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wordstome · 5 months

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kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

#I hope I managed to tag everyone!!!#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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amomentsescape · 3 months

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Bro, I love your writing so much and it’s so cool to see some new Gotham stuff pop up on my feed s🥹❤️❤️🥹❤️🥹 if it’s alright, could I please have some fluffy and slightly suggestive headcanons of some Gotham boys, including but not limited to the J squad, with a punk or alt s/o? If you don’t want to do anything suggestive, tho, I totally understand

Please and thank you in advance if you decide to do this ❤️

J Squad + Oswald, Victor, & Bruce with Punk! Reader

Includes: Jerome, Jonathan, Jervis, Oswald, Victor, Bruce

A/N: I hope you enjoy! I wasn't able to make every character suggestive, but I tried my best to make the HC's fit your request!

Jerome Valeska

He loves your aesthetic

Has asked you time and time again to help him get dressed before a heist

Thinks your outfits would not only look badass while murdering people, but they would also help you blend in at night

"Practical and sexy, doll"

Loves when you place your tall, leather combat boot on his leg, asking him sweetly to help you lace it up

He likes to trace his fingers along your leg at this, sometimes going a little too high which earns him a swift smack to the hand

He just lets out a chuckle at this

"I'll get you back later..."

If you're out and about and he notices people looking at you, he immediately helps you embrace it

Will twirl you around in the middle of the street and place a big kiss to your lips

Whispers in your ear how gorgeous and sexy you are whenever he gets the chance

If he's out on a heist and he sees something he thinks you'll like, he'll take it

Even if it steers him off his current mission a bit

Starts having you paint his nails religiously as "good luck"

But in reality, he just likes how his pretty fingertips look wrapped around your neck

Jonathan Crane

This sweet boy is in awe of you

Your edgy looks, your interests, everything

He's never been introduced into this genre before, but you've opened a whole new world for him

Absolutely falls in love with the music you listen to

He just connects to it so well

He also adores being a dress up doll for you

Want to try out a new makeup look on him? Go for it.

You want to see what he'd look like in an edgier outfit? He's ready.

You want to dye his hair a crazy, experimental color? Let's do it!

Seeing him dressed similar to you empowers him in a way

He's used to being hidden in the background, so you pulling him away from that insecurity is like a completely different life to him

Gets extra touchy when you have chokers on

Will softly give you little kisses just above and below the accessory

He's ashamed of it, but he lets his eyes wander for just a little too long when you get all dressed up

He tries to hide it but will turn into a huge blushing and stuttering mess if you catch him in the act

Jervis Tetch

He's definitely intrigued by you

He's used to his world being full of chaotic color and fantasy

But you have this certain edge and uniqueness about you that he hasn't come across before

They say opposites attract for a reason

He feels like you balance him out

You actually help him feel his emotions and openly discuss the things floating around in his head

But of course, being opposites still come with a few disagreements

He finds your taste in music and makeup a little... much

His taste is a little softer and more elegant, but he's not one to judge what you enjoy

He's just tried listening to a couple of your favorite songs and found them scary

He's also not very knowledgeable in this particular genre

So if you bring up something, he'll simply look at you like you've grown a third head

But besides that, he's overall supportive on whatever you want to wear or do

Loves when you both get dressed up together for a night out

It gives him a deep sense of thrill when people look at you both while out

You two may have opposite styles, but your aesthetics are similar in the fact that they don't "fit in" with the public eye

And Jervis honestly loves that

Oswald Cobblepot

You caught Oswald's eye almost immediately when he first encountered you

Something about the way you held yourself drew him in

And when he got to know you?

He was so interested

He wanted to learn more about your clothing choices, the music and art styles you liked, what made you interested in the aesthetic, etc.

He might not share the same exact passion for the things you do, but he will always be very respectful on supporting your interests

He also just finds your look to be super attractive

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself becoming a little more submissive around you

He's used to throwing out orders and making decisions in his normal day-to-day life

But coming home to you immediately allows him let go of those reigns

You just tell him what to do, and he'll do it

You've accidentally gotten him to whimper a couple times just by complimenting him or giving him words of praise

When you kiss him, you can feel his whole body fall into you

He literally turns into Jello

But he's still an emotional man too, so give him lots of love and attention, and he'll be fully content

Victor Zsasz

Well, obviously he adores how you look

I mean, he wouldn't consider his own look to be punk, but he's aware that he's taken inspiration from the genre in the past

Honestly thinks you two make a badass duo

Even the Zsaszettes admire you whenever you're around

He also likes how easy it is to spot you in a crowd

Not that he stalks you while he's out "working" or anything

He loves your normal outfits of course, but if you wear anything that shows a little skin?

Oh boy, does that dark gleam shine in his eye

He just about sinks his teeth into you (literally)

Victor is known to keep his cool no matter what, but you are able to tell when he really likes a particular outfit that day

A hand on your lower back, a lingering glance, and a teasing smile are all signs

But he also will not hesitate to pinch your butt at the most random times too, public or not

Makes you hold his weapons sometimes because he thinks they make you look even edgier

He also has a thing for any piercings you have too

He's not sure what it is, but he's fascinated with how the cool metal sinks into your skin

He'll play with them too if you let him

He's careful not to hurt you

Unless that's what you want, of course...

Bruce Wayne

He honestly doesn't really think anything of it or notice it much

Which isn't a bad thing by any means

Bruce doesn't judge based on looks, so however you decide to present yourself is just who you are in his eyes

But he also cares a lot about your interests

He'll happily sit beside you and listen to your music, shop with you for new clothes, and come with you for your latest piercing or tattoo

You name it, he's there

If it means a lot to you, then it means a lot to him

But he does think it's pretty cool to have such a badass partner

Has helped you dye your hair a handful of times

He kind of gets a slight thrill from knowing that he's the only one that gets to see all sides to you

People may see you one way when you're out in public, but he also gets to see you when you're at home sleeping in his bed or cuddled up on his couch watching some crazy show he's never heard of

He just likes knowing that he gets all of you

He finds it pretty romantic

Really likes any leather pieces you own

You may have persuaded him to buy a couple jackets based on ones that you already had in your closet

But he especially loves the leather on you

Becomes a bit touchier when you have it on, tracing his hands along the material

He thinks it looks great on you and will definitely let his gaze linger a little longer than usual

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terapsina · 7 months

Note

#2 for the book worm ask game!

(ask game)

2. Favorite fantasy book(s).

(Eeeeexcellent, I do love fantasy books. Though how I'm gonna narrow it to only a few I've got no idea. Okay. I'm going to remove the very obvious choices like Lord of the Rings (though it is one of my faves)).

---

Monstrous Regiment. I love the entire Discworld series (especially The Witches) but I've also got a huge soft spot in my heart for Terry Pratchett's take on 'a girl dresses like a boy to go to war' (and thinks of everything except some spare socks in- erm... the right place). Along with Polly, the squad consists of a vampire, a troll, an Igor, a religious fanatic and two very, very close "friends" (and yes, the official summary put the friends in quotes too). And everyone has their own secret.

I love basically everything about this book and I can't tell you guys any of it because it would spoil all the fun.

The Goblin Emperor. This one's a story filled with light. Maia the half goblin son of the elven Emperor was never supposed to take the throne (or to ever even be at court. because racism). And then everyone ahead of him dies in a single "accident" and suddenly he's the new Emperor. Maia is a good person, and a kind one, and despite everything that gets thrown at him he keeps hold of that understanding of right and wrong and refuses to bend.

(I have to mention that the language of the writing is kinda hard to get into in the beginning, and the characters's have very complicated and long names, but once you get into it it really did enhance the story for me).

Good Omens. An Angel and a Demon try to stop the apocalypse and instead lose the Antichrist. I've loved that book for like a decade now and if I don't put it on a list of my faves that list would be a lie.

The King of Attolia. Third in The Queen's Thief series and my favorite one out of all of them. I've always enjoyed Outsider POV in fics. And here is a book that just... proves why. We've got Eugenides and Irene, the Thief and the Queen, and we know them from the two previous books. And adore them. But the story isn't from their POV, it's from the POV of Costis, a Queen's guard who's suddenly gotten assigned to the King. The useless, weak, undeserving king that as far as Costis is concerned doesn't deserve to even kiss the Queen's boots. And it's hilarious to read the story from the eyes of someone who knows so much less than us. And so satisfying, as he begins to understand.

(I recommend the whole series and am personally glad to have read them in the published order but Megan Whalen Turner has stated that she wrote them in a way that allows you to jump in at any point you want).

The Raven Tower. The story is from the viewpoint of a sentient, omniscient rock whose name is Strength and Patience of the Hill and it is the GREATEST THING EVER. The gods are real and must be very careful with their words, because if they speak a lie the reality will alter to make that lie the truth but if the lie is bigger than the power of the god... well. Inspired by Hamlet.

(the book also has a trans man as the main character; the other main character? The sentient rock is the narrator but the largest part of the story focuses on Eolo).

A Natural History of Dragons. The first book from The Memoirs of Lady Trent (and honestly it would probably be more honest to say that every single book from this series fits the category of fave but I'm putting up the first here because this isn't a series where you should skip ahead). The book focuses on the life of Isabella as narrated by her older self. This is the story how a Scirland lady bucked all tradition and became a world renowned expert on the Natural History of Dragons.

(this series has a piece of my heart and always will).

---

(and finally, here's some more of my favorite fantasy books that I also adore and would totally ramble about but I got tired of typing).

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redrosesandcharmingsouls · 2 months

Text

Otto manages in some way to ''delude'' himself into thinking that Alicent would have wanted to marry her best friends's father ,become his queen and have his (male) heirs ,all of it while shes an anxious teenage girl who suffers from dermatillomania .Which is weird because Alicent clearly looks uncomfortable as he asks her to see Viserys .Actually ,the second time we see her asking her if she will see him she looks angry

In this scene Otto also asks her why she's biting her nails in such an obsessive way ,and he outright says that he doesnt understand why she is doing it ,after all why would she do it if she is the most comely lady of the realm?.

Otto doesnt realize that Alicent is anxious not only because she is like that by nature ,but because he's putting her in a difficult position ,not caring about her desires at all .And he thinks ,in a pretty sexist way ,that her being the most comely lady of the realm is a enough reason to make her stop .And what is worse is that when he said that he didnt do it out of malice ,he genuinely thought it that way with no intention of harm.He was probably encouraging her to stop of her own good.

That doesnt mean he is above weaponinzing things against Alicent ,such as her sexuality and her mother's memory .And ,horrific enough ,these two things go hand in hand i the first scene we see them alone

Her sexuality is a weapon for him because Otto can strictly control it and he is the one who will decide who she can share said sexuality with .Her mother's memory is a weapon because Alicent's mother was very dear to her .He straight up tells her to wear one of her mother's dressed ,one that is very bold for that matter.

Otto's also uses her mother's memory again in ep 9 (''you look so much like your mother in certain lights''),as he is desperately trying to get back into her good graces once its clear she is the one in charge between the two.She doesnt give in this time.

A thing about Otto and Alicent's dynamic is that ,not only he genuinely believes that he is doing something good for her ,there is a specific reason on why he completely misunderstands Alicent.

And i think the line ''Our heart are one'' explains it perfectly.

Otto cant see Alicent outside her daughterhood ,he cant understand that she has a mind of her own .Thats why he gets so baffled when she speaks her mind and her plans do not align with his (ep 3 ,ep 4 ,ep 5 ,ep9).And (dont you dare think im blaming her im explaining his pov)Alicent always strives to be dutiful and sacrificial at all costs ,so obviously she obeys her dad (the man who has a lot of power over her in a fantasy medieval setting).And she also loves him and doesnt wanna disappoint him !.And so Otto gets used to the fact that ,even as a 35 adult woman with lots of experiences ,she will always obey him and their plans and ideas will always align .

Alicent is essentially a character who lost her sense of personhood because as a teenager she is put in situations where she is forced to serve and to always take care of others ,who take advantage of her dutiful persona ,and she never actually gets used to the idea that her feelings and desires matter .

And Otto is the first one who takes advantage of that ,he is the one who used her ''a piece to move across the board''.And that shapes her .

Now that doesnt mean he doesnt care for her ,he does love her in his own way.

But people have already explained why he actually loves her .What im trying to say is that Otto's failing to see(not even understand but see) Alicent shapes her and her dynamic ,and ,in the consequence ,the story.

#alicent hightower #hotd #house of the dragon #team green #otto hightower #alicent and otto #otto and alicent #Hotd meta

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— MY LOVE WILL NEVER DIE

SUMMARY : part II of heartbreak feels so good. dean hasn’t seen her in two years, but there she is on Halloween this time, and she fulfils one of his most questionable fantasy.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : charlie bradbury, daphne castillo (aka. sexy elf girl)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), p in v, unprotected sex (jail), slapping, angst, fellatio, dirty talk

WORD COUNT : 5.2k

A/N : from Dean’s POV. I’m such a liar! here’s part two after I said there would only be one part, @smellingofpoetry :] XXXXXXX

“Come on, Dean,” Charlie laughed, taking Dean’s hand to tug him into the unnecessarily big house. Dean planted his feet firmly on the icy grass, stopping his best friend from pulling him inside. “You’ve sulked over… it long enough. Try to find someone else here,” she suggested, letting go of Dean’s warmer hand.

Dean stared at her, her fiery red hair, her somehow soft, blueish eyes, dressed similarly as him in a knight costume. He bit his lip, she knew that he hadn’t seen anyone in the past two years. He was getting grumpier, and grumpier, and as much as she wanted to help him, he didn’t have it in him to find someone else after the mess that was his last breakup. Not after losing the one girl who made him feel like no one else ever did, the one he never saw again after that Christmas night.

Charlie sighed, but grinned dorkily at Dean anyway. “I’m going in… you, come in when you’re ready… if you’re ready.” She moved forward and hugged him tightly, her comforting hug made him smile. Dean held the back of her head and kissed her temple, letting her go so she could go inside.

Dean exhaled loudly, a puff of his warm breath escaping visibly into the cold air. Dean shook his arms and body, trying to hype himself up.

“Come on, Dean,” he murmured, “you’ve been doing this for a long time.” He patted his face, now turning hot and pink when a group of girls wolf-whistled at him as they passed by, giggling to each other when he smirked at them. “See? You’ve still got it,” he told himself when they were far away enough to not hear him. “I know what I’m doing, I know what I’m doing.”

Surely, there’s more than one person who will make him feel the way he felt that night. Someone else who causes explosions when their lips meet. Someone who makes him laugh and makes him feel comfortable about expressing deep inhibitions.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind. The taste of her. The softness of her skin beneath his hands. Her lips against his. The scent of her skin and her hair. Her words, her voice, and her eyes. The feeling of being inside her, hot, soaked all around him, squeezing as she came.

It was the best sex he had. In a closet, of all places. In the darkness. God, that woman. She’s haunted every one of his dreams and every fantasy.

He didn’t dare call her, though, after she gave him her number. He felt bad about it all. He knew women like her, women that didn’t like to be put in situations like those. He didn’t want to put all that on her, even if his intentions were pure… It’s his biggest regret.

Why couldn’t he have met her some other time? Any other day after his breakup? Any other place besides that stupid party?

There’s no point in staying in a cage when the door is wide open for him to escape. He’s been in there waiting for her for long enough… not that she actually made any promises to him. Before he went crazy, he had to fly out, and stop making himself miserable.

Dean stepped inside the house with Halloween music playing loudly. He could feel it in his stomach, the bass, making his nerves even worse. No alcohol tonight, he’d only feel sick. Besides, he needed to be sober for this to work properly.

He walked around the antique-like rooms, looking for a girl that reignited that spark in his dimming heart. He talked to a few women, got their names, asked about what they did, what they liked.

No spark.

No flutter.

Not even a little ember.

Dean groaned loudly when he got to the kitchen, burying his face in his hands, the heel of his palms digging into his eyes. When Dean sighed heavily, fingers sliding down his face, some guy dressed as Jack Sparrow shoved a bottle of scotch into his hand.

“I feel ya, man,” he told Dean sympathetically, patting his shoulder as he pushed past people making out, and humping each other against the kitchen’s counters—shamelessly.

Things were not going well for him. But they clearly were for Charlie.

He could hear her distinctly shy laugh nearby. He poured himself some scotch in a glass and drank some of it. He looked around for her, clicking his tongue against his teeth at the burn of alcohol streaming down his throat.

“Dean!” Charlie shouted, causing him to turn around. She dragged a woman dressed as an angel with her. “No gold?” She asked breathlessly, her cheeks bright red like her lips, and her hair a mess.

“Nope,” Dean replied, looking at the angel next to her. A sheer, white lingerie dress fell over her curves, white heart stickers on her nipples, white panties, a garter, and high heels. She wore a white halo on her head, her long hair placed in a high ponytail, her skin tan and her lips just as swollen as Charlie’s.

“Hi,” she breathed out, watching him drink the rest of the content in the glass he stole from the cupboards.

“This is Namora,” Charlie informed Dean to break the silence. Dean nodded at Charlie and smiled at her… friend.

“Dean,” he told Namora casually, who was about to say something else. “I’m… I need to use the restroom,” he told Charlie, placing his cup in her hand. Her smile fell slightly and she let go of Namora when Dean turned around so he could find somewhere to catch his breath.

Charlie tugged Dean’s shirt, making him stop halfway. He turned to face her, a reassuring smile on both their faces. “Try to have fun anyway, yeah?” She let go of him and Dean nodded, chewing on his lip. She watched him closely, but Namora came up behind her and wrapped her arms around Charlie’s waist, allowing Dean to escape.

Dean found himself walking up the stairs, avoiding couples and girls that hit on him. Groping, tugging him into them, trying and failing to cast spells of desire. He declined bashfully and continued into the hallway, peeking inside rooms for an empty one to rest in.

People were having sex, of course, in the first few, but he found one where there was one girl taking pictures of herself. She puckered her lips and pushed out her chest, her hand resting on her ribcage beneath her breast.

He was going to shut the door, but he opened it again. Her familiarity made him do a double-take. He stared at her, trying to place a name or a situation to her face. She lowered the phone, turning to face him with a judgemental expression. Look away, was written over the sassy shake of her head.

It was sexy-elf-girl, but dressed as a sexy Wednesday Addams.

“Hey,” Dean called out, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

She sighed, checking him out after she set her phone down on the bed. She seemed to be reconsidering the attitude she’d given him the closer he got to the light of the lamp.

“Yes, we can have sex,” she said bluntly.

Dean’s brows furrowed, and then he laughed shyly, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he declined, but she took it like a champ, and raised a brow at him. “You’re friend, Y/n, is she here? I’m Dean.” Realisation made her smile fade and her eyes became wide. She looked to the side, there was a closed door where the bathroom was—presumably, and Dean instantly knew she was in there.

His heart jumped at the thought of seeing her again and his breath got caught in his throat. He hoped he was right.

“Oh,” she said, awkward and short. “Uh,” she hesitated, looking back at Dean who was staring at the door, too. She realised her mistake and cleared her throat so Dean would look at her.

She didn’t have to say anything for Dean to understand the thoughts running through her head. She was a good friend, Dean gave her that. He sighed and smiled at her halfheartedly.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I’ll leave.” Dean turned away from her with the remains of his dignity.

