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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

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𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 !

synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.)

pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader, light takeomi x reader content warning: smut (esp this chapter) porn with plot, car sex, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, sexual tension, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse. word count: 7.1k authors note: can I just say... thank you all so much for all of your comments, reblog and support. It makes me so happy to see my writing has so many people hooked! sorry for the wait, just wanted to make it perfect for you all hehe <3 stay tuned for the next chapter! as always, comment suggestions ;)

WAKASA NEARLY FELL FORWARD from the force of your kiss. He detached – albeit very briefly – to smile against your lips. He pressed forward for another kiss, much more passionately this time. His tongue swiftly entered your mouth, and with it came a deep, guttural chuckle. His grip on your thighs tightened momentarily before you felt yourself being lifted off of the toilet altogether.

The gasp that escaped your lips at the sudden movement was swallowed up by Wakasa’s kisses. He teetered slightly before throwing your legs over his hips. It felt different this time, the way his lips danced against yours – sucking and licking in a way that had your head spinning. It felt like he was starving for more, even though he was eating you alive as it was.

You hadn’t realized he had begun walking with you wrapped around his waist until you felt the exposed skin on your back collide with the ice-cold bathroom wall. Holy fuck, okay, this was happening quickly. You shuddered at the unexpected contact, throat suddenly constricted by his warm hand. It was unexpected, it was dirty, but you would be lying if you said the feeling didn’t shoot right down to the growing warmth between your legs. You weren’t complaining, not when you could feel the heat of his core pressing right into yours, big and hard.

Bringing your hands over his shoulders and around his neck, you tangled your trembling fingers in his bicolored tresses. His grip on your neck tightened in response as he tilted your head to get a better angle into your mouth.

His fingertips applied pressure on all of the right areas, pushing down on your blood supply while still – just barely – giving you room to breathe. You wrapped your legs around the man, bringing him closer until his chest was pressed flush up against yours. The violent clash of teeth and tongue that came from the desperate lips exploring yours made your head spin with pleasure. That and his unrelenting grip on your neck.

Just as your eyes began to roll back you felt your lashes fluttering. Wakasa took his hand back without any further warning, and you gasped at the sudden rush of air that entered your lungs.

“Wait– Wait,” You panted. Between kisses, you managed to get out, “Take– he’ll know we… went missing–”

Wakasa stopped, but only to press his forehead against yours. His chest heaved as he panted for air. For a faint moment, almost believed he was going to have mercy on you, but then those pinkened lips of his pulled back into a knowing smirk. “He thinks I’m taking you home right now,” He licked his lips.

His hands found their way down to your thighs, grasping the disheveled fabric of your evening gown and hoisting it up around your waist. His breath was warm against your neck.

You made a surprised noise. “You’re taking me back to his house after this?”

“Nah, yours,” was all he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Or mine, if you want. I can go for round two.”

Under any other circumstance, you would have gotten flustered with him. But then you remembered where you were and what you were doing – cheating on your boyfriend with his coworker for the second time this month in the bathroom of some seedy VIP nightclub – and you figured you had long since moved past that.

This time, when he pressed against you, his bulge pressed deep into the fabric of your panties. You gasped, clutching at his broad shoulders, “Waka,” you whined.

His back was so toned, so strong, fuck, it was turning you on like crazy and you had no idea why. You could slide your fingers over the muscular valleys of his shoulder blades for hours. When the tips of your nails caught his skin, you felt him shudder.

“I wanna fuck you so bad right now,” He panted. His leg nestled itself between your bare thighs.

He liked that…

You were throbbing. You wanted nothing more. It was kind of funny – the way your hips began moving on their own, rutting against his thigh like a desperate whore just to take the edge off. It was like you were made for him.

He brought you into another searing kiss. He let you ride his thigh, keeping you pinned there against the wall.

“So fucking hot,” He practically moaned into your mouth. His words came out a little bit slurred, but it could have been because he said those words right up against your lips.

You doubted yourself suddenly. “Waka, wait,” you said, bracing your hands on his chest and then pushing him away from you slightly. “We’ve been drinking”

“Drunk actions are a sober man’s thoughts,” He retorted. The smile that followed after his words made you feel butterflies. “Trust me, doll..."

This was wrong. Very wrong. But the moment you felt his hand slip between your sweaty bodies and brush over the waistband of your panties, you threw what was left of your morals out the window.

“I’ve been thinking about ripping these off of you all week,” He purred. He snapped the waistband against your stomach.

His experienced fingers traced over the damp spot in your panties. Your body betrayed your will, leaning into his touch. You wanted this. You wanted this so fucking bad it hurt .

“You want that, baby?” He asked you. His eyes were half-lidded and dark, pupils blown wide as he licked his lips. "I won’t do nothin’ if you’re unsure.”

“What if Takeomi finds out?” You asked timidly. It was a bit late to be thinking of him but, still, you couldn’t help it.

“He won’t,” Wakasa smiled breathlessly.

It was getting a bit hard to focus when his thumb was rubbing up and down – slowly – between your clothed folds.

“He’ll kill you, you know,” You shook your head. “He’ll kill me.”

The ball was in his court now.

“Your man knows I can beat his ass,” He chuckled. Fuck, he looked so pretty you couldn’t do anything but trust his word. His index finger toyed with the bottom of your drenched panties, tracing the lace pattern on the hem. “You’re safe with me, promise.”

His words made you melt. This was just a hookup. You tried to remind yourself of that while your heart pounded away behind your chest.

“Okay,” You nodded slowly. Letting your hand act of its own free will, your fingers slipped beneath the neckline of his shirt. You felt him lean into your touch.

He smelled so good, so expensive. “I trust you.”

The smile Wakasa gave you could have powered the entire city of Tokyo with its warmth. His finger hooked beneath the fabric of your panties. “You want these off?” He asked.

Before you could answer, he was already lifting you up, sliding your panties over your hips, and then practically tearing them off of you. Then he kissed you again with an almost drunken fervor, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You felt your back slipping against the wall. He set you down on the handrail, having you sit there for a moment while he dropped to his knees. You watched keenly as he reached for his ponytail and promptly tugged it out.

You’d never seen him with his hair down but you decided that it was something you wanted to see more often. He carded one of his hands through his hair, it was… remarkably luscious for a man who fought and did crime for a living. He looked up at you as he pinched the hair tie between his teeth, sliding his hands back over his golden locks until he managed to collect all of them into a handful.

He turned his head to the side, slipping the hair tie onto the fistful of hair and then tying it up. He twisted his hands with considerable expertise, bringing the ponytail up into a bun and then immediately hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He splayed his hands out over your navel when he was done, licking his lips. One hand traveled south towards your dripping cunt, dipping two fingers in between the folds before spreading them apart. “Shit,” he noted. “You are wet .”

He stopped for a moment to look at you. Pussy soaked, legs spread wide open for him – you imagined you were a sight to behold.

“I’ve never seen such a pretty pink pussy,” He mused. “Bet you taste like candy.”

It was absurd, the effect he had on you. You felt yourself drip at his words. You rested your head against the wall, trying your best not to look at him. It was in vain, of course. One flick of his index finger over your swollen clit had you looking down at him.

“Wanna eat you out,” He looked desperate – face tinted pink, lips swollen and parted slightly. His eyes were trained right on the dripping mush he had created between your legs. You had never seen a man get on his knees for some pussy before, but the wild look in his eyes as he finally tore them away to look at you reminded you that you weren’t dealing with just anybody here. “Where do you wanna cum first?”

You tilted your head. First?

“I can’t decide if I wanna feel you cumming on my face,” He grinned. His eyes darted down to your pussy just in time for him to flit right over your hole. You clenched around nothing. “Or on my dick.”

You whined. “We’re gonna get caught if you don’t hurry.”

“Not even a taste?” He huffed out a slight little laugh, shaking his head. “Been thinking about it all week.”

He was fucking dirty, what the hell…

You were embarrassed, oddly enough, and dropped your head down to cover your face with your hands. “We can do that another time,” you answered. “I need you right now.”

If he had ears like a dog, they would have perked up at your words. Slowly, a grin crawled over his face. “Okay, yeah,” he said slowly, like he was taken aback by your words. “We can do that instead.”

Then he was back on his feet again, scooping you into his arms and then sealing your lips together. The way you felt your body melt into his touch seemed criminal. He was so strong for someone of such small stature, holding you up while he walked the two of you backward in a way that seemed almost effortless.

“‘M’g’nna ruin that pussy,” He mumbled into your mouth, smearing your spit down your chin. His tongue slipped between your lips with a satisfied groan.

It was messy, desperate, and it had you aching for him – you were sure you had to be leaving a snail trail on his shirt. He set your bare ass down on something cold. By the way the surface dipped below you, you assumed it was the sink. The feeling of something flat and cold against the back of your head confirmed your assumption.

His next words came as a hushed whisper against your tender lips, foreheads pressed together. “Think you can take me without any prep, baby?”

There was nothing more attractive to you than a man who knew his dick was big – especially not a man who had proven it.

You took in the first inch, having to pause to adjust yourself to the sudden thickness splitting you open from the inside.

Wakasa let his head back against the seat, biting his lip. His breaths, slightly ragged, began to fog up the windows. But he didn’t rush you. No, he let you take it at your own pace.

You slid down further and further, feeling yourself stretching around him like you were made for it, like taking it was your job. And then, right when you had gotten about halfway down on it, you looked at his pretty face. His pretty face flushed with pink, a shade which matched that of his eyes. His head was thrown back, hair beginning to stick to his forehead, and sweat beading at the base of his neck.

You swallowed. Shit. That was a good question. In fact, you weren’t so sure that you could.

You could feel it pressing into you at this level. He felt so warm.

“Yeah,” You smiled anyway. You were well aware of the fact that the two of you were running on a time crunch. “I want it.”

Wakasa grinned, reaching into his back pocket and letting you rest against the mirror. He pulled out his wallet, opened it up, and then picked out a foil square. He tore into the wrapper with his teeth, spitting it into the trash can.

You couldn’t take the wait. You gripped him by the collar of his shirt again, pulling him into another bruising kiss. He seemed prepared for it anyway, pressing up against you and deepening the kiss with a passionate sigh.

He pulled back to lick his lips. “Needy baby,” he said. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he fumbled for the zipper on his pants. You could feel him adjusting himself before he was able to slip the condom onto the head of his dick.

There was an almost painful moment that passed – however brief – as Wakasa pried your legs open and lined himself up with your entrance without breaking the kiss. You wanted him so bad – the throbbing heat between your legs was almost painful.

The distinct feeling of his tip making contact with the melting, dripping mess you had become in a matter of minutes brought you back to him.

Wakasa grinned against your swollen lips. “You want me to fuck you right here, princess?” he asked you. “With your clueless boyfriend in the other room?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, biting into your lower lip so hard you thought it would draw blood. You needed it. You needed him . “Need it–”

Wakasa’s eyes burned bright with desire, lilac irises lit like a sunset in July. He was so close to you now that you could hear his breath catch in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he purred. “How bad?”

On cue, you felt him dip the head of his cock in between your warm folds, just enough to tease. You wanted to grip him by the shoulders and sit on it, sheath the entire thing inside of you right here, right now, but he had you trapped against the sink, strong hands pinning yours down to the ceramic counter to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to get away. Your hips rutted up desperately in some feeble attempt to get friction. When he denied you such satisfaction, you whined.

“Beg for it,” Wakasa hummed, pressing his forehead against yours.

Once again, the effect this man had on you was almost alarming.

“Waka, please,” You begged him. He tilted your head toward him, lips ghosting over yours like he was getting off on seeing you all hot and bothered like this. His breath was warm against your lips. You could smell the liquor on his lips – it was intoxicating. Melting, you finished, “I need you.”

He teased his tip over your puffy clit. “Hmm… I’m not sold yet,” he said like it was nothing. A smirk grew on his face. He leaned in, toward your ear, and muttered, “Wouldn’t want you to regret it again, would we?”

Keeping your gaze trained out the window, you spoke again, “I’m telling you we can’t see each other again. Okay?”

For a moment, Wakasa looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to make you stay. Worst of all, you kind of wanted him to.

“You sure, princess? Don’t have nothing else to say to me?”

You did.

“No,” you affirmed. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

It was getting really hard to focus. “I didn’t mean it– any of it, fuck–” You seethed, just in time for him to tease over you another time. “I… I was talking out of my ass. Takeomi had me nervous about what would happen, and it was just…”

“Yeah?” He teased. He slapped his tip on your already sensitive bud, reeling in the way you lurched forward.

“Fuck– I’m sorry!” You gasped, words a stuttering mess. “Please, I’ve made up my mind, I…” Here you swallowed. “I want you, Wakasa! Fuck , I want you !”

Wakasa grinned. He licked his lips slowly, tantalizingly. Leaning down to your level, he captured you in another poisonous kiss – your head was spinning with desire – and then pushed in without so much as another word or warning.

“Fu-ck!” You cried out – and, really, cried was the only word you could use to adequately describe the gasping shout that was torn from your lungs.

It felt like you had been split open.

“M’gonna,” He grunted, pushing himself deeper into your aching hole until you were clawing at the sink. “G’nna make you eat those fuckin’ words, doll.”

He was so fucking big, fuck– you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It hurt so good. Despite the way you were dripping all over him, going in with no prior preparation had you feeling like you were trying to start a bonfire.

Wakasa shuddered, pressing his forehead against yours as he exhaled shakily. “So tight, baby, fuck .”

The way he roughly gripped your hips elicited another gasp from your trembling lungs. You reached for his shoulders. The angle he was getting like this – with your legs around his hips, with your pretty pussy propped up on the counter just for him – made your mind go blank.

You felt him pull out of you, kissing your forehead before practically slamming himself back into you again. The whole sink rattled with the force of it.

The sinful, whiny moan that passed Wakasa’s reddened lips had you melting into him. “Fuck,” he gasped from the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. “ Shit .”

You threw your head back, as he thrust forward again. Your body jolted forward. The two of you sighed in perfect tandem.

Drawing your brows together, you felt the pain begin to subside. Pleasure began to take its place. You felt so full, fuck , he was scratching the itch you’d been having for the last week like it was his job.

“ Waka,” You whined. “S’good–”

Then he was picking up the pace, and you felt the back of your head begin to thump rhythmically against the mirror. It felt like it was going by so fast but you knew the two of you were on a time crunch.

It felt so good. The feeling of being seen by him after having spent the last week ignoring him made the sensations ten times more powerful. Seen, touched, wanted…It was different this time. You weren’t running away anymore.

Up and down, up and down. Wakasa appeared to be mesmerized by the way your tits were bouncing in that dress you were wearing.

Your hands began clawing at his back. You needed him deeper, closer. It was all too much and – at the same time – not enough.

Seemingly sensing – or sharing – your thoughts, he yanked you off the counter. Lifting you into his arms, he bent you over the sink, gripping your hair in his fist as he placed a kiss at the base of your neck. He continued peppering small kisses down the curvature of your spine. Unknowingly, you arched into his touch.

His touch felt so heavy, weighted by some emotion you felt your interactions with Takeomi lacked. Where your boyfriend's hands left cold, emotionless touches all over your body, his hands carved through your intricate curves and valleys like he was trying to memorize the layout of your trembling body.

You felt exposed like this – you usually didn’t take it from the back – it made you a little nervous. In the dirty mirror, you could see his eyes drop from your waist to your hips, and then down to the slick running down your thighs. He licked his lips, running his hands over your ass.

“Y’er so fuckin’ pretty, doll,” He exhaled sharply. Lifting his hand for a moment, he brought it down harshly against your tender skin, eliciting another small gasp. “Takeomi don’t know what to do with all of this.”

He eyed you up animalistically. You felt his tip glide through your folds – but only for a brief moment. During the span of three seconds, he’d thrust his hips forward until he was sheathed entirely in your warmth.

You cried out for him. “ Waka –”

He was so fucking deep . You didn’t even know how to begin processing the sensation, nerves burning with the sudden feeling of him bottoming out inside of you.

This time, he didn’t let a moment go to waste. He immediately opted for a faster pace, hips snapping forcefully against your ass as he resumed his slaughter of your sore cunt. From the looks of it, he had made wrecking you his mission.

“G’nna send you back to him with a limp,” He moaned. It was like music to your fucking ears. He slid into you with such force now that you lurched forward, bumping your head against the faucet.

With the slick of your arousal already dripping down your legs, he slid in and out of you with ease. Tangling his hand in your hair and looping the other around your waist, he grabbed a fistful and tugged your head back.

You gasped.

“Look in the mirror, baby,” He purred, directing your wide-blown eyes to the mirror in front of the two of you. The sight of him almost made you cum on the spot.

Disheveled strands of hair framing his wild eyes, it felt as if he was staring into your soul. His cheeks were dusted with a faint rosy hue, lips parted slightly as he panted in your ear. Sweat had begun to bead at his neck, sliding down over his collarbone and dripping down below the collar of his disheveled shirt. Another button had come undone somewhere between a few hours ago and now, revealing more tendrils of ink spanning the length of his chest and his torso – patterns of roses winding around him like vines. He had you enthralled.

For a moment, you burned for him; Like the flame of his passion was licking away at your skin and turning you to ash. Your heart felt full with so many feelings running around. Having him so close to you made you realize how much you had missed him all of this time.

His grip was strong on your waist and your hair, veins protruding from his strong hands. When you clenched around him, he bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Want you to look in the mirror while I make a – fuck – a mess out’ta you,” He added.

You couldn’t fight the pleasure. It was so much, it made your head spin. As his thrusts became more forceful, you could hear the wetness squelching as your pussy struggled to accommodate his girth. The glass soap dispenser on the edge of the sink began to jump.

“Waka, baby–” You tried to get out. Your sentence was broken as he slipped in deeper and you felt his tip bump your cervix. “Someone’s g’nna hear u– ghh ..”

Your vision went white for a few seconds. As the light faded and the blurry vision of your lover came back, you could just barely make out that devilish little grin of his as he pulled your head to the side – pressing kisses against your freshly exposed neck.

You heard – rather than felt – yourself drip onto the floor. “ Mmh !”

He mumbled against your sweaty skin, lips smearing spit around, “Does he fuck you like I do, princess?” He moved his hand away from your hair, bringing it around your neck and gripping you like a vice. “Bet your pussy only squirts for this dick, yeah?”

He filled you up perfectly, sliding against your abused g-spot over and over again in a way that had you dripping even more .

“Leave him–” You felt tears pricking at your eyes from the combined sensations of the overwhelming pleasure and the guilt. “Leave him out of this.”

“Tell me the truth,” He spat. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

“Please,” you panted.

His hips slapping against your ass – his dick filling you out and stretching you open – you felt the tears running down your face before you knew they were coming. It felt so good. It was overwhelming. The knot in your stomach was wound up real tight. Any minute now, he would push you over the edge.

He smirked at you in the mirror, releasing your throat to caress the back of your thighs. “Use your words, pretty girl.”

It was kind of hard to do that when his thrusts had your vision going white at the edges.

“No one else can fuck you like this,” He cooed. “Just me, yeah?”

He was right. He was so right it made you want to cry.

You pressed your cheek against the cold surface of the mirror, shaky breaths fogging up its clear surface. He bottomed out inside of you again, tip kissing your cervix. This time, he bent himself over you, thrusting forward at such an angle that he was hitting that sweet spot inside of you – and going so much deeper – with every snap of his hips.

Panting and moaning like a bitch in heat, you clawed at the sink. Your eyes were unfocused, mind going numb with pleasure as you desperately searched for something to grab onto for dear life.

“Say it,” he growled. Attacking the side of your neck, his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh. You clenched around him, tearing a whine from his chest.

“Jus’ you,” You gasped, lurching forward from the force of his thrusts. “Fuck– ‘s yours, Waka.”

It had been him all along. You had been his from the start.

His thrust threw you forward against the mirror. Your hand slipped, somewhere, and the glass soap dispenser fell off the side of the sink, colliding with the ground in a deafening crash.

You were going to say something, but you couldn’t. All that came out whenever you opened your mouth were a series of “ah”s and “mmh”s. It was as if Wakasa had rewired your brain; changed everything around until the only thing you could produce was a cry of his name.

At this point, the possibility of the two of you getting caught must have skyrocketed. As he pinned your hips down and beat your pussy up, your strangled moans became borderline screams.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” He cooed. “Can’t stop lookin’ at ‘ya.”

There it was – that overwhelming urge to give in. The urge to be held by him, to be claimed by him. The urge to belong to him, to be loved by him.

No. You couldn’t catch feelings. Not now, not when you were in this deep.

His hand slipped between your waist and the countertop, dipping down and teasing over the swollen red bud at the top of your pussy. He began flitting two of his digits over the little bundle of nerves.

The added sensation was too much to bear. You felt the warmth begin pricking at your thighs, tugging at something deep in your gut that threatened to snap any minute now. You were getting close – you could feel it in the way you felt your walls clamping down on him.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he growled.

It was his. It had been his since the first time. It would always be his. The answer was so simple that – in the heat of the moment – it seemed to slip out in the form of a desperate cry.

“ Yours, ‘S yours ,” You chanted like it was some sort of perverted mantra.

“All mine,” He said, kissing the back of your neck again. “G’nna cum for me, princess?”

Shit. You bit back a moan, feeling your legs tremble. The end was so near for you that you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to hold on for very long. Raking your desperate eyes over his chest in the mirror, you watched his head fall back.

“Mhm,” You mewled. His tip slamming into your sweet spot, his fingers rubbing tender circles over your clit, applying pressure in all of the right places – it was all too much to handle. “‘M g’n’a..”

“Shit,” He released a shaky breath. His thighs seemed to tremble against yours, indicating that he, too, was trying to hold on. He gasped out, lifting his head up to look at you in the mirror. Your eyes met, sending electric sparks all over your body. Your nerves burned with desire for him. “Don’t be shy, baby,” He panted. “Let everyone hear who’s making you feel good.”

“You,” You panted.

At his will alone, your moans increased in pitch. He had you pressed up against the mirror, breath hot against your own face, chest heaving as he pistoned into you from behind.

“Fuck, Waka, ‘M about to–” You gasped. You felt more of your arousal drip down your legs and onto the floor. Your words were discombobulated, your head jumbled by the mind-numbing pleasure that was quite literally coursing through your veins. “ Waka – wanna…”

“Go ahead, baby,” He smiled. Reaching forward to take a fistful of your disheveled hair, he pulled you back towards him and captured your lips in another deep, passionate kiss. His tongue found yours in a dizzying, lustful haze. Against your lips, he groaned, “Cum. Show me whose cunt this is.”

All it took was that last command, and your willpower shattered.

You felt your release catch up to you. With the little strength you had left, you sobbed for him. “ Waka… !”

His. That’s what you had been all of this time. You’d only been too blind to see it.

Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, knocking all of the wind out of your lungs as you lurched against him. Your hips slammed back against his as he fucked you – roughly – through it. Clenching around him, crying out for him, searching for his lips like a desperate whore, it was clear that your love for Takeomi had been an illusion.

It was him all along.

The feeling of your walls sucking him in like that had him gasping against your lips. His own orgasm hit him only a few seconds later, hard dick twitching inside of you as he spilled his seed into the condom. You felt like you were milking him dry.

“Ah,” he panted, letting his head rest against the mirror next to yours. He looked about as fucked up as you knew you did, hair plastered to his forehead, sweat sticking to the top of his skin.

He pulled out without much of a warning. You gasped at the sudden emptiness. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash bin.

“Shit,” You commented, chest heaving up and down.

Wakasa laughed breathlessly. “Shit,” he agreed.

Your legs were still shaking. He turned you over and let you sit on the countertop.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” He sighed, going in for another kiss almost immediately.

It took you a few long minutes to come back down to earth. Your skin was buzzing with post-coital bliss. Your lips felt tender as he gently sucked on them. The two of you parted with a quiet pop.

You averted your eyes. You knew that if you looked at him you would feel that thing, that little feeling stirring inside of you like leaves in an autumn breeze. Rather affectionately, you had given it the title of “thing” because you didn’t know what it was. The thought of what it entailed was enough to prevent you from doing any more digging.

It was – and would remain – just a thing. A thing that you would keep locked away within the deepest confines of your devilish heart.

“Takeomi’s probably wondering if I made it home,” You sighed with a breathless chuckle, resting your forehead against his. The moment felt so intimate, so uncharacteristically tender. Under normal circumstances, you would have put some space between the two of you to preserve the integrity of your feelings. You knew you didn’t have the strength to even do that.

“Probably,” he chuckled, eyes pressed shut. He hummed, pressing another kiss to your lips, one that you melted into. Finally, he pulled away, producing your panties out of seemingly nowhere and rolling them over your ankles. He pulled them up over your thighs, lifting you up for a moment to slide them over your hips. His lips kissed your inner thighs.

Reaching for the wrinkled skirt of your evening dress, he pulled it down to cover your legs. One last kiss was pressed to your forehead. “Let’s get you home, doll,” He sighed.

After such an intimate gesture, it took everything you had to ignore the way your heart warmed for him.

The ride home on Wakasa’s motorbike was different than last time. The awkward silence was gone, replaced by the warm thrum beneath your veins that you didn’t quite understand just yet. Being close to him felt nice. You brought your arms tighter around his narrow waist, resting your head upon his chiseled back. Even with the helmet over your head, you could feel the wind brush through your hair. It felt refreshing.

It had been a 15-minute ride so far. You knew the club wasn’t very far from home, of course, but you wished time would stop robbing you.

Wakasa had changed his hair into a bun, leaving two strands out to whip against the side of his face. You pressed your nose into his shirt, inhaling the scent you had grown to adore – expensive cologne, faint hints of smoke lingering on his skin along with the slightest hint of sweat. It was intoxicating.

You knew full and well that these thoughts were dangerous. But, still, after such a dramatic change of events, you couldn’t help yourself. Your legs still felt weak from the aftershock of what had gone down in the bathroom.

With a sigh, you turned your eyes to the city skyline. Tokyo looked so beautiful at night. The buildings loomed over the two of you – very briefly, of course – speckled with tiny windows of golden light. You could hear music, just vaguely, and you could see people rushing home in their cars as Wakasa merged onto the highway.

“Hold on, princess,” He had warned you. For a moment, you didn’t understand what he meant. But as he revved his motorbike and took off flying down the road, you fell into him with a shriek. Over the sound of the engine, you could just barely feel the vibrations from his laughter.

