#just two more short chapters and that's it!

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Character death and canon typical violence/graphic descriptions.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was the sound and smell that really got to you. The crackle of bones snapping and the stretching of skin and the slick squelch of new flesh as it grew into place. The scent of burning curtains and couch stuffing and meat so thick in the air Emerie could only lean over and vomit into the fireplace. 

Through the smoke and the haze you saw barbs sprout from Vassa’s skin like needles before splitting down the middle to reveal sickly red feathers. Putrid flowers crawling their way through the dirt. 

She fell to the ground, convulsing with pain and anguish as she transformed.  

“VASSA!” Lucien roared. He threw his arm over his face, magic bursting forth in a protective shield around you and Azriel. His russet eyes reflected the flames that licked at his skin and hair, fighting and absorbing the power that flashed throughout the room. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Feyre use her own spark of Autumn’s magic. The flames took on the shape of wolves and threw themselves over Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, and Elain in a protective huddle. 

Vassa’s screams thinned out into one long screech and the beating of her wings sent another wave of heat through the room.

Azriel pressed you further against the ground as she took off, flying so close overhead that the sweat frying your skin evaporated and the tips of Azriel’s hair singed off. 

Cassian swore, drawing out the short sword he always kept on him as he shielded Ione’s body from the worst of the initial blast, wings out and glaring siphon red in the shape of shield.

Vassa sank her claws into his back, latching onto leather armour and ripping him off the old woman. Her wings took up the length of the room, trailing ribbons of blue and scarlet fire as she finally descended on her prize. 

Ione was no stranger to death. She did not fear it as some might have expected her to. She’d seen friends and family ruthlessly murdered. Experienced loss of a kind that the fae could not comprehend with their long lives. Maybe that was the reason she fought so little when Vassa’s talons closed over her arms and lifted her into the air. 

Rhysand roared, night triumphant rumbling over the floors like an earthquake as darkness spilled from his hands.

But he was too late. 

Vassa crashed through the window with Ione in tow. Glass and fragments of the supporting wall crumbled down in a chorus of cries that tore through your spine as shadows swarmed overhead. Reaching, reaching, reaching after the firebird and the woman she carried higher and higher up into the sky. 

Cassian rolled to his feet, leaping after them with a furious beat of his wings that sent shards of glass skittering over the floor and dust flying into your eyes. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, hauling you up with him. You dragged your nails over his arms, blinking through smoke-filled eyes as you coughed. 

All around you the House was burning. 

“Are you ok?!” He shook you, hands coming up to your face. He was split between two choices — stay with you, or go get Ione. 

“Go. Go! I’m fine,” you rasped, lifting your sleeve up to your nose and mouth as your eyes streamed with tears. Azriel hesitated, hearing your hacking coughs even as you pushed him towards the gaping wound of the House. Cassian continued to shrink into the distance, red light searing past Vassa’s feathers as she desperately dodged his attacks. 

He wouldn’t go for a killing blow. Not when she was carrying such precious cargo. 

“Just go! If Koschei gets his hands on Ione, we’re all dead!” You erupted in another fit of coughs.

Fuck.

“Stay with Lucien,” Azriel said.

“Yes, yes. Now go!” You gave him one final shove.

Azriel swore beneath his breath, turned, and raced towards the window with his wings ready to unfurl before disappearing in a flurry of smoke. 

Misunderstanding — that was what made Shadowsingers so dangerous. Not their silence. Not the tendrils of darkness they commanded, but how little anyone knew of them and where they came from.

Illyrians, by nature, couldn’t winnow. It was one of the simple, unexplainable facts of their world. As immutable as gravity. As intrinsic as the magic that flowed through their land like a bottomless sea. And despite all the rules Azriel had broken, and would break, in his life — all the contradictions he flirted with like it was a game — he was, first and foremost, an Illyrian.

He did not winnow. 

Winnowing was simple.

Winnowing happened when you folded the fabric of the world in half like a piece of paper and stretched that fabric thin enough to pass through. It was instantaneous. One moment you had both feet planted in one place, the next moment in another. 

What Azriel did was wholly different. 

Because when he “winnowed,” he actually went somewhere else first. 

When he was running away from you, he was moving towards an opening only he could see. A black, flickering spot that grew and grew and grew until it swallowed him whole and he felt himself fall into a different realm. 

The sounds of shouting and feet trampling over glass disappeared with a whisper and he dove into the silence, feeling shadows slip over him like water. 

When he’d first shadow-traveled, it had been an accident. He’d been young and desperate to escape the cramped confines of his bed in the Windhaven barracks. He would never miss his time spent in the cellar, but at least there it had been quiet. At least there he could commune with his shadows in private. Accommodations in the Windhaven barracks were a poor imitation of horse stables — tiny bedrooms lined up with just enough space for growing wings and walls that didn’t reach the ceiling. Boys would peer over the walls at him like an animal on display, throwing food and boasting their strong wings while his lay on the floor like crumpled paper. 

To this day he didn’t quite know where he went when he shadow-traveled. All he knew was that in this world of black sand, cracked rock, and perpetual music, beings roamed free that answered to him and only him. Creatures both same and different to the shadows he commanded in Prythian. They crowded around him, welcoming him home and blocking out the background hums of someone’s sweet singing as the light of three moons cast their silvery net over the Shadowsinger.

The plan is working.

Why have you left her behind? 

The firebird is nearing the edges of your borders. 

Your mate is safe. She remains by her brother’s side.

He listened to their reports, gliding through the still air and watching as a familiar light opened up ahead of him. A fourth moon that wasn’t a moon at all, but a light back home. Through the opening he saw a blue sky raked with fire as Vassa turned onto her back, careening through the air like a firework and opening her mouth wide. 

She’s endowed with new powers. Be cautious, Shadowsinger.

Your brother is on your left. 

What had felt like minutes flying through this darkness vanished into nothing. The time he’d spent in this realm never passed on Prythian. To anyone watching him, they’d think he disappeared from the House and reappeared here, hundreds of feet above the earth.

But things were better this way. When he traveled with his shadows, he had time to gather his thoughts and anticipate the fight ahead.

Quick! Get the warlord.

And he had help.

NOW!

Azriel shattered the boundaries of the world in an explosion of shadow, careening into Cassian’s side and knocking him off course just as Vassa spit out a ball of flame. Azriel heard Cassian’s shout in his ear as they tumbled through the air together in a tangle of wings. He felt the heat that had come close to scorching his back.

I am not that little boy. Not anymore. Azriel promised himself

The warlord grasped the harness hidden in the back of Azriel’s armor just between the shoulder blades, using the momentum of their fall to throw him back towards Vassa. 

