Leo is even without her input, and so you throw yourself into her arms, squeal a thank you in her ear before sprinting off down the hill towards Bunker 9.

The gods should be yelling at you right now, casting lightning and rain and every other deadly element down upon you, because this must be so far out of the rule book. This must be going entirely against everything they have ever set up, every rule they have laid out - a mortal in one of their demigod camps? A mortal hanging around their children like their even close to being equal. Complete blasphemy.

But you don't care. Not when you round the corner to see the door to Bunker 9 already wide open, little flashes of Leo Valdez skimming past the entryway.

You pause in the trees, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of what he is doing, and it is only then do you see the spanner smash against one of the windows. The glass doesn't shatter, but it shakes and it makes a loud noise, and it's followed closely by Leo yelling out a curse that would get him blown to smithereens if his father were to hear it.

You sprint towards the door. "Leo?"

He spins around, eyes widening. He grips his hand, blood seeping from one of his fingers, dribbling down his wrist and landing upon his boots. He doesn't seem to care, though, simply staring at you in shock.

And then, "Y/N?"

You throw yourself forward, grabbing his wrist. The blood from his gets caught beneath your fingers, but you don't care. You stare at it, shaking your head, whispering his name over and over, and all he can do is stare at you, dumbfounded, before he exclaims, "Hey, wait!" and stumbles back, yanking his hand from your grip in the process.

"Leo, let me have a look at that-"

"You shouldn't be here right now!"

"Okay, Leo, yes, we'll discuss that later, but please, let me look at your hand. What the hell did you even do?"

You reach for him, but he's like a wild animal, startled and afraid. He stumbles back, nearly tripping over a toolbox discarded on the floor. You notice the mess that wasn't there this morning, the tools laying everywhere, sheets of torn paper thrown left, right and centre, broken glass littering the hard floor.

"Jesus, Leo," you gasp. "What have you been doing in here?"

"Why are you back? Why aren't you away yet?"

You lift your gaze, narrowing your eyes. "If you want me to go, you can just say so." And right now, looking at the scene around you and the state of Leo's hand, and his startled expression, you don't even feel bad that he very well might just ask you to turn and leave. Your mind is preoccupied, wanting nothing more than to grab him and force him to shut up so you can pay some attention to the gaping wound on the tip of his finger. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He's staring at you, unable to move, small of his back pressed against the workbench. The blood welling in his fingertip looks to only be getting worse.

"Leo," you say softly. "Please, can we talk about this later?"

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't run away when you take a step towards him, either. His eyes never leave your own as you reach for his hand and pull him towards a chair in the corner, slowly pushing him into it. You softly ask him to reach into that magic toolbelt of his to pull out some medical supplies, and he does so with trembling hands, never saying a word, never really needing to.

You get to work in silence, trying to ignore the thumping of your own heart, the tremble of your own hands, the desperate need you have to just apologise over and over and over for scaring him so bad, for startling him to the point where he can't even form a full sentence, to the point where he was willing to run away from you.

You clean the wound and bandage it the best way you can, remembering all those times as a child when you would cut yourself by accident and your mum would be too dazed or too neglectful to take you to the hospital or do anything about it herself.

Leo watches your hands working wonders until it's all finally complete and you step back, admiring your handiwork with a pleased grin on your face. "Not too shabby."

Leo swallows. Finally you take the time to look at him, his pale face and startled eyes; he looks like he's on the verge of tears, which really isn't the reaction you were hoping to receive when you walked back into Bunker 9.

You fold your arms over your chest, nibbling your bottom lip as you say, "I'm staying."

Leo exhales shakily. "I don't get it. Last night you were so adamant-"

"I know. I know I was, but I never wanted to go in the first place."

"So why-"

"Emma made me realise some things." You push yourself onto the workbench behind you, the very same spot you always found yourself sitting when Leo is working away on one of his projects. You used to sit with your legs pulled beneath you, watching him work in silence.

He stares at you. "I fully prepared myself to never see you again."

You wince. "I'm sorry."

And then he's scrambling out of his chair, stumbling between your legs, grabbing your hands, tugging them into his chest, all in that order. You gasp at the touch, the rough fabric of his plaster rubbing against your wrist, the forever warm touch of his skin so familiar yet you crave it so badly.

He's shaking his head, mumbling "No," on repeat beneath his breath

. "Leo. . ."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," he says. "So don't apologise to me again, alright? I don't want it. I don't need it - all that matters now is that you're here, and you - you said you're staying." He looks up, almost timid. "Did I hear that right?"

You nod, dazed; he's not mad. He's happy. He's smiling, and his eyes are doing that thing again where they glint and they crease into crescents, and he looks so cute, so happy, so like the Leo you've come to know and love so deeply. It makes your heart stutter. It makes this entire thing so, so worth it.

He grins. "Oh gods, Y/N, you scared the shit out of me. I nearly tore this place to the ground-"

"I can see that," you croak.

He winces, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. "I didn't mean to - It was honestly an accident, but-"

"It's okay, Leo." His head snaps back round.

"It's okay?"

"It's all okay."

You reach forward, winding your arm around his neck, dragging him closer. His curls flood through your fingers, his eyes fluttering closed for a split second before he opens them again and says, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod, because of course he can. He does just that, pressing his lips to yours delicately, so, so delicately, like he's afraid you'll shatter. His hands are tender on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle, mindless circles into the fabric of your shirt, and it's all so slow, all so gentle, but your heart is exploding into constellations, sprinkling over your being in a way you have never experienced before.

For someone who is never still, never calm, never quiet, his kisses are like a warm summer afternoon spent wading along a beach. They are aquamarine waters and birds chirping around a morning sunrise. They are everything and nothing and more than enough but never enough all in the same breath.

He pulls away first, uncertain, glancing nervously into your eyes as he slowly releases you. He takes a steady step back, rubbing the back of his neck, and it takes everything in you not to pull him back in.

Instead you laugh, swinging your legs back and forth like a giddy child. "Don't look so sheepish or I'll think you've poisoned me."

"I'm not very good at that," he mumbles. "Machines don't usually need kissed, so I don't tend to do it that often."

"I'd hope not." You grab his hand, pulling him back between your knees. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier."

He opens his mouth, ready to protest your apologies once again, but you cut him off with five fingertips pressed to his lips. His eyes cross over as he glares at them, making you giggle. "I know you said I shouldn't apologise, but I shouldn't have been so. . . hasty. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. I should have let you speak-"

"I don't say very interesting things."

"You say the most interesting things." You drop your hand, intertwine your fingers with his. "But I'm staying, Leo. I promise." He exhales shakily, like this is what he has been waiting to hear for a while now; it breaks your heart, rejuvenates you at the same time, and you realise suddenly just how awful it would have been to pack up your stuff and head home, to live a life without Leo Valdez in it.

---

Your mother looks a little better. A little healthier. A little happier.

Emma sits beside her, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a denim jacket over the top. She looks happy, too, a little exhausted, but you never expected anything less. She's still smiling, though, and when her face appears in the Iris message, she lets out a happy sigh of relief.

"I thought you two would fuck it up."

"Go to hell, Emma," says Leo.

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat; it's been two weeks since Mum and Emma went back to the flat together, two weeks since you agreed to spend the rest of your summer at Camp Half-Blood, working on a relationship with Leo Valdez. It's been a grand two weeks, yes, but you still have responsibilities back in the real world.

"So, how's it going?" you ask. "Mum, you're still going to therapy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Mum mumbles, sounding more like an anguished teenager than anything else. "I've told you both already, I don't need it - I got over Ares years ago. I have my own family now - he can go to hell."