“Wait!” She called out quietly, groaning out with irritation. He heard the bed squeak, and he looked back at her, and the conflict written over her face as she walked towards him. “it’s embarrassing how… much she’s not into anyone, but you…” She confessed breathily, as if she understood why her friend was so into him. It made him smile, a heated blush blossoming on his face, and his stomach clenched at her words. “Call her,” she advised.

Dean stared at her to confirm her words and pulled his phone out. She watched him while he tore his gaze from hers, scrolling to where her abandoned, unused contact was. He looked at her through his lashes and she nodded encouragingly. He pressed the call button, and watched it ring a few times. He heard her phone vibrating inside the bathroom, then loud fluttering, and then she opened the door.

“Daphne, I-” her voice was panicked, but she stopped when she saw Dean, her mouth shutting instantly.

There she was, wearing that same Zoro costume as before. Is it fate, a sign that he’ll get closure? Or is it a sign that the night will end up the same as the last time?

“Okay,” Daphne said awkwardly, and laughed nervously. She walked towards Y/n, fixed her hair, and kissed her cheek while mumbling something against her skin. Daphne quickly made her escape, locking the door before she shut it.

“Dean, I-”

“Hear me out,” Dean interrupted her, angst in his voice, “please.” He stepped closer, just slightly, testing how comfortable she is with him. When she didn’t move away, instead tilting her head up at him, he stepped even closer.

“What?” She whispered, shivering at the static shock of his fingertips running down her arm.

“I… I didn’t call because…” he whispered, staring into her eyes. They were soft, wide as they trailed over his face. Her lips were downturned, her bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout. “Truth is… I thought you were… her. You made me feel things that I hadn’t felt with her, so I almost changed my mind when we were having sex… I kept going, chasing that high, but turned out you were never her, I felt all that for you. I thought I finally found what I spent so long searching for.

“After finding out I didn’t want to die. I thought to myself, what did I even have? I only had my brother. Which… I’m not saying he’s not enough, but… I wanted what I watched others have. I want more. I want… Something just for me,” Dean confessed, staring earnestly into her confused eyes.

She tilted her head at him, but her eyes were empathetic. Dean realised she had no idea what he was talking about. He’d tell her everything in a heartbeat. Maybe in time less than a heartbeat. About the monsters, the life he lives, and the family business. And he’d bring proof, too, lots of proof, so it didn’t end up being a repeat of what went down between him and Cassie.

“I mean… I’ve watched stuff on television, I’ve read books… it’s so fucking sappy, but I wanted all of that. You know? The stuff, like… a house, a normal job, pets, hobbies, just having stupid things, even. And then there-there’s the people… the people I meet when I pretend to be normal. They made me realise that I wanted more… more than one night, more than… more than just sex and the ‘adios’ every morning or after the sex…

“I want more than friendships that never last because… everyone dies. I want to escape this life I live. The cycle I’m trapped in… the maze that threatens to kill me. When I’m free, I know I can have it all. I want to have friendships that aren’t compromised by complicated things going on in my life… the betrayals, the death, the sacrifice, and the other shit… I just… want something real. Something that lasts.

“Like the feelings… the feelings I know I can feel… the emotions all of this can make me feel. If I have it, I know they’ll feel differently. I… I want to experience them differently than before… some of them… some of them I might even be feeling for the first time. I know I can find it, too. I know, I knew someone was out there, just for me. And I thought that was Jeralynne, but then… I met you.” His voice trembled, but he didn’t care, he was putting his heart out there for the first time. And there it was, vulnerability, raw emotions he never felt before, it made his stomach clench.

This was dangerous.

“And then… then you left and-and I knew how this made you feel. And I couldn’t possibly do that to you, I couldn’t make you feel like a bad person. I never heard from you again and these were one of the worst two years of my life. Knowing you were out there. And I really wanted to call. I wanted to be selfish and just… It was… awful for me to do that. I didn’t mean to ghost you, I-I-I was just trying to spare you from feeling guilty or from thinking that you’re with some-some cheater.”

She blinked up at him. He didn’t know what she was thinking. She was quiet and he noticed her jaw tick, and then she looked away from him. She looked thoughtful, at least she looked like she was attempting to absorb his words. Maybe it just confused her. Maybe it was too much.

She turned around and walked away from him. His stomach sank. He watched her with his mouth open in disbelief, hurt. He felt a strange sensation against his fingertips, despair, and an ache in his chest different from the pain he’s felt before.

She stopped at the door with her hand around the doorknob, then she sighed. Her shoulder fell, her hand dropped to her side. Surrender. She turned to face him again with her back pressed against the door.

“I know you’re not a cheater, Dean,” she finally spoke, her voice soft. She pushed herself off the door, and made her way to him, way too slowly for his liking. But when she got to him, she wasted no time in pressing the whole front of her soft body against his, one of her hands slipping into his hair, pulling him down.

So, so close to her lips, he leaned in, but she pulled back. It felt like someone dumped kerosene on his entire body, threw a match on him, lighting him on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing her waist in his hands, keeping her tightly against his body. His lips tingled, longing to feel hers—all soft, red, and a little dry—against his.

“Me too,” she murmured. When she kissed him, he felt like the air had been knocked out of him, like all those times monsters had thrown him through walls. Except, this feeling was a thousand times better.

He’d never been kissed this way. Seriously. Her hands were everywhere, buried in his hair tugging harder and harder until he moaned. And when he opened his mouth to release the sound into her mouth, her tongue found its way to his, tasting and licking until his lungs burned for oxygen.

She pulled away for a few seconds, lips brushing against his, her breath warm against his wet lips. And then she pushed up on her toes and her hands started to wander, slowly moving down his chest, vaguely copping a feel of his body above the thick layers of his knight costume. Trying to find her way past all the tight clothes, the chains, the belt, the leather, and thick cotton.

He did the same, groaning when she bit down hard on his lip before trailing wet kisses down his neck. He squeezed her breasts over the leather of her tiny dress, and kneaded her ass, grinding his growing erection against her stomach. He panted loudly, achingly hard, and slipped his fingers into her hair. He held her against his neck as she nibbled and sucked on his pulse.

His loud moans filled the room and she pulled away once more, shoving him backwards. He stumbled, dazed with lust. He reached for her elbow in confusion, attempting to stabilise himself, but she gave one last push, until he fell back on the bed.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Dean,” she whispered.

Dean lifted himself up on his elbows, staring dumbly as she unlaced the dress at the top. He inhaled sharply and reached down to tug the lace holding the leather of his trousers around his hips.

“Neither could I,” he assured her, ridding himself of the belt around his waist. She moaned softly, pulling the leather dress down her body, revealing her bare breasts, the black lace of her panties, a black garter belt holding her stockings around her thighs.

Dean breathed in sharply, slowly lifting his eyes up her body when she stepped out of the dress and began to walk towards him in those sexy heels of hers. His cock throbbed, twitching under brown leather and nothing else. But instead of touching himself, he succumbed to her dominance, and fisted the sheets at his sides.

“Yeah?” She teased, the bed dipping on each side of his legs while she slowly moved up his body on her knees.

“Yeah,” Dean responded breathily, nodding vehemently. Dean moved up on the bed, staring into her eyes, and then he dropped his head into impossibly soft pillows. She smiled at him, sexy eyes glued to his face as she slid her hands up his sides. “Please, I need you so bad,” he begged, feeling her fingertips brush against the skin above his hips.

She curled her fingers into the waistband and pulled down. Dean lifted his hips, breathing as heavily as she was the lower she pulled them down. Inch by inch of his freckled skin was exposed and her lips followed, biting and sucking possessively at his hip bones, the v-line guiding her to his cock.

His cock bobbed, hitting his stomach and the thick cloth of his tied shirt. He pursed his lips and held back a moan, throwing his head back into the fat pillow as she pulled his boots, and the leather trousers off his legs.

“You said you had a fantasy you wanted fulfilled,” she stated, moving up his body. She put her fingers around the bar of his cock, and he gasped, her warm breath blowing over the wet tip. “What was it?” She asked, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, collecting his warm precum with a satisfied hum.

Dean laughed breathlessly, “no, anything but that.” He lifted himself up to admire her, making his shirt slip down his body, and she pouted. She removed her mouth to spit on his cock, she stroked him slowly, twisting her hand up the hard and hot length of his penis.

“Tell me,” she begged playfully, and then went right back to sucking him off. Her warm, wet mouth smoothly slid up and down his cock, and her hand followed her pretty lips. She hummed softly at the taste of him, teasingly sending delightful vibrations along his dick, and then the head of his cock touched the back of her throat, and she swallowed each time it did. It drove him crazy.

He stared at her lustily, the black mask around her head showing only her eyes, and that black Stetson, the cape thrown over one side of her body. God, she was hot as fuck, but a moan replaced any and all of his dirty words.

She started to go faster, sucking on her way up, tonguing the veins along his cock on the way down. Her hand squeezed tightly the whole time, getting tighter after three sets, and his hips bucked upwards into her skillful mouth. The last straw was when she gently tugged and squeezed his balls.

He wanted to stop her, but the fantasy of her swallowing his load overpowered his will. His stomach clenched and his balls tightened, but she pulled away before he could climax: no hands, no mouth, just the cold air against his wet cock. Dean whined, squirming at the loss of her warm mouth.

“Yup, just as I thought, your dick tastes as good as it looks,” she panted, wiping tears from her eyes beneath the mask and from her red cheeks.

“Please, please,” Dean whispered, sitting up. “Fuck me,” be pleaded, bringing his hand to the back of her neck, gently pulling her forward. She crawled up his body to sit on his thighs, ghosting her lips above his, and his eyes fluttered shut, waiting for her kiss, but he felt her finger instead.

Dean opened his eyes and frowned. A haze of lust prevented him from thinking straight.

“No,” she smirked, those red lips of hers plump and slick.

“I have to tell you first?” He asked quietly, settling his hands on her hips, moving his fingers to toy with the hem of her lace panties. She nodded, nuzzling her nose against his flushed cheek.

She brought her hands to his shirt, pulling at the tan laces that kept his shirt closed in the front, slowly she made her way up, undoing the messy knots, giving him time to gain some confidence and courage to confide in her what he had in mind when he said that to her.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d swoon over the fact that she remembered what he told her.

She pushed him gently onto his back, pulling the shirt open across his chest. She pouted at the white shirt beneath, and teasingly knotted the lace at the neck of his shirt so it wouldn’t choke him, the fake chainmail resting along his throat.

Dean’s stomach fluttered and his heart skipped a few beats when she slid her hand from his stomach, up to his chest. The long-sleeved shirt skirted around her wrist, rising higher and higher, so slowly as she patiently waited for him to focus on her request.

She leaned forward, blew air against his lips with a smile and skipped down to his chest to attach her mouth to his nipple. Dean��s eyes were widened and he gasped, tightening his grip on her hips, her cool finger brushing over his other nipple. Her freehand scratched down his chest, then her soft palm sailed upwards, fingertips dipping into the planes of his muscles.

She brushed her hand against Dean’s cock occasionally, but he had a feeling it was on purpose. It drove him crazy, his dick bobbed, aching for attention while she worked her hands around, and far away from his pulsing erection.

“Fuck!” Dean shouted in irritation, giving up. She looked up at him like he was being way too dramatic and moved her mouth to his other nipple. “Fine, fine. Just please fuck me,” he begged, grabbing her underwear and ripping them off her. The black lace fell apart easily. It’s been a while since he’s done that.

She cursed softly and laughed, reaching down to dispose of her underwear. She planted her hands firmly on his chest, her pussy hovering above his cock. Dean trailed his hands up her sides, taking in the sight of her breasts and then back down, calloused palms moving over the black lace of her garter belt.

“Tell me,” she sang mischievously. She moved one hand off his chest to place it around his wrist, bringing it away from her hip to the warmth between her legs. “I’m ready for you, Dean. You can feel all this wet… on your cock if you tell me,” she purred, gazing into his eyes as he brushed his fingers through her soaked pussy.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. She moaned softly, flattening his palm to grind her pussy against his hand. “Slap me,” he requested, his voice just above a whisper, “that’s what I wanted. Ride my cock and slap me, baby.”

She froze above him. And he felt so embarrassed for saying that, but he couldn’t take it back. She let go of his hand, blinking curiously at him, and he placed both hands on the bed instead of on her body.

A surprised gasp slipped past his lips when she slapped him suddenly—no warning. He only felt the sting against his cheek and his face was turned to the side. Then, she lowered her pussy over his cock, sliding up and down apologetically.

Dean blinked as a blush burned at his face and he looked back at her. She looked at him closely as he rubbed his face with one hand, the other grasped her hip guiding her movements. “That felt real,” Dean chuckled, a soft moan slipping through his throat when she pressed herself down harder against him.

“Softer?” She asked softly, her hips still rolling back and forth so seductively. Dean looked between them shamelessly, his fingers digging into her hips.

“No.”

“Dean, I-”

“Please,” he whined, bucking up into her slick. His stomach fluttered with excitement, impatiently awaiting her reaction.

She nodded after a few moments of quiet thinking and lifted herself up slightly, guiding his cock to her entrance. She sank down on him slowly, and his eyes flickered down between her legs as she took every inch of him, and then back up to her face to capture the pleasure that she felt in having him inside her.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he groaned, reaching down to part her folds and find her already-slick clit with his thumb. She leaned back to give him more access, moaning once she was full with his cock inside her.

“Me too,” she agreed, short of breath. Slowly, she started to lift herself up and down on his length, panting with effort, her pace steadily increasing. Dean could feel her slick dripping down and her walls getting tight around him. “You feel so good,” she praised with a moan.

“You feel even better.” That’s when she looked at him and she hesitated when she saw the look in his eyes, the mischief and his arousal. He felt her walls squeeze him again and then she smacked him across the face on the opposite side.

He grunted and squirmed, his eyes tearing up at the pain, but she laughed breathlessly. It was a nervous laugh not a sadistic one. He pressed his hand to his hot cheek and screwed his eyes shut, swearing under his breath. Why did he like this?

“Your face is too pretty to slap,” she whispered. She took his hand away from his face as she bounced on his cock faster and slipped her fingers between his instead. She bit her lip, and she leaned forward, attempting to keep her eyes open as her cunt pulsed around him.

“You’re so wet… I want to put my mouth all over your beautiful body.” Dean removed his hand from between their bodies to cup her breast before he squeezed the flesh. He silently asked her to lean down by opening his mouth slightly. When she did, his tongue swiped up and down her nipple, she responded with a low moan, and a tight grip of his cock.

“I need you to cum,” Dean pleaded, bending his knees to thrust up into her. She nodded fervently, releasing his hand to plant both of hers on the pillow beneath his head. He could hear the scratch of her nails against the silk and he removed his warm mouth from her breasts and slowly canvassed her body with warm, calloused palms. Kneading, squeezing, digging his blunt nails into her delicate skin.

“That’s right, cum on my cock, sweetheart,” Dean moaned. The bed squeaked with each movement, and the wooden headboard hit the wall loudly, shaking photographs nailed at the top. Dean moaned with her, his cock plunging into her wet cunt filled the room, her skin audibly slapping against his—like an obscene porno.

She came on his cock with a cry of his name, her velvety heat gushing around him, squeezing to the point of insanity. Dean barely gave her time to recover before pulling her down against his chest, and flipping her onto her back.

Her Stetson easily fell off her head, and he tugged the mask away from her eyes, staring finally at her breathtaking face. She gasped softly, her body trembling beneath his as he slammed his hand against the wall. “Fill me up, Dean, I need to feel you inside me,” she whispered, gently holding his jaw in her hands.

Dean kissed her deeply, hips pistoning into her wet, pulsing cunt. He lifted her leg, bending her knee, opening her up by holding her thigh to the side. She held her other thigh in a similar position, a loud cry filling the room when he pushed deeper, his cock head pressing into her cervix as his hips stuttered, and finally, he came inside her with a shout of her name.

A second orgasm rolled through her, whimpering out his name like a praise against his sinful mouth. Shaking from her orgasm, her face twisted in pleasure, Dean pulled away from her sweet lips, wishing he could always remember her face.

Dean collapsed on top of her, releasing her leg to roll her back on top of him once more, his lips moving all over her face. She laughed, short of breath, her pussy leaking the mixture of their release around him. Dean gripped her hips tightly to keep himself inside her, her stockings brushing against his skin feeling like electricity.

“That was a pretty bad idea, Dean,” she murmured, lifting her lips to his. “Slapping was,” she cleared up, licking across his teeth before he spoke.

“I agree,” he chuckled hoarsely, kissing her passionately. She pulled away from his mouth for a breather, lifted herself off him with a moan, her cunt clenching around nothing as more cum dripped out of her.

“I’m gonna be so sore,” she whined, laying on her back beside him. Dean smiled and turned over on his side to gaze at her.

She was flushed and enchanting, her eyes sparkling brightly when she looked back at him. Dean played with the little clips from her garter belt, his fingers sailing slowly up her stomach, over her hardened nipple. She shivered and took his hand, placing it flat over her breast.

“Get used to it,” Dean murmured, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder, “I’ll never get tired of your body.” She smiled brightly at him, turning to face him the same way he was laying on his side.

“I’ll never tire of your body,” she promised softly, scooting closer to him. “I’ll always love… every… glorious… inch of you,” she said emphatically, kissing his lips as she did.

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader

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breekento · 2 months

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Have you ever gone into possible hobbies that Nanami has vs Higuruma? I'm disappointed we never got to see his likes and hobbies 😭😭😭

Welcome back to another HiguNana analysis by Bree!

Unfortunately we don’t ever get to know very much about the personal interests and hobbies of Higuruma and Nanami throughout the show. They already have very little screen time and what we do see is usually pertaining only to the world of sorcery. But something that Higuruma and Nanami nation have decided is that both of these hunky men are wealthy and wealthy men have hobbies.

Like usual, these are my personal head-cannons please don’t be mad at me.

Hobbies that HiguNana have in common:

They are men of style and class, both wearing luxury suits and splurging on nice cars and watches. They adore shopping with you. They’ve worked hard in their careers to be able to afford their lifestyle and they both have the love language of gift giving. Those two things combined equals shopping trips for the two of you. They love dressing you up, watching you spin around for them. They can put their money where their mouth is. When you can’t decide which dress to buy for their work party, they say, “Just get both, darling. You can use one for a date night and one for the party.”

In a similar vein, they love traveling. And they love bringing you along. Even if it’s just a weekend getaway somewhere you’ve never been, they will book a last-minute trip and pack your bags for you. They already know your essentials and favorite outfits so you can expect your bag to be packed as soon as you get home.

Nanami’s hobbies:

Starting off with the most obvious, something we do know about Nanami is his love for reading. Before his death, he mentioned all of the books he never got around to reading. I like to think he has a home library and a wide range of taste in books from historical non-fiction to fiction fantasy books. In the mornings, he brews a cup of black coffee and sits outside, reading whatever current novel he is on before getting dressed and ready for work.

Something that we don’t have any clues for but is something that I can see fitting his character very well is a love for baking and cooking. He seems like the type of man to insist on cooking for holidays like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. His love for pastries only signifies that he at some point has dabble in baking. Plus, he would look just adorable in an apron.

