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theetherealbloom · 5 months

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WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 1 | 14th Doctor

Chapter One: After All Of The Time, And Give An Actual Try

Summary: An enigmatic old face makes a reappearance, heralding unforeseen events. A mysterious spaceship plummets to Earth, bringing chaos and prompting the Doctor's intervention. Amidst the unfolding narrative, a cute and endearing creature seeks assistance, weaving together elements of mystery, adventure, and companionship.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance

Word Count: 12.2k

A/N: Surprise! I love Doctor Who too. I’m a huge nerd, I know tehe. I hope you enjoy this mini-series I have planned for the 14th Doctor! As we know, he is played by the beloved David Tennant who is one of my favorite Doctors ever.

Song: Where do we go now? By Gracie Abrams

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MILLSON WAGNER STEELWORKS, NORTH LONDON – EVENING, DECEMBER 2023

A UNIT team was promptly dispatched as the spaceship breached Earth's atmosphere, making its way North of London. Both serving as scientific advisors, you and Shirley were on-site where the ship had landed.

While some military personnel were busy extinguishing the flames from the spacecraft and securing the perimeter, preventing you from delving further into the investigation, you found yourself engrossed in studying the ship's scans displayed on the monitor in your hands, attempting to unravel the mystery.

"Miss them, do you?" A voice called out from behind.

You averted your gaze from the tablet, turning to find Shirley maneuvering her wheelchair next to you. Curious, you asked, "What? Who?"

The redhead sported a cheeky smile. "The Doctor, of course."

It was widely known that you had journeyed alongside the Doctor and his myriad companions. Images of their faces flashed in your mind as you reminisced about those exciting adventures. Rose, Donna, the Ponds, Clara... you longed for them. There was a noticeable absence of the Doctor that left a gaping black hole in your chest.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself, "Can't let the Doctor catch a glimpse of me again; the entire universe might just fold in on itself once more. Already me being here is a problem since there’s a possibility he could pop out at any moment. I’m only on duty since I owe Kate a favor."

Shirley hums and responds, "I've read the files, you know. You two were quite the team. Everything that had happened… was in the wrong place at the right time. Still, it could happen, the two of you… together."

You raise your eyebrows at her and offer a small smile while shaking your head, scoffing, "The Doctor was unaware before, and I won't be the catalyst for another cosmic meltdown due to my selfish reasons. Besides... the Doctor doesn’t know I’m still alive and UNIT is already on my arse for even existing on this timeline.”

The redhead emits a sympathetic murmur and pats the side of your thigh, "Wasn't your fault, love. A colossal tear in time and space that dragged you in here... sounds like fate, or destiny even. If anything, maybe it was supposed to happen... like you and—"

The tablet beeps, abruptly halting Shirley's train of thought. You glance at the monitor, furrowing your brow, then hand over the device to her, saying, "You need to see this. I believe there's more to this than we initially thought."

“Now I think we’re making a fundamental mistake. ‘Cause maybe that spaceship was a collision course to start with, but look.” Shirley says while the UNIT soldier looks at the tablet, “At the last minute, it pulls up, then settles. What I’m sayin’ is, that ship didn’t crash. It parked.”

As Shirley presents her observations to the UNIT soldier, you can't help but notice the intensity in her gaze, the lines of concentration etched across her forehead. The soldier queries, "No signs of life?" You step forward, interjecting, "Not yet. But we don't know what kind of life we're looking for."

Suddenly, an unexplained shiver races up your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin. A palpable sense of familiarity and the eerie feeling of being observed by someone you know too well. Your expression shifts into a frown, and Shirley catches on, concern knitting her brows. "What? What's wrong?" she asks.

You open your mouth but hesitate, exchanging glances with Shirley and the UNIT soldier. Shirley, sensing the urgency, instructs the soldier to step aside. Both of you retreat to a secluded corner, where she probes, "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost, dear."

You exhale shakily, "I... I think he's here. He's back."

Shirley blinks, seeking clarification, "You mean..."

"The Doctor. The Doctor, he’s here."

"Shirley, I need to leave, immediately," you declare, attempting to stride away with urgency.

"Wait, hang on a second," Shirley interjects, gripping your wrist and compelling you to halt. "He's already seen you, yeah? Looks like nothing bad has happened and—"

"Nothing bad has happened yet, Shirley. The stars could go out; millions of galactic species could die if we so much as breathe in each other's direction. I can't risk it. I won't."

Tears well up, and Shirley guides you to a stop near one of the staircases, settling herself in her wheelchair. As you take a seat, you rub both hands over your face, wiping away the tears. "I should have died that day."

Shirley remains silent, allowing you to continue as you shakily sob, "I should have died. But I didn't, and I'm still here."

"I lied to him, Shirley. I lied. He... he might never forgive me for it," you confess brokenly. Shirley shrugs, offering, "You won't know unless you talk. And it seems to me that whatever was keepin’ you apart before… is tellin’ you two maybe now is the right place at the right time."

Deep in contemplation of your choices, someone suddenly seizes your wrist, muffling your voice as they pull you close, your body pressed against a comforting warmth.

"Hey, it's me. It's the Doctor," he reassures, and you instinctively push away, allowing some distance between you two. Both of you stand there panting, but he breaks the silence first, shouting, "I thought you were dead!"

Throwing the words back at him, you retort, "I was supposed to be dead!"

"Why aren't you dead?" he demands, and frustration laces your high-pitched response, "Are you bloody serious in asking me that?”

“No. Yes! Argh, I don't know!"

Shaking your head and taking a step back, you declare, "I need to leave."

The Doctor firmly grabs your wrist, halting your escape. "No. Not again."

With determination, you wrench your wrist from his strong hold, shouting, "The universe could collapse! Again! We weren't ever supposed to meet. It was a mistake."

Wide-eyed, the Doctor gazes at you and replies in a breathy tone, "Is that really what you think?"

Paused, unable to respond, you hear his voice in your head, a telepathic whisper so familiar. "You and I both know, that it wasn't a mistake."

Glaring at him, you muster as much resistance as possible, but those big dark brown eyes make it challenging. "That's not fair. Get out of my head," you retort with furrowed brows.

The Doctor whispers your name, barely audible, causing you to flinch and look away. Instead of acknowledging his presence, you pivot to a question, "You regenerated… But why this face? Why are you back?"

"Why do you ask? You don't like this one?" he retorts.

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes, "With you, there's always a reason for everything."

The Doctor admits, "Must be why the TARDIS brought me to you and Donna."

You regard him with a concerned gaze and tone, "What? You saw Donna, did she recognize or remember you?"

"The fail-safe worked; she just commented about my clothes. She has a daughter named Rose," the Doctor hums, kicking a small piece of gravel on the floor. You nod, "Yeah, I keep tabs on 'em. Making sure they're alright. Even though Donna gave all that money away to charity."

"Do you know why she did it?" The Doctor asks.

"I don't. But I have a couple of guesses," you reply with a close-lipped smile and a shrug. The Doctor brings his gaze to you, and you can already feel the question before he says it.

"I thought you were dead, for fifteen years."

You scoff, "Oh, that's nothing for you, Time Lord and all."

The Doctor throws his hands up in frustration, "Oh, don't do that."

"Do what?" you demand.

"Pretend that it was nothing for me! You were everything to me," the Doctor says, taking another step closer, and you take a step back this time. You look at him with narrowed eyes, and in a low tone, you say, "You and I both know that's not true."

"What happened? Where did you go?"

"You and I both know what happened after Arcadia. I was ready to die. I thought I had served my purpose, what I was made for. I got shot midway through the regeneration process, and I felt it. I felt myself slipping away... I could only see the two suns, and then when I closed my eyes, there was this surge of energy... I couldn't explain it back then, and I can't now. But it was like someone had given me their regeneration energy... but when I looked around, no one was there, and I was no longer on Gallifrey."

The Doctor finishes the sentence for you, "You were brought to Earth."

You nod, "I still have no idea who did it. But now, I can't leave. And all those years, my memories were locked away in that old pocket watch until I met you... and then the stars started to go out once more, and I knew I had no choice… I couldn't stay with you."

"All those years... you were alone, just like me," the Doctor says, and you look away before sitting atop one of the crates by the pillar, sighing, "I need to leave again... planets could disappear and galaxies could collapse at any second, and we'd be back where we started."

The Doctor remains silent as you close your eyes, resting your head on one of the stacked crates behind you. You yearn for him. Every atom in your being longs for his presence, yet every angle you examine seems to present an unsolvable puzzle. Thus, you convince yourself that distancing is the best course for everyone involved. How does one repay a sacrifice of such magnitude?

Then, you detect his approaching footsteps, and he settles comfortably beside you, shoulders brushing as he leans in. "Or... we could finally figure out a way to solve the paradox."

Opening your eyes, you shoot him a pointed look. "Doctor, we're in the middle of yet another crisis. A spaceship just landed, and we have no bloody clue who the hell we're dealing with right now. And you want to solve the impossible with our situation?"

"Who says I can't multitask?" he retorts, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. You lightly smack him on the arm, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. Memories of the carefree early days flash through your mind, recalling lingering gazes and soft touches exchanged. Licking your lips nervously, you release a heavy breath, "One problem at a time. We have another alien on the loose."

The Doctor takes that as a win, a calculated risk, with the universe as a potential consequence. He's never demanded anything, and for the first time, he yearns for something for himself. He envisions it — hope — the prospect of finally rewriting the ending you both desperately desire.

The sonic clicks and buzzes as the Doctor conjures a holographic screen, displaying the schematics of the spacecraft that recently landed nearby. He retrieves his glasses from his coat pocket, donning them as he peruses the screen. Pressing a few buttons, he zooms in on the bottom part of the ship before highlighting the drive.

Frowning, your eyes narrow as an unsettling weight settles at the pit of your stomach while reading what's on the screen.

"Too good for us now?" Shirley remarks as she rolls up in her wheelchair. The Doctor briefly glances at her, nodding, and casually greets, "Evening."

Shirley smiles knowingly as she looks between the two of you. "Doctor. I see you and my colleague have talked. Has galaxies and universes collapsed yet?"

The Doctor hums, "Mmmm, not yet. Soon maybe, if I could get her to kiss me."

You smack him on the shoulder a little harder this time, and he yelps out, "Ow!" Making a face at him, you retort, "Oh, sod off!"

The Doctor gives you a cheeky smile while Shirley chuckles next to you. She then looks at the holographic screen on display, and the Doctor brings his focus back to the problem at hand, saying, "That’s a double-bladed dagger drive, damaged by laser fire which means we’ve got two sets of visitors at war with each other."

He glances at Shirley politely, "Nice to meet you. Did you get the heat readings on deceleration?" Shirley chuckles and clicks her tongue, "Oh, I got everything." She unfolds her tablet to give to the Doctor, who presses a button on his sonic screwdriver to close the holographic screen. Taking the tablet, he begins to analyze the readings as your colleague introduces herself, "Shirley Anne Bingham, UNIT Scientific Advisor number 56."

The Doctor sounds delighted, saying, "Oh! I was Scientific Advisor number one."

Shirley smiles, "No, I know. I’ve read the files. I’m gonna get a bonus just for meeting you."

The Doctor makes a face, not used to humble praise. "Oh."

Shirley then asks, "But why are you hiding away? We’re on the same side and it can’t be ‘cause of her now." She looks at you, and you also turn your attention to the Doctor.

He slightly groans and inhales sharply before replying, "It’s all a bit mad, Shirley. I don’t know who I am anymore."

Shirley crosses her legs in the wheelchair and says matter-of-factly, "Well, you look like the Doctor to me."

The Doctor shrugs, "Well, exactly. The one in the skinny suit. After that, I wear a bow tie. After that, I’m a Scotsman. After that, I’m a woman."

Shirley frowns, "But that’s your future. You can’t know that. It’s forbidden."

The Doctor replies, "I regenerated. And she became me."

Both of Shirley’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes widen as she says, "You got your old face back?"

The Doctor replies with a resounding pop, "Yep."

"But why?" Shirley asks, and the Doctor sighs, "Well, that’s what I’m worried about."

He then inhales deeply before continuing, “Because, besides this lovely stubborn woman right next to me,” you pinch the bridge of your nose briefly as he continues, “I've got this friend called Donna Noble. She was my best friend in the whole wide universe. I absolutely love her as much as I love this one right here.” The Doctor pulls a face and pouts, puffing out a breath as his thick eyebrows furrow, he says, “Oh. Hmm. Do I say things like that now?”

Shirley smiles at him while commenting, “Sounds like a good thing to say.”

You mumble, “I’m not used to this.”

“But Donna took the mind of a Time Lord into her head. I had to wipe her memory to save her life. If she ever remembers me she will die. So what happens next?” The Doctor said with emphasis and leaned closer to you and Shirley, “I get this face back, and the TARDIS lands right next to her. I turn around, there’s her husband. A spaceship crashes in front of her. That led me here to my other best friend in the whole wide universe, my Time Lady who I thought was dead for many years. It’s like she’s drawing us in.” The Doctor finishes, and you and Shirley give each other a look, processing everything he has just said. Especially you, who was processing the fact he called you his. You and Shirley blinked a few times before Shirley said, “What? She’s making it happen?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “No, she’s got no idea. She’s so ordinary. She’s brilliant. She’s got this beautiful daughter. She’s happy. Is she? Hmm.” He pauses before saying in a lower tone, “But the universe is turning around the two people I love the most again. I don’t believe in destiny, but if destiny exists, then it's heading straight for Donna Noble and quite possibly the love of my life right next to me.”

You blink in surprise, opening your mouth to try and say something, maybe correct him, but nothing comes out, so you sit there, mouth gaping next to him like a fish while Shirley has a toothy grin as you say to the Doctor, “Okay, I’m still not used to whatever this is… and I don’t think I ever will be. You’re kind of freaking me out a little, dear.”

The Doctor grins, “Ooh, are we doing pet names now darling?”

You rub your right eye, feeling a migraine beginning to form, “I… What the hell is happening? You sure you’re alright? Last time you regenerated into this form you had a high fever and you were… completely out of it.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose and sniffs, “I feel great. Fantastic even!”

You purse your lips, observing the Doctor from head to toe, and then focus on his eyes—those warm, inviting brown eyes. Softly, you remark, “You've grown.”

The Doctor returns your gaze, his lips forming a quirked-up smile that reveals a dimple. "Just a little bit, yeah."

Shirley interjects, steering the conversation back on course, “You said it was also heading for Donna. What for?”

The Doctor responds with a swift, “I don’t know.” Shirley replies with an, “Oh.” The Doctor continues, with deep emphasis, “But she can’t remember. I won’t be the one who kills her.”

Shirley nods, and the tablet in the Doctor’s hands beeps. He looks at it, saying, “Right. There’s no sign of a pilot, but that’s not an automatic drive, so you should look for–”

“Ma’am,” a soldier interrupts, cutting off the Doctor. He slinks back into the shadows, and you and Shirley listen to what the soldier has to say. “We found the escape pod. No sign of life, but we’re moving out to secure the site.”

Shirley quickly replies, “Good work, soldier. Go get it.” Dismissing the soldier and watching her walk away, the Doctor moves to stand, removing his glasses and putting them away, ready to follow the soldier. But Shirley raises her hand and says to him, “Uh, yeah, yeah. Not you two, mate. I’ve got this. Off you pop. Bye-bye.”

Shirley begins to roll her wheelchair away, leaving the Doctor and you confused. The Doctor then calls out to her, “Waited your whole life?”

To which Shirley throws a look over her shoulder as she responds with a smirk, “You wish.”

The Doctor looks at you, and you look up at him. He turns his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it with your hand. You glance at his hand and back to his eyes; he sees the uncertainty swirling through your gaze.

The Doctor speaks gently, “I know you aren’t ready and you’re scared… but I know you’re brave. And the universe listens to the brave. C’mon, it’s time to be brave again.”

You release a shaky exhale, swallowing the lump in your throat and dismissing the rational urge to walk away from him. Taking his hand, he tugs you along, pushing his legs into a run with you, hand-in-hand.

He thrusts the exit door open, utilizing his sonic screwdriver with his other hand on the back of the UNIT truck, the chains rattling as the trunk hatch pops open, pulling you with him to settle at the back of the truck.

As the UNIT truck pulls away, you see Shirley waving you off, and the Doctor gives her a small salute while you offer her a faint smile.

CHISWICK, LONDON – EVENING, 2023

You constantly poked your head out to see the stars, in case anything had changed. The Doctor held your hand, squeezing it every time you did, quietly reassuring you that whatever you faced, you'd do it together.

Arriving in the residential area, a long street lined with cars and now multiple UNIT trucks and soldiers running around, you could hear Donna shouting, “Oh, what the hell is it doing in my shed? Get out of my garden!”

The Doctor ran towards the sound of her voice, and you followed him. Reaching Donna's home, the Doctor pounded on the door, “Let us in! Let us in!”

Sylvia glared at the Doctor as she briskly walked towards him, but he exclaimed happily, “Sylvia! Oh, Sylvia! So nice to see you again. Could you let us in?”

Sylvia angrily whispered, “You said that if she sees you again, she will die. Well, no. If – if she remembers me. That’s slightly different.”

You heard and saw Donna through the stained glass yelling from down the hall, “No such thing as spaceships? We’ve got a bloody Martian in the shed!”

Sylvia angrily said, “Just get out of here, now.” But the Doctor knelt down to peek through the mail slot to see all the commotion, finding a small white fluffy creature with big eyes. “Oh, wow. He’s so cute,” the Doctor mumbled. With no other choice, he used his sonic to unlock the door as Sylvia told Donna, “Don’t look! Don’t look. It doesn’t exist.”

As the Doctor walked down the hall, with you trailing behind him, Sylvia whirled around to slap the Doctor. He grunted and groaned, “Here we go again.”

“It’s that man!” You recognized Rose say as Donna pointed at the Doctor, “Oh, it’s the skinny man!”

Sylvia continued to try and gaslight Donna, outstretching both her arms to block both of you, “He’s not there! You can’t see him. And there’s no monster. Oh, for the love of God, none of this is real!”

You and the Doctor ducked down and crawled to the creature to help assist them. In the middle of all the shouting and noise, you saw Shaun Temple appear, saying, “Hey, hey. Dad’s home.”

Everyone stood at a standstill, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do next. After a pause, Shaun commented with a small smile, “Something smells nice.” Sylvia smiled, “Tuna madras.”

“Meep, meep.”

As you and the Doctor sat on the floor, he carefully wrapped Meep’s injury in his hands with medical tape, while you quickly assessed if the Meep had any more injuries. Sylvia spoke to Donna, “We should think about infection. I mean, I think this man should deal with this beast, and we can leave him alone and go back to mine.”

Donna pulled her arm away from Sylvia and gestured around the Meep, “Never mind. Never mind about the ferret from Mars.” She gave you and the Doctor a pointed look as she growled out, “Who the hell are you two?”

You looked to the Doctor for help, and he stumbled over his words, “I– um. What was it?” He looked to Shaun who replied, “A friend from Nerys.” To which the Doctor promptly agreed, “That’s it.”

Donna scrunches her nose and says, “Nerys. Well, now it all makes sense. That viper in the nest.” She continues and points to the Meep, “I’m not going anywhere. We could sell mad Paddington for a million quid.”

Everyone reacted, giving Donna a pointed look and a noise of disagreement, “Woah!” Donna tried to justify her comment by saying, “You fill the fridge!”

The Doctor’s expressive eyebrows furrowed, and he asked Donna, “What did happen to all your money?” Donna got defensive and threw back, “Why are you so interested in us? Everywhere you go, there you are. Now you got this woman with you,” She gestured to you, “are you sure you’re safe with him, darling? Is he forcing you to be with him? Did he kidnap you?!”

You blinked wildly at Donna, “Uh, no– I’m good. He’s my partner.”

The Doctor smirked at you, “Ooh, I’m your partner?” To which you narrowed your eyes at him, “Quiet, you.” He pouted but continued to finish wrapping the injury of the Meep, then the Doctor said, “There is one person missing. I used to know your grandad, Wilf.”

Donna shook her head, “He’s not with us anymore.”

The Doctor had a somber expression as he nodded, “Right. Course. He wasn’t young; he was—” His lower lip trembled as he admitted, “I loved that man. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Donna shook her head, emphasizing, “He’s not dead.” Sylvia shot the Doctor a sharp look, “You idiot.”

The Doctor gaped at them, and Donna continued to share, “He’s in sheltered accommodation. He’s 94. He can’t manage the stairs.” Shaun took over, saying, “We were lucky. We couldn’t afford it, but this offer came along.”