“Slow down!” You shouted. The wind whipped past you. There was no doubt in your mind that he hadn’t heard a single word you had just said.

Wakasa only shook his head. He turned his head to grin at you before looking back at the road and picking up more speed. Traffic flew past the two of you like you were warping through time. Wakasa weaved between cars and trucks with practiced ease.

His hand slipped between the bike and his lap, placing itself over your folded hands and rubbing small circles on your skin. It all felt so intimate. In such a non-sexual manner, too. It made your spirit ache for him. You knew you would be thinking about this for the next year.

Even when he let go to steer with both hands, you felt the warmth of his touch linger.

Continuing to speed through the highway, Wakasa eventually pulled towards an exit sign.

Shibuya District

1 MILE

You felt the smile fall from your face. Just as soon as the moment had begun, it had come to an end.

The two of you tilted to the right as he exited the highway. Though he slowed down, you felt the world spin as he hit the curve. You looked up toward the sky, silently marveling at the way the stars seemed to spin on their axis. It was this pretty shade of purple, like a midnight blue.

Wakasa sped up again, merging back onto the main roads – slower this time, but not by much. The buildings the two of you passed began to look familiar. You knew that you were close to home.

You wondered what Wakasa made of this whole situation, though you doubted it had torn him up inside the way it seemed to have done to you. His heartbeat was steady and calm despite how fast the two of you were moving – not just here on this bike. You envied him for his ability to stay calm, even in the face of such a dangerous situation, for it seemed that your heart went crazy every time he was nearby.

His touch felt like fire, like your skin was made of ice. He warmed you to your core. That couldn’t be a coincidence. By the looks of it, it seemed as if you had begun fostering some sort of feelings towards him. For a moment, you wondered if he felt the same way.

Then again, it didn’t matter, did it? You were a taken woman. The thought of getting on Takeomi’s bad side alone was enough to make you abandon that train of thought. You could never act on such feelings, however ambiguous they may have been.

But he was warm, so warm… You wanted to melt into him. These feelings of yours would surely get in the way of this … whatever ‘this’ was. So, instead of making these concerns known, you rested your head on his back again. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

He glanced back at you. You felt your heart warm again.

I’m such a fool, you thought after an exaggerated sigh. There was no turning back now. At this rate, you figured you might as well make the most out of whatever the hell the two of you had while it lasted.

A few moments later, you felt the bike roll to a stop. Wakasa kicked the stand up, letting the bike lean to the side. He tapped your thigh.

“We’re here, doll,” He hummed.

You whined, lifting your head from the warmth of his back. Still, you let him take the helmet off of your head and hang it on the handle of his bike. He turned to face you with a smile. “Text me this time, alright?”

You yawned, drawing the moment out as long as you could. You weren’t all that tired, not now, at least. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t have the secret desire for him to pick you up and carry you into the house.

Ugh.

“Wait a sec,” You stayed put, nestling your head back in between his shoulders. “Don’t wanna go yet.”

Wakasa laughed tiredly, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that, doll” He sighed. “Y’er gonna make me go inside with you.”

He slid his hand over your knee when you didn’t lift your head up. You wondered if he, too, dreaded parting ways tonight – for some odd reason you just couldn’t explain.

“What’s stopping you?” You mumbled, though the words came out muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

You felt him laugh again.

“Go home, princess,” He replied, looking somewhere off in the distance. It was probably your house. “You know ‘m always a call away.”

Feeling your cheeks burn, you hid your grinning face in his back. His voice made you weak in the knees. His words made you crumble.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you sighed.

You didn’t want to go but tossed your leg over the bike and hopped off anyway. Feeling your skirt fall to your feet, you leaned down and dusted your legs off. When you looked back at him, you almost fainted.

He was looking at you like you were the only one in the world. And you were, at least on your empty street. His eyes, deep with adoration, lingered over your body. When they darted up to your eyes, you could have sworn you could see the ‘thing’. Whatever that was.

“Thank you for everything, Waka,” You bowed your head.

You hated to admit it, but Wakasa almost looked a bit sad to see you go.

He nodded towards you, “Be careful with that limp.”

With a slight roll of your eyes, you turned around and marched towards the house. You paused in your tracks, then turned back around, like you had forgotten something.

You swallowed. “Waka,” you called.

He was leaning over the front of the bike when you called his name.

“I have some tea inside, you know,” You trailed off, folding your arms over your cold body. Anxiously, you toed at the dirt. “You should come in and have a cup. ‘S the least I can do for you.”

He paused for a moment with his eyes wide, like he was thinking about your offer. He looked at the empty street, then at his bike, then back at you. Finally, he grinned as he shook his head.

You felt your heart speed up. You wondered what he would say.

Wordlessly, he turned off his motorbike and slipped over it. The moment you saw him approaching you, that entourage of butterflies was back with a vengeance, sending sparks flying up and down your body.

When he was right in front of you, he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You felt yourself melt all over again.

"Stay with me tonight," You sighed into his mouth. "Don't leave yet."

He sighed. He looked so pretty under the moonlight that you felt the same way right now about him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

"We can have a sleepover," you giggled, turning back towards your house. You called the next words over your shoulder, "I'd hate to make you go home so late, y'know."

Wakasa followed close behind, kissing the back of your shoulder as he returned your quiet laughter. "Yeah?" He hummed into your ear. The sound made you shiver. "Though I can't promise you'll be getting much sleep with me around, doll."

He looped his arm through yours, letting you use him to keep your balance while the two of you climbed up the steps to your front door. As you reached into your purse and jammed the key in the door – for the first time that evening – the thought of your boyfriend didn’t even cross your mind.

It had been him all along, after all.

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stellariah · 25 days

Text

wretched/divine — Mammon x reader

⊹ word count: 1.2k ⊹ content: sfw, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, cuddling, MC is falling apart, Mammon is too. ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ a/n: based on Nightbringer lesson 3-17 (so spoilers). Repost of old fics that were previously 2 parts of the same story. I had a lot of feelings about the NB plot and this is the result lol.

Your lips gliding against his again felt like a dream.

Mammon groans softly, pinned between your body and the sofa in his room. His lips are gentle and his soft hair tickles your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

You didn’t mean to topple both of you over, but you’re grateful for it. There’s something reassuring about being pressed against him, feeling and loving the warmth of his skin.

For the first time since you fell through time, Mammon’s face is relaxed—his handsome features less stricken by grief and self-hatred. You run your fingers over his brows and along his cheeks, trying to commit this more peaceful version of him to memory.

The dream doesn’t last long.

Mammon snatches your wrists, pulling your hands from him and leaning back to end the kiss. For a moment, you stare into the ocean blues and molten golds of his irises, watching his snow white lashes flutter as he blinks at you. You almost laugh, this bewildered expression reminding you so much of your Mammon at home before you fell in love.

But this isn’t your Mammon. And this isn’t home.

“Whoa! Wh-?!”

He mumbles frantically for a moment, thoughts tangled by his tongue while he slowly inches up the arm of the couch to put more distance between your bodies. Your heart sinks into your stomach. You shouldn’t be here.

“I don’t…what the…are you crazy!?”

Alarmed by the harshness of his tone, you lean back and the gap grows even wider. You already miss his warmth. You miss him. As the tears begin to well, you hear a familiar uncomfortable squeak from the direction of Mammon’s door. Leviathan is gawking, an envious blush spreading from his nose to the tips of his ears.

“D’ah! Levi…you son of a…what’re you lookin’ at?”

The brothers squabble as Mammon wiggles himself out from underneath you. You stay on the couch, tucking your face into the cushions, willing your tears to go away.

“It’s not what ya think! Ya got it all wrong, okay?! All wrong!” Mammon shouts as he gives Leviathan chase, their bickering sounding down the hallway.

You lie still, listening to your pulse echoing in your skull, hoping that you can compose yourself enough to leave his room. The couch doesn’t even smell the same. There’s that summery metallic smell that’s uniquely Mammon, but all the other gifts time bestowed on it—drunkenly spilt Demonus, the occasional magical residue from a misfired spell, the iron tang of the Grimm he’s hid in the cushions, the smell of you—are all gone. It makes you sick.

It takes a few shaking breaths, but you manage to peel yourself up, wobbling on unsteady feet as you make your way into the hallway. You don’t want to see Mammon right now. Not this one. So you run as fast as your legs will take you out of the House of Lamentation.

You find refuge in a storage closet at Cocytus Hall. This place doesn’t remind you of anything, so it feels like a safe place to cry. You curl in on yourself, finding comfort in the burning of your lungs. Your D.D.D. buzzing in your pocket goes ignored. You’re sure this Lucifer will be furious with you. You weep silently until the tears run dry.

When you emerge, the rest of Cocytus Hall is quiet. Your tear-puffed eyes scan the hall anyway because you know Solomon can be very sneaky. You tread carefully throughout the house, hoping to reach the sanctity of your room without bumping into your sorcerer roommate.

As you drift through the unfamiliar space, that same sick feeling swirls in your gut. You have to stop a few times—leaning against the weird feeling walls, taking steadying breaths—before you make it there.

Your door is cracked open. It shouldn’t be.

This wouldn’t be the first time Solomon entered your room without permission, but you storm in intent on ensuring it’s the last. What you don’t expect to see is a very different shock of white hair, bat-like wings flexing in surprise at your abrupt entry. You stand frozen at the threshold.

“Oh, uh,” Mammon starts, tucking his head down. “Sorry. Uhm.”

This is so much worse than the look on his face after you kissed him. Mammon is perched on the edge of your bed, folded in on himself. He looks nervous and unsure. He’s out of place here in more ways than one. It breaks your heart.

“Look, uh, attendant, I didn’t mean to run out on ya like that after we…uh, ya know…” he rushes over the words, the same flustered blush blooms across his cheeks. It’s very similar to your version of him, but it’s not the same. He’s still just as beautiful.

“But ya know Levi is real annoying and I had to teach him a lesson bout walking into my room without asking so I couldn’t just let ‘em go. No one could reach ya on your D.D.D. and we got worried, and I thought that maybe I had something to do with ya ignoring us so I came here- But I shoulda asked before barging into your room cuz I just yelled at Levi for the same thing and-”

He lifts his head, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Wait, why’re your eyes all red? Were ya crying?”

You don’t mean to, but the softness in his voice makes the tears flow once more. Your shoulders tremble with effort, trying but failing to stop them. You turn on your heel to flee the room, your uncertainty making it impossible to face him—to hear that beautiful voice full of concern for you.

All you can think about is your Mammon. How scared and angry and heartbroken he must be. Your home. And how it may be falling apart. And how much you miss them. Miss him.

But a firm pair of arms swiftly wrapping around your middle prevents your escape. You thrash in his hold, the sobbing only worsening when he holds you tighter. You feel the warmth of his cheek press into your shoulder. He whispers into your sweater a string of apologies and “it’s okay”s and “I’m here”s until your body is too tired to struggle any longer. You sink with him to the ground, taking the much needed comfort of being protected in his embrace.

“Please don’t go.”

If you had it in you to cry more, you would. Instead, you turn in his arms to wrap your own around his shoulders. You tuck your face into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder and trace little circles on his back over his jacket with your fingers. He trembles, too, the fabric where his face is buried in your shoulder becoming damp.

When his own tears stop, he scoops you up and carries you to your bed. He places you down with a gentleness that makes your heart swoop, pulling the strange comforter up to tuck you in. He pulls himself up to leave, but you grab his wrist to pull him down with you, holding him until you fall asleep. Even though this isn’t your Mammon, you know you love him, too.

And for the first time since you fell through time, this place feels a little less like a nightmare.

©stellariah 2024 | do not copy, repost, translate, or feed my work to AI

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon #om mammon x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #if you've seen this before...no u haven't lol #sio writes

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #tw: smut #tw: dubious consent #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years

Text

Sad Ending

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries, what have you.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When you're reunited with Damian after year's of being apart, what he doesn't know is that you're there to say goodbye

A/N: This didn't quite turn out how it played out in my head but ig that's partly because I wasn't able to put in the filler parts in between cuz it just didn't fit. In hindsight I could've written a few more k's of words to fit it in but I reached my limit so I hope y'all enjoy it.

Your eyes were trained onto the figure in the crowd of the gala. The same figure it had been pinned to for a few weeks now and it would continue to be that way for as long as you could.

Damian Wayne was just as beautiful as you remembered him, with sharp eyes and a gorgeous face that had your heart leaping to your throat with a simple look. But you believed that the world wasn’t blessed with eyes gifted enough to see the true beauty of him.

A beauty that only someone who knew him on the inside would.

Everything about him was compelling, gorgeous, familiar. You watched him from afar in longing, wishing that you could go up to him but still you kept your distance, fearing the worst if he knew you were here.

Still, you remained selfish, indulging in your desires to get whatever glimpse of him that you could. You kept him away from you however, knowing that once you got a taste of him, you wouldn't be able to pull back.

But it was tough, you had missed him, so much.

Even so, you were content simply watching him.

You thought you were sneaky, that Damian didn't notice. Of course, you overestimated yourself, or underestimated him. And of course, in the traditional Wayne fashion, you had to expose yourself in the most dramatic and eccentric way possible.

The famous Damian Wayne, son of reputable and not to mention rich Bruce Wayne was attacked at the bank by a bunch of thugs, armed with weapons. The security was taken out swiftly and you imagined that Damian would quickly disarm the man threatening him with a knife.

Instead, he made no move, not even bothering to look remotely interested and just held up his hands like he was bored. The bandit, trigger-happy and confused, pulled back the blade in his hand, to try and stab him.

The crowd gasped and whimpered but were silenced by the man pointing a gun at them. Damian still didn't look phased. Instead, he lazily tilted his head until his eyes locked on your figure, hidden in the shadows. You stopped dead, watching carefully as he stared at you, completely tuning out the man putting his life in peril.

When the thug moved again, to try and stab him and Damian still didn't make any move, you leaped from your place before your mind could even process it, wedging yourself between the both of them and quickly disarming the man.

He fell to the ground, screaming in pain when you knocked the weapon out of his hands and then twisted his arm, hearing the painful crack of his shoulder getting pulled out of its socket.

You glared at the man behind you from the corner of your eye, "You could've gotten hurt."

He shrugged, "I knew you'd step in to protect me."

You scoffed, "You put a lot of faith in someone you haven't seen in years."

He just smirked in the infuriating way you knew he would before moving from behind you as more men came at you. With his help it didn't take long before they were all on the ground, either knocked out or groaning in pain.

"Um, can someone call an ambulance for these guys?"

When you turned, Damian was watching you with a small smile and your heart fluttered in your chest. You should've kept him at an arm's distance, you should have left but in the moment all you wanted to do was be in his arms.

Before you could even help yourself, you crashed into his chest like a falling star, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in the familiar scent of him. He held you tightly against him, cradling your head lovingly and gently pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"The league." You whispered to him, remembering why you were here.

Damian shushed you, tightening his arms around you and you were in a safe haven, sighing in relief against him. For a second, all the fear and guilt you had been feeling melted away.

Nothing else mattered as long as you were in his arms.

"We can discuss it back at home, (Y/N)." He muttered, now pulling away so he could lead you away from the police and reporters to his car.

You stared at your fingers intertwined with Damián’s, the engagement ring on your finger glimmering brightly under the sunlight and smiled unconsciously.

"I missed you." You sighed, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. Damian spared you another smile over his shoulder before you caught up with him, leaning into his arm.

"Me too, beloved."

****

"You should get some rest, beloved." Damian muttered, as the others began leaving the room. Your shoulders were still tense but you managed a smile, nodding at him.

"I'll just wash up and join you."

He smiled gently at you, raising your hand and placing a fluttering kiss to your knuckles before leaving. You watched the door as it slid shut and it was only then you let your expressions melt back onto your face.

"You may have the others fooled, but don't think for a second that you've pulled the wall over my eyes." Came from behind you and you froze, eyes widening.

You spun around to see Damian's brother, Tim, inch his way closer to you, figure stiff and guard up.

"Because Damian knows you, I'll assume your identity to be true. Damian was quick to trust you and the others followed suit but something's not adding up. Why are you here?"

His eyes were sharp and his gaze cut right through you. You didn't realize it but your hands were shaking even though you tried hard to maintain your composure.

"I—I told you," You croaked, cringing at your suddenly choked voice, "I was giving up on this life. I'm turning over a new leaf and hiding from the League until that happens."

"Then why come here?"

"I told you—"

"I don't believe you. You know why? Here's the problem with your story." He spoke, coolly, "Take it as a puzzle. The puzzle pieces all fit, but the picture, doesn't make sense. Why come here? When you're on the run from the League of Assassins no less?"

You were floundering, quite pathetically you might add, unable to think when your mind was flurrying so violently. It didn't help that Tim was speaking in such a condescending and strict manner that it intimidated you.

"Here's what I think happened; either you're here to lead the League to Damian, waiting until he's vulnerable and his guard is down to strike." He spat, "Or, you're not running from them at all. You're waiting until they find you."

You hesitantly raised your eyes to meet his, "You can't tell Damian."

"Since you even tried to entertain the fact that I'd hide Damian means that it's the latter. But why?"

"I was hand-chosen by Talia to be Damian's betrothed since birth. They handed me down to one of the main sergeants to be raised as their own. Except, they weren't that happy to have me." You explained, watching as his features smoothened over with realization.

The gears in his head were turning and you could only assume what was going on in his mind. He was a great detective; you could understand why he had Ra's' acknowledgement. But that made you all the more nervous, trembling hands holding onto the material of your shirt tightly.

"I was raised by them to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. As the person who was going to continue the 'Al Ghul' bloodline. However, soon after I was already perceived as a failure." You murmured, keeping your voice low in fear of any other Wayne's poking their head around and over-hearing.

"When Damian left the League to stay with Bruce." Tim realized and you nodded.

"Things just got worse after that. I sustained an injury from a mission and couldn't walk for a few months. My step-family was called on a mission for the last few of my recovery. When they returned, they were unaware of my progress but I decided to keep up the act that I was still unable to take care of myself. It was a few nights after that I heard them plotting to kill me since I became a liability and a shame to the family."

The man in front of you chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his tired face with his palm, "What kind of fucked up Cinderella story is this?"

You shared his sentiment, "Only difference to the original is that my prince never came. So, I had to take matters into my own hand."

Tim's eyes widened, "(Y/N), why is the league after you?"

You released a shuddering breath, "Damian can't find out."

He bristled, "Damian would protect you."

"And that's exactly why he can't find out. Damian would die to protect me, and if he tries to step in that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Then why come here? Why bring it to our home?"

You hid your face in your hands, "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to be selfish one last time. I was completely content with just watching him from a distance, I guess I overestimated my abilities. When we met, I was hoping he'd turn me away. I was hoping he'd tell me that he moved on and never wanted to see me again. I was hoping he'd tell me that he didn't feel anything for me."

Your eyes began watering and you felt the urge to hide and cry. Everything was getting messed up. Guilt took over you when you remembered how bright Damian's face was when he saw you, how right his hand felt in yours. How could you do this to him?

"Damian would want to know." Tim told you softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder but your body stiffened up. He couldn't find out. He just couldn't.

"Are you really willing to put the life of your brother at risk for a girl you just met today?"

"You seem awfully keen to die." He commented, and you felt slight grief at his words. Of course, you didn't want to die. Not now, not when you were finally back in Damian's arms. Not ever.

You sniffled, biting your lip, "Damian shouldn't have to pay for my sins. I do."

His hand tightened on your shoulder and you found comfort in the warmth you could feel through your clothes, "I'll keep your secret."

Sighing in relief, you hugged him tightly, "Thank you."

****

When Damian woke up, his eyes flickered between the lamp beside him on the nightstand and then to the window. It was still dark outside, he assumed that he was woken up because of his usual schedule. It wasn't like him to miss patrol but the others suggested that he take a day off to rest.

He turned his neck to see that you weren't in bed beside him and wondered if last night had been a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time that he dreamt of you being by his side. But he remembered how much his heart pounded, he remembered feeling shocks all over his skin when he touched you.

And then he noticed the way the other side of the bed was mussed up, like someone had been sleeping there and he absently reached for that side, running his fingers up and down the fabric like he would be able to feel some residual warmth from your body.

Instead, the pads of his fingers came into contact with something coarse. His brows furrowed and he grabbed it between his fingers, realizing it was a folded piece of paper. Squinting and sitting up, he got a better look at it, recognizing his name scrawled in your handwriting.

'Damian.

I'm sorry that you'll have to find out this way but the League found my location a little earlier than expected. I'm going into hiding tonight. It's likely we'll never see each other again. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this in person. Even though I know this is a missed opportunity for it and I should have summoned up the courage to say goodbye, I just couldn't stand the thought. And I couldn't watch myself break your heart. Please forgive me for this. I never wanted our lives to turn out this way, but I can't keep running away from reality and towards my desires anymore. You deserve so much more than I could ever even hope to offer you. And I know this is another mistake I'm making, but I left the ring you gave me. Thank you for giving it to me, but I think it belongs to someone else.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

-(Y/N)'

His heart rate picked up, skimming over the words a few more times. This had to be some sort of trick, he tried to decipher your words, tried to see if there were any clues, any codes but his heart clenched in his chest when he realized there was none. He pulled back the covers in a frantic motion and sure enough, the engagement ring you were given on your 18th was glimmering, abandoned by you.

Blood hammered through his ears and he threw off the covers, getting to his feet and sprinting through the doors. His feet pounded against the hardwood floors and then the metal floors of the Batcave.

"Damian? What're you doing up?" Dick asked, raising a brow as Damian marched his way down to the Bat Computer before pushing Tim out of the way and pulling up the Manor security cameras. You had managed to avoid all of them. Of course.

"We have to find (Y/N)." He said, not turning his eyes off the screen.

"(Y/N)? Wasn't she in bed with you?"

"If she was in my bed then I wouldn't be down here trying to find her, now would I?!" He bit back and then held out the note for Dick to read. Once he got through it, Dick squeezed his younger brother's shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Don't worry, Little D, we'll find her."

"Damian, she said she doesn't want to be found. Don't you think you should listen to her and trust that she knows what's best?" Tim asked from behind him, hoping to get his brother to relax but Damian's back tensed up before he turned to his brother.

"You know something."

Tim froze, "What?"

But before he could even think of a cover story, Damian was grasping him by his collar, holding him to eye level to look the devil's grandson in the eye, "What are you not telling me, Drake?"

Realizing he's been caught, Tim pushed his hands off him, turning so that his back was facing him, "Doesn't matter. (Y/N) said she didn't want you to find out and I promised her."

He felt a little helpless watching Tim's back facing him. He didn't feel like himself. Every second that Damian spent away from you, when he knew that you could be in trouble had every part of him, every fibre of his being, every cell in his body ache with a pain he had never felt before.

Never in his life would he have thought that he would be brought to his knees by someone. But you held all the power over him and Damian would gladly kneel before you, his queen. And now he couldn't stand being away from you, he couldn't bear the ache in his nerves when he couldn't feel your skin under his.

"Tim." The silence in the cave was deafening as everyone looked between the two youngest brothers, "Please."

It was then Tim began doubting his choice. He bit his lip uncertainly, avoiding Damian's gaze and he looked to his feet, "She said she didn't want you to find out."

"Tell me."

And he did.

****

Your fingers were curled tightly around the handle of your sword, breaths coming out in sharp labours as you tried to deflect each of their offenses. There were too many of them, too many for you to take and even though you were able to dodge and counter most of their attacks, there could still hit you.

You were bloodied and shaking but you still refused to give up without a fight. They'd regret ever underestimating you, ever thinking that you were nothing more than a way to continue the Al Guhl bloodline. You were much more than that and they'd only see a fraction of it tonight.

Your resolved hardened in your veins as you sliced through another soldier, feeling more determined to get through this fight as the victor. Even though deep down you knew that it wouldn't change the end of your life, they'd never stop trying to hunt you down. But at least this way you'd put up a fight.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up the momentum, your speed and agility was retarding fast and decelerating with each hit you took. The wounds and cuts etched into your skin burned as you moved, blood dripping down your arms and legs.

Your body began going rigid, shocking in its movements momentarily as you kept flipping and manoeuvring yourself to doge the hits. That came to be a fatal mistake when your body locks up when you blocked one of the assassins, swords clashing together in the familiar sound of metal on metal.

Another came at you and your joints were locked in place, unable to move. Your mind blanked out and before you could slide the sword out to counter the other you heard someone scream your name.

You felt arms wrap tightly around your middle.

You saw green eyes.

And then you felt piercing pain in through your chest.

Damian heard you gasp in his ear and his grunt of pain echoed through your head as the katana went through him. Tears immediately clouded your vision when you felt fire burn across your middle, the blade of the sword buried into you as a painful reminder.

"Damian." You sobbed when you felt his knees buckle against yours. His body wanted to collapse, he couldn't stay standing much longer but you knew that if either of you moved, in an unsynced motion from each other, it could cause more pain to the other.

It was getting harder to breathe. You were choking on your own blood as the metallic taste filled your mouth. The sword had gone through Damian's lower abdomen but it had gone straight through your chest.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shirt, crying out into his neck, "Why did you come here?! Why didn't you stay away?"

With trembling fingers, he raised your chin so that your eyes would meet his. He was crying, the scorching pain forcing out more tears. Even then he wrenched a smile on his face.

"There's no one else in the entire universe I'd want by my side more than you. The ring is yours, my love."

Like as if on que, both your bodies crumbled towards the ground. The sword moved painfully through you and a garbled shriek left your mouth, muffled by the blood crawling up your throat.

Your head fell to Damian's chest and you heard the sound of his faint heartbeat, the sound getting farther and farther away as minutes passed. His arms were still wrapped around your waist in a lover's grasp, bodies pinned together until eventually everything went black.

Your prince came back for you this time.

What a shame the story had a sad ending.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Take Her For a Spin

Title: Take Her for a Spin Summary: Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark. Porn without plot. Tony catches Natasha and the reader messing around outside the sauna and eventually Nat calls him out because he's not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Words: 1,537 Warnings (for the whole fic): PWP, Shameless smut, threesome, voyeurism, non-con voyeurism, sex toys, light dom/sub, 18+ as always

Masterpost mobile

Tony can hardly believe what he is seeing. Through the crack in the door leading to the sauna in the Avenger’s compound, Natasha is stimulating the shit out of Y/N with a toy. Both of them were naked as the day they were born, covered in a sheen of sweat, on the wooden floor. They were not inside the sauna, in the room outside it. But they surely had been in there before, the door to the sauna was steamy.