Maybe this is just me self-inserting myself but as an avid plant mother Nanami has the type of personality to be a loving plant father. He’s patient and gentle and would take the utmost care of a garden or home jungle. He could use his own fresh vegetables in his cooking!

Now, this might tie in to the shopping hobby but we all know Nanami is a man of funky ties. I could see him collecting fun ties. Shopping for other items and coming across a new pattern he has never seen before, he can’t help himself. He has a drawer only for his ties and picks them out for every occasion.

Nanami is a white collar man and who do all white collar man love? Golf. Nanami is a man of golf. It only makes sense that he would have a section of his closet dedicated to his golf attire. Many times, business deals and business meetings are done over a game of golf.

Higuruma’s hobbies:

Higuruma was much more difficult to identify some hobbies but after some deliberation, I think I’ve found a handful that I would coin. Maybe I will even write them into future Higuruma fanfics.

The first one would be poker. You can’t tell me you can’t imagine Higuruma, cigarette in mouth and whiskey on the table playing poker with a group of other lawyers in his firm. After a long and stressful day of being professional, they undo their ties and relax over a game of poker. They have enough money to make the stakes higher by adding bets and money on the line.

To me, Higuruma strikes me as a music type of guy. More specifically, old music. He has a collection of vinyls that he will pull out and show guests and more importantly, you. Weekend mornings, he heads down to the local record store and thumbs through the new albums they have in stock. He has a well up-kept vintage record player, only the finest machine to play his collection.

I honestly can’t remember if it was ever made evident in the manga that Higuruma smoked or if we all just collectively gave him that head cannon but Higuruma is a smoker. Not only a smoker but he collects cigars. Rarely does he smoke his fine cigars, only pulling them out for special occasions such as weddings or other important events.

Similarly, Higuruma is a bar hopper. Not in the same sense as a twenty-something college kid but as an established lawyer with a wealth behind him. He finds new and fun bars with good live music to sit and have a few drinks at. His favorite thing is bringing you along. He gets to hear about your day, listen to the smooth local band behind you and have a nice drink. It’s an excuse to see you dressed up in your shopping spree outfit.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk nanami #nanami kento #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #hiromi jjk #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami fanfic #higuruma x you #jujutsu kaisen higuruma

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ravencoloredroses · 10 months

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I Choose You

Nyx x Reader (Eris’ daughter)

Summary: Nyx and Eris’ daughter have always felt an attraction towards each other, even if they can never actually be together.

Word Count: 4,086

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I made this to fill my forbidden fantasies between Nyx and Eris’ daughter, but if you want more from these characters, check out All That Matters! It gives a different story line for these two! Thanks for reading and as always, let me know what you think!!

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I suck in a breath as the strings on the back of my corset are pulled taut. Why I still have to wear corsets is beyond me, but I’ve learned to do what I’m told.

My father is High Lord of the Autumn Court. Which means as his daughter, there are specific rules I must follow and certain events I must attend.

Tonight we are attending an event at the Night Court, something about falling stars. The Night Court is where he is from. We’ve been in the same circles our entire lives, attending the same events and meetings. He’s absolutely perfect in every way, except he is the heir to the Night Court. A.K.A. my mortal enemy.

That’s a cringy way to put it but that’s exactly what it is. Our fathers only recently have started to get along with each other. I’ve heard stories of what my father did to the other High Lord's cousin Mor, but I’d rather not think about that right now. My father has shown me and my brother nothing but love my whole life, and I refuse to believe otherwise.

I hear my father’s signature knock on my door and I go over to open it.

“You look lovely darling.” He says pulling me in for a hug, careful not to mess up my hair. “Are you ready to go?”

I pull away and go to look in the mirror. My bright red hair is perfectly curled and is surprisingly soft for how much hairspray is in it. It’s in perfect contrast to my dark forest green dress. It has long sleeves and a modest neckline but still shows off the curves of my chest before it flares out around my waist. I’ve gone with a light makeup look today, letting my freckles shine through. My father meets my gaze in the mirror.

“I’m ready.” I say, spinning around to face him.

“Perfect.” He replies, grabbing my hand to winnow us away.

We arrive at the front door of a mansion and I see shadows shuffling around in the windows. It looks like there aren't a lot of people here, maybe they are coming later?

Just before my father knocks, the door swings open, revealing the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. They are dressed in full black head to toe, but such a depressing color, it looks amazing on them.

“Welcome to our home! Happy Starfall!” They say, stepping aside to let us in, my father goes first and I trail behind.

The High Lord extends his arm and leads us to what I presume is the living room.

“Everyone is just through there.” He says pointing down a hallway. “Don’t be shy, I’m sure you’ll find some familiar faces.”

As I make my way down, I see him. Gods he looks amazing. Oddly, his suit is the same color as my dress. It was unintentional, but I couldn’t be more thrilled. He’s looking at me with an expression that says he’s excited to see me too.

We’ve never got to be alone with each other, there are always too many people around. After stealing a few glances, one of us gets pulled away. I can’t explain this feeling I have for him. I know we can’t be together. but that only makes me want him more.

“Will your brother be joining us as well?.” Rhys pulls my thoughts away from Nyx.

“No. Unfortunately my brother had other obligations tonight.” I lie. He’s sneaking away with his girlfriend that no one but myself knows about. I can’t help but feel jealous, he always gets everything I want. Our father has a ball and chain that ties me down, I can only go so far before he yanks me back.

That’s why everything about Nyx excites me, he’s got everything I want. He is everything I want.

I’m offered a glass of wine and gladly accept. I’m normally not a big fan of wine, but today I need a little bit of ‘liquid courage’ as they say.

Wandering around this mansion feels wrong, so I make my way towards the balcony. I peer out the window to make sure no one else is there and open the door.

I’m suddenly grateful my dress has long sleeves as I feel the cold air against my skin. I rest my arms on the railing to look out into Velaris. I hate to admit it, but this city is beautiful.

I hear the door behind me quietly open and close. I know who it is without having to turn around.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I ask when he stands next to me.

“It is, yes.” He replies. I look up to find him already looking down at me. I’m not the best at keeping eye contact, but I can’t bring myself to look away. His eyes are a striking blue and it makes my heart skip a beat to know that he’s looking at me. I glance behind me to make sure no one sees us together.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He says, shifting a little closer to me. I turn slightly to face him and he places his hand dangerously close to mine on the railing.

“So have I.” I smile at him. We both look down to our hands as I slowly bring mine overtop of his.

“Do you- do you feel it too?” He asks. I look back to him questioningly.

“Feel what?” He looks shocked at first, but then sadness takes over his expression.

“Never mind.” He looks back to the sky. Feeling a bit bold, I place my hand under his chin and turn his head to look at me.

“Tell me, please. What do you feel?”

He looks down at my lips and back up to my eyes. I find myself doing the same. My boldness must have rubbed off on him because the next thing I know, he is pulling me close.

Then he presses his lips to mine. My shock only lasts half a second and then I’m kissing him back. I wrap my hand around his neck to play with his hair. He moans into the kiss, then his hands travel down my back, stopping at my waist.

I reluctantly pull back after a while for a breath of air and rest my head on his chest. He chuckles lightly, causing me to look up at him. “What?” I giggle back.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “I just can’t believe this is happening.” I pull him back down into a kiss.

“Me neither.” I whisper against his lips.

Moments later, I see a flash of light from the corner of my eye. I must have a confused look on my face because Nyx turns to face us towards the sky. “This is Starfall, my favorite holiday. Some believe they are spirits, traveling to return home. Others just see falling stars and are amazed by their beauty.” He pulls my back to his front, I lean my head back to rest on his shoulder. “What do you believe?”

He looks down and meets my gaze. “I’d like to believe that they are spirits, but I have no proof.” I nod and place a kiss on his chin.

“That sounds beautiful, Nyx. Absolutely beautiful.”

“I’ll have to go back soon, my family will wonder where I am.” He kisses my head and regretfully releases me. “I’ll see you in there.” Then he’s gone.

I stay there looking out at the sky for a couple more minutes. I just had my first kiss and it was with Nyx. I feel like I’m walking on a cloud, until I remember who we are and why we can’t be together. We have to figure something out. I need to be with him. Even if both of our families disown us. I can’t stay away any more.

Soon after returning to my father’s side he announces that we will be leaving. I look around for Nyx, but can’t find him. I mask my disappointment, say goodbye to everyone and thank Feyre and Rhys for inviting us over.

“The next ones at our place.” My dad says with a wink at Rhys and winnows us back home.

———

Two Months Later

Nyx’s POV

I give myself one look in the mirror and head downstairs to meet up with my family. As I come down the stairs, Uncle Cassian whistles at me. “Daaaamn, Nyxie Wyxie, who are you trying to impress?”

I laugh it off nonchalantly and move over to my parents.

“You look so handsome, Nyx. Don’t listen to Cassian, he’s just trying to rile you up.” My mother says. I give her a smile and sit down as we wait for everyone to get here.

It’s been over 2 months since I’ve last seen her and I couldn’t be more excited. I had hoped during Starfall that she felt the mating bond, but it doesn’t seem like she did. Even after we kissed, and my gods it was amazing. I don’t know if that was her first kiss, but it was mine and I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face for 2 weeks. All I’ve been able to think about is her.

So yeah, Cassian, maybe I am trying to impress someone. She has no idea that she’s my mate and even if she did, her father would never let us be together.

I’ve known that she is my mate for almost 2 years, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I have a plan for tonight though, I just need everything to be perfect.

“Okay so here’s the plan.” My dad says, drawing my attention. “It’s a ball, so there will be lots of people dancing around. It will be easy to lose sight of each other, but under no circumstances should we let that happen. Understand?” He says sternly. We all reply with either a yes or a nod. “Great! Now let’s go.” He grabs onto my mothers hand and she grabs mine, winnowing us out.

Loud music fills my ears as people push past me to get to the ballroom, my family and I follow. Over the years coming to these events, I’ve been one of a handful of kids my age. Y/N included. She’s always been the first thing I look for when I get inside. Now as I look around, it takes me no time to find her.

She’s looking around the room as well and finally her eyes land on me. Gods she’s beautiful. Everything about her is stunning. She gives me a big smile and eyes the door to her left. I’m not good at hints, but that one’s pretty obvious, so I gave her a smile back and nod. She walks towards the door and I get a full view of her dress. Dark green, her signature color, with gold lace trims. Her auburn hair is in an intricate braid that’s resting on her right shoulder.

Once she’s inside the door, I count to 60. A full minute might be too much time to make her wait, but I need to be sure my family doesn’t see us together. When I get to 56, I start walking towards the door. I look around to find my parents chatting with other High Lords, Cassian and Nesta dancing together and Azriel standing with his back facing me. Perfect. I pick up my pace and open the door she went through.

It opens into what I assume is a storage room. As I close the door I feel tiny hands wrap around my waist.

“Hey handsome.” She whispers. I spin around in her grasp and put my hands around her waist.

“Hi beautiful.” I pull her close and lift her up to place a kiss on her lips. She moves to wrap her arms around my neck and plays with the back of my hair. I melt when she does this, I love it so much. I can’t control the moan that comes out as she arches her body into mine.

I move to kiss behind her ear, and now it’s her turn to moan. I would give anything to keep that sound on repeat in my head. She continues playing with my hair as I kiss my way down her neck. “Nyx.” She says in my ear in a serious tone, that causes me to stop and look at her face. Scared that I did something wrong, I take a step back. She grabs my hands and has a panicked expression on her face.

“Please don’t leave. I don’t want you to go.” She says. I release a breath and cup her face with my hands.

“Then I won’t.” I promise as I rub my thumbs along her freckle filled cheeks and kiss her again.

She places her head on my chest and I move my hand to cradle the back of her head. “I mean like, ever.” She says and looks up at me. “I don’t ever want to be away from you again.” She starts to cry, I quickly wipe away her tears and pull her closer to me.

I know I need to respond, but I can’t think of what to say. I don’t want to be away from her again either. These past 2 months have been nothing but agony. I want nothing more than to run away with her right now and never return. But we both know we can’t do that. Not yet, anyway. I lift her chin up with my finger and press a quick kiss to her nose which causes her to giggle, just like I wanted.

“I can’t promise you a future, no matter how much I wish I could. What I can promise is the present, and right now I don’t want to do anything but be here with you.” I whisper and she pulls me down into another kiss.

This one is more intense than our previous ones, more needy. I push her up against the wall and lift her into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist and bites my bottom lip while her fingers begin unbuttoning my shirt.

She gets to the third when the door behind us slams open. I gently drop her to the ground and turn around so she can hide behind me.

“NYX!” I hear my father yell.

“Y/N!” Eris yells from behind him.

My father comes over to me to pull me away from Y/N. Eris rushes over to her and grabs onto her arm. She looks at me scared and it kills me that there’s nothing I can do about it. “Please dad, just let me explain.” She pleads to her father.

“You can explain at the house.” He snarls and winnows her away.

“Noooo!” I fight out of my fathers grasp to try and reach her before they are gone, but it’s too late. I fall to the ground where she was and put my head in my hands.

“Get up Nyx. This is ridiculous.” My father says. I whip my head around and give him the death glare he deserves. “She means nothing to you. She’s the daughter of Autumn, son, she is destined to be your enemy.”

My mom joins me on the floor and rubs my back. “Nyx it will be okay, you’ll find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else! I want her!” I snap back.

“As long as I’m alive that is never going to happen.” My father hisses. I stand up and move to be face to face with him.

“SHE’S MY MATE!! Did you know that? No, of course you didn’t. She doesn’t even know yet and still she wants to be with me. Do you remember what it was like before mom knew? That’s how I feel right now. It would be nice to have my father be there for me. Why do you think I never told you?” I scream out, he gives me a shocked expression. I bolt past the rest of my family before anyone has a chance to stop me.

Y/N’s POV

I’m still sobbing as I lay on my bed 30 minutes later. When we winnowed home I ran upstairs ignoring anything my father had to say. His knock on my door now is quiet, almost fearful. Good. This conversation isn’t going to be easy for either of us.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” He asks from behind the door. I don’t respond, hoping he will take the hint and leave me alone. Instead, he pushes my door open and sits beside me on my bed. He breathes a heavy sigh.

“I wanted to apologize.” He starts and I jolt upright. I was NOT expecting that.

“W-what?” I ask, not believing my ears.

He nods. “I wanted to apologize to you. I spoke with Rhysand a couple minutes ago and he told me that you two are mates and I……..” He keeps talking, but nothing he says is registering in my brain.

“M-mates? Nyx and I are mates?” I ask.

“Yeah- oh you didn’t- you didn’t know that?” He asks. I shake my head, still struggling to understand what is happening. He pulls me into a hug and rocks me back and forth.

“Oh I’m so sorry sweetheart. I- I thought you knew.”

“Wait. Does Nyx know?” I sit up and look at him, he nods. I’m thinking over our past interactions trying to put the pieces together. That’s what the pinching was. Was that what he was asking if I felt? Why didn’t he just tell me?

“I really am sorry. It’s just that Nyx is the heir of the Night Court and you are my only daughter. I didn’t want to see you together, but since you are mates we will make it work. I promise.” He says.

“Can I go see him?” I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand.

“Of course you can.” He gives me a smile and winnows me to the Night Court.

I wanted to make myself look presentable after all the crying I just did, but I’m running up to Nyx’s room as soon as we get there. I don’t know how I know which room is his, I just feel it. I stop abruptly outside of his door and I’m about to knock when it swings open.

Standing in front of me is the most stunning male I’ve ever seen. He looks like he’s been crying as much as I have. It breaks my heart to see him like that and based on the look he gives me, he feels the same.

I jump up into his arms and he walks us backwards into his room. He kicks the door closed behind us and walks over to his bed. Nyx gently sets me down on his mattress and kneels before me. I place my hands on either side of his face as he rests his hands over mine.

“We’re mates.” I sob out. He looks scared of what I’m about to say, so I give him a smile to try and ease his nerves. He gives me a shy nod.

“Is that okay with you?”

“It’s perfect.”

He releases a sigh and pulls me into his arms. “We need to talk about some things.” He says.

“I know.” I pull back to look at his beautiful face. “I choose you, Nyx. I will always choose you. I don’t care what our parents think. Even if we live in a shack in the middle of nowhere. I just want to be with you.”

He wipes away my tears and looks at me happily. “Are you sure? Because I could definitely find us a shack in the middle of nowhere.” He jokes while peppering my cheeks with kisses. He rubs away his tears with the back of his hand and gives a soft chuckle.

“What?” I ask, giggling at him.

“Nothing, I just am so fucking happy right now. I don’t really know what to do with myself.” He laughs, but his face changes to show that he’s nervous. “Could you stay tonight?”

“Do you have something I could borrow?” I ask, gesturing down to my very uncomfortable dress. He fumbles around in his closet before returning with an oversized t-shirt and some boxer shorts. Nyx hands them to me and shows me where his bathroom is, leaving me to change.

His shirt fits me like a dress, it comes down so far you can even tell that I’m wearing shorts. I step back into his bedroom and find that he’s already laying down in bed. He pats the space next to him and I giggle as I jump under the covers.

He pulls my back to his front and wraps his arm around my waist. He places a kiss on my shoulder and says “I choose you too. I will always choose you.”

I smile and snuggle closer. “I know.”

I struggle to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of this moment, but I can already tell that this is going to be the best sleep I’ve ever had.

2 YEARS LATER

I stand up from my vanity and head over to my closet to get dressed. Today is Nyx and I’s anniversary and he’s taking me on a date, but he won't tell me where we are going. The only thing he has told me is what to wear. I pick up the beautifully wrapped box and undo the bow to reveal the most stunning dark green dress.

I turn towards the mirror to see myself. Not only do I look beautiful, I feel beautiful. That feeling isn’t a familiar one, but it’s beginning to grow on me. I’m so distracted looking at myself that I don’t notice my mate walking up behind me.

He wraps his large hands around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. “You look gorgeous, darling. Are you ready to go?” He asks and spins me around.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, so let's go before I ruin this new dress you bought me.” I tease and give him a kiss. He chuckles and winnows us away.

We arrive in an empty ballroom and I look over at him questioningly. “I figured we should have another chance at attending a ball together.” He says shyly, taking my hand to lead me towards the dance floor. Suddenly, classical music begins to play and Nyx places a kiss on my knuckles.

“May I have this dance, My Lady?” He asks with a smirk.

“I’d be honored to dance with you, My Lord.” I reply and he pulls me close. My hand finds room on his shoulder as his find my waist. We slowly sway back and forth for a couple of songs before Nyx pulls back.

“Y/N, on this night 2 years ago I promised you something, and I told you that there was another thing that I couldn’t promise you. I’d like to change that tonight.” He begins and I already feel tears building in my eyes.

“Back then I said I couldn’t promise you a future, but that I could promise you the present.” He swallows and moves onto one knee before me, “Y/N Vanserra, I would be honored if you would allow me to promise you a future, our future.” He pulls out a small box from his jacket pocket.

“Will you marry me?”

I throw myself into his arms. “Yes!”