Rose smiled, painting a vivid picture, “It’s amazing. He’s got this room, like a cottage and a garden, and it’s almost free.”

“Run by that lot in the middle of town? UNIT? This woman in charge, Kate, she says he’s an old soldier, she’ll look after him.” Shaun said, and the Doctor's face lit up, “Right. I know her. She’s looking after Wilf. Brilliant. Brilliant.”

Shaun tilted his head as he looked at you, “You look very familiar… Weren’t you with Kate as you were helping with the accommodations for Wilf?”

Your lips pinched together as you nodded, “Yeah, I work with UNIT. I check on him regularly; he’s wonderful.”

“Meep, meep.”

You and the Doctor turned to the fluffy white creature in front of you, and the Doctor’s eyebrows raised as he inhaled sharply, “Yes! The Meep. I promise I can help him get home. Then you’ll never have to see me, or well, the both of us ever again.”

Rose looked at the Doctor and gave him a questioning look, “You’re assuming he as a pronoun? Hmm.”

The Doctor took it in stride and nodded, “True. Yes. Sorry. Good point.” He quickly turned to the creature and asked, “Are you he, or she, or they?”

The high-pitched voice of the Meep responded, “My chosen pronoun is the definite article. I am always the Meep.”

The Doctor’s expression shifted to one of understanding as his thick eyebrows raised and he nodded, “Oh. I do that. But you were shot down. Who wants you dead?”

You tilt your head, captivated by the Meep's explanation, “The Wrath Warriors. They cultivate Meepkind for our beautiful fur. But then the galaxy said, ‘No more fur. It’s wrong. So the Wrath Warriors slaughtered their livestock.”

The Doctor crosses his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face, and leisurely leans back on the couch, letting his back rest against it, “You’re a fashion victim.”

A collective groan escapes from all the humans in the room, “No.”

The Doctor quickly mumbles an apology, and the Meep continues, “Now, they will hunt me down till there are no Meeps left.” The Meep sniffs, “It breaks both my hearts.”

You and the Doctor exchange surprised glances, both of your eyebrows raised. The Doctor shares with the Meep as he gestures to both of you, “You got two hearts? So do we.”

Donna quickly catches onto the Doctor's revelation and frowns, “You’ve got what?”

Sylvia tries to downplay what the Doctor just exposed, stammering as she speaks to Donna, “No. He means it like a metaphor. Like two minds. Do you?” You and the Doctor shake your heads, but suddenly there’s a pounding at the door.

“Open up!”

“Well, what the hell is it now?” Donna exclaims, her frustration evident as she wonders why all these strange anomalies keep happening. The Doctor pushes himself up, and you assist him with his navy blue coat as he puts it on. He continues addressing everyone in the room, “Ah, good. The soldiers! They can give us a lift.”

As he goes to answer the door, leaving you with the Meep and Donna’s family, Rose can't help but ask, “Are you two…”

Your cheeks feel flush, the tips of your ears turning warm, “Yep.”

Just as Donna is about to make a cheeky comment, you hear the Doctor slam the front door shut, loudly informing you all, “I think we need to run. Woah!”

Suddenly, an explosion rocks the backdoor, causing everyone to hit the ground with a collective yelp. You and the Doctor peek to look at the new visitor; arthropods, with a tough chitinous exoskeleton. With their external skeleton acting as a skelo-shield they had formidable strength. Their eyes were like large red lights. Seeing the Wrath Warriors enter while saying, “Wrath, attack formation! Surrender the Meep!”

UNIT soldiers burst in from the main entrance, their voices echoing down the hallway as they shout instructions to each other. The distant hum of gunfire and the vivid flashes of lasers light up the space, creating a chaotic symphony that fills your senses.

Donna, caught in the middle of the sudden onslaught, shouts in confusion and frustration, “What the hell is going on?”

The Doctor deftly manipulates his sonic screwdriver, adjusting its settings. He turns to Shaun and inquires, “Where’s your car?”

Shaun, bewildered but cooperative, responds, “Uh, five- five doors down.”

“Excellent.” The Doctor nods. He pivots, activating the sonic screwdriver to generate large, rectangular force fields. The blue glow emanating from the force fields reveals a recent upgrade, and you can't help but smile, commenting, “Nice upgrade, love.”

“Thanks, dearest. Help me move this, won’t you?” The Doctor passes the sonic to Donna, who handles it with familiarity. You and the Doctor work together to slide the force field into the first section of the hallway, dodging blaster shots as you go. Once in the living room again, you take the sonic from Donna, creating your force field with the Doctor’s scientific instrument. The Doctor observes you with admiration, and together, you slide the final force field into place, sealing off the area where the Wrath Warriors were firing from.

Immediately, the Doctor issues a commanding directive to the Noble-Temple family and the Meep, “Upstairs! Up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up!” They follow the urgent order, shrieking as they ascend the stairs, sandwiched between the force fields that shield them from the relentless onslaught of gunshots and laser fire.

“Come on, Meep!” The Doctor encourages, executing an energetic dance of hopping and flailing arms. The Meep responds with a whimper, “No.” Undeterred, you and the Doctor persist, the Doctor continuing his lively hopping routine, insisting, “Come on! That’s it.”

You guide the Meep up the stairs, the Doctor closely behind. A reassuring hand rests on your back as the trio ascends. When you're halfway across the corridor, a deafening explosion erupts from behind. The Noble-Temple family screams in fear, and you're thrown to the ground. However, the Doctor reacts swiftly, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to break your fall. In a protective move, he cushions the impact with his body, leaving you on top of him.

You swiftly roll off him, your palms hitting the floor as you propel yourself upward. Grasping the Doctor's hand, you haul him to his feet, both of you swiftly turning around to confront the aftermath—a colossal, gaping hole now occupying the space where a window once stood. Donna's cry of agony echoes through the room, "My house!"

Despite the devastation, there's no time for dwelling. The Doctor urgently directs everyone, gesticulating emphatically, "Upstairs. Upstairs, upstairs!"

Observing the Wrath Warriors soaring menacingly through the breached window, and amidst the symphony of gunfire and laser blasts echoing from the stairs, you and the Doctor deftly ascend to the third floor. With a swift motion, he lowers the ladder leading to the attic, urgently urging everyone, "Up we go! Fast as you can."

The entire group efficiently ascends to the attic. Positioned beside a robust brick wall connecting attics along the street, you and the Doctor huddle close. The Doctor showcases the device in his hand, proclaiming, "This is a sonic screwdriver. And if it's good at one thing, it's resonating concrete." He flips it in one hand before activating it, causing vibrations to ripple through the mortar.

Shaun interjects, "That's not concrete. That's mortar." Donna, in her familiarly exasperated tone, sighs and quips, "Thank you, Bob the Builder."

With a determined push, you and the Doctor dislodge the bricks, prompting them to cascade down. Donna crouches beside the Doctor, complimenting, "Skinny minnie, you're not bad."

The Doctor grins at Donna, "You think?"

However, Sylvia intervenes, frowning as she guides Donna aside, firmly asserting, "No, she doesn't. Now move."

"Come on. Five houses down," the Doctor grunts, effortlessly moving aside a box brimming with Christmas decorations. He takes the lead, guiding the family through the interconnected attics.

Traversing through these loft spaces, you witness the chaotic scene unfolding outside, with laser beams and gunshots punctuating the air. Explosions resonate in the distance as you navigate the makeshift route, carefully descending a staircase. Along the way, you stealthily pass by someone deeply immersed in sleep on a couch, oblivious to the turmoil around them.

Upon reaching a door, the Doctor jostles it open, revealing a view of the black cab parked a few meters away. Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and distant shouts, the Doctor extends his hand and requests, "Can I have the keys?" Shaun promptly hands them over.

As the Wrath Warriors advance with their menacing backs turned, the Doctor swiftly swings the door open, directing the family and the Meep into the sanctuary of the black cab. Positioned in the passenger seat, you observe the Doctor deftly using his fingers to check the pulse of a fallen UNIT soldier. Abruptly, a Wrath Warrior pivots, growling, "Meep located. Stop the Meep!"

Evading blaster fire with nimble agility, the Doctor slips into the driver's seat, swiftly igniting the engine and propelling the cab into motion. The Meep whimpers, "Help! Save the Meep!"

As the Doctor skillfully navigates away, Donna exclaims, "Oh my God!" Shaun pivots within the cab, jubilantly stating, "You did it!" Meanwhile, Rose chimes in, "We're alive," and Sylvia expresses gratitude, "Thank you."

"Meep, meep."

While the Doctor keeps a vigilant eye on the side mirrors during the escape, there's a discernible shift in his tone, "Either we've escaped, or we've got things very, very wrong."

UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE, LONDON – EVENING, 2023

The Doctor skillfully maneuvers the cab, smoothly parking it in an underground garage. A contemplative furrow graces his forehead as he steps out of the vehicle. With an attentive courtesy, he opens the passenger door, gesturing for you to alight from the cab. Simultaneously, he opens the back passenger door, facilitating the exit of the Meep.

The Doctor deftly extracts a barrister's wig from the depths of his coat, perching it atop his head with an air of theatrical flair. Meanwhile, the Meep positions itself purposefully in front of the cab. In a tone of authoritative declaration, the Doctor announces, "This court is now in session."

With a swift motion, he retrieves his trusty sonic screwdriver, and it emits a distinctive whiz as he proclaims, "Intercept teleport!"

The Meep emits a piercing shriek, swiftly retreating a few meters behind you and the Doctor. Donna, emerging from the cab, questions, "What the hell are you doing?" The Doctor, with an authoritative air, responds, "Silence in the court."

In the blink of an eye, two Wrath Warriors materialize just across from you and the Doctor. You stand there, massaging your face with your hand, as he adopts a menacing tone and declares, "I’m invoking Shadow Proclamation protocols 15, P, and 6. Under my jurisdiction, there will be no violence until such time I deem it fit and proper. Is that understood?"

The Wrath Warriors nod in compliance, dutifully stowing away their weapons to their sides. The Doctor, brandishing his sonic, gestures towards the taxi, asserting, “Now, exhibit A. The taxi. No scorch marks. Donna, can you confirm?” Donna swivels around, inspecting the taxi behind her, and nods, “Um. Yes, no, nothing.”

You arch your eyebrows, interjecting, “We were hit by plasma bolts, but there isn’t a mark.” The Doctor affectionately kisses your forehead, remarking, “Clever girl.” You duck your head, feeling a slight warmth in your chest and cheeks. He proceeds, “And that soldier in the street. He was unconscious, not dead.” Pointing at the Wrath Warriors' guns with his sonic screwdriver, he continues, “Exhibit B. Those guns are stun guns. Is that correct?”

The right Wrath Warrior nods, “The guns apply a mild and harmless neural anesthetic. For the record, my name is Sergeant Zogroth.” The left Wrath Warrior adds on and says, “And I am Constable Zreeg.”

The Meep interjects from behind you, its large ears folding to the side, “But the evil Wrath Warriors want to kill the Meep.”

“The only ones out to kill were the soldiers with the swirling eyes,” the Doctor asserts, gesturing in a circular motion with his sonic, his eyes widening to emphasize his point. “Were they coming to hurt you, the Meep? Or save you?” The Doctor eyes the furry creature suspiciously.

“If I may speak,” Sergeant Zogroth says, and the Doctor promptly replies, “Address the court.”

“The story of the Meep is a tragic tale. Their planet basked in the light of a living sun. Until one terrible day, the sun went mad,” Sergeant Zogroth began, his voice laden with the weight of the narrative. Constable Zreeg chimed in, “A psychedelic sun.”

Sergeant Zogroth continued, “Its radiation mutated all of Meepkind into cruel beasts who live for conquest.”

The Doctor's face lights up with realization, "The eyes. That's solar psychedelia." Sergeant Zogroth adds, “It renders them as maniacs.”

“The Meep army captured the Galactic Council, beheaded them, and ate them,” Constable Zreeg revealed, sending shivers down your spine. You and the Doctor exchange a grimace at the horrifying revelation. “The Wrath Warriors were summoned. And we fought across the stars, a long and awful battle,” Sergeant Zogroth continued with a somber tone.

“Meepkind died rather than surrender. And now, only this one survives. Their leader, the most cruel and despicable of all,” he added, pointing to the Meep, who responded with a plaintive, “Meep, meep.”

The Doctor, adopting a composed stance, interjects, “Now. Let’s be fair. It’s your turn, the Meep. Witness for the defense. So, what do you say?” The Doctor crosses his arms, and you observe as the Meep's innocent visage transforms into something more sinister and monstrous.

The Meep's sharp teeth are bared as it growls defiantly, "Oh, to hell with this!" With a swift motion, it brandishes a weapon, declaring, "Exhibit C!" The Meep takes aim and fires, bringing down the two Wrath Warriors, their bodies collapsing to the ground. You, the Doctor, and Donna quickly rush to the fallen foes. The Doctor, during the action, removes his barrister wig. The Meep, in a sinister tone, adds, "No stun guns for me! Just die!"

Shaun leaps out of the cab, urgently shouting, "Donna! Donna, don't!" Despite his plea, Donna remains fixated on the fallen warriors, her concern evident. You find yourself beside the Doctor on the ground as the Meep triumphantly declares, "And here they come! My soldiers of the psychedelic sun!"

Suddenly, a convoy of UNIT vehicles arrives, accompanied by soldiers with their distinctive headgear, forming a protective perimeter around all of you. Their authoritative voices ring out, "Obey the Meep!"

Donna, her maternal instincts flaring, turns to Shaun and passionately commands, "Get out! Get Rose out!"

Shaun swiftly maneuvers to the driver’s seat while Rose and Sylvia settle back in the taxi. However, the UNIT soldiers, now under the control of the Meep, have you all surrounded with no clear escape.

“I don’t need to pretend, for I am the Beep of all the Meeps,” the Meep declares, grinning menacingly with its sharp teeth.

Sergeant Zogroth emits a final groan, his parting words being, “Sergeant Zogroth regrets retirement from active duty.” His eyes dim, and his body goes limp. Donna, disgusted, confronts the Meep, saying, “I was right. You are a monster.”

The Meep revels in Donna’s anger, taunting, “And you believed every word I said. You stupid woman! With your weird child!”

Donna, ready to confront the Meep for insulting her daughter, stands defiantly, retorting, “Oh, don’t you dare!”

The Meep, relishing the confrontation, points its weapon at Donna, threatening, “Oh, I dare!”

You quickly rise, positioning yourself in front of Donna, raising your hands in a protective stance. Simultaneously, the Doctor moves across the floor on his knees, hands raised, pleading, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! But— Last-minute evidence! Me.”

He emphatically points to himself and exclaims, “Why are there two more two-hearted species on this planet? Unless we are part of a strategy by the Wrath Warriors to outfox you? If you kill me and her and fail to take this family hostage, you’ll never find out, will you?”

The Meep hums, then commands the soldiers, “Bring them!”

The Doctor stands animatedly, “Good! Now, look, I can suggest a much better way off this planet than a double-bladed dagger drive. ‘Cause that thing is gonna—”

His sentence remains unfinished as he is abruptly knocked out by a UNIT soldier. The Meep cackles triumphantly as the rest of you are ushered into the back of a truck, alongside the unconscious Doctor.

On the truck's floor, the Doctor lay with his head resting on your lap, his unconscious form a testament to the challenges you faced. Your fingers moved soothingly through his untamed, spikey hair, offering a quiet comfort amid the tension.

Donna observed the scene, her curiosity getting the better of her. "How long have you two been together?" she inquired, attempting to place where she might have encountered you before.

"A good number of years," you replied, choosing to keep the more intricate details to yourself, considering the Doctor's timeless nature.

Rose, equally intrigued, posed another question, "Are you two married?"

A snort escaped you. "Nope. I don't think he wants that with me if I'm being honest."

“Why?” Rose pressed on.

Your gaze drifted, and you sniffed softly. "I’m all sorts of wrong for him. And sometimes, it scares me. The emptiness I see in my eyes,” you admitted, vulnerability seeping into your words. Your eyes lingered on the Doctor as you continued, “The Doctor is brilliant. He is truly brilliant. After all he’s been through... he deserves everything good and more… more than me.”

As your confession lingered in the air, the Doctor began to stir awake, bringing a momentary hush to the truck. His eyes fluttered open, and a low groan escaped him as he gradually sat up, settling next to you.

Donna eyed the Doctor with suspicion, her narrowed gaze fixed on him. "Who are you?" she questioned, her tone demanding answers.

The Doctor, still feeling the effects of his earlier unconsciousness, touched the back of his head with a wince. "I’m just passing by," he nervously replied, attempting to deflect her inquiries.

Undeterred, Donna redirected her attention to her mother, Sylvia, and pressed on, "Do you know him?" Sylvia, in an attempt to conceal any familiarity, shook her head, responding, "No."

Donna, frustrated and puzzled, continued, "You act like you know him. Ever since he arrived, it’s like—" She heaved a heavy sigh, abruptly halting her train of thought. "I’m so stupid!" she declared, voicing her self-reproach.

Shaun quickly reassured his wife, "No. No, you’re not."

Donna shook her head, lost in contemplation. "We could be living somewhere far away from here. Monte Carlo. Switzerland." She then turned to her daughter Rose, who sat beside her. "And you— And you’d be safe, Rose." Donna pulled Rose into a comforting side hug. "It’s all my fault. Gave away that lottery money."

The Doctor, unable to resist his curiosity, interjected, "Why?"

Donna shot him a glare. "Because. There are places out there where people are in danger. And in pain. And fear. And I could help. Just felt the sort of thing he would do." Her words hung in the air, revealing a sense of duty and compassion that drove her actions.

Abruptly, the truck jolts to a stop, resulting in the Doctor colliding with one of the crates, eliciting a pained groan. You swiftly move to assist him. The truck door swings open, and a stern voice commands, "Out!"

MILLSON WAGNER STEELWORKS

NORTH LONDON, – EVENING, DECEMBER 2023

The UNIT soldiers briskly led you towards the heart of the steelworks, where the Meep's spaceship had strategically landed.

"It didn't choose the steelworks by accident. It came here to be mended," the Doctor remarked as the group neared the spacecraft. The Meep made a grand entrance, seated on a makeshift throne of steel carried by a procession of UNIT soldiers. With its menacing teeth and booming voice, it declared, "Hail to the Meep!"

A hypnotic chant echoed through the steelworks as multiple officers joined in unison, "Hail to the Meep. Hail to the Most High. Hail to the Meep. Hail to the Most High."

"Human scum, behold my vessel to the stars! Far beyond your tiny, grasping minds," Beep the Meep declares with an air of arrogance. You respond with an eye roll of annoyance, and the Doctor shakes his head while humorously interjecting, "I name this ship the Delusions of Grandeur."

Beep the Meep growls in protest, "Meep."

"You can't fire those engines. Not from here. A dagger drive gets its energy by stabbing down. It would extract, ooh, five square miles? The whole of London town burnt as fuel," the Doctor explains, his tone serious and concerned.

Rose, wearing a frown, adds, "But that's nine million people."

"A great day for Meepkind. And the start of a new reign of terror as the Meep return to the stars for revenge. And feasting. Now, activate the initializers," the Meep commands, its voice dripping with malevolence.

A disciplined UNIT soldier swiftly responds, "Initializers activated."

The low hum of the spaceship's engines reverberates through the steelworks as the Meep grins with an evil glint in its eyes, proclaiming, "Brandish the gravity stanchions."

"Gravity stanchions brandished," announces a focused UNIT soldier as the prongs of the spacecraft forcefully dig into the ground.

"Calibrate the flight deck," the Meep commands with a sense of authority, intensifying the tension in the air.

A disciplined UNIT member announces, "Flight deck calibrated."

The Meep, perched on its steel throne, commands, "Take the prisoners on board! Then I’ll decide which one to eat first. Hail to Meep!"

The rhythmic chant of the hypnotized UNIT soldiers fills the air, "Hail to the Most High! Hail to the Meep!" while the Meep indulges in a sinister cackle, reveling in its delusions of grandeur.

The liftgate slams shut, transporting you to a different floor. Thoughts of subduing the UNIT guards swirl in your mind as the lift grinds to a halt. As the gate creaks open, Shirley appears, wearing a mischievous grin. "Evening, boys."

With swift precision, she activates a concealed device beneath her wheelchair, firing two darts at each soldier. The tranquilizers swiftly take effect, rendering the guards unconscious.

"You've got weapons in your wheelchair," the Doctor exclaims, eyeing Shirley with a mixture of surprise and admiration. She glances back at him, a knowing look in her eyes, and responds, "We all have. You've got your girl to thank for that. Come on." With a nod, she leads the way, wheeling herself confidently through the complex.