Tony had come down to relax himself but had stopped on a dime hearing the obscene noises coming from around the corner. He had peeked around the corner, curious about who was playing hide the pickle, finding the door cracked.

His eyes had almost bugged out of his head when he found the two of them. He never would have guessed. Nat had been sweet on Banner but since he had disappeared again… and Y/N? She flirted with everyone. He had passed it off as innocent flirting, a quirk of hers, but it made sense now. Maybe she had been throwing out feelers this whole time.

Tony debates leaving but he cannot tear his eyes away from the way Y/N is arching her back and god, the wicked smile Nat’s got on her face as she dirty talks Y/N… Nat as a dom he definitely called.

Palming his quickly hardening cock through his sweats, Tony desperately hoped no one else came to interrupt this or worse, catch him being a peeping Tom.

<><><>

Nat pressed the vibrator deeper, pressing the stimulation arm closer against your clit. You moaned, cupping your tits, fingers flicking over your hard nipples.

She taunted, “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nodded fervently.

“So wet. Do you hear your pussy around this? Music to my ears.”

She ran a finger down your folds around the toy and brought it to her lips, sucking you off her finger. She moaned salaciously.

“You’re so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll have you finish on my tongue. You’ve been so good lately.”

You keened at the praise.

“I think it’s time you rode. I love seeing you balls deep. How do you like the sound of that?”

“Yes, yes,” you agreed quickly.

The vibrator was gone and you sighed at how empty you felt. But you knew that would not be for long. Nat hovered over you, an arm wrapping around you as she planted her lips to yours. Her lips were plush and you fell into the kiss desperately.

“Sit up,” she ordered against your lips.

You followed her guidance, her arm still wrapped around your middle.

She reached from beside her and brought the dildo up, pressing it to your lips. You parted your lips around it in obedience, causing her to smile.

“God, can’t imagine what lucky guys have had their cocks in your mouth. I know how good it feels on me but that’s just gotta be a whole different sensation.”

She urged you back and she planted the dildo on the floor between the two of you, it suctioned tight.

“Show me what a good cockslut you are and tomorrow I’ll do you myself with the new strap on.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, the thought of her driving into you and smacking your ass. You angled yourself over it, biting your bottom lip as it sunk into you.

“Look at how easy you’re taking that! My perfect little slut!”

You sunk all the way, full of the dildo. That is when Nat turned on the vibration for it and you let out an obscene groan. Your legs shook in pleasure. You slowly began to rock, moaning as you built your speed, your eyes closed.

“Oh, baby, you’re gonna be so sore, aren’t you? That hot tub is gonna feel so good on your aching pussy isn’t it? You’re earning it the way you’re fucking right now.”

You sunk to the bottom again and let out a shuddered cry. God, you loved feeling this full with the toy vibrating inside you. Nat leaned forward, taking the opportunity to suck at your tits, her tongue swirling around your nipples. You wished she would not stop but she pulled away again, a wicked smirk on her face, eyes blazing.

“How about the real thing?” She cooed before she called towards the door, “Tony. I know you’re out there. Wanna take Y/N for a spin?”

Tony?

<><><>

Tony froze mid stroke. He had broken the more he watched, his cock leaking precum in his hand. Through his lustful haze of mind, he debated about tucking tail or trusting Nat was not about going to kick his ass with this bait she was offering. Granted, if he ran, she would probably still kick his ass.

<><><>

Your eyes widened when the door nudged open, Tony walking in. You could clearly see his length in his thin sweats.

Nat kissed you roughly and said, “Look at that, you little siren. All those sexy moans you were calling out got a response.” To Tony, she said, “Well?”

You looked at him, eyes hooded as the toy still vibrated, you rocking your hips slowly. He licked his bottom lip, lust apparent.

Nat flicked at your nipples. “She’s already warmed up. So wet and hot… ready for you and that big dick of yours.” To you, she said, “Aren’t you, baby? You want Tony to fuck you? Make you see stars?”

That did sound good, a real dick. And especially his. You nodded enthusiastically at her.

“Yes, please.”

“So polite,” Nat praised. “You hear that, Tony?”

“Fuck yeah, I did,” Tony responded, finally speaking, going to undress himself. You bit your lip, seeing his cock spring free from his sweats.

You found yourself moving as soon as the dildo was gone and swinging your leg over Tony as he was lying on the ground waiting in earnest. Natasha moved forward and made eye contact with Tony. Running her fingers through your wet folds and mixing it with his precum, she pumped her closed hand up and down his shaft. His breath was shallow, transfixed at the sight of her.

“Show him how good you are, sweetling,” Nat encouraged you and you adjusted forward, hovering as she guided his dick to your entrance, and you took him. Nat was right; you were ever so ready, taking him deep and quick. And you were going to be perfect for him.

Hands planted on his chest, you worked yourself up to bouncing. He was so thick.

“Oh god,” you whined, fingernails digging into his chest, causing him to hiss.

“You feel so fucking good!” Tony husked, laying a rapt smack on your ass and you practically melted.

He pulled you closer, his mouth coming to your breasts, kissing and sucking in earnest all over your chest. He bucked his hips, driving until he was full inside and you gasped.

“Goddamnit,” he said breathless, before sucking a nipple into his mouth roughly once more, and then lying back down.

You resumed your own pace, quicker this time. He was getting close, you could tell by the lewd noises falling from his lips and how tight he was holding you. And so were you.

Nat was barely refraining from sinking her fingers into her own sex watching the two of you. She was not above caressing her breasts though, her eyes fixated on the sight in front of her.

“Fuck, look at my good girl riding like a champ.”

Tony slapped your hip repeatedly, groaning, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna come. Up, up!”

Nat’s hands came down on your shoulders just as you stalled to try to do what Tony was asking. Tony stared up at you feeling you not moving and his eyes snapped to Nat over your shoulder.

“She’s on the pill, don’t worry, Tony. Come on, I know you wanna fill her all the way up. Who wouldn’t wanna cum inside my good girl?” Nat practically purred, one hand coming down to squeeze at your nipple and you whined, your cunt clenching around Tony.

That caused him to groan his fingers digging into your skin.

“Use her. She’s all yours. A perfect doll for you to blow a load into,” Nat pushed him and you did not miss the lust flash in Tony’s eyes at that.

Tony resumed thrusting roughly without warning, throwing his head back, all argument gone. You bounced on top of him, broken whines escaping as he fucked you good and raw. He was hitting your spot and your head dangled, letting him have complete control.

He came inside you with long groans, his cock twitching, the stimulation pushing you over the edge as well drawing a pleasured grunt from him as you tightened.

After a few moments, his hands went lax and brushed down your thighs as he brought them up to rub at the sheen of sweat on his face. You sat up straight, him still fully seated inside you. He met your eyes and you were unsure what to say.

Nat had no problem breaking the silence by saying, “Well, I’m turned on by this drastic change in things. This will certainly broaden our toy collection.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #tony stark x reader #marvel smut #my shit

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

erode

Neil x Reader

summary: this is what happens when you try to cope with immense heat for way too long plot what plot

warnings: 18+ and I mean it, nsfw, teasing, temperature play (listen, I don’t even know, blame it on the weather)

author’s note: I wanted to make it short. They had other ideas. Result? Basically 2,9k words.

I started writing with no particular duo in mind. And at some point I stopped and smiled.

Hello you two, it’s been a while.

(f!Reader)

The song for this fic is TENDER - Erode

Anyway, enjoy! ...and let me know what you think, please?

---

“This heat is absurd,” you huff as you flip the pillow to the other side, hoping to find even a degree cooler fabric there.

The cold shower you’ve taken half an hour ago feels like a distant dream, and you’re already drenched in sweat, trying to position yourself strategically to get the most of the small fan placed near the bed. With those crazy temperatures, the chance of getting a stiff neck on the next day seems like a risk worth taking.

“I think I was supposed to kick you in the shin for complaining about warmth,�� chuckles Neil and puts down a glass of water on the nightstand, the ice cubes clinking softly. “You're lucky it’s too hot to do so.”

You knit your brows together. It takes you a moment to remember, but then it hits you and you groan. Of course, he brings back something you said during that painfully long stakeout on a freezing December night.

“Why can’t it be just pleasantly warm instead of a variation on The Song of Ice and Fire,” you sigh, taking off the t-shirt. “Fuck climate change deniers, there’s nothing temperate about this climate we’re living in anymore.” You fall back on the pillow, limbs in disarray, longing for a shred of comfort.

With the corner of your eye, you see Neil’s gaze flitting through your body, focusing on the only article of clothing for a second longer.

“You’re one sexy creature.”

His words carry an amused smile and you glance at him, scoffing in disbelief.

“Even when I’m spread out like that?”

“Especially when you’re spread out like that,” he says, moving closer. “Giving me all sorts of ideas”

He leans in for a kiss, but you place a hand on his bare chest, stopping him an inch away.

“Too hot.”

Neil stifles a giggle.“Hot damn?” he chokes out, and you glare at him, but your lips twitch in a smile of their own accord.

“When the temperature drops, I’m gonna give you that hallelujah, or so help me-”

“Promises, promises.” He beams. “I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to give that little sauna fantasy a test run.”

The sole thought of a sauna threatens your sanity right now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” A wicked grin creeps on his face. “Or let me just--”

Neil turns away and reaches for the water again, then finishes it with one swig. He nibbles on the bottom lip, clearly excited, as his long fingers fish out a single ice cube from the glass. The blue eyes light up with roguish sparks when he looks at you. Neil quirks a brow in a silent question, and you nod as your pulse picks up the pace.

He closes his hand on the ice for a moment, then slides the cube to his other palm. You sigh with relief as he runs cold and wet fingers across your forehead, then lets them comb your hair, keeping the wild strands away from your face. A soft smile taints his lips as he moves a bit closer, keeping enough distance so the almost feverish warmth of your bodies wouldn’t override everything else. He steals a quick kiss and then he smirks, rolling to the side and propping the head on his knuckles. His darkened gaze glides over your features, taking in the views and inevitably plotting your demise at the same time.

You swallow with effort as the shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

The ice cube touches the tip of your nose playfully. You are about to huff, but then Neil moves his hand lower and starts slowly tracing the outline of your parted lips, and you can only gasp. Your heat-hazed mind is defenseless, so you close your eyes, allowing yourself to focus solely on the sensation. The dissolving ice trickles down your cheek, the cold droplet tickles and makes you yelp, but when it reaches the neck, Neil shifts and his warmth floods you. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he licks off the wet trail and sucks on that little spot right under your ear. You whine and inhale sharply, ready to protest the sudden closeness, but you hesitate, torn between getting closer to your personal melting point and already craving for more.

Before you can make up your mind, Neil moves away, a smug smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. A tip of his tongue darts through his lips as he catches the exasperation in your stare.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he purrs and shushes your comeback by simply gliding the ice cube to your chin and down your throat.

Your head arches back and you draw a shaky breath, but the cold point travels lower, skates between your breasts, through your stomach, around your belly button, and moves back up. You glance down, transfixed on the slender fingers holding the glimmering cube.

“All right?”

The husky question commands your attention back to his face. Neil studies your expression closely and a flash of fondness strikes your racing heart.

You smile and your hand flies to cup his cheek, “Yeah, it’s -- oh god,” you groan as the ice flicks your nipple. Neil chuckles and props himself on the elbow so he can pin your hand over your head in one swift move. “Concern as a distraction? How sneaky of you,” you pant, glaring at the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It worked, innit?” he says and the mischievous lights dance in the blue eyes as they drop back to your chest. You follow them just to see him cruising the ice cube through your breasts, how your nipples harden when it circles them, again and again until you tremble and squeeze your thighs together, biting back a needy moan. “Look at you, squirming already,” he murmurs, amused.

It’s hard to think, let alone form a coherent sentence, so you just glower and grit your teeth. Neil interlocks his fingers with yours, inching closer, and places a small, reassuring kiss on your shoulder. Then, he palms over the cube and carries on. The warmth and pressure of his hand mix with the coldness of the melting ice, and you sigh and lean into his touch, not mindful of the water dribbling down your sides to the sheets.

He traces the curves and flats of your body. Unhurriedly, but persistently moving lower. Grazes the hip bones, then slides along the hem of your panties. You close your eyes as your thighs come together again, trying to control the bucking hips.

He tightens the hold on you as his hand bearing the ice cube moves to your knee.

Neil’s warmth envelops you once again and he whispers into your ear. “Open for me.”

The request wiping any resolve left in your brain and rushing to your pulsing core. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and comply, earning a pleased hum from Neil.

“Good girl,” he rasps as his hand continues its journey upwards.

“Neil--”

Your weak plea only evokes a throaty chuckle, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He knows what he’s doing. What praise like that can do to you. You see it in his predatory gaze, how he enjoys watching you fall apart. And he still is about to touch you where you need him most.

Neil smacks his tongue. “Not so patient today, are we, my love?” he teases, guiding his large hand up and down your inner thighs slowly.

You want to groan in frustration. You want to shut him up with a hungry kiss. You want him. But instead, you muster some of the strength you have left to control yourself, not willing to give him too much satisfaction. Not yet anyway.

He catches the determined look in your eyes and raises a brow. A corner of his mouth curls and you know that the game is on.

Neil hooks his thumb over a band of your underwear. “May I?”

“By all means,” you breathe out and he lets go of your hand so he can pull your panties down and position himself between your legs.

“Christ, how I adore this view.” He flashes his teeth in a brief smile, his features soften when his gaze meets yours. The extent of love and admiration you see there makes your stomach do a somersault. “You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly and the heart sings in your chest. Then, just when you let your guard down, the blue eyes get dark and yearning. “And mine,” he adds as his knuckles resume the caress.

The pure whiplash from his actions shuts your brain down. You whimper and your whole body tenses when the sleek cube glides over your folds. The cold water joins your own wetness. Your head falls back. The heat that is rushing through your veins has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, but it pearls your temple with sweat just the same. A short pause forces you to look down and you catch the wicked grin forming on Neil’s lips. Your end is inescapable.

You watch as Neil puts the ice cube in his mouth and your eyes widen in sudden realization. He dips his head and then swirls his tongue around your clit and you almost cry out, clenching your fists on the sheets. Hot. Cold. Both at the same time. The pulse pounds in your ears as you walk the line, bold strokes and quick flicks driving you to the edge of sanity. His hand moves up your body, partly to hold you in place. But also to add the fuel to the fire that slowly consumes you. You melt into his touch. You moan. And then he slides his finger inside you and reality begins to crumble.

“Oh yes--” you whine, pushing against his hand. “Please.”

You feel him smile against you and the second finger enters you, then they curl slightly and set the rhythm. You roll your hips and reach down to tug at the golden strands, the only praise you’re capable of right now. Neil’s groan vibrates through you, pushing you to the brink of resolution. And then his mouth envelopes you and he sucks on your clit. The pleasure sears your every nerve, tipping you over, and you arch your back and come with a loud moan. You ride out your high, trembling underneath him, digging your fingers into his arms and then pulling on them, driven by a different kind of need. Neil understands and crawls back up to you, licking your wetness off his lips on the way.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing his knuckles against your cheek tenderly and falls on the pillow next to you.

You nod, still incapable of putting words together. Placing the hand on the back of his neck, you urge him closer and kiss him, grunting softly. It’s hard to level your breath like this, making that act of devotion somewhat sloppy. Neil strokes your hair, deepening the kiss just barely. Fixed on bringing you comfort, first and foremost.

And when you pull back, it’s the eyes that betray him. Full of fondness, yes, but also overcast with desire.

How fortunate you already have an idea how to repay him. Not that he expects it - he would never. But he was so rude, teasing you like that.

And you want payback.

You smile and push him back on the mattress to reach over him to his nightstand. You fish out the biggest of the leftover ice cubes from the glass.

Neil shifts upwards slightly, leaning back on his elbows. His mouth parts as he spots your impish grin.

“Oh.”

“Come on, you really thought I’d let that slide?” you say as you straddle him, batting the eyelashes. You look at the glimmering crystal in your hand, then back at him, raising a brow. “Actually--”

You close your fist and move it over Neil’s chest, and he squirms as the cold droplets fall on his skin. You stare at the way his muscles tense when the water trickles down his toned stomach, and a new wave of excitement washes over you.

You lean on to lay a kiss on his lips, this time a more eager one. Neil sighs when your tongue glides against his and you giggle, breaking the contact. Your noses brush together as you exchange greedy looks, barely containing the animalistic need slowly clouding your minds.

“Not so patient, indeed,” you hum, tipping his chin up with your finger so you can suck on his jaw, letting the hand with the cube ghost over the same spot on the other side. Neil shivers and groans in a way that only boosts your confidence. Your mouth travels down his neck, continuing to play a hot-and-cold mirror game with your hand. You pull back as your eyes follow the wet trails again. Your tongue meets the next one halfway and moves up the chest until it lands on the source of the mess. You look up and you see the blue eyes trained on you, so you smirk, hiding the piece of ice in your mouth the same way Neil did not long ago.

The cube pokes from between your lips as they venture across the body you know so well, but rediscover as you learn its reaction to the new sensation. The goosebumps. The way it trembles. The grunts and gasps that follow. You stop just to get rid of the navy boxer briefs on your way.

The sight ever so gratifying.

Neil’s chest heaves as you start stroking him lightly, but it is when you take his tip in your mouth when Neil moans, sending your heart racing again. You taste and tease him until you hear a stifled curse. Then you drop the ice cube into your hand and you rub it up and down slowly, going back to twirling your tongue over him at the same time. Neil jerks, inhaling sharply and lets out a guttural groan.

“How’s that for a payback?” you ask smugly, enjoying how it takes a moment for him to focus his sight on you.

You recognize the predatory gaze a second too late.

Neil shifts and the next thing you know you end up pinned to the bed.

“Wanna play like that?” he rasps, hovering over you with a sinister grin.

You roll your hips against him, eyes lighting up at the sound of a growl building in his throat.

“Just take me already.”

He crashes his lips on yours and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly. Then, he flips you to your side so you're facing the running fan and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing himself to your back. The moving air against your body helps, but you're way past caring about overheating now.

Neil brushes your hair away so he can kiss the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, his other hand travels south, and you hook one leg over his, squirming impatiently.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathes into your ear, but before you can assure him how mutual the feeling is, he thrusts into you and you moan together, melting further into each other.

But instead of setting a pace, the reckless fingertips trail between your legs again to rub small circles against your clit, and soon enough you whimper as you clench around him. More. Neil bites on your shoulder and groans, finally giving you what you need. What he needed, too. You bury your fingers in the blonde mane. Tugs urging a quicker pace. You close your eyes, climbing the peak again. His touch roams through your body, and then his rhythm falters, and you take his hand in yours and press it to your chest, lacing your fingers together.

I’ve got you.

Neil tenses and hides his face in your neck, gasping frantically, pulling you as close as he can. His high pushes you over the edge and you join him in the rhapsodic release, losing yourself in the pleasure. In the strong embrace. In him.

When reality regains its sharpness, you shift in Neil’s arms to face him. The warmth of affection spreads through you when you meet the hazed gaze. You smile softly as your fingers trace his features. Parted lips. Sharp jawline. The brows, still knitted together. Your heart aches from fondness when you fix the golden strands stuck to his forehead.

Happy lights dance in the blue eyes and Neil chuckles, panting lightly. You kiss him, then hug him tightly, not mindful of the heat. Of the sweat. There’s only a heavy heartbeat against your cheek. His scent, ingrained deeply in your mind. The slow, calming strokes on your back. Bliss.

“At least with a sauna we’d have a barrel with icy water, you know,” Neil points out casually. “Or even better - a pile of snow.”

“Oh my god,” you snort, pulling back to look at him. “Imagine that,” you sigh as the heat suddenly hits your senses twice as hard.

He grins, taking you by the hand, and places a small kiss on your knuckles. “May I interest you in a very cold shower instead?”

The corner of your lips twitch.

“Lead the way.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #robert pattinson #neil tenet imagine

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detectivehannibal · 3 years

Text

Pretty as a Picture

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of smut.

A/N: Why do I keep disappearing from this blog?? I’ve had this idea for FOREVER. Fun fact about me, I sometimes recycle my works from other blogs. So if you’re curious, this is from my Harry Potter blog @seriouslysnape and here’s the original work.

Word Count: 1,738

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.”

On the surface, surprises don’t really seem to come to mind when you think about Hannibal Lecter. The esteemed psychiatrist always came off to you as an open book. He was usually willing to share all aspects of his life with you, which naturally left you believing that there weren’t any secrets lurking further within himself.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Despite all the things that you didn’t know about Hannibal, you knew him well enough to know the sorts of things that he has a fancy for and the things he doesn’t. As high maintenance and temperamental as he is, he is shockingly easy to please. It’s a bit of an ironic statement, but still the truth nonetheless.

You could gift Hannibal with something as simple as a pair of socks or with something as extravagant as a brand new luxury suit, and he’d always have the same genuine, appreciative reaction. If something came from you, he would surely love it with his whole heart.

This gift, however, was on a whole new level.

The idea had honestly come to you at random when you were brainstorming birthday present possibilities. Even though he would never admit it, he was a bit bored of you buying him a new tie for every occasion. He had a tie for every color, pattern, and even he could ever dream of. You wanted to think outside of the box this time. You wanted to come up with something that he would never ever think of.

On the flip side, you also wanted to be sure that it was something that he could have for a long time and something that would have some real meaning to him. You could always go down the culinary appliance route, but he already had absolutely everything he’d ever possibly want or need. You were in a bit of a rut, but that’s when you got a wonderful thought.

Hannibal didn’t own many personal pictures. Most of the photos in his house were custom made art pieces that were worth more than the price of your left leg alone. Hannibal never struck you as the kind of man to have plethoras of pictures of loved ones, but you still found it odd. It’d be a win-win in your eyes. You’d supply Hannibal with some photos to hold on to, and it’d be a thoughtful gift.

Then your plan took a sultry turn.

You had picked out a large photo album that would match the aesthetic of his house, and an album that would have plenty of pages to fill up. You kept it stashed away in your closet until you were ready to put pictures inside of it when another idea came to mind.

What if you made a sexy photo album for him?

At first, you were a little sheepish at the idea. Boudoir style pictures showing off only the dirtiest of contents? It seemed like that might be too much and even a bit weird. The longer you thought about it, though, the more and more the idea sounded good. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t necessarily jump at the gift, but at least he’d have something to jerk off to when you weren’t around.

You assembled as many outfits as you could, some coming from your personal collection and some were purchased as a specialty to the production of the photos. You’d need some help actually having the photos taken, which is why you recruited one of your closest friends.

You could’ve had them professionally done, but you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with a photographer and group of modeling experts studying over your naked body for an entire day. Your friend was stoked for the project and dedicated a whole afternoon while Hannibal was at work to help you out.

You took probably about a hundred pictures, all with varying poses, outfits, and locations around the house. You even took a few more innocent photos of you just smiling or doing candid things. You figured that you needed some sweet to balance out the spicy.

You decorated the pages to add some pop and flare, ultimately thrilled with the final product. Hannibal’s birthday was only a few days away, and you were itching to show him what you had made for him.

“You’re fidgety tonight.” Hannibal spoke from where he was laid out underneath you on the living room sofa.

It was true, you had been extremely jittery for the last hour and a half, trying to compose yourself. Hannibal had told you that he had wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening in for his birthday, which you found as a blessing because he’d definitely want to stay around the house after seeing his gift.

“Sorry. Just excited.” You admitted, seeing this as the perfect opportunity.

He raised a brow, looking down at your frame that was practically trembling with explosive animation.

“I feel as if I don’t need to inform you that my birthday comes around every year,” He joked; “What’s gotten you so elated?”

You smiled up at him with a brightness that was almost blinding. You scrambled off of the sofa at your cue.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” You announced as you dashed up the stairs.

Hannibal chuckled to himself, already guessing as to what you were plotting. You returned shortly after with the picture book in hand, complete with a bow on top. You sat with your legs crossed in front of him, eagerly handing it to him.

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.” You explained.

Hannibal sat up from where he was settled into the cushions, eyeing over the cover carefully. It was a beautifully crafted book, the dark leather was absolutely gorgeous. He pushed the bow off of the sides, opening to the very first page to see a sweet note you had written him, signed with your signature and all. He turned to the first page to actually contain photos on it, and a smile of pure joy spread on his face.

You had put all of the non-sexual pictures in the first two pages to disguise the actual reason for the book. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different casual outfits and in different places.

“Darling, these are wonderful,” He complimented; “They’re stunning, they-”

His heartbeat quickened when he made it to the third page, and he noticed they had taken on a new theme. The scandalous photos were enough to knock him speechless. For the first time ever, you saw Hannibal’s cheeks break out into a deep blush. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing one of his white work shirts with all the buttons undone. The only thing you were wearing underneath was one of his ties settled between your breasts.

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, red colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and you went back to your original worry that this was a bad idea. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling, because Hannibal Lecter always had something to say.

Your voice was thick with uncertainty as you spoke to break the silence.

“Hannibal, do you...like them?” You wondered aloud.

His eyes never steered clear from the book in his hands and the photos presented in front of him. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on the massive kitchen counter and giving a look so seductive that it made his belly flutter. The sight of you naked in his culinary world where he spent so much time was a sight to behold.

“[Y/N], I love them. These photographs...they’re beautiful, well produced, and so, so sexy.” He breathed out.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of anticipation as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, his hot blush growing even deeper onto his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming dirtier than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

His lips parted slightly ajar as he loomed over them. Your waiting was patient as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. Your suspicions had been correct after all.

He was going to rock your world.

Hannibal usually didn’t try to make the first move. He always wanted you to initiate sex first. He believed that sex was a passionate, romantic connection that shouldn’t always be fueled by burning want and desire from outside resources. Based on the way he was looking at you though, you could tell that he wanted you BADLY.

He nonchalantly rolled his hips forward to create some kind of friction. The sneaky grin on your face was almost maddening. The way that your body leaned in and your lips brushed over his just ever so was intoxicating. Your lips traveled to his ear as you purposefully let out a wanton moan to tantalize him.