He picks me up and kisses me while we spin around. He grabs onto my left hand and slides the most beautiful ring onto my fourth finger. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, then wipes away my tears with his thumb. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too.” I rest my face on his chest as we dance away the night. Our lives may not be perfect, but we chose how to live our lives. We chose each other.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #cassian #feyre #mor #nesta #rhys #nyx #nyx x reader #eris vanserra #nyx archeron #vanserra reader #rhysand #sarah j maas #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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factorialsotherfandoms · 3 months

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And done! Mostly archivists, some Roier, Fit, and the rest of deathfam at the end. TW: aftermath of torture, major character injuries, fantasy sickness, ooc warning for probs everyone but the situation is fucked so who knows. It's 6638 words please just take it as it is and love it or at least the idea for me <3

The doorbell rings, and it pulls Cellbit from his sleep. He’s curled on the floor of the fear room, having never quite made it to bed last night. With a bit of effort he pulls himself to his feet, cursing out whomever decided to wake him at this hour.

If it isn’t important, he’s starting another murder spree.

“Coming!” he calls, unsure if it will reach, as he takes the elevator up and then stalks down the hallways.

He gets to the doorway, and rips it open. With a sigh he prepares to berate them, only to freeze as he opens the door.

It’s Philza.

Philza. Who has been missing for a little over two months.

Philza, dressed in rags and smelling of blood.

“Philza?” He asks, looking over him, looking for his wounds. “We missed you; where've you been?”

And it doesn't matter that Cellbit had been asleep, because Philza is somehow alive and somehow back, even after so long. He can’t be angry, not seeing him wide eyed and like this.

He doesn't get a reply, just a shake of Philza's head. He sways in place, stumbling into the wall. Cellbit reaches out, taking his arm and trying to support him.

Philza looks at him, and there's a purple taint to his eyes.

Some sort of void sickness?

What the fuck.

Cellbit wants to ask, wants to scream and to shout, but there are clearly much more pressing problems here. Instead he takes a deep breath, and tries to position himself to take more of Philza's weight.

Cellbit is a wet tissue of a man, strength wise but he could swear Philza was never this light before.

Philza, who flinches at the touch, then all but collapses against Cellbit's side.

“Do you have a warpstone?” Cellbit asks, already thinking through if he has the supplies to make a spare. “We should probably get you to the infirmary…”

The weight on Cellbit's side is suddenly gone. A trail of bloody footprints stain the stonework as Philza stumbles backwards, rapidly shaking his head. All until he's pressed against the wall and the… then he just shakes.

And, fuck, Philza is usually a sensible one. But it's been months, and he's wounded, and Cellbit can see the signs of torture and knows the obvious culprits but…

“Okay,” he thinks, and thinks again. “Okay. My drawing room then. I have the first aid kit Mike made for Richas somewhere.”

Philza calms, and hesitantly nods, and goes as if to stand before leaning back against the wall, and offering out hands instead.

Why isn't he speaking? Void-sickness, possibly, but if so Cellbit would expect the taint to be visible on his lips or throat. Roier would probably say something about trauma, but Roier isn't here right now - he's taken Richas and Pepito for a sleepover at Foolish's dragon and, hell, at least the children aren't here to see the blood on the floor.

He'll have to clean before they get home.

Still, Cellbit takes Philza's arm, helping him drape his weight across Cellbit. He drags more than carries him, and most of their movement is kept going only by Cellbit.

Beneath his hands, Cellbit can feel things - too thin, but then the Federation has probably starved him (why is he void-sick, if the Federation took him? That doesn't add up but who else would it be?). There's dried blood beneath his fingers, and some tacky like the scabs have not quite been able to set. There are ridges, too, new scars born across his skin. Philza’s own fingers are weak against Cellbit’s arm, hurting and blistered and the skin scraped like he had been scrabbling in gravel.

Torture. Cellbit knows what torture is.

He wonders if Philza remembers any of it, or if he is like him.

Either way, Cellbit is going to find Cucurucho, and rip his spine through his neck.

With a trail of bloody footprints they make it to the drawing room. Cellbit helps Philza sit, making sure he is steady before letting go. There's a water jug left on the table, so he gets Philza a glass, and hands it to him.

Cellbit doesn’t ask ‘where the fuck have you been’ like he wants to, nor does he comment on the man’s state, instead he says “wait there. I’ll get some potions” before turning and sprinting back up the stairs.

Potions, bandages, stuff for stitches, water and soup - he grabs two buckets of water and a bottle or three of antiseptic, too, just to be sure. Did the Federation have him? It’s the only answer Cellbit can think of - from just a brief look Cellbit could see he was covered in wounds, friction burns on his ankles and wrists while his feet bled, and he looks half-starved. He’s pale, too, too pale, and he isn’t sure whether to hope it’s blood loss or lack of sunlight as both options suck.

He messages Roier, just in case - Missa he’ll worry about later, once he knows what is going on. No need to worry Philza’s loved ones in the middle of the night, and certainly not when they’re surrounded by people.

HIs knife goes in his belt - there’s no room for mistakes.

And then it’s sprinting back to his front room, only to find Philza is… gone?

He would call it a hallucination, if not for the bloody footprints still all over his carpet, and the still-full glass of water beside the sofa.

“Philza?” he calls, swallowing the crack in his voice.

Did the Feds steal him back from his own damned house?!

There’s a shuffling nearby. Cellbit turns, looks up, sees Philza perched on his toes, bloodying the top of his bookshelf.

“Sit back down and let me see where you’re hurt,” Cellbit points to the chair.

Philza looks about and around, curling tighter into himself. He stares at the window.

Jumps down.

Bolts towards it.

Crashes into the glass.

There’s a very definite noise of main, but it’s muffled and something about it is /wrong/.

Cellbit grabs his shoulder, steadying him, leading him back to the sofa. His own hands are shaking, and Philza keeps glancing back to the window.

What about the window is wrong…?

As soon as he sits down, Cellbit goes to examine it. He cannot see anything odd, but pulls tight the curtains just in case.

“Better?” Cellbit asks.

He does not get a response, so he just hopes that he is.

The next question is… What first… Philza’s body is an itinerary of injuries - his face and his wings suspiciously intact but for the exhaustion and the void-sickness in his eyes, the stain also dappled across his nails and small patches of skin - but Cellbit knows what he wants first.

Everything is bad, but it is Philza’s feet that are bleeding.

So he grabs everything and kneels before the sofa. Carefully, watching Philza as closely as he is watched in return, he takes one of his feet. Cellbit has to pick the remains of utterly ruined shoes away, just tiny scraps of the fabric which once made up the uppers and soles. Beneath that are the wounds, and around it the blood.

Some of it is stones, and mud, and sticks, and dirt.

Some of it is blisters, a mark of how long Philza must have been walking.

Some of it looks suspiciously like very, very deliberate slash marks - all across the soles of his feet, and across the backs of his ankles. They’re deep, and surrounded by cross-hatched scars of equally thin slashes, like the wounds have been applied again and again and again.

If Cellbit were to cut someone’s feet like that, it would be to stop them from running. With how deep the slashes are… He doesn’t think that Philza was ever supposed to walk again.

“Fuck,” he feels himself swear and this… this doesn’t look like the Federation at all.

The friction burns around his wrists and ankles, looking like chains, sure, but the slicing…? They’d trust their bars, and they’d torture with something bigger, and if you are genuinely a flight risk they lock you away. Not… Not this.

It’s just as cruel, but not really in their style.

So he’s killing Cucurucho and someone else, then. Just got to work out who, because he cannot think of anything else on the Island which would trap someone in the void.

Still he slowly works on picking out the debris, doing his best to clean the wounds with a cloth dipped in clean water and antiseptic poured on it as he goes. The wounds are so extensive, though, and dirty, that…

Well, Cellbit isn’t a doctor; he pours the entire other bottle of antiseptic into one of the water buckets. Once he’s done all he can with his fingers and the cloth, he shoves Philza’s foot into the bucket.

Philza makes a strange noise; Cellbit checks, but he is gestured at to continue, so… So he repeats the actions.

The second foot is, somehow, worse; the cuts are shallower, but there’s barely skin between them.

Cellbit is out of his depth, he’s so far out of his depth, but they need treating now, and Roier has yet to answer the message - he’s probably, like everyone else, already asleep.

He picks out the gravel, and places this foot more carefully into the antiseptic bucket, and prays it’s enough to avoid an infection.

From there he moves to where he felt blood before, tracking the wounds. These ones are smaller, simpler, much more like their usual issues. Cellbit knows how to clean up a cut and bandage an awkward shoulder wound - he’s done it before. He can bandage to give pressure to a sprained wrist, and he’s certainly had his fair share of blistered fingers in his life.

The quantity is wrong, all wrong, but actually tending the wounds is something anyone of the island could have done.

And then… And then he must get carried away, too busy charting them, too busy tracking the black-ish stains on Philza’s stress and trying to calculate how bad the void-sickness is, too occupied to be taking proper care.

Because he does not mean to scrape a blister on his palm, tearing it open and letting the fluid leak out.

But he does.

Philza screams, but it does not come fully out. Neither do his lips open, the sound trapped in his throat and his nose, and Cellbit…

Cellbit has a horrible realisation.

“Philza,” he asks. “Philza, can you open your mouth for me?”

Philza shakes his head.

Wait, English is ambiguous, maybe… Maybe he’s not…

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

One shaking finger is raised.

And Cellbit slowly nods.

He’s known things like this before, he’s seen it before - he’s done it to people before - but think of it being done to someone who has only ever trusted him, only ever tried to help or be his friend…

“Can I touch your lips?” he asks.

Philza doesn’t react at all. He stares at Cellbit and barely even breathes.

Still Cellbit approaches, hesitant hands reaching out. He cannot see anything, not like this, so…

So if he’s right…

It’s not glue.

He’d be able to feel it if it were glue.

Slowly, carefully, he pushes a finger between Philza’s lips

and there, at the back, he finds the stitches. Thin but strong, pulled extremely tight and narrowly sewn. There’s not even space for a straw, and Cellbit knows how to fix this but he’s not sure he /can/.

He doesn’t even know who he needs to dissect.

“I…” he stares at it, leans closer to look, examines the thread - it was white, once, but it’s brown with dried blood and spit. They’re set so far back that they’re sewn more into Philza’s gums than the skin of his lips.

Cellbit pulls his hands away, “I don’t think I can help without hurting you.”

Philza tilts his head to the side, and gestures with bandaged hands.

He seems… resigned. Like he expected this.

Scared, too, glancing now at the door.

Who can Cellbit ask for help? Philza would probably want Missa, or maybe Fit or Etoiles or… Someone else early. But Fit is helping Missa protect Chayanne and Tallulah, and Etoiles is knee deep in /something/, which…

Roier might know. Pac and Mike are scientists, they could. Foolish has all sorts of strange skills, as does Bad.

He could just put a message in the general chat, but he really, really doesn’t want to do that…

And, there is also the problem that everyone is asleep.

“I’m going to get you some pyjamas,” Cellbit decides on, rather than making a decision before he’s worked out the right answer. “Will you be alright?”

Philza nods, his eyes already drifting to the door.

Cellbit hates it, hates how wrong this all is; Philza should not be curled on his sofa, clutching at himself, injured and shaking in fear. But, he is, and there is very little that Cellbit can do about it.

Something to wear is a start though - he heads back to his room, leaving Cellbit behind. Nobody on the island has a lot of spare clothes, but he manages to find a clean and relatively soft nightshirt at the bottom of a chest. He shakes out the worst of the creases, deems it serviceable enough, and heads back.

Philza is gone.

Again.

This time Cellbit checks for the footsteps - wet and still slightly tinged pink. Cursing the man and everything else he runs after, hoping he didn’t get too far.

He finds him very close to the bridge’s warp plate. Cellbit grabs his arm and, this time, Philza fights back.

It’s not a long fight, only seconds before Philza is limp in his grip and doing his best to snarl despite his sewn together lips.

The stitches don’t tear, but his skin does.

“Stop that!” Cellbit tries. “You’re making it worse.”

Philza /freezes/ when Cellbit yells, and his heart drops somehow further into his feet.

“Just… Come back inside? Please?”

Cellbit is so fucking tired.

Philza… Shakes his head.

“Philza.”

He pulls away his arm, and tries to run.

It’s not…

“Why are you running?”

It is far from the tone that Cellbit usually asks that question in, but it’s still one.

Philza… Does pause. He can’t even mouth his words, but he gestures to his eyes, and then to the darkness around them, glancing over his shoulder as he does.

He’s been looking around a lot…

“You’re being chased?”

Given someone was clearly trying to keep him wherever he was, it’s the obvious conclusion.

He nods - once, twice, gestures harder at the darkness and makes to keep running.

And then his eyes catch on a rose.

Missa had mentioned something about roses, how they were supposed to protect the family. There had been a garden of roses, the children asleep and Philza and Missa sat talking beneath the moon. And then Phil just… Dropped through the floor mid-sentence. Gone, before Missa could grab him. Gone, just like that, from a garden that should have been a sanctuary but whose leaves were withered now.

They’d looked and they’d searched and they’d hunted, and all that could be found was a small hole, with purple-touched darkness beneath.

Much the same colour as the void-taint in Philza’s eyes.

Cellbit picks a rose from the bush, and hands it to Philza, “Missa mentioned they’re… protection charms for you?”

At the mention of Missa, Philza's eyes snap from the flower to Cellbit, eyes suddenly much wider and Cellbit…

Cellbit maybe should have said sooner, because all he would want to know if he’d been tortured is if Roier and Richarlyson were safe.

“He’s safe,” Cellbit promises. “Foolish is hosting a sleepover for the Eggs tonight - he took Chayanne and Tallulah.”

Philza doesn’t look like he believes him.

So, Cellbit presses on.

“He showed me the rose garden, though the flowers were dead,” he continues. “And the… hole? Portal? Void-patch?”

Philza wriggles his hand, holds up three fingers, and huh. Between the rose and talk of Missa, he at least seems to have calmed a tiny bit. The talk of a dead garden seems upsetting, but he clings to the rose in bandaged hands like something precious.

“It was very small, very precise. Clearly whatever took you only wants you,” and Cellbit is spitballing, only hoping he is on the right track both emotionally and logically as he still pieces it together. “It hasn’t taken anyone else, either; even if you stay in my house, it’s unlikely it will take me.”

Frankly, Cellbit doesn’t care if it does - all the more chance to create a distraction for one of them to kill it - but he knows Philza will.

Because it’s Philza, and he’s a better person than Cellbit ever had the chance to be.

“So, please, come back inside?”

Philza looks at the rose, then at Cellbit’s hand, then hesitantly, very hesitantly, takes it.

It’s hard work, leading Philza back into the safety of the castle. He’s edgier than before, and keeps being startled by the slightest sounds. He is usually vigilant, noticing the smallest of oddities, but to jump at every animal scurrying in the underbush…

Cellbit sees him reach for an axe which is not there, and maybe that’s part of the problem too.

They make it back to safety, and Philza clings to the rose even as his feet are cleaned again - bandaged this time - and he is helped into the nightshirt. Cellbit has always been the taller of the two, but they were once of similar builds - it should not hang nearly as loosely as it does.

With his lips sewn shut… Cellbit isn’t sure he can help.

“They’re probably asleep, but do you want me to text Missa? So he can bring Chayanne and Tallulah in the morning?”

Philza hesitates - if he’s still being chased… Well, Cellbit can guess why the concern.

“I can put some wards down, and ask them to come with Roier? He’ll look after them.”

He gets a nod this time, though it is slow.

Cellbit pulls out his communicator, focused as he tries to think of how to tell Missa - it’s not even a case of what would he want to know if Roier was in Philza’s situation, because Missa… Cellbit doesn’t know the man well, but they certainly have very different personalities.

In the end he settles on ‘Philza appeared at my place last night. He’s hurt, but I’ve been looking after him. Get Roier to show you over. Doesn’t have a communicator or anything.’

He shows it to Philza, who hits send, and then with clumsy, bandaged fingers writes ‘Did HE hurt you? Be safe - HE still wants me.’

That message is sent, then another is typed. It’s just as slow, Philza obviously frustrated as he has to delete duplicated letters. Still, he turns Cellbit’s communicator towards him, and shows him the message.

‘Cut it’

That those words took three minutes and clear /pain/ to write cuts deeply into Cellbit.

Just being stabbed is too kind for whatever did this. Cellbit will tear it apart with his /teeth/.

“Cut what?” he asks.

Philza hesitates, before stealing Cellbit’s knife, and bringing it to his lips.

“Stop!” Cellbit grabs his wrist, disarming him far more easily than he should have been able to. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

The reply he gets is a withering glare.

It’s good to see him have some confidence back, whatever the roses mean, but if he’s going to use it to hurt himself…

“I don’t… Think I can do this,” Cellbit licks his own lips, running a thumb of Philza’s.

His hand with the knife in it is grabbed, and tugged on.

“Fine!” If he doesn’t, Philza’s going to do it as soon as his back is turned, isn’t he? “God, I’ll try. But just enough to drink something, okay? I don’t trust myself.”

There’s a long pause, but eventually Philza nods. Cellbit swaps his knife for a smaller switchblade, flicking it open and peeling Philza’s lips open. He aims for the centre where there is least risk of damaging other things, carefully slotting the knife through…

Fuck.

He manages to cut a few of the strings, but in doing so he catches Philza’s lip. It’s not a deep cut, but he can see the blood bubbling.

He wants to lick it.

He presses a tissue there instead.

“Hold this, just let me get you a straw.”

Cellbit waits to make sure Philza has the tissue held in place - he’s smiling at him, how is Philza smiling at him when he /cut/ and /torture victim/ - before running to the kitchens.

How is he being trusted like this? He’s a fucking murderer, a heartless, cruel man; he isn’t…

He isn’t someone you fucking trust with a knife near your face.

What has this island done to him? He doesn’t mind it, doesn’t… He doesn’t hate it, he actually likes it - the having friends, the having family, the people relying on him.

It’s fucking terrifying, though.

This has only proved that.

He still needs some moments to calm down. His hands shake with the memory of blood on Philza’s lip, and it’s all he can do to pour some soup into a saucepan, and set it on the hob. Half-remembering the last time he starved he adds extra water, thinning it down. While it cooks he makes himself tea, and fetches Philza water, apple juice, and a selection of straws.

It takes a few minutes to warm the soup through. Once it has, Cellbit has just about found his footing again. He serves it up, and carries everything through.

“Here, sorry about the wait,” he says.

Philza has somehow found a second rose, and is awkwardly braiding them together. With his hands it is loose, but Cellbit can see what he’s trying for.

His lip has stopped bleeding, at least.

Neither is put down as he’s handed the glass of water. It takes Cellbit a few moments to work out the problem, but eventually realises; with his own fully functional hands he helps Philza angle the straw through the gap in the stitching, and lets him drink.

He drinks like a dying man, and Cellbit supposes it’s close enough to true. He doubts either of them have any idea how long his lips have been stitched together, but it’s long enough that the thread is stained…

Philza manages the water, then looks curiously at the rest of the tray. Cellbit offers it to him; he hesitates over the juice, but points at the soup.

Cellbit checks the temperature first - drinking the water had been slow enough to cool it down a little at least - before helping Philza once again. This time he has to help support the bowl as well as the straw. It’s awkward, but they manage it between them.

About a third of the watery soup is managed before Philza refuses more.

Cellbit has no idea if that’s good or not.

Still, they’re both exhausted, and it’s something to keep him going, and Roier will be here in the morning. Roier isn’t a doctor, of course, but Cellbit trusts him with significantly more delicate things than himself.