"Right. You lot, the family, you can get out through that door," Shirley says, gesturing towards the exit on the right. She then turns her attention to you and the Doctor, her tone more serious, "You need to get to the engine control. But the port side’s guarded, and there's no way around it."

A quick exchange of glances between you and the Doctor precedes his question to Shirley, "So what do we do?"

With a confident smirk, Shirley retorts, "I don’t just fire darts, mate." She spins her wheelchair around, revealing hidden capabilities. With the push of a button, two missiles activate and blast through the wall, creating a makeshift path forward. The unexpected firepower leaves you and the Doctor momentarily impressed.

Shirley swiftly directs the family, "You lot run. I’ll fight them off at the lift."

The Doctor tightens his grip on your hand, leading you through the large breach in the wall. The chaotic, metallic environment of the spaceship's bridge unfolds before you. With his trusty sonic screwdriver, the Doctor deftly manipulates the controls, unlocking the gate to the engine control room. As the door creaks open, the two of you step inside, ready to stop the ship from taking off.

The Doctor removes his coat and hangs it on one of the pillars as the ship's system voice declares, “Dagger drive systems initializing.”

In a sudden burst of energy, Donna enters the control room panting, "That's enough… running. Blimey."

The system voice abruptly announces, “Chamber deadlocked.” Panic sets in as the only exit seals shut, leaving the Doctor frustrated. He slams his hands on the door, exclaiming, “No, no, no, no! I told you to go—just don’t!”

Frantically, he moves about the room, urging, “No time. I’ve got this. We’ve got it. We’ve got it. You stay there. Don’t move, Donna!”

The Doctor and you scramble around, pressing buttons and flicking switches, racing against time as the system voice declares, “Star launch in five minutes.”

Climbing up one of the pillars, the Doctor instructs you while you squat on the other side to manipulate hidden switches. Suddenly, the system announces, “Deadlock sealed.” A flicker of discomfort courses through both of you as the ship's mechanisms react.

“It’s been deadlocked,” you groan, and Donna questions, “What’s that mean?”

The Doctor replies swiftly, “It means, we can do it by hand.”

You move to the far end of the ship, and the system voice chimes in again, “Maxifold bisecting.” A glass pane wall starts dividing the room, separating you from the Doctor and Donna. “You can stay on that side Doctor, I—” But then the Doctor rolls under the glass just before it seals, protesting, “Oh. No, no, no, no!”

“Double dagger drive installed and initiated.”

You can feel your eye twitch as you look at the Doctor standing next to you. “Okay, okay. Okay, we can do it with half the room. That’s fine.” The Doctor tries to reassure himself and you look at him wondering why he had to end up on your side of the room.

“Let me help.” Donna insists and the Doctor is quick to disagree, “No! You can’t get involved.”

Donna looks at the Doctor with a glare, challenging him and the Doctor tries to steady his resolve, “You can’t!”

It's then your turn to shoot him a pointed look. The Doctor groans and pants in frustration before finally surrendering. He instructs Donna, "Switches, the top ones, the blue ones, flick them all down."

Donna diligently follows his directions, swiftly flicking the switches down, while you navigate to a different section of your side of the room to spin a dial a few times. Despite your efforts, it proves futile, and you slump down in disappointment. The Doctor, leaning defeatedly on a pillar, somberly admits, "We've run out of time."

“Ignition in 230.”

The Doctor sighs with a heavy burden on his shoulders as he confides in Donna, "If there was anything else I could do, but there's one thing left."

"Well— Well, then do it," Donna urges, her tone laced with desperation. The Doctor, however, looks down in shame, prompting Donna to insist, "Hurry up and do it! What are you waiting for?"

Pushing himself off the pillar, the Doctor strides over to the glass partition separating Donna from the two of you. "I think… all that coincidence was heading here to save London from burning. 'Cause the three of us can stop this ship. Together."

Donna gasps in realization, "Oh."

As you rise and move towards the glass, locking eyes with Donna, you declare, "But it will kill you."

Donna sharply inhales, and responds easily, “Okay.”

The Doctor’s voice cracks as he says, “You’ll die.”

Donna's lower lip trembles, her eyes reflecting the imminent crisis, as she says, "My daughter is down there."

"Ignition in 180."

Tears well up in Donna's eyes, and her voice stammers with fear, "And it's not just Rose. It's nine million people. Who cares about me?"

The Doctor responds swiftly, his urgency palpable, "I do. We both do."

Donna takes a deep breath, mustering courage, and asks, "But why?" She pauses, gathering her thoughts, and continues, "I'm just no one."

The Doctor's expression shifts to one of anger, his eyebrows furrowing as he yells, "No, you are not!"

He takes a few steps back, the weight of the situation evident in his sob and scream, "Why does it have to be this?"

"Entering the final sequence."

The Doctor looks at Donna with a somber gaze, defeated, as he utters the words that trigger Donna's memories, "Westerly. Pelican. Dreams."

Donna is desperate as she says, "I don't— Look, I don't care what it is. All right. Just— just go on and do it, will you?"

"Ignition in 150."

"Tornado. Clifftops. Andante," the Doctor says.

"Get on with it!" Donna shouts.

The Doctor continues, "Grief. Fingerprint. Susurration."

Donna's eyes light up as she begins to remember her adventures, "Oh."

The Doctor and Donna utter the last few words in unison, "Sparrow. Dance. Mexico. Binary. Binary. Binary."

A golden glow emanates from Donna, the metacrisis shimmering through as she regains her memories once more. You and the Doctor press your palms against the glass, witnessing her transformative moment.

"Ignition in 100."

As the glow dissipates, the Doctor anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Ignition in 90."

Donna pants, sighs, and sweeps her bangs away from her eyes as she glares at the Doctor. Inhaling deeply, she says, "I gave away my money."

"Ignition in 75."

The Doctor looks at her, puzzled, "Right, but—"

Donna, expressing a mix of frustration and anger, interrupts, "I gave away all my money. And do you know why, Doctor? I gave it away to be like you. So I could be kind. So I could be nice. So I could be helpful— I—"

Donna releases a frustrated growl as the system voice continues, "Ignition in one minute."

Moving her face closer to the glass panel, Donna continues, "I had a subconscious, infracutaneous, retrofold memory loop making me act as soft as you and give away 166 million pounds!"

"Ignition in 50."

The Doctor, wide-eyed, nods in agreement but attempts to refocus on the urgent matter, "Yes, Donna, but— Destruction of London?"

"Oh, I'll show you destruction, mate," Donna declares, intertwining her fingers before flexing them to crack her knuckles.

"Ignition in 40."

You and the Doctor observe in awe as Donna moves around the control panel with ease. "I'll triple-drive the particle manifesto, overstep the umbilical feed, vindicate the cyberline, and roast the hyperfeeds! Like this!" Donna exclaims, spinning the dial on the lower left of her.

The Doctor navigates about half of the room, deftly flicking switches while instructing, "Maximise the stressfold links!"

"Channel up the booster drive!" Donna commands, pressing a few buttons.

"Inculcate the plexidrones!" You chime in, flicking a few more switches.

"And shatterfry the positrons! Oh yes!" Donna exclaims.

"Twenty, nineteen..."

Donna interrupts, asking, "How long have I got to live?" as she switches off a few controls.

"...sixteen, fifteen..."

All three of you simultaneously answer, "Fifty-five seconds."

"Thirteen, twelve, eleven..."

"The best fifty-five seconds of my life!" Donna exclaims.

"Seven, six, five, four..."

"Because I get to do this!" Donna proudly announces, turning around and simultaneously flicking off several switches.

"Three, two— Ignition halted."

You three watch as the panel flies off the wall; the countdown has stopped, and Donna proudly states, "Donna Noble is descending."

"Ignition reverse. Ignition reverse."

"It’s working!" The Doctor's voice resonates with exhilaration as the tangible effects of the reversed dagger drive unfold before your eyes.

However, your joy is cut short when you notice Donna beginning to falter. Panic sets in, and you urgently cry out, "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

Swiftly, both you and the Doctor move in unison to catch Donna as she descends, cradling her fragile form in your arms. Donna sighs, her expression reflecting a mix of exhaustion and relief. The Doctor reassures her, "We did it. She’s fine. She’s safe. You saved her."

Donna smiles weakly, and you add, "You saved them all."

In a moment of introspection, Donna questions, "Why did this face come back?" She turns her gaze towards the Doctor, who responds with a sigh, "I don’t know."

"To say goodbye," Donna asserts with a soft smile. She then shifts her attention to you, saying, "Oh, the Stargazer. I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too, Donna, every day," you confess, and the Doctor emits a thoughtful hum.

"Good fun, though," Donna remarks, her chuckles mingling with yours and the Doctor's. The lighthearted moment takes an abrupt turn as Donna's eyes flutter closed, her entire being going limp in the arms of her two closest companions.

A collective sob escapes from you and the Doctor as you sit there, cradling your best friend, a bittersweet mixture of victory and loss filling the air.

Abruptly, the door to the engine control room opens, revealing a cadre of UNIT soldiers with swirling, hypnotized eyes. The air tightens with tension as one of them declares, "We have orders to kill you."

Undeterred, the Doctor retorts defiantly, "Do what you want. This ship isn't going anywhere. You were beaten. By the DoctorDonna." The soldiers, rifles at the ready, cast ominous shadows in the confined space. You resign yourself to the impending threat, feeling the Doctor's protective instinct as he positions himself to shield you.

In a surprising turn, the psychedelic light emitted from the soldiers' eyes screeches and hisses, dissipating into nothingness. Bewilderment echoes through the room, and you join the Doctor in uttering a perplexed, "What?"

Even one of the soldiers can't help but question, "What?"

Donna, roused from her unconscious state, adds her own disoriented, "What?"

The Doctor, his voice tinged with disbelief, softly utters, "You're not dead."

A collective sense of confusion lingers, and Donna, now fully awake, queries, "But how?" as she steadies herself.

After a brief pause, Rose's voice resonates through the intercom, "Can you hear me? Mum? Doctor? Star? I think it's safe for you to come down now."

Donna responds, perplexed, "Rose?"

The Doctor's eyes widen with a sudden epiphany, "Too much power for one person, but you had a child, and the metacrisis passed down. A shared inheritance."

Donna grins, “It was always there. Shining out of her.”

“And she chose her own name,” the Doctor adds.

“Oh, the shed! The shed was her memory of the TARDIS. The toys! Every creature we met, she remembered as a toy,” Donna says with a glint in her eye.

You gape, suddenly realizing, “We are binary.”

“She’s not. Because the Doctor’s—”

The Doctor interjects, “Male.”

“And female,” Donna finishes.

"And neither. And more," Rose says, her voice carrying a warm smile through the intercom.

Donna rushes down the stairs, her steps echoing in the cavernous steelworks. Rose meets her halfway, and they share an emotional hug, Shaun joining in the embrace.

You and the Doctor follow suit, descending rapidly to the ground floor. Sylvia awaits, and as you approach, the Doctor wraps her in a jubilant hug. He inquires, “Happy now?”

Sylvia responds with a radiant smile, "My father would be impressed. I have no higher compliment." Laughter of triumph fills the air as you and the Doctor proceed to the nearby control center.

Shirley deftly maneuvers her wheelchair towards you and the Doctor, offering her unique perspective. She addresses the Doctor with a sly grin, “There’s a word for you, Doctor. And that word is jammy.”

The Doctor responds with infectious enthusiasm, “Jam on toast.” He decisively slams a button, activating the intercom. With authority, he speaks into the microphone, “Calling the Meep.”

The Meep's defiant voice crackles through the speakers, “You forget I still have my ship. And if I have to explode the engines and rupture this world and damn us all to hell, then I will!” A shared glance between you and the Doctor follows, and he graciously hands you the task of flicking the crucial switch.

With a resounding click, the Meep’s cockpit is ejected into the sky, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of the Meep's distressed shrieks. You and the Doctor gaze upward, drawn into the spectacle unfolding against the canvas of the vast night sky.

“There you go.” The Doctor points with a wry smile, observing the Meep’s cockpit deploying a parachute against the cosmic backdrop.

You feel the Doctor's reassuring grip on your waist as he pulls you into his side. Together, you look up, transfixed by the celestial display. The stars twinkle above, and in that moment, you choose to hope and believe that nothing universe-ending has transpired yet.

As the sun ascends on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the scene, the Wrath Warriors stand sternly with the imprisoned Meep, forming an uneasy tableau. You step forward, addressing them with a heavy heart, "Sergeant Zogroth and Constable Zreeg gave their lives, alongside many Earth soldiers."

The Wrath Warrior, resolute in the face of the aftermath, declares, "Their names will be included in the litany of crimes as the Meep atones in prison for 10,000 years." The Meep, defiant in defeat, mutters, "Oh, I will escape and have my revenge. So you beware, Doctor and Stargazer, because there’s one more thing."

With a determined stride, the Doctor moves closer, inquiring, "Which is?"

“A creature with two hearts is such a rare thing. And to have two of your kind here… Just wait till I tell the boss,” the Meep retorts, an ominous promise lingering in the air. The Wrath Warriors and the Meep vanish in a teleportation, leaving a sobering aftermath beneath the morning sun.

The Doctor, caught in contemplation, mumbles under his breath, "Cryptic. I hate that." He takes a deep breath, turning his attention to Donna and Rose with a sense of urgency, "But… we’ve still gotta fix you two. ‘Cause the metacrisis might have slowed down, but that thing is wrapped around your cortex."

Donna, with an eye roll and a knowing nod, quips, “Yes, we know.”

Rose adds confidently, “We know everything, thanks.”

Donna, in her typical nonchalant manner, shrugs, “And you know nothing. It’s a shame you’re not a woman anymore. ‘Cause she’d have understood.”

Rose, crossing her arms, asserts with confidence, “You’ve got all that power, but there is a way to get rid of it. Something a male-presenting Time Lord will never understand.”

Donna, ever pragmatic, advises, “Just let it go.”

The unity between mother and daughter becomes evident as Rose takes Donna’s hand, and together, they release the accumulated metacrisis energy. Shaun interjects with a grin, “Like I said, mate, how lucky am I?”

Rose, with a joyous laugh, concludes, “After all these years, I’m… finally me.”

CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023

Shaun skillfully navigates the vehicle, bringing the group back to Camden Market in London. Earlier, you had informed Shirley about the intention to bid farewell to the Doctor and Donna before returning to headquarters. Shirley responded with a nonchalant, "Sure..." accompanied by a discerning look, rolling away from you in her wheelchair.

The Doctor maintains his characteristic chattiness as he informs Donna, "And UNIT has a splendid insurance policy for damage caused during an alien war. While they sort that out..." Approaching the iconic tall blue police box, the TARDIS, the Doctor gestures towards it, saying, "One last trip?"

"Uh, don’t you dare," Sylvie interjects with a pointed look. Donna, casting puppy eyes at both you and the Doctor, laments, “Do you know, I would love to.” She then takes a sharp inhale, sighs, and adds, “But… I have got adventures of my own, bringing up this one.” Donna points her thumb towards Rose.

“Can I see inside?” Rose asks the Doctor curiously, taking a step toward the TARDIS. Donna, however, swiftly moves her away, cautioning, “No. No! No. No.”

Rose sighs, and Donna playfully waves her finger, “No. Because summat will go wrong, and you’ll end up on Mars with Chaucer and a robot shark. And that’s actually happened, hasn’t it.”

The Doctor gives a sheepish, “Oh, yeah.”

“But I was thinking, we could go and see Wilf?” The Doctor suggests to you and Donna.

Donna then says, “Now that is cheating.”

The Doctor pouts, “Just a suggestion.”

“I mean it, don’t you dare.” Sylvie says, and Donna sighs, “But imagine his face, Mum. Oh, he would be so happy. All those secrets Grandad kept for years. He— He thought I’d never remember. And to see the Doctor. One last time.”

The Doctor and Donna make a puppy face to you and Sylvie, urging you to join them. Sylvie relents and gives in, “Oh, all right. But one trip. That’s all. Just one.”

The Doctor turns to unlock the door with his key while Donna laughs with glee, “One tiny, little trip. That is a promise.”

Donna turns to you and the Doctor and gasps in excitement, “It’s like the old days. Just me, the Doctor, and the Stargazer. Together.” She then turns to her family, “Is that all right?”

“Yeah, of course it is,” Shaun says confidently with a huge smile.

“Well, a lot of husbands would worry. You know, me, in a box, with another man.” Donna jokes, and Shaun shrugs and shakes his head, “Yeah. But not him.”

The Doctor looks somewhat offended, but then Donna shoos him to go inside, “Come on, space man.”

In the quiet aftermath, with Donna entering the TARDIS, the Doctor notices the unsure expression on your face. He whispers to Donna to go ahead, and she complies, leaving the two of you alone, behind the TARDIS, sheltered from prying eyes.

With a gentle gesture, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He cups your face with both hands, his smile revealing dimples that carry the weight of countless adventures. “The stars haven’t gone out.”

Your raised brows betray a hint of skepticism, “Yet…”

The Doctor locks eyes with you, his deep dark brown orbs conveying understanding. As tears well up in your eyes, you break the silence, your voice a fragile whisper, “You have no idea how bad it gets. How scared I am that all of this is temporary and I lose you… and I can’t have you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey. None of that,” he reassures, his gaze unwavering. “So far, everything has been leading me back to you. And when the time comes to face it… we’ll fix it… together. I can’t lose you again. Not ever again.”

His words linger in the air, a vow shaped by the quiet resilience of a Time Lord who has navigated countless challenges across time and space. You respond with a nod, sealing the unspoken pact, and tenderly kiss his wrists. In return, he draws you closer, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“When this is all over,” he declares, “we’re getting married.”

“What?” you screech, caught off guard by the unexpected revelation.

“We've waited this long. I’m not spending the rest of my how many years without you,” the Doctor insists, his eyes earnest.

“Is this a proposal?” you inquire, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice.

“If you want,” he smirks, playfully nonchalant.

On tiptoe, you reach up to kiss the tip of his nose, a tender acknowledgment, “We'll see.” The promise of an unwritten future hangs in the air, held by the shared understanding that time and space will unfold their stories together.

THE TARDIS

The Doctor guides you inside the TARDIS and closes the door behind him and both of you are in awe of the major changes of the entire TARDIS. Huge curved white walls with round circles that glow with lights and many ramps that lead to different corridors.

The Doctor hangs his coat on one of the railings as he grins and laughs, “Whoa!” He begins to run around all the ramps with the energy of a little kid as he shouts, “This is amazing!”

“It changed! Oh, you clever thing! Look at that!” The Doctor laughs as he finishes his lap around the new interior of the TARDIS. He runs over to the console and smiles, “It’s got this!”

He pushes a lever forward, and the lights within the TARDIS shift to a vibrant orange, casting a warm glow. Your gaze is drawn upward in awe as the ambient hum of the time machine resonates around you. Running your fingers along the railings, you can feel the TARDIS responding, and you affectionately murmur, “Hello, sweet thing. I missed you too.”

Amid the luminous atmosphere, the Doctor darts around the console, engaging with switches and buttons on the refurbished device. Donna, observing the transformation, remarks, “It’s still a bit nippy.”

The Doctor protests, “Oh, come on!”

Undeterred, Donna concedes with a grin, “All right…” Her expression changes as she admires the surroundings, “It’s gorgeous!” Laughter bubbles up from both Donna and the Doctor, who joins in the jubilation, bouncing excitedly.

“It’s cleaner. And it’s grown,” Donna observes, her laughter echoing through the TARDIS.

Making your way to the console, you overhear Donna questioning the Doctor, “But I— I still don’t get it. I mean, the TARDIS can change all right. But what about your face? Why did it come back?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” the Doctor muses, and Donna, with a snort, retorts, “In your life? Yes!”

With a nonchalant shrug, the Doctor remarks, “Well, I’m stuck with it now.” He continues exploring the console, fidgeting with excitement, and comments, “Oh, this thing is brilliant. It’s even got a coffee machine!” Glancing at you and Donna, he inquires, “You want one?”

You shake your head, “No, thank you, darling.”

“You’re kidding,” Donna says with wide eyes.

“With cold milk, yeah?” The Doctor deftly presses a few buttons, and Donna, smiling, says, “Well remembered.” To your delight, a white cup materializes with coffee and cold milk.

He carefully hands the cup of coffee to Donna who says, “Thank you very much. Careful. It’s how I lost my job. Dropped a coffee in the computer.”

To which the Doctor just hums and moves to flick a few more switches around the console as you lean on a railing, to listen to him say, “I really do remember, though. Every second with you. I’m so glad you’re back ‘cause it killed me, Donna.” The Doctor clicks another switch as he continues on, “It killed me, it killed me, it killed me.”