The Sidra glowed beneath him, the mouth of the river stretching wide as it prepared to feed the sea. Another mile, and the protections surrounding Velaris would fall away. Who knew what would happen to Ione and Vassa then? 

Azriel saw the distance between them narrow. Vassa’s body could only be propped up by so much magic. Feathers continued to strip themselves from her body, curling inwards as they fell like paper left too close to a flame. 

Ione flailed in Vassa’s clutches, iron cane still held tightly in her hand as she twisted and turned at the mercy of Vassa’s frantic flight maneuvers. 

The firebird squawked in panic when she felt the first cold licks of Azriel’s shadows creep up her wings. They hissed and smarted upon first contact with her fiery feathers, before eating away at her magic like ravenous beasts. 

But she also understood hunger. It was hunger that had driven her to take Ione. It was hunger that had forced her to turn. Hunger for the kind of magic that only Koschei could grant her when she was back in his malignant embrace.

To Azriel’s horror, Vassa twisted in the air and flung Ione down with a shriek. 

The old woman’s face twisted in shock, her scream choked by wind as her stomach flew into her throat and the burning pressure in her arms gave way to freefall. 

Azriel didn’t hesitate. He dove down, reaching out with two scarred hands.

For one brief moment they were falling together. 

Ione saw the firebird change direction and aim right at Azriel, slipping into the blindspots of his vision. Ione looked him dead in the eye and gave the faintest nod. 

Azriel tucked his wings in close and veered off course at the last second, rolling with the impact of Vassa’s wing slamming into his side and feeling the burn when his leathers caught fire.

Somewhere in the wind, Cassian roared. 

Vassa caught Ione and fled beyond the borders of Velaris.

And Azriel fell.

And fell. 

And fell.

A comet.

And disappeared into the ocean. 

Feyre stood in the center of the House, hands raised and eyes alight as fires leapt up the walls and swallowed the curtains. With one fell swoosh they vanished, wind rushing in through the battered side of the House and sweeping away the ash and smoke until the air tasted clean again.

She raised a trembling hand and with one decisive snap of her fingers the worst of the damage vanished, leaving behind the skeletal remains of their once lovely living room. 

“Mor.” The High Lady rasped. 

The blonde female stood to attention, cheeks stained grey, and brown eyes flaring with rage. People liked to think she was just a pretty face — a diplomat or a soothing presence. But right now, she was out for blood and she could smell it coming in the air. 

“Go tell Helion and the others. We meet at Thesan’s as planned.” 

Mor nodded and grabbed Emerie’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze as the Illyrian shook off the worst of her sickness. Her stomach, now empty, twisted. Mor kissed Emerie’s dark hair, whispering promises that they’d see each other again soon. Then it was only a matter of folding the universe in half and stepping into Helion’s palace to the sight of two dozen golden warriors. 

Emerie blinked and her wife was gone.

Rhys stood by the staircase with Gwyn, touching the crown of her head and showing her his most treasured prize. Beneath the fabric of her priestess robes, a new bargain tattoo was being written onto the skin of her ribs. Until their parents’ safe return, Gwyn would protect Nyx and Velaria with her life. No force, natural or otherwise, would keep her from her goal, and those that sought to harm her charges would meet their end on her blade. 

In the privacy of her room she donned the armour of the Valkyries and knelt down at the small altar carved into the wall. She touched the smooth white stone at the center and prayed to the Mother for strength and protection and health. She lit a red candle and dripped the wax onto the blade of her sword and polished it clean, reciting her prayers beneath her breath. 

What seeks to break me will fail. I am a protector. I have always been a protector. And that is what I will always be. It is written in my blood and in my bones, but where I was strong in my spirit, I am now strong in my body.

She stood with her sword in her hands.

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

Tucked away in a cabin in the Illyrian Steppes, Nyx stood in front of his wooden soldier, practice sword clutched in his hand as he danced around the immobile warrior with a crease in his brow identical to Feyre’s. Every so often he would look over his shoulder at the female sitting on the floor, searching her silver eyes for that hint of pride she hid so well. 

Velaria lay in the crook of her arm, soft fingers tangled in the layers of gold and jewels that hung heavy from her slim, straight neck. Her eyes narrowed as she saw beyond the confines of the cabin into Rhysand’s mind. 

It’s happened hasn’t it? She asked knowingly. 

Yes.

And which one will you be sending to the children and I, boy?

Gwyn.

A good choice. I like that one.

Rhysand smiled tightly, feeling that knot in his chest loosen. No matter what happened, his children would be protected. They’d survive. 

As if sensing what the High Lord needed, Amren looked down at the child swaddled in her arms, allowing Rhysand the relief of seeing his children even if he couldn’t be there to hold them himself. 

Nyx, ever the precocious child, stopped his play-fighting and looked towards his aunt. 

He was still young but greatness hovered over his shoulder like a vulture ready to descend upon his innocence the moment he came of age. It frightened Rhysand to no end. 

Please, keep them safe.

Amren’s mind flickered with something like indignation and she clutched Velaria closer to her chest. It wasn’t maternal instinct that drove her, but something else. Something more feral and possessive. 

I have protected you and your family for centuries. I have killed for you and I died for you when I had far more to lose than just this mortal body. Do you truly believe I will fail you now?

No, Amren. No I do not. 

You raced up the steps after Lucien, smoke settling into your lungs as you wheezed and tried keeping up with his long, frantic strides. Vassa’s bloody footprints and a trail of burnt blue-orange feathers marked her descent. 

“JURIAN!” 

Lucien called his friend’s name the whole way up, praying to the gods that he’d hear a response. The air cleared the higher you went through the House until finally you stood at the base of the attic steps. 

The door stared down from above. Neatly closed. Unassuming. Vassa had shut it calmly before walking down. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to look at the scene she’d left behind. 

Lucien burst through the silent, unblinking door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The first thing you saw from around his shoulder was the mangled remnants of the birdcage. Its side had been ripped open like ribs, cushion stuffing and blanket fragments spewing out. Claw marks decorated the walls and you detected the cling of iron in the air through your burning nostrils.

“Lucien?” Your voice shook.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move past the edges of the room. 

When you went to move around his frame, he gripped your arm and covered the way. 

Jurian’s body lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling in a neat circle around him like he’d been blotted out with a red pen. His right arm was in tatters and three long gashes split him from the temple to his hip. His pearly white winked cruelly. The hazy afternoon sun settled on the dust in the air. 