Cellbit can be dexterous, but delicate is for investigations not handiwork.

Forcing Philza to walk again on his injured feet seems needlessly cruel; the sofa is not the comfiest place to sleep, but Cellbit would put money on it being the comfiest place he’s slept in a long while.

“Sleep here - I’ll go grab some blankets,” Cellbit says, and he leaves, and by the time he returns Philza has already passed out on the couch.

He tucks the blankets around him, making sure he will stay warm overnight; the castle is draughty at the best of times, and when someone is sick and injured is not the time to tempt fate.

Then he sits on the floor beside the bed, knife in his lap, meaning to think and meaning to keep guard.

Most of Philza’s injuries are just torture wounds. They say little about his captor, or what they want. He’s clearly been in the End or the Void for too long - his eyes have a hint more purple, there’s dappled stains across his skin, and Cellbit isn’t sure which symptoms he has but it will probably make him struggle for warmth and fuck with his brain. That should be something like proof against this being a Federation ploy - they don’t seem to have easy access to other dimensions - but is not definitive.

The slicing on his feet despite the lack of it on his wings also is not definitive, but does not fit their usual goal. Unusual location and unusual goals? Probably not them. Stitching inside his mouth… Adds to that, really, the Federation are more cut your tongue out or sedate people sorts, not sew them up.

A goal, a goal… Philza’s face and his wings are mostly untouched, which would imply some awful… display piece, Cellbit supposes. The rags of his clothes would count against it, but perhaps he was only allowed to wear them when he was needed. Despite that appearance he could not have been that highly valued - the stitching in his mouth prevents drinking, so he would have died in another few days. Mentally scattered, but does seem to recognise people and places still - Cellbit rules out brainwashing, or at least if they tried it they failed. The injuries don’t imply anything sexual, which leaves…

Cellbit runs through it all again. Nothing quite makes sense, except…

End entities don’t like water, do they? Maybe they don’t need to drink.

Do they even need to eat? Or do they exist on some other sort of sustenance?

If he was held captive by something with no need to eat or drink, the sewn up mouth is no longer incompatible with the idea of a trophy, or a prize…

---

At some point Cellbit must have fallen back to sleep, because he wakes up to yelling. He doesn’t even think - he grabs the closest item - bucket of water - and throws it in the direction of the assailant.

He recognises the voice about three seconds later, when Roier shrieks.

“Fuck! Sorry!” Cellbit’s awake now, hair stuck to the side of his face as he scrambles up.

“Bitch!” Roier shakes off the water then, realising Cellbit is getting up, latches onto him.

Now they are both wet.

“Are you okay?! Roier’s revenge is had, or maybe not as wet hands trail all over him. “Fuck, Gatinho, don’t message me asking for medical advice at 3am and leave blood on the carpet! Come wake me up next time!”

“I’m fine!” he promises back. “I’m sorry, I’m okay, I’m fine - is Missa with you?”

“Missa?”

Roier left before Missa was awake. Fuck. Hopefully he works it out, because Cellbit’s too asleep for this.

“It’s Philza,” Cellbit replies, dropping his voice at the secret. “He woke me up last night, looking for help. I think?”

Roier’s lips form a perfect O, as he turns and finally spots Philza still sleeping on the couch. Cellbit watches as he looks him over - most of the injuries are beneath the blankets, but he is still clearly unwell - and then sees the straw in the part-finished bowl of watery soup.

A rose is still clutched in Philza’s hand, just visible where it slips out from the blanket.

“How bad is it?” Roier asks, quiet.

“They sewed his fucking mouth shut,” Cellbit replies. “I cut a little so he could drink, but stopped when I caught his lip. Cuff burns on his wrists and ankles, fucked hands, they sliced up his /feet/ so he couldn’t run, then he ran on them barefoot anyway.”

“Stupid Feds,” Roier’s nose twitches.

Cellbit shakes his head, “there’s void-taint on his chest and in his eyes. No idea how sick he is, but the Feds don’t have End access.”

“That we know about.”

And Cellbit has to concede that point - still, he talks Roier quietly through Philza’s other injuries, and explains what he did. At the end, his husband looks about as helpless as he feels, but does pull a small pair of scissors out of a pocket.

“We should probably give him, I dunno, antibiotics or something,” Roier pulls a face. “For his feet. How do we treat void-sickness? Is it just keep him away from it?”

Cellbit has no idea - it’s not like he has spent prolonged periods of time in the End, “someone will know, right? Maybe when Missa gets here?”

Roier raises an eyebrow and, fair, Missa also has likely never been to the End, but Cellbit thinks the man deserves more credit than he ever gets. If it’s for Philza, he can probably brute force his way into the answer by sheer stubbornness alone.

That entire family is a bit like that.

“If not… We can at least ask who they want telling,” Cellbit concedes. “I didn’t want to just put anything in general and have everyone on my house.”

“We’re going to murder whoever did this, right?”

“Of course.”

Roier kisses his cheek, and once Cellbit is done blushing he finds Philza watching them.

“Morning,” he says, as Roier notices and waves.

“Hey Philza,” Roier drawls on the name. “Cellbo says you got something stuck in your mouth?”

Philza flips him off. It’s a clear struggle for him to sit up, but he manages it.

“Is it okay if Roier takes the stitches out?” Cellbit asks, getting a withering look from both of them at how soft his voice turned as he said it.

Despite that, Philza nods. Roier nudges him into a different position, and sits opposite on the sofa; he actually remembers to wash his hands before peeling back Philza’s lips, and Cellbit feels a bit stupid for not thinking of that.

As he watches Roier carefully use the tiny scissors to cut the threads, Cellbit keeps guard. His fingers flick back and forth over his knife but there’s no target, nobody who isn’t dear to him here to use it on.

He’s helpless, and he knows it; hopefully between them they can work out who he needs to kill and how.

The threads are cut, and Philza is allowed a drink as Roier finds the tweezers in the first aid kit. Pulling out the threads comes with flinching and bleeding wounds, and there’s only so much that antiseptic-soaked cotton wool can do.

The thread-holes are small enough that they stop bleeding quickly, but the blood from Philza’s mouth is horrific.

There’s a thread or two left to remove when Cellbit hears the door, and remembers he should have checked his comms. He leaves Roier treating Philza to head down.

This time he opens the door to find Missa, Chayanne and Tallulah - and an awkward looking FitMC, hanging towards the back.

And Cellbit suddenly realises it’d be a really bad idea to let the children see their father while Roier’s still treating him.

“Is Phil…?” Missa asks.

“Roier’s treating some of his injuries,” Cellbit replies. “Do you want to help me make breakfast for everyone?”

The sign Chayanne slammed down is put away in favour of nodding, and grabbing his sister’s hand. If Missa bought Fit, even if only for directions, Cellbit is happy enough to let him in - he gestures for him to follow, and leads everyone to the kitchen.

It’s awkward, and quiet, and nobody seems to know how to break it. Still, Cellbit shows them around and admits “they sewed his mouth shut. Roier’s fixing it, but we need light and easy food, okay?”

For all he nods, Chayanne seems to misunderstand. There is some simple stuff, yes, but a flurry of activity and complicated dishes too. Tallulah arranges them on the plate with extreme focus, and Cellbit…

Cellbit takes the two adults, and uses the stove.

Quietly, while the children are occupied, he explains what he knows. They listen, Missa frets, and Fit’s face is grim.

“I want to check with him first,” Fit looks at Missa, who gives him a nod. “But I think I know what bullshit he got himself into.”

“You do?” Cellbit asks.

Fit shrugs, looks uncomfortable. “He was scared, thought he was being threatened… We’ll explain later.”

And that’s the sort of shit Cellbit could have done with knowing before this shit happened. He’d like to strange someone, but he knows why he wasn’t told; Purgatory was… rough, to say the least.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” Missa adds, in Spanish, Fit glancing at his wrist to read the translations. “Fit only knows because it started when I was gone and the kids were missing.”

Cellbit doesn’t feel much better - the egg cracks with a little too much force, and he imagines it’s a skull.

It takes a little while for breakfast to be ready, and Cellbit hopes it gave Roier enough time. He warns the children their father is probably hurting, so be gentle, and also his mouth and hands hurt so he may not say much.

They consider him with far too much seriousness for their age; Tallulah writes a sign for them both, simply reading ‘I know’.

He leads them back through. Philza is holding some gauze to his lip, curled up in the corner of the sofa and watching the room. Roier sits on the other corner, sword clearly in grabbing range even as he tries to keep up low and playful chatter. It goes quiet when everyone else enters.

Chayanne and Tallulah move first, running to their father’s side. Neither of them touch him, though, waiting for the quiet ‘hello’ spoken in a deeply hoarse voice, and for Philza to offer them each a hand. Missa follows, taking the middle spot on the sofa. He hesitates, barely risking moving, but Philza leans his head on his shoulder and so Missa snakes an arm behind his back.

Every one of the four of them is either carrying or wearing a rose. Now he looks, Fit has one too.

“Was it him?” Fit asks, sitting heavily on a chair opposite.

Philza nods.

“Well, fuck,” Fit sighs, and looks around. “I’m gonna guess you need stuff for void-sickness? Anything else I should ask Pac e Mike for?”

And of course Tazercraft are the obvious people to ask. Scientists with a habit of breaking reality have likely seen this before.

“Antibiotics,” Roier adds. “For preventing infection in wounds dirty for too long? And painkillers.”

Philza gives him a withering glare at painkillers, but his hands are busy with his children and even if his lips are now free, it must /hurt/.

Chayanne distracts him by placing a huge amount of food both on his lap, and the floor all around. Missa laughs and Philza looks fond, but shakes his head softly. Missa takes one of the broths, though, and offers it to him.

Despite having his mouth free, Philza still reaches for a straw.

And Cellbit, Cellbit wants answers, but Fit is texting his boyfriend who Cellbit hopes has Richarlyson, so there’s not really anyone to ask.

Roier pulls a silly face at him.

Cellbit likes to think he’s above pulling one back, but whatever he does, Roier laughs anyway.

But, he does have breakfast for everyone else, so he hands it around and drinks his coffee and waits impatiently patiently for the family to quietly sort themselves out.

Eventually, Philza looks at Cellbit, mouthing ‘thank you’ and then, “I… you want to know?”

“Yes.”

Philza looks at Missa, then Fit - both of them nod.

“Fit,” Missa says. “Can you? I am not sure all of how to say it in English.”

Fit sighs again, puts his communicator away, and nods.

“What do you know of the Ender King?” He asks.

It’s a name that Cellbit has never heard before, but ideas are already forming; Roier is also shaking his head, a shrug on his arms and confusion in his eyes.

“Right,” Fit pulls a series of faces. “Now, I don’t know a lot. But, couple of months ago, Phil called me over to his house. It’s happened a few times - seeing messages and structural changes in the bunker I couldn’t see. One time Pac was with me, and he was just weirded out-”

Philza butts in, with a quiet, “it was Rose.”

“Rose?”

Philza nods, Chayanne slams down a sign.

‘She looks after us!’ the boy writes. ‘All of our familia.’

“She’s a goddess,” Missa adds, slowly, clearly thinking about his words. “But her powers are weak here… She looks after four, King only wants one.”

Tallulah adds ‘it’s why the bad things can’t find us’, and Cellbit isn’t quite sure which bad things Tallulah means, but it has to mean something.

Eye workers, maybe.

The idea of a goddess protecting a family is… Not exactly strange to Cellbit; he’s dabbled in the occult enough to know what sort of entities would do that, at least.

“She’s my,” Philza coughs, harsh, his throat not really ready for talking. “Spawn goddess. Where I come from.”

That’s stranger, but explains why she might like that.

“Right,” Fit says. “That one turned out to be less a problem, but the one that followed… When I went over Philza was in the middle of a panic attack, only not crying because Chayanne and Tallulah were there. He said a being from his dreams had contacted him, one more powerful than anything, against which there’s nothing we can ever do. Something about a war, and wanting Phil for himself. Phil made me promise to look after the kids if he was taken, that he’d find some way back but we were /not/ to go after him.”

And they listened? Cellbit is mostly surprised that they listened, but then Philza and his friends are more practical sorts than himself and Roier.

“There were more letters,” Missa says. “He started… corrupting Rose’s letters? Because he couldn’t find Philza.”

“And then he found you.” Cellbit finishes.

And it’s not the whole story, he knows it isn’t the whole story, but he’s got enough for the themes - a being which calls itself a god wants Philza for some reason is hunting him. That being comes from wherever Philza was before here, and has plans for him. Perhaps he is trapped as a pawn in a war between the gods and a war prisoner you are trying to sell makes sense for his treatment.

Perhaps he did something to piss off the god.

“My memory is,” Philza gestures to his head, and Cellbit knows the amnesia affecting many islanders touched him too, so he nods. “I don’t remember but…”

There’s a sign, turned to Philza where Cellbit cannot see.

Philza’s face shifts, and softens, and he reaches out for his children again as he says “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Does he have weaknesses,” Roier asks. “Everything has weaknesses!”

Philza laughs, bitter and dry. It turns into another coughing fit, one that leaves him shaking and leaning on Missa for support.

Cellbit notes Fit texting again, and has his suspicions as to what it says.

Once Philza recovers, he says, “the Ender King is fucking dead, mate. Water burnt him, but now he has no body… He’s weaker, can’t steal entire cities anymore, but he lost his weaknesses to.”

Worse than a god, it is the ghost of a god.

Has no body, though?

Cellbit looks at Philza again, and wonders - the void sickness has clearly done more to his mind than his body, and a deity of the End could likely manipulate it. If it had left him a functional body but empty mental shell…

War prisoner or flesh suit, either way Cellbit needs to work out how to kill a god’s ghost.

[Notes - void sickness. I’ve not really developed it but tldr overworld bodies are not well adapted to other realms. Too long in the void (also the End, where the atmosphere is void) fucks you up. Purple rash-like staining across skin, purple tint getting into your eyes. Common symptoms include dissociation, derealisation, and a susceptibility to the cold. If it reaches organs it can cause them to shut down, though always works from the outside in (or if caused by eating too much chorus fruit, which is an option, from your digestive tract out). The comment about Philza’s lips or throat with not speaking is if the taint had reached either his voice box or the muscles controlling his lips. Philza’s actually pretty fucking resistant to it, by a combination of genetics and very slowly increasing his exposure over time. Most people would be dead from that long, he’s just… It’s deep enough to cause muscle weakness in places, but it isn’t yet deep enough to cause damage like ‘lungs cease functioning’. The ‘bonus’ of his mouth sewn shut is they couldn’t feed him end-food, so it was only working out-in not in-out. Much like with fairies if you eat of the end bad shit happens.]

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #hurt/comfort #angst #*gestures vaguely*#please just take it I'm done with this fic #there was supposed to be more after but I liked that line as an ending line so it's the end now #I also feel you should know I wrote this watching old 3D animated b@rbie movies in the background #specifically princess and the pauper and 12 dancing princesses #plus a lot of silence #but please appreciate me writing torture aftermath to kid's movies #stuck the @ in so it doesn't show up in the other fandom tagsg

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alluringjae · 2 years

Text

sinfully vowed to you - jjh

open your legs, not your bible | sinfully vowed to you

SUMMARY. how far will you go for love? perhaps to the point you’re bound for marriage, but the groom you seek isn’t the one your heart beats for. and desperately, you must gamble everything without regrets.

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 13.2k

GENRE. loads of angst, fluff, and slice of life at the end | rich bad boy!jaehyun, rich good girl!reader, implied enemies to lovers!au, forbidden romance!au

PLAYLIST. don’t blame me (sped up and reverb) by taylor swift [the main reason of how this story came to be]

WARNINGS. arranged married to a surprise neo, mentions and appearances of more neos, references to and slight bad-mouthing Christianity, one heated argument where 2 of the 10 commandments are recited, mentions and portrayal of manipulative parents, explicit language, petnames, “stop the wedding” shenanigans, mentions of Satan, mentions and potrayals of physical and verbal assault, eloping, allusions to virginity loss and sex, mention of praise kink, tension between rival families, pregnancy ((let me know I missed anything else))

⤑ vero’s words: reposting bc tvmblr being a bit rood for not showing up on the tags 💀 also did some minor edits and added extra parts i forgot from my final draft huhuhu but omg yeah thank you for all the love for the first part!!! i didn’t expect it to blow up my phone notifs soooo i hope this second part (unsure if it’s the last one who knows right) makes up the sudden cliffhanger HAHAHAHA happy reading!!! 💗

⤑ disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i don’t own the people/characters written, but the plot is mine. translations or copying my work is not allowed.

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback or hellos!

SIX HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

They say a wedding is every little girl’s dream. Whether it was the white gown or having a gorgeous partner at the end of the aisle whom they truly love, it’s like magic unfolding by the eyes of their esteemed guests.

The power of love ever so beautiful, and how everyone anticipates for it to grown each passing. And for the couple, to be eternally bound and in love until their final breath.

You were one of those little girls caught up in the fantasy, until it was tainted by the bitter reality of your pre-constructed future.

Hushed chatter are exchanged between your assigned makeup artist and hair stylist. They express pride in being booked by such an influential family for such a lavish wedding, doing their best to live up to the high expectations. But they’ll never understand how the smiles you give when they loop you into their small talk, it’s an act. Deep down, you dread their fruits of their labor working out.

Yet you wish to stop yourself from changing into this magnificent white gown cascading every curve of your figure. The upper half is of a tube design, folded twice and sewn. As for the bottom, the fabric are crafted into ruffles that flair until the bottom. A veil is clasp on top of your bun, awaiting until the big event to place over your head. Oh, there are gloves to match.

“Keep yourself entirely covered and pure after your wedding vows.” Your mother once insights as you nod along during your first dress fitting back then. Quite ironic to hear that now, huh?

Eventually (and much to your convenience), the overall styling is done. You bid genuine gratitude to the staff before they exit your hotel room while you remain alone to rest up. It was going to be a long day of superficial joy before facing lifelong period of unhappiness and duty.

As much as you want to enjoy your beautiful reflection right by the full-length mirror, your heart cannot simply move past the tragedy and pain strongly throbbing inside you.

What was the point to be dolled up like this if the groom you seek is not the chosen one?

And what more for a wedding being the happiest day of every little girl’s life if your arranged groom already has a special someone vacating their heart?

The outside world can only rejoice for such a joyous occasion, but the two of you can only mourn for the freedoms that have been permanently washed away.

Quite frankly enough, you still remember that very day you met your fiancé. You can only grieve for what has already been done without your willing knowledge and consent…

And for what else is to come after it.

TEN MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

It’s merely two days after your father’s sudden announcement of marriage, and your groom-to-be reached out to you through your mother. He didn’t have your number, so he contacted her first then you.

Meanwhile, your poor heart remains to sob and cry out every ounce of pain. Yet it never decreased, especially when you still had to tell Jaehyun. But you still didn’t have the bravery, dodging his calls and texts on your burner phone.

For the meantime, you needed to face your groom-to-be in hopes for at least a civil relationship.

The cafe near your office was a good 5 minute walk for him, and out there he already laid out his honest intentions and thoughts.

“I understand what we must do for our families’ empires.” He starts off in a downcast manner. “But do know that affection-wise, I can never reciprocate it with you.”