"We can have more days, can’t we?" Donna inquires, her tone laced with a mix of hope and curiosity. Her eyes reflect a desire for a future filled with shared moments. Continuing with optimism, she suggests, "I mean, why is it such a big goodbye with you? Why is it one last trip? ‘Cause you could visit. With my family."

The Doctor, absorbed in examining a screw, listens attentively as Donna paints a vivid picture of ordinary yet precious moments. "We could do outrageous things, like have tea, dinner, and a laugh! And Rose’s school play. Well, maybe not that. She can’t act. She’s terrible. I don’t know how to tell her. But the point is, you’ve been given a second chance. You can do things differently this time."

Encouraging him to embrace change, Donna suggests, "So why don’t you do something completely new and have some friends?"

The Doctor contemplates the idea, responding with a hesitant "Maybe. Yeah." Donna chuckles, savoring the simplicity of their current moment. "Mmm. Like now," she remarks, lifting her cup as if to toast. "Here we are. Having a coffee."

Before the Doctor can respond, Donna's accidental spillage disrupts the calm, eliciting a gasp from her. "What’s gonna go wrong—" Her sentence is abruptly cut off as the spilled coffee interacts with the TARDIS console, resulting in sparks and flames.

With urgency, Donna questions, "What’s happening?" The Doctor, swift in his actions, ushers both you and Donna away from the unfolding chaos. The TARDIS groans and whines as its engines protest, and the cloister bell rings ominously in the background.

"We could end up anywhere in time and space," the Doctor confesses, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. As the atmosphere fills with anticipation, you brace yourself, thinking, "Here we go again."

TAGLIST:

#14th doctor #14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x fem!reader #fourteenth doctor #ethereal writes #doctor who 60th anniversary #60th anniversary #catherine tate #doctor who special #david tennant #14th doctor x fem reader #doctor who x reader #donna noble #doctor who

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silkscream · 4 months

Text

CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist.

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling.

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you.

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression.

“What was that?”

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly.

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice.

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him.

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement.

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion.

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself.

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table.

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same.

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it.

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery.

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that.

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor.

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend.

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery.

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind.

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself.

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues.

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things.

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder.

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students.

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!”

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye.

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less.

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it.

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since.

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases.

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it.

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.”

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.”

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.”

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different.

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him.

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout.

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s.

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it.

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him.

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly.

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him.

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.”

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal.

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie.

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles.

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins.

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist.

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace.

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.”

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes.

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously.

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother.

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #juijutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

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My Oath

day six of celebration marathon

Percy Jackson x platonic!demigod!reader. (God of the unknown because I can’t help myself, he is a oc of mine for my pjo series)

-£ plot: Your father has learned of a new forbidden child. As his number one he sends you to do his bidding. until your loyalty is challenged.

-words: 1k

-£part two?

-£ warnings: angst, plot of murder, new plot, slight spoilers for readers father in “a love watered by blood”, god of the unknown, (Big spoilers. Reader is sent to kill Pecy) , also the song from Epic:the Troy sagas “the horse and the infant” is what this is based off of.

you were no oath breaker.

you bowed at your fathers feet as he sat upon his throne. the place you called home was dark and misty, your fathers doing, it was a place of mistrust but undying loyalty to him. it was you who was called on often as you served at his hand, you proved your worth as a demigod and you became something more when he took you into his ranks. no other gods dared to speak to him and he liked it that way, no fuss or chatting.

they had many secrets. and he could spill them all.

he hated his “family” and they knew it. wars have been taught over centuries and he picked a side with little care. but he did love secrets and nothing was kept from him even in the smallest corner in the world. every whisper was his to hear.

“what is needed of me.” your eyes stayed on the marble floor beneath your knee, your arms thrown over and await his command.

“i have found a forbidden child, again,” he picked at his nails, his body slumped against the throne.

“a son of poseidon, perseus jackson. make his death quick, but i don’t care if it’s painful.”

you slowly looked up at him, you examined his calm and carelessness behavior. a forbidden child was not unheard of to you, as you have been sent to watch a few over the many years. killing was easy for you, no harm came to your mind as the thought of displeasing your father outweighed any death you caused by your hands.

“tell me where to go.” you agreed to the quest.

earth was a strange place, especially since you grew up in a different time. though you watched the mortal realm in the mirror in your room, finding peaceful places and happy memories being created. but it was a curse, no matter how hard you tried to fight it, when your eyes closed you would dream about the horrors of life. maybe it was a way of life getting back at you for being the cause of destruction— a weapon to be used.

creeping into the apartment building, the widow was not able to keep you out since you had many tools. you’ve done things like this, sneak and kill, return and repeat at his command. you never failed— in fear of being destroyed yourself, a gods wrath was a hard punishment for anyone.

the room was dark and only the light from the moon shined in, making things noticeable. the clothes sticked to your skin from the weather that night. drawling your dagger, preparing to kill your next victim and without causing destress or a fight. but it wasn’t a man you saw. it wasn’t a bed.

it was a crib, a few shells hanging above the babes sleeping body.

stepping back in shock and hesitation you stare at the infant. he was so small. he looked healthily. how is he going to cause any harm? you couldn’t kill a child- a baby. someone unwilling to make decisions for themselves. your doubts and thoughts caused your ears to start ringing, the drums getting pressure built on them.

“I can sense you have your doubts,” the deep voice makes your body shiver and look down at the bracelet on your wrist. the only thing your father gifted you, a silver band with a mirror attached in the center. he could see what was happening anytime without fail. all mirrors are a portal for his eyes.

“He’s just a boy- what kind of threat does he pose?” you kept your voice low and hushed to not awake the mother of the babe.

“he is a forbidden child, you know what that entails. you’ve seen it with your own eyes the damage they cause, the wars started with unfair advantages. that child will grow into a soldier, cause chaos everywhere he steps and gets good people killed. you know I am right.” each point he made was the same he used before to justify his actions.

“don’t make me do this.” you plead. you’ve never begged before, never spared a life in all your years. but never, have you been sent to kill someone so innocent.

“you dare beg for his life to be spared? I have given you a order, so do it.” your father snarled. not many times were you under his accusative tone. you could hear his voice echoing through the throne room along with a slam of his hand.

“i have done everything you asked of me,” you sounded so small in defeat, “but I can not do this.”

just like that you were willing to risk everything you have built. a place at your fathers feet, above others. a place to live and thrive. and for what? the answer is when you looked at him there is nothing to defend, nothing but a open book waiting to be filled.

“you don’t have a choice,” he roared through the mirror and you could feel the vibration. “kill him, now.” he demanded as his nails scratched at the chair he seat mighty on.

“after years of faithful service, I obeyed every order and command, I live alone each day in a room filled with people. you may have made me for a weapon to use, to do your job for you but I will no longer be a slave.” for the first time you spoke back.

“one day he will die, but not by my hands.” taking the watch on your hand and slipping it off of you, then letting it fall to the ground. the last thing you see is your father shouting at you, his face grim and frustrated. stomping your foot on the floor you break the glass, the item becomes useless.

glancing over to the babe who looked peaceful and wrapped up in a tight blanket. it’s been forever since you were this close to a baby. as a little girl you wished for a family of your own, only you had a life of a demigod.

but looking at him made you sick to your stomach. a pit of anger for the boy who had cost you everything. the world was his to explore.

you were left with no home, no family to go to. and you had broken a oath. you swore yourself to never fail a quest or go against his wishes but you had, for a son of poseidon?— world must have been coming to a end.

you tried to hate him, you really did. but there was no one left to fight for. the decision was yours to make, his life was worth more then yours could ever be. you left quickly after that, afraid you had been to loud.

and one day, you’ll meet the boy he became.

Taglist: @itzmeme @ravenmedows @maria699669 @purplerose291

#Percy Jackson x reader #platonic percy jackson #platonic percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #oc character #angst #slight comfort #warnings

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oddinary4bts · 8 months

Text

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead. You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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shapard · 2 months

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Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

I wrote this late at night so not proof read yet.

It's going down~

little Angst, Violence, major death

True Story

Chapter 9 > Chapter 10 < Epilogue

Shock and being scared was an understatement of feelings that Lucifer, Charlie and the others are facing right now. The others follow Lucifer like a lost puppy, as they walked through the halls of the horror Playhouse.

Lucifer remembered every angle of this place. This is where he began creating things for heaven and then for Lilith.

Or rather it was.

His eyes were set on the horrible victims of Michael. The Mangled Angels that looked like the worst demon.

Worser than any of the demon he saw in hell. Probably even worser than Rue.

At some point they were standing in front of an empty cell that was stained with golden blood and your aura.

Beside the cell there was none other than Leonardo looking right at the group.

He was already expecting them.

“Long time no see, Lucifer.”

….

You walked with your bare foot on the golden floor, beside you stood Michael, Azrael, and Gabriel.

They were guarding you up the stairs. Watching you like hawks do with their prey with those glowing dangerous eyes.

You’re going to meet him, the famous God almost everyone is worshipping.

The one you served such a long time.

The one who let you down so easily.

The God that you were sure despites you with his very being.

Maybe it was wrong to think that way. But you couldn't shake off the feeling that something will happen.

Your hands were still chained up, but your feet were walking almost on Autopilot.

You wanted to stay in that cell and rot in there in peace, rather than facing someone who let you down easily.

“Y/n?” Your eyes widen at that voice, a warm feeling spread around your chest, and you felt like you wanted to cry. Nothing is more calming than a mother’s voice to its child.

And yet you didn’t look up nor give her nay response that you’ve heard her. After all you didn’t forgive her how she just let you fall and that it was her idea in the first place.

Michael told you everything.

Even though he can’t be trusted you couldn’t help but believe him. The bittersweet taste that allures you into his darkness was tempting.

You were tempted to fall into his madness. But the memories you and Lucifer shared were the only thing that destroyed you and kept you sane.

Gabriel glared at Sera, “why is she here? She isn’t supposed to be here.” He ushered towards Azrael who just shrugged him off.

Your hand clenched hard. You don’t want to see her. Not when she looks at you with these pitiful eyes, even though it is her fault all alone.

“What have you done to my daughter?” Sera looked in horror at the bruises on your wrist and body. The bruises around your wrist were almost deep purple, black almost.

The guilt in Sera was indescribable. It was eating her alive in these last few Months.

It was all her fault; it was a simple punishment that ended in torture.

“Not much.” Michael answered giving Sera a white rose. “Father wants to see you too.”

You wanted to disappear. The heavy load on your shoulder was too much to handle.

The hurt of the betrayal from Lucifer was too recent to forget and that your mother showed up is your worst luck.

The pain in your chest spread when you looked finally at you Mother. Feathers all scattered, it seemed she haven’t preened them in a while.

You miss your wings.

The walk ended in a huge sky land and pastel clouds were surrounding the area, the light was all centered in one direction where you could see a silhouette.

A soft tune played. A tune Lucifer used to hum to you when you dozed off on his lap.

The ghost feelings of his clawed fingers massaging your scalp, not hurting you in the process.

Unwilling tears fell from your eye socket. As much as you wanted to hide your weakened state, you couldn't.

After all that has happened you miss him.

You missed the Hotel, you missed hell. You missed the time with your friends Husk and Angel.

The soft tune that hummed in the area comforted you in a weird way and a soft way.

A voice called you into the light.

Don’t go into the light.

Your mind was screaming at you to run.

Danger.

Michael gestures for you to step forward. You wanted to move, but your feet don’t move. The anxiety was filling your lungs making it even harder to breath and stopped every body movement.

You forced your feet with all your strength just to stand in the light that was a few meters away from you.

“My, My. After all those months and years, I finally can speak to you in person.” You’ve never heard his voice before, but you just know its his.

His Voice echoed through the wind and in your body through Skull and bones.

The sound of Gods heels meeting the quartz ground was in an even rhythm. As the steps grew closer and closer you found yourself in a panic like state.

What will he do with you? Is he going to kill you or make you his puppet?

A warm but somehow cold finger pushed your chin up and you saw a tall figure with four eyes surrounding its silhouette.

He has almost the same hat as Lucifer and the same shit eating grin.

“Poor Child.”

Your eyes twitched; you don’t need any pity from anyone. Not from Leonardo. Not even from God himself.

“I don’t need any of your sympathy.” He only chuckled at your comeback, It interested him indeed.

Even after such a heartbreak you still fought back. “I was almost worried that my son may corrupted you. Michael is a lot to deal with, I must admit.” God lets go of your chin and you almost fell on your knees.

The sudden weakness surprised you. God snapped with his fingers and the chains broken loose.

“But I don’t appreciate this type of violence towards my daughter in law. Lucifer wouldn’t be happy to see you in this state darling. So, let’s get you patched up, hm?” This is off.

Why is he so nice?

Doesn’t he hate Lucifer?

Doesn’t he hate you?

God laughed at your cute little misunderstanding. “Oh, my dear I hate nobody. Not even towards Lucifer. I’m just disappointed that this all came so far. You got treated the wrong way because of my recklessly. That’s not how I planned you two to meet.” He sighs, “So answer me one question.” He turned towards you and lifted you up.

The bruises on your body slowly disappeared into your skin. And the pain faded with it.

“What do you desire?”

…

“How do you know we were coming Leonardo?” Lucifer looked with his scarlet eyes into Leonardo’s golden ones.

“Who wouldn’t save their soulmate. I would, even if it means that I’ll get cast away from heaven. I knew you’d come” Leonardo took few steps forward, but Lucifer stayed on his grounds.

“Tell me Lucifer, what would you do for her?” Lucifer growled.

He’d do anything for you.

He wants your back; he needs your back.

Leonardo lunged at Lucifer with his spear landing a cut above his eyebrow.

“Fuck.” Lucifer cursed as he tried to find a place for the others to hide.

There's no escape.

“Charlie! Find Y/n while I fight him off!”

…

You wanted so much and as soon as these words left none other than God, you found yourself empty headed. “What I desire?” God hummed and looked down at his cane. “Is it money? Or is it something that hides deep inside you dear. I’ll give it to you but choose wise.” Well, that isn’t helping.

God laughed at your thoughts, sometimes you forget that he could read your thoughts easily. “Let me help you dear.” God stepped forward and folded his hands on your eyes.

A low glow made you almost slum into a deep sleep.

But before you could fall into this feeling a loud crash followed and God sighed in frustration. Having children is a bliss but also a stick in the ass.

Lucifer and Leonardo fought in the air and crashed together in front of Michael who seemed to be amused by the fight.

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted your name and you turned towards her. “Charlie?!” A happy smile spread on your lips. A little shine of hope burst your heart. “Charlie!”

You ran towards her and threw your arms around her, and Charlie happily hugged you back. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” She said as she squeezed you tightly. “We all were so worried about you!” Angel hugged you from behind, “yeah, the short king almost lost his mind!” you giggled at Angels nickname for Lucifer.

You were so drowned in your own misery that you’ve forgotten how much you love the others. You always were head stuck on Lucifer that you forgot your drink buddies.

You break the hug and swipe the tears that escaped your attempt to hid them.

You watched as Lucifer fought his three brothers. Azrael swung his scythe around his waist to get a better hit on him. The gold blood splattered on the quartz floor, and you hissed at the injured Lucifer who had a huge gash on his chest.

“I wish I had daughters than sons…” God sighed as he looked at the mess they caused. Gods smile never left his face though.

Leonardo kicked Azrael away with the end of his spear making him land with full force on the quartz floor, ouch. Azrael laid unmoving there and groaned at the back pain. “I’m out.” He said before collapsing on the floor.

“Why did Leonardo defend dad?” Charlie asked pointing towards Leonardo who stood before Lucifer. “He was always on his side. He just wanted to check if he’s willing to die for Y/n.” God answered and held Azrael under his arm.

“Now let me take care of this mess.” God let Azrael go and he fell on his stomach. “Really?!” Azrael huffed in anger.

God levitates down to his sons and they immediate stopped. “As much as I like the reunion, you’re destroying the peace me and Lucifers mate had.” This hurt Michael deep. No not again.

“Really father? You’re defending Lucifer and his soulmate?” Michael gritted his teeth as anger build up in him. After all he has done for his father Lucifer always gets preferred.

But not with him.

Michael took the opportunity and flew towards you. You stepped in front of your friends protectively, no one will hurt them.

Just by your dead body.

His sword went smoothly through your ribcage right between your heart. Charlie screamed and shouted your name as the sword was in her view.

The sword went right through you.

Quite a disturbing beautiful sight. A fallen Seraphim protecting sinners as she gets killed by an Arch Angel.

Lucifer looked in horror and his heart felt like tearing apart.

He wanted to hold you close but his wings felt like bricks on his back. Every time he tried to fly up to you, he fell lower and lower. And when Michael’s laugh hollowed in Lucifers ears he started to feel immense Anger and rage.

More than he did last time he fought Michael.

A monstress growl escaped his sharpened teeth as the fire between his horns grew bigger and more violent. Lucifer felt no empathy as he smashed Michael’s skull to pieces.

It was the least he could do for you. You were hurt, in despair and he couldn’t help you through it.

And now Michael took again what was most precious to him.

You.

You slumped on to the ground as Michael hold on you stopped and Husk was quick to hold you in his arms.

“Don’t die on me kiddo.” Husk voice broke, the sadness couldn’t hide the truth.

You’ll die. And nothing can change it.

Husk pressed plunged the sword out of your chest and replaced it with his hands.

His power as an overlord was gone, but Lucifer could heal the damage, right?

The hard breathing broke his heart as he watches you taking his hands softly. “Husky. Promise me-“ you coughed, and blood splattered onto his fur, but Husk didn’t cared.

“Stop talking, you’ll only use your left power.” Husk pressed deeper onto the wound, but the blood still gushed out at the tiniest hole. You shook your head softly, you’ll die.

This is your dead end.

A tear escaped with a few whines, “Promise me to take care of them. Please husk.” Tears met your forehead as you said those words to him.

Husk cries.

He actually cries.

“Don’t say that. You’ll live!” You squeezed his hand as he screamed, one last time and muttered a soft I love you to them all besides Lucifer.

He wasn’t here with you as your life slowly crept away from your body.

The dull vessel of your soul just dropped into Husks arms and Husk hugged you close.

Charlie was a mess. Her crying filled the battlefield and Angel dust was having a complete meltdown.

Lucifer stopped his Tantrum as he heard Charlies desperate and hurt cries. His body reacted on its own fast and flew towards her and you.

He fell couple times but tried neither less to get to you two.

Lucifer landed painful on the harsh surface, but he didn’t care.

He crawled up to your corpse and took it away from Husk as Lucifer hugged you close to him.

Your usually warm body was now cold, and those live filled eyes were dull and soulless like the void that crept back to him. Before his mind could even collect words, he apologized to you in a mantra.

He was sorry.

He wasn’t there when Michael did that to you and Lucifer wasn’t there when you shifted to the dead.

Forgive him.

“Forgive me Apple Pie.”

…

The soft tune played into your mind, painting a picture in it. Flashbacks of your life appeared till you stand in that familiar space with the table and mist. Across the table sat Lucifer but in a light blue and golden appearance.

“Lucifer?” You asked out, your hand twitched. You wanted to feel the golden hair one last time.

But he was with Lilith, not with you. The bitter truth you avoided, and it hurts you much deeper every time you remembered it.

Please stop.

”Y/n?” The way he called out your name and the soften voice that allures you back into the warmth.

Hot tears burned their way down to the cold stone table.

What is he doing here? You’re dead right?

Yes, you miss him very dearly but the betrayal was to recent to just forget it.

“Just wait for me.”

You looked at Lucifer, cold. A sting on Lucifers heart but it wasn’t really him. It’s an Image from you and God. And your desire to see him again.

To hear him at least out, maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe Azrael showed you just mere lies.

“Even though I am not the Lucifer you desire,” he took your hand softly into his pearly white one, “I can tell that your Lucifer loves you dearly and wouldn’t do that to you.” He smiled up to you and stroked the hot tears from your face.

“But I am dead Luci, and you- He wasn’t even there with me.” And the fake Lucifer gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“I’m sure he wanted to. Still a fucking idiot but he was fighting Michael off of you, right? That’s a start.” He chuckled and you huffed.

The doubts and insecurities were another trap you chose to fall in. Maybe he wanted you dead so he can have Lilith.

“But Lilith is-“ He interrupted you with a soft squeeze on your hand and cheek, “Don’t continue that. Yes, he loved Lilith. But he loves you more. Even though I am just a copy of Lucifer from yours and Gods memories. I love you more than anything. Listen to him not to his bitter twin. Hear it from him and if you’re correct you can be mad all you want.” He let you go and gave you a last smile.