He must have gotten too close to Vassa not realizing that she was too far gone for even him to help. Maybe she’d done it intentionally as a means of escape, thinking that Jurian was her jailor. But maybe it had all been an accident. The wrong turn of her talons as the pain of her transformation took over. 

The method did not matter. Nor did the reason. 

Because Jurian was dead. 

Lucien crumbled to his knees, sinking into the carpet and feeling nothing and you…

It took everything within you not to scream. You pressed down on the feeling. Down. Down. Down. Burying it deep beneath layers of willpower and practice. 

You walked over to the windows, feeling hatred at the sun for shining down with its yellow light, and ripped the curtains off their rings with a metallic clang. 

Jurian looked up at the ceiling with glistening eyes. Somehow, even in death, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face — proud, mischievous, and a little wild. A sign of the charismatic general he’d been by Vassa’s side and long before then. You covered that smile carefully, ignoring the squelch of your shoes when you stepped into the circle of blood. 

Something in Lucien cracked open when the curtain fell into place.

He finally screamed. Hands and knees braced on the floor. Face twisted in pain. 

You clapped your hands over your ears, tears streaming down your cheeks as you willed the sound to stop. 

“Lucien—” Elain skidded to halt at the doorway, the mass of pink fabric around her waist swishing once then falling still. She looked at the outline of Jurian. She looked at you. Then she fell to her knees, pulling Lucien’s body into her lap and whispering his name. The initial silence stretching across the bond had terrified her. Hearing him scream and the heartbreak that followed after had sent her running. 

Lucien collapsed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the flesh of her stomach. She cradled his head in one arm, the other splayed over his back as he wept.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped through her own tears. “I’m so so sorry, Lucien.”

He cried. 

And cried. 

And cried. 

You and Elain heard the shouting from downstairs as a collection of Cassian’s most trusted Valkyries and Illyrian warriors assembled on the lawn. Emerie stood among them, her seconds helping to tie the leather straps of her armour into place as she barked orders left and right. 

Elain looked towards you. The fight to come left no time for grief. Not even Lucien was exempt from that. 

You moved in front of your brother, blocking the sight of the curtains on the floor.

“Lucien,” you begged. Your brother’s bloodshot eye looked at you from the crook of Elain’s arm. “We need to get ready. We need to go.” 

“I can’t… I can’t just leave him. I can’t leave him to rot in this room. I can’t—” 

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain promised. She looked down at her mate. “You can trust me with him, Lucien.” 

He said nothing, but together you and Elain helped him up to his feet, and Elain — beautiful, lovely Elain — stood on the tips of her feet to kiss her mate’s tear-stained cheek. She tasted the salt on her tongue and felt the burning of unshed tears in her own eyes. 

“I’ll bury him somewhere calm in a bed of marigold and poppy.” Fiery, resilient flowers to remind Jurian of the woman he had loved. “And when you and Vassa return we will have a proper goodbye. I promise.”

He took a deep, trembling breath and whispered, “Thank you, Elain.” 

You let him lean against you, let him bury his face in your hair to escape the smell of blood and death, and walked with him downstairs. 

After you and Lucien were gone and Elain stood alone in the presence of the dead, she rolled up her pale pink sleeves, tied off the length of her dress and prepared for a new garden. 

Azriel was soaking wet and aching as he flew up to the House of Wind. Salt stripped his hair of moisture and the strands dried hard and tacky against his scalp. 

“Did you need to make such a dramatic exit?” Cassian snapped when they landed on the balcony. “I thought she’d killed you.”

Azriel moved through the House without even looking, charred leather flaking off his shoulders and floating to the ground as he walked. His wings were sore and tender from the heat, along with his ribs and shoulder from when Vassa had first barreled into him and then when he’d landed in the Sidra. 

“We needed to make it look real, remember?” Azriel answered smoothly.

It had always been part of the plan to let Vassa take Ione if she attempted it, but they couldn’t let her go without a fight or Koschei would find it suspicious. Even so, Azriel hated to admit that he’d been distracted thinking about you. If he’d been any slower today he might have lost his wings. 

“Well you did your job too well.” Cassian growled. 

Azriel dipped into his room, quickly stripping out of his clothes and donning new leathers before he and Cassian set off once again deep into the mountain.

They stopped in front of a grey wood door, and Azriel knocked twice. Paused. Knocked thrice. Paused. Then knocked twelve times. 

Ione — the real Ione — opened the door.

Feyre had inherited many gifts from the seven High Lords of Prythian — her healing touch, her water wolves, her mastery over flame and light and dark. But one of her least used gifts had been glamouring people from her Court… until now.

It had taken her half a dozen portraits to familiarize herself with every subtle valley and curve of Ione’s face, and double the number of attempts before she’d successfully woven Nesta’s features into a perfect copy. You’d swooped in for the final steps, using your knowledge and magic to dampen Nesta’s magical signature until even Cassian couldn’t tell when it was Nesta or Ione standing in front of him without relying on the mating bond.

“Has it happened?” The old woman asked gravely, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders.

Azriel nodded. “Vassa took the bait.” 

As they spoke, the mortal queen was carrying a disguised Nesta to the Continent where she’d be a hidden weapon in enemy territory. Koschei wouldn’t even know he’d been delivered the wrong prize. 

At least that was the hope.

They brought Ione down to the House, and Azriel forced the woman into a brisk walk, weaving through the small collection of fae in search of you. You stood by Feyre and Rhysand close to the river, one arm kept tight around Lucien’s and a new satchel slung over your back. You kept glancing over at your brother, watching as he did what he could to compose himself. 

“Y/n.” 

One small word spoken from his lips and your eyes were latching onto him. There was a question in his eyes as he looked first at your pale face, and then at Lucien. The trembling of your hands and the shake of your head was all he needed. 

Jurian was gone. 

Azriel swallowed, stopping in front of the male he’d once hated so unfairly and feeling shame. “Lucien, I’m so—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll rip your tongue out,” Lucien seethed, his eyes flat and hard as stone. The despair had given away to fury before Jurian’s body was even cold and suddenly Lucien was itching to be on the Continent. To feel Koschei’s blood on his hands. 

It wasn’t too late to save Vassa. It wasn’t too late to get his friend back. 

“You can feel pity for me when this is over.” 

There were only a dozen fae crowded around Feyre and Rhysand, but you could feel every wave of power that rippled off their skin, the electricity they shot into the air as they bounced on the pads of their feet and loosened their muscles. 

You found yourself pressed between Azriel and Lucien, the Shadowsinger’s hand balanced on the small of your back. Ione stood in front of you, your hand laid protectively on her shoulder, and a Valkyrie stood behind. She had her corn yellow hair braided around her head in a crown of gold, and stretching out from the slits in her armor fluttered the black and orange wings of a butterfly.