“Touch me, Hanni. I know you want to.” You coaxed.

That was all he needed.

Hannibal lunged forward, smothering your body with his and suffocating you with hot kisses. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you.

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those outfits under this sweater?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. When Hannibal didn’t want you to go anywhere, then you wouldn’t. You bit down on your lip in a seductive way, breathing out your response to send him into full on love making mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x female reader #hannibal lecter x reader imagine #detectivehannibal

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

Walburga Comes for Dinner (one shot)

Regulus Black AU

Summary: Walburga comes for dinner and sees her children for the first time in a very long time. (goes with the Dinner with the Dursleys and Tuesday night dinner one shot...see below for links)

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: T

Dinner with the Dursleys

Tuesday Night Dinners

_______

This will be interesting…

That was the thought that went through your mind when Regulus stepped through the front door after a long day at work. Joanna immediately waddled over to her father, hopping up and down screaming “daddy” until he was able to get his coat off and pay attention to the child.

“Good, Joanna. Get him buttered up.”

You thought as Regulus came into the kitchen snuggling his face against Joanna’s head.

“You look pretty, darling.’’

Regulus commented, looking you over. He was ready for nothing more than a quiet Thursday night. By quiet this meant having dinner, giving Joanna a bath, getting the child in bed without her needing twenty hugs while making Regulus look for a random spider under her bed that she was convinced would eat her toes, and alone time with you. People at the Ministry were driving him batty and Regulus didn’t have the patience for any calamities that night.

“I’m pretty too.”

Joanna said in an extra sassy tone that earned a smile from Regulus.

“Of course you are love. You’re the prettiest little girl ever. Why don’t you go play with your dollhouse?”

Joanna, appeased with Regulus’ comment, didn't fuss when he put her down. She toddled off. Regulus waited until Joanna was quietly amused before wrapping his arms around you.

“Now, as I was saying, you look beyond pretty...absolutely ravishing is more like it.”

You relaxed in Regulus’ arms enjoying the moment of quiet uninterrupted alone time. As much as you didn’t want to, you knew that you had to break the news to him.

“Guess who is coming to dinner?”

“Merlin, I don’t feel like entertaining.”

Regulus groaned. You had expected this reaction. Things were only about to get more interesting.

“It’s your mother.”

Regulus’ mouth dropped. He hadn’t seen his mother in ages. She wasn’t there when Joanna was born or through your pregnancy. Walburga had sworn that she would never speak to Regulus as long as he was married to “that mudblood girl.” Regulus was just fine with his mother’s promise. He had no use for the woman if she was going to insult his wife. All Regulus needed to be happy was Joanna and yourself. Walburga no longer fit into the equation of his life. When Regulus stopped believing in the “Black family way” he realized how messed up everything truly was.

“Why?”

Regulus said, crossing his arms over his chest. You put down the bowl that you were holding. To say that you were looking forward to meeting Walburga was a far stretch. You would much rather it be your mother and father coming for dinner.

“She wants to see you. I suppose she’s feeling guilty about not seeing Joanna yet. Maybe she even feels a bit guilty because she is getting old and has no son to look after her now that your father is dead.”

Regulus mumbled something under his breath before going off to search for the bottle of fire whiskey. He needed some liquid motivation if his mother was going to be stepping foot inside of his home.

“She can go to a home for the elderly. I am not looking after her. I was the good son long enough.”

Regulus commented before smiling coldly.

“Watch this.”

He said before picking up the muggle telephone and calling Sirius. You had picked up your teacup and were keeping an eye on your husband. He was up to something and you had a sneaking suspicion on what he was going to do

“Hey, it's me. Want to come over for dinner?I know you never wait for an invitation. See you at six.”

Regulus hung up the phone before grinning at you.

“He can’t wait to see his mother.”

You shook your head. Now things were about to be a shit show.

An hour later there was a knock at the door. Regulus stood up knowing who that was. Walburga fucking Black was back to ruin his life and cause problems.

“I’ll get it, love.”

He commented before going to the door. Walburga stood on the other side with her usual snobby expression. She forced a smile as she looked at her youngest son. Regulus was handsome and well put together as always.

“Regulus.”

“Mother.”

Regulus kept his tone cold and icy. Walburga expected Regulus’ off-putting and unfriendly attitude. She assumed that he was still angry over her calling you mudblood. In Walburga’s mind, she was correct. Her “darling boy” married a less than desirable woman and this seemed to wedge between the two.

“Come in.”

Regulus said, keeping his eyes locked Walburga’s unfriendly face. He reached out and stopped her before she was able to get too far inside.

“I’m warning you now. If you are the least bit rude to my family, I will not hesitate to throw you out.”

Walburga glared at him. She wanted nothing more than to throw a few nasty mudblood comments out but decided if she didn’t want to die alone it would be in her best interest to be decent.

“I understand.”

Walburga looked around the homey living room. The house was very nice. Clearly, Regulus was doing well for his family.

“Daddy, come play with me.”

Walburga’s head snapped up the moment she heard the little voice that she had been wanting to hear for some time. She would never admit it but she had wanted to see her granddaughter from the time that the birth announcement came in the mail. Walburga had sent Joanna an “add-a-pearl” necklace as a way to say “welcome to the world” and that was that.

Regulus never took the time to send Walburga a photo or anything. Now before her stood the most lovely child that she had ever seen (with the exception of Regulus, of course).

Walburga watched as Regulus bent down to pick the little girl up. Joanna’s raven curls wildly fell down her back as she pressed her face into her father’s cheek. It wasn’t until Joanna pulled away from cuddling Regulus did she notice the new face in the room. She looked at Walburga carefully. Clearly, the little girl was well versed in “not talking to strangers.”

“Joanna, this is your grandma.”

Walbruga forced a small smile as Joanna put her head on Regulus’ shoulder.

She’s shy...just like he used to be.

Watching Regulus with Joanna, made Walburga’s heartache. Had she really lost so much time with her own son? While Walburga had wanted no part of being a mother originally, after losing Sirius then Regulus walking away for a muggle-born she realized how much that she actually loved her children.

“You can sit down, mother. I’m going to check on Y/n.”

Walburga immediately did as her son said as Regulus sat Joanna down.

“Keep grandma company.”

Regulus said softly. Part of him was screaming about leaving his darling baby alone with the hateful old woman but he knew Joanna would cause Walburga more annoyance. That in itself would be amusing enough. Besides, from his place in the kitchen door, Regulus could see the two perfectly.

You had just pulled the ham out of the oven when Regulus stepped into the room.

“Everything okay?”

You questioned. Regulus shrugged.

“She just walked in the door and I already feel like the love has been sucked out of me.”

You put the oven mitts down and wrapped your arms around Regulus’ shoulders. Kissing him softly, you chose to ignore Walburga who was watching the whole thing.

“I’ll suck something else out of you later.”

You said in a low suggestive tone. Regulus slightly blushed to know exactly what you meant and he would argue.

“That sounds tempting. We can throw her out, put the baby in bed, and have all evening alone.”

Before you could respond the back door opened and closed. Sirius stepped into the kitchen and smirked looking at Regulus and yourself.

“It's a wonder I only have one niece. The way you two snog there should be three or four kids running around here.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“One is enough. What about your love life?”

Sirius’ amused expression faded.

“Moony can’t get pregnant.”

Regulus put a hand over his face while you quietly laughed.

“How are we related?”

Regulus questioned as Sirius moved to go into the living room to see what his precious little niece was up to. He froze the moment that he saw the biggest demon from hell parked on his little brother’s couch talking to Joanna.

“Oh hell no.”

Sirius snapped before turning to make a line for the door but was stopped when Regulus brought him to the ground.

“If I’m stuck with her then you should be too.”

Sirius fought the urge to scream.

“You’re just evil!”

“Is everything alright in here?”

Both Sirius and Regulus got off of the kitchen floor as Walburga came in. Her cold grey eyes locked on her eldest son. The disappointment returned in full force as she looked between both Sirius and Regulus. While Regulus was dressed in a nice suit, Sirius looked like he had just gotten out of bed in tight clothing that he had worn for a few days.

“Sirius.”

“Walburga.”

Sirius decided not to call her “mum” to antagonize her. Regulus fought the urge to put a hand over his face as he remembered you standing beside him.

“Mum, this is my Y/n.”

Walburga’s vulture-like gaze turned to you.

So this is the girl that stole my baby from me.

Walburga thought before muttering a quiet and unfriendly hello. You only nodded. It was probably best that you kept your mouth shut. You were afraid that you would start going off on the woman for the way that she did both of her sons.

“Uncle Siri!”

Sirius had to tear himself away from watching you plot evilly as Joanna came running to him holding her hands out. He quickly reached down and scooped Joanna up, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Jojo, where have you been all of my life?”

“In the living room. Did you bring me my pony?”

Sirius laughed as Regulus immediately started shaking his head.

“Do you want your daddy to kill me?”

“No, daddy wouldn't notice it if you stuck it in the back garden and tied it to a bush.”

Joanna commented, adding a sneaky little blink. Sirius laughed again.

“First things first, sugar, your daddy is standing right over there and can hear. Let's get you ready to eat.”

Dinner started off smoothly. You tried to speak quietly to Walburga but were only getting one or two-word responses. If you needed any more proof that your mother-in-law didn’t like you...this was it. You could feel Regulus tense beside you.

“It's okay, love.”

You whispered quietly as Sirius leaned back in his chair. He gave you an eyebrow wiggle before speaking.

“So, mum, what got you out of the stone-cold manor? Did you get that steak out of your heart finally? You have surely missed a lot of Joanna’s life...although she doesn't look very concerned.”

Joanna was happily ignoring everyone and nibbling on her little plate of noodles. She didn’t seem the least bit concerned with anything that was going on around her.

“That’s very amusing, Sirius. I thought that the two of you should know that I am remarrying.”

Both Regulus and Sirius dropped their forks as your eyes rolled up, clearly shocked.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Regulus questioned. Sirius started laughing so hard that he had to put his head down.

“Is the guy desperate or already on the verge of death? Did you meet him on evil witch weekly’s personal page?”

Walburga frowned. This was clearly not the reaction that she expected. She had planned on Regulus being a little more supportive than her elder son.

“You’re not funny, Sirius. I decided to meet someone who enjoys my company?”

Sirius snorted.

“Does he enjoy you smacking him around or just ignoring him like you did dad?”

Walburga put her fork down.

“Regulus, do you have anything to say?”

Regulus chuckled. This whole situation was completely ludicrous.

“I thought that you only loved yourself.”

Walburga stood up and threw her napkin down on the table.

“I thought that I would get some support from my son. I didn’t come here to be made a fool.”

Walburga turned and stormed from the house without another word. Joanna was the next to speak.

“Granny needs a nap.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to take his plate to the sink.

“Sure does, Jojo, a nice nap in a big wooden box...six feet under. Who wants cake?”

_________

@amelie-black @vixen @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @acciosiriusblack @fific7 @jessyballet @knreidy1 @wolfstar4lifee @saturntomars @sxsalvatore @georgeweasleydumbhoe @zievyimas @buttercup-beeee @justfinishthis @vvipgot7be @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @siriuslyceleste @dumybitch @quuenofblacks @lucasfilms77 @spiderxalmighty @moonythemilf @fangirlforever2412 @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @li0nh34rt @tas898 @deanwherescas @untoldshortsofthefandoms @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @sprnaturallover @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner @rubyroscoe1 @hazncalsgal

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codenamesazanka · 4 years

Text

TOGA!

and the answer she’s looking for: a very long ramble.

Toga! Toga Himiko! Her quirk lets her transform into anyone she wants, provided she’s got their blood. When she was 14, she reportedly stabbed a classmate she had a crush on to take a sip of his blood, and from then on, she’s been on the run. Spent the next two years on the streets, dodging Heroes and avoiding capture, until she joined the League of Villains. Now she’s 17 years old - still a minor, though, and that’s likely why Giran says her name has been kept under wraps, at least until Kamino:

So that’s 14+ years of her life living as a “normal” kid, going to school, having friends, living with a family— as far as we know, out of the League, Toga is the one member that had been living most adjacent to the standard norms of the world; been enculturated/socialized as a person living in a Hero society. (Shigaraki was raised from age 5 by All For One, Twice was on his own as an homeless orphan for more than half his life, Spinner was a hikkikomori, etc) She was from “the other side”, she was from the “right” side, part of the civilian population that Heroes had a duty to protect.

In other words, she would’ve learned, from an early age, that when she’s in trouble, a Hero will come save her. Heroes are good people, Heroes are there to help, Heroes protect everyone. Symbols of justice and peace, associated with fairness and kindness and all that nice stuff, etc etc. Heroes are people who save people.

So... why is Toga so scared of Heroes?

Ever since her attack on her classmate, she’s been running, desperate to avoid capture. When I say ‘desperate’, I do mean desperate.

Everyday she has had to run, and so she had to learn some street smarts, gain new skills, train her instincts. Within two years, she’s mastered her quirk and all it entails - like observing people, behaving just as the original person did or close enough, and measuring the exact amount of blood needed to finish her goal without killing the person (Camie). Within two years, she can hold her own in a knife fight and more, she has learned to be sneaky as heck and gain a frankly supernatural level of hiding, and who knows what else.

Which is understandable. She’s up against multiple Pro Heroes, which Shigaraki has said regular Villains don’t stand a chance against, probably because Heroes are trained combatants who have mastered their quirks and have years of experience. So she had to learn fast and quick. Toga says the trick is to not see the training as training - because to her, it wasn’t, it was like being thrown into a rushing river to learn how to swim or else drown.

But still— why? Why this amount of fear? Why throw her lot with Villains and the underworld at 14 years old, instead of going to juvenile court and rehabilitation?

Why in the world did she think she’ll be better off hiding among vicious, dangerous Villains than Heroes that are supposed to help her, like she’s been (supposedly, I admit) taught her whole life? Heroes, who are people who save other people.

And she’s still scared! She’s joined up with the nation’s most notorious terrorists, but she kept her wariness. Moment more Class A students - kids younger than her, still just trainees - shows up, she’s retreating, she picking flight over fight.

—saying she doesn’t want to die. It’s a statement that I think we can logically say comes from a belief of something like, “Heroes can kill me,” which then also logically means—

To Toga, getting caught by Heroes will mean she’ll be killed by them.

No, she’s not insane. No, she’s not some airheaded teenager prone to melodrama. No, she’s not a ‘psychopath’. Toga’s got some strange ideas about love, but otherwise she’s perfectly functional: she’s clever, she’s able to assess the situation and risks and act upon that information, and she’s shown to be observant and empathetic to her teammates, especially Jin. Any ‘damage’ she has isn’t from reasoning or understanding social norms and cues. She’s smart, she gets people, and she knows that as a Villain, she’s liable to be executed by a Hero. Even if that was just a fear before, she’s now seen it happen in reality to Twice.

I think we can all agree that in a civil society, people who have done wrong still deserves to have the right to due process and a trial, and not be executed right then and there on the street. That’s the agreement most societies has come to on conflict resolution - innocent until proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt, and despite what crimes you’ve committed, there’s a system to give you a fair chance for amends and atonement. Ideally, when you know you’ve done something wrong, you’ll turn yourself in because you expect to still be treated as a person and that the justice you’ll receive is appropriate. At the very least, that’s the better option than living the rest of your life on the run, always looking over your shoulder, possibly committing even more crimes because you’ve run out of options in your effort to not get caught.

But that’s not what’s happening here, with Toga. Whatever she learned from her 14 years of life in Hero Society tells her that now that she has committed a crime, a Hero will come and kill her.

And that’s kinda messed up. Why is that?

Putting aside Twice’s situation for now, we haven’t seen blatant proof of this - that if you’re a Villain, you might as well have a target painted on your head for a sniper’s bullet. What we have seen is the masses’ quick and harsh condemnation of potential criminals. Toga’s parents essentially disowned her after the stabbing incident.

But even with people who haven’t done anything wrong yet, people are so quick to judge.

“Does he even have a future?” That’s harsh, Journalist man. Bakugou’s a kid, 15 years old, he’s the victim here of a Villain plot, and here you’re talking about “no future” - meaning no career, no functional role in society, no chance for a normal life. That’s like giving him up for the dead. There’s not even a body and you’re already chipping in the words for the gravestone. Except maybe even worse, because there’s at least the courtesy to not speak ill of the dead; Villains tho, Villains are ‘bad’, ‘evil’, ‘violent’. Demon child.

What we have seen is a terrifying ostracization of anyone deemed criminal, considered acting against a Hero’s work, considered outside the norm. You’ve got people giving up on you, you’ve got your property getting vandalized—

And maybe you even eventually get a lost kid denied help for not looking like a proper victim.

If you’ve got any association with being a Villain, Heroes aren’t gonna help you. Even if that’s not true, I think people can be forgiven for thinking that from what we’ve seen. Toga certainly thinks this. Villains won’t be helped, even if they need it. That’s what she has gleaned from all her years living in Hero society; that’s what all the Heroes might do to her, if she ever gets caught, and she’s not getting caught to find out; and now that’s what she has seen, her friend dying right in front of her, killed by a Hero. Villains - and those who approach that label in any capacity - don’t get saved by Heroes; they are at best defeated, at worse killed.

So then, if Heroes are people who save other people, then who exactly are those who Heroes don’t save?

And that’s the answer she needs to know.

#nalslastworkingbraincell #Toga Himiko #Himiko Toga #bnha #mha #heroaca #long and pretentious #I’m sorry

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starlightkun · 2 years

Text

snowflake ; ayakashi ❧ doyoung [five]

❧ word count: 10.7k

❧ warnings: cursing, more fluff, more mutual hurt/comfort, kim doyoung is Hot but like not literally bc snow spirit but like he is extra sexy in this part merry christmas y’all

❧ extra info: heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories ;

there are occasional moments where the reader’s lips change colors due to being too cold and i try to avoid mentioning the specific color when i can, but when i can’t, the phrase ‘(blue/pale)’ will pop up. depending on skintone, your lips will turn different colors in the cold, so you can fill in whichever is more accurate for you at those parts!

❧ DISCLAIMER: some aspects of plot and character traits are directly lifted from the otome game ayakashi: romance reborn and utilized in the character equivalents in this story; the base lore, plot, and characters were heavily inspired by the game, but it has all been transformed into my own story. there are no spoilers for the game by reading this series

⤷ prologue* ⤷ prev. ⤷ next

*you need to read the prologue before reading any of the individual routes

Waking up in the morning, you found yourself still wrapped up in your cocoon, not cold at all. You’d slept through the night peacefully, not being woken up by shivers or shakes. You could feel all your fingers and toes. In fact, you were just a little too warm. Sunlight streamed in through the window, hitting the form of the still sleeping Doyoung in such a way that he seemed to be glowing. He was still on his side, facing you, the arm on the bottom stretched out towards you, the other tucked into his chest.

An idea popped into your mind, and you eagerly went to follow through with it. Tearing away some of your blankets, you freed yourself up to sit up against your pillow, grabbing your emergency hoodie from the nightstand. You tugged it over your head, surely messing up your hair even more than sleep had. Bringing a couple of blankets with you, you inched across the bed to Doyoung’s side. More specifically, into his arms. Lifting his top arm up, you draped it over you as you tucked yourself under his chin.

A squeal escaped your mouth when his arms suddenly tightened around you and he rolled over, jerking you on top of him.

“Sneaky, hm?” Doyoung questioned you teasingly, voice thick with sleep.

“You were awake?” You squeaked out as your legs got tangled with his as well as the various blankets and sheets.

“Dozing,” he corrected you, the word punctuated by a yawn. “Warm?”

“Very,” you assured him.

“Good, then you can doze with me. Just for a bit.”

His eyes had remained shut the entire time, and at his offer, you eagerly closed your own, settling into your position. You were going to fully enjoy this moment while you could. Before either you got too cold or had to leave for breakfast.

As you laid there, feeling Doyoung’s chest rising up and down, his arms securely around you, legs laced with yours, there was an insurmountable, all-consuming feeling bubbling up within you. This one didn’t scare you, however, it thrilled you. It was definitely love, love for Kim Doyoung. But you couldn’t tell him that yet, not until you got something else off your chest first.

“Doyoung.”

“Yes?” His chest vibrated against yours.

“I have two things to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“One’s really, really good, the other is… questionable.”

You had been craning your neck to look up at him, and one of his eyes finally opened, looking at you questioningly.

“Okay…”

“I’ve got to tell you the questionable thing first then the good thing.”

“Okay…”

“Alright, so, it’s kind of a long story. Well, maybe it’s—no, it’s kind of long.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting out a shaky breath as you steeled your nerves. “Okay, so you know how my best friend Jaemin is Kun’s personal shopper?”

“Yes.”

“Back when you and I had just gone on a few dates and I didn’t really know about the cold thing, I was really concerned about why you didn’t want to touch me. Jaemin offered to tell me anything you said about me when you came into the shop. I knew you were too professional for that, but I told him to tell me anyway if anything happened to be said.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, good.”

“He called me and let me listen in on your conversation with Kun,” you blurted out in one breath, guilt swimming in your gut. Doyoung tensed up underneath you at this revelation, and you pushed forward in the story, needing to be absolutely truthful, “The day that he came in for a suit fitting, and he was talking about asking me to be his date to that gala.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Up until Kun asked Jaemin for a purple tie.”

Three entire seconds passed before your boyfriend said anything, and you were holding your breath the whole time.

“So you heard me lose my temper with Mr. Qian.”

“And that you were into me.”

“Well, that’s an understatement now,” he mused aloud, and you could feel the tension leave his muscles again.

“Are you mad?”

Doyoung gently caressed your cheek, his fingers leaving chills in their wake, “No, Y/N, I’m not mad. It must have been so frustrating for you, hearing me say that but then still being so distant with you on our dates.”

“It was,” you admitted, preening into his touch.

“So what’s the really, really good thing, then?”

Firmly planting a hand on either side of Doyoung’s head, you propped yourself up to be able to look him in the eye. He raised his eyebrows at this, amusement on his features as he patiently waited for you to speak.

“I love you, Kim Doyoung,” you declared softly.

“I love you, Y/L/N Y/N.” His cheeks flushed baby blue as he looked up at you, gaze filled with nothing but absolute adoration. “Warm?”

Knowing where this was going, you nodded, “Warm.”

Doyoung’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, guiding your face closer to his until your lips met. It was a slow, soft, and sweet kiss, reaffirming what the two of you had just said.

You reluctantly drew back when you felt the chill of the Erethulian beneath you finally seep through your blankets. Dropping a final peck to the corner of his mouth, you rolled off of him and back to your side.

“Cold.”

Doyoung nodded, sitting up and reaching over to help pull all your quilts and blankets back onto you, careful to only touch the bedding. “Get as warm as you can now, it’ll be easier to stay warm.”

You just looked up at him fondly as you watched him tuck the edges underneath you and around your head, leaving just your eyes and the tip of your nose visible. Seeming satisfied with his handiwork, his eyes finally caught yours, and a fond little smile tugged at his lips.

“What?” You asked, the word slightly muffled by the red fluffy blanket over your mouth.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, the expression never leaving his features. “I just… love you.”

An absolutely smitten grin overtook your face, definitely visible in your cheeks and eyes that were visible to him, “I love you too.”

A quiet moment passed by as you reveled in the warming feeling of loving and being loved.

“That was the first time you’d ever called me a term of endearment,” you said matter-of-factly, entirely out of the blue.

“I didn’t say anything?”

“In the Lady’s Spring, when you called me love,” you clarified, giddiness bubbling up in your chest as you said it.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth with the revelation. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you want me to keep calling you that?”

“Please.”

“Okay, love.”

Your face got hot for a moment as an absolutely lovestruck grin came to your lips. It was covered by the blankets, but you were sure he could see the crinkles around your eyes that accompanied the smile.

There was another stretch of silence as the two of you just kept looking at each other lovingly, you in your cocoon of blankets and Doyoung sitting a few inches away on the bed. He patted your legs through the blanket before moving his gaze to the window, a wordless ending of that moment.

“We have twenty minutes before breakfast. How’s your temperature?”

“Definitely warming up again. I’ll probably be good to start getting ready in ten or so.”

Your boyfriend moved back to the other side of the bed to swing his legs over the side and stand up. He took a second to stretch before walking over to the dresser.

“What do you want to wear, love? I’ll go ahead and get it out for you to minimize the amount of time that you’re without layers.”

Doyoung truly would never cease to amaze you in how thoughtful he was of you. So considerate, in his own analytic way of viewing things. You took a moment to contemplate his question before answering.

“Top drawer, fuzzy socks, the blue ones,” you instructed, and he immediately complied. Upon seizing the pair of socks in question, he turned to you with a single raised eyebrow.

“Snowflakes?”

“Wish I could say that was intentional, but all the fuzzy socks were winter-themed, so it’s just a big coincidence,” you admitted.

Doyoung’s face betrayed that he didn’t quite believe you, but he moved on nevertheless, “Okay, next?”

Finally, Doyoung had acquired and laid out your outfit for the day in such a manner that would streamline the process of getting dressed as much as possible. When he had explained it that way to you, you couldn’t help but be absolutely stricken with affection for this man. Doing something so sweet for you, but still in the way that he’d approach any task that he was given at his job: extremely organized, carefully planned, and with peak efficiency. It was so… him, and you were truly in love with him, everything about him.

“Alright, time to emerge from my cocoon,” you announced, mentally preparing yourself for the sudden surge of cold air that would be greeting you when you did so. You were going to do it as fast as possible, throwing all your covers off and exposing yourself to the cold. Like ripping off a bandaid.

“I’m going to the restroom for a moment, will you be okay out here?”

“I’m not a child, Doyoung, I can dress myself.”

“Of course. I’ll be just a few minutes.”

Your eyes followed his figure until he disappeared into the bathroom. Refocusing yourself, you steeled your nerves. One, two, three.

Fuck! That’s cold.

Doyoung’s system was rather efficient, but it was hard to appreciate it in the moment as you rushed and bumbled through all the steps with great haste. It was when you had everything on except footwear that you realized a failure in how you dictated to Doyoung, and in his process. The two of you hadn’t accounted for your lack of flexibility with all of the layers on. You couldn’t put your boots on like this. Sure, you could probably shove your feet in them standing up but tying them would be an impossible task.

With some humor and some shame in your voice, you called out, “Doyoung?”