What does he mean?

You’re dead, no refund.

Gone.

“Our time Is up. Choose wise apple pie.” The world around you fade away, “What is your true desire?” you stretched your hands out for Lucifer.

you want to go back to him.

“I want to go back to him. Please.”

The soft tune hummed in your head as light surrounded you. As the light slowly creeped away you felt tears on your neck.

Your eyes flutter open, and you saw Lucifer face buried into your neck. He hugged you tightly, the thought of dying again because of Lucifer hard grip wasn’t one you were burning for.

“Lucifer?” You called out his name and he quickly retreated from his favorite place, and he watched perplexed at you.

“Y/n?” He called out, “Is that really you?” He sounds so broken. You nodded and answered with a short yes. Lucifer held your hand in his left hand and pressed you onto his lips so soft and hard.

His lips danced around your as sparks flew across your body making you feel butterflies all over your stomach. He kissed like it was his last meal. After seconds of intimate making out, he broke the kiss.

“Don’t leave me again.”

A/n: Feather of Fate is now Over! (There is an epilogue coming!") Hope you enjoyed the short story.

There will be more! But first I want to concentrate on Scenarios and One Shot, till I feel ready to post another story with our Short King. ❤️

Love y'all Pookies❤️

Special Thank you to @ayanazoldyck, @marydragneell and @avadakadabra93 ❤️

💫

Sadly couldn't Tag you.

And of course thank you all Pookies❤️❤️❤️✨

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows @0puddleofgender0 @fallenh34art @v3r41ynn @froggybich @pank0w @roboticsuccubus83 @littlebear423 @anonymously-ominous @concentratedconcrete

And thank you to my silent readers

Why do I write like this my last day here💀✋🏽

#shapard #hazbin hotel #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel charlie #angst #feather of fate

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apompkwrites · 1 year

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the protected draconia || malleus draconia

masterlist characters: n/a genre: angst(?)-ish (honestly sorta neutral) contains: lilia pov lilia pov lilia pov, blood/injuries, my own personal idea of how malleus' grandmother is?, ooc lilia probably I'm sorry D: summary: lilia knows more than he lets on. but what he didn't expect, in all of his time in briar valley, was to see a member of the royal family on the ground in a cave, wingless and hornless. notes: mm gotta get the story rolling somehow :D parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

lilia, for as long as he had served the draconia family, was well aware of the turmoil that befell the name after a mysterious man created a "bastard" child. the man was an enigma, an unknown parasite that came and went like the wind.

it was surreal for lilia, having been close to the general before his untimely passing that occurred after his family nearly fell apart. not only that, it was now his job to take over the position following the funeral.

and as time marched forward, so too did lilia. he found himself becoming a general and a father all in a span of a couple years. and although he loved his jobs, he couldn't help but think.

he would catch glimpses of them in the halls now and then. they often clung to miss leah as if she were their real mother. it was endearing, to say the least. and when lilia finally found the time, he had confronted the fae.

"i see you're taking care of the little dragon, now."

"ah, general lilia...!"

"no need for formalities. i was simply... here to ask for your opinion."

"opinion...? for what?"

"what is the best way to handle a cracked horn?"

it was as if the two were newly single parents that had no clue on how to raise their kids, which, in all honesty, wasn't far from the truth. with that single question, the two had forged a bond, a parental bond with the two members of the draconia family.

so when miss leah came rushing over, crying out that the little dragon had gone missing, lilia felt his heart drop to his stomach as if his own children had gone missing.

"lilia! lilia!" leah cried out as she barged into his chambers, tears falling down her face and her usually stoic and composed demeanor left behind somewhere.

"leah!" lilia gasped as she entered. "what is it?"

"it's (name)!" she panted as she struggled to catch her breath. "they... they were supposed to come back this afternoon, but when i went to retrieve them, the advisors told me they hadn't come back from their test!"

lilia grimaced at the sound of the advisors. he knew exactly which ones she was talking about and how cruel those supposed "good" fairies were.

"and what was that test the little dragon was sent on?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"they... they were sent into the forest! but they won't tell me what exactly happened!" leah panics, collapsing to the ground in front of lilia in a bow. "I beg of you, general lilia, please find them!"

lilia didn't have to think twice about the request. despite not formally meeting the younger draconia, he had a duty, an obligation, to keep them safe, both as the general of briar valley and the protector of their older brother, malleus.

the forest was dense and quiet, save for a few rustling of trees and bushes. despite the dense foliage, it didn't take him long to find a trace of the smaller draconia, or rather, whatever had taken them.

lilia had stumbled upon a trail, most likely one belonging to a beast of the briar. he had seen a fair share of them in his time out in the thorns but this one... this one was different.

from the prints alone, it seemed almost forced. it wasn't a natural trail one would see from a beast.

lilia was quick to follow the trail, finding himself weaving through thorn bushes and trees until he reached a small cave hidden amongst the flora. and what he saw there was beyond the horrors he had seen on the battlefield.

curled up on the ground, bound by thorned vines that cut and punctured their skin, was the so-called bastard draconia. and, other than the blood coming from their tied arms, was the blood dripping from their back and head.

"oh, you poor thing..." lilia could only coo, delicately cutting the thorned vines off of their arms and scooping them up. when he saw how crudely their horns and wings were ripped from the body, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what fate had fallen upon the child in his arms.

"your highness." lilia greeted as he kneeled in front of the queen. just a formality, he always reminded himself. nothing but a formality.

"lilia... what is the meaning of this...?" the queen uttered, staring down at the body presented to her with wide, fearful eyes. "this..."

"yes. the child of your daughter and that... man." lilia responded, his hands lightly pressed against the child's back to stay the bleeding. "i am... aware of your decision to keep them within the palace walls, but... my main concern now, and miss leah's main concern, is the treatment of this child."

"...tell me more." she commanded as she stood up from the throne, slowly walking down the steps until she reached lilia and (name). "...despite their diluted blood, this is still my grandchild. what has happened to them?"

"i asked miss leah here to explain to you in detail. she has more experience in this than i." lilia explained, motioning for leah to step forward. she did, albeit with a bit more nervousness than lilia.

"your... your majesty..." leah bowed to the queen. "the child you have placed in my care is a bright one. however, many of the servants who have lived with them seem to only see them as the child of an affair and blame them wrongfully for their very existence."

the queen's demeanor seemed to change at that instant. her once caring and soft eyes directed at the unconscious child turned cold, almost rivaling that of the thorn fairy herself.

"miss leah... you mean to tell me that my own servants have been mistreating my grandchild?" she hissed under her breath.

"y-yes, your highness..."

"and, if i may," lilia chimes in, slightly lifting one hand. his palm was coated in blood. "it seems that your most trusted advisors have caused these injuries on the young child."

"they... what?" the queen growled, her expression growing darker.

"not directly or of their own hand, but by order." lilia clarified. "i have reason to believe that these injuries were caused by--"

"a fae in white, yes, it is quite obvious." the queen quickly interjected.

"...and so, your advisors seem to have ordered your grandchild to hunt down a beast in the briar, leading to them getting caught and abused by a fae in white." lilia concluded.

silence filled the throne room. the queen took a deep breath, clutching her scepter tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white. she took another deep breath, her eyes shut.

"...i will deal with these unruly servants by my own hand." she decreed, slowly opening her eyes. they drifted down to (name), who was still shivering on the floor. "...have them tended to. i shall atone for my part in their suffering in the only way i can right now."

"and that would be...?"

"...lilia. leah. please raise my grandchild the way they should have. as a member of the draconia family."

it was a surprising awakening. opening your eyes, not to the cold floor of the cave, but to the pristine ceiling of... somewhere?

you weren't entirely sure where you were. and nor were you aware of who these people were standing above you.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @hu-tqao @reallytired5 @akitsuki13 @queenaveryrules @dia-disappointment @oxzamzu

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holybibly · 6 months

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Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss.

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

3rd POV

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way.

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?” San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred. And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute. She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being. She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt.

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room; to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

“Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang. Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

“Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen.

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm. “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

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wedonthaveawhile · 8 days

Text

Betraying the devil you know // Part I

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Months. That's how long Marvolo Gaunt has been crushing the life out of you. One reckless decision was all it took to be dragged into his inner circle to pay for your sins. However, being his favourite informant has its perks—you hear whispers: a civil war is brewing among the Gaunt's.

Is it better the devil you know, or do you seek refuge in the arms of the enemy?

Read the prologue here.

For twenty-eight years, whispers of slander had perpetually preceded the name Ominis Gaunt.

The Daily Prophet had initially reported on the birth of the Gaunt's second son, however, the family had firmly abstained from providing any photographic proof. While they carried on parading their firstborn in the public eye, their second child seemed forever confined within the heavily guarded perimeter of their estate.

The less reputable newspapers fanned the flames of speculation, dubbing him a disfigured, mutated horror—The Broken Gaunt.

Needless to say, the glowering figure at the opposing end of the blinking wand had no deformed limbs or vampiric fangs protruding from his lips. Pale skin stretched taut over his razor-sharp, and undeniably human, features. He was taller than his brother, with a thinner frame but no less imposing.

The only departure from humanity were his eyes, which bore into her as he awaited an answer to his question.

You let us abduct you, didn't you?

"Yes," her admission came hesitantly, as if the inflection of that lone word could reveal every sin she had witnessed, and every one she had committed—her only leverage.

She could see walls of tightly stacked slate wedged between gnarled beams within the musty gloom. That and the smell indicated they were somewhere underground; the air was stagnant, poisoned with an acrid undercurrent of dark magic and scourgify charms. The combination made her stomach roil. Blood; it always meant blood.

"You don't appear overly concerned, which means my brother intended for me to find you, or you deliberately sought me out." The wizard's robes billowed as he swept closer, a glint of emerald trim contrasting against the dark fabric. "Which is it?"

"The latter."

A final crimson glow flared from his wand before he lowered it to his side, "I trust you understand the gravity of my concern. When Marvolo's lackey is found roaming alone, I..."

She thrust forward in her chair, shoulders wailing in pain from the unnatural posture they were contorted into. "I'm not... that," she bristled.

"Then what?" he retorted sharply, leather gloves creaking as his grip tensed around the notched hawthorn. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"I'm no one; I was forced into this."

"His stories say otherwise."

"He lies."

"I'm well aware."

Her captor fell silent as he paced, grit skittering off the ground with each measured step. She expected his shoes to be abraded and sullied with flecks of blood as Marvolo's often were, but they were immaculate—the polished leather glinting under flickering torchlight.

He came to a halt in front of her, and she shifted uncomfortably with nowhere to go.

"An informant stationed at the Leaky Cauldron is not no one," he said, holstering his wand. "The tales you could tell would be most intriguing, I'm sure."

"That's one way to put it," she craned her neck to better survey the desolate crypt, hunting for any sign of Marvolo's silhouette in the shadows of an alcove. If a year of serving under him had given her anything, it was a crippling sense of paranoia. "I need your help."

"Is that so?" He drawled, brushing off a spider scurrying up his wrist—the epitome of indifference.

"I know you've been following me, and I know what it is you're looking for," she said with a harder edge than she felt. "I'm prepared to offer it willingly in exchange for my protection."

"Protection from...?"

"From him. He warned us about you, said you've been search for a crack in his organisation, and what he'd do if any of us were caught..." She could feel the heat of Marvolo's breath hissing into her ear, his fingers constricting around her throat. She forced her voice to remain steady. "I'm your way in; I'll tell you everything I know for… I don't know, fuck… a safe house?"

One of the wizards stationed by the barricaded door let out a derisive snort, which was abruptly silenced by a piercing glare from his boss.

"I have veritaserum, and now I have you. Any reward you receive for the effort I've put in to obtain both would be nothing short of generosity."

"Are you generous?"

He found that amusing, smirking down at her briefly before snapping back to cold indifference. "How can you be certain I won't return you to him?"

"Because I know what he did to you."

A muscle twitched in his jaw—a fleeting tic, but she saw it.

"He shares a lot with you. He must trust you."

"Not at all; he just thinks it's impressive."

His ghostly eyes burned with distrust as he dragged a finger across his lips. "Then how did you fall into his circle?"

Her bravado dissipated as her humbled gaze fell to the floor, "I didn't know it was him…"

She flinched as a figure surfaced from the shadows to present a scrap of parchment before skulking back into the dark. Ominis Gaunt bit down on the tip of his glove, stripping it off before curling his fingers and gliding one over the embossed text.

A scoff broke free from her throat before she could rein it in—all those rumours swirling around him for years... His family's efforts to shield him from society.… all because he was blind? How anticlimactic.

She clenched her lip between her teeth as those sightless eyes pinned her down.

"Keep talking."

"I… uh, I thought he was just another drunk customer passing through. He was showing off some gold ornament, bragging about the risks he took to get it..." She paused to swallow her embarrassment. "My friend and I... we needed money."

"You stole from Marvolo Gaunt," he lifted his head with a scornful sneer of disparagement. "What did you take?"

"A relic," she replied dryly, taking pleasure in how her words wiped the arrogant smirk off his face. "The relic he murdered your friends for."

The weight of his rage was palpable, his fingers twitching as he wrung the note clenched between them until the tearing grain finally broke him from his deliberation.

He gave a terse nod to the wizards on either side of the bolted door.

"Leave."

When the slam of oak against the stone lintel subsided, the room sank into a heavy silence. His body was still as marble, save for the methodical dart of his calculating eyes.

"I can't live like this," she pleaded. "I'm worth your time; I've been listening for months, soaking it all in just for the chance to share it with you. And when he shows himself to take me back, you could—"

His posture straightened with a renewed interest in what she had to offer. "You can lure him out of hiding?"

"He'll come for me," she said firmly, and she meant it. "You and I have a common interest, and I want us to work together to make it happen."

"That shared interest being my brother, dead."

The abruptness of the question clouded her thoughts in suspicion.

Was this a trap?

What if the Gaunt brothers were working together? What if the rumours of their feud were some bullshit story to—

"It's not a trick question," his silken voice sliced through the tangled ivy of her thoughts. "Is that what you want?"

If this plan went up in flames, she was as good as dead anyway, by her own hand or Marvolo's if he beat her to it. There was nothing left to lose.

"Yes."

He stalked around her, icy fingers closing tightly around her arm.

"Don't fucking touch me," she spat, wrenching away in a panic.

Such defiance would have earned her a backhand from his brother, but there was something distinctly less psychotic about this Gaunt than the one she had escaped.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have you dragged back to where my men found you and let my brother finish the job." He sought out the rope and murmured an incantation to untangle her from its grip. "My hands are, and will always remain, clean. Don't delude yourself into believing you're worth tarnishing them."

Her arms spasmed as they hung limp and utterly useless at her sides; she was at a loss for what to do with them. "Thank you."

"Is everything you've told me the truth?"

"It is."

He withdrew a galleon from his pocket and altered its form into a chair, which he positioned in front of her and took a seat. She braced herself against the stiff wooden back of her own as she rotated her raw, chafed wrists.

"I want you to understand that I hate resorting to these measures, but it's necessary for corroborating your story."

"What measures?"

"Look at me, please."

Before she could process the implication of his request, connect the dots and realise the power he held, her eyes instinctively met his. He exploited the connection to slam his way into her mind.

His mental intrusion sliced through her memories like a sharpened blade through flesh, flaying each one until they lay exposed before him, ripe for his scrutiny.

He pulverised her every attempt to occlude and expel him from her thoughts, smothering her internal cries until it was near silence in the wreckage of her consciousness.

The psychological interrogation began with that night—she could hear her inner dialogue and see her life unfolding like a twisted theatre.

She was watching from the bar as the polyjuiced patron brandished his treasure, laughing uproariously as he recounted the price he paid to claim it. The Leaky Cauldron hosted a constant rotation of travellers; it wouldn't be the first time that something pretty found its way into her bag.

Suddenly, she was in the candlelit hallway of her flat, sliding off her shoes beside Poppy's and padding across the chipped floorboards to the kitchen.

She couldn't shut her eyes, couldn't turn away from the memory projecting onto the dark canvas of her closed eyelids.

Marvolo had followed her home; he had Poppy.

Please, stop.

Ominis' legilimency snuffed out her begging.

For the second time in her life, a Gaunt forced her to watch as the radiant light faded from Poppy's eyes. Scarlet spilled from her lacerated throat as the diffindo tore apart her efforts to scream run —the kitchen knife she wielded as her last line of defence lodged between her ribs.

Get the fuck out of my head.

She felt the mental pull to collapse, but her mind was a marionette, strings pulled taut to forcibly suspend it upright against her body's every instinct. It was excruciating; the occasions she had angered Marvolo enough to warrant a taste of the Cruciatus Curse were the only experiences that came close.

Ominis glanced over the tasks she had been compelled to carry out—ranging from thefts of the ministry's highest-ranking officials, to luring naïve wizards into an ambush, to the deliveries of forbidden artefacts...

He then flitted to what he needed to confirm her worth—Marvolo's threats, sifting through the warnings as if her mind were a catalogued library.

No one will ever touch your skin again; every inch of you belongs to me.

If you ever try to run, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth to raze you from it myself.

I'll rip out the throat of anyone who dares lay a hand on what is mine.

Satisfied, he finally wrenched free from her mind, nearly causing her to black out.

Words stumbled across her tongue, just beyond the reach of her unresponsive mind.

"Don't…" send me back.

She reeled forward and felt fingers dig into her shoulder to stop her from slipping to the ground, followed by a rush of displaced air as Ominis Gaunt disapparated them both.

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

Text

{9} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 9,094

Warnings: Whore Knee Thots, another lotr reference, I don’t think this one is too bad for things. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I forgot to add that a certain line of dialogue Yunho says in this chapter is cutesy of @synthetickitsune so thank you!!! And so part two becomes two of three lmaoo, I honestly did not expect this one chapter to get split into three, but with what I still have planned, it would have ended up like, 30k words by the end of it lmaoo. Hope you all enjoy, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Mini Masterlist

It only takes a moment for them to all catch up with you as you ride the escalator back down to the first floor. The only downside seems to be that you’ve closed off your mind from them again, your void almost perfectly back in place.

With difficulty, they all attempt to control their breathing for the time being; each male desperately tries to ground themselves, doing their best to keep their entire bodies from shaking as pure need courses through their veins. They didn’t think that they could fall anymore in love with you than they already are, but then you went and did this.

Anyone else have the desire to completely fucking ravish her until she passes out from pleasure right now? San’s gaze is locked onto your back as he licks his lips shamelessly, eyes dark and full of need.

That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Mingi swallows the sudden dryness in his throat, gaze roaming freely over your figure as you head towards the cash line with them in tow.

Did you see the way her personality just flipped in an instant? Wooyoung is nearly panting at this point, barely keeping it together as he stares at your ass.

I didn’t know she had it in her. Yunho replies, somewhat breathlessly.

Pride swirls in his chest, reflected in his gaze as he recalls every detail of your instructions. He only hopes that they were able to impress you with how well they served you just now. Based off of the lingering thoughts he could hear echoing in your mind before you closed your void, he knows that that is most certainly the case. The fact that you seem grateful towards them, too, is simply icing on the cake.

Could she get anymore fucking perfect for us? Seonghwa bites his lip, needing to suppress the moan that shamelessly builds in his chest as he thinks back on the events that have just occurred. He can still feel his shoulder tingling from where you touched him earlier, too.

She has to know how this affects us, right? Jongho shoots them all a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes, seeing as he’s still standing next to you for the moment. The way you seemingly lean into him for support has a pleased growl building in his chest. What it means to us?

I’d be more than happy to show her. San’s lips part, taking some long, and what are supposed to be calming, breaths. Instead, it only makes his desire for you grow, becoming surrounded by everything you as his senses are overwhelmed. He swears he can practically taste you already on his tongue.

This day is turning out much better than I could have ever imagined. Yeosang admits, eyes roaming the side of your profile before taking a step closer and joining in on your conversation with Jongho in the next second.

I don’t think any of us could have imagined these pleasant turn of events. Hongjoong finally speaks, managing to calm himself down just enough to get his thoughts in order once more.

Ever since he saw you turn around upstairs after you had finished your little condemnation of that bastard, he couldn’t help but be consumed by his fantasies once more. All Hongjoong could picture was the two of you standing side by side, vanquishing your enemies together, followed immediately by the most passionate love making of his entire life as you bathe in the blood of your victims. He nearly had to adjust himself there for a minute, until he managed to calm himself down enough on the small journey back to the first floor.

At least all of them can agree: you will become theirs soon. Officially. In every meaning of the word. You just have to. They’ll make sure of it, for they don’t know how much more of this that they can take. You drive them so crazy, and you don’t even realize it yet. Or maybe, you do.