“Techaria,” she introduced herself with a smile and a handshake. “I’ve been assigned to you and Ione.” 

Techaria never left your side, standing firmly at your back after Rhysand winnowed you all to the Dawn Court and the crowd swelled to nearly a hundred. 

You were miles away from the Dawn Palace — the ocean at your front and a sea of frost-tinged grasses at your back. The air buzzed with excitement and dread and no small amount of bloodlust. 

You caught glimpses of the shimmering High Lord of Dawn and the hawk-winged peregryn soldier who held his hand as he dispensed final healing touches. He would not be among the seven High Lords and High Ladies leaving for the Continent. 

The High Lord and High Lady of Winter stood glistening like a pair of crystalline figures beside one of the coast’s watchtowers. White-haired warriors of frost and starshine bobbed around like snowfall and you struggled not to tremble in the presence of the three armored polar bears among their ranks. Eris’s males were similarly easy to spot with their burnished copper armour and their battle hounds hovering at their shoulders. Azriel stepped in between you and one of the beasts, froth pouring from between razor sharp teeth as it growled in your direction for staring too long.

A Summer soldier shoved past, earning himself a glower from Techaria and Azriel as he grabbed another female and drew her into one last passionate kiss. The seashell necklaces they wore clattered as they met, evidence of the dozens of battles they’d survived together. 

It wasn’t an uncommon sight as the crowd quickly split apart at the orders of their High Lords and High Ladies, coalescing into pre-determined divisions that sometimes asked mated pairs to separate. In foreign territory against a mysterious god, communications through their bonds would be indispensable. 

You saw an Autumn Court male — one of the High Lord’s brothers by the name of Castor — break away from his group. He ran towards a willowy Spring nymph two divisions over and slipped a ring into their pocket. 

Their blue eyes blew open in surprise, cries of protest smothered by a firm kiss before he whispered, “I have my High Lord’s blessing. When this is over, I’ll propose to you properly, but you’ll keep this safe in the meantime, won’t you?” 

The nymph sputtered, then nodded when words failed them. Just as quickly as he had come, Castor sprinted back to his men and his division disappeared before your eyes. They were the first to winnow to the Continent.

Lucien folded you into a back-breaking hug. “Stay safe.” Your brother commanded. You heard the tightness in his voice. He’d be staying with Feyre and Rhysand to lead one of the main charges alongside Eris and Tarquin. “I can’t lose you as well.”  

“I’ll come back so long as you do.” 

You squeezed him hard enough to crack ribs, but Lucien wished it had lasted longer. He dove into the parting wave of bodies and vanished. 

You felt your throat tighten as you turned to face the goodbye you’d been dreading the most. 

“Az, I—” 

He silenced you with a kiss, sliding his tongue over your lips for one last taste. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He refused to accept the possibility that you wouldn’t return to each other.

He pulled away so quickly your head spun. 

“I’ll be with the second division,” he breathed out, “Near the southwest corner, not even a mile away from you.” The map flashed in your mind with all its little figurines spread out like a chess game. “Remember what we talked about?” 

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

You nodded fervently. 

Someone in the crowd was calling his name. Maybe Cassian? You couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the hazel eyes burning into you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but suddenly his brother was there grabbing his arm and hauling him away towards the second division. Red and blue siphons flashed in the grey light and then the pair were gone. 

The crowd thinned as more groups began winnowing away to the Continent. One second there. The next second, gone.

“We need to go, my Lady,” Techaria said gently, but firmly. She’d given you both your privacy and a few precious seconds, but that time was over now. 

You nodded, not able to look away from the empty space Azriel had occupied. 

“He’ll be fine, girl,” Ione said, taking Techaria’s hand. She wore thin, chainmail armour enchanted to feel weightless and a glamoured veil over her features. You caught glimpses of her true face out of the corner of your eyes, but direct eye contact and her face blurred and warped into something unnatural. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

Your stomach dropped when you realized you never did say goodbye to Azriel.

You felt Techaria’s calloused palm slide into yours and then you were gone.

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Author's Note:

Yeah guys, RIP Jurian. As I said in a previous post, one of my qualms with SJM is that she doesn't let characters stay dead. I want y'all to know, Jurian is gone. Sorry............ he wasn't even in the story for very long and didn't do much but I'm going to miss him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader slowburn #angst #character death #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 5

Summary: Reader gets ready with her girls for a stark party.

TW: mentions / discussion of overstimulation, mentions of parties (ew)

Words: 2.4K

A/n Sorry for the late update, I started writing this at 2am on two hours of sleep and then my grandma ended up in the hospital and I had to drive eight hours to see her. Oh… and uni went back so I have like ten assignments.

You had been sleeping for about an hour and a half before beginning to stir. You shifted in your sleep a few times indicating you were close to waking up.

Wanda had been reading because you were still curled around her leg like a baby sloth and despite having no issue with being your personal pillow, it did mean she was unable to leave without waking you.

The redheaded witch had one hand nestled in your hair as she gently massaged your scalp while holding her book with the other hand and using her magic to turn the pages.

You had one leg thrown over her calve as your arms were wrapped around her thigh with your cheek resting on the top of it.

As you begun to shift around more you had began detangling yourself from Wanda, she took note of your waking state and placed the bookmark into the spine of her novel before turning and setting it down on the bedside table.

She sent a quick text to Natasha to let her know you would be up soon, before shifting her gaze back to you to admire your sleepy expression.

While you slept your features were so much more relaxed, your guard was down and the small crinkle in your brow was gone. Wanda had to hold herself back from running her thumb between your eyebrows at the sight of the usually tense skin sitting smooth and flat.

She knew you had a small headache most of the time just from the way you acted. The way your hands drifted to your temples to massage them when it got bad. The way your brow never sat flat unless you were sleeping. Or maybe it was the way you winced when Thor was being too loud that had tipped her off.

Regardless as to what it was that had alerted her to your hidden headaches, she could figure out or at least assume it was due to what pepper had said about your powers.

With them dialling up your senses it must be the cause of your day to day discomfort even if it had seemed to trigger worse than normal at the mall today.

It seemed like something that you had just accepted, after all you didn’t have a permanent solution as of yet.

It also seemed to be something that shifter day to day hour to hour in terms of its severity.

As Wanda had gotten lost in her own mind, you continued wriggling on the bed beside her drawing her attention back to present day you laid beside her.

You mumbled something incoherent before rolling over with a small tired groan that sent Wanda’s heart tripping over itself as your eyes fluttered open.

You sleepily pried your headphones off which had miraculously managed to stay on while you had slept.