"Tartarus," Leo corrects.

"Whatever."

You grin. It's been so long - so long - since you've heard your mum mention you in the same context as Emma, including your name in the same sentence as the word family. Leo must notice your sudden shift in mood, as he chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. He does that sometimes, letting you know he's there, like you'd ever forget. You reach behind you and tangle your fingers with his, subtly placing your joined hands in your lap.

"A few more weeks," you tell her. "That's all you have to endure, and then they're putting you on that trial, aren't they?"

"Apparently," Mum replies. "I was thinking of coming to visit you."

You and Emma share a look - the last time your mother was at Camp Half-Blood, things didn't exactly go well. The energy of this place drove her insane, reminded her of days with Ares, reminded her she'd been abandoned by the one man she ever loved.

Leo cuts in. "Oh, no! I was hoping Y/N and I could come out there and visit you guys for the week!"

Your head whips round. "You were?"

"Well, yeah." Leo rolls his eyes, faux exasperation. "I did tell you about it. I haven't been back to your house since the giant threw that boulder through your window." He rubs his finger along your scarred, damaged knuckles, forever torn from the boulder that destroyed all your nerve endings. "I think it would be a grand old time, personally."

"I agree," Emma chimes in. "And it would be less stressful for us - we can just wait here for them to arrive, and you still get to see Y/N!"

Mum hums, thoughtful, and for just a second, you're certain she's going to revert back to her old ways. She's going to call you scum, pretend you don't exist, make you feel like shit all over again; judging by the sudden grip Leo has on your hand, he thinks the exact same thing. You thought this was over with. You thought your Mum had gotten better, that she finally realised you are her child, too, and-

"I guess it would be a lot less hassle."

Leo exhales. "Great! It's a date."

"For you two, maybe," Emma grumbles. "Look, we have to leave in two minutes, so this is goodbye."

"Jeez, Em, tell us how you really feel."

"See you in a few weeks, assholes!" And before you or Leo can respond, the Iris message is flickering to a close, leaving you and Leo alone in Bunker 9.

It's silent for a few seconds. Leo grips your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles, and it suddenly feels so, so hard not to cry.

"She's getting so much better," you choke out.

Leo's head snaps round, eyes widening at the crack in your voice. "Hey, no. Don't you start crying on me, okay? This is a good thing! Good!" He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. He has that goofy look, his eyebrows stitched together, his lips pursed; it makes you laugh every time.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists just to keep the feel of him against you for a little longer. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not a bitch."

"It's all good here, Y/N," he says. "I always told you it's all good here."

And with his hands on your face, his eyes gazing into your own, the sweet weather of Camp Half-Blood flourishing outside, you know he's telling the truth. It's all good.

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blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

at eleven night, find me ↠ hjs.

genre: sorta platonic au? ; fluff, just petting Jisung’s head as he falls asleep on your lap 🥺

⇥ warnings: none at all.

wc: 1.3 K 🤡 (sighs why am I like this)

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @sleepylixie (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: okay so fair warning, I wrote this in 2 hours at midnight whilst I was sleep deprived, so if it’s bad that’s why. :(( Hops you like it though, and I’m willing to redo it if you didn’t <33 🥺😔🥀 ⇥ dawn.☀️

The annoying rooster that popped out of your antique clock did it’s usual routine at 11 pm, though it was surprising of you to anticipate the loud shrill of the bell when it did so. You weren’t even sleepy, just on edge with wanting to meet your friend after a long time.

You’d admittedly missed Han Jisung, your best friend a lot. His presence every evening beside you, his cute pouty eyes and the way he’d fill his cheeks with food, making him look like the sweetest, cutest squirrel. He wouldn’t let anyone touch his cheeks, but he’d make an exception for you, especially because he’d secretly love it when you’d cup his cheeks and swoon over how adorably red he’d turn when he was shy.

There was no wrong happening that kept the both of you separated this week, just that you were busy with your thesis and he was busy with his music assignments; and overall the week had reduced you to a tired, grubby state. You so desperately wished to just let go, relax and have a fun time — and it was going to happen soon enough, you figured. Han Jisung had every which way of making you laugh, even if he did basically nothing.

How did you meet? It wasn’t a very special entrance, you just found that he sat alone at lunch, decided to approach him, talked to him for two days and viola, best friends. It sounded too good to be true on paper, but something about Jisung just… clicked. You shared mostly the same interests, and even if you didn’t, neither of you were unwilling to try new things. It was one hell of a wild experience to be with Jisung. Or Sungie, as you called him.

The lighting of your room was practically dim — owing to the “cozy” effect you were trying to create. Warm light splayed through the lamp placed on the wooden table — an antique one again, because you were a huge fanatic of antiques. The air smelled oddly of cinnamon and apple pie. Everything was just perfect — now you just needed one person to step through that door.

“Y/N!”

And almost like it was fate, a heavy weight threw itself on your back, scaring the shit out of your senses as you shrieked loudly.

“Agh!... Wha- Jisung!”

You slapped his arm, causing him to recoil in shock as he rubbed the area, a pout on his lips. “What?”

“Couldn’t you’ve rung the doorbell?”

“Couldn’t you’ve remembered to lock the door?” Jisung said, walking around the couch to plop down beside you. He’d changed his hair color, gone from a dirty ash blond to a jet black that complimented his skin tone more according to your preference. You’d had no time to keep up with yourself, let alone Jisung, so you figured you’d missed quite a lot of stuff.

His eyes still sparkled the same way, but his eyebags had gotten more prominent, and he seemed dull, like he’d missed out on days of sleep. Which you were sure he did. His hair fell over his eyes, however, masking how tired he truly was, but you could see through the mask very, very clearly. You also took a moment to admire how pretty he was, because admittedly, Han Jisung was drop dead gorgeous.

You succumbed to the temptation of running your fingers through his hair, strands soft on your skin as Jisung yawned at the action, the sound oh-so-pure and delicate. Tucking them behind his ears, you splayed a gentle smile on your lips as you watched Jisung take your hand in his.

“How was your week, love?” Jisung asked, leaning into the backrest of the couch as his eyes were close to fluttering shut, more because of the way you were running a thumb across the back of his hand.

“It was okay, I guess.” You shrugged, reaching for the glass of water that was on the center table, relief running through you when the cool water rushed through your throat. You didn’t even know you were dehydrated, figuring that you were most likely distracted from Jisung’s arrival. “You look sleepy.” You pointed out as a matter of fact, noticing the way Jisung’s eyes were barely peeking out over his heavy, drooping eyelids.

“Yeah, I had to stay over at the studio a bunch of times so I’m sleep deprived, you could say.” His voice was raspy as sleep threatened to consume him when you reached out, lacing your hand through his hair again. You weren’t quite sleepy yourself, because you tended to be more of the night owl. Jisung looked absolutely ethereal in this lighting, honey caramel skin almost glowing in the faint light, accentuating his features.

It was always a common habit for you to run your hands through his hair and vice versa. You never remembered who picked up the habit, or when you picked it up, but it soon became an addiction to have Jisung’s fingers massaging your scalp slightly. And it was the same for him.

“Hey,” You slid a hand underneath his head, his warm cheek resting against your palm as Jisung opened his eyes only lightly to look up at you. “You’re gonna end up with a sprain if you fall asleep here.”

“But I haven’t talked to you in so long…” He murmured, nuzzling into your touch as he yawned yet again, and your heart fluttered in your chest. In all honesty, you didn’t know if your feelings for Jisung diverged from platonic affection, or if it was just your mind, and honestly, you didn’t really care either.