Though, they still would never force you into anything you were truly uncomfortable with. They just want you, and bad. To rule at their side. To love and to cherish. To have and to hold. To protect and to keep forever as theirs, just as they are yours. Until the end of time.

Finally, it’s your turn to be cashed out at the front of the line after a few more minutes of waiting. Making your way over to the register, you begin to pull out your wallet.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang’s voice catches your attention as he walks up with both you and Jongho.

“Paying for my books.” You reply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“My Dear, I thought we already told you,” Yeosang smiles softly at you as he places a hand overtop of yours to prevent you from pulling out your wallet any further. In the next moment, he begins leading you out of the store. “Just let us take care of you.”

You blink, protests dying in your throat as you look back to see Jongho already holding a bag full of what you’re sure are your books. A second later, and they’re both ushering you out of the store to wait in the hallway for the others. As soon as they’re all in front of you once more, you’re crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“You know I don’t expect you all to pay for everything for me, right?” You shoot them all an expectant look.

“We know,” Hongjoong smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“It’s different if we want to do so.” Yunho says, somewhat matter-of-factly.

“We’ve already told you,” San gazes at you with a fond look shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about a single thing when you’re with us.”

“We are all more than ready and willing to provide for you in any and every way we can.” Jongho adds, eyes soft as he meets your own.

“Whatever you want,” it’s Mingi that draws your attention to him next, his eyes crinkling as he smiles widely at you.

“Whenever you need it,” Seonghwa breathes out, and only the eight of them truly understand the double meaning behind his words.

“Seeing you happy is all that we really want.” Wooyoung’s voice is gentle as the corner of his lips tug upwards in a grin.

“Just let us take care of you.” Yeosang repeats his words from only moments before, his hand settling on top of yours once more.

“Fine.” You let out a long exhale through your nose, lips tugging slightly downwards in defeat. “But I’m buying you all drinks later, or something.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Um, no.” You raise your hand, stopping the rest of the protest that begins to fall from Mingi’s lips.

“We don’t expect-“

“Ah-ah.” You wag your finger at Wooyoung next. “None of this ‘we can treat you, but you can’t treat us’ crap.”

“But-“

“No ‘but’s!” You round on San, quirking your eyebrow as you look between all of them. “Just let me treat my men to something, okay?”

They all blink, caught momentarily off guard by your admission. Pleased growls build in their chests as your words sink in, Though, from the way you continue, it’s as if you haven’t even noticed you’ve said them, or the affect you’ve just had on all of them.

“If it’s not mutual, I don’t want it.” You shake your head slightly, as if to emphasize your point, turning around in the next moment to begin walking down the hall. At seeing them still standing exactly where you left them after taking a few steps, you’re turning to look at them from over your shoulder with a quirked brow, “coming?”

In an instant, both San and Wooyoung are on either side of you, that single word enough to snap them all out of their daze. The others fall in line shortly after, following close behind as you lead them around the mall.

Just as you walk past your local game store, a product in the window draws your gaze.

“No fucking way,” your jaw drops, blinking in mild shock as you pause in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” It’s Yeosang who follows your gaze immediately, a furrow to his brow at what could have possibly drawn your attention like this.

There, in the front window of the store, sits a giant Snorlax beanbag chair. Though, from how it’s stuffed into the display, he looks a little squished in your opinion.

“Free him,” you chuckle, already making your way over to the storefront to see how much he costs. At the price you see glaring back at you, your eyes widen, “never mind.”

Immediately, San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all begin to make their way towards the entrance. The only thought on each of their minds is buying that Snorlax for you, arguing with each other over who gets to pay. That is, until you’re stepping in front of them, successfully blocking their path to the store.

“No.” You shake your head.

“What did we just tell you?” San quirks a brow, crossing his arms in front of his chest expectantly.

“I don’t care.” You shake your head once more. “It’s not a need, or a necessity.”

“Yet, books are?” Yunho quirks a brow at you this time, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“Books are different,” you begin, noticing Wooyoung attempting to step around you only for you to match each of his movements. For a third time, you shake your head. “I’m putting my foot down for this.”

“If you truly don’t want us to, then we won’t.” Hongjoong says, shooting a stern look at the younger demons who look back at him with pouts on their faces. We can buy stuff for her later, when she can’t complain about it. Or stop us for that matter.

“Thank you.” You tilt your head in acknowledgement in his direction, a soft smile adorning your features.

Hongjoong smiles back, following your lead once more as you continue on down the hallway.

I’m coming back for that later. Yeosang immediately projects, quite sternly, into his brother’s minds. All of you find something else to buy for her.

Fine. Wooyoung replies, a bit grumpily. I’m sure there will be plenty more where that came from, anyways.

Exactly. Hongjoong hums, noticing how you enter a store full of soaps, candles, and fragrances, amongst other products, next. I simply believe she isn’t used to being gifted the things she wants, especially when we don’t expect anything in return but her own happiness.

I still wish she’d let us treat her, though. Seonghwa grumbles, walking over to the display of colognes off to the side. Without pushback.

She will, Hongjoong replies, testing out a moisturizer on the back of his one hand. Eventually.

Yunho, keep an eye on her mind. Mingi adds, both him and San helping you decide on some candles as you continuously bring the different scents to your nose to test them.

Already on it. He grins, watching the scene fondly from the front of the store as Jongho and Yeosang stand beside him.

“Oh, I wonder if they have- they do!” Your eyes widen as excitement takes over your features.

In an instant, you’ve taken a few steps to your left, grabbing a specific candle off of the shelf and removing the lid. A smile tugs at your lips as your eyes flutter closed, a content hum escaping you as you take a deep breath in.

Each male cannot help the way their mouths suddenly go dry, that small sound of pleasure ringing through their ears just as it did last night.

“Mahogany teakwood,” you breathe, extending the candle out for both San and Mingi to smell. “My favourite scent.”

San leans in first to sniff it, smiling back at you in response as he straightens to his full height.

It’s musky. Mingi comments to all of them after his first whiff of the candle. Definitely something a male might wear.

Are there any colognes of the scent? San turns, spotting Seonghwa by the display.

Immediately, Seonghwa is scanning the labels, attempting to find the one he’s looking for before San can finish making his way over to where he is. Luckily for him, he spots the bottle a moment later, snatching it off of the display in an instant. It was the last one, too.

You bastard. San growls, noticing how the eldest grins smugly at him while waving the bottle in the younger’s face.

You snooze, you lose. Seonghwa repeats the youngest’s words from earlier in the day, beginning to move off to a different section of the store.

Relax, there’s also a body wash. Wooyoung comments, already pulling a bottle off of the shelf to check the label.

Immediately, it’s like a race between San and Seonghwa to make it over to where Wooyoung is standing. Each male practically shoves the other out of the way as they reach the shelf, arguing amongst themselves about who gets to use this particular scent as their own.

You can only blink from across the store in shock, an amused snort escaping you as you watch the chaos unfold before your very eyes.

“Are they always like this?” You lean into Mingi who has yet to leave your side.

He sighs, a small quirk to his lips upwards, “you’d be surprised.”

“Honestly, you’d think there’s a sale on toner or something, with how they booked it across the store.” You mumble, chuckling to yourself as you turn back towards the candles. “Oh, fresh pine!”

Taking another candle off of the shelf, you’re quick to open the lid. Again, a smile tugs at your features as you inhale the earthy scent deeply. Almost immediately, you’re extending it out to Mingi who leans in without another thought to smell the candle.

“Another one of my favourites,” you admit, tucking it into your arm beside your mahogany teakwood candle.

Yunho- Mingi glances at his brother from across the store.

Already on it. Yunho grins, heading over to the display to pull two bottles of cologne off of it. I’ll grab the body wash, too.

Mingi nods subtly in the other male’s direction, following you once more through the store as you go to check out the seasonal candles.

See if you can find out what other scents she likes. Jongho’s voice echoes through all of their heads, even if his comment is directed at Mingi for the moment.

Already on it. Mingi repeats Yunho’s words from mere moments before, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches your eyes light up.

“Fresh orchard? Don’t mind if I ‘yes’,” you reach for the candle shamelessly, eyes widening as the faint, crisp scent of apples reaches your nose. Your face light ups. "And the apples aren’t overpowering everything. Hell yes!”

Mingi cannot help but share in your excitement as you extend the candle out for him to smell. He has to agree, the scent of the apples isn’t overpowering the other aromas found within, giving rise for the subtle vanilla, cinnamon, and oak to come through.

Looking up, he catches gazes with Jongho who stands just outside of the store. An understanding passes between them, Mingi subtly nodding his head at the youngest in an instant.

Only, you turn your head just in time to notice him looking at something outside of the store. Following his gaze, that’s when you see both Yeosang and Jongho still standing in the hallway of the mall, the few bags from the bookstore held in their hands. Your brow furrows.

“Sometimes all of the scents overwhelm them and give them headaches,” Mingi informs you.

“I had no idea,” a small frown pulls at your features, lips tugging downwards as you continue to stare at the two males outside of the shop.

It’s then that you feel two subtle caresses brushing against your void, the water rippling beneath their touch. Tentatively, and probably against your better judgment, you’re opening your mind.

Little do you know of the way such a simple act warms their hearts.

Please, do not feel bad about this, Dearest. Yeosang’s voice is the first you hear resounding in your head. It is not your fault.

We are more than content to see you happy like this. Jongho adds as they both send you reassuring smiles.

You smile back softly, a subtle nod to your head before you’re closing off your void to them once more.

“I didn’t even know you guys could get headaches.” You say, turning back to Mingi beside you.

“It’s rare, but we can still suffer from the same ailments as you,” Hongjoong voices, walking up beside you with a few products in his hands. “Well, minus a few things, of course. Like cancer.”

“Huh,” you hum, nodding along with his words. “Interesting.”

“Granted, we can either let the ailment manifest, or heal ourselves immediately,” Hongjoong adds, watching as Mingi walks off to go grab some things of his own, including that fresh orchard scent for Jongho.

“It’s a little difficult to imagine you guys with something as trivial as a stomachache, if I’m being honest,” you reply, looking through the rest of the display before you.

“Yeah, that tends to only happen if we’ve ingested a really nasty soul,” Wooyoung pops up on your other side, reaching across to grab at a particular body lotion on display.

“Though, there are certain ailments that can affect us, but not you,” Hongjoong tells you, stepping out of the way as you go to move around him. “Others that affect us could potentially kill you if you ever caught them.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so assured,” you mumble, walking passed him for the moment.

“Don’t worry, Gorgeous, we’d take care of you,” Wooyoung grins, stepping in line beside you as you reach the back of the store. “We know all of the cures, anyways. If it ever came to that.”

“Not to mention we could just heal you if you got sick,” Hongjoong reminds you, the conversation he had with you about injuries in the garden flitting through his mind.

“Right,” you nod in acknowledgement, and he just knows you’re thinking back to that moment, too. “I remember you telling me that.”

“Or, we could just feed you our blood.” Wooyoung comments nonchalantly.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “excuse me?”

“It would be the fastest way to heal you,” Hongjoong says, shooting a pointed look towards Wooyoung for just dropping that little tidbit of information on you. “Quicker and more effective than our healing abilities, with some added side effects.”

“Side effects?” Your brow furrows.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” Hongjoong assures you with a small smile. “We would never let you get to a point where you would need to ingest our blood to heal yourself, anyways.”

“Good to know,” you huff out a small laugh, lips quirking upwards in slight disbelief at the conversation you’ve just had with them.

Hongjoong smiles back at you as the others all come to join you in the cash line, seeing as they’ve also finished looking around for the moment.

“Got everything you need?” Seonghwa asks, a soft smile painting his features as you nod back at him in response.

“They stopped carrying my other favourite scent a while ago,” you sigh, a slight pout to your lips. “So, this is good for now.”

“What one was that?” San is a little too eager in his inquiry.

“Sea island cotton.” You reply, somewhat wistfully. “It was really light and soothing.”

Hongjoong’s brow furrows, holding out one of the bottles of lotion in his hands, “you mean this?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you see the label facing you, your free hand coming up to snatch the bottle right out of his hand. Then, you meet his gaze. “Where did you find this?”

Hongjoong points over his shoulder at the back corner of the store, blinking at you in mild shock at the wide-eyed look you send him.

“I’ll be right back,” you immediately go to step out of line, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“I’ll grab it for you,” Seonghwa offers, not even giving you a chance to deny him as he steps out of line, already halfway to the display in the blink of an eye.

Hwa, can you- Yeosang doesn’t even get to finish his question before the eldest is replying.

I’ve got you covered. Reaching the display, Seonghwa grabs a few different bottles including a body mist, body lotion, and a few body washes before heading back over to the cash line.

As soon as you see the bottles in his hands, your eyes light up, and each male practically swoons at the sight. All save for Seonghwa, who instead feels his heart fluttering in his chest as you look at him like he’s just brought you the greatest gift you could ever ask for. He swallows thickly, attempting to keep his arms from shaking.

Yeah. They could all get used to this.

“Here, why don’t you give us your stuff and go wait outside with Yeosang and Jongho?” Yunho says, already reaching to take the few items that you’re holding from your hands.

Again, the protests you’re about to say die in your throat as Mingi grabs the final item from you. In the next moment, Wooyoung uses his free hand to begin turning you around gently, ushering you to take a step towards the entrance of the store.

“Fine,” you grumble, a slight pout tugging at your lips as you cross you arms in front of your chest, beginning to make your way out of the shop.

Both Yeosang and Jongho smile as soon as they see you, having gotten a glimpse of your excited expression only moments before curtesy of their brothers. They absolutely adore the fact that you choose to stand in-between them, too, even if you still have your arms crossed in discontent for the moment.

A few minutes later, the other six are all walking out of the store, bags held in their hands. You attempt to reach for some of them, only to be brushed off by each male holding a bag. Even when you complain that you can carry something, they assure you that it’s fine. They don’t want you worrying your pretty little head about anything today, or ever for that matter.

You pout once more, leading them further down the hall and towards the direction of the foodcourt for the time being. Still, you cannot help but mutter about those damn demons once more under your breath, causing smiles to pull at all of their faces.

“If you want to hold onto something that badly,” San begins, a mischievous glint in his eyes that his brothers know all too well, “hold on to this.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed your hand in his, interlocking your fingers together without a second thought. He can just feel the jealous glares of his brothers on his back as he watches your eyes widen, a momentary falter to your steps as he catches you off guard. At the way he cheekily smiles at you, you can only avert your gaze somewhat shyly in response, a heat rising to your cheeks.

The best part? You don’t pull away.

“I am curious, though,” you say after a little while, San beginning to swing your interlocked hands gently back and forth between you as he hears Wooyoung complaining to him about holding onto your hand in his head. “How exactly do you guys get the money for all of this stuff? It’s hard to imagine you all working any type of retail job.”

“Could you imagine us working at a grocery store?” Wooyoung laughs. “Seonghwa would bite someone’s head off within five minutes.”

You half expect the oldest to complain about what Wooyoung’s saying about him, but at the subtle nodding of Seonghwa’s head, you let out a snort of laughter.

Instantly, he’s turning to meet your gaze, a sheepish shrug gracing his shoulders as he grins back at you. “Guilty.”

“Jongho and Yeosang definitely wouldn’t have the patience to deal with difficult customers.” Yunho observes, receiving a loud ‘hey’ in protest from the youngest.

“San would be throwing out nearly all of the produce, complaining that it’s not fresh enough to be stocked on shelves,” Mingi joins in with a chuckle, a large smile painting his features.

“It’s true, though!” San retorts, an exasperated look pulling onto his features.

“Yes, yes, we all know about your two hour long rant on produce quality,” Yeosang practically rolls his eyes in response to the male’s reaction, eliciting another of the sweetest giggles from your lips.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong is drawing your attention to him as he speaks for the moment. “To answer your question, My Love, we acquire our wealth through many different means. The main ones being investing, and through real estate. We’ve been around for quite a long time, that we’ve learned a few tricks of the trade.”

“We are also the Kings of the Realm with the whole wealth of the underworld at out fingertips.” Jongho adds, nonchalantly.

The way you nod, clearly impressed, has pride filling their chests once more.

“That’s not to mention our other means of acquirement,” Wooyoung wiggles his brows at you suggestively.

“Never pictured you guys as strippers, but oddly enough, it’s very fitting.” You reply without a second thought, a store up ahead catching your attention.

Mingi nearly trips over his own feet as Wooyoung bursts out laughing, causing some heads of passers by to turn to look in your direction.

“We’re not-“ Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head at the younger demon with the skunk dyed hair. “We’re not strippers.”

“Ah,” your eyes go wide as you draw out the syllable, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Shame.”

“What Wooyoung meant to say, is that we sometimes acquire wealth through other, unfavourable means as well.” Hongjoong explains.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Elaborate.”

“Gambling, the black market, assassinations: you name it,” Yunho informs you, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Honestly,” you let out a sharp puff of air through your nose, “that doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.”

“Well, we are essentially demons.” Yeosang voices with a small shrug.

“Demonic entities,” you say, somewhat breathlessly, recalling the very first night when you learned of their true nature. “What does that even mean? Aren’t you guys essentially gods?”

San smirks, “you could say that.”

Then, as if recalling another one of your memories, you continue, “you all flinch whenever I say phrases referring to the catholic religion. Or at least, I think you do.”

“Force of habit,” Mingi replies honestly. “It’s difficult to not remember a time when people would use those phrases to curse our names.”

“Would it help if I told you that I don’t really believe in them, and I say those things more as a reactionary phrase just to say them over anything else?” You quirk a brow. Then, quickly, you add, “but I’ll never say them again if it hurts you.”

All of them are touched by your consideration for them right now, that they cannot help but fall even deeper for you in this moment. You all still may not be on the best of terms, but if today is anything to go by, you are both very receptive and accepting of them already. In the little time that they’ve actually been with you, they’ve been able to make tremendous progress. A fact which makes them beyond joyous in this moment here in time.

“It does indeed help.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, probably the most touched out of all of them by your sudden consideration. “Though, don’t feel as if you have to stop saying those phrases now. Especially if you do not actually believe in them.”

You nod, turning your attention back to the front as you continue to walk down the hallway.

“Then, what do you believe in?” Jongho asks the question on all of their minds, curiosity reflected in all of their eyes as they shift their focus back onto you.

You stare ahead, blinking a few times as you watch the shop that you want to check inside of get closer and closer. Then, the corner of your lips is twitching upwards as you decide to let your thoughts actually be vocalized for the moment. You figure that there’s no harm in letting them know.

“I believe in all of you.”

For the second time that day, tears line the corner of Mingi’s eyes. Both Yunho and Jongho cannot help the way that their breaths hitch in their throats, while both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have to place one of their hands over their beating hearts to keep them from bursting right out of their chests. Yeosang pauses momentarily mid-step as his eyes close, his hand coming up to cover the lower half of his face as he absolutely revels in your words.

A soft smile tugs onto Hongjoong’s features, nothing but absolute fondness and adoration shining in his gaze as he looks at you. His heart swells in his chest, his throat bobbing as he swallows all of the words he wants to say back to you in this moment, in order to simply bask in this glorious feeling.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San wiping at his cheek with the back of his free hand.

You blink, worry taking over your features immediately as you halt right in your tracks, conveniently right in front of the store you want to enter. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Of course not,” San squeezes your hand reassuringly, bringing it up to his lips to place a tender kiss onto your skin as he holds it there, revelling both in the feeling and meaning of this moment here in time with you.

“It just means a lot to us.” Yunho clears his throat, voice suddenly rough with the rawness of his emotions as he is overcome by the significance of your words. “What you’ve just said.”

“More than you’ll ever know.” Seonghwa smiles softly at you, his eyes shining with something that you don’t quite understand, but once it finally sinks in, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You take a moment to look around at the eight men surrounding you. You can see the adoration clear in their eyes, the fondness shining within causing your heart to race. No one has ever gazed at you so lovingly before. A fact of which causes your heart to then swell with an unfamiliar emotion, but a pleasant one, nonetheless.

For the first time in your life, you understand what it feels like to be someone’s first choice. You understand what it feels like to be wanted, to be desired by another person in a way that you are starting to desire them. You feel safe. You feel cared for. More than all of that, you feel comfortable in your own skin around them.

For the first time in your entire life, you understand what it feels like for someone to be in love with you. You, and only you.

A soft smile graces your features as you squeeze San’s hand back, looking between all of them once more as you all share in this tender moment together.

“I want to know more about you guys,” you say, watching as their features all light up in excitement. “But first, let me head in there to see an old friend,” you point to the jewellery store across from you as you gently drop San’s hand, much to his discontent, “and then we can all talk over drinks.”