Wanda smiled down at you and reached out, rubbing your back gently as she continued drinking in your tired and sleepy expression.

You gave her a slightly crooked grin that did things to her she wasn’t going to repeat.

“Hello sleepyhead.” She said softly, unsure of how you were feeling and also relived she hadn’t tripped over her words. She was optimistic that you were feeling better as you had removed your headphones of your own accord which made for a good sign.

You mumbled out a short “good morning” which made Wanda laugh softly.

Before the two of you could continue there was a light knock on the door. Wanda softly called for them to come in and Nat slipped through the doorway and into the room.

She came and sat down on the bed beside you so you were between the two women.

“Hey Y/n/n, how are you feeling?” Nat asked.

“‘M alright. A bit tired still, but my headaches gone, and it doesn’t feel like everything’s too much anymore.” You mumbled rubbing a balled fist at your eyes tiredly.

“That’s good.” Wanda said with a smile.

You sniffled, sitting up properly.

“Are you feeling well enough for a party?” Nat asked.

“What party?” You asked sitting up a little taller.

“Tony’s throwing a party to welcome you to the team.” Wanda said.

“That’s why we went dress shopping dumb-dumb.” Nat said rolling her eyes playfully.

You simply looked at them and blinked.

“Y/n? You ok?” Wanda asked.

“I think we broke her.” Nat said masking her mild concern at your lack of reaction.

“I’m fine.” You said snapping out of it.

“So?” Wanda asked.

“So?…” you asked.

“The party. You excited?” Wanda pressed and you shrugged non-committedly.

“I guess.” You said.

“You guess?” Nat said sounding exasperated. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really been to many parties. I’m more of a stay in and watch a movie kinda girly.” You said.

“If parties aren’t your thing you don’t have to stay for all of it.” Wanda said, “But you do have to make an appearance, because Stark’s throwing it for you.” She said looking apologetic.

“Wait a second,” you began looking panicked. “I don’t want people to know who I am. How will Stark throw a party to welcome me to the team without everyone finding out who I am. I mean I wouldn’t hate it but I don’t want people to know and it puts peter at risk and-“ you rambled.

“Y/n.” Wanda said but you continued to spiral. “Y/n! Listen to me.” She said taking your hands in hers. Your eyes snapped to meet hers. “Calm down. It’s not a huge party, its just the avengers and anyone else who is important to the team as well as a few SHEILD agents. Only people who already know peter is spiderman. It’s a small thing.” She reassured and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh?” You asked feeling a bit better. “Who’s coming?” You asked getting a little curious as to who knew of your little brothers alter ego.

“Well Carol is going to swing by because she’s in the area. I think the guardians are busy. All the avengers will be there some of which I don’t think you have met yet. Peppers coming. Director fury is coming by to congratulate you, I think. Maria, an old friend of Nat’s. Doctor strange avoids us at all costs since the last time New York needed to be deep cleaned with his magic so he won’t be coming I don’t think. Shuri is probably busy. Rhodey one of Stark’s friends will drop by probably. Scott lang and his daughter my be coming. And Thor is bringing his brother Loki who sometimes stays at the tower. He’s kind of an honorary avenger. Bruce will probably be hiding in his lab. I think stark invited your aunt. And of course…” Wanda said trailing off to look at Nat who rolled her eyes.

“My sister, Yelena and her best friend Kate bishop.” Nat finished for Wanda.

“So… a few people.” You said with a chuckle.

“You could say that.” Wanda smiled.

“And all these people know my brother's real identity?” You asked.

“Yes. They’ve known peter for a while most of them since the incident in Germany, but some only met him more recently when we fought the big purple grape.” Nat pitched in.

“About that…” you said looking at Nat.

“Oh … you're wondering how I survived when practically every channel on the TV was saying I died?” Nat said looking amused.

“Um… kinda, yeah.” You said. “Is that rude?”

“No. After Tony snapped, I returned with the others who blipped, and we used the time stone to go back and save Tony.” Nat shrugged.

“Okay…” you said nodding slowly. “So just another day in the office?” You grinned.

“Pretty much.” Nat said mirroring your look with a bemused smile.

“Now.” Wanda said clapping her hands. “No more stalling. The party is in two hours and we need to get ready.” The witch looked very excited at this revelation and the idea of getting ready with you and Natasha.

“Alright.” You smiled, “what are you thinking wands?”

“Well Nat is amazing at braiding so she can do hair while I do makeup.” Wanda was practically buzzing where she stood looking like she had just eaten three kilos of sugar.

“Who’s first?” You asked looked between them.

“Wanda can start on your makeup while I braid my own hair first.” Nat said with a fond smile.

“Sounds good to me.” Wanda said getting up off the bed. “Where do you keep your makeup?” She asked looking around the room.

“Um … about that … I don’t have any.” You said and Wanda looked surprised for a second before perking up again.

“I think I have some in your skin tone.” She said “I’ll be right back, stay here.” Wanda grinned before taking off out the door to presumably head to her own room.

“She love this stuff doesn’t she?” You said turning to Natasha who was expertly separating her hair into sections with her nimble fingers.

“Oh yeah.” Nat said looking amused. “She lives for this kind of thing.”

“Of course she does.” You said playfully rolling your eyes. “She’s stunning even without makeup.” You said not meaning to let that slip as Nat raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Oh yeah?” Nat asked.

“I-I mean you are too. Don’t get me wrong. Your both hot and…” you said before groaning and covering your face with your hands.

“Thanks, hot stuff you're not so bad yourself.” Nat grinned patting your leg with her hand while the other held her partially done braid together.

You must have looked like a tomato by the time Wanda came back. She laughed when she saw you sat there looking flustered.

“Oh, Nat what have you done.” She chuckled sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t think I have that skin tone.” She joked and you covered your face again.

Wanda sat beside you on the bed and gently reached out to pry your hands off your face.

“None of that, show me those pretty eyes baby.” Wanda said softly and you pouted at her with a little frown.

“Your too cute.” Natasha said as she finished one braid off with a hand before starting on the next. She planned to pin it into a fancy up-do when she finished the two braids.

You sat up on the bed, folding your legs under you in a Criss-cross pattern while wanda mirrored the pose facing you.

“Alright.” Wanda said. “What kind of look do you want to go for?” She asked.

“I don’t know much about makeup so whatever you think would be best.” You shrugged and Wanda nodded thoughtfully.

“Alright.” She said after a minute of deliberation. “I have an idea. Close your eyes we’re starting with the eye makeup.” Wanda said as she fished around in her makeup kit before pulling out some tape.