All you knew was that Jisung was here, you were here, in this moment, together. That was all, and that was enough.

The boy was taken aback for two seconds when you silently pulled him down, letting him rest his head on your lap before he got an idea of what you were implying. Throwing his legs on the couch Jisung snuggled into a warm, comfortable position. One of your hands tangled into his tresses again, while the other one was intertwined with Jisung’s slender, shorter fingers.

“Mmh,” He hummed in content, placing a soft kiss onto your thigh which led you to shiver. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” You immediately replied, not an inch of hesitation in your voice.

“Tell me about your week then, love.” Jisung murmured, and you chuckled. Anyone could see how far drifted into sleep he already was, and honestly, a part of you loved how adorable he got when he was sleepy. Sleepy Jisung was more clingy, more whiny, and made your heart swell so much faster — it was almost unreal. He was just plain adorable.

You were tempted to ask him if he’d even stay up to hear the whole story, but nevertheless, you began reciting your hectic week, filled with all the fun memories, the stressful ones, the sad ones, all of them. At times you raised your voice, which jerked Jisung awake, but he’d just hum in content before falling back asleep, which would in turn only make you coo over how cute he was.

Jisung couldn’t help it either, your hands in his hair and your soft hand engulfing his own was admittedly too much for him to keep his eyes open. It was such a soothing feeling, at this place he felt his heart at peace. Relaxed. He could banish any negativity from his mind just by hearing your voice, now.

When you finished, Jisung was huddled into a ball, having fallen into deep slumber as you continued patting his head. The gentle smile that always found itself when Jisung was like this creeped back up to your lips, your eyes fluttering close as you simply took in the delicateness of the moment.

It was almost midnight now, and even though you and Jisung had barely talked, you felt as though you’d communicated for years, simply by hearing each other out. Your friendship wasn’t the kind that could be found anywhere — it had to be made, and a part of it was gifted. It was the best gift, really.

Because when the clock struck eleven night, you knew you could always find him, no matter what.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years

Text

“Stress Relief”

Summary: Ron and Hermione have some fun with each-other on Valentine’s Day.

Tagging: @princesserica84

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

Read on AO3

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

Warning: The following fic contains scenes of an s*xual nature and is not ace safe.

Hermione awoke gradually, in that way she always did on mornings when she didn’t have to work. Weak February sunlight was reaching into the room.

The bushy-haired witch sat up dimly in bed, rubbing her eyes.

Rose and Hugo were both over at the Burrow for a few days, on Ron’s suggestion. The kids had been excited to spend time with their grandparents, and Hermione had certainly not objected to spending several days alone with Ron, even if she did miss her kids.

Speaking of which… where was Ron?

Sliding her legs over the side of their large king-size bed (Ron had loved the pun), Hermione could distantly hear the sounds of plates being loaded up downstairs, and then the gradual creak of the carpet on the staircase.

‘Hey, sleepy head.’

Ron looked, as ever, utterly gorgeous. His red hair was tousled from sleep and… other things they’d gotten up to last night.

Hermione smiled, both at her husband and at the memory.

‘Morning, handsome,’ she said, as Ron walked into the room, carrying a tray laden down with breakfast food. ‘Not like you to leave me alone in bed.’

‘Wanted to get breakfast sorted,’ Ron said, his ears flushing a little at her flirtatious tone. ‘If I’d woken you up, we would have never gotten out of bed.’

‘True,’ Hermione giggled, propping their pillows up against the headboard. ‘But what’s the occasion?’

‘Fourteenth of February,’ Ron said, sitting down next to her. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot it was Valentine’s Day? After everything we got up to last night?’

Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘Forgive me, love,’ she purred. ‘I guess my brain got disengaged from getting so thoroughly ravished.’

Ron’s adams apple bobbed in his throat.

‘Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘I thought you’d be hungry for food, not for me.’

‘What can I say?’ she giggled, feeling his pyjama bottoms begin to swell. ‘I like to switch things up occasionally. How about you? Hungry for me?’

As if in response, the breakfast tray was banished to the floor nearby. Ron’s wandless magic tended to react to strong emotions.

Hermione squealed happily as Ron flipped her onto her back on the mattress, before pressing his lips to hers.

‘You know it, Mrs Granger-Weasley.’

The look in his eyes was so warm and caring that Hermione tangled her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him. With a knowing chuckle, she felt Ron throb against her.

Pulling away, Ron scrambled backwards, and grabbed the bottom of Hermione’s nightdress.

‘Now, let’s get this pesky thing out of the way…’

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as Ron pulled her nightdress up to her midriff, his hands sinking into the soft flush of her thighs. Ron seemed to have rather liked the changes her body had gone through after having two kids. He said she was… what was it… curvy for days?

Not that she was complaining. He certainly wasn’t. As he was making very clear with what he was currently doing. Mmmm…

‘Oh… god…’

Chuckling to himself, Ron fingers began to trace patterns along her skin, as his mouth began pressing kisses to her lower stomach. Hermione felt her chest begin to heave, the lacy pattern of her night attire clinging to the perspiration that was now covering her skin. Merlin, she loved the way Ron could send her into blissful oblivion with such expert handling. He really seemed to know her body so well. Which made sense, after almost a decade of marriage.

‘R-Ron…’ she gasped, her voice breathy. ‘Y-yes… ohhh….’

‘Hermione…’

With a husky growl, Ron pulled her knickers down her legs. She heard the sound of the material being dropped off the bed.

Hermione squealed again, as Ron’s tongue began to explore, sending delicate shivers up her spine as one of his hands drifted up her torso.

‘R-Ron… wait, let me…’

Sitting up slightly, Hermione hurriedly pulled her nightdress over her head, and threw it aside. Now completely naked, she fell back down on the mattress. Her eyes flipped over, to see Ron throwing his pyjama bottoms aside. He towered over her, his eyes glittering with passion.

‘Merlin, you drive me wild, Hermione…’

Her chest heaving, Hermione spread her legs.

‘Now, Ron… hurry!’

Ron surged forward, and Hermione gave a gasp as she felt herself be filled. Her legs curled around Ron’s back, as she pressed herself closer to him. Fuck. This was something that never got old, no matter how much time passed. He loved her, and she him. After almost ten years of being married, and over five years of dating before that, they really did know each other inside-and-out. Which made moments like this especially brilliant. Ron knew exactly which spots to hit, and she knew what got him going too.

Fuck, she loved him.

‘Oh… Ron… fuck…. god…’

‘Hermione…’ Ron moaned, one hand sinking into the flesh of her arse. ‘Yeah…. fuck….’

Their lips pressed together, as one of Hermione’s hands became entangled in his beautiful red hair, the other clawing into his back in an effort to get even closer to him physically.

Hermione felt the fire of passion burning through every molecule of her being. God, this was amazing! Fucking amazing!

‘Ron… y-yes… keep… keep going…’

‘Y-you almost there?’

‘Y-yes… almost…’

‘M-me too… oh, fuck… ‘Mione…’

Ron gave one last thrust, before he exploded inside. Hermione gave a deep moan as her own orgasm erupted through her, her legs clamping tightly around Ron as he continued to buck against her.

Slowly, their breathing eased, and Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘Damn…’ he breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘We’re getting better at this, aren’t we?’

‘Definitely,’ Hermione gasped, relaxing against him. ‘Must be not having to worry about the kids knocking on the door halfway through.’

Ron chuckled, easing himself out of her, and sitting up against the headboard. Picking up his wand from the bedside table, he summoned the breakfast tray from the floor. Hermione sat up next to him and took a plate that he passed along to her.