“Yes?” His voice floated through the door.

“When you get out here, I need your help. I can’t bend over to get my boots on,” you admitted sullenly.

He sounded somewhat amused as he replied, “I’ll be out soon, love.”

“Okay.”

You sat down on the edge of the bed for one more failed attempt at doing it yourself before giving up and deciding to just patiently wait for him like that. The sound of the bathroom door opening and Doyoung’s quiet footsteps alerted you to him being back in the same room as you. Not even bothering to turn around, you joked, “It’s like I’m eight months pregnant or something, can’t even tie my own shoes.”

As his figure appeared in your peripheral vision, you looked up from your swinging feet only to immediately have your breath taken away. Doyoung was wearing an outfit just like you had seen all the other Erethulians in, but somehow even more beautiful. His was white with fine silver and gold detailing throughout that shined as brilliantly as the ice crystals that comprised the rest of it. The cloth elegantly draped over his form and as he got closer you could see the fine detail of the ice crystals, how the varying sizes were all woven together to create intricate designs along the cuffs of the long sleeves, the shoulders, and the torso, all accented with silver and gold. They reminded you of clouds, or the swirls of wind in a painting. A belt was around his waist, and the patterning on that was all sharp angles, triangles forming hexagons, all varying shades of blue.

He dropped to one knee in front of you and grabbed the first boot, holding it out expectantly. You lamely stuck out your foot for him, still taking in just how… beautiful he was.

“Wrong foot.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as you stuck your other foot out. Doyoung tugged it on, eyes focused on the task but voice teasing as he said, “You’re staring.”

“So?” You shot back, now beginning to come back to your senses.

He gave a single shake of his head and remained quiet as he laced up your boot and tied it tightly for you, then did the same with the other one.

“There,” he stood up right as there was two distinct knocks at the door. “Breakfast time. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yep,” you rose as well, stuffing your gloved hands into the pockets of your jacket. “So where’d you get the new clothes?”

“They’re not new,” he informed you, a tinge of sadness in his tone. “They’re the clothes I left Erethulia in. I just made them a bit bigger.”

Your heart hurt as you understood what had happened: he’d kept the clothes he’d run away in all these years, never quite letting go of where he had come from, who he had been. And he’d put them back on.

“Well, they look very nice on you.”

“Thanks, love. You look good too.”

“Right, thanks, snowflake.”

As you walked down the hallway beside Doyoung, you thought about how ridiculous the two of you must look as a pair. Doyoung donning a beautifully crafted, absolutely elegant robe made of millions of tiny ice crystals that glittered like it was made of diamonds, next to you, a vaguely human-shaped blob with more layers than a Jawbreaker.

“Great, you look all handsome and royal and ethereal meanwhile I’m a freaking marshmallow,” you grumbled sarcastically.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re a very cute marshmallow,” Doyoung replied simply, as blunt as ever.

“Makes me feel a little better, I guess.”

There was a gentle patting of your head, minute through your hoods, and you looked over at Doyoung through slit eyes, well aware that he was teasing you now.

The two of you left the green hall and turned into the orange hall, where you had seen Minhee, Chanshik, and Chaewon go into last night to eat. There was a doorway just past the entrance, completely open for you to walk in. Within wasn’t some grand dining hall like you had imagined. Sure, it was nice—a rather long table carved of light grey stone with a tablecloth that glittered just like Doyoung’s clothes, twenty matching chairs all around it—but not quite as royal as your brain had been hyping up. You liked this better though, humble, aside from the scale.

“Big table,” you mumbled under your breath, only then noticing the other three people that were there: Chanshik, Chaewon, and Minhee.

“Well it has to fit the entire staff and Royal Family,” Doyoung said, as if that was obvious. “Everyone in the castle dines together.”

Every detail you learned about the royalty of Erethulia painted a picture of very kind, compassionate people who were truly concerned with the wellbeing of their people, and who saw themselves as no better than anybody else. Wholly good people.

There were two empty seats at the head of the table, Chanshik caddy-corner to one, Chaewon beside him, and Minhee across from them. You figured those seats might for you and Doyoung, but still looked to your boyfriend to see what he was going to do. You weren’t about to make any sort of assumptions. With a slight grimace, he led you to that end of the table, then gestured for you to sit in the seat beside Minhee. Next, he took the other one, beside Chanshik.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Chanshik asked as more Erethulians came from an entrance off to the side, carrying dishes and cups.

“In the Yearling Quarters,” Chaewon grumbled under her breath, disapproving.

Doyoung looked at the older woman sharply, but didn’t acknowledge her and instead answered Chanshik’s question, “Yes, I slept fine. Y/N?”

“Great, I was a lot more tired from the trip here than I thought I’d be,” you replied brightly, eyes taking in all the plates being set down in front of you and the others.

“Good, good.”

The Erethulians whom you had presumed to be the kitchen staff had finished setting your five spots, as well as an additional five on the other side of Chaewon and Minhee. As they took their own seats, you realized sadly how empty the table seemed. You kept your hands firmly in your lap, hesitant to begin eating or even pick up a utensil, instead watching the others for cues about any sort of pre-meal ritual or another relevant custom.

But everybody was staring right back, looking at you almost expectantly. You looked to Doyoung for help, but it was Chaewon who answered your unspoken question.

“You are at the head of the table,” she stated, eyes boring into Doyoung.

As if he had suddenly remembered something, your boyfriend straightened up and grabbed his fork, then nudged your elbow, “Once we take a bite everyone else can eat.”

“Oh!” You rushed to pick up your own fork, fumbling for an awkward amount of time with your reduced dexterity thanks to your gloves. Looking over the options on your plate, you decided upon stabbing a slice of pear to pop into your mouth. As soon as both you and Doyoung had started chewing, conversation immediately erupted around the table as everyone began eating.

Realizing that you hadn’t properly been introduced to the girl beside you, who Doyoung wanted you to spend the morning with, you quickly swallowed your bite then turned to her.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said.

“Minhee,” she placed a delicate hand over her chest as she said her name. “It’s nice to meet you, Onmyoji.”

“So, do you work here? In the castle?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And what exactly do you do?”

“Whatever’s asked of me,” she shrugged, taking a bite before continuing. “It’s different every day. Yesterday I prepared the Evergreen Quarters. Today I’ll probably be helping Taekwoon with inventory in the kitchens.”

Minhee jabbed a thumb at the man beside her, whose attention whipped to the two of you upon hearing his name. “Hm?”

“Is it inventory day, Taekwoon?”

“Oh, yes,” he nodded before returning back to whoever he had been talking to previously.

You felt both your eyebrows raise in interest, “That takes all day?”

“Oh, no, should just be a few hours,” she shook her head. “I’m only working the morning today.”

“Ah, got it, got it. That’s nice. What are you going to do for the rest of the day, then?”

“Not sure yet. Might take a nap… or go down to the valley and draw. Or both.”

Minhee was unlike any Erethulian that you had met so far. You’d only met three, admittedly, but they had all been rather focused. Even Chanshik, who had been the brightest out of all of them. But Minhee seemed much more flexible, and altogether aimless. Very go-with-the-flow.

You were about to ask about her drawings when she spoke again.

“You should eat, Onmyoji.”

It was then that you realized you hadn’t taken a single bite since your initial one, too focused on your conversation with Minhee.

“Oh, right!”

The conclusion of breakfast was something your butt was very much looking forward to. The coolness of the stone chairs had seeped through your pants fairly early into the meal, and you made a mental note to bring a blanket to sit on next time. Minhee had just begun picking up plates and cups along with the kitchen staff when Doyoung stopped her.

“Minhee, I have a special request for you.”

She looked up curiously, handing the dinnerware to Taekwoon instead, “Yes?”

“I’d like for you to show Y/N around the castle while I attend to other matters,” he continued. “Just for the morning, you’ll still be let off at lunchtime.”

“Okay!” Her tone had some pep in it as she agreed.

“Great,” his eyes flicked over to where Chaewon and Chanshik had started walking over to the doorway that you’d used earlier before focusing them back on the younger attendant. “I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“Of course.”

“Minhee, she isn’t like you and I; her natural body temperature is much higher than ours. You have to make sure she stays warm. And if her lips turn (blue/pale), or any part of her turns (blue/pale), that’s very dangerous. If that happens, or she starts shivering, or her teeth start chattering, you take her to the Lady’s Spring. Do you understand? She can die if she gets too cold.”

“Doyoung, I’m not going to die from a shiver,” you finally interrupted his speech. “You’re scaring the poor girl. And making me sound like some delicate flower that can wilt away at any second.”

“She’s never been around anything but Erethulians before, she doesn’t know what to look for like I do. Doesn’t know how dire hypothermia is. And apparently neither do you.”

“I’ll self-regulate like normal, Doyoung,” you assured him, bringing your hands up to rub at his furrowed brow with your thumbs. It was a little awkward with the thick gloves on, but he seemed to get the point, relaxing his frown just a little bit.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He took your hands in his, bringing them up to kiss your knuckles, something you could barely feel through the material.

“Be safe, have fun. I’ll see you for lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled at him. “Have fun doing important things.”

“I have a feeling it won’t be very fun.”

“Well then I’ll just make sure lunch will be fun. I’ll brush up on my knock-knock jokes.”

Finally, a hint of a smile flickered across his lips, “Please don’t.”

You shoved on his shoulder playfully, “Rude.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Doyoung pressed a final kiss to your gloves before dropping your hands.

“Bye, snowflake,” you responded quietly, watching as he met the two at the doorway, giving you one last glance before the three of them took leave of the room. Your eyes did a double-take on a strange grey mark on the back of Chanshik and Chaewon’s necks, an inverted triangle with some kind of flower within it. They were too far away and left your vision far too quickly for you to get a better look than that. But you were pretty sure you hadn’t noticed that before.

As soon as Doyoung disappeared from your view, you shook your momentary confusion away and turned to Minhee, a mission in your mind. Doyoung had been so sure that the Chancellor had destroyed every picture of his family without even looking. You weren’t going to give up so easy. He deserves to be able to remember what his own parents look like. He deserves some kind of connection to them and to his past.

“Should we just start at the red hall and go from there?” You suggested as the two of you began your own path from the dining hall.

“The red…?” Minhee seemed confused by your phrasing for a split second before she seemed to understand what you meant. “Oh, you mean the Mono Wing?”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s called, my bad.”

“We shouldn’t go there now. That’s where the government center is located.”

“The what?”

“Where the Royal Family makes important decisions, where town halls happen, any criminal trials happen, things like that.”

“Why shouldn’t we go there now?”

“Prince Doyoung will be discussing our situation with the townspeople in there.”

As much as you didn’t want to be ignorant of the issue plaguing Erethulia and your boyfriend’s people, it didn’t sound like the kind of place that would aid in your search. So you nodded in understanding.

“Oh, and we’re in the… orange…”

“Di Wing,” Minhee corrected you at your prompting.

“Di Wing,” you repeated to commit it to memory. “I’ve seen the dining hall, could I see the kitchens? And is there anything else in this wing?”

“Just the kitchens. Come, Onmyoji, I’m sure the rest of the staff will be delighted to meet you.”

Delighted? You weren’t sure if you knew what Erethulian delight even looked like. It was an entire new culture and society for you to get used to. While Doyoung was Erethulian and had initially been cold and unemotional to you, it had faded as you got to know him better, and he was definitely the most emotionally expressive out of all of the ones you’d met: Chaewon, Chanshik, Minhee, even the brief split-second impression of Taekwoon that you’d gotten seemed to line up with them as well. He would still easily be considered reserved by human standards, but here it seemed that he was incredibly emotive in comparison. Doyoung had spent his early years in Erethulia, enough of it that he could remember some customs, but most of his formative years and most of his life had been in the human world, around humans and other Ayakashi that weren’t snow spirits. Surely that must be why he stuck out here.

You continued ruminating on this as Minhee led the way towards the kitchens.

In the yellow hall—the Tri Wing—you and Minhee took the left at the fork instead of the right, and found that it contained a large amphitheater. You had hoped that maybe the backstage area for the cast and crew would have some random nook or cranny that could have a picture of Doyoung’s family in it. No such luck.

The green hall—the Tetra Wing—was the residential wing. Some of it was already familiar to you from last night, but further down the hall also had a few guest rooms, rooms for staff members who wished to either live in the castle or needed to sleep there for some other reason, and of course the Evergreen Quarters. It was in here that you hoped some depiction of the King and Queen would have survived. No such luck, it was the most impersonal of all of the places you’d been in. Minhee explained that the Chancellor had lived here after he took over and had entirely redesigned it from when the King and Queen had been there. No way he would have left a picture of the Royal Family here.

Back in the foyer, you turned towards the next hall, the one with the sheet over it.

“That’s the Penta Wing, Onmyoji. You shouldn’t go in there,” Minhee warned you.

“Why not?”

“The Chancellor started renovating it but never finished. It’s been under construction for nearly two decades now, there’s no telling what sort of precarious state it’s in. Unstable pillars, unfinished paving, it’s hazardous.”

Under construction for two decades, seemingly abandoned for a similar amount of time. Seems like possibly the most untouched place in the castle. Perhaps your best bet. You ducked under the sheet into the hall.

The hall was as grand as every other one you had been in, despite the state of disarray of the construction equipment held within. Elaborate pillars of rock and crystal and ice loomed far above you, all in different shades of blue, from baby blue to true blue to cerulean to a deep ocean blue that you imagined could only be found elsewhere at the bottom of the sea. Ladders leaned up against many of them and some had large chunks missing. Motifs of snowflakes were carved into the parts of the walls and floors that were still intact. But these weren’t the delicate, fancy snowflakes that were typically depicted. These were all sharp angles, ending in six points that would be razor sharp if not for them being simple carvings. Dangerous but ethereal nonetheless.

“Onmyoji!” Minhee called after you. “Please, don’t go any further.”

“Sorry, Minhee,” you replied over your shoulder, sidestepping a random hole in the flooring. “Stay there if you’re worried for your safety, I don’t mind.”

“I’m worried for your safety. I was put in charge of you.”

“Then come with me!” You turned your focus upwards, taking in the beauty of the vaulted ceilings. There was another hole up there, interrupting the elaborate paintings that adorned the entirety of the surface. Light streamed in from the hole, a spotlight on you as you stood below it. A cloud passed by briefly, white and puffy. The paintings were also blue toned, reminding you of cubism in a sense. It was all angles and strong lines, continuing on with the snowflakes from the walls and floors, now given depth and contrast.

It was all so beautiful. But extrapolating from the destruction, the construction that was being done here wasn’t creating the art all around you but destroying it. You were glad that it had been halted, for whatever reason.

A stone from the mouth of the hole suddenly lost its grip and fell. Thankfully, you had been looking right as it happened, and were able to back out of the way with plenty of time. It struck the floor with a solid thud and crack. The chunk was about half your height and at least triple your width. That wouldn’t have felt nice if it had hit you.

“Onmyoji!” Minhee’s yell was followed by the sound of shoes slapping against the floor as she ran towards you.

“I’m alright, Minhee,” you announced as she skidded around another sheet to finally have you in her sight.

The girl was breathing heavily, eyes wide with concern as she rushed up to you, looking between you and the large rock almost comically. She began visibly checking you over for wounds, as if she didn’t believe you.

“I’m okay,” you reassured her once more, standing still for her to inspect you.

Her cold fingers pressed into your skin as she knocked your hoods off and tilted your head this way and that way, then grabbed your bundled-up arms and shoved your many sleeves up as far as she could to look over the skin there as well. Finally, she seemed satisfied enough to let you go, and quickly pulled your sleeves back down and your hoods back up, presumably with Doyoung’s warning about your body temperature playing in her mind.

Once she had let go of you, you continued further into the hall.

“Onmyoji, please.”

“Sorry, Minhee, but I’m looking for something.”

“What?”

You let out a short sigh, “A picture of Doyoung’s family. He has none, and he can’t remember what they look like. Nobody deserves to lose their family once to death and again to faded memories.”

“Very well,” Minhee relented, walking along with you. “I do hope you know that this may be a futile quest, Onmyoji. The Chancellor got rid of all the pictures of the Royal Family after he took over.”

“I know. But I have to try.”

Continuing down the hall, you tried to figure out what this wing’s purpose was before the Chancellor’s destruction took it out of commission. After wracking your brain, you came up with nothing.

“Do you know what this wing used to be for?” You asked Minhee, eyes scrutinizing from the floor to the ceiling, still searching.

Minhee answered almost immediately, “The arts. Drawing, painting, sculpting, carving, any fine arts that wouldn’t use the Tri Wing. It’s where I would have worked, hopefully.”

A frown came to your face at the loss of their arts center, but before you could comment on it, you spotted a door. You darted over to it, narrowly sidestepping a patch of ice. No Doyoung here to stabilize you, you had to protect yourself. The door was easy to pull open, and you found yourself in something resembling your high school art classroom. There wasn’t much left aside from the basic layout, and you hurried over to another open door that was within it, probably the supply closet. Nothing. Drawers? Nothing. Cabinets? Nothing. Everything was empty.

The next few rooms you encountered were classrooms, and just as bare as the first one.

With a hunch, you skipped over the rest of the doors, going for the very last one at the end of the hall, on your left. Inside, you felt your hope spike as you realized that this wasn’t a classroom, it was—

“A private studio,” Minhee breathed out in awe as she looked around the room.

A few random supplies were scattered around, the odd paintbrush, small tube of paint, a rag. Walking the perimeter, you stopped when you heard a hollow sound rather than the solid thump of your heavy boots on stone. Tapping it again, you looked at it closer. It was a section of floor no bigger than your hand, revealed by edges of a rug being flipped up. Except it wasn’t stone like everything else, this was ice.

“Minhee!” You called her over, kneeling down beside it. It felt sturdy when you tapped it, and there was no way you were going to be able to get this open yourself.

The girl joined you, eyebrows raising at the sight of the hidden panel, “Do you want me to remove the ice, Onmyoji?”

“Please.”

Placing her hand over it, you were amazed to see a handle materializing in her hand, firmly attached to the sheet of ice. She pulled it up with a swift motion, revealing a small storage space. And placed within that space was a small canvas, fit in at an angle. Exerting as much caution as possible, you reached in and daintily grabbed the very edge of it to bring it out. It was longer than you had anticipated, a wide rectangle. Turning it over so you could see the front, you let out a gasp.

It was a painting of three people: a man with dark black hair and stormy grey eyes that matched his salt and pepper stubble, a softness around his eyes as he looked at the two people with him; a woman with brown hair but piercing black eyes, the very corner of her mouth quirked up as she gazed at the smaller form sitting on her lap; a child, no older than primary school age, with dark black hair like his father and dark black eyes like his mother, smiling up at his father. They were all wearing white Erethulian robes, with fine detailing in silver and gold. You couldn’t even marvel at how the artist had gotten such minute detail and precision in the piece as tears brimmed in your eyes.

This was Doyoung’s family. Together, happy, in their own Erethulian way. Doyoung must have been overjoyed, to have been fully smiling. You wondered what had happened to make him that jubilant, or if it was artistic discretion.

A sudden pang of guilt formed in the pit of your stomach. You’d seen this before Doyoung had. You saw his parents before he had, you knew what they looked like before he could.

“Good thing you were persistent,” Minhee patted your shoulder, and you were surprised at the contact. You’d forgotten that she was there, honestly.

Blinking a few times to clear your eyes of your tears and your mind of your guilt, you nodded, smiling down at the painting, “Yeah. I can’t wait to give this to him.”

“It’s unfinished, though.”

“What do you mean?” The entire canvas was covered, none of them were missing any body parts, it seemed rather whole to you.

“The painter didn’t finish adding highlights. They started over here with the King, do you see?” Minhee gestured to a lock of the King's hair, then his robes, where there certainly were lighter strokes. She then pointed at Doyoung's mother, “They finished most of the highlights on the Queen, but there's none on the Prince.”

Looking at Doyoung in the painting, you saw the lack of shine on his hair like there was on his dad's, or on the tip of his nose like his mother's.

“Could you finish it?” You asked her, making her eyes widen.

“Oh no, Onmyoji, I don’t have nearly enough skill, and I’d be much too afraid of messing up such a wonderful piece. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, Minhee,” you reassured her, gaze turning fond as you looked down at the painting once more. “I’m sure Doyoung won’t care about a few missing brushstrokes.”

Right as you and Minhee emerged from the Hexa Wing—the final hall, washed with purple, and their economic center—into the main foyer, your stomach growled. You were pretty sure that you were wearing too many layers for it to have been audible to the girl with you, but you still stole a glance at her face to look for any indication that you were wrong. Then you realized how foolish you were being—she was an Erethulian.

The portrait of Doyoung’s family was tucked into the inside of your outer parka, and you patted that area to double check that it was still there.

A group of people emerging from one of the halls on your left caught your attention, and you couldn’t keep your giddy grin under control when you saw Doyoung at the front of them. Oddly, it was from the Di Wing and not the Mono Wing, where you had been told his meetings were, and he had a bag in his hand that you knew he didn’t have when the two of you split after breakfast. He met gazes with you, letting you know that he had seen you but couldn’t join you right then and there. The prince exchanged a few more words with the man he had been speaking to, both of their faces so neutral that you couldn’t tell anything about the tone of the conversation. With a final nod to each other, the man headed towards the large doorway between the Mono and Hexa Wings, only affording you a sharp side eye as he did so. You reminded yourself not to be miffed over it, he was probably just taking in your attire.

Doyoung was left talking to only two people, Chaewon and Chanshik. You’d never been given their official roles in the castle, but you could make an educated guess that they were some sort of advisors to the Royal Family. Finally, he split apart from the older Erethulians, features softening and turning relieved as he focused in on you.

“Hi,” you chirped brightly, holding one of your gloved hands out towards him.

He gladly took it in his free hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “Hi.”

There was a beat before he turned his attention to Minhee, “You’re free to go, Minhee, thank you.”

“Of course,” she nodded first to Doyoung, then to you. “I’d also like to request any future assignments like this, if Onmyoji doesn’t have any objections.”

“Of course I don’t!” You replied, truly thrilled at this apparent seal of approval from her. “I had a great time with you, I’d love to hang out again.”

The very corner of the girl’s mouth twitched for a moment, “I’m glad.”

“I’ll make sure you accompany Y/N when I can’t,” Doyoung assured her, and you felt his grip on your hand tighten minutely.

“Thank you. I’ll see the both of you tomorrow, Onmyoji, Prince.”

With that, she too took leave of the castle, leaving you only with your boyfriend now.

“You’re just making so many friends here, Y/N,” he mused, leading you towards the Tri Wing. “Only been a day and you have Minhee and the kitchen staff in your lovely, friendly, personable clutches.”

“The kitchen staff?” You questioned, taking a right at the fork with him.

“When I went in to request that they pack our lunch, they all couldn’t stop talking about you. They think you’re very cute.”

“I’m guessing in the ‘oh look at that fluffy puppy it’s so cute’ kind of way.”

“Yes, they’re all very charmed by the cute, clumsy, warm human all bundled up.”

“Glad I made a good impression. They mentioned me knocking over the jug, didn’t they?”

“They were endeared.”

“Really? Taekwoon looked like he was going to kill me.”

“Erethulians, love, we always kind of look like that.”

You studied Doyoung’s face for a moment, catching onto the smile on his lips, “You don’t.”

“I know, the human world made me all soft,” he sighed in mock wistfulness.

“You, soft? Never,” you snorted, bumping your thick shoulder against his. “By human standards at least.”

As soon as you stepped foot into the Lady’s Spring, you tensed up momentarily, all the terrible, horrible memories from yesterday washing over you again.

“It’s okay, love, I’m here,” Doyoung murmured to you as he began unzipping your outer parka for you.

The action made you let out a squeak, and you rushed to shut your parka again, “Hold on!”

“Are you not getting warm?”

“No, I am,” you shook your head, feeling sweat starting to gather under your layers. “Just… go sit down and get the food out. Don’t look over here though, okay?”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I just have a surprise for you.”

He crooked an eyebrow up but didn’t resist further, turning away from you to walk closer to the pond. With a breath of relief, you tugged off your gloves in order to properly get at the zipper of your top layer. Gingerly, you took the small canvas out of it, eyes scanning to make sure nothing had gotten messed up since you tucked it in there. It was just like before. With it set on the soft grass at your feet, you took off layer after layer until you were finally in just your pants and longsleeve. You hid the canvas behind your back as you approached Doyoung.

He was a few feet from the edge of the pond, a small assortment of food laid out in front of him.

“Can I look?” He asked, not taking his eyes away from the water as you went to stand next to him.

“Hold on,” you dropped down beside him, then leaned your cheek against his right shoulder. “Okay, you can look.”

Doyoung’s head turned so he could see you, features immediately turning tender as he went to press a kiss to your forehead.

“So what’s the surprise?”

Your heartrate rose as you sat up a little straighter, shoulder-to-shoulder with him now. Bringing the picture around to your front, you held it out above his lap, the portrait visible. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as he realized what it was, taking it with both of his hands. His right thumb traced over his mother’s cheek, and you shifted to press even closer to him.

Stroking the back of his head with a gentle hand, you murmured, “You look like your mother.”

His mouth was parted in awe, and for the first time in your life, you saw Kim Doyoung shed a tear. The glassy drop rolled down his cheek and dripped onto his forearm below. Another first, he was speechless. Not just remaining quiet purposefully, but genuinely at a loss for words. Your chest clenched as you looked at him, his dark eyes transfixed on his family. A pointer finger followed the outline of his father’s beard, thumb of the other hand still resting on his mother’s cheek.

“They’re your memories, Doyoung, your feelings, your parents,” you reassured him firmly but quietly, left hand resting on the crook between his neck and shoulder. “And they’re deserving of your grief and love.”

“Thank you,” he finally croaked out, another tear slipping down his face. “I—I want to hold your hand but…”

“You don’t want to let go of them yet, I understand,” you stated before moving your right hand to rest gently on his forearm. “How old were you in this?”

“Eight. I remember sitting for this portrait, it was just before…” he trailed off, and your chest squeezed painfully as your mind filled in the blanks. After a heavy swallow, Doyoung changed his train of thought, “I sat on my mother’s lap at my own insistence that I wasn’t too big for it yet.”

“You all look so happy, especially the little Prince with such a big smile.”

He let out a short chuckle at your observation, “Seems I’ve always been soft and expressive. I suppose it was the human world that made me lose that, then.”