Wanda cut and short piece and lined it up tin the edge of your eyes before lightly dusting some black eyeshadow over it. When she brought her finger up to blend it out your breath hitched slightly at the feel of her fingertips on your skin and you prayed she didn’t notice.

Wanda continued working silently. Putting silver eyeshadow on and continuing to blend with her finger.

She removed the tape and curled your eyelashes before adding a waterproof mascara.

The concealer was cold when Wanda applied it and it was refreshing in a way. The way it covered the space under your eyes made you seem much less tired than you normally looked as an ever long suffering insomniac.

Once she had dusted your cheeks with a light blush and put on the finishing details you took note of how her lip had made its way between her teeth, wether from concentration or admiration you were unsure but it was cute regardless.

“Done.” Wanda said and you sighed, not realising the close proximity of her fingers ghosting over your skin had made you subconsciously hold your breath in anticipation.

“You look stunning parker.” Nat said with a little smirk.

“She’s not wrong. You look three-hundred shades of hot right now.” Wanda said and held up a mirror.

Your own breath almost hitched at the person in the mirror.

Wanda had done dark eyes with smoky eyeliner and silver eyeshadow. Your cheekbones were defined and covered in a light blush that shimmered slightly in the light. Your eyelashes looked long and dark bringing out the colour of your eyes.

“Do you like it honey?” Wanda asked.

“I love it.” You said taking your eyes off your reflection to beam at the witch who seemed to preen under your praise.

“Im glad.” Wanda said.

The rest of the time spent getting ready was rather uneventful. Nat’s fingers felt amazing as she grazed your scalp while segmenting and braiding your hair into three sections which Wanda then pinned up into a beautiful spiral.

In the end you were stood dressed in a black dress with an open back, it hugged your curves and showed just the right amount of skin. It had an ankle cut with a slit that reached to your mid thigh. It was strapless with a black ribbon holding the back together in a way that exposed plenty of tanned skin.

You had black heels with silver rhinestones which matched your silver jewellery. You wore a think silver chair and simple hoop earrings. Your rings and jewellery were all your own that you never took off and you always paired it to your outfits and not the other way around.

Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder startling you out of your own thoughts.

“You look amazing stop fretting.” She said. “If you want you can stay with either Nat or I the whole night if it helps with the anxiety.” She posed looking slightly hopeful you would agree to spend the night on her arm.

“I would love that.” You said softly and Wanda nodded happily.

“Then it shall be so my lady. Right this way.” She said swooping into a low bow and taking you on her arm and leading you down the hall.

The party wasn’t as loud as you had been expecting. Part of you had been worried of another issue with your spider senses in such close succession to the attack earlier today, but it seemed that would not be an issue today at least.

@tia-thesimp @lizzielillvr @leenasayeed @justarandomreaderxoxo @sycamorelibrary754 @dorabledewdroop @redwolfqueen19 @sadlesbeansstuff

Im sorry to anyone i missed on the taglist it was saying it couldn’t find some of the blogs i was given in the comments (this happens if you change your name as well)

#wandanat x r #wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #natasha romaoff #reader #reader insert #sicfic #whump #fluff #comfort #marvel #fanfic #wandanat #wandanat x reader #fic #spiderman #spiders sister #y/n parker #peter parker #avengers #avengers tower #avenger reader #the spiders sister #tony stark #pepper potts #may parker #stark party #stark industries #peter Parker’s sister #peter has an older sister

[astonmartingf]

WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME —

— you ended up on this random stranger's bed and suddenly the next thing you know you're moving in with him to raise a baby

P4 ★ PULLING UP ALL-NIGHTERS

amgf reader is still pregnant 😞 we're getting there so now have fluff, i wrote this immediately after chapter 3 but then got sidetracked with research, and studies n e ways!!! this chapter could've gone three different ways but you're stuck with this. i hope you enjoy reading like always 👍 THE TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!! no more 😃✋

yourusername uploaded a new story

[he's off to the crowd and i'm off to grading papers 🙄]

"The baby is keeping you awake?" You jolt at the short creak of the door hinge in front of you, from the other side of the door you see Jenson.

You place your phone beside you, keeping your excitement at bay hiding the fact of how much you truly missed him. A smile grows in your lips as Jenson enters his now shared home with you, luggage and handbags in tow.

"I thought there was still a race? Why are you here already?" You push your laptop and paperwork to the side, pulling out one of the chairs beside you, gesturing him to come near.

Jenson feigned disappointment, throwing his head back before settling beside you. "And here I thought you two missed me, nonetheless it wasn't like I could do more there when all my thoughts are here. So I flew back after crossing the chequered flag."

You ignore your heart skipping a beat at his statement, attempting to ignore the smile growing into your lips mirroring his. "Enough about me, what about you? It's already late and you're not yet in bed, I doubt you were waiting for me so what did our baby do this time?"

You hold your breath in close proximity to his— arm stretching to the corner of your chair, leaning forward to the bump in your belly. Jenson's head tilts to the side, pressing his ear in an effort to hear the baby from inside. "Are you giving mama a hard time huh? It's time to sleep you know. Why are you moving a lot there?"

It's crazy enough that you're pregnant and raising a baby with him, but it's even crazier how your emotions are barely holding it in.

"I was trying to sleep, but I wasn't sure if it was the baby or the lack of your presence—" you mumble under your breath before continuing, "so I'm just catching up on some of the papers. Have you eaten dinner? I can heat up the dishes I made earlier though, stay seated and I will—"

Before you can get up, Jenson pushes you from your shoulder, keeping you still in your seat. "Stay, I'll warm them myself and keep you company while you work on your papers."

Jenson moves your papers back in front of you with a small smile on his face not missing the small peck in your forehead, before trailing over to the open kitchen in front of where you're seated. "Do you want me to heat some for you?"

You shake your head, burying yourself back in your papers the only difference is now with Jenson present, you can't help but let your eyes linger towards him in the kitchen, taking peeks at his actions no matter how mundane his tasks are.

Soon you found yourself in the rhythm of glancing back and forth to the papers in front of you and to the laptop screen on your left. "I made you tea instead, it might help you sleep."

Taking a seat, Jenson places your mug littered with bunny drawings in front of you and settles with a bowl of your leftover dinner. Sitting in silence you bask in each other's presence, talking here and there about your day. Things were back to normal, just like how it's supposed to be.

★ WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME — @cosmoscoffeee @astral-cowboy @minkyungseokie @ximaginx @thearchieves @scuderiadevils @black-fireproofs @evie-119 @hannannannannannah @evesfile @vi0letblu3s @siannaplmn @myescapefromthislife @ivyvlair @persiar9 @asmoothoperator @vettelsbees @hc-dutch @tallrock35 @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @booksandflowrs @champomiel @jeffs77 @escapism-writer @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @whatislifebutlemons @snapeeballsack @casperlikej @woozarts @hellowgoodbye @lady-bennet @phantomxoxo @regalbanshee @dark-night-sky-99 @formulaal @kqliie @hrts4scarr @vicurious28 @viennakarma — TAGLIST CLOSED ★

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #jenson button smau #jenson button fluff #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine

[wifeyoozi]

Lee Jihoon  ✶ 𓂃   Hold my hand when we run (chapter 1)

w.c : 7.8 k (holy shi-)┊ synopsis : your father's mafia business is in crisis. another gang leader offers your father help, but in exchange of you marrying him. ┊ content warning : (not smut for this chpt but still mdni) ,, mentions of guns, blood, mafias, etc ,, sort of arrange marriage ,, mafia!woozi ,, mafia's daughter! reader ,, lowkey neglectful parents ,, not many major trigger warnings for this chapter ┊ ceecee's note : this is the first chapter and is already so huge lol I think the fic will be about 3-4 chapters in total with the same wc range. smut will follow in chapters ahead. also I have beta-read this myself so there may still be some mistakes so please ignore if possible <3

There was no denying that your father’s business was soon to be doomed. With all the heavy interest loans atop him and after risking another beef with the rival gang, your father had pretty much brought it upon himself. 

The rival business had caught up with all of your father’s losses and was coming for his whole gang’s throat now. In the past 3 weeks, you have heard more threats than hellos. You and your mother were soon and surely to be caught up in this tragedy too, if nothing can be done soon enough. 

And the alliance parties and the gangs under your father were not helpful at all. If they weren't so deeply tangled up in your father’s business, they’d not be here anymore at all. Hypocritical, you think, how they could lick and kiss your father’s boots at the time of his prime to get away with all of their illegal businesses but do only so much as gossip around about him when he’s in trouble now. They wouldn’t have joined this conference held by your father either, if not for their own businesses and lives, being on the dangerous edge.

Even right now, as your feet angrily shook under the big meeting table, all the leaders and their assistants and their managers and their close men chatted among themselves instead of discussing a business strategy. You wanted to scoff and insult them for their behaviour if not for one of their help bringing in a solution to the room.

A solution in the disguise of a man – another mob boss.

You were just as anxious and restless in the wait of the said boss – who was still absent after a whole hour of the discussed time of the meeting.

You expected yet another self-entitled 50-year-old obese bald man to get involved in your business as if you didn’t already have enough of them in your alliances, too self-centered and careless to be punctual for an important meeting like this one.

Which is why it shocked you when the person who entered the room was a fine young-looking man who walked with elegance and a strong demeanour. Two men followed him, each dressed in black suits as he himself wore a formal (and a little messy) attire with a white wrinkled silk shirt, a black blazer, a loosely looped tie around his neck, and a silver jewellery adoring his neck. Strangely enough, he also wore a metallic silver mask, not covering his face completely, but enough to conceal his identity. He was a bit short than average man but not unattractively so, his hair long, pulled back into a slick ponytail at the back of his head, only a few strands escaping at the front.

Everyone in the room instantly stood up in his presence, and you followed. He scanned the large room, eyes as uninterested as they could be as he offered himself a sit at the centre of the table, right leg crossed over the left and leaning back with zero respect shown to those who are all definitely elder to him. You were simultaneously annoyed and impressed at his attitude.

“Woozi-ssi, welcome!” one of the men in the room exclaimed. Your mouth opened slightly ajar as you realised who you sat in front of. Woozi – the young yet powerful, rich and pretty much self-made boss of the rather new mafia group from another city – was in front of you. You had heard about him before, about his weaponry, money laundering, and contract-killing business, from your father or other colleagues in your father’s office, but you'd never thought you would actually ever meet him.

Another man took the opportunity to speak, “Woozi-ssi! I’m the one who contacted you, Seon Jong-soo! And look here, this is my son, Seon Jae-”

“I couldn’t care less for the formalities, Seon whatever-your-name-is,” Woozi interrupted unbothered, “what’s the problem I was called for.”

You exchanged glances with your father before he sighed briefly and explained his situation – the loan, the possible business downfall, the threats of the rivals. Another man, whom you assumed to be his personal assistant, backed behind him and noted it all down in a small notepad. 

When your father was done talking, Woozi huffed a chuckle. “Doesn’t sound as big of a deal to me,” because it isn’t your darn family at potential gunpoint, bastard, you couldn’t stop thinking. “Is no one even gonna offer me some whiskey?”

You could almost scoff at this man’s behaviour if it wasn’t for your whole family’s life to be in his hands now. 

Your father motioned to one of his men, who ran out of the room to grab a drink. The mafia leader in front of you leaned his head back and closed his eyes in the meanwhile. The others in the room could only look at each other, before one of them attempted to speak up, “so, woozi-ssi, what do-”

“Shh, boss is thinking,” the man behind him - the assistant spoke. You internally scoffed, the man is a second away from snoring. The whiskey comes in and gets served to Woozi, who takes one long sip from the glass.

“You don’t have to worry, Mr l/y/n, I'll handle the situation completely. Your rival is a rival to me too. And an enemy of the enemy is a friend – isn’t that what they say? Anyways, regardless,” woozi spoke, chuckling a little, and scanned his eyes around the room, briefly making eye contact with every other person. His gaze didn't meet yours though, not yet. “Regardless that, what do I get in return?”

You could see your father squirm in his place. There were usually only a few specific things mafia businesses exchanged during alliances. It could be drugs – not something your father dealt with usually, but could arrange for with his wide reach of contacts. Though you doubt woozi would sell his deal with that, when he could very much fetch better deals himself. It could be humans or organs, but you wouldn’t let your dad trade some innocent people to be slaughtered and sold like that. It could be money, but woozi is already paying your loan, you wouldn't expect it to be a deal if he was to ask it back with interest, putting your father in the same risk all over again. It could be trade of arms and weaponry and fighting men, but you hardly think woozi lacks any of those as it is. Or it could be, the less common but most frustrating one – a marriage alliance. 

“Well, what is it that you desire, woozi-ssi?” your father offered, “i may not be able to give it to you instantly, but i can surely arrange for it soon enough.”

“Hmm,” jihoon began dramatically, looking up at the ceiling in thought, “what can I have? I have everything, money, business, house, cars, girls, men, guns, weapons, and did I mention money? Well, nothing I need, really,” you bit your tongue, is he actually thinking or just showing off? “Then again, how can I make a deal if I do not get anything out of it.”