‘Well, I thought that was rather a nice way to wake up,’ Hermione said, snuggling into his side as she began to chew on her slice of toast. ‘Very good stress-reliever.’

‘Definitely,’ Ron said, putting an arm around her and not-so-subtly cupping one of her breasts.

‘You are a tease,’ she giggled, enjoying the feeling of his expert hand against her areola. ‘Anyone would think you were trying to keep me shagged out all day.’

‘Says the person who seduced me after I made them breakfast,’ he retorted. ‘Besides, we’ve got all day to ourselves. After we’re fed and watered, how about we enjoy some more stress relief?’

‘I’m not sure…’ Hermione said, slowly, as she chewed. ‘I mean… we did get rather sweaty…’

‘We have a magically-extended bath,’ Ron said, knowingly. ‘And we do have that sudsy stuff we got each-other for Christmas...’

Hermione giggled, as Ron warmed her coffee cup with his wand and handed it to her. Stress relief was definitely a good thing. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

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

Happy Valentines Day, everyone; thanks for reading! Hope you liked this little fic!

#harry potter fanfiction #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #tw: sex #not ace safe #lemon #tw: kink #saucy #warning- strong language #romione #ronmione #tw: food mention #tw: allusions to sex #tw: s*x #tw: sm*t #tw: smut

66 notes · View notes

furblrwurblr · 4 years

Text

Moppet!Douxie x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU | Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Fire/Explosion, lots of crying, self esteem issues, misunderstandings cause a lot of emotional turmoil

Note: This is my first fic! I know fics have it worse than art, but if you'd consider leaving tips in the comments, I'd be super grateful! Thanks for taking a look!

It was springtime in Camelot, near the turn of the season. The sun was high, the birds were singing, and you... were late. As a magic user, your life was in constant jeopardy regardless of your employment as the Crowmaster, Crowlord Corbin’s apprentice, penning and sending letters for the kingdom. And in this kingdom, tardiness was not appreciated. Racing through the castle halls with the king’s letters in hand, you noticed movement on your forearms.

“I wonder what color their eyes are. I bet they’re lovely.”

Your lips curled in a tender smile at the curling words that appeared on your skin. Similar musings crossed your soulmate’s mind daily, not leaving your body free of the enigmatic “ink” for years.

No one, not even the renowned Merlin Ambrosius, knew the precise nature of the words that would mark people’s skin, only that they were your soulmate’s thoughts about you. Soulmates were a fickle thing, their connections varying with different cultural beliefs and changing as countries developed. In England, the written words made finding your soulmate a tad difficult as one couldn’t know if their other half was paying any mind when they tried to share personal details. It was said that once you know them wholly, you’re complete in all things. Whatever that means.

You’d once been impatient to meet your own, to know what it means to be complete, but after years of black markings coming and going, covering your body in kind words of admiration, you deemed them worth the wait.

You were shocked from your reverie in a flutter of parchment. You’d bumped into someone, the king’s letters falling to the ground right into… was that slorr juice? You didn’t even apologize to the raven-haired young man whose spell material you’d just gotten all over the floor. You were far too panicked. Knowing your animal magic was of no help here, you scrambled to salvage what you could.

Hisirdoux was in trouble. Merlin would have his head when he told him he lost the slorr juice to another bout of soulmate pondering, and have it again when he discovered that said juice is the reason the king didn’t receive his news regarding the upcoming royal summit. Douxie leaned forward to help but instead opted to frantically search his brace for anything that could help the poor apprentice in front of him.

When he’d finally found the rune, the Crowmaster had just finished shaking off what liquid they could from the sensitive documents. He quickly dried them hoping to save the ink on them as best he could, long fingers flitting over each. In a hurried frenzy of apologies and farewells, the hallway was emptied.

Merlin was less than pleased, and frankly, a little concerned. Douxie usually gets so cautious after a mistake that even Merlin feels his stress, but this was the third time this week. Why was he so focused on his soulmate? After a right scolding, Douxie retired to his room to study. Merlin nearly did a double-take at what was written on his young apprentice’s neck.

“He was quite kind.”

So they’d met. Did his soulmate know? Did Douxie know?

Over the next few weeks, you two kept running into one another. A passing here, an acknowledgment there. After about a month you’d come to look forward to seeing the boy trip over himself en route to Merlin’s study. You helped him carry supplies when the Crowlord was away and talked when he dropped off Merlin’s letters to the court magicians across England. For some reason, you found yourself hanging on his every word and smiling whenever you caught a glimpse of his adorable manbun weaving through the streets.

He felt the same. It was never enough to speak to you in passing and he even left long conversations with you feeling wanting. He doesn’t quite remember how he started, but it’d become a habit to watch you work through the large western tower window. He’d admire your tenderness with the crows and was warmed by your bond with your hawk familiar.

As you left the tower to retire for the night, he always thought you might be cold, but never gathered the courage to walk you to your chambers.

Douxie was concerned. The day was halfway through, winter clouds covering the high sun, and you were nowhere to be seen. He’d watched you enter the western tower at dawn and the candlelight hadn’t been extinguished once. He was principally done with Merlin’s tasks for the day, perhaps he could pop his head in? “just for a minute,” he decided.

He exited his chambers (Merlin’s storage closet) and rapped a knuckle on his master’s desk, pulling his attention from some blueprints. Merlin didn’t speak, just gave an expectant look.

Douxie ran a near-trembling hand through his tied black hair before cautiously speaking up. “Master, may I have the rest of the day off?”

“Whatever brought this on? After the way you’ve been acting these past months?”

Douxie averted his gaze, suddenly finding his shoes far more interesting. “I’d… I’d like to see someone today.”

After a beat, the master wizard quickly scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to the boy.

“Finish these and I’ll consider your time served for the day,” Merlin sighed.

Douxie had been sure he would shut down. He quickly snatched the list and ran to the door, uttering a rushed ‘thank you master’ before it shut behind him. Merlin watched him leave, fondness in his eyes.

The sun was just dipping past the high kingdom walls, turning the town a vibrant orange. Douxie hung the herbs he’d just gathered, heaving a sigh of great relief when the last one was in place. He raced across the west side, eager to visit his… friend? Is that who you were to him? He banished the thought as he came upon the west tower, dark eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Citizens, a lot of them, stood in a line from the tower out down the hallway.

“What’s going on?” he asked a young woman.

“I’m here with my children, the Crowmaster is penning wishlists for Saint Nick. Just a shilling each!”

Douxie nodded and thanked her, then made his way to the tower. He gently pushed past the mob gathered in the doorway, stammering apologies. At last, he reached the Crowlord’s desk. The man himself was nowhere to be seen and you were alone, writing away at the whim of an excited child. He caught a glimpse of your face, you looked tired. Had you really been doing this all day?

Exhausted wasn’t a big enough word to describe how you felt. The only thing keeping you going was reading the various forms of concern written on your skin. By now, you knew you’d met them, but you couldn’t place who it could be. However, thinking was only making you more fatigued as your aching wrist swept across the parchment.

Douxie said nothing, just pulled out the Crowlord’s chair, and sat down. You looked at him, eyes wide, but the only explanation offered was a kind smile. He picked up a quill and called out for the next person to step forward. You turned back to the young girl asking for a sword, your smile wide and heart swelling.

By the time you two finished, the sun was half past the horizon. The last patron left the tower and you both heaved a sigh of relief.

“I can’t than-”

“Um, do you think-”

You looked at one another and laughed, waiting for the other to speak. Douxie hesitated, then took a deep breath.