“You’re in Erethulia again, do you feel it coming back to you?”

“No,” he responded quietly, setting the canvas down on his lap. After another fond stroke to his father’s visage, he took his left hand from the painting to cup your cheek with it. With your head tilted so that you couldn’t look anywhere but into Doyoung’s eyes—his dark eyes, his mother’s eyes—your next question dropped from your mind. “I was soft before I came back.”

The sympathetic tears that had been threatening to make an appearance before now fully welled up, and you clasped your hand over his on your cheek. You tried to say ‘I love you’ but no words came out, so you only mouthed it to him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, pressing a long kiss to your forehead.

Lunch was a rather quiet affair, but you didn’t mind. When you had finally finished the food and let it settle, you felt the meal coming to a close. Time to put back on all your layers and return to the cold. With a sigh you began pulling on your multitude of clothes as Doyoung packed up the picnic things.

The bag was dropped back off at the kitchens, then the two of you were off into the city.

“So, any pressing questions about Erethulia?” Doyoung asked as the two of you began your descent.

“Uh, I think I saw something this morning, on Chaewon and Chanshik’s necks. It was this grey triangle with a flower in it, on the back of their necks. I don’t remember it being there before, but I could’ve just missed it.”

“No, you wouldn’t have been able to see it before. Those are their bond marks, their connection to their Onmyoji. Only other Ayakashi and Onmyoji with their powers can see them most of the time.”

“Bond marks?”

“Every Onmyoji, like yourself, will have five True Ayakashi—the people whose souls you are most connected to in this world—and the connection manifests in a mark on the back of your neck. The Onmyoji and their five True Ayakashi all have the same mark.”

“So Chaewon and Chanshik have the same Onmyoji.”

You hit the beginnings of the dwellings then, and felt eyes following your slow descent, but nobody made a move to approach you, and Doyoung made no move to address them either.

“Had,” he corrected you. “Bond marks are typically black; they turn grey when the Onmyoji passes and the bond between the souls is broken. My parents had the same marks, too, and a Satori as well. The six of them were the best of friends… I suppose Jiwon and Ren left when the Chancellor took over, and at some point Jiwon must have passed.”

You squeezed his arm to show your support, these sounded like people who he all knew in his childhood and were his parents’ best friends. Chaewon and Chanshik had bond marks, but you couldn’t remember there being anything on Minhee’s neck, or some of the other Erethulians you had seen briefly.

“Does every Ayakashi have an Onmyoji?”

“Yes.”

“But some of the Erethulians here don’t have bond marks.”

“Their Onmyoji doesn’t have their powers yet. Your True Ayakashi must have just gotten their own marks yesterday, you as well.”

“Really? What’s mine?”

“A lotus blossom. Very pretty, very striking.”

You leaned back slightly then frowned, “You don’t have a mark. I thought you said my True Ayakashi are the people whose souls I’m most connected to.”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you one of my True Ayakashi?”

Doyoung’s face broke out into a fond smile, “I don’t know. Chaewon would say that would be a question for arwel, not me.”

The mention of ‘arwel’ caught your attention, “That brings me to my next question: Who, or what, is arwel?”

Doyoung took a moment to narrowly dodge a gaggle of Erethulian children of various ages running by before answering, “The will of nature. Sort of like the human idea of fate, but stronger, more deliberate and slightly less vague. Not any easier to predict, but more meaningful, more purposeful. It’s the closest thing we have to religion aside from Erethulia herself.”

“And who is Erethulia to you all, then? Sicheng thought she was a goddess of some kind.”

“Erethulia isn’t a goddess or deity to us, just someone whom we revere and thank.”

“So Erethulians are more spiritual than religious,” you paraphrased to check your understanding.

“Yes. I haven’t told you the story of Erethulia yet, have I?”

“No. I’d like to hear it.”

“It was her love for us that led her to become the very cave that your powers were awakened in. The Erethulians were suffering, much like they are now. She realized that the only way to help her people, to save their land, was to become part of the kingdom, part of the land, part of each and every Erethulian. It’s her love that exists within me, ties me to this kingdom, this land, and to my people.”

Your mouth had parted, and eyes widened in absolute awe at the beautiful story and words coming from Doyoung’s mouth. He slowed to a stop by the balcony that he had given his speech at the day before, and at your silence, looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?”

You were finally broken from your spell and squeezed his arm again, “Never thought I’d hear my stone cold super serious personal assistant businessman boyfriend talk like a nineteenth century Romantic.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, pulling you closer to the balcony to be able to gaze out over the rest of the town and valley below. He pressed a kiss to your head through your hoods, “Like I said, I’ve gone all soft again, love.”

Erethulia was even prettier in full daylight, the bright rays of the sun reflecting off the ice crystals and dimmed iridia crystals in the most dazzling ways. It was livelier, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the time of day or a morale boost from Doyoung’s return. The base of the valley was a rich, earthy green, and you saw glints of something down there among the rippling flora.

“So you already have flowers that don’t exist in the human world,” you prefaced your next question. “Any fauna that I don’t know about?”

“Blue cardinals. Ice doves.”

You looked over at him with skepticism, unable to tell if he was messing with you in that moment. It didn’t sound like when his dry humor would come through before, but he also sounded almost too serious.

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”

“One is real, one is fake. I’ll let you guess which is which.”

“You’re mean,” you scoffed, elbowing him with your heavily padded arm.

“Well? What’s your guess?”

“Are the blue cardinals fake?”

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Correct, I was too obvious with that one.”

“Ha!” You shot back victoriously. “Will I be able to see an ice dove while I’m here?”

Doyoung resumed your descent, “Probably. It’s around hatching time. Keep an eye out, they like to make their nests in any nook or cranny they can find.”

When you finally reached the bottom of the city, the paved path became just a dirt trail leading directly into the shin-high grass. The sparkling that you had seen from the balcony was coming from what looked to be orchids made entirely of ice. The crystals reflected just like glass, casting rainbows on anything nearby.

You breathed out as a tentative finger touched the petal of one, “They’re so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you could come while they were blooming still,” Doyoung said. “The warmer weather melts them until the fall.”

“Warmer? It’s below freezing still.”

“They’re very particular about the conditions they’ll grow in.”

The knowledge that they’d be disappearing soon prompted you to bring your phone out of your pocket. You hadn’t turned it on since you’d left your own city, but you wanted to take a picture of these. As soon as you opened your camera, you were reminded of other pictures you would have to take.

“We need some pictures together,” you informed him as you snapped a couple of the flower from different angles, trying to do its beauty justice. “For my parents. Oh, and you need to take a picture of me making a snow angel at some point for Johnny.”

Doyoung made a noise of acknowledgement before actually speaking, “Any distressed texts and calls from or about Taeyong and Yuta?”

Your eyes scanned your notifications intrepidly. You had some service, enough for texts to come streaming in, but judging by the singular bar of reception, you guessed that sending some back would take quite a while. You must be at the very edge of the range of the cell phone tower by the ski resort.

“Surprisingly no,” you informed him with a breath of relief. “Now come here, a couple pictures.”

Pulling up your front camera, you were able to see just how ridiculous you looked all bundled up. Just your eyes, mouth, and nose poking out from under all your hoods. You struggled with angling the picture just right so that Doyoung’s lack of winter clothes and single strange robe would be mostly covered up by your own clothing. Finally, you had a good framing with Doyoung mostly behind you, resting his head against yours. As you took a couple more, he once more kissed your head through your hood, making your smile increase tenfold.

“Okay, where’s the closest patch of snow?”

It was the last full day you were spending in Erethulia. The next day was Sunday, and you’d have to leave fairly early in the morning to make sure you were back home at a reasonable time. Breakfast that morning was buzzing with excitement—well, by Erethulian standards, which meant there was a mild uptick in their pitch—over what was going to be happening after lunch. A hockey game.

Of course the snow kingdom full of snow spirits would have their primary form of entertainment be hockey. From what you could tell, a hockey game hadn’t happened in a rather long time, the populace too weak and too hopeless to want to play. But the return of Doyoung changed that. You could see it, even in your short week there, how the city itself seemed to be growing stronger, they all seemed to be brighter. Well, as bright as Erethulians could get. Children had more energy to play, their parents often times joining in as well. It warmed your heart to see, and you could only imagine how lovely the kingdom would be as it continued healing.

Except the chatter suddenly soured as Younghoon, a staff member in the kitchen, bemoaned, “Daesung was out past his curfew last night and now his mom won’t let him play.”

“Shit, and you don’t have seconds, do you?” Minhee breathed out.

“No, practically every young adult and teenager in Erethulia is already on one of the two teams. Except you, Minhee.”

“No.”

Younghoon’s sharp eyes suddenly focused on Doyoung, “How old are you, Prince Doyoung?”

“Twenty-six.”

The younger boy’s eyes lit up just the slightest, “Still young enough!”

“What—”

“You’ll be playing, correct, Prince?” Chaewon asked, and your head was spinning from how quickly the conversation had changed.

You looked to your boyfriend for his answer, as he had never previously expressed any interest in hockey. Unless him taking you to the skating rink for your first date counted.

Doyoung nibbled on his food for a moment, thinking it over.

“It’ll be a big morale booster, Prince Doyoung,” Chanshik added hopefully.

The Prince looked to you for a moment, and you understood that he was silently asking for your opinion as well.

“It sounds like if you don’t play, there won’t be a game,” you pointed out. “You don’t want to spoil the kids’ day, do you?”

“Of course, yes, I’ll play too.”

Younghoon broke out into a small smile, “Thank you, Prince!”

The game was to be taking place down in the valley, where a large patch of ice had suddenly appeared. You imagined any one of the numerous snow spirit inhabitants had set it up preemptively. Complete with bleachers of ice. Thankfully you’d been forward thinking enough to bring the blanket you sat on at the dining table.

You’d sent Doyoung off to get ready with his team with a good luck kiss on the cheek, and you were now settled in beside Minhee front and center. It seemed that every Erethulian was either in the stands or on one of the two teams. Despite their usual monotonous affect, you could still feel their excitement electrifying the air around you.

When the teams finally began walking onto the rink, your eyes widened. In their hands were glimmering hockey sticks presumably made out of ice, which wasn’t surprising, but it was the lack of another key piece of equipment that concerned you.

“Uh, where’s their padding? And helmets?”

“Their what?” Minhee questioned, eyes focused on the athletes.

Or maybe one athlete in particular, you thought to yourself as you saw a tall woman wave in your direction, and Minhee immediately divert her eyes to her lap, cheeks flushing a baby blue.

“Oh, and who’s that, Minhee?” You elbowed her playfully.

“Jaewoon. She— oh she’s coming over here!” Her voice squeaked with genuine panic as the rather built Erethulian was indeed making her way over to the stands.

“Hey, MinMin!” The player called out as she slowed her pace down to stop in front of your friend.

“Hi, Jaewoon…”

“I thought you didn’t like watching hockey,” Jaewoon questioned knowingly.

“Onmyoji is here to watch Prince Doyoung play, and I’m kind of her guide, so…”

You sat up a bit straighter at being mentioned but didn’t make any move to help or hurt your friend.

“Oh, I see. Well, since you’re here, you might as well cheer me on, hm?” The other woman teased, cocky smirk on her lips.

“I-I—”

“I’ll be listening for you, MinMin.”

And with that, Jaewoon skated away as smoothly as she had approached, back to her team, which included Doyoung. Looking over at Minhee again, you saw that her face was now a deep cerulean blue, an even more intense blush than you had ever seen on your boyfriend.

“Anything you want to tell me, Minhee?” You prompted her, trying to keep your tone light.

“No, Onmyoji—”

“Because I personally think I’m an excellent wingman.”

“No!” She nearly shrieked, and you almost bust a lung laughing.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, sorry Minhee,” you apologized between laughs. “Well, only sort of kidding. But I’ll leave it be, promise.”

“Thank you.”

“But what did she mean by saying you don’t like watching hockey? I thought there hasn’t been a game for a while.”

“There hasn’t been one like this, but sometimes a pick-up game will happen. Jaewoon has invited me to watch them before.”

“And you told her you didn’t like watching hockey?”

“I panicked.”

The referee then stepped onto the ice, halting your conversation. Chanshik smiled at the audience, gliding across the ice on his skates as if it were second nature to him. It pretty much was for every Erethulian around you. Unlike yourself, who needed a few minutes each time to get used to the different terrain.

While their sticks were made of ice, the goals were made of metal like the blades of their skates, and the puck was a dark wood that you imagined was rather sturdy to be used in such a game. Doyoung and Jaewoon’s team were wearing white uniforms, made of the same material as their other clothes but this time in cuts similar to traditional hockey uniforms. They weren’t as bulky as human uniforms, presumably due to the lack of padding. The other team was wearing blue uniforms just like theirs. You figured the seamstresses and seamsters had been creating them in preparation for the past few days, ever since Doyoung had granted the request of the excited group of Erethulian teenagers who approached the two of you in town.

Before you knew it, the game had started, and you desperately wracked your brain to remember the rules of Erethulian hockey that Doyoung had told you about at lunch. Players were allowed to alter the ice under their own skates but not their opponents’. They weren’t allowed to manipulate their opponents' sticks either. Scorekeeping seemed similar enough, and while it was technically allowed to be as rough as regular human hockey, you were finding out that it didn’t seem necessary at all. Each player moved with the fluidity and grace of an ice skater, but with the brute power of a hockey player. They could easily dodge each other with spins and twirls at speeds that would have made you dizzy if you’d been the one executing them.

Doyoung was incredible. For having not played against other Erethulians in almost twenty years, he moved like he’d been playing like this for his whole life. You felt yourself get a little light-headed at the absolute concentration in his features, the hard set of his brow and clench of his jaw as he effortlessly ducked around another Erethulian, passed the puck to Jaewoon, then received it back to score in a single smooth shot. Yeah, you knew your boyfriend was hot, but seeing him like this was truly something else. A religious experience, one might say.

As the teams moved to reset their positions, you saw a single drop of sweat roll from Doyoung’s temple to chin, and nearly passed out. Then he caught your gaze, sharp eyes softening for that moment as you fumbled to give him a shaky thumbs-up.

You half expected a teasing remark from Minhee, but then you saw Jaewoon shoot her a wave and a wink and knew that the two of you were in pretty much the same boat. Except you were actually dating your hot athletic love interest, she wasn’t. If you were a lesser person you would be scheming about it, but you weren’t Na Jaemin. That didn’t mean you couldn’t absentmindedly ruminate on it while you watched the rest of the game, though.

At the conclusion of the game, Doyoung’s team had won, and you were pleasantly surprised about the lack of injuries. Human hockey always seemed so violent, and you really didn’t want your boyfriend to get hurt. While the Erethulians around you ran onto the rink to greet their friends and family, you waited patiently on the snowy ground in front of the bleachers, not even wanting to tempt fate with the slippery ice and your lack of snow powers like the others. Doyoung ducked around some of his more excited, younger teammates before approaching you.

“You were awesome, Doyoung!” You exclaimed, still with wide, awe-struck eyes.

He wiped at his brow with the sleeve of his jersey, and you briefly wondered if clothes made of ice were able to absorb anything, but his skin did look drier after. There was a smile on his face, victorious, relieved, and elated, that you only got to see for a moment before he swooped down, and the breath was stolen from your lungs. His lips stopped just a centimeter from yours, his cool breath fanning over your mouth as he asked, “Warm?”

“Plenty,” you whispered back, almost immediately having your lips captured by his.

Your gloved hands clumsily grabbed at the back of his head to pull him closer and give yourself something to anchor onto. The kiss didn’t last for too long, but in those few moments you were almost able to forget about all the other Erethulians around you.

⤷ prev. ⤷ next ⤷ masterlist

#s: ayakashi #a: snowflake #a: doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct #nct 127 #doyoung imagine #doyoung imagines #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 imagines #text #mine #writing #ge: fluff

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

meet me in the gardens

knight!natasha romanoff x noble!fem!reader

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: ppl are upset, shit gets ruined, swearing? the “l” word

word count: 3.5k

what is this, like the sixth part? this was definitely supposed to be a miniseries lmao- all the other parts are on my pinned post!

The nights passed the same, but the days were entirely different. Days kept flying by, and with every single cycle of the sun, you were forced more and more by tradition to prepare your home for your future husband. It had been days since you and Natasha confessed your feelings for each other and kissed under the starlight, and still, the feeling of her arms around you and her face in your hands still ran around in your mind, pushing thoughts of your duties out of your mind without any effort. And it was for that reason, against your judgement, that you still met with Natasha Romanoff every night.

It felt like ever since the honesty started flowing, you began to feel lighter. With every glance at Natasha that became less and less stolen, your soul felt like it could deviate more and more by the second. Your mind knew what was going on, the high before the impending fall, and you knew for a fact that when you hit the ground, you were going to shatter. But you couldn't find your mind wanting to acknowledge how fragile you were becoming for love. And how could you? How could you mind the chilling fall and the results of it when Natasha cradled you so gently, just like stained glass?

Wanda was the sane one. She was the one who kept trying to bring you back down from the tops of your clouds, attempting to be the gentle reminder before reality itself slammed right into you and took your breath away in the worst of ways. She was the gentle hand of a mother that tried to shake her child out of a nightmare disguised as a dream, and you were the insolent child who ignored her.

Pietro, on the other hand, encouraged it. He was all for splurging, and that went for everything. He was a borderline glutton and when he had money, it was gone within weeks, and he was an advocate for the way that you were divulging in your own little heaven. He would smile when he saw you off in your own head, reminiscing on a memory so sweet you could have sworn it was some sort of dream. He would tell Wanda in hushed whispers to leave you alone, and that you deserved to be happy, even if it was only for a little bit.

“But she doesn’t deserve to have it ripped away from her,” Wanda said to him on a day where the sun managed to pierce through the coverage of the clouds, and he just shook his head at her, looking at her with slight pity. “It’s my duty as her friend to remind her.”

“She’s a smart girl, don’t you think she knows?” Pietro retorted, eyeing you as you picked a magnolia from your garden, standing by yourself but still smiling. “Besides, do you really think that her lady love is going to let anything happen to her?”

Wanda gasped and looked around them, on alert for anyone who could have possibly heard what her brother had said. Her eyes were wild as she watched for anyone who may have heard the scandalous words, and when she saw that everyone was minding their business, she swirled her head back to glare at Pietro. “What?”

Pietro grinned, and then his grin turned into a sneaky smirk. “What, you didn't know?” When Wanda hesitated to answer, he chuckled. ‘There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“Pietro, you can’t just say things like that,” she scolded, heart still racing at the thought of someone knowing.

“You and I are the only ones who know her well enough to know that she’s in love, and there’s no way that you haven’t seen the way that the knight is around her.”

Wanda had. She had a great read on people, always seeming to know everyone’s thoughts before they even knew it themselves. She knew the second that Natasha Romanoff started to change, and she would never forget the time where she realized that it was because of her very own dear friend.

It happened on a particularly cool day, and Wanda had dressed you in a short and flowy dress before realizing that there was a breeze outside. You had walked down to the training areas, even though you said that you were just aimlessly walking, and you kept glancing over your shoulder to watch the red head spar with a man twice her size and hold more than her own. You had looked away the second that Wanda looked at you for a moment too long, with her eyes that were always seeking answers. The first pang of realization hit Wanda that day when she saw you stand up straight and tall when Natasha started to saunter towards the both of you. The second time that she saw it was when Natasha got an eyeful of you, too, and then her flawless steps faltered for the quickest of moments. Natasha never faltered.

“It doesn’t matter what we know,” Wanda muttered lowly, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear in an attempt to look like they were having a normal conversation. “We can’t just go around saying that our lady-”

“Likes women?” He asked, and Wanda immediately started throwing curses his way. “No one ever sees past their own problems here. I can assure you, no one cares if Lady Mirellis likes lying with women.”

“No, but Brock Rumlow will care,” Wanda pointed out. “And he has the ability to make her life miserable. So please, watch your mouth. Or at least care for how loud you run it.”

“They were meant to meet,” Pietro said, his words nearly running into Wanda’s. “They were meant to meet, that much is obvious. I knew it from the second that I saw them look at each other when the redhead stepped out of the carriage.” Wanda looked at him with shock in her eyes as she watched his face flood with smugness, the sort of effortless smile that made people smile back. “What, you didn’t see that coming?” He shook his head and ruffled his sister’s hair, ignoring the angered sounds she made.

“And you say that you’re the observant twin?”

§§

The stream became your hiding place. It was the place that you and Natasha went when it all became too much for you or when she wanted to celebrate getting another step closer to finding herself. You went on good days and bad ones, but at the end of it, you felt at peace. You both ended up forgetting why you went in the first place.

Your toes were in the water, brushing up against a rock every few seconds as the red head practiced wielding her sword absentmindedly behind you, still looking graceful and as smooth as water while she did it. “What’s going to happen when you finish?”

“When I finish what?”

“When you finish your knightly duties, you know, the reason why you came in the first place?” You asked, turning your head to look at her. She had her arm straight out, sword elongating it and was mid-lunge, but her eyes were on you and her forehead had gathered wrinkles. “What’s going to happen?”

She dropped her arm abruptly and frowned. You heard her inhale over the sound of rushing water. “Well, I suppose I have to ride back to the capital.” You knew that. “I’ll be officially knighted there.”

“Are you excited?”

“It’s still a few months away,” Natasha said, and you knew that the statement was more for you than it was for her. “But when the time comes, I’ll be excited.”

You knew she would be. She rose up from nothing to possibly being a woman knighted by the king, something that had never happened before. She was proud of herself, and you were proud of her. She was the perfect knight, honorable and strong, and everything that a person with that title should be. You sat there with your lips shut, hand in hers like it was meant to be that way, and your mind moving at a speed legs couldn’t even hope for.

“Whatever you’re worrying about, darling,” Natasha said, the hand that wasn’t intertwined with you reaching up and brushing against your jaw, fingers caressing your face as she turned your head gently to face her. “Don’t.”

“If only it were that easy.”

“It could be,” she retorted, and her pointer finger brushed over your top lip. “Just stop thinking about it.”

You pursed your lips at her, shaking your head. “You truly do have a man’s brain.”

“Are you going to be able to do it?” She asked out of nowhere, and you stopped tracing her eyebrows with your finger to give her a confused look. “I guess the real question is- are you really going to do it?”

You sighed, your heart already slowly breaking. “Yes.” You said, lacking hesitancy that you felt deeply in your heart. “It won’t matter that I’ll be married to him. I swear it.”

“I believe you.”

“Nothing has to change. We’ll sneak around like we always do, we’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” Natasha said, grabbing your hands as they started to shake. Your eyes were gathering tears with every word that passed through your lips, and she made you focus on her. “I believe you.”

The rest of the night was spent as all the other nights were spent. Silence other than the sounds of nature and each other’s soft breathing. The customary breeze that came and went brushing against your bare legs and Natasha’s clothed ones. Soft touches that ranged from hands to foreheads to each other’s backs. It was so intimate, and you were so alone with her that it truly felt like you two were the only people on the planet. You never felt safer. Seeing Natasha wield a sword or wear her armor had nothing on the security that you felt when she just had you close, where there was nothing but a sliver of air between your two bodies. It was in moments like those, when she held you in her arms and kissed your temple, where you truly felt invincible.

§§

With every passing day, you fell more and more in love with Natasha Romanoff. That much was a given, and you knew that the first night at the stream was going to change your life for forever, but you never expected it to be that hard. And by it, you meant, getting married to someone you would hate just so that you could keep the woman that you loved safe.

And it felt so good to finally use that word, even if it was only in the comforts of your own mind. You loved her. You loved her like you had never loved anyone else, and you had to tell her one day. Your heart sunk to your toes when you realized that the confession would have to be in an empty forest or in your gardens or somewhere else just a s secretive, and that no one would ever find out truly how devoted you were to her. You were never going to be able to tell the world that you loved her, and that was for more reasons than one.

You were going to marry Brock Rumlow the day after he arrived. And that day was hardly even approaching anymore, it was on your doorstep. It was so close, in fact, that you were standing in your wedding gown and crying as you tried it on one last time before the fateful day.

One second, Wanda was doing your corset and fixing the collar on the traditional wedding dress and the next- she was watching you lose your mind. “I really- I can’t do it.” You had a hand over your mouth as you looked up towards the ceiling. You collapsed to the floor despite your chest struggling to expand and catch a breath while the corset constricted. Your hands covered your face as you allowed yourself to have a good cry for the first time in what felt like years.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Wanda breathed out, and you could feel the heartbreak in her just like it was in you. “I know. I know, just cry it all out.”

Your head was spinning. You had no idea what terrible choices you had made for life to bring you to the spot that you were soon to arrive at and be stuck in forever. You had no idea what you had done to the world to make the universe want to make your life miserable. “I can’t do it.”

“If you’re afraid that he’ll hurt you…” Wanda started off, a slight tremble in her voice as she tried to gather her own bearings and be strong for you, “Pietro and I won’t let it happen. Pietro is strong, and I’m fierce when it comes to the two of you, you know that. Nothing will ever happen to you while we’re here.”

“I can’t marry him,” you sobbed, and it felt like you were being crushed into a hug by the corset. “I can’t.”

“I will be with you every step of the way, just like I was before, darling.”

“No!” You wailed, and you felt Wanda startle a bit. You were going in circles in your own mind, s fast that you couldn’t even stop your lips from moving if you had tried. “I can’t- I cannot marry him because my heart is fully in the possession of another.” You admitted lowly, so quietly that Wanda hardly even heard it. “I can’t.”

Wanda waited a few moments before speaking again. “It’s Natasha isn’t it?”

You stiffened up immediately, almost forgetting that quickly that you had shared the only secret that you ever kept from Wanda. Natasha. “What?”

“Pietro and I have known you for what feels like centuries,” Wanda said rubbing a smooth hand up and down your back. “Did you really think that we hadn’t caught on?”

You looked up at her, panic manifesting in your eyes. “Who else knows?” If you were in a rational state of mind, you would have known that Wanda and Pietro would never run their mouths, especially not about something that meant life or death. And you being with someone- a woman at that- before your betrothed came? That meant certain death for the both of you. ‘W-Wanda-”

“No one knows,” she said soothingly, a promise deep rooted in her tone. “Just the two of us. You hid it surprisingly well, but you can’t hide from your family.”