Smiles pull at all of their lips, and you see a few of them nod their heads eagerly at your words.

“Sounds good,” Hongjoong meets your gaze, tone reflecting the happiness on his features.

“Great,” you smile, already heading towards the shop mere steps away.

The jewellery store is small in size, more of an antique shop than anything else as gems glitter in the display cases surrounding the area. In fact, a lot of the items look hand made, for each piece is unique in its design. Some of the pieces are rare, and some are odd: not typical items one would find in your average jewellery store.

There only seems to be one person sitting inside behind the counter at the moment, scrolling through his phone. However, as soon as he looks up to see you walking into the store with both Seonghwa and Hongjoong in tow, his eyes are widening.

An excited gasp of your name slips past the male’s lips as he hops off of the stool he had been sitting on in order to practically tackle you in a hug. At the way you hear two pointed exhales behind you, you can just tell the two eldest are staring daggers at this man right now. You chuckle.

“David, hey!” You smile, pulling away to hold him at arm’s length. “It’s been a while.”

“You’re telling me, Missy.” He shoots you a pointed look, voice full of sass. “I thought I was going to die of boredom if you didn’t come to see me again, soon.”

“You’d die of boredom, anyways,” you roll your eyes, smacking his arm playfully.

“Guilty,” he grins, a small shrug to his one shoulder. “Anyways, how’ve you been? I heard you’re no longer working at the mall, which is why you haven’t come to visit in a while. Thanks for letting me know, by the way.”

“Oh, you most definitely don’t sound upset about that,” you snort, rolling your eyes teasingly in the next moment. “I meant to tell you, I really did! Just, shit happened.”

“Oh my god, was it Henry?” Immediately, concern is written all over his features.

Behind you, you can practically feel both Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s chests rumbling with suppressed growls. So, for the first time, you attempt to do to them what they’ve done to you. With difficulty, you envision reaching out to them with your void, hoping that they’ll be able to pick up on it if they’re still constantly monitoring your thoughts. You’re sure they are, especially if their sharp inhales are anything to go by, which can mean one thing, and one thing only. It worked.

“No, no, luckily not,” you’re quick to shake your head. “I have a feeling he’s not going to be bothering anyone ever again.”

“Bastard finally got his comeuppance, did he?” David quirks a brow at you.

“A well deserved punishment dealt swiftly, and quite flawlessly, if I do say so myself,” you smile, and you fail to realize just how proud you’ve made the two males (and the six in the hallway) standing behind you at your words.

“Thank fuck,” David breathes, closing his eyes momentarily as a sense of relief washes over him. Then, it’s as if his whole demeanour flips, a bright smile painting his features as he meets your gaze once more. “What brings you in today?”

“Can’t I come in to see my lovely friend?” You quirk a brow, grin tugging at your lips.

“And here I was thinking you came to pick up that necklace you commissioned from me.” He replies, already moving back behind the counter.

“Necklace?” Your brow furrows only momentarily until realization is crossing your features. With so much going on, you completely forgot about the fact that you had him make one for you. “Oh, right! That necklace.”

“Honestly, woman, how do you survive?” He chuckles teasingly, opening the door to the backroom to peek his head inside. “Suzy, can you bring out order eighty-seven?”

“I honestly forgot about that,” you chuckle, somewhat nervously. You just know that this has grabbed the two male’s attention behind you. Two male who have remained unusually silent for the moment as they pretend to browse through the store on their own.

In the next moment, a shorter woman appears almost eagerly, holding a somewhat large black velvet box in her hands. As soon as she sees you, her eyes light up, an excited squeal of your name escaping her lips. “I just knew it was you as soon as David told me to grab this order!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Suzy,” you smile at her enthusiasm.

“Well, here you go,” she hands the box to you and you turn to place it on top of the counter.

David now stands across from you while the two demons step in behind you, casually observing from over each one of your shoulders. They have no idea what this necklace could be, considering your thoughts are closed off, and all they’re getting from both Suzy and David are how excited they are to see your reaction.

Slowly, you begin to open the velvet box in front of you.

A gasp escapes you as you take in the elegance of the design, noting the little details of the craftwork as you lift the necklace carefully out of the case. The way the gems gleam in the light has your eyes sparkling in awe. Your breath catches in your throat at the amount of effort you know David put into this for you, and you cannot help the way your heart warms at that fact alone.

There, dangling like the brightest star in the night sky, is a perfect replica of Arwen’s Evenstar necklace.

“I’m sure you two know all about her little obsession with that favourite series of hers.” David grins, directing his comment towards the two males standing beside you at the moment. He’s noticed how close they’ve been to you since entering the store, not only physically, but with how they seem to watch you carefully, a tender look in each one of their eyes.

“Believe me,” Seonghwa breathes out, projecting your beautiful, awestruck expression to his other brothers currently waiting outside in the hallway.

“We know.” Hongjoong concludes just as breathlessly, his own eyes catching on the way yours reflect the light just like the piece of jewellery in your hand.

“David,” you meet his gaze, the sincerity shining in your own, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You commissioned it.” He grins back, seemingly shrugging off your praise for the moment. “I’m just glad I could deliver.”

“How much do I owe you?” You begin, settling the necklace back in its box for the time being as you softly close the lid.

“You already payed for it, remember?” He chuckles, reaching over and grabbing your free hand that you have resting on top of the counter before you, giving it a gentle squeeze in the next second.

“Right,” you chuckle along with him, “I did.”

“Sometimes you have to treat yourself to the things you want most.” Suzy directs her comment at you with a smile, repeating your very words back to you that you had told her when you first commissioned this piece of jewellery. “You should indulge yourself more often; let yourself have nice things.”

You smile softly. “Right.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it because it’ll make what I’m about to tell you less painful,” David leans against the counter, motioning behind you to a specific display with his chin. “It sold.”

Your jaw drops, immediately turning and stepping across the store to take in the case that held one of your two favourite items in the shop. “No way.”

“What sold?” It’s Hongjoong who asks the question, casually looking over all of the items in the case before him.

“Only her favourite jewelled dagger.” David grins, meeting Hongjoong’s gaze for the first time since he entered the shop. “It was ceremonial, too."

For the second time that day, Hongjoong needs to lean onto the display in front of him for support. His breathing nearly comes in jagged pants, were it not for the way he manages to control himself for the time being. Barely. Still, he cannot help the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine at learning this specific fact about you.

“You don’t say,” his voice is airy, turning to look at the way you circle the glass case before you.

“I’m surprised whoever bought it didn’t buy the matching sword.” You hum, noting the jewelled handle with the same exact design as the dagger.

“I tried to sell them as a set, but the girl that bought it only wanted the dagger,” David replies with an exasperated sigh.

You scoff, “shame the set was separated, but they are both expensive items.”

“I guess so,” David sighs once more, resting his head in his open palm as he continues to lean against the counter. “Perhaps it’s a sign that you should buy the sword.”

At the suggestive wiggle of David’s brows, you let out a puff of laughter.

“You know that if I buy myself a sword, I’m buying a replica of Anduíl.” You shoot David a look, shaking your head in the next moment, muttering under your breath, “just wish it wasn’t over two-fucking-thousand dollars for one.”

The two eldest share a look.

“I didn’t know you liked blades,” Seonghwa voices, attempting to control himself as well for the moment. The mental image alone of you holding one of his swords in your hands has his knees weak, throat suddenly parched as he looks towards you for the time being.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just the stereotypical bisexual in me,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “I’ve always had an affinity towards them. Swords, knives, daggers, you name it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’ve got a knife kink,” David waves you off, standing back to his full height with a teasing grin on his face. “Goes hand in hand with that blood kink of yours.”

Your mouth falls open in horror, a heat rising to your cheeks. “David!”

Even Suzy looks caught off guard by his statement, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she leans against the wall.

Most importantly, though, you don’t deny it.

Little do you all know of how this little admission affects the two males in the shop, but especially one in particular. Now, Hongjoong barely suppresses his pleased growl, his mind running wild with this new information.

Perhaps he should take you to see his knife collection at some point, letting you pick out the ones you like most to use as you play out all of his darkest fantasies with him. The trust alone you would have for him at that point in your relationship sends a shiver down his spine as he envisions it now. Not to mention the added effect of you and him covered in blood, laving your tongues over each other’s skin to drink in the victory of vanquishing your enemies together.

You literally could not be more perfect.

“At least we still have the other item you always love to stare at when you’re here,” David breaks the growing tension in the shop, voice cutting through the silence as he moves back to his original spot by the stool.

“Really? It still hasn’t sold?” You choose to move on from the embarrassment you’re still feeling, hoping that the two males won’t bring up what they’ve just learned about you any time soon. Though, with how dark their gazes are as they look at you, you know they won’t be letting this go so quickly.

“Even I’m surprised,” Suzy adds, seemingly back to her normal, chipper self after those scandalizing comments from David about you.

“What is it?” This time, it’s Seonghwa who asks.

A knowing smirk pulls onto David’s features, “I’ll show you.”

“No, David-“ you don’t even get a chance to protest as he’s unlocking the cabinet in front of him and pulling out the item in question.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa cannot prevent the way their breaths catch in their throats at the object now presented to them. Moans nearly spilling from their lips as they take in the sight before them.

There, on a red velvet display pillow, resides a beautiful crystal crown. Diamonds and white sapphires sparkle along the base, interwoven between the opaque quarts gems rising into a sharp point from either side. Small chains adorn the bottom, and as David lifts the crown, they fall, only to dangle with more small crystals hanging off of the ends. The intricacy of the design alone takes their breath away. Not to mention how it absolutely glimmers beneath the artificial lights of the store, each gem sparkling beneath their gaze.

Truly, a crown fit for their Queen.

“I think today should be the day you finally put it on.” David directs his comment towards you, seemingly nonchalant as he quirks a brow.

“We couldn’t agree more,” Seonghwa replies breathlessly, as both he and Hongjoong turn to look at you, eagerness shining in their eyes.

“Uh,” you hesitate, unsure of what to do.

“Oh, please?” Suzy whines, eyes shining and hopeful. “I’ve always wanted to see you wear it.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as all four of their gazes are now locked on you. Even as your eyes drift past Seonghwa’s head, you can see the six males waiting in the hallway just outside watching on intently, an almost pleading eagerness to their own features.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, voice but a mere whisper on the air, “Alright.”

Stepping towards David, you begin to do whatever you can to steady your nerves. You know this will mean more to the eight of them than to you right now, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you have always wanted to wear a crown. You’ve just never had a reason to have one before now.

For a moment, the shared memory of you in that field with Yunho flashes through your mind, and you cannot help but to smile softly. A sentiment which is shared by the tall male in the hallway as he catches a glimpse of that moment flitting through your mind. At least this won’t be the first time one of them is seeing you in a crown.

Shifting your attention back to the situation in front of you, you notice Hongjoong standing before David.

“May I?” He asks, and you think that this is the most regal that you’ve ever seen him.

“Be my guest,” David grins, handing the crown over to Hongjoong without a second thought.

Hongjoong’s hands are shaking, whole body trembling as he turns towards you with the crown now held in his grasp. Even Seonghwa, who stands slightly off to the side, is having a hard time keeping it together at this very moment as he supports himself with one hand on top of a display case. Both cannot help but to hold their breaths, waiting in anticipation for what is still yet to come.

Then, as if your body already knows exactly what to do, you take a knee, lowering your head as Hongjoong approaches you. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his presence before you, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Ever so slowly, and with the grace of a thousand moons, Hongjoong places the crown gently upon your head.

The moment you feel its weight on you, your eyes open. In the second it takes for him to take a step away from you, you stand back to your feet, lifting your head to see all eight of them already looking towards you.

The sight of you, standing before them in a crown, nearly sends them all to their knees right then and there for the third time that day.

The first had been when you turned around in that bookstore, your condemnation of that bastard fresh in their minds as they all nearly went wild from your change in persona. The way you commanded their attention, and dealt your judgment, made them feel like a true ruler stood before them. Their Queen.

The second was when you told them you believed in them, only solidifying the fact that they are always ready and willing to do anything for you. They are so desperately in love with you, and to know that you trust them, that you believe in them, made them so unbelievably happy, their souls ascending like never before. Their confidant.

Now, they are finally able see one of their greatest desires coming to fruition before their very eyes, and none of them can deny the way that you look absolutely stunning. Words cannot even begin to describe your beauty to them right now, nor how much this moment means to them at this point in time. The love of their lives.

If they could, they would be on their knees in a heartbeat, worshipping and praising you in every and any way imaginable. After all, it’s what they’ve always wanted, and it’s what you’ve always deserved.

“You look absolutely regal.” David’s lips part in a gasp, pulling upwards into an excited smile in the next moment.

“I always knew you were a queen!” Suzy comments cheerfully, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Our Queen. Growls of approval build in their chests as they continue to take in the ethereal sight that is you before them like this.

If you don’t buy that for her right fucking now, Wooyoung begins, the sentiment being echoed by all of his brothers in this very moment, I will.

In your fucking dreams, I’m buying this for her. San retorts, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness as he turns towards the younger male beside him.

As much as I agree, you guys can fight over this one, Yunho voices. I’ve already given her a crown of my own.

At this, all five males standing around him turn to glare harshly at Yunho. Were it not for the fact that they are in public right now, Mingi’s hands would already be wrapped around the elder male’s throat.

“How much is it?” Hongjoong’s voice manages to draw all of their attention back into the shop before them.

At the way your eyes widen significantly, you’re quick to take the crown off of your head and place it back onto the plush pillow on the counter.

“Don’t answer that.” You shoot a pointed look at David, shaking your head subtly as he glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Then, he’s making a quick zipping motion across his lips, shooting you a wink in the next moment before turning back to face Hongjoong.

“Sorry, brother,” David sighs, putting the crown back inside it’s case. “Lady’s wishes.”

The snarls you can see beginning to tug onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s features have you reacting quickly.

“Anyways, we should get going!” You cut in, reaching over to place a hand each onto both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s shoulders to turn them around and guide them out of the shop. Only, just as quickly as your touch comes, it’s gone, you reaching over to grab the velvet box with your necklace in it in the next second, shaking it slightly in your hand. “Thanks again for this, you don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” David responds, coming around to give you a big hug once more. “Stop by anytime.”

“Come see us again, soon!” Suzy adds, scurrying around the counter to give you a hug of her own.

You chuckle. “I will, I promise.”

Waving a final goodbye to the two of them, you turn back around, noticing how the two eldest seem to be having a silent conversation with the six males outside of the shop. It’s only when you gently tap their upper backs, helping to guide them both out of the shop, do they move.

Stepping back up to the other six, you’re quick to continue making your way down the hallway once more. Only, there’s a slight nervousness to you now. They can see it clearly in the way your shoulders are tense, your hands gripping onto that velvet box for dear life.

It’s Yeosang who manages to break the sudden tension between the nine of you.

“Can I see?” His voice is soft as he falls into step beside you, eyes briefly glancing to the box held in your hands.

“Huh-“ you blink, seemingly pulled out of your thoughts as you turn to look at him gazing at you so fondly. You smile softly, “of course.”

Carefully, you open the case, slowing your pace to make sure you don’t accidentally drop the necklace now held in your hands. Again, that same twinkle in your eyes makes an appearance as you continue to gaze at it in awe, your heart racing in your chest.

“Would you like to put it on?” It’s Wooyoung who asks you, voice kind and caring as he glances between the necklace and your eyes.

You take a moment to consider his words before you nod gently in response.

Without wasting any time, Wooyoung takes the chain from your hand, undoing the clasp as he steps in behind you. He can practically feel you shiver against his touch as his fingers brush against the back of your neck, securing the necklace in place in the next moment.

He can’t help it. Wooyoung trails the tips of his fingers of his one hand along the nape of your neck and all the way to your shoulder as he steps around you to see the piece of jewellery now hanging from your neck. The way you shiver once more beneath his touch has the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

Despite the fact that it’s not something that they have gifted you, each male cannot deny how perfectly the jewel suits you. The gem gleams beneath their gaze, seemingly making you shine brighter than before. A fact which makes them swoon for a second time that day.

“Beautiful,” Mingi breathes, a gentle smile gracing his features reflected similarly on all of his brother’s faces.

Again, you avert your gaze, a heat creeping up your neck as you clear your throat. “So, how about that drink, then?”

813 notes · View notes

lettersfromaphrodite · 10 months

Text

[8.45]

― pairing : Hyunjin x fem! reader ― content warnings : angst with a happy ending, smut, fluff, royals au, Hyunjin is a Prince, arranged marriage, medieval settings, ⚠️exhibitionism/voyeurism, don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable with it⚠️unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all), fantasy au ― word count : 5.467

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

👑 ROYALS! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix part one | part two // Jeongin

The Princess’ unfaltering decision of refusing her arranged marriage was definitely the most entertaining talk of the Castle for the whole month of January.

Nobody but you – her lady in waiting, knew the reason why she was so stubborn with her choice, and your mouth was sealed in loyalty to what was your future Queen - and regardless, always treated you as her friend. You spent every day with her, and in the evening, you would brush her hair as he kept talking about her beloved Duke with a dreamy and enamoured voice, giggling and blushing as she told you every detail about how their forbidden meetings went. You couldn’t help but smile at her, the secret hope that her love would bloom and come true, even if you knew that probably, their secret encounters would never lead to a marriage.

What you obviously did not know, was that while the Princess kept throwing her temper tantrum, the Royal Council kept having meetings, secretly deciding to send a maid in her place, in order to get married to the foreign Prince. Needless to say, said maid was you.

As the King and his Counsellor told you about it, you instinctively sat back in horror on the velvet chair behind you, a hand placed on your hammering heart.

«Your Majesty,» you breathed, your voice shaking weakly as you spoke. «I don’t think I am suited for-»

«I will not tolerate any dissent on your part.» his gruff and authoritative voice interrupted your sentence, and you close your eyes in silent resignation, a lone tear escaping your eyes. «You spent enough time with my daughter to know how a Princess shall behave.»

«Don’t you want to serve your Kingdom?» the Counsellor added, and few men from the royal council murmured among themselves intelligible sentences which you obviously couldn’t understand. You shook your head, giving in, knowing you couldn’t do otherwise.

As you wish, your Highness.» and with that, you excused yourself in order to storm back into your room, not bothering to justify to the other maids and butlers working at the Castle why you were so pale and on the verge of crying.

As soon as you accepted, the news spreaded around even faster than the fact that Princess Illezra was dating a Duke, and that was the main talk for the whole month of February, which you spent refining your manners, since now you had to act like a proper Princess. Illezra developed the habit of sleeping with you, holding your hand and repeating soft «I’m so sorry.» to which you shook your head every time.

«Don’t blame yourself,» you’d say. «I’m just scared.» Illezra would nod, just to repeat the same sentence every day right before falling asleep, and the two of you fell into a peaceful slumber with your fingers tightly interlocked.

Truth was, you weren’t just scared, you were terrified. First of all, you had to pretend to be someone you were not for your whole life, you were being forced into a marriage which you definitely didn’t ask for and most importantly, you didn’t know what your future husband looked like.

For all you knew, he could be a boy around your age, but the chances of him being an old, bald unattractive and evil man were also pretty high. The other Kingdom’s silence was disturbing; they never sent a portrait of your future husband, not even once.

«What if he’s handsome and he thinks I’m ugly?» you whined, pinching the bridge of your nose. «What if I screw up?»

«Language, your Highness!» Illezra giggled, mocking what she had been told countless times. «You’re gorgeous,» she said, sitting behind you on the bed in order to brush your hair, «and if he thinks otherwise, he’s an idiot.»

«What if he’s old and-» you whined, on the verge of crying once again. «I don’t want to think about it, I can’t bring myself to think about it.»

The day of your departing came sooner than you thought and so, during a chill March morning, you were sitting in an expensive carriage headed to your neighbour Kingdom, your heart sinking in your stomach the further you got from the town where you’ve lived all your life. You tried your best to avoid thinking about your future husband and your future life, and so you opted to engaging a small talk with the butler assigned to stay with you until the day of your marriage.

«What if he finds out everything?» you asked him, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you met his sharp yet kind gaze.

«He won’t.» he smiled politely, «No one from their Kingdom ever saw the Princess before.» his words somehow managed to reassure you, and before you realized, almost a day of travelling went by.

The first thing you noticed when your personal butler helped you out of the carriage was that their Castle looked way more expensive than the one you lived in, and the second one was the tall boy with jet black hair which was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

The King immediately welcomed you, introducing himself and the Queen as well, before gesturing to the boy.

«He’s Prince Hyunjin,» he said, «Your future husband.» you politely bowed to him, and he respectfully reached out to kiss the top of your gloved hand.