“Uhm, do you think you’ve some time? I’d like to show you something,” he asked, lifting his eyes to your face.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling and holding out your elbow.

He beamed, quickly grabbing two pieces of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. You raised a brow but let him be as he threaded your arm through his and started walking.

The young wizard’s apprentice couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was far too nervous. Thankfully, you found the silence comfortable as he led you up a winding staircase at the corner of the castle. Once you both reached the top, he gestured to the sea. It was breathtaking. The salty breeze floated through your hair as you admired the sun’s glow over the water and the colors of twilight.

Douxie broke the quiet. “I thought you’d like this. Hmm, it isn’t enough light to write by though.” He waved his hand, sending blue wisps to swirl around you both. You watched them float about, eyes finally landing on Douxie who was making himself comfortable in a crenel, placing the supplies he’d brought with him on the merlon in front of him. You settled across from him, reaching for the quill.

His slender hand caught yours and laid in on the stone, gently massaging your wrist. “You’ll injure yourself at this rate. Let someone else write for you today.” His gaze caught yours, hazel eyes full of concern, and… something else you couldn’t place.

A gentle smile spread across your face as you reveled in the sun on your skin and the breeze on your lips. Douxie shuffled his papers around and spoke up again a moment later.

“So! What’s your wish?” Douxie asked, smiling wide.

“What?” you said, puzzled.

Douxie rose a brow, pointing out “All today, has anyone penned you a wishlist?”

“I suppose not,” you said, the smile settling back onto your face.

He beamed and set the quill to the parchment again. “Fantastic. Not that I think it’s fantastic no one’s offered, I’m just glad I get to- oh, I never even asked. I should have asked first, I’m so sorry-,” His shoulders tensed, but he stopped abruptly when he felt your hand on his.

“Hisirdoux, thank you. I’d love it if you did, there’s no need to worry.”

You started telling him things you wanted for Christmas and conversation flowed from there. Teasing banter and loud laughter filled the sky as it turned to night, blue magic floating around you both excitedly in time with your synchronized heartbeats as he finally walked you to your chambers, even offering you his hood. What could he do? He thought you looked cold.

It was just past noon on Christmas day. The ground sparkled a bright white and children’s laughter rang through the air. You took a deep breath of the crisp air and let it out in a contented sigh, taking a sip of the warm cider your master bought you before he left to celebrate with his family. He invited you to join them, but you opted to celebrate it yourself. You placed the cider on the table next to the window you were sitting in and picked up the small wood block you were fashioning into a present for Douxie. The small wooden cat-dragon only needed his hind leg to be freed from its timber prison. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts. As you worked, sentences curled up your arms and swirling letters kissed the base of your fingers. You paused your whittling with a frown. The only feeling behind this gift was love. You’d accepted you loved Douxie after that night bathed in twilight and lonely smiles, but you felt so incredibly twisted about it. You’d already met your soulmate and they thought about you often. Did your soulmate also worry they’d fallen in love with the wrong person? You shook your head, clearing your mind at the sound of wingbeats. Your hawk familiar landed on your raised knee and began to preen themself, looking at you smugly through pristine feathers.

“I can feel you overthinking things from across the castle,” they spoke, masking concern under teasing.

You scoffed, knowing they were right. “What am I meant to do? I can’t go on like this when I’ve got a soulmate out there. I can’t even try, it’s against the law! They know we’re bonded, what if they see me with him? I don’t want to hurt them like that. Not to mention, what if he’s not perfect for me? I want the soulbond to experience all of another person, but should I give that up for love?”

Your familiar shook their head and flew away, leaving you with your question hanging in the air. Watching them leave, you noticed someone walking towards the slorr’s stable. The manbun was too recognizable for there to be a shred of doubt: Douxie was being put to work on Christmas Day. You turned the wooden Archie in your hand and pushed off the windowsill. Just because you love him doesn’t mean you can’t stay friends.

Douxie was in flux. Archie saw the boy’s neutral expression turn sour as he read what he could of his soulmate’s thoughts. They loved someone else? Would they give him up for someone they’d already met? He couldn’t exactly criticize, he was in the same boat. Y/N was so important to him, but if he found his soulmate, could he quell the confusing little thing they had together for someone he barely knew? He decided he’d understand if his soulmate didn’t love him, he’d want them to do the same. He loved Y/N too much to let them go.

He looked up from his arm and startled. You were waiting for him, leaning against the slorr’s gate, your hawk familiar preening themself. While you laughed at his absentmindedness, he frantically rolled his ¾ sleeves down over the words that betrayed his true heart.

“Y-Y/N! W-what are you doing here? Aren’t you- um, aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” Douxie stammered out as his heart rate slowed.

You pushed off the gate and grabbed the pail he was holding in his hands that were still light with adrenaline. “I am! I opted not to celebrate with Master Corbin and his family, take the day for myself and see where it leads,” you said, a hopeful grin rising to your lips.

Douxie broke into a giddy smile, his heart afloat. They had all of Christmas to enjoy the town and they were here with him? He couldn’t believe his fortune. “Then I’m glad it led you here!” he exclaimed.

Archie curled himself around your leg, butting his dark head into your calf. “Are you here to enjoy the show?” he asked with a purr.

Your laugh was the only thing keeping Douxie from strangling his bespectacled familiar, so he settled for a pout you internally cooed at.

Both of you paused in front of the gate, reluctant to enter. He swung it open with a bow. “Ladies first.”

“Cheeky,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Archie and your familiar started playing with one another as you two prepared to take on the slorr together.

Hm. This was a mess. The slorr seemed to enjoy the happy atmosphere you’d both created so she was a tad more cooperative, but it took longer for her to calm down. You and Douxie were covered head to toe in the glowing blue liquid, trying to remove what you could into the pail Merlin gave him. Your shared laughter slowed to silence as you noticed him staring at you, eyes slowly roving over your face. Did he look… sad? No, that wasn’t it. Before you could scrutinize him further, you felt it. Gentle fingers caressing your cheek, going up, up… Your breath hitched as he laid his palm to your cheek, thumb slowly moving across your face. You let out a shaky breath and he jolted, noticing your wide eyes fixed on his and quickly withdrawing his hand.

He shook some juice from his hand and gesticulated wildly, stammering through an apology. “You- you had some juice on your cheek, I’m so sorry, Merlin’s tower, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for getting it for me,” you interrupted. You wanted to say more, but his sleeve had risen in his fervor, swirling lines reminding you he wasn’t yours to comfort. Hisirdoux was such an emotional and empathetic being, he wouldn’t leave his soulmate. Especially since his soulmate would have to be an absolute saint, it’s no less than he deserved. Taking a deep breath in, you looked back at him. “Don’t bite your lips, you’ll chap them. Was that your last task for the day?”

Douxie released his lip, fighting the urge to continue chewing it. “It was, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to use the rest of the afternoon,” he said, watching as his familiar and yours playfully wrestled for a mouse.

Your heart leaped, this was your chance! “How would you like to spend it together? There are tons of things to do in town and I’ve saved up my pay for a while so I’ve some wiggle room. Not to mention, I’ve made you something.”

The nervous cloud around you both dissolved as Douxie eagerly agreed and begged you to reveal what you had for him. You denied him with a laugh, smile widening with his every impatient groan. Your familiars ran ahead of you both, swirling in a frenzy of playful fighting and laughter as you walked out of the castle, arm-in-arm.