And they were family. The only ones you considered to be family, actually. “So now you know why.” Wanda nodded, and then the two of you sat on your wooden floor in silence, but it felt awfully loud with the thoughts running through you.

It felt like ages had passed by the time Wanda’s voice flooded your senses again, the despair in it hardly hidden. “What are you going to do?”

“Try to keep us both alive.”

§§

Your eyes were shut as you laid on your back and tried to will the tears away. Natasha was next to you, and you were supposed to be stargazing during your last night of freedom. You had been keeping it together, but the second Natasha heard a sniffle, she shook her head and leaned up on her arm.

“You are not going to mope on our last- you know what? You’re just not going to mope tonight. Stand up.” Before you could even tell her that you didn’t want to she was yanking you up with one hand. You stumbled forward and into her arms, unable to stop yourself from giggling a bit before she steadied you.

The moonlight was your friend as it lit her face, and like you always did, you momentarily lost your breath while the two of you locked eyes, yours clashing with her blue ones and creating a tension that you were so familiar with, the kind that everyone craved. “If there was no rush, nothing threatening to tear us apart, would you agree to marry me right now?”

You blinked. “What?”

“In another life,” Natasha said, and you nodded with hesitant encouragement. “If this was another life and I was someone in a position to get down on one knee and marry you, would you tell me yes?” You stood there tongue tied, holding both of her hands as she stared at you head on. “If I were a man, a wealthy man who loved you for you, just like I do now, would you tell me yes? Would you agree to marry me if there were no obstacles?”

Once you understood the depth of her question, the answer that had been stirring within finally came to light, and then it was leaving your lips in a surprised exhalation. “Yes.”

“Good,” Natasha said, the apprehension melting off of her face. She took a step back, but still held your hands tightly. “I’ll make it a point to find you in the next life, then.”

The next life. An unknown. Something that had so many variables, so many different meanings and outcomes. She was so optimistic, for someone who had seen so much hurt and suffering. But you were a realist, you had to be after everything that happened to you. And you knew deep down, no matter how much you willed for there to be one, that there was no second chance at a next life for you. And there wasn’t one for her, either. You didn’t have the next life. You didn’t even have the one you lived in. But you had a single night.

“I would marry you tonight,” you said softly, and when you heard her breathing hitch, you turned your head to look at her, watching the slightest of flushes appear on her cheeks, like she was surprised that you would have even said the words that you did. “Even with everything going on right now, I would marry you. I would marry you with or without the people who hate us for loving who we do, and with or without Brock Rumlow coming in the morning. If I could, I would marry you. If you’d have me, of course.”

“Of course I would,” she said, relief lacing in her voice as she touched your face, and one of your tears hit her pointer finger. “And it’s too late now, I’m afraid, but, I love you,” she said, and just like that, all of your worry and frustration and fear had melted away, like you were in some stupid fairy tale that queens tell their daughters at night. “Is that enough?”

No. It wasn’t. Not when it came to her. You wanted to give your all to her and you wanted it back from her. But as quick as you realized that you wanted it all, you realized that you would never get it. So, the little confessions and hugs and caresses in the dark were going to have to be enough. You would make them enough. “It’s enough,” you said, because wanting was enough. Being with her in the night and desiring for her during the day was enough. “It’s enough.”

§§

You expected a more calm entrance from Lord Rumlow, but then again, you didn’t know him. But the second all of his horses and men came barreling down the road, you felt like you knew him quite enough.

You knew all men like him at first glance.

Wanda was on your left, and Pietro on your right as you stood in a pretty, floral dress that Wanda picked out for you. It was silent when she dressed you, but all the words were there. She did your hair the way that you usually did it, said you looked beautiful, and then the next thing you knew, you were standing and watching carriages arrive.

Natasha wasn’t there.

You honestly didn’t know if it was worse or better for you.

When the fanfare was finally over and the door to the grandest chariot of them all opened, you held your breath. And then, before you could even stop yourself, you thought, I’m about to see what a true monster looks like.

He was a big man. Muscular, sturdy looking, and intimidating. You immediately understood why he came off as so hostile in the letters, and it was because he was so scary looking that he could get away with nearly anything. You tilted your head upwards in defiance, meeting his eyes even though he cocked a brow at you, easily recognizing you as his betrothed, and as a woman who was directly challenging him.

He took a few steps closer, but like he knew of your extreme aversion to him and the way that you had two people beside you that would defend you fiercely, he stopped at a far enough distance. His expensive shoes dug up your grass, and you would have flinched if it weren’t for his steely, self assured voice coming your way. “You must be my wife.”

You couldn’t even scoff. “Not yet.”

“But tomorrow is coming,” he said, looking around the estate, clearly pleased with the way it looked. He nodded his head once, twice, and then three times, before his gaze settled on you again, and he looked you up and down. “Couldn’t ask for anything more.

***

it literally astonishes me that this was supposed to be four chapters long, at most. but then again, it was supposed to be a fucking one shot just like all the flowers will bloom- so why am i surprised? i can’t write none shots for shit guys...

please like and reblog if you liked this lil installment! i hope you guys have a great rest of your day/night :))))

taglist!

@teenwonder @msmarvelsmain @saamwilscn @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @shycucumbersandwich @dailyavengering

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @chickenhavewisdom

i’m pretty sure i didn’t forget anyone, and if i did, i’m sorry!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #knight!natasha #royalty au #natasha romanov fluff #marvel au #lgbt marvel #gay marvel fic #my fics #natasha x fem!reader

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lesbobiwan · 3 years

Note

8 with Hunter 🥺 Please and thank you 😇

#8: "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat." + Hunter

warnings: spanking as punishment, cunnilingus, the joys of trying to have a sex life while being a parent to a nosy child

(lets pretend that the galaxy is nice and the bad batch has both omega and crosshair on board. because im the writer and say fuck u cowboy hat man. also u guys r here for porn. not plot)

It wasn't like you were being serious. You only wanted to have a little fun.

Crosshair was just... conveniently there.

"You must have very steady hands," you remark, holding up Crosshair's hand to inspect them.

He smirks from around his toothpick, totally aware of what little game you're playing but always ready to fuck with his brother.

His fingers are more slender than Hunter's, nimble in a way that's beneficial for a man who lives his life on the trigger of a gun.

You've always valued thickness over length.

You continue to inspect Crosshair's fingers regardless.

He lets you ooh and ahh at his fingers and in turn gets a nice confidence boost while fucking with Hunter. A beneficial relationship.

The vein on Hunter's is getting exponentially larger with every second you spend touching Crosshair, but it isn't until Crosshair offers to give you a personal demonstration of how useful his fingers can be that Hunter stands up.

"Alright," Hunter's voice is short and clipped and sure to cause the best kind of pain for your backside. "Everybody out." He stands up from his bunk, drawing the attention of Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Omega.

"What?" Echo's voice is incredulous as he looks up from whatever he was tinkering with.

"Where are we going?" Omega asks, bouncing up to her feet.

You would smile at her overabundant enthusiasm if it weren't for the fact that you wanted to be fucked. Now.

Being a new parent really puts a damper on your sex life, which was already had to be a little sneaky to begin with when you shared a ship with four other people.

Hunter falters, mouth falling open but staying silent.

"Um, Hunter and I just need to talk about something real quick, sweetheart," you cover, excitement starting to build in your gut.

Tech scoffs and mumbles something under his breath.

Wrecker elbows him hard enough to shove Tech into the side of the bunk.

"Oh," Omega rolls onto the backs of her heels, "what about?"

Yup, you're tapped out for trying to come up with excuses to get a child out of the house so you can have sex.

You look at Hunter and gesture out towards Omega. Your turn.

"Uhm... adult stuff," Hunter stammers smartly.

"C'mon, kid," Wrecker plucks Omega up around the waist and hauls her under his arm like a ball, easily leading her out of the ship.

Tech and Echo are the next to rise, both of them hauling little scraps of machinery.

"You do know we're in the middle of nowhere," Tech reminds the two of you on your way out.

"Out, Tech."

Crosshair is the last to get up, groaning with the obvious tremendous effort it takes to stand up. "You owe me," he informs you, pointing one of his long fingers at you.

"Bye, Crosshair," you sing, reaching out to graze a finger along his wrist as he steps past you.

The tension in the ship is palpable.

"I can't help but feel like you're mad at me," you point out, eyes trailing over the way that Hunter's broad chest rises and falls with each of his deep inhales.

You see Hunter's nostrils flair — most likely breathing in your arousal. No sooner than the thought enters your mind, Hunter's eyes dilate. Definitely breathing in your arousal.

Still, he doesn't say anything.

"Me and Cross were just having some fun," you defend, cheeks growing red.

Suddenly, your grand idea doesn't seem that grand anymore.

"Do you want to do this here? Or in the bedroom?" Hunter steps closer into your personal space, so close you can smell the GAR issued soap on him mixed with something distinctly Hunter.

He's offering you a small bit of mercy, a small portion of control in your punishment.

Then you have to open your big mouth.

"We could always use Crosshair's bun — hey!"

Hunter's hand closes around your hair within one breath and the next.

"Hunter!" you cry out, hands scrambling at his wrist, "What the hell are you doing? Let me go!"

He sits on a bunk and — oh, fuck it's actually Crosshair's bunk, Hunter's actually doing this — sprawls you across his lap, one heavy hand on the back of your neck.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and your cunt. "Okay, this isn't funny," you say, while internally you beg for him to keep going, "let me up."

You don't try as hard as you should to get out of his grasp. You think Hunter knows.

"No." Hunter's grip on your neck tightens while his other hand drags both your pants and panties over your ass until they get stuck around your knees. "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat."

Shit. You rub your thighs together over his lap, one of your hands clasping around his ankle.

"How many do you think you deserve after that little stunt?" Hunter asks, though you know it's purely rhetorical. "Ten? Fifteen?" His hand swipes across the meat of your asscheeks, warming up the skin before he strikes it — another small mercy.

You hold your breath. You're sure any number you give will only be doubled.

Hunter huffs. "Smart girl," he comments at your silence. "Count."

That's all the warning you get before —

Smack!

You yelp at the first sting across your skin. The sound registers first before the pain. You jerk across his lap, kicking your legs out as you squeal.

The hand on the back of your neck tightens imperceptibly. "Forgetting something?"

"One!" you cry out, voice thick.

He offers you no praise. Not yet, at least. He knows this is light work for you. It's towards the end of your punishment that he'll have to start talking you through it.

Smack!

Hunter's palm lands on your opposite cheek, harder this time.

"Two!" you yelp, hands clenching around Hunter's ankle.

True to form, it takes more than a few spanks in order for you to begin to reach your limit. Your eyes get teary and you do your best to dig your face into the pristine sheets of Crosshair's bunk.

Still, despite your pain, you feel your inner thighs get slick with your arousal.

"That's my girl," Hunter coos, fingers turning almost gentle as he scratches at the nape of your neck. "Just a couple more, can you do that for me?"

His hand soothes the skin of your burning ass, but you jerk against him in sensitivity.

It's too much. Too much, you just want to be good for him now.

"Color?" Hunter prods, pulling his hand away from your stinging cheeks.

"Green!" you sob into the sheets.

Good girls take their punishment.

Hunter gives you one appraising squeeze to the back of your neck, distinctly different from how he grabbed it to get you under control, and wastes no time in delivering two succinct and brutal spanks — one to each cheek.

You wail out each corresponding number and allow yourself to devolve into tears against the sheets.

Hunter smoothes contact-warm palms over your ass cheeks, soothing the ache as best he can without getting up to grab some bacta. "Good girl," he praises, "such a good girl for me," his hand around the back of your neck slides up and begins scratching at your scalp just the way you like.

You feel your heart rate slowing down, and no doubt Hunter can too, under his careful ministrations. The ache in your ass is no less prevalent, but you can bare it.

Besides, you think as you begin to roll your hips against his thighs, there's another feeling you can focus on, instead.

Hunter chuckles, sliding the hand on your ass to dip between your thighs and ghost a finger along your folds, "Well, I suppose you do deserve a reward, don't you?"

You turn to look at him over your shoulder with teary eyes. "Please?"

Hunter flicks his thumb across your clit, and you jolt across his lap for a different reason this time. "Hands and knees, baby," he murmurs, patting your hip once to signal for you to move.

Your limbs feel sluggish as you pull yourself off his lap. "On the floor?" you ask as you start to lower yourself onto the cold ground.

A hand around your wrist stops you. "No. Right here."

Your eyes flew open. On Crosshair's bunk? Spanking you in one thing, but fucking you?

Your cunt burns in excitement. Crosshair will never forgive you and you'll never forget this.

You settle yourself onto your hands and knees on the worn-in mattress, and you don't have to wait long at all before broad, thick fingers are spreading your thighs open and a wicked tongue is pressing against your cunt.

"Fuck!" you cry out, back bowing as Hunter dives in.

His tongue is downright sloppy as he does his best to bury his face in your dripping folds. The sounds he's making against you are obscene and make your facial cheeks go almost as red as your ass cheeks.

Hunter groans against your cunt like it's the best thing he's eaten, and you tremble with the vibrations.

Fuck, you're so close already, it's not even fair.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks.

"Hunter!" you sob, falling face first into the mattress. Your thighs tremble beneath his hands.

After being spanked within an inch of your life, your orgasm is tittering along a cliff's edge, ready to be knocked over by the barest gust of wind that comes along in the form of Hunter sliding two thick fingers into your cunt and curling.

You fall apart around him, lips falling open in a wordless scream as your walls clench around his fingers. His relentless lips that sucked at your clit switch to slow licks as you ride out your orgasm.

Hunter pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy with a wet squelch. Immediately, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

You watch behind heavy eyelids as Hunter licks up every last drop of your release — you also notice the large wet spot in the front of Hunter's pants.

The knowledge that he came in his pants like some fresh-faced cadet is almost enough to have you wanting a second round.

"C'mon, baby," Hunter rasps, "Let's get you cleaned up."

When the rest of the crew comes back, Crosshair takes one look his bunk, with a wet spot from your tears and the crumpled up sheets and immediately groans.

"You're both disgusting. You're washing my sheets," he complains, pulling them off his bed as best he can without touching too much of them.

"Why?" Omega asks, popping her head in out of nowhere. "What'd they do?"

Yeah, Hunter can deal with that one too, you think as you burrow your face deeper into his chest and close your eyes.

#100 follower celebration #hunter brat tame me challenge #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader

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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years

Text

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Chapter 9

* * * * * * *

Your dinner date was perfect.

Not once during it did the smile on Natasha’s face leave. You made her laugh, helped her keep calm while at the restaurant. As opposed to looking over her shoulder, her eyes remained on you.

If her thanking you and pressing a kiss to your lips at the end of the night didn’t clue you in that she enjoyed herself, you were given the ultimate confirmation. She agreed to go on a second date.

That was a few days ago.

Today just so happens to be one where neither you or Natasha have anything planned to do. So you’re determined to make the most of it.

Arranging all the plates on the tray, you finish pouring the cup of coffee and place it on the tray as well, then you carefully pick it up and carry it up the stairs.

You had to move fast knowing Natasha wouldn’t be asleep for long. Even though you’ve already turned both of your alarms off, her body has an internal clock that just won’t let her sleep past a certain time. She was awake when you called yourself “sneaking” out of bed.

It took little persuasion to get her to stay put. Which didn’t surprise you. On days like this Natasha was usually the one trying to convince you not to get out of bed.

“Oh, a super soldier and a chef.” The redhead teases as you set the tray of food over her lap.

Rolling your eyes, you move around the bed and carefully slip back in beside her. She looks down, noting the, be it small, gap of space between your bodies, then quirks an eyebrow at you.

You scoot over, closing the gap and pressing your sides together.“ Happy now?”

“Not entirely.”

“And what could I do to change that answer Miss Romanoff.”

She pauses, looking away as if seriously thinking. Then she turns back to you with a smirk.“ You could kiss me.”

A low chuckle sounds from you. With a shake of your head, you gently grab her chin and pull her into a soft kiss. You can feel her smile against your lips and it makes you happy, you break apart before your own smile breaks the kiss.

“Now are you happy?” You ask playfully, making Natasha nod.

“More than.”

The two of you tuck into the breakfast you made, chatting about your friends and upcoming missions. Nat asks about your retirement, if you’d considered coming out of it after how much time you’ve spent with the team and you can’t answer with finality.

While she asked you about your retirement, you asked her about dancing.

You can’t say you were surprised when Natasha mentioned that she dances, for a number of reasons.

First, since the moment you first watched her in action or even walking you noticed how incredibly gracefully she moved. Every step, turn, sway of her hips, or turn of her head was, is, captivating.

Second, you saw her, on one of the many days you were meant to train Wanda. You went in and headed straight to the gym to meet Wanda. On your way you’d heard the softest music playing and followed the sound out of curiosity. One look into the room you ended up at revealed her.

She’d braided her hair back and sported a pair of tight yoga pants and a sports bra. At the time you weren’t focused on her clothing, not when she was dancing. Ballet. You didn’t have a single interest in the dance and if you were being brutally honest you found it boring. But that changed when you saw Natasha.

The way she moved was as if she’d given herself away to the music, letting every rise and fall of tempo manipulate her body. She danced as if the entire world had fallen away, as if nothing mattered but the way she moved.

Having admitted that you love her, you can also admit that seeing her dance made you fall for her even more.

Third, she told you. It was on a night the two of you were watching tv. Flicking through the channels she stopped on a show called Dance Moms. When she made a comment about their dancing you saw it as an opportunity to ask if she likes dancing and that opened her up. You watched her move with passion and she spoke with just as much.

“I haven’t had the time to.” She says, washing the dishes as she further explains,“ Between training Pietro and Wanda, missions, Tony’s team bonding nights, and spending time with you.”

You tilt your head, folding your arms on the countertop and leaning forward,“ spending time with me could include dancing.

Drying her hands off, Natasha turns and looks at you. A mix of surprise and a challenging sarcasm is shown on her face.“ You’d watch me dance?”

“Of course. If you’re comfortable letting someone watch you?”

She nods,“ I am if that someone is you.”

Those words give you the perfect idea for your second date.

While spending the rest of the day with Natasha you plot the whole thing out in your head. You occasionally zone out, making the redhead ask what’s on your mind. Instead of telling her ‘nothing’ and having her see through you like a window, you tell her that you’re excited to see her dance, whenever that may be.

Turns out, you only have to wait a week.

Natasha’s busy schedule clears up and come Friday, you both have another day off.

You get dressed with excitement like never before. Double checking that everything is in place before you grab everything you need and leave out.

You drive a little faster than usual to the compound, a smile on your face as you pull up and text Natasha that you’re here. Funnily enough she’s making her way outside a mere five minutes after you get there.

Based on the smile she has on her face you’d say she’s just as excited about this date as you are.

You get out and walk around, pulling the door open for her with a smile,“ hi beautiful.” You greet as she walks up to the car.

“Hi,” she discreetly places her hand on top of yours before she lowers herself into the vehicle.

Looking around, you see her teammates all in the common room. Their eyes are on you and Natasha as they look through the window and you chuckle softly, closing the door then walking around to get back in the driver’s seat.

“Are they just being nosey today?” Natasha raises her eyebrows, then follows your nod towards the building,

“Oh. Yeah they are, more so than usual.” The two of you buckle up and you wave to the team before pulling off.“ I think they suspect something’s up but they can’t be sure.”

“Makes sense, we’re both very sneaky.” A teasing tone masks your words and Nat laughs.

Like usual she takes control of the radio, flicking through stations but not finding anything she can really vibe with.

She knows every time you laugh it’s at her struggle to find music she likes. If it were anyone else she’d give them the deadliest look and shut them down but god she loves your laugh.

The way you’re so genuinely happy whenever she’s around gives her butterflies, a feeling she never thought she would experience. She didn’t think she could ever make someone as happy as she seems to make you.

At first, she’d considered herself the luckiest one in this relationship, for obvious reasons. But the more you two spend time together, she gets a deeper understanding of how she makes you feel and maybe, just maybe, you’re both incredibly lucky to have this, to have each other.

“Where are we going?” She asks, looking around at her unfamiliar surroundings.

The street was lined with stores, the front windows displaying their product, then you park and get out. Her eyes stay on you as you walk around the car to open her door for her. She steps out, watching you disappear behind the car and reappear with a picnic basket.

You place your hand on her lower back, guiding her to walk alongside you. Walking past all the storefronts makes Natasha a little confused, that feeling growing as you head towards a seemingly empty building.

Her gaze moves from the building to you and back,“ Y/ln, if this is a kidnapping attempt, I should warn you I’m a trained assassin.”

Snorting a little, you shake your head and keep walking. Her confusion, while unresolved by you, is put to rest as you get closer to the building.

The dark windows, most likely tinted to a certain degree, now give a clear view of the inside of the building. A group of young children dance in unison, faintly she can hear the music that they’re listening to and she can’t help but smile a little.

“Come on.” Your hand slips into hers and you pull her into the building with you.

Natasha’s eyes remain on the kids dancing all the while that you speak to someone who clearly works here.

You note how quiet she is, the expressions passing over her face as she looks at the kids. The two of you walk around a corner and head up the stairs that are hidden behind a door.

The entire second floor of the building is empty and dark but the flick of a light switch reveals a second dance studio.

Natasha glances at her reflection as her eyes pan over the floor to ceiling mirrors lining both sides of the room. There aren’t any windows up here like downstairs and as your intent of today’s date registers with her, she becomes grateful of that fact.

She turns to face you after she’s stepped into the middle of the wooden dance floor. You’re spreading a small blanket out on the floor, digging through the picnic basket.

“Is this more for me or for you?” She asks, grabbing your attention as her hands gesturing around the room.

Tilting your head a little, you smile and answer.“ It’s for both of us. Even if you don’t feel like dancing right now, we can still have a picnic and listen to music.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, still getting used to how understanding and compassionate you are. It goes without saying that a lot of people she’s met hadn’t been so lenient when it came to getting things from her.

“No, I-” the corner of her lips quirk up and you smile a little.“ I want to dance for you.”

As you pull the small speaker from the basket, Natasha starts to stretch, not wanting to pull a muscle or look tense while dancing for you.

Your gaze occasionally landed on her as you connected your phone and looked for the playlist you’d curated for today. Her focus was mainly on her limbs, making sure she was doing her stretches properly, but her green eyes would meet yours every so often, a look in them like you’d never seen before.

She stands, stretching her arms once again before she nods to you. With a hope that your selected songs are good enough you press play.

Happening to find Natasha dancing is nothing compared to watching her fall into it. There’s something more beautiful about it.

When you first saw her, she’d made every move perfectly, not a single action made with fault. Right now however, you got to see the build up. The way she seems slightly uncertain at first, her limbs searching for the rhythm of the song and working to match it. While she doesn’t stumble or trip you can still see how she thinks and plots every move intensely.

All together though, with a single turn at the crescendo of the song, it goes away. From that point on she loses herself like you saw the first time. Movements matching the song perfectly.

As she falls into dancing you fall deeper for her, lost in the redhead completely and wholly.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha wasn’t just falling into her dance. Like you had days ago, she realizes she loves you, that she’s currently falling deeper.

How could she not, with the way your eyes watch her as if caught in a spell. Or the way you smile softly when you catch sight of her face. Or the fact that you’d planned this day in general.

This, her dancing, was a side of herself Natasha had never exposed to anyone. Her training was forced on her by an organization that valued her ability to kill with no regard to her dancing skills.

Dancing was written off to her long ago, something she chose to reject after escaping the Red Room. But she’d remember how it felt to dance, even if it was for them, and that mattered more. In fact it made it even better.

She started dancing again but this time it was because she liked it and because she wanted to reclaim that. She wouldn’t let dancing be something else the Red Room tainted for her.

Every dance, each move, was another step away from the person they wanted her to be and closer to who she wanted to be. And there you are, watching her transform. There you are, watching as she exposes herself to you in a way she hadn’t anyone else.

It’s clear you love it, that you appreciate it. That’s why she loves you, why she can’t possibly imagine regretting the decision to fall for you.

Even though you don’t know she loves you, this is just the beginning. As she finishes her dance, chest rising and falling with each deep breath, green eyes boring into yours as you smile brightly and clap for her, she knows you’ll have plenty of time for her to tell you how she truly feels.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @ecruzsalaz

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert #moment in time

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ariverrunsviolet · 3 years

Text

Hostage Situation (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Summary: A surprise attack has left you captured and under interrogation by an unknown enemy. Only one thing brings you comfort; a certain soldier is out there looking for you.

Gif @ gifbuckybarnes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Timeline: Post The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Reader is a fellow Avenger that has teamed up with Sam and Bucky. Warnings: Violence, sexual assault, language Words: 2158

Songs I listed to while writing this: Opus by Hoity-Toity, Next Contestant by Nickelback, Protecting Me by Aly & AJ Let me know what you guys think! I have ideas for a part two *Please don't repost this anywhere! Especially without my permission!*

“You’re a stubborn one, ain’t ya?”

You managed to pool a mouthful of spit and blood and hocked it in the direction of your captor. Your breathing was heavier than normal after their relentless interrogation efforts. Time was lost to you; it could have been 12 hours or a whole week since you had been separated from the group and captured.

It had been a surprise attack; Torres’ intel didn’t account for the blitz that struck and took you away from Sam and Bucky. It had all happened so fast—the smoke bombs, a harsh tase to your back, and you woke up here. In this hellhole.

The greasy interrogator lit a freshly drawn cigarette between his fingers and took a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out in your face. “How much longer do you think you can hold out love?”

You refused to look him in the eye as he took another puff. With a screech of his chair and a few steps forward, he yanked the back of your hair and made you face him. As you gasped in surprise, he plunged his mouth into yours and exhaled again. He planted himself firmly against your mouth and nose; you couldn’t release his breath at all. The smoke burned your nose, throat, and lungs as you choked on it.

He finally, finally, pulled away and you struggled to breathe as tears streamed out of your good eye—the other was swollen shut—and down your bruised face.

“I can hold out as long as you, darlin’. Trust me, I’m enjoyin’ myself.” He said, eyeing your uniform. He unsheathed a dagger from his belt and did a quick and clean slice up the center of the clothing, leaving you exposed in just your bra. With your hands chained to the seat behind you, there was nothing you could do to cover yourself.

You kept up your stone-faced resolve. It was an intimidation tactic, and you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of watching you squirm.