You curved a mini grin. “What’s she like then?”

“Wait, are you not offended?” He’s taken aback. Nothing has occurred but rejecting any future romantic endeavors to the kindest and most angelic woman in the city. He’s aware of the asshole move, but your reaction is very unlike you.

You laugh, breaking a bit of the tension. “Should I be?”

“We’re set to be married, to fall in love over time. So it’s unfair for you if I can’t give you just that. And my, you deserved to be loved in full.”

You heart wrenches. “But you deserve that just as much as I do because--“

“Because?”

“My heart belongs to another as well.”

Silence floods the both of you. Eye contact is evident, not ignored. Your irises drain of energy, of hope. And yet, there’s a nudge of comfort in sharing burdens together.

The burden of your liberty fading day by dad and impenetrable heartbreak.

And even if Jaehyun doesn’t know it yet, you’re already grieving.

“If not a loving relationship,” He cuts the tension. “May we at least remain amicable? I understand that our fates are shitty, but I cannot find any reasons to hate you.”

“I-I’d like that.” You stutter, glad that one good thing came out of a rather pleasant conversation. “I look forward to putting on a façade for the world with you.”

And as if by magic, your future dons a gummy smile. “Likewise, (Y/N). It’ll be a lot less hellish with you by my side.”

The two of you shake hands to it.

“I truly apologize for my family’s greed, (Y/N).” He says with guilt.

“I apologize for the same thing as well, Doyoung.”

THREE HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Speaking of the man, your phone pings with a notification. The two of you communicate constantly like close friends, a surprising pro to everything.

DY KIM: My mother is looking for you

DY KIM: She wants a photo of her future mother-in-law

(Y/N) Lee: Ew gross

(Y/N) Lee: How fake can she get this time in liking me

DY KIM: As fake as her beloved nose job

(Y/N) Lee: Jesus Doyoung

DY KIM: HAHAHAHA I’d say hurry once you’re done having some last minute alone time

DY KIM: I really don’t want to be around your parents, especially your over-the-top, conservative mother

(Y/N) Lee: Is she telling you not to meet me rn bc it’s gonna bring us misfortune

(Y/N) Lee: If she is, don’t even bother

(Y/N) Lee: Althoughhhh I do stand by that if you don’t mind

DY KIM: Oh, I see. I’m sorry about that, I didn’t know

(Y/N) Lee: No worries, we have our whole lives to figure more things about each other

DY KIM: such a scary idea

(Y/N) Lee: not as scary as both your parents asking me about our future children

DY KIM: I AM STILL SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

(Y/N) Lee: It’s alright, Doyoung

(Y/N) Lee: That is one of my main duties as your future wife

DY KIM: But I don’t wanna think of that yet

DY KIM: Let’s focus on getting through this show

DY KIM: So I’ll see you in the altar?

(Y/N) Lee: Definitely, see you then.

It’s strange how you and Doyoung managed to create a friendship in the midst of your emotional distresses. Maybe in this lifetime, you’re only destined a marriage out of duty. But out of love? There’s no room for that.

Though perhaps now, you may have given yourself an exception. You share a loving look in the mirror because regardless of the occasion, you’re dressed to the nines. You shall not waste it.

You’re only going to get married once after all, right?

“Miss Lee.” Someone knocks on the bedroom door of your suite. It was one of the wedding planners, whose arms carry a captivating bouquet of white roses.

Your favorite.

“These are lovely!” Your legs carefully rush towards her, hoping not to break your heels. “Are these the flowers I’ll be walking the down aisle with?”

“Yes!” She replies. “In fact, this was a last-minute decision because the original red roses sent by the Kims are a bit too striking to the eye. You should be the main star after all.”

You nod. “If that’s the case, may I know who I sent them?”

“Funny you ask, Ms. Lee.” The planner takes a few steps back, only to return with an enclosed white envelope. “This gift came from an anonymous person, and one of my team members was informed that only you can read the letter it comes.”

Your brows scrunch in suspicion and confusion as you accept the envelope. But before you can question it, the planner interrupts your thoughts. “The car you’ll be riding in to go to the church is arriving soon, so we must head out in a bit.”

“Yes, I got that.” You affirm, trying not to get too caught up on this extra frenzy. Curiosity is a great trait of yours, but it can be problematically uncontrollable at time. “May I just spend a few more minutes to read this letter and touch up on my perfume? This can be from all my brothers.”

“Of course.” With that, the planner bows with respect as she leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Without anymore time to waste, your fingers rip out the envelope whilst enjoying the fresh aroma of the flowers. Straight out of the shop for sure, could all your brothers possibly have the time to buy it?

Taeyong is too occupied with his wife and only son to consider such a request.

Ten, your half-brother, just flew in this morning from Thailand. Staying any longer than today can cause major havoc, especially with your mother.

Mark sucks at being romantic. No wonder he can’t keep any of his ex-girlfriends.

Jeno, well. It’s not his thing. Not with his playboy personality lately.

Haechan is still hungover from partying with his friends just last night according to your sibling group chat.

Yet even with this, you’d still like to give all of them the benefit of the doubt. As the only girl in the Lee family, they respect and love you in their own ways. And it’s your wedding day, for God’s sake. They’re aware of how unhappy you are despite denying such, so sending flowers are their way of cheering you up.

Oh, how wrong you are.

Innocently, you unfolded the letter and bit by bit, your mouth lets out a gasp. The handwriting is all too familiar from the first few words on top, alongside the fresh perfume that was sprayed on it.

It came from the last person you can ever expect. The last person you could think or dream about.

Yet the only person your heart desperately longs for.

You’re gutted, yet you needed to contain yourself.

But fuck, flashbacks of the last time you saw each other replay in your head. And none of them were good memories.

FIVE MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Time is crucial in everything you do.

And you knew you fucked up when you kept delaying on telling Jaehyun your wedding when he saw it on today’s major headline in the news.

Here you two were, in your apartment where he manages to sneak in perfectly as always.

But confusion and anger were his driving emotions, and you couldn’t blame him the slightest.

What a coward you are.

“When will you ever stand up for yourself, (Y/N)? When will you call out those people who keep trampling over you?” Those were the first words he expressed, pacing your living room back and forth.

“But these are my parents, Jaehyun!” You tried to stay strong and neutral. You had no choice. “God, I hate them but I can’t lose them. If I do, I lose everyone else.”

“Are you really afraid of losing them or losing the privileges you’ve gained over the years from them?”

“Excuse me?”

“Admit that you are.” He marched forward where you stood. By the window, you’re looking down at the impending traffic. At the cars desperately eager to get home, was this how God saw everyone? Does He watch the suffering of His children in hopes they learn a lesson, or to put them through absolute misery?”

Because nothing else can destroy your heart but Jaehyun’s pain directly speaking at you.

“They’ll remove you from their wills and inheritance, try to blacklist you everywhere, badmouth you to other, rip the whole city apart even to find wherever you are if you run away.” He listed on and on. “How do I know? Because I’m afraid too.”

“Fearing of starting anew, fearing that no one will support you, fearing of what’s to come when you disobey mommy and daddy because you’ve broken Commandment #4.”

“Honor your mother and father.” You responded naturally. How can you not when it’s a major rule you followed all your life?

“But you and I both know that they’re neither deserving of such because they are a lot worthy in the deeper realms of hell.” He spat without care.

“Don’t say that!” You protest.

“But you know I’m right!” And you knew was, but your pride was too high for that. Call it your only sin, one of the seven deadly ones. Truly ironic on your end.

“But it’s not that easy to stray away from my family! Unlike you whose parents give you so much freedom to explore, I am always on a leash.” You try to defend yourself, close to being on the verge of tears. Everything you’ve built with Jaehyun is starting to fall apart. The only person who’s made you feel sane and at ease. But you’re cornered with no choice. “So if I choose to be impulsive, I’ll be trapped. Locked in my bedroom like Rapunzel.”

You distance your glare towards another view, not wanting Jaehyun to see your now falling tears. “And if I run away and fail, my fate can be similar to Taeyong and Ten.”

Memories of Taeyong and Ten being beaten up to a pulp by your father and his henchmen when they tried to expose the corruption of your family to a media news outlet replays your mind. You were still in university, and didn’t mean to see that happening if not for your dying thirst. There was a water dispenser outside your bedroom, and wretched sounds from downstairs piqued your curiosity. Alas, whines from your older brothers as he was punched ruthlessly and bloodily in the living room. Your mother can only cry on the side, merely being a bystander to the abuse because she can’t stop your father.

“But has it crossed your mind that maybe, your brothers not want you to go through what they went through?” Jaehyun tries to compromise. Anything to keep you in his life. “That they too want you to make the big change in the family?”

“Even if they did, I just can’t risk it. Especially as the only woman among my siblings, marriage out of duty is my right.”

“What about us? Our freedom?”

“Freedom for a love like ours…” You trail. “… can only leave us 6 feet under.”

“But aren’t we worth a fight?” He begs. “I know what we signed up for our love likes ours, but shouldn’t we give it a shot? Give us a shot.”

“Jaehyun--“

“Do you not love me enough? Or is it me that loves you more than you?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Everything that’s happening right now is bullshit because rather than doing what’s right, isn’t pushing through with the wrong?” His temper nearly tramples your room down. Getting a noise complaint right now is the last thing you needed. “Isn’t that contradictory as the good religious girl you are?”

“So you think that I am the bad one here?” You almost scream in stress. “God, I should’ve never given you a chance.”

“Say that again, angel.” Jaehyun’s voice lowered.

Oh shit, you fucked up with your mindless words.

Your lover straightens his back, showcasing his full height. How he hovers you, making you walk back again while he follows. That’s until you hit the wall loud and clear. “I don’t think I can’t hear you clearly.”

“You Jeongs are trouble and always will be. How dumb of me to have been so merciful to sinners like you.”

“That’s not what you said when you kissed me back a lifetime ago.” He plays around your charade. He knows you don’t mean it.

“What makes you think God will take you back?” You challenge.

“If I had to attend mass every day and bathe myself in holy water to clear myself of every remnant of you, so be it.” His hands rake over your body, one landing on your waist and the other planted on the wall near your face. Lowering his stance, your body get goosebumps from the words that he whispers in your ear. “Commandment #9: Thou shall not bear false witness against me.”

You bit your lips, which he makes him smirk. To add, “We all know you’re uttering a lie, baby.”

As his ego inflates, that’s only when your senses return to their normal state. “Get off me.”

“But you’re my religion, baby.”

“Commandment #1: Thou shall have no other Gods before Me.” You retaliated. “Convert back to your old self, Jaehyun. The one before you rejoined Bible study.”

“Baby.”

“It’s blasphemous to describe me as a religion when I am no god. So If you really love me, you’d understand my sense of duty and let me go.” Don’t. Please. You’re at a point of confusion, but you cannot let whatever feelings you have for Jaehyun jeopardize your life. Perhaps these feelings shall pass too.

Right?

“(Y/N).”

“Please don’t make it any harder for us, Jaehyun.” You weakly pushed him away. “So please go.”

Jaehyun’s been the type to rile you up, to take risks. But he knows when enough is enough. As your orbs have been drained of its light, and your back slouched in fatigue, it’s a pain to see you this way.

But the pain that piles in his chest was more superior, and he starts to lash out. Like he’s back in square one with you.

“I loathe your family. You robbed my family all those years ago, so I thought I’d never like you no matter how kind-hearted you are in and outside the church. But I was so fucking wrong.” He starts to cry, which he rarely does. And it’s from the last person he ever expected it to be from. His only lover, the only person who understood him, was leaving him.

“You’re the only one who understood me when everyone turned their backs at me for my sharp tongue. Sure, we argued a lot but you put me in my place. In my cold world, you embraced me with warmth. You taught me how to soften up and make amends with Sungchan, and showed me what real love is unlike the harshness of my parents.” Your back was turned when he kept talking this point on, refusing to confront him more. It’s too much you can mentally and emotionally handle.

“But that doesn’t really matter anymore.” He sighs, giving up. “I fell for your tricks, and now, you robbed my whole heart. How it beats for you, and only you. Truly, robbing runs in your blood and it shall stay that way forever.”

“Jaehyun, wait--” From your cold stance, only now were you awakened by the consequences of your actions. But it was too late. Jaehyun was by your front door, opening it to exit your home.

And your life forever.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).”

TWO HOURS BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Will you ever be ready to read this note when your parting all those months ago was bitter?

Yet it does cross your mind how he’s been, how can you not be?

If this was your last connection to him, you must savor it. All the sweetness and bitterness blazed in it.

Dearest my angel,

Weddings allow you to witness the passion and love between a couple right before your eyes. There’s truly nothing more breathtaking than that.

I am so sorry for the way I acted that night and each word I spat at you. I pressured you into something that you weren’t comfortable with out of my greed, inconsiderate of how much stress you already were under beforehand. Rather than putting you on the spot and lashing out my growing heartbreak, I should’ve been by your side. To be your shoulder to cry on, especially when we know what kind of love if we’re in.

But forgive me and my poor heart: it still cannot accept that you’re betrothed to another. I cannot invalidate my emotions that day either, but regardless. I am sorry for my actions that night.

They say our kind of love is forbidden, disrespectful to our ancestors who loathed each other. But can we really blame our souls to find connection in the mutual pains of our manipulative families? Should we choose to hate our neighbors because they told us to do so, to continue the generational tradition? Damn, we should never be religious if our sense of humanity is fucked.

By this time, you’re already dressed in a fascinating white gown. You’ve always been beautiful, but you’re bound to make every angel above cry in praise as you walk down the aisle. They’ll see what I see in you, even if I’m not the man who gets to take your hand. Until death do us part, but we’ve already parted before we can ever truly begin.

Thank you for accepting me for who I am. Thank you for making me realize how much I’m worth versus the bad things my parents say about me. Thank you for always encouraging me to go after my dreams even when a lot of people has turned their backs on. Most of all, thank you for loving me as I have loved you.

I don’t deserve a space in Heaven, but I am glad I found Heaven in you. And now, I’m ready to step down. Not necessarily to let you go yet, but in time, I’ll be able to let you go and look back at our memories fondly.

So please don’t shed any more tears if I am the cause of them; it aches my heart thinking of it because you deserve all the happiness in the world. Freely live a new life with your groom and create amazing memories with him.

I believe that my purpose in God’s plan for you, which is to love you fully and authentically in this world of lies, has been fulfilled.

- J

“We must leave in 5, (Y/N).” The muffled voice of the planner echoes through your trance, one that has you silently sobbing underneath your lips. Tears that threaten to brim down, but your head shakes before they do so.

What have you done? You became a slave to your cowardice for the longest time, only for your courage to finally knock some sense into you. You simply cannot go through this ceremony, you had to get outta there.

But it was already too late. Life doesn’t wait on cowards like you.

With the white bouquet in hand, your last connection with him, you pull yourself together.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

ONE HOUR BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Pictures here, pictures there.

The ceremony hasn’t started, and yet your parents and Doyoung’s demand numerous shots with you by the hotel and in the church. Your toes start to ache in your heels, and to your side, your eyes beg Taeyong and Ten to save you from your misery.

The latter boy laughs from afar, giving you a thumbs up. Or rather his expression read, “You’re on your own to do your duty!”

Meanwhile, Taeyong cuts in between you having dreaded small talk with Doyoung’s self-righteous mother. Already proud to claim herself as your mother-in-law, your ears can bleed for every screech in her tone when she opens her mouth. Under the excuse of “having some 1-on-1 time with my only sister”, Taeyong escorts you to a quiet, closed room within the church.

“Thank God for you, Yongie.” You hug him with utmost gratitude. “I’m about to lose my mind if Mrs. Kim wouldn’t shut up.”

Taeyong laughs, gladly returning your gesture. “Anything for you, little sis.”

You scoff, correcting him. “Your only sis.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two of you smile at each other, enjoying the comfort of silence. Since you were children studying in your living room back then to the first time Taeyong taught you how to drink when you turn 18, he was like your best friend. Through thick and thin, and against your parents the two of you were. Slowly, you’re breaking the cycle of bad deeds.

Or trying to. Because neither of you got away with your arranged marriages.

Speaking of which…

“So this is really happening, huh?” Taeyong starts as he hands over a bottle of water from the refrigerator behind him. It’s by luck the two of you ended up in the private lounge of the church for esteemed wedding guests. “Are you ready for this lifelong commitment, (Y/N)?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You say flatly. “You had to go through this as well, but eventually, you began to love your wife so maybe it’ll work for me too.”

“I was very lucky with Minyoung. She’s my soulmate.” He smiles upon the thought of his lover, but it only enables the green monster of envy into your being. “But I don’t think our situations are ever going to be alike.”

You squint a brow from your stance by the window. “What do you mean?”

“I was single when I was arranged to be wed, no person vacating my heart nor had intentions to look for one.” He lingers, locking eyes with you. His bright, wide pupils that can easily read a person, it was like he was analyzing your entire mind and body language. But alas, he already knows a lot more than you can ever imagine.

It only explains how your fingers drastically slip from your bottle, spilling incandescently on the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t break because of the curtain above the wood. You alertly scurry away from the wet zone and lean against the glass bookcase of religious books. Dare not can you look at your brother in the eye, too busy being washed out with shame, guilt, and misery.

“Taeyong, I can explain.”

“What else is there to explain, little sis?” He keeps his composure, unfazed. No anger, no outlash, no negative emotions bubbling his figure. “Other than you’re in love with another man, one you know will cause mayhem when mother and father know of it.”

You want to deny everything he’s blurting out to you. But your sudden reaction is too much of a giveaway, and lying to Taeyong is impossible. Not when he’s best at sneaking around and digging secrets about everyone. Why do you think he figured out that Ten’s your half-brother, not just some exchange student from Thailand during your high school years?

“Of all the men out there, did it really have to be Jeong Jaehyun?” He asks with concern in his tone rather than judgement. It was the first time he utter the man’s name without hatred. Not when he’s someone very dear to you.

“Hush your voice! Someone might hear.” You order, peering at the door. Anyone can walk in, or eavesdrop. Your world has eyes and ears everywhere.

“Just answer the question, (Y/N).” His tone deafens, but his composure hasn’t wavered.

You sigh, gazing downwards while your fingers tightly clutch on your gown. “The heart wants what it wants. And I’m sure that until the end of time, it’ll always long for him.”

Taeyong remains speechless momentarily to calibrate with his thoughts. He’s been hesitant with Jaehyun the second he saw return to church a lifetime ago. Always up to no good, yet never to start a fight because he’s not the type. And luckily, they never crossed paths outside. He recalls how nervous he was upon hearing from the latest gossip (aka your mom) that Jaehyun joined the Bible study as probation for his consistent outside bar fights. You’re a consistent goer, so he can only pray that nothing bad happens to you.

Over the course of time, he witnessed Jaehyun tame down and become more active in church. Rather than be bitchy, he was impressed. Only God can judge people, not him. Yet at the same time, he observed how more laidback you became. You’re firm to your beliefs and faith, but not really the toxic, conservative type to force others that your beliefs were better than yours. It was more like you’ve loosened up strings and allowed to let your hair down, socializing more and trying new things. Perhaps riled your mother up for being “unladylike” at times, yet it didn’t bother you anymore. If you had fun and hurt nobody, how should a conservative mother’s unnecessary opinion affect you?