The town was a sight to behold. Holly curled around door frames, red berries nestled among twisted wreaths. Mistletoe hung from building corners, tracks disrupted the perfect layers of fresh snow, and children weaved and ducked through throngs of people gathered around street musicians. Snowballs were flying at the end of every street, laughter and song floating in the air with the excited chatter of families buying wares for their families, and lines of crushed berries stained the ground. It was an English tradition to wish to meet your soulmate sooner by spreading holly berries in a line on Christmas as a nod to the Chinese legends of the soulstring, a red string that connected soulmates there. Sure, it made a mess of your shoes but you always found it cute.

The first few minutes were unsure, both of you fishing for ideas on what to do first. Archie and your familiar were already deep in conversation, but you and Douxie were struggling. That is, until, the smell of sweet buns reached him. His stomach let out a mighty grumble, a testament to how he’d been working for longer than you and likely hadn’t eaten lunch yet. He covered his pale face with his free hand, too embarrassed to bear seeing you fight a rising smile. You slid your hand down his forearm and grasped his cold fingers, pulling him towards the source of the heavenly aroma. A fiery blush rose to his ears when he registered your fingers lacing with his while you waited in line. Reaching the front, Douxie’s protests fell on deaf ears as you swatted his hands away, insisting you’d pay. The baker gave a soft smile and handed you two of the high coveted baked goods, bidding you both a happy Christmas. Just two apprentices walking hand in hand, browsing stalls, eating together, and enjoying one another's company.

Douxie heard something on the wind and perked up. Lively music came from the town square and Douxie wasn’t about to miss the chance to dance with you. He pulled you from the daggers you were eyeing, making a note of which you lingered on before pulling you close and weaving through the other partygoers. Soon enough, you made it to the musicians, seeing the space before them where a group was dispersing as the song ended. The vocalist started up again, solo for a few lines until the band swelled. Douxie bounced on his heels, recognizing the tune as The Bear and the Maiden Fair. His excitement sent a wave of courage through him and he slipped his fingers from yours, instead grabbing you by the wrist to drag you to the open space. Others joined, forming a circle. Claps and stomps interrupted the smooth movement of the ring. Laughter mixed with the joyful notes of the flute. Hisirdoux couldn’t stop looking at your joined hands, sometimes lifting his gaze to your eyes closed in a laugh. When the vocalist reached the line “lifted her high into the air”, Douxie broke his hand away from the person opposite you, lifted you by the waist, and spun. Your clothes fluttered and for a moment, you were weightless. Douxie’s laughter rang in your ears, lingering just like the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours. His hands were warm and firm on your midsection, the heat replaced with a chill as he set you down. You absently continued the dance, happiness clouding the passage of time. Douxie kept your hand in his, allowing your arms to fall to your sides. You looked at each other, breathless smiles lingering on your faces as the song changed once more. You both walked on, catching your breath and coming down from the high.

A few hours later, you’d both had more interaction with each other than you’d had with anyone else all year. It was a welcome break from the same hallways, the same people, and the same routines. You’d bought each other dinner, talked about everything under the sun, and danced through seemingly all of Camelot, only separating for maybe an hour to buy gifts that may or may not have been for one another.

The day was coming to a close, the sun once again a deep vermillion, the snow reflecting it like gems. As you were heading back to the castle, you passed a holly berry stall. Douxie saw you looking at it, sobered by the reminder you were both promised to complete strangers. Just today, he’d fallen so much more in love with you than he thought possible, and if you wanted your soulmate, who was he to deny you? He tugged on your arm, wordlessly offering a pound to the vendor. The woman raised a brow at your intertwined fingers but offered the small basket of berries without a question. You looked at him quizzically when he drew his hand from yours, pouring a good amount into his hand and giving you the remainder. Enjoying the bittersweet silence, you two took turns placing the berries in a line. Archie swatted your familiar’s eager beak from the line of red that was stark against the slow-melting snow. Once you’d finished, Douxie sent you a sad smile and asked if you’d like to exchange gifts in his chambers. You agreed, once again arm-in-arm, streets quiet except for the soft crunching of snow beneath your heavy feet and the pound of heavy hearts.

Hisirdoux lit all his candles as the sun peeked just over the horizon. Archie made himself comfortable on his wizard’s pillow, curling around a tired hawk familiar. Your own wizard associate preened themselves while you and Doux sat on the bed, eventually opting to preen Archie when they were satisfied. Archie let out a yelp when she preened the edge of his ear, earning a look from you. Douxie pulled out a handful of items from his satchel with a flourish and showed you all the things he’d found one by one. Polish for Lancelot’s sword, a garlic braid for one of Galahad’s more ambitious brews, cooked salmon for Archie, and other things spread out in front of him.

He gave a nervous smile. “Close your eyes,” he breathed.

You smiled as your eyes slid shut. His slim, cold fingers touched your hand, causing goosebumps to rise on your arm as he pressed something small into your palm.

“And… open!” He slid his hands from yours and into his lap, an expectant look on his long face. Looking down, you gasped. There laid a ring that looked to be made of vines, weaving around each other and wrapping around the base of a tiny white flower.

“I found a curltrap in the forest on my last herb run and thought you might like it, so I made it into a ring. It won’t wilt. Um… do you? Like it, I mean,” he asked, brows pinching.

You slipped it on and looked at him in awe. Leaning forward, you softly put your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “Douxie, it’s beautiful. No one’s ever given me such a thoughtful gift, thank you for making it.” He laid his hands on your back and laid his face in the crook of your neck to return the gesture, hand trailing after when you pulled away.

“Your turn!” You reached into your bag and paused. “Close your eyes.”

Douxie pouted but held his hand out after doing as he was told. He felt something hard and contoured, slowly curling his long fingers around it. He opened his eyes and stared at it in awe. It was wood whittled in Archie’s likeness, complete with small green gems for eyes and tiny glasses frames made of wire. His wings were unfurled, his posture inquisitive. Archie looked at it, speechless.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I played it safe. When I told the carpenter it was for you he offered to inlay the gems for free. You’re more appreciated than you think!” you exclaimed with a smile. He whispered a “thank you” as he turned it over in his hands, admiring the details. In all honesty, he’d already committed every dip and groove to memory, he was just replaying your words in his mind. “You’re more appreciated than you think!” He never thought about the impact he had on others, he was too busy being concerned with Merlin’s opinion of him. That’d be something he’d have to work on if it made you smile like that.

The rest of the evening flew by, laughter and the sound of a lute seeping through Douxie’s chamber door and into Merlin’s study. By now you’d fallen asleep on his bed having drifted off while Douxie softly sang a folk lullaby you’d requested. He lifted the blanket over you and laid down, the blanket layered between you two. He stared at you while you slept, soaking you in. The shadows your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. Your chest rising and falling in tandem with his. The black lines swirling to your collarbone- wait. Douxie watched as a thought appeared on your skin, hidden under your shirt. Archie moved in circles at the foot of the bed and stopped abruptly feeling Douxie’s sudden fear. He was so tempted to look but he couldn’t risk you hating him… it’s just to see what they think of you. To see if they deserve you. Yeah, that was a viable excuse. Archie hissed quietly at his friend, watching Douxie’s trembling fingers gingerly expose the skin towards your shoulder. He looked at the two words, puzzled. “They’re breathtaking.” Did they see you in the square? Had it been when you’d separated? Douxie was torn from his own thoughts when you made a noise, your brow furrowing for a moment and relaxing. His hand still had your collarbone exposed, and he watched in equal parts elation and horror as his own thought scrawled itself onto your skin.

“I don’t know if I can let you go.”

His blood ran cold, breath hitching and mind flailing.

You were his. You were fated to be his. But you loved someone else.