“Yeah…Yeah, I think I’ve found some more to enjoy.” The dozen lackeys spread throughout the big, empty room either snickered or stayed eerily quiet.

Before you could manage to spit at him in disgust a second time, you heard a clutter of noises down the hall. They were stifled through the thick walls, but consistent and growing closer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a warmth of relief spread through your stomach and you managed a small smirk.

“The hell is going on out there?” One of his henchmen by the door grunted as he pulled out his gun.

“Don’t ask me you moron, go check on it!” The lead interrogator barked. The one by the door nodded to the man next to him and they entered a code into the keypad. With a hiss, the door slid open, and the two rounded the corner to search.

As the door slid back to a close, the leader of the group finally seemed to register the look on your face. “And what the fuck has you looking so giddy?”

“The last mistake you’ll ever make.” You rasped out, giving a full bloody smile, counting down in your head.

By the time you reached down to one, there was a slam against the door to the room, a large, rounded dent showing in the thick metal. The pounding continued, each time adding a newer, thicker bulge to the door. It only took a few more punches until the door flew into room, knocking down one of the men.

And there he was in the doorway, with his shining arm and clear blue eyes. There was just a moment as he locked his gaze with yours and you saw wave after wave of relief, rage, and an assessment of the room all come through his face in that brief second.

The lead interrogator started screaming for his men to attack, but they were already at a critical disadvantage. Bucky was on a warpath, and everyone else in the room was just fodder when it came to his end goal: you.

One of the men dangerously close to the avenging soldier stuck his assault weapon right in Bucky’s face. Gripping the front of the gun, the ringing of bullets stopped at his vibranium palm and jammed the front of the weapon. Yanking it out of the henchmen’s grip, Bucky swung out with it and clocked the aggravator clean across the face, knocking him out cold. These weren’t super soldiers they were dealing with; just sneaky men with big guns and smoke bombs trying to play in the big leagues.

And Bucky was tearing through them like tissue paper. You couldn’t help but feel growing satisfaction; the only thing that would’ve made it better was being free to do it all yourself.

As you watched him move through the room, calculating, quick, and aggressive, the average eye could assume The Winter Soldier was active again. He was snapping guns in half like they were twigs, flipping through the air, and throwing men into each other so hard that they crashed into the wall and laid dazed on the ground. All of this while deathly silent and his eyes glazed over in a look of duty and fury.

Except when he sparingly glanced back at you. Quick looks, making sure you were still there. In those quick, apologetic glances, you could see what he was saying. ‘I’ll be there in a second, hold on.’

He was taking care of the last of the lackies when you felt a hand grip your chin and cold metal shove into your temple. You could feel the slight shaking coming off the leader, as he whistled loudly to get Bucky’s attention.

After an effective punch to the solar plexus of the last of the henchmen, Bucky spun around and set his sights on the handgun rammed into your face. His muscles tensed and for a second, you saw terror flit through his blue orbs before rounding back to steely resolve and rising to meet the gaze of the man that held you captive.

“Drop your weapon.” A demand, with a wall of threatening anger standing tall behind his words.

“Not a chance, Barnes.” The man squeezed your face, making you hiss in response. Bucky’s fists tightened. “If you come any closer, her brain turns into confetti.”

“You do that, and nothing will stop me from breaking every one of your bones into splinters with my bare hands.” Even though you were currently held at gunpoint, Bucky’s threat made you go cold, and a shiver ran up your spine. You didn’t have to be close to the super soldier to know he sincerely meant every word coming out of his mouth.

“You won’t risk it. Not on her life.” His finger hovered over the trigger. “I know that arm comes off your body. Remove it.” Bucky didn’t move a muscle until the man jammed the gun hard into your face, making you wince and causing a quiet cry to escape your throat. “Now!”

Bucky’s resolve broke for an instant, his face panicked until he locked eyes with you. You tried to make it as apparent as you could with just your facial expressions; you had a last-ditch effort ready. Your pupils flicked down to the man’s hand holding your jaw, and you gave a slight and quick head tilt back and looked to Bucky’s face to see if he knew what you were plotting. He understood you like no one else, and with a hesitant, affirmative nod from him, you moved with haste.

Your teeth gnashed down into the man’s hand as you shoved your feet into the floor and launched your chair backwards into the goon behind you. Natasha had taught you this move way back when. The man yelped in surprise and started shooting wildly. You fell to the floor as you watched Bucky cover himself with his arm as a shield, the bullets showering off his vibranium buffer as he surged forward.

You couldn’t see what happened after Bucky had rushed past your line of sight, but the noises you heard told you that he was giving a thorough, yet justified, beating to the man that had haggled with your life.

Even though you were sure Bucky could go at it all day, it wasn’t long until you felt his arms around you, gently pulling your form and the chair upright. He twisted his metal fingers into your shackles, attempting to safely free you, all the while saying “It’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe.” You guessed he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring you.

You wanted to jokingly ask “What took you so long?” But you knew he was probably internally beating himself up, asking the same question. Instead, you settled on a quiet but sincere “my hero.”

Your bindings fell to the floor in a flurry of metal clangs and even after singlehandedly dismantling an entire room of kidnappers, Bucky was unprepared for the way your arms whipped up and around his neck, pulling him down to you. His arms instinctively enveloped you, and you knew, you were certain, that you could never feel safer than you did in that moment.

He breathed in all of you, and briefly closed his eyes, relaxing into your hold like warm putty. Both of you needed this more than the other realized.

You pulled away briefly, feeling tears run down your face in warm streaks again, this time in relief. His thumb gently padded them away, careful to avoid your bruised eye, and then rested on your lips. You had no idea how long your eyes were locked into each other until you heard a groaning behind Bucky.

Your stomach, currently swirling with relief and pulsing with adrenaline, felt a hot stab of anger strike through you as you made your way to the man angrily grunting on the floor; Bucky hovered protectively behind you as you moved.

The man’s left arm had been dislocated, and you saw some of his teeth sprinkled on the floor around his face. Your arms stiffened with growing fury as you remembered all of the hell he had gleefully put you through—all of the pain, and embarrassment. You started to reflexively pull your torn clothes around your torso until you felt the warmth of Bucky’s leather jacket cover you. It smelled of pine, and fire, and gunpowder, and just—him. It made you tingle from head to toe as your arms found their way into the sleeves—well, one of the sleeves. Your left harm hung out the gaping hole that was normally meant for Bucky’s vibranium extremity as you zipped up the front.

“We gotta get moving. There are probably more coming that’ll be here any second.” He looked back over his shoulder to the open doorway as he debriefed you, his hand lightly tugging at yours.

“Just give me a second.” You squeezed his hand in response and knelt to fully tower over the shell of a man that had once joyfully taken part in torturing you.

It looked like he was about to say something, probably snarky and condescending, but you beat him to the punch with a swift uppercut into his solar plexus, like Bucky taught you. All of the air left his lungs in a pained shout and he curled into a fetal position, wrapping his one good arm around himself and groaning.

You stood quickly and turned to Bucky, who nodded approvingly and looked impressed, but not surprised, at your aim and the power of your strike. “Okay, I’m good to go now…” your voice faded; the adrenaline flushed out of your system like water running from a faucet. The strong wall that you had put up to survive the interrogation began to dissolve, and it suddenly took everything you had to stay standing, or even keep your eyes open. Your knees gave way and Bucky’s arms were around you in an instant, breaking your fall.

“Hey, (Y/N).” He carefully tapped your cheek a few times trying to rouse you. “Hey, c’mon, stay with me. Please. (Y/N)!”

“Mmmm so sleepy…” you mumbled. “Quick nap, then I’ll be…” you trailed off unwillingly from the dizziness and heard him curse as he hastily called into his earpiece for Sam, demanding he fly his ass and shield down to our location, pronto. His arms swiftly and surely lifted you up into his chest.

‘Thank you for finding me…Bucky’ You would have sworn on your life, in that moment, that you had only thought those words. You had no strength remaining at this point, and darkness was closing in around you. But you must have either said it out loud, or you and Bucky truly had an impenetrable connection. Because he gave your form a light squeeze and the last thing you heard was him mumble assuredly.

“Always.”

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes x You #Protective #Angst #Hostage #Hurt and comfort #Defensive #Romantic #Protector #Hero #Savior #Hostage Situation

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

The Nie brothers time travel but something goes wrong and they end up in each other bodies. So now they have to defeat WRH, find a way to curb JGY worst tendencies, and hide (and undo) the switch before any cultivator decides they are possesed by evil spirits

“I can’t do this,” Nie Huaisang announced heavily. “I can’t. Nope. Cannot. No way.”

“You apparently found a way to time travel into the past,” his brother pointed out. He was taking this entire thing very calmly – or, rather, like he’d heard a really great joke. It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang had forgotten that his brother had a sense of humor hidden under the rage, especially in the earlier years before Jin Guangyao got at him, but he may have downplayed his memories of how annoying it was to be the target of it. “Your abilities are clearly well beyond what you’ve been leading me to believe.”

“I’m sneaky,” Nie Huaisang explained. “I can scheme and plot and play politics, sometimes, if I have to. But I cannot be a general!”

I cannot be you, he meant. He might currently be inhabiting his long-dead brother’s body – an unfortunate side effect of messing up the time travel array, he suspected, but then again experimental things were often imperfect – while his brother’s spirit had been cast out into his own former self, but he wasn’t his brother.

He could never be.

(But Nie Mingjue was alive, alive and well with bright eyes and that stupid smirk that didn’t fit right on Nie Huaisang’s smaller face except in the ways it sort of did, and that was all Nie Huaisang had ever wanted in his life, other than Jin Guangyao to pay in blood and shame for depriving him of it.)

“Why not?” his brother asked. He leaned back and stretched lazily. Nie Mingjue never did a lazy thing in his whole life, so it was deliberate. He was enjoying this. “We have a battle strategy, already decided; most of the rest of it is on-the-ground tactics, which can be done just as well from behind the lines as at the front of them. There’s a reason that no one ever settled on the best place for a war-leader to be – it comes down to temperament.”

Nie Huaisang threw his hands into the air. “I know that! I was sect leader for nearly two decades, da-ge; I assure you, I’ve heard all the sect’s philosophical musings by now. But I don’t have your temperament – there’s no way someone won’t figure out what’s happened, that we’ve switched, and that’ll be a disaster.”

“Two decades,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully, focusing on the entirely wrong part of the conversation.

“A decade and a half to avenge your untimely murder,” that got a flinch out of his brother and his focus back, just as Nie Huaisang had wanted, “and another five to find a way to come back and avert it entirely.”

Nie Huaisang had always been resourceful. Resourceful, and ruthless – sometimes to a degree that scared even him.

When he was younger, it was okay. After all, the only thing he used it for was sneaking treats and spoiling himself, and it didn’t really matter if he was ruthless about stuff like that. And then his brother died – was murdered – and suddenly he knew what it was like to be his brother: a young man suddenly shoved into the role of sect leader, and having to balance everything he now had to be against the overwhelming blistering hatred he bore for and the crippling weight of the vengeance he had sworn against a man who had taken away someone he loved forever for something as pointless and ephemeral as political advantage.

(He had to take a deep breath at the mere thought of it, the family rage spiking under his skin. It was a bit of a surprise, actually, to find that his brother didn’t have more of it - he’d always assumed that his rage was lesser, weaker, the way his golden core was, but no. It turned out their rage was just the same.)

“So what you’re saying,” his brother said, and he was smirking again, oh no, “is that you’re focused, efficient, and unyielding in pursuit of your goals, given the right motivation. That sounds like general material to me.”

“Not if the goal is to make sure no one knows what’s happened,” Nie Huaisang hissed. Had own face always looked so incredibly punchable? “Da-ge, it doesn’t matter what type of general I might be. What matters is that it’s not the same type of general you are – you’re always at the front line, leading the charge. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” his brother said. “By the time you’re in the middle of a charge, you’re not really thinking tactics anymore. It’s all just fighting, and I know you know all the moves, no matter how much you bitch and moan about having to practice them.”

Nie Huaisang glared, crossing his arms over his chest – his brother’s arms, his brother’s chest, and this was still just too weird. He hadn’t even had time to properly weep and cry and hug his brother the way he’d expected to in the event the time travel array worked; they’d had to jump straight into explanations and strategizing because there was a pretty big battle happening in less than twenty-four hours and they needed to fix this first.

His brother rolled his eyes at him, and for the first time Nie Huaisang realized that his brother was going to have no problem at all pretending to be him – the acting problem here went only one way. “Just let Baxia handle the aggression part, okay? The rest is muscle memory, and I, at least, have done enough to build that in.”

“Letting the saber spirit in like that is dangerous, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang reminded him, eyes narrowed. His brother was also assuming that Baxia would agree to be wielded by anyone other than her beloved master, which was a stretch – she barely even agreed to be sharpened by someone else, resisting violently whenever someone tried.

Jin Guangyao had died still bearing the scars from his attempt.

“Well, apparently I get murdered before it becomes an issue, so why worry?” his brother cackled, and Nie Huaisang glared harder. It had no impact whatsoever: Nie Mingjue stood up and stretched again. “You know what, Huaisang, if you’re feeling the need to sit around and pity yourself, you’ve got at least a few incense sticks’ worth of time to do it in before actually doing something becomes necessary – I, on the other hand, am going to do something productive with my time.”

“Like what?”

His brother grinned at him with teeth. “Saber training. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Nie Huaisang picked up a teacup and hurtled it at his beloved big brother’s head. Naturally, Nie Mingjue dodged, effortlessly, and left laughing.

“At least pretend like you’re going to behave!” Nie Huaisang bellowed after him, but his brother just waved at him, and – ugh. This was vengeance for a lifetime of laziness, wasn’t it? Coming to bite him in the ass.

After a few minutes, Nie Huaisang picked up another teacup – they always had dozens of them in the Nie sect, cheaply made in bulk and specifically designed to shatter easily because of the family tendency to throw stuff around and not calm down until something was broken, and better a cheap teacup than an expensive door or table, better something designed not to hurt anyone who happened to get in the way or didn’t know how to duck faster enough – and threw it against the door again.

It shattered beautifully. NIe Huaisang had only rarely been able to get it to do that, and never so effortlessly – the advantage of his brother’s strength.

Strength, and height. Nie Huaisang was tall now.

Okay, self-pity could wait until later. Nie Huaisang was going to go patrol the camp for a little bit and enjoy looking down at all the people.

It was going to be great.

It was, too. Even talking with people wasn’t as difficult as he thought it was going to be. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised at that; he had been sect leader for years, so he was accustomed to answering questions and making on-the-fly rearrangements and responding to things with leading questions that made the other person come up with the solution on their own, not to mention saying encouraging things that made people feel better about things.

He’d had to do a lot of that, being the Head-shaker, and even more afterwards, when he’d shed his disguise like a cicada shedding its skin.

It was easier now than it had ever been before, of course. The Nie sect was still strong, under his brother’s leadership; his disciples didn’t have that discouraged look lurking in the back of their eyes, the shame of being led by the disgraceful Head-shaker. It was easy to brighten someone’s day with a nod in their direction, disciples blooming like roses at the sight of their stern sect leader looking approving, and the questions he received were far more intellectually stimulating than the usual – less about making sure he knew what he was supposed to do and more actual puzzles, things that had really tripped people up.

Nie Huaisang tried at first to keep his answers short, tried to pretend to be more stoic and stand-offish the way the famous Chifeng-zun ought to be, except when he did everyone just smiled at him the way they always had when he’d been the Head-shaker – a little indulgent, a little pitying, a little “well he’s trying his best” – and after a while Nie Huaisang started remembering things he’d long ago forgotten.

Things like how his brother was actually kind of a mess sometimes, emotionally speaking – he was the sort of person who got weepy over dramatic literature – and how he’d never quite gotten the hang of people, how he valued his friends like gold and held grudges way too long and promoted people just because they seemed decent; how he sometimes spent his entire money pouch and more on buying Nie Huaisang stupid trinkets because it seemed to make him happy, even borrowing money from their escort, which would always be doubled over laughing at how their fearsome sect leader couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Like how Nie Huaisang’s sect was his family, aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, whether born in or adopted or just part of the sect. The good type of family – not always the closest, not always your friends, not always even people you really liked, but still all predisposed to take your side in a fight if it came down to it.

These were the people who supported him and stood behind him – even when he was the Head-shaker.

He’d almost forgotten.

And so, despite himself, Nie Huaisang softened a bit. He stopped trying to respond to everything with a grunt or a huff, started asking about people’s families, making suggestions, telling them they’d done a good job.

“Glad you’re out of your mood,” Nie Yongbiao, who’d been quietly trailing him, finally commented, and Nie Huaisang blinked owlishly at him. “What kicked it off this time? You usually only get that closed-mouth after having to host guests.”

And that was true, wasn’t it? It had been such a long time, and after so much trauma, that Nie Huaisang had forgotten how his brother used to shut down whenever there was a discussion conference or an important meeting – how it took him longer and longer to get better on the other side as the qi deviation drew nearer, his meridians filling with Jin Guangyao’s spiritual poison. By the end, he had barely ever been open and free, barely seemed to remember how to drop his guard and relax, to act like a regular person with a sense of humor again, be the person Nie Huaisang knew his brother to be.

But that was then, and this was now - war had been good for Nie Mingjue, in a strange way. Here in the camps there was a lessened expectation of etiquette, a great appreciation of strength, and his brother was more free to be himself, straightforward and blunt as the off side of a saber.

(Nie Mingjue had tried so hard to be a good brother to Jin Guangyao, Nie Huaisang abruptly remembered, but he’d shut down after every visit, worse than ever before. His heart had known the truth, even if he had allowed himself to be convinced by Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang to keep giving Jin Guangyao second chance after second chance. He should never have listened to them.)

“Argument with Huaisang,” he said, a safe answer, and Nie Yongbiao nodded wisely.

“Can you say what it was about?” he asked, rather unexpectedly – Nie Yongbiao wasn’t exactly talkative, and no one ever pried about their family affairs. Catching Nie Huaisang’s surprised look, he shrugged. “He’s obviously very upset.”

“He is?”

“He’s at the training field,” Nie Yongbiao stressed, and Nie Huaisang had to choke down a hysterical laugh. Of course Nie Yongbiao would think that something must have gone horribly wrong to get “Nie Huaisang” to go willingly to train.

Nor was Nie Yongbiao the only one, for that matter: when Nie Huaisang arrived at the training field they’d set up in the middle of the camp, he saw an entire crowd of Nie sect disciples milling around at the edge of the field, bearing a suspicious resemblance to a flock of over-anxious quail.

He reached up to his face, pretending to want to pinch the bridge of his nose but actually to smother a smile, and luckily he had regained control of his features by the time he reached the edge of the small sea of disciples because they immediately all turned to him with relieved expressions, their cries of “Sect Leader! Sect Leader!” ringing in his ears like the coos of his pet birds.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, and immediately received the full story: Nie Huaisang had come to the field looking upset – one person insisted there had been tears in his eyes – and had set himself up against a practice dummy, and he hadn’t stopped whacking at it ever since.

Clearly, the world was ending.

“We had an argument earlier,” Nie Huaisang admitted, and managed, barely, not to laugh at how they all looked at him with disapproving eyes. “I’ll talk with him.”

Approving nods all around, although they didn’t disperse.

“Sect Leader,” one of the older generation said, very hesitantly. “If it’s about – the clan matter – if there’s anything we can do to help –”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, feeling touched. When it really had been him, his brother had kept the specifics of it secret – the tombs, the inevitability, the deterioration he was so avidly trying to put off – until it was too late, and he’d had to learn about it the hard way; it was nice, though, that they apparently all worried so much on his behalf about it.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “But it’s a different issue.”

Namely, the issue was that the person doing the training wasn’t Nie Huaisang at all, he thought, but when the crowd finally started breaking apart, people going back to their assigned tasks, and he finally managed to make his way to where his brother was, he was surprised to see that his brother really did appear to be upset.

He wasn’t practicing any of his normal training routines, but rather wielding Aituan in the same way a novice woodcutter would wield an axe: repetitive strikes, made wildly and with too much strength, as if hitting the practice dummy was the only thing that could vent his feelings.

“Uh, ‘Huaisang’?” Nie Huaisang asked, worrying his lip as he came closer. “Are you –”

His brother dropped Aituan to the ground – which, hey! Watch it, that was his saber! – and turned, and Nie Huaisang had only a moment to see his glassy eyes before his brother threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

Nie Huaisang automatically responded, wrapping his arms back around and holding Nie Mingjue close – it was nice, he thought, to finally have the reach he’d always felt he should have, big and tall and enveloping in its warm the way his brother had been for him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice low enough not to carry. “Did something happen…?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, but his lips were pressed together to keep them from trembling. Nie Huaisang’s body had always been free with his emotions, much to his annoyance; he’d learned to cultivate it into a disguise, but he hadn’t really liked it. Tears had never been a relief for him the way they’d been for his brother. “No, it’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing,” Nie Huaisang said firmly, and carted him off back to his tent. Being as worried as he was, he did his best not to be too smug about finally being the one who was strong enough to pick his brother up, rather than the other way around – not that he needed to, what with his brother following docilely along with him – but there was, perhaps, a little bit of smugness. “Okay, we’re back, silencing talismans are back up because we apparently have the nosiest disciples. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing, really…”

“Da-ge.”

“I left you alone,” his brother blurted out, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “For twenty years. Whatever I did, however I got murdered – some moment of carelessness – it doesn’t matter. I failed you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no–

“No,” he said out loud. “No, da-ge, you were tricked – it wasn’t – it wasn’t your fault.”

“I always said I would hold up the sky for you,” Nie Mingjue said bitterly. “And instead I left you with the same inheritance that I received. I never wanted that for you, Huaisang. Never.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said helplessly. “Da-ge, you don’t understand. You were trying. You wanted – you were doing everything you could. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me. I was the one who failed you. I’ve always failed you –”

“Never!”

“I’m lazy, I’m selfish, I’m good-for-nothing, a head-shaker –”

“So what?” his brother said, glaring up at him. His eyes were red, but with tears, not qi deviation. “Even if it’s true, which it isn’t, because no head-shaker could have avenged me, could have found a way to come back, could have become the Nie sect leader and kept it for two decades, even if it’s true – so what? As long as you’re safe, I don’t care. As long as you have a way to defend yourself, and you so obviously must have, then nothing else matters. Nothing has ever mattered but your happiness.”

“And yours,” Nie Huaisang shot back. “You have the right to a life too, da-ge! You – you should have had my support. You should have been able to share your burdens, I should have helped you instead of anchored you down –”

“Huaisang –”

Nie Huaisang pulled him in tight again. “It’ll be different, this time,” he promised, his voice rough. “I’m older than you ever go the chance to be, da-ge. This time, I can help you with the things you’re not good at – I can do the politics, the people. We can bear the weight of the sect together.”

He felt a whisper in the back of his mind that was strange and yet familiar, approving. Baxia, he realized. Baxia, approving of him; Baxia, who would let him wield her, and he sensed her confidence that no one would get past her iron guard, together protecting his brother in both body and soul.

“All right,” his brother said. “Together. You and me – and the others.”

“Others?”

“After so many years, you must know who’s trustworthy,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. Already back to being practical, even if he was wiping his eyes. “If we tell those people, they can help us keep up the impression that I’m you and you’re me for as long as we need it.”

Nie Huaisang was nodding along, because that made sense, only then his brother said the last part and it was like a sunrise had opened up in his head, the way terrible and wonderful ideas always did.

“Da-ge,” he said, tasting the words in his mouth. “Da-ge, how do you like my body?”

His brother blinked up at him. “It’s fine, I guess? You’re actually in pretty decent shape, better than I thought, and your cultivation is – well, you could do a bit more with that, honestly, but it’s not uncomfortable or anything. Why?”

Nie Huaisang smiled. He’d always been remarkably resistant to their family’s cultivation curse, and not only, as he’d pretended to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji all those years ago, because he didn’t practice - it was his temper, or lack thereof, that softened the saber spirit’s effects on him.

Even if his body’s cultivation increased, he was far enough behind the curve, with his mediocre talent, that it would take decades for him to reach the level that it would be dangerous to him, while his brother’s prodigious talent, coupled with his inheritance of the family temper, made him even more likely to succumb – it was that prediction which had worried him so much that he had sought out treatment even before it had become a serious problem, the same worries that had driven him into Jin Guangyao’s trap.

What do you think? he asked the brand-new whisper in his mind. Aituan would probably bitch and moan about having to actually do things, but he’d secretly enjoy getting a bit more evil-killing in; the question was Baxia. What would she think?

A purr of agreement.

“I was just thinking,” Nie Huaisang said. “Chronologically speaking, I’m older than you are. I ran the sect for years – it might be hard to let go of that habit. How about we just…stay as we are, for now?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “Baxia –”

“I’ll use her in public, and Aituan in private,” Nie Huaisang interrupted. He’d known that would be his brother’s first concern. “And you’ll do the opposite. And when we’re settled enough, we’ll come up with some excuse to switch.”

His brother hesitated. “But…you don’t like doing things. Responsibility. That sort of thing.”

“I got over it,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Trust me, I have a whole system – I’ll implement it once the Sunshot Campaign is done; you’ll be amazed at how much easier it makes things, and then all the things that are left over are the stuff I actually enjoy. And this way, you could…I…”

He swallowed, and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. He didn’t want to manipulate his brother into something like this – he didn’t want to manipulate his brother at all. His brother deserved the truth and honesty he had always freely given the world, and so Nie Huaisang could only offer up the unvarnished truth.

“I want to do this for you, da-ge,” he said. “I want you to have the life you should have had. I want you to have hobbies again, to make friends, real friends that will put you first. I want you to have fun with them without thinking of how people might think about it…please, da-ge. I came back here to keep you alive, but I want more than that. I want to see you live.”

“Okay,” his brother said, and he was choking back tears again. “We’ll – we’ll discuss it later, but I’ll think about it. Okay.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now catch me up on the tactics we’re planning on using in tomorrow’s battle, and I’ll let you know everything I know about what happens in the future…oh, and one more thing.”

“Oh?”

Nie Huaisang’s hand dropped to the table, parallel to Baxia; he could hear her purr in his mind whistling like the rumble of thunder. He smiled.

“Can you tell me where Meng Yao is?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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