So now, onto you and Jaehyun.

It took him back when you’d both get in trouble by the nuns for your arguments, earning a scolding from him on the phone because “you’re better than this!” or a similar kind of pep talk. It’s merely enemies to somewhat friends when he thinks of the both of you, especially when you opened up how you came into a compromising understanding with Jaehyun out of maturity.

But the idea of love came rushing as he unintentionally saw the two of you kiss on the second floor of the open church. Jaehyun’s palms were situated on your waist while your arms loop behind the nape of his neck, both of you smiling at every movement your lips made.

The second floor is where the choir stays, and you and Jaehyun were packing up their songbooks post-mass. He showed you the different colors of light being reflected from the stained glass artworks. Specifically the image of the Virgin Mary, it lit up the best before the sunset. The both of you were distracted from such beauty, and eventually towards each other when specks of colored light hit your faces. Caught up in a meaningful moment, a passionate kiss where your bodies are right in front of the big crucifix was followed.

A symbol of showing Him that love had no boundaries or limitations.

A symbol that further enlightened Taeyong on how you’ve both changed.

You and Jaehyun balanced each other out over time, so it should be a no-brainer that this was going to happen. Yet he chose not to say anything about it then because he wanted to hear it from you. It was clearly a private moment too. He could’ve been mad, but he wasn’t.

You’re in love, and it’s real.

However, it’s only leading into a loophole of misery. Arranged marriages are a given in your clan, hence refraining from creating close relationships with the opposite sex. Oh, how you broke that rule ruthlessly.

“Who else knows?” You quiver, self-conscious and vulnerable. Were you not secretive enough? Did the burner phones you and Jaehyun used were actually trackable? Did someone follow you? All sorts of questions cloud your already cluttered brain.

“Ten.” Taeyong bluntly responds, and you stiffened.

As much as you love Ten, any so-called steamy information he gets within his circle he uses it as blackmail just like Taeyong. You would know; you were there when he confronted your father about his affair with his mother. That if he has no place in his empire, he’d expose such a scandal. It’s no question your mother (his step-mother when he got adopted a month after the threat) despises him to the core, a lot more than her disloyal husband.

But before the paranoia can worsen, Taeyong chimes in. “Don’t even think he’ll use it against you. In fact, he’s in favor of such like I am.”

“Wait what?!” Now, you’re confused.

“I know I confronted you at the most wrong time, and my tone this whole time is very vague.” He clarifies, and with every word, he walks toward you. As his clammy hands now holding yours, he fully lets out his main truth. “You have to make a choice, and we know this wedding isn’t the right one.”

“Taeyong, it’s too late.” You beg, utterly weak in his eyes. And how it aches him to see you like this. “He’ll never take me back. Not after he found out about the news.”

“You can never be too sure, so I wholeheartedly think that you need to make a move.” Taeyong’s quick vision spots a growing tear in your lid, wiping it carefully with his index finger. “It’s always been you being a pawn in our parents’ game. But this time, change the direction and claim your power as queen.”

“But our younger brothers…”

“I failed to set a proper example before so please learn from my experiences, (Y/N). Show them that we cannot let ourselves be controlled by our parents.”

Right as you wanted to reply, an impatient set of knocks intrude your now-or-never conversation.

“I’m already annoyed that I wasn’t invited to your heartfelt chat.” Ten’s sarcasm pipes in, which eases the tension surprisingly. “But the wedding starts in 5, and I want to spend some time with the bride as well.”

Taeyong hastily unlocks the door, while you followed behind him. Lo and behold, Ten graces a mischievous smirk as he leans against the door frame. Taeyong pecks your temple a final with a fervent look screaming “time is running” before he runs to assist Jeno refix his necktie.

That leaves you with Ten. With his arms crossed, he first marvels at your beauty.

“My sister, ever so beautiful.” The sweet scent of his parfum whiffs your nostrils, making you hum in comfort and familiarity. Regardless of being half-siblings, you always treated him the same as the rest.

“Thank you for coming. I feared that you wouldn’t after your recent brawl with dad.”

“I’d never let any shitty fight with that monster stop me from see you walk down the aisle. Plus, when are we not fighting?” He jokes, his hands finding the cloth of your veil to help you put it over your head. As per tradition as the beauty of the bride must only be saved by her groom. “But are you really happy to be here?”

Always straight to the point, that was Ten for you. With one brow lifting upwards in question, he continues on. “I’ve always known that you wanted real love, and when you did, you chose not to go through with it.”

“It’s complicated, and you know that.”

“Do I?” He challenges. “You’re in love with a boy who’s part of the rival family. That’s not hard to piece together.”

“How do you even know it’s him we’re talking about?”

“What other guy, excluding us siblings, have you been constantly around with?”

“Doyoung is there.”

“But he came in the picture late. Jaehyun, however--” He lengthens the tension. “He may have gotten on your last nerve numerous times in Bible study, but not when I saw you both have a secret late-night date by the Han River.”

Your eyes widened. Taeyong was right earlier. “Excuse me what?!”

Ten laughs at your shock. “I was trying to easen my hangover from my bar-hopping adventures with our younger brothers that night, but definitely sobered up when I saw you and him giggling over the smallest things by the river.”

“Ten, I—” It was your only public date with him, when no one could ever question or follow your moves. Even managed to convince your parents that you needed fresh air that day after all the stress at the company headquarters.

“Life is too fucking short, (Y/N).” He lays out his advice flatly. No detours, no sweet words. Just the real, harsh truth. “If you don’t make a stand, the regret of it all will kill you.”

PRESENT TIME.

Time can’t spare you a moment to breathe to answer him or deny his intentions. Because the second the wedding planner stressfully calls you over to stand behind the main church doors, all you can focus was this event. This wedding, one that numerous people anticipated. Loads of influential families that are acquainted with your parents filled up every pew, bridesmaids and groomsmen are lining up to enter the church first.

On the other hand, your parents stood each side of you. They beam in excitement, while you try to match them. Everything is for their selfish sake, anyways.

As the doors officially open, harmonious music from the band on the second floor play for everyone’s glee. Couple by couple, flower girl after flower girl, then Doyoung’s youngest cousin as the ring bearer, every single person has their eye on you. How much you’ve grown over the years, the elegance you embody is simply natural and no gown or makeup can compete with that.

Especially your groom, who shares an enchanted gaze at you from afar. And as flawless as he looks in his black suit and tie, the truth-binding words of your older brother resurface your mind. From trying to appreciate the efforts put in making the church a more enamoring location for a wedding, uncontrollable tears grace your visage. You’re glued to the program of this show, and any refusals will be disrespectful.

“Don’t get too emotional now.” Your mother comforts, only thinking that you’re overwhelmed in joy. “It’s only getting better from here.”

Lies.

Only you and Doyoung can truly share the same feeling at this moment. Even if he finds you ever so dashing, he proceeds to mask his own pain with a tight-lipped smile as he watches you walk down the long, flowery aisle. It was a representation of your life together ahead, especially seeing the petals blacken from the dirt. The reality of it all is only hitting you now as your parents hand you over to Doyoung, who directs you to the center. His hands still hold on to your covered ones, keeping up your façade.

“I’m sorry.” He mouths.

“Me too.” You reply.

The first of many. Such a disgrace to the crucifix above, yes. But what else can the two of you do now?

The priest politely greets the two of you before the ceremony officially begins.

The first and second readings ran smoothly, being read by your father and Doyoung’s mother. It’s almost like a typical mass, where the Homily often bores you to the point you wanted to pass out. Even had Doyoung, who sat beside you, worried.

“You look pale.” He comments. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a genuine smile. “It’s just hot in this church.”

“When has it not been?” He tries to joke, which you actually enjoyed.

Once the short-lived humor died down, you try to refocus your mind on the ongoing Homily. Surprisingly, you finally pick up and find yourself attentive for a change.

“Love is blind, they say. Perhaps, that’s true, as one cannot control how their heart can beat for another one. But there is also this saying: souls don’t meet by accident. Nothing in life is a coincidence: there’s always a reason why they meet. And when they do, it creates magic. They balance each other out in aspects they fall short, but not necessarily complete them. They bring the best sides of them out, yet fully let their vulnerabilities come under the light without fright. Because they know they’ll be protected than reprimanded.”

You’re unsure how restless your pupils became, eager for new perspectives. Maybe you need a fresher view other than the bright altar? If only you had your eye drops with you to alleviate the dryness, you certainly wouldn’t have felt this way.

As you blink once, twice, a couple more times, your eyes begin to feel better from the natural tears they make to lubricating itself. However, little did you realize where you were looking at.

From the altar, your vision went peripheral. By the second floor, right beside the choir, a silhouette stands up from their pew. Arms crossed and wrapping their arms around their blazer, he was rather suspicious. At this point, you’re quite acquainted with every guest present today. To the point that no one is meant to be seat up there unless you’re in the band.

You’re suddenly become aware that the longer you view that shadow, the weirder it’ll look for the guests. Your curiosity can really take you the far places, but often times, you need to be anchored before flying too far to the sun.

Speaking of which, the bright, shining light directly hits on the aforementioned shadow. Almost like a prayer, it heard you so it gave what you pleaded.

And man, you’re stunned by what unraveled before you.

His brown hair is styled upwards with a few strands in front of his forehead. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were folded to his elbows, while his black trousers have minor creases on the bottom hems. His eyebags darkened, showing lack of sleep on his end. However, his orbs greet yours with warmth. A reconnection, as you find it difficult to stray away. Dimples pop out as he smiles your way, fluttering your heart like a young teenager.

Why was it so familiar to you?

But there’s no way this was real, right? Have you started building delusions in your head as a coping mechanism to your upcoming lifelong misery?

You blink and shake your head for reassurance, but as you reopen your eyes, he was gone like magic. Yet his silhouette lingers through your mind. Alongside that, the ending words of the homily seeped through with a vengeance.

Or rather, redemption.

Because for some reason, the silhouette urged your mind to remember Jaehyun.

“The utmost beauty of these souls is how neither of them were looking when they found each other.” Insert the moment when Jaehyun emerges to the Bible study room for the first time 3 years ago. With a sinister grin and stance, he managed to lock strong eye contact on you as you were passing out Bibles to the other kids. How unshaken you were, yet so entranced by him.

“From meeting, in comes the unconditional love they’ll build.” The innocent memories of your relationship with Jaehyun when you started seeing each other romantically dance around your brain.

“In that love, they put effort everyday through the small things.” You’ve always liked white roses, while Jaehyun fancied sweet potato chips. Every getaway you both had, you’ve gifted each other with those items.

“In that love, it’s impenetrable to conquer every battle and fight that stampedes there.” If not your last encounter, there was one time you may have succeeded here. You recall defending Jaehyun from your parents at home when he put you trouble and “trouble” after Bible study. How even if he’s the so-called enemy, he’s a good person relearning what’s right from wrong. How he is not his family.

“And in that same love, it makes them feel at home.” Cue all the imaginative, future plans you and Jaehyun drunkenly made if your love story wasn’t an impossible tale. How you’d leave it up to the multiverse, you both giggled.

“So my brothers and sisters, in every story, these two souls here,” The priest naively refers to you and Doyoung. “It’s not a coincidence. The Lord knew what he was doing. He didn’t create a perfect love, but a love only the bride and groom would ever know and feel. Yet it’s a love He created in His likeness and image because He loves His children, and only bless them with eternal happiness with each other.”

In your parents’ eyes, they saw your future with Doyoung.

In your eyes, the future was set with Jaehyun. Wherever you are, all you can think of in every word the priest spoke.

And that future with him is ever so clear and beautiful…

Holy shit.

This wedding must not push through.

“Kim Doyoung and Lee (Y/N) have invited us to share in this celebration as they affirm their love before us, pledge their faith to one another and enter into the joys and privileges of marriage.” So caught up in your reverie, you’re back to standing up and facing Doyoung. The recitation of vows approaches. “If there is anyone present who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Stillness, much to your parents and Doyoung’s delight.

But now, you could care less about what others think. This needs to stop.

This is your life, and you’re reclaiming it as yours.

You need to run far, far away and find him.

Your real love, Jeong Jaehyun.

And to that, you pray within yourself:

“Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby. I'll be usin' for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t do this.” You object boldly, stepping back. “I can’t marry you, Doyoung.”

The audience behind you gasps, the priest and Doyoung especially. “What do you mean, (Y/N)?”

You felt so apologetic for his confusion. “You deserve someone who truly loves you without judgment.”

Your eyes peek over his shoulder to find a woman beside his younger brother Jungwoo quivers at the entire scene. The same woman whom you’ve found out was his first and only love, if not for you asking about her during your first encounter. Yet never did he act on his affections due to the standards of his family, and being the best friend of his brother. He feared of the consequences, but this is no time for fear.

It's time for action. If you’re going to make your move, so should he.

“Fight for your true love. Don’t make them take it away from you.” Your eyes linger momentarily on Doyoung’s real love. “Don’t let them take her away from you, and choose the life where you can be unapologetically and incandescently happy, Doyoung.”

No more words can Doyoung utter towards your plea, but instead lets his daring actions communicate back to you. It was the way his arms looped around her waist, hugging her for dear life. And how she gasped loudly the entire church can hear as she returned his empowering gesture, lacing her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sejeong.” Doyoung whispers a little too loudly. “It’s you. It’s always been you, and will forever be you I love.”

Not a breath wasted, these two lovers rapidly make their exit through an emergency door of the church. Doyoung utters nothing more to his parents, but expresses disgust and anger at how he glares at them. I’m done with your shit, his eyes read. Oh, how his dear mother cries out for him to come back while his father holds her back. Jungwoo, on the other hand, claps at his brother’s impressive move. He didn’t even bother listening to his father who ordered him to chase after him.

“They’ve always been in love with each other. Who are you to tell me to stop them?”

Meanwhile, time is ticking for you. You’ve had your run at playing matchmaker, now you need to return to your lover. One you can hope will take you back after your cowardice pushed him back to the pits of hell, while you crawled back to your seat in heaven. Although tainted you are, nothing but a few prayers and consistent good deeds will gain favor from Him again.

And so you ran. Heels of your heels click clack the marble aisle as you remove your gloves. Your freed fingers grasp on the fabric on your gown to move arther and farther away from the altar. Guests are even more bewildered by your actions, never expecting you to turn out this way.

“Lee (Y/N)!” Only the frantic voice of your mother halts you. Call it a natural reaction when you’ve grown up under her care, her ever so manipulative and overprotective care.

You huff, turning around. “What is it, mother?”

Only a few meters away from you, her hand hurtfully grips your arm. “Ow!”

“You disgust me.” She spits. “How dare you embarrass our family like this?! Have you no conscience?! Why are you acting like a child?!”

You scoff, annoyed. “I think I should be asking you the questions.”

“Excuse me?!”

You yank your arm away from her sharp fingers. Your posture stands a little taller, which is your way to signify confidence. Bravery from her threats.

“All my life, you dictated my every move. You constructed me into this good, religious good girl image so others can stray away from the corruption of our family businesses. You banned me to make my own choices and live my own life because you solely believe that your and father’s choices are the best ones. You taught me misleading ideals and beliefs, urging me to hate others who don’t resonate with me and abandon those who are lower than me. And now, you attempted to sell my freedom for the price of overflowing greed.”

You blurt out every ounce of pain you’ve gained all your life, finally relieving yourself of the burden. If only you could see the proud expressions your older brothers sport from afar, while your younger brothers can admire your courage. You’re finally taking a stand so neither of them would face a situation like this.

“You are lying!” Your mother tries to fight back, even if her lips quiver. Never would she think her only daughter could turn out like this. “That’s a sin, young lady.”

“But nothing as worse as greed, mom. One of the seven deadly sins, like you once taught me.” You smirk.

“Do not dare talk back to your mother!” Your father joins the heated scene. “What happened to you, (Y/N)? How did you turn out like this?”

You laugh, placing a hand on your chest to hold yourself back. “Your sheltered, devious way of parenting me and my brothers led me here. So much for saying we’re a self-proclaimed “God-centered” family when we are far from th--”

Your outburst is dramatically cut off with a stinging slap from your mother. Your legs give out from the impact as your butt lands flat on the marble. The crowd is in a disarray from the sudden commotion, full from all this information. Information that’ll give every journalist and gossip meals for months.

Meanwhile, all your brothers race to your aid. This has gone too far.

“You’re no longer my daughter, but the daughter of Satan himself.” Your mother rages while your palm covers your reddening cheek. You can only yourself back because physical violence shouldn’t be responded with the same thing. And being Satan’s daughter? So be it. It’s better than being the offspring of your parents.

“If not Doyoung, us, or your brothers, who would ever love and accept your lost, pitiful soul?”

“I would.”

A deep voice sends shivers to your figure. Almost like he’s enraged, you swivel your head to the source like everyone else.

It was none other than the silhouette from earlier, emerging from the darkness of the aisle. Except now, he was no regular silhouette. It embodies more sharpness and tidiness, like prestige and power exalts his bones. Almost like a complete redo.

Speaking of which, what your eyes laid upon prior wasn’t a hallucination. The more light from the church and the sun combined shines through, you managed to piece their appearance.

And how stupid you feel not to have pointed it out. The voice alone should’ve knocked some sense of you, because it was none other than--

“Jaehyun.”

The mentioned man continues to strut out, gradually exposing and making himself known to everyone present today. And it’s without a doubt that the gossip from this event alone can feed a whole country, especially with your father seething from his stance.

“Why is there a Jeong in this immaculate event?” He blames. “Have you not learned from your probation and dare barge in my daughter’s wedding?”

“What wedding, sir?” Jaehyun smirks sinisterly, slowly approaching your feeble figure. “It’s more like I witnessed physical and verbal assault against your daughter. In fact, everyone did. Including the Lord himself.”

“I oughtta-” Your father prepares his fist to meet Jaehyun’s face, if not Taeyong’s swift hand catching it.

“Not today, father. And never.” He throws a death glare at his predecessor.

Simultaneously, Jaehyun’s hands reach out for yours. You wobble for a bit when you get up, but you find your balance. His rage and frustration soften into concern at your overwhelmed state, lifting the veil over your head to cradle your weary face.

“Are you okay, my love?” His palm soothes your aching cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you on time.”

“You--” You start to choke on your words. “You’re here. You came back for me.”

“Of course, I did.” He grins genuinely. “I should’ve never left you like that back then. Not when we needed each other the most.”

Before proper words can leave your scattered mind, your father screams like he witnessed a bloody murder.

“What is the meaning of this?! There’s no way this is the man you love, (Y/N)!” He screams, while your mother faints at the sight.

“Surprise, father.” You smile with mischief. “I fell in love with the so-called enemy, and I shall spend the rest of life eternally with him.”

“I object this union!”

“I don’t fucking care.” You curse without remorse. Sparing a loving glance at your man after, “Fuck you, mother, and everything else in this feud. I am done.”

Angrily, your father nearly charges in front of you and Jaehyun. But you’re spared in a flash if not for Taeyong and Mark pulling him back. Jeno and Haechan, on the other hand, hold on to her before she loses her consciousness again. And also avoid her from hurting you.

Ten calls out both your names from the side. Suddenly, a pair of car keys are thrown at your direction. Jaehyun catches them instantly.