Spring had returned to Camelot, plants thriving in the sun’s warmth. The flowers were happy, fluttering in the sea breeze. You furrowed your brow when your heart clenched at the thought of such beautiful blossoms mocking you. A shadow passed over your face as you looked to the flower that still curled itself around your finger. It’d been three months since the best Christmas you’d ever had, but the memory was now stained. Douxie and you still talked, but for some reason, he made excuses to avoid you and felt distant when you were able to cajole him into a short walk. At first, it seemed like he was busy with the amulet, but then he was absent even when Merlin said he was stuck and didn’t require his apprentice’s help. You were disappointed and confused, feeling hurt every time he blew you off with some excuse of running errands for Merlin.

Hisirdoux wasn’t feeling any better. He missed you greatly and seeing what you thought of his excuses only deepened his guilt. But wasn’t this what you wanted? Why would you be so disappointed he wouldn’t spend as much time with you if you loved someone else? He chalked it up to the soulmate bond, ignoring Archie’s concern and attempts at advice. His eyes were sunken in and puffy, due in part to crying himself to sleep watching your pain at his sudden distance write itself on his skin. He’d go to bed with swirling lines of magical ink torturing his dreams and awake a blank slate, ready for it to start all over again.

Archie couldn’t take this. For the past week, he’d been pushing his magic through their psychic bond, pouring parts of a sleep spell into his charge, but that would only work for so long. Douxie was destroying himself from the inside out, all because he couldn’t be selfish for once and speak up. The shifter waited for Douxie to leave for the day, telling him he’d find him at noon. Archie stayed in front of the door until the young man’s voice faded. He sighed, whispering an apology. Douxie wouldn’t want anyone to know, but the boy needed an intervention.

“Merlin? We need to talk.”

Merlin had noticed Douxie’s exhaustion and had purposefully lightened his load, but the boy kept working regardless. Merlin thought less work could allow him to spend more time with the Crowmaster (who at this point couldn’t be anyone BUT Douxie’s soulmate considering how quickly they bonded and how much time they spent together), but he’d come back to his study to see the books sorted a different way every week, the suits of armor impossibly polished, and the herb rack overflowing with all kinds of magical flora. As Archie relayed the events of the past few months, Merlin felt his chest constrict tighter and tighter. His heart bled for the boy, growing angry at just how oblivious you both were. And then, an idea. Not one of his best or subtlest, but it’d get the job done fast and serve as a bit of punishment for confusing his apprentice’s heart.

It was that time of year again. The yearly royal summit had you and the Crowlord running circles around one another, both of you rapidly penning and sending letters and the occasional need to coerce the grumpiest crow, Corvus, to carry just one more letter for the day. Between your familiar’s regular several-day flights to Spain, your scurrying around the castle, and the magic you were giving the crows for some extra juice, you were exhausted. Your eyes were sunken, you weren’t sleeping properly, and you missed Douxie. You didn’t know why, but his absence made your heart hurt. Every time you collected letters from Merlin, your throat closed at seeing his apprentice’s chamber door. Catching a glimpse of him through doorways and windows made your mouth dry. Both Master Corbin and Galahad had noticed your change in attitude, asking you to rest and why Douxie wasn’t with you, confused why you were no longer attached by the hip. You were tired. Everything fell by the wayside as you rushed from official to official. The king himself was concerned for you. Well, as concerned as he was willing to be towards a mage.

Finally, there was a lull. You were able to rest for a while but didn’t dare leave the tower, knowing something would pop up eventually. Sitting down for what felt like the first time in weeks, you let everything go. The “mother hen” of the tower crows, Corinth, coaxed it out of you bit by bit until the dam burst. She preened your scalp while you cried, hot tears rolling down your twisted features. The feeling was comforting, helping to ease your upset. Finally, you were able to speak.

“...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?” you whimpered, drawing your knees to your chest.

“Perhaps he’s blind,” she said sagely.

“He can see perfectly well,” you whispered with an insincere chuckle, still not trusting your ability to speak without breaking down again.

Her eyes glinted in the noontime sun. “Stupid, then.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling and forcing tears that were left on your lashes to fall. “Douxie may well be stupid, but he isn’t simple. It’s one of his many charms.” A soft smile lingered on your face, heart lighter than before. “Thank you Corinth, you listen well.”

She shook out her plumage and settled on your knees, cuddling into your bosom. You stroked her gently, the silence pushing in on your curled form.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Poor Hisirdoux was in flux again. He sat on his bed turning the wooden Archie over in his hands. Merlin had left not too long ago and given him the day. Douxie’s hands felt light without a task. Come to think of it, his head felt light too. He couldn’t sleep yet, but he desperately needed a pick-me-up. A sigh escaped him when he realized his basin was nearly empty. He’d wanted something to do so he might as well refill it. Upon picking up the basin he dropped it immediately, water splashing violently across the floor along with the clatter of wood on stone. Archie yowled, shifting into his dragon form. The boy’s eyes were wide in horror as he recalled his reflection in the water. You see, in England, not only are the words of a soulmate tie important, but their placing on the skin holds equal meaning. Douxie had only ever gotten them on his limbs and the base of his skull when he was younger, but ever since he met Y/N, they began showing on his torso and the left side of his chest. But this… this couldn’t mean anything good. Scrawled black lines, no longer smooth and flourished, curled around his throat. They began from seemingly nowhere and writhed downwards in a creeping spiral, the end reaching for his heart.

“Arch!” he cried. “What’s happening? Why are they like this? What do they say? Arch, Arch, please I need to know what’s wrong!” Tears welled in his hazel eyes as he dragged his hands down his throat, futilely trying to smudge the twisted lines.

Archie felt his fear so strongly his back arched on its own accord, but he found his way to Douxie quickly. He scampered to the boy just as he fell to his knees, his mind nothing but questions. Archie shifted, paws pulling Douxie’s frantic hands into his lap as he curled his wings around the boy’s shoulders. He sniffed and shuddered to a halt, shaky breaths drawing in and out as he lifted his head for Archie to read the swirling text.

Archie’s reaction to your thoughts was well hidden. He knew you two loved each other, but this hurt him just as much as it did Douxie. “...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?” The next bit made him breathe a laugh, but he realized that while it wouldn’t be easy to tell Douxie just how much you were both hurt by each other’s assumptions, it was just the proof he needed. Archie tugged the reluctant apprentice out into Merlin’s study.

Hisirdoux approached the mirror, looking back at Archie before he confronted the letters snaking down his collarbone. He twisted this way and that, heart falling to pieces over and over with every word.

He shifted his hood back into place, fluffing the collar to cast the letters in shadow. One look at Archie’s concerned face was all it took. He sank against the wall, gathering Archie into his arms and burying his face into his familiar’s side. Glistening tears wet Archie’s fur as the cat dragon purred loudly to offer comfort.

Hisirdoux’s breathing evened out. “Arch, what have I done? What can I do?” he whispered, clutching the familiar ever closer.

Archie placed a large paw on the boy’s chest, near his heart. “You can go after them. Tell them what you know.”

Douxie nodded after a beat and gathered himself, quickly walking out of Merlin’s tower and towards the western wing of the castle.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The king and his court mages piled into a carriage in preparation for the trip to the port where they’d depart to Spain for the royal summit. Merlin and Morgana sat next to each other and shared a look when the carriage lurched forward. Of course Merlin enlisted Morgana’s help, she’s a trusted source of chaos. He felt for the Crowlord’s aura in the tower and nodded to her once he confirmed Corbin was away. While Arthur was distracted, they sent their magic out. Tendrils of light bobbed, weaved, and merged to form two fluorescent lime balls. They floated around as if to get their bearings, then flew at the west tower. Nestled just below the ridge leading from the doorway was a sack of Dworkstone, its contents belonging to various trolls imprisoned in the castle dungeons. One ball started to vibrate just before it pushed to the center of the sack, starting the movement needed for a mother of an explosion The other flattened into a shield, curling itself around the sack. And they waited.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

You were still curled on the floor, Corinth in your lap when the crows began to beat their wings against their cages. Corinth was panicked but managed to push what coherent thought she could into your mind.