«Those portrait didn’t do any justice to your beauty.» he said, basically only for you to hear, and the unexpected kind tone of his voice made you wonder if he had been forced to say such a cliché pick up line. Your introductions went smoothly, and the Queen informed about a welcoming banquet being hosted in few hours, so you decided to take up her offer and freshen up.

The first thing you thought as you stepped into your new room was that there was an obvious mistake; the room was huge and decorated with furniture that looked so expensive that you wondered what the Queen’s room would look like. You were particularly happy about the small balcony attached to your room that directly faced the garden, which you would soon find out to remain enlightened all night, thanks to the numerous torches spreaded around.

When shortly after, two maids came to dress you up and do your hair, you thought you could make it work.

When you were sitting at the table while a significant number of people were occasionally staring at you before mumbling things among themselves, you thought you could never make it work.

«Relax,» Hyunjin’s unexpected soft whisper distracted your ministrations of staring blankly at your fork with a bite of food on it. «I promise we’ll excuse ourselves right after the desserts,» he added, before naturally placing his golden caliche in front of his lips, hiding his mouth in order to keep his words even more secret. «They’re probably saying you’re beautiful and wondering when we’re going to produce a heir.» he added, his tone somehow annoyed as he pronounced the last part of the sentence, making you almost choke on your bite of food before you mimicked his action of coveting your mouth with the golden chalice placed in front of you.

«Isn’t it a little bit too soon to talk about an heir?» you asked, noticing that while talking, both you and Hyunjin managed to inch closer, and you also couldn’t help but notice how insanely good he looked up close.

«It is,» Hyunjin chuckled, «but the Royal Counsellor is desperately waiting for heirs.» he smiled at your confused face, before adding a quick «The one completely dressed in purple and looking like an ogre. I bet he’s looking at you.» you tried not to giggle as you met said men’s gaze, before looking back at Hyunjin’s smiling face once again, and he playfully winked at you.

Your heart felt a little lighter knowing that your future husband was at least friendly, and you felt even better when, exactly as he promised, Hyunjin politely excused the both of you before leading you towards the garden.

«Thoughts on the welcoming party?» Hyunjin asked, sitting next to you on a marble bench cornered by small bushes of white roses.

«Definitely… intense.» you offered a small smile, not used to so many people looking at you while studying your every move since you’ve never been a Princess in the first place.

«We’re both obviously new to this,» Hyunjin nodded, before scratching the back of his head in a shy manner. «But I promise I’ll do my best to make it work.» you smiled at him, silently thanking the heaves for your luck, before reciprocating his promise.

If three months ago, the day you cried yourself to sleep at the unexpected news, someone would have told you that you’d be finding yourself falling in love with your future husband, you would have probably curse at them in a very un-lady like manner.

But yet, there you were, involuntary playing hide and seek with Hyunjin in the small maze inside their garden, trying to find a decent hiding spot while trying to hold back your laughter.

«Really?» Hyunjin asked as he almost appeared out of thin air, walking out from the turn next to yours. «You think I wouldn’t catch up?» he asked, and with a rush of adrenaline, you sprinted out from the blind spot where you were hiding, only for him to almost immediately stop your foolish and useless escape by tightly holding your waist; knowing that there was no use trying to outwit him when he probably knew the maze’s pattern by heart, you gave in with a small yelp as soon as your back crashed against his body due to him pulling your frame to his. With a small pout, you let Hyunjin turn you around, his arms still loosely hugging your waist.

«I could walk around here with my eyes closed,» Hyunjin said, faking an arrogant tone, a slight pant in his breath matching yours.

«So?» you asked, your hands on his chest and your gaze locking in a silent challenge.

«So,» Hyunjin’s voice lowered to a mumble, «Running away from me is useless.» he added, and his lips slowly inched towards yours, searching in your eyes any kind of doubt or refusal, leaving you all the time in the world to walk away from his embrace. Hyunjin never found a trace of doubt in your eyes, and so you stood on your tiptoes, closing the space between you and felt Hyunjin smile into the kiss as he held you closer to his body.

That kiss was the first one of many, countless, infinite kisses shared between the two of you, with innocent hearts full of love.

Even if you loved and trusted Hyunjin, you never told him the truth; even if you thought that you couldn’t live a lie for your whole life, you still couldn’t bring yourself to face the consequences of him finding out about your identity.

Deep down, you knew that Hyunjin didn’t fall in love with you for your status and you doubted he would care whether you were born in the royal family or not, but you also knew that this kind of lie was classified as treason, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face Hyunjin’s disappointment towards you.

Illezra kept sending you letters, and you had a very secret correspondence with her, which apparently was trying to let her parents accept her relationship and make her a Duchess so that her and her lover could be together. Despite being happy for her, these letters were the constant reminder of your lies, and Hyunjin never said anything as he saw you glancing sadly out of the window. He would simply hug you, kiss your head and mumbling that since you were homesick, as soon as you got married, he would love to visit your kingdom, too. Hyunjin’s kindness made you wonder if you really deserved him.

Approximatively six months after your arrival, strange rumours started to spread out among the royal council. Needless to say, those rumours completely revolved around your identity, but you’d never heard about them until eventually, it was too late.

By now, Hyunjin had sneaked into your bedroom a countless times, only to leave in order to return to his before morning came – his room was adjacent to yours, so he just needed to open a small door and throw himself in the bed of the communicant room right before his butler came to wake him up.

As cliché as it was, you believed you could never get enough of the feeling of Hyunjin’s warm body against yours, and for him, it was just the same. There was something about Hyunjin moaning your name as he came while trying to keep his voice low that you couldn’t help but love; there was something about the sense of intimacy of Hyunjin passionately making love to you every night that you could not help but wish for those moments to last forever.

Happiness proved itself to be such a fleeting feeling, as one day you returned to your room, only to see Hyunjin partially leaning against your desk, an unreadable expression on his face while holding an envelope you immediately recognized.

«What are you doing?» you asked, your voice trembling in fear as your hands weakly gripped the door’s golden handle behind your back.

«Why are you reading my-» with a rush of emotion, you tried to approach him with the intent of taking the letter out of his hands – even if you knew it was probably too late, when Hyunjin held his hand in mid-air, signalling you to stop.

«This letter comes from the Princess,» Hyunjin said, and your heart sank as you heard his cold tone, «which is very weird, because I’m marrying her in three days.» you felt the blood drain from your face, Hyunjin was about to find out the truth and all you could do was standing there, petrified. You held Hyunjin’s emotionless gaze while tears started to cloud your view, realizing that Hyunjin was blocking you out and showing you the face he showed to everyone else, and not the innocent eyes full of emotion you fell in love with.

Hyunjin effortlessly broke the royal sealing wax while still holding your gaze, the small noise of wax being torn was the only sound echoing in the room.

«Dear Princess,» Hyunjin began to read Illezra’s neat calligraphy, «I deeply wish your marriage is working out, and your fiancée is half as good as mine. I will never stop reminding you that I’m sorry, and that I’m infinitely thankful to you for taking my place.» Hyunjin scoffed, before throwing the letter on the table without bothering to read the rest of it. «Care to explain?» his harsh tone softened for a moment at the sight of your panicked state, but his disappointment was too great.

Hyunjin politely waited for you to talk with his hands crossed in front of his chest, as if the gesture would have helped him to keep in one place the world about to crash on him. You did not know why, but still you could not bring yourself to say a word; the thoughts of having disappointed both the man you loved and your kingdom were the only thoughts swirling around your head and with another scoff, Hyunjin stood up, walking past your frame and in his room without sharing another word.

For the first time since you arrived there, Hyunjin locked the door connecting your rooms, and you broke down in silent tears, kneeling in the middle of your room oh a Thursday morning, three days before your marriage.

You knew that you both did not have any task for the day, since you could hear Hyunjin moving around in the room next to yours. You spent half of your day sitting next to the door, not even bothering to change in more informal clothes, before few drops of common sense decided to silently make their way back into your head.

«Would Illezra go down without a fight?» you whispered to yourself. «Neither am I.» you sighed and stood up, walking to your nightstand and taking out a small key and a big amount of letters tied up with a silk ribbon from the top drawer.

«I have a spare key, Hyunjin,» you said loudly as you approached the door, «And I’m not afraid to use it.» you politely waited, deciding that if he didn’t unlock the door by himself, you would have done that. You were about to marry, but most importantly, you were in love; you’d never let anything walk between the two of you.

Surprisingly enough, Hyunjin unlocked the door few seconds later, and you stormed into his room and immediately sat on his bed, facing him, which was staring at you, confused at your sudden bravery and wondering why you decided to bring so many letters along.

When Hyunjin first asked you to explain, you wondered for a moment about lying through your teeth, but who would want a marriage based on lies? Certainly, not you.

Therefore, with that thought resonating in your head and in your heart, you told Hyunjin everything. With hesitant steps, Hyunjin slowly sat next to you on his canopy bed, as he listened to anything and everything you had to say; you told him about how the news crashed down on you and how about since then, you have felt pressured of living by the standards of living and behaving like people expected and imposed you to do. Hyunjin held your hand as your confession of you being terrified of this whole situation, but also the fact of not wanting to get married to a stranger.

«You could have been anyone,» you said, wiping another tear that effortlessly escaped your now puffy eyes, «I was terrified of you being old and ugly and evil.» you admitted, a small and sad smile appearing on Hyunjin’s lips which you didn’t see, too busy playing with his fingers interlocked with yours.

Hyunjin politely waited for you to finish your outburst, while never letting go or stop caressing your hand. «I can’t find a reason to blame you, but» Hyunjin’s gentle voice said. «I want to know if you meant what happened between us, or it was just part of what your King ordered you to do.» he asked, and as your eyes locked for the first time after you walked into his room, you saw Hyunjin looking so vulnerable you felt your heart tremble.

«It wasn’t a lie.» you quickly shook your head, relaxing a bit seeing Hyunjin’s soft smile once again. «I could never lie about loving you.» you admitted, and Hyunjin hugged you, affectionately kissing the side of your head as you wiped the last tears escaping your eyes.

«Then, I don’t care, the rumours will eventually stop.» Hyunjin sighed. «You’re going to be my wife, and married couples are allowed to keep secrets.» you nodded, hugging him back and wondering what were the chances of you finding such a gentle and caring boy as Hyunjin as your future husband.

«I’m sorry, too.» Hyunjin broke the comfortable silence that enveloped the two of you, now cuddling on his bed – with some difficulty, due to your formal clothes. «I was too focused on the fact that you lied, that I didn’t consider that you had more than valid reasons to do so.» Hyunjin’s words were soft and sincere, and you instantly cuddled closer to his chest, whispering not to worry.

«I never believed I would fall in love,» he chuckled, talking more to himself, «And yet, here I am.»

«Here we are.» you gently pointed out, and he simply answered by kissing the top of your head.

«Yeah, here we are.» Hyunjin mumbled softly, few moments later.

Now, if you thought that Hyunjin’s Castle and the room you have been given were expensive looking, you definitely did not expect the wedding to look so… extravagant.

If you were still living as a lady in waiting, your marriage would have been a humble ceremony into the town’s chapel but as a Princess, you were about to walk into the Capital’s Cathedral, your path surrounded by sumptuous and expensive decorations and unknown faces focusing on any detail from your hair to your dress, which made you look like as if you walked out from a fairy tale – a bit too much for your tastes, but Hyunjin’s face as he saw you was enough to forget everything, from your doubt about the veil being too long, to your discomfort at being once again the centre of attention, to your fears about tripping on your feet.

«You look stunning.» Hyunjin mouthed as soon as you stopped in front of him, and you instantly rolled your eyes as a wide blush covered your cheeks.

The ceremony went smoothly and rather quickly, unlike what you expected. Hyunjin kissed you longer than he was supposed to, with both his hands on your cheeks, and since then you couldn’t focus on anything else but the lingering taste of his lips on yours and the feeling of absolute happiness you felt anytime your eyes met.

«Organizing a surprise in three days is almost impossible, but I hope you’re going to like my special gift.» Hyunjin smiled as he led you away from the crowd of people attending your wedding reception, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

Hyunjin slightly turned towards you only to offer you a wink, looking even more handsome now that he had unbuttoned the first two buttons of his white shirt; even if you asked him few times what he meant, he never gave you a proper answer, and so you trusted him, until he led you to the marble bench where you comfortably sat under the moonlight on the first night you met.

Hyunjin abruptly stopped and you almost crashed against his body, but managed to stop just in time; you were about to ask him why did he stop so suddenly, when your attention was caught by a very familiar figure now standing up from the bench.

There was no way you could confuse her petite figure, the way she held her fan, or simply the way she brushed his gown exactly two seconds after she stood up; after all, you spent years living with her, and you knew that probably at some point, even your heartbeats were synchronized.

«Illezra?!» you asked, dumbfounded, but also feeling your heart speed up with excitement; you looked at Hyunjin, asking for a silent confirmation that you weren’t having hallucinations due to your corset being too tight, and as soon as he nodded, you ran towards her.

Illezra immediately hugged you close, her sweet perfume enveloping you and making you feel like you were in the privacy of her sumptuous bedroom instead of a Castle’s garden, you hugged her even closer, and the two of you stayed like that for a while. The hug you and Illezra shared held a silent conversation full of “I’m sorry”, “I’m glad this worked out”, in base of how tight you were hugging each other; a small cough caught your attention, and you shifted your attention to the figure behind Illezra, before detaching from her, which still tightly held your hand.

«You’d be happy to hear that we can freely hang out with Duchess Illezra and her husband, from now on.» Hyunjin’s soft voice said as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

«Duchess?» you incredulously asked her, your eyes widening in surprise. Illezra simply nodded, and officially introduced you to the Duke, which you’ve heard her talk about for countless nights.

«I owe you a lot,» Illezra said, clutching your intertwined fingers against her chest, but you simply shook your head. The four of you spent part of the afternoon by yourselves, before joining once again the other guests and excusing yourselves for having ran off; you could not stop thanking Hyunjin for this surprise – you never thought you could meet Illezra in public ever again, but he simply shrugged anytime you mentioned it, leaning in to peck your lips in a soft and sweet kiss.

Despite the day went great and you felt the happiest you’ve ever felt, there was a thing you actually feared: your first night as a married couple. You and Hyunjin have made love a countless number of times by now, hidden in the shadows of your bedroom, but you knew about a particular fucked up tradition that royals had.

Apparently, both for good auspicious and in order to verify the first night of marriage was consumed, the heavy curtains of the canopy bed would be tightly closed while outside; few members of the court would wait for the couple to finish their intercourse.

Of course, both you and Hyunjin weren’t exactly happy about it, but you both knew that refusing this stupid ceremony meant that someone could have contested the veracity of the marriage.

Hyunjin sat right in front of you on the soft mattress of the room you’ll be sharing from now on, his legs crossed while mirroring your posture, looking at you with an amused yet shy smile. You shrugged, covering your eyes in embarrassment knowing that a layer of fabric was separating you and your husband from indiscreet eyes; you opted for re-adjust your positions in order to cuddle, chuckling at how surreal this situation was.

«I’m really not fond of having an audience.» you mumbled, caressing Hyunjin’s hair while he had his head on your chest; you felt him nod against your skin.

«Neither I am,» he admitted, shifting just enough to place his chin on top of your breast to look at you. «We don’t have to do anything, if you’re not comfortable.» he added, and you loved how considerate he was being once again. You sighed a little too loudly, immediately covering your mouth since that sigh could be misinterpreted, and Hyunjin’s head followed your chest’s movement with an amused smile on his lips.

«As long as you hold my hand, I suppose I’m gonna be okay.» you furrowed your brows, running your hand through Hyunjin’s long and soft hair, and he closed his eyes in bliss at the sensation of your fingers playing with it.

«We can stop anytime,» Hyunjin mumbled, supporting his weight on his arms while hovering above you, «and just jump on the bed while moaning randomly.» he added, barely above a whisper, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his childish yet mischievous expression.

A thing Hyunjin was exceptionally good was keeping promises; for the whole night, he kept holding your hand, from the moment his fingers were buried deep inside you, to the moment where his length was moving with hard and deep strokes. Hyunjin had one hand buried in the mattress, right next to your head, while the other was tightly intertwined with yours; while your free hand was tightly placed in front of your mouth to muffle your moans, despite the sound of the bed creaking and slamming against the wall was giving away pretty obviously that you decided to act up to your duties.

Hyunjin was staring at you with hooded eyes, silently loving how your body was so responsive and sensitive to his touch; his eyes glanced to his left, and he stilled his hips inside you with a harsh thrust, making you whine while arching your back and closing your legs around his hips in the desperate attempt to make him sink deeper. Opening your eyes, you saw Hyunjin’s mischievous eyes focusing on the hand in front of your mouth, before he eventually shifted to partially support his weight on his elbow, his sweaty and hot body now pressed flush against yours, making you instinctively clench around his length.

«Let them hear, sweetie.» Hyunjin sinfully mumbled against your hear, slowly placing his right hand over the one you had on your mouth in order to slowly moving it away, allowing you to decide if you were comfortable with it. Once again, Hyunjin saw no trace of doubts in your eyes as he slowly leaned back, and he just smirked, moving his hips in order to create some friction between your bodies; you shut your eyes with a deep intake of breath, his stiff length filling you up just perfectly. «Let them know who’s make you feel so good» he added, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as his warm, big hand delicately caressed your body only for it to stop under your left tight just to lift it up while slightly spreading it even more. «Who’s making you this wet.» Hyunjin’s soft moans in your ear were about to make you see stars, and you sank your nails in his left hand – which was still interlocked with yours, as he proved his point with a harsh thrust which only made you whimper a loud «Please.»

Hyunjin’s cocky attitude only came out when you were having sex, so the fact that he kept moving in slow strokes while raising his eyebrow and mumbling an innocent «Please, what?» didn’t surprise you, on the contrary, it made you even wetter, if possible. If you thought that there was something fucked up about part of the royal court waiting for two people to finish their sexual intercourse while standing outside a canopy bed staring at some closed curtains, you also believed that there was something fucked up about both you and Hyunjin obviously enjoying it. There was something about Hyunjin’s body – how perfectly it moved against yours and how you felt like two puzzle pieces finally connecting, which always had the ability to bring you on your knees, figuratively and metaphorically.

«I’m yours, please.» you whined, already too far gone to properly answer to Hyunjin’s request, but he complied nonetheless, and he started to move at a slight faster place while holding your left leg higher, in order to have a deeper access into you.

The surreal situation you were in, added to Hyunjin’s praises on how good you were and how perfectly tight you felt, accompanied by the harsh movements of his hips, quickly helped you to build up your orgasm, and in return, your loud moans and pleads added to the fact that you kept writhing in pleasure under your husband’s body in order to feel even closer to him, quickly helped Hyunjin to quickly approach his own. Hyunjin came with a loud groan, his brows furrowed together and his eyes tightly closed as he buried himself inside you, and that vision alone triggered your orgasm as well. Hyunjin welcomed you back from your post orgasm state while rubbing your noses together, and you leaned in to peck his lips with a soft giggle while your heart softened at the feeling of your hands still locked together.

Both of you turned your attention to the sound of steps hurriedly exiting the room, and as the door closed, leaving you two finally alone, Hyunjin captured your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, his long strands of hair resting on your forehead in the process; you gently pushed on his shoulder, signalling him to roll back, and he eagerly complied, careful to not slid out of you as you were now sitting on top of him.

«Always so eager,» Hyunjin mumbled, his hands naturally gripping your hips as your mouth came in contact with the bare and sweaty skin of his neck, marking it up to your heart’s content. Now, you finally had the night for yourselves.

The following day, you and Hyunjin couldn’t help but giggle to yourselves as apparently, the court’s member couldn’t hold your gaze any longer.

«Do you think we somehow scared them?» you whispered to him, hiding part of your face behind your pastel green fan.

«Probably,» Hyunjin chuckled, «And this is why I believe,» he said, circling your hips with his strong arms, «That in order to remind them who’s in charge, we should renew our vows every ten years.»

«You’re an pervert,» You blushed, hitting his shoulder with your now closed fan, «Once was more than enough.» Hyunjin hummed, giving you a playful smirk, «You definitely looked like you were enjoying it-»

«Hyunjin!» you laughed, placing a hand on his lips, in order to prevent him from finishing his sentence, and you quickly glanced around just in case someone could have heard. Something wet met the palm of your hand, and you retreated it, looking at Hyunjin with an incredulous yet amused expression.

«Did you just lick my hand?» you asked, and Hyunjin shrugged, before you both laughed together.

At least, your marriage wasn’t going to be boring.

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months

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Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her.

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer.

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear.

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?"

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on.

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there.

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

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