“Save your sweet yet vengeful reunion someplace else and run! Now!”

You’ve completely forgotten how public this wedding was as every person spectate how you take hold of Jaehyun’s hand, leading you to a more private exit of the church. Taking the main doors will spark a frenzy by the paparazzi, and that’s the last thing you need on your agenda.

Now in the parking lot in the back, Jaehyun’s fingers from his free hand click the buttons of Ten’s car keys, One of the cars activates in perfect condition, lights flicking and beeping sonorously. And thank God, it’s right in front of you.

“Motherfucker, it’s a Ferrari.” Jaehyun marvels.

“Jaehyun, we gotta go!” You rush inside the shotgun, conscious of who may find the both of you.

It’s not a surprise that the journalists got ahold of your speeding departure since you have to drive out in front of the church to get away from it. Even if Ten’s windows were tinted so no one can detect who was inside, the guests finally vacated from the building and told their own versions of what unfolded in the supposed Kim-Lee union.

And while the news are brewing and buzzing, you and Jaehyun have absolutely no idea where to drive off to.

“That was insane!” You burst out. The adrenaline rush of it all still raced your veins, while Jaehyun’s attention is firm at the road ahead of him. “I never felt or done anything like this!”

He chuckles as his fingers retract to your hand again, lifting it to kiss the top. “You’ve turned into a bad girl, baby. What are we gonna do about that?”

“Would living a new, happier life for ourselves be the best way to avenge everything they’ve done to us?” You suggest. “I know we’ve been through a lot, but I was no better for letting you walk out like that without a proper fight for our love.”

Jaehyun sighs from the painful memory. “And I understood why you did. I had no right to pressure you into something so drastic when your family has already stressed you out enough.”

“But still!” You acclaim. “You’ve always fought for us, so I should’ve done the same before all of this happened.”

“So, you must truly love me.” Jaehyun attempts to lighten up the mood. Reaching a red light, he tilts his body to face you. Even after being chased down, he remains ever ethereal as beads of sweat rest on his brows and his once-perfectly done hair is crazily tousled.

“If I didn’t, I would’ve never caused a scene especially with God watching us.” You lean a little closer to him, resting both of your hands on his shoulders. If not for the car handle blocking you, you’d be sitting on his lap. “Because He sent you to me as a blessing. Not a curse from the devil, but a blessing who taught me to be brave and never take anyone’s shit.”

“Cursing like this still feels so new to me, baby.” The glimmer in his eyes darken with desire, moving closer to your lips.

“Better get used to it, sweetheart.” Merely inches left, your lips teasingly brush his. “It’s you and me until the end of the time.”

The confidence of your tone was met with the element of surprise when Jaehyun’s lips finally planted on yours. Your sultry yet romantic-filled words put all his senses of haywire, as if you bewitched him with your everlasting charms. Your lips curve into a smile as they part so his tongue can slide in. The taste of his favorite mint candy mellow your nerves down, easing you back to a calmer state of mind.

How you missed his touch.

How you missed his presence.

How you missed him, and everything that goes along with it.

As passionate as your affections are at the moment, it’s only to be interrupted by the loud, irritated honks from the vehicles behind you.

The red light has now turned green.

The two of you can only laugh in embarrassment, like two horny teenagers caught by their headmasters. Yet the youthful energy you both radiate remains. Jaehyun holds your hand again before stepping on the engine, rubbing the sides of your thumb.

“Oh, baby. I’d be more than glad to be sinfully vowed to you.”

5 YEARS LATER.

Jeong Estates and Co. secured the highest rank of top real estate companies within Seoul.

This wouldn’t be made possible if not for Krystal Jeong, second in line at the Jeong family business. One of the Jeong cousins rather. No bitter feelings she felt on getting the job. In fact, she’s more than ecstatic to acclaim the highest position in their clan. As for Sungchan, he just entered law school in high hopes of taking over his mother’s law firm. But only years after taking the bar exam then starting for the bottom up. Often times, he secretly gives his older brother a call on his burner phone or vice versa. No matter what, they are still brothers. Heck, highly urged him to chase after you when he found out the truth behind his older brother’s love for you.

Lee Properties, the real estate company of Lee Corporation, are more focused on expanding their branches across the world. Ranking no longer mattered, as long as the quality of their work constantly. Mark, under the guidance of Taeyong and Ten in the beginning, took over the company. Thanks to the three, they branched out to the US, UK, and Japan. Family-wise, the 5 brothers isolated themselves from their parents since that day. Everything has become business for them. Because they refuse to be associated with people responsible for the almost-downfall of their only sister.

The general feud between families remain unsolved, even after the mayhem of the failed wedding. Although there have been are rumors circulating that the brothers of each family made amends, but nothing has been confirmed. The tension intensified, and no dares to get in their loop.

People who work in media make sure to never put them in the same room for interviews or events. People working in their companies dare not to speak of the enemy company. Anyone who’s within the presence of any family member can only bow their head and pray they don’t get called out.

Most of all, everyone goes silent of the forbidden romance built between their each of their children.

That’s the thing with the Lees and Jeongs: they’re old-money royalty with filthy history. If you get in their way, might as well say goodbye to everything you worked hard for.

That’s how powerful they are.

Yet only two people defied all the odds.

Speaking of them, where do you and Jaehyun stand?

“I’m home!” Jaehyun greets loudly as he opens the door. He drops off his satchel of tools by the doorstep, removing his dirty loafers and switching to house slippers.

“In the kitchen!” You respond. Just in time for dinner, you love how prompt he is.

From behind, warm yet sweaty arms wrap around your waist. He must’ve had a long day, especially when he was gone the moment you woke up. But it’s not much of a worry since you also had a early start that day.

“Smells good here.” Jaehyun’s chin tucks on your shoulder. “What are we having tonight?”

“Homemade ravioli as a gift from Francesca next door,” You continue stirring the aromatic pan. “With tomato sauce made by me.”

“Delicious.” He sniffs. “I missed you.”

You giggle from his short kiss on your cheek. “I missed you too, but you reek off sweat.”

“When am I not?” He teases. “Gotta earn to maintain this roof on top of our heads.”

“Keep that habit up, or someone else here might make me vomit like last time.” Your free hand lowers his hands to the bump of your swelling stomach. Perhaps only now did you believe that there is one when it used to be slightly flatter.

“Speaking of which,” He rubs it gently. “How’s she today? No trouble?”

“Thankfully, no.” You turn the stove off, satisfied with the finished dish. Turning around, your hands situate themselves on your lower back. A new habit since your body has been adjusting to all these new changes. “I’m confident the nausea is subsiding, but now my feet hurt like crazy.”

“My love,” Jaehyun coos, caging you in his arms. “How about I take a quick shower, enjoy this meal you made, then give you a foot massage?”

“Oh yes, that sounds divine.” You hum, pecking his lips. “Now get off me. You seriously stink as fuck.”

So much for your mood swings, Jaehyun chuckles as he makes his way to the bathroom of your master bedroom. You roll your eyes st the playful man while you prepare the dining table. Yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Life ever since that crazy day became more peaceful and joyful. Freeing to retake the control you have over your life, whilst sharing it with the man you truly love.

For a couple of months, you and Jaehyun resided in a private cottage somewhere deep in Jeju Island. Only he knew of its existence because he himself built it from the ground up. Formerly in the real estate, he’s always had an interest for architecture. But instead of picking that major in college (because his parents were against it), he studied elsewhere with his own money. It clearly paid off as it gave the two of you the perfect hideaway from all the drama.

And led the most memorable of nights in your shared bedroom, especially you finally confessed your deepest desire of him fully taking your purity away. Sure, virginity is a social construct but you trusted Jaehyun with your life. After everything you’ve been through together, how can you not?

One kiss is all it took before he had you squirming and moaning on his cock, thrusting and hitting your sweet spots. His words of praise in every movement led you one step closer to heave. You see, heaven wasn’t just a place you go to when you die in good spirits. But it can be through a person.

And his name was Jeong Jaehyun.

Physically, your body turned sore the following day. But emotionally, you’re thrilled. He took good care of you like the passionate lover he is, but that’s bare minimum. We shouldn’t celebrate those things, though there’s something unique about it when Jaehyun carrying you to a warm tub and feeding you your favorite homemade meals that very day. To make up for hitting it too hard, he egotistically claims.

But can you blame him?

Exactly.

Later on, the two of you permanently migrated to the countryside area of Italy. Having loved the quiet side of Jeju Island whilst craving a new adventure, Europe took an interest to the both of you. Italy became your top choice if not for having individual traveling experiences there. And how you equally enjoyed its culture and aura.

Thus, you wanted to create more memories together and start anew. And by that, you and him rented an apartment within Tuscany and worked different jobs from your university majors.

From being a business management major, you became an English teacher at the local elementary school. You enjoyed taking care of children, teaching them all new things and encouraging them to be their best selves. There are also times you walk some of them home if their parents cannot fetch them. Holding your hand so they avoid any cars passing by, your heart is full when they obey and tell you all sorts of imaginative tales. You adore their curiosity, and you always make sure to be the best role model you can be.

From majoring in finance, Jaehyun ventured into construction and architecture. He was always hands on, conceptualizing and building all sorts of things for other people’s needs. It’s a plus that he’s always followed an active lifestyle, his muscles making it easier to bring those things to different destinations. The big boss of the business he works for can rely him on him big time, saving money on gas for the moving truck. So it’s no surprises girls attempt to throw themselves at him for his looks and strength. But it’s nothing you worry about.

Because at the end of the day, it’s still you he comes home to you. And makes you come until all the stars of the universe are within your periphery.

With all the money you both earn (and pawning your unnecessary designer items), it eventually becomes enough for two things: building a new house and your wedding.

There’s a piece of land Jaehyun’s boss gifted him as gratitude for expanding his business, which is near one of his beloved vineyards. Since that day, Jaehyun devoted time and effort to build your dream home. With some help with friends he made from work.

It meant sacrificing alone time with him, which did strike an argument or two. But it’s nothing too big you couldn’t resolve. Because you’re both sure that his efforts are going to be worth it.

And how beautiful the final output was. Modern with a rustic feel, there were 3 floors to your entire home. With a patio, there’s also a garden of various flowers and crops you and Jaehyun planted during the construction process. And now, they’re finally coming in full bloom this time around. After that, you can see the various vineyards which trails to the best view of the sunset.

Quite the villa, you two have. It has everyone in town wanting to take a visit whenever they can and how inviting you’d be to all of them for special occasions.

Upon tradition, the whole home was blessed by the priest before you fully moved in. And boy, nothing could hold you back from running through every furnished floor, only to hold and kiss your man for a job well done. But the mood became heated as his hands cup your butt and lifted you up as he lead you to your master bedroom.

Your wedding came shortly after. It was held at a small chapel within Tuscany, with locals you’ve befriended over time, your brothers, and Sungchan.

Yes, they accepted your private invitations and made sure not to disclose this event to anyone back home. Most especially, both of your parents.

You and Jaehyun feared your brothers wouldn’t get along the slightest. Initially, there was tension when you invited them to dinner at your new home. Mark, Haechan, and Ten inspected with Sungchan with suspicion, while the younger boy returns the judgmental loo. Jeno and Taeyong, on the other hand, fell silent as they didn’t want to utter a word at him.

Accepting Jaehyun took a while, so what more with Sungchan? He was outnumbered by your 5 prideful brothers, and based on the tales of your then fiancé, he was a good boy.

“Yah.” It was your sharp voice that cuts the tense air, which was a new experience for everyone. In fact, they’re all getting used to your newfound voice that’ll slice and dice anyone that disrespects you. “If you are all going to act like children, we’ll turn out m like our parents and those before. We’ll never end our feud, and hurt more people we love.”

“Whatever problems you have with each other, sort that shit out right now. Or we can kick you out, where the nearest motel is 4 hours away.”

So yes, you may have threatened them. But it does spark change within both families, especially when Jeno opened up about his interest for the law firm under Lee Corporation. He was in 2nd year of law school that time.

Instead of thinking as competition, Sungchan started up about his life as a freshman because it turns out that they’re studying in same school. Eventually, Mark and Taeyong came around to talk about their hobbies. And as for Haechan and Ten, they were responsible for filling up everyone’s wine glasses until everyone passed out in the living room.

You’re merely lucky how the wedding was still a week and a half away. But mostly, new friendships were made and you’re certain this will cause a major shift in the feud.

And finally, as you and Jaehyun said “I do” and sealed a kiss in front of your loved ones, off to your honeymoon you go. Funded by Taeyong and Ten (which you failed to reject out of embarrassment), you and Jaehyun went to your favorite Italian city: Milan. The both of you spent all the cash they gave to your heart’s content after putting them into your home and wedding, exploring the designer stores and shops of the locals.

With the former, it made you reminisce your younger self. The one who was so naïve to everything while she threw the money from mommy and daddy’s credit cards on bags and clothes. But now, designer items are just items with an esteemed name. Their worth is nothing compared to the culture of the locals back in Tuscany, and the love you continue to grow with Jaehyun.

It’s no wonder that over time, that same love eventually created something magical.

And it came in the form of your unborn child that you fiercely carry. It’s only like yesterday when you and Jaehyun anticipated in your bedroom for the tests you took. This came to be after your period not arriving, the weird food combinations you consume, and your mood swings being out of this world. Or that’s at least what Jaehyun shared, but he can be quite overdramatic at times.

As we return to the present time, you caress your hard tummy that holds so much life. How you feel the smallest flutter of your daughter as she continues to grow or the first time you heard her heart beat in the monitor. It still makes your heart soar when the doctor confirmed the gender of your baby. In a world of boys, another girl just like you made you feel complete. With Jaehyun, he’d have a little girl he can take to all sorts of adventures and dance around with.

Heck, he already made the crib from scratch from his excitement and cleared out one of your guest rooms for the baby. If that doesn’t soften your heart, you didn’t know what will. He’s always had a fondness for kids, especially with your profession. And now, the both of you shall have your own to take care and love.

5 months down, 4 more to go.

You lay on your back on the couch, resting your head by the edge. Your fingers skim through an open book as Jaehyun’s hands work their magic to relieve the constant ache of your feet.

“What matters most are the simple pleasures so abundant that we can all enjoy them...” You read aloud the text of your precious novel. The baby enjoyed being read to, whether it be from your or Jaehyun. Meanwhile, the mentioned man listens along as it is one of his childhood favorites. “Happiness doesn’t lie in the objects we gather around us. To find it, all we need to do is open our ey-”

A strong set of kicks to your gut interrupts your reading, a loud groan leaving your lips. Jaehyun’s alert to help you out, clutching on your stomach as you try to sit upright.

“What happened?” Jaehyun chides. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“She…” Your eyes begin to well up. “She’s kicking for the first time.”

The baby wildly makes her presence known as she remains persistent in her actions. Stunned, your hands find Jaehyun’s and place them on your stomach. This has never happened to either you, and both of you wanted to treasure the moment.

Your husband keeps quiet upon his amazement in feeling his small feet of his baby girl. He smiles, changing his hand positions to find her in your womb. It’s almost like you’re raising 2 kids.

“That tickles, Jae!” You squeal, readjusting your stance. Back pain is becoming a bitch lately.

“Does it hurt?” His hands stay put in one spot near your belly button, where your daughter enjoyed to play around the most.

You give a tight-lipped smile. “Not really, but now it’s a bit bothersome.”

“Oh no…” He says with worry, head leaning near your tummy to speak to your daughter. “Baby, don’t hurt your mommy. She makes sure you’re strong and well, so be nice, okay?”

You gush from his words. Your mind is elated to create future scenarios of their father-daughter bonding, something you wish you had more of when you were younger. But you know your husband, the family guy he’s become. Because you both made an oath to never become your parents, to be better and wiser.

Finally, the kicks weakened and felt your daughter rest on one corner of your tummy. By this time, she’s fallen asleep. And by her actions, it exhausted you as well as her unofficial punching bag. Jaehyun, who was bound to resume his massaging, catches you yawn and stretch your arms out.

“Tired?” He asks, and you nod.

“I think I’ll continue reading the book tomorrow.” You close your beloved copy of the Little Prince, and pull your feet off from your husband’s lap.

“Wait.” He stops you, standing up before you do.

You quirk a brow. “Yes, babe?”

“There’s no way you’re walking up the stairs with sore feet.” Suddenly, he lifts you off the couch as he carries you bridal style. You shriek with shock, but not loud enough to disturb your baby.

“Jaehyun! Put me down!” He shakes his head. “Am I not heavy? I’m carrying your child after all.”

“Nothing will be heavy enough when it comes to you and our baby.” He reassures. “Now, let’s get both of you to bed, hmm?”

Refusing his advances would be an endless fight, so you concede the moment you nuzzle your head on his chest. Fresh laundry, his scent fills your nostrils. You loved the warmth when he’s close to you like this, nearly dozing off when he walks up the stairs. He was your home, and you don’t ever want to leave him.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is enamored by you each passing day. He witnessed all your good and bad times, the latter especially as they eventually led to the better days of your shared life. He didn’t want to admit how afraid he was when you two eloped from everyone, but you’ve always known. He didn’t have to tell you because you put in your own efforts to make him feel at bay. That it’s okay to feel vulnerable, that it’s okay to take risks. Because you were both in this together, that’s in the vows you unofficially said back in Jeju Island and reiterated in your actual wedding.

Another thing Jaehyun loved about you was this endless glow when you’re passionate about your job at the school, stand up for yourself, and express true joy from the small, finer things in life. But there came a unique kind glow you embodied since you told him the news of your pregnancy.

It was a major step in any loving relationship, and if there’s anyone he’d experience it with, he’s blessed that it’s with you. Like he once said when you were younger, you are God’s favorite angel.

When he gently lays you down on your side of the bed, catching how your eyelids effortlessly fell down, he kisses your forehead. “Good night, angel.”

As he rests on the opposite side, your hand finds his chest.

“Jae.”

Surprised, he moves to face your side. Your lids may be droopy, but you had extra strength to carress his cheek with the same hand. Under the moonlight from your balcony doors, he looked effortlessly beautiful. Even with some greying hairs on his nape, wrinkles forming in his forehead, and eyebags darkening from his restless nights, your heart is full of love for him. Whether it’s from your hormones acting up or not, that’s never going to change.

He's a representation of your bravery, and how glad you are to take on the challenge to push for your love.

Because in the end, it all worked out like you both wanted.

“Hmm, baby?” His hand cup yours.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You place his other hand on your tummy again. “On us.”

“Thank you for fighting for our love, for showing those who doubted us that it has a place in our world.” Jaehyun shares an endearing smile, paving a way for his remarkable dimples. Some things don’t age, like your youthful souls. Ever so daring and adventurous, parenthood doesn’t sound like such a bad idea if it’s two of you embarking on it together.

“Even if it almost earned a punch from my dad?” The once-frightening memory earns a chuckle from both your lips. Little did your younger selves know what they’d face after.

“What can I say? I meant every word I say then, to be put in his place.” He defends. “And you know what else I meant that day?”

“Enlighten me.”

Oh, you can only feel real happiness and gratitude for the man in front of you. He is a man of his word, and proved endlessly with his actions. And he shall continue to do so for the rest of your lives.

“I’d be more than glad to be sinfully vowed to you, (Y/N). Forever and always.”

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