“The door… danger... hurry…” She struggled, taking off out the window in a flutter of black.

You felt the disturbance, dread rising in the pit of your stomach. Scrambling to your feet, you barely managed to stand before a loud boom shook the tower. The shield swelled, Trollfire stretching the ward into the room. Your frantic hands undid locks and bonds as quickly as they could, ushering the crows to safety through the large window. The ward began to thin, crackles of green sparks coming undone as the fire fought against Merlin’s magic. You barely managed to throw the last crow out the window before the ward burst into a violent, moving wall of green flames.

You were pushed into the far wall, falling and splitting your brow on the cobblestone. All you could hear was ringing as your vision went white, slowly fading back to normal. You were trapped under the desk and a few chairs, too weak to lift them off. The screech of a hawk sounded far off as your hearing faded in and out. Fire blazed all around you, easily spreading along the hay bedding in the open cages. You coughed, smoke already in the air. Wait. It shouldn’t be this low yet, it’s only been a few moments since the explosion. You quickly sobered into a panic when you realized the wood piled on top of you was burning. Great. Now you were scared and disoriented. A perfect mix for getting out of sticky situations. The only thing to do now was wait.

Douxie could swear he felt his soul leave his body. He was on his way to tell you-- well, everything. You were his everything. He felt it before he heard it. The tingle of troll and human magic filled the air before a loud explosion shook the western tower. The western tower? Fuzzbuckets, you were on duty today! Crows flew from the open window, a whole murder blackening the sky for a few moments. They’d dispersed by the time he made it to the tower entrance. There was a small crowd a few paces back, Lancelot and another knight inspecting the swelling ward full of fire. Douxie pushed through the crowd just in time to see Lancelot raising his sword.

“No! Everyone run!” he screamed.

Lance was already going full swing when he heard it, looking back at Douxie in fear. Douxie grabbed the knight and made the best ward he could on short notice before the shield burst. They were all blasted backward, a few serfs’ tunics setting on fire. His dark hair was thoroughly windswept, his entire body frozen in shock on the ground. Lancelot might have been screaming, but Douxie couldn’t hear it. Blood dripped down his pale face, but Douxie couldn’t feel it. He could have been floating, his head was so light. Sure, his ears rang, his hands trembled, his chest heaved, but all he could feel was you. Your confusion, your panic. You were definitely inside. Douxie struggled to his feet and stumbled forward into the tower, ignoring Galahad’s voice yelling for him to stop.

If he wasn’t suffocating before, he sure was now. Douxie brought his hood to his mouth to filter some of the air and began searching for you. It wasn’t a very big room, but between the fire, smoke, and items strewn throughout, it was proving more difficult than he’d hoped.

You let out a groan, the table pushing splinters into your leg.

He whipped his head towards the source of the sound, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. “Y/N?! Y/N, where are you?” he cried.

Weakly, you spoke through a great cough. “...Douxie? Is that you?”

He hurried to the large pile of wood and began tearing it apart. “It’s me, it’s me, love. Please be alright, please, please, please, you can’t die. You’re not going to die, love.”

Hisirdoux heaved the table off you just as you slumped to the floor. He lifted you by the arms with a mighty roar, dragging you towards the open doorway. Galahad and the knight from earlier ran to catch you both as Douxie slipped into unconsciousness.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Two days. You hadn’t stirred for two days. The sun shone softly through the long linen curtains. Your familiar was perched on the headboard, asleep. Douxie was sat up by your bedside, bandaged hands gingerly holding one of yours while Archie slept on your legs. The boy had gotten burned pulling the debris off of you. He hadn’t left your side, save when the castle nurses forced him to eat, bathe, and sleep. They knew him well, uncoordinated as he was, and it broke their hearts to see him look so tired although the past couple of days were the most rested he’d ever been. He was scared. Everything had gone downhill when he found out you were soulmates and he blamed himself.

“None of this would have happened if I’d just told you. You could have been away from the tower, safe with me. I was too afraid of losing you. All I knew was you loved someone else and I couldn’t let you guilt yourself into abandoning ‘him’ because we’re bonded. I was on my way to tell you, you know. I saw what you were thinking to Corinth and Archie convinced me to go after you. I-” his voice cracked, fresh tears coming to his eyes. “I love you, Y/N. I have long before I knew about the bond. I hurt you. I hurt us both. If only I wasn’t such a coward…” He was weeping now, head hung low and shoulders shaking. “I love you so much, and I still let this happen,” he stammered between quiet sobs. He brought your hand to his forehead, cradling it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you were.

He jumped when your hand slowly withdrew from his. His head snapped up, and there you were. Sun shining behind you like a halo, your eyes glinting in a tearful smile. You wiped the tears from his cheek, just like he’d done to you with the unruly slorr all those months ago, and let out a yelp of surprise. Douxie had thrown his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

“Doux! Your hair tickles,” you croaked, bringing your arms around him. He was crying again, just a little. His chest felt light. You were here. You were okay. Archie had woken when you jumped and was padding up to your face, pushing himself against your cheek. You sat up slowly when Douxie released you and patted the space next to you on the cot. He settled and looked up at you, eyes still sad.

“So, uh. How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” You cupped his face. “Douxie. I didn’t fall in love with a coward. I fell in love with the bravest, most selfless wizard in Camelot. Not to mention his adorable manbun. I love you too, Hisirdoux Casperan. Soul bond or not, I want to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

He brought his hand to yours, feeling the tiny curl trap blossom on the ring he made you. Gently, he took their hand in his, admiring the accessory. “Even after all I did, you kept it on.”

“And I don’t plan on ever taking it off,” you smiled.

He slowly removed the ring, taking hold of your left hand. His eyes were hopeful and a little scared when he looked up at you, fingers pausing. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Promise?”

“With my whole heart, love.”

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss as he slipped the promise ring onto your finger.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Lance had lost his arm in the explosion but was rather excited about his new prosthetic. You two had healed as well, soon going back to work. Every time you passed one another, fingers brushed, kisses were stolen, and smiles were shared. The entire castle ended up hearing about how you two became so close, and soon enough, you were somewhat of a folk tale amongst the townsfolk. Now, every Christmas, soulmates exchange handmade gifts while sharing sweetbuns, now deemed a good omen for true love.

Even now, 900 years later, you’d hide your smiles as Arcadian couples surprised one another with things they’d made while ordering an eclair at Benoit’s. It’d been so long, but it seems some things stay the same, you and Hisirdoux included. Sure, you’d both grown in character, but around you, he was still the same lovesick fool he had been all those years ago. You still had your ring, which he’d embellished a bit on your wedding day. Douxie still thought about you as much as he did then. Today, while you were at your job at HexTech, you smiled adoringly at the words on your wrist.

“Your eyes are such a lovely color. Oh, how far we’ve come from clumsy accidents and runny ink. I love you, darling. More than you can ever know.”

#douxie #douxie x reader #soulmate au #x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa wizards #tales of arcadia wizards #wizards douxie #wizards archie #toa merlin #toa #idfk what tags to use man #furbleart #it counts #furblewrites #yayyy writing tag for all the ideas ive got but will probably never be done

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