One thing you could see woozi was very good at doing is shutting up these otherwise talkative old men, making them uncomfortable enough to stop spewing their nonsense. You wouldn’t lie, that was quite attractive on his behalf. 

“There are quite some beautiful ladies in this room, and I am still unmarried, you know,” woozi spoke again. You weren’t the only girl in the room, surely, but most of them were rather lowly assistants, old wives of some men or some waitresses to cater the guests. You wonder if woozi was trying to gesture towards you all along – looking like the only girl around his age with a higher social status, and especially considering who's daughter you were. Your doubts were only confirmed when woozi makes eye contact with you, “what’s her name.”

His dark eyes felt like piercing through yours, intimidating your soul. You held every muscle of your body to not flinch and look away from him. Your father moves a little, attempting to talk, but you speak before him, “l/y/n y/n, his daughter,” you say gesturing towards your father. Your ears feel hot and red under his strong gaze, when he smirks at your boldness.

“W-woozi-ssi, can’t we see for other arrangements, some other girl? I do have contacts with some girls who are more beautiful and worthy of your attention,” you father stumbles upon his words, trying to shift the mafia’s dangerous eyes from you. 

They don't though. His eyes remain focused on you even as he speaks to your father, “I hardly think we can,” he says firmly, “unless, of course, she would rather reject me.”

As sincere as his words sounded, his smirk added a doubt in it. A condition in his deal. You knew all the eyes in the room were looking at you. Your father wanted to keep you apart from a man neither of you knew anything about. As much as his business meant to him, he wouldn’t sacrifice his daughter’s safety for it. 

You however thought otherwise, “i … i’m not rejecting you,” you say, not knowing any better words to say at the instant, too caught up in your thoughts already.

The corners of woozi’s lips pulled into a smile as he gestured towards you, “C’mere, pretty.”

You were nervous in your steps as you got up from your seat and strode to him. He stood up in front of you. His strong demeanour made you feel like he was towering over you even though you weren't much shorter than him. You didn't let the eye contact break, even up close here. 

He looked away first, reaching to move the loose strands of your hair from your face and tucking them behind your ears. His fingers lingered there, brushing over the skin of the back of your ears to your neck and restover the back of your neck. You shivered at his touch. His fingers were calloused and rough and cold. 

When he held your neck like that, you thought he would do something embarrassing and shameless like pull you in a kiss in front of everyone. 

He doesn't, in fact, pull you in a kiss. Instead, with a single flick of his fingers, he opens the single silver chain you wore and takes it in his hand. You gasped lightly, the chain wasn't something you wanted him to play with – it was the last gift you had received from your grandmother before her demise.

He takes out a ring from the many he wore in his left hand – a shiny silver with a red diamond in the centre. “Here, a betrothal gift from me,” he said, as he inserted your chain through the ring’s loop, “don't think my rings would fit your hand, so wear it here instead.”

He pulled your hair to the side as he hooked the chain back around your neck. The close proximity forced you to breathe in his expensive intoxicating cologne. He stared deep into your eyes once again. His hand slid down your back and rested on your waist. Your jaw involuntarily tightened, your fists forming. 

“Father-in-law,” Woozi spoke, breaking your eye contact to look at your father, “I'll send my assistant with a contract for you to sign tomorrow. Read it carefully and all, don't want you at my ass later. You'll see all your work done by the weekend. The following weekend, I'll marry your daughter.”

Woozi wasn't asking, or planning. He was commanding. You knew your father was glancing at you, but you did not know how to meet his eyes, so you kept yours to the floor. 

Your father must have had a lot more questions to ask the mafia, of course, but he had no time to do so as the latter had already begun walking out of the hall, his assistant and bodyguards following close behind.

More than a week has passed already. Five days ago, you were notified by your father that all your loans were paid “mysteriously”. You weren't shocked. From what you had heard, Woozi did have that kind of money. Three days ago you saw it on the news, the rival gang leader was arrested for illegal smuggling of drugs. Their gang also underwent bankruptcy. You don't know how Woozi managed to do all of it within a few days, but he did. 

It gives you some comfort of the future, that you'll be going to live in a house where you would be provided with all you'll need and want. But it still haunts you that you'll be spending the rest of your life with a man you don't love. A man who may not even love you back. That you were still being traded off to a mafia. 

You weren't new to all of this, of course. You grew up with your father dealing with blood all the time. You grew up with at least two men beside you at all times so you weren't kidnapped or murdered by your father's enemies. You learnt how to use a gun when you were 12. You had gone through intense self-defence training. You've never had any real friends, let alone a lover. You had seen people get shot in the heart in front of your eyes. You had already grown up in the mafia lifestyle to be scared about it.

But still, for some reason, you were.

Hell, you didn't even know how the man you were marrying looked under that damn mask. You had only seen him once in your life and that too with his face half covered. 

It was almost noon and you were still in your bed. You hadn't slept all night. You haven't been able to sleep well since the last few days, and last night, you just spent staring at the ceiling above your head, overthinking every outcome your life possibly could have now.

There was no one to blame except yourself. You were the one who'd agreed to the mafia. But what else were you supposed to do, let your father beg on the street?

There was a knock on the door, “madam? Are you awake yet? There's someone here to meet you.”

You let out a loud groan, “tell them to fuck off. I don't want to meet anyone.”

You heard some murmuring outside and then another voice was heard, not your maid's, but rather a man's, “Darling, I am afraid I can't give you that option. Open the door.”

You groan again, forcing yourself out of the bed, wearing your fluffy pink bunny slippers and walking to open the door to your room. Outside is a man you had never seen before, but that somehow doesn’t surprise you a bit. He has somewhat long hair, half of them pinned behind with only his bangs curtaining his face. He was slender and pretty tall, wearing a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves and grey tailored linen pants. He was objectively beautiful, probably more beautiful than you were yourself, which made you feel even more embarrassed when he grimaced at your appearance.

“Eugh, girl, why do you look like that,” he commented. Which was reasonable considering you were still in your pajamas, not having taken a bath yet, your hair a bird’s nest and your eyes carrying dark eye bags from the lack of proper sleep. The man sighed, “you know what, i’ll give you 45 minutes to wash up and get ready before we go out. I can’t take you out if you look like that.”

“Take me out?” you raised your eyebrows. Who even was this man?

“Ahh, yes, my bad, i haven’t told you yet,” the man says, “i’m Jeonghan and i got sent here by your husband-to-be as your bride’s maid – bride's man? – or whatever you like to call me. Basically to assist you to buy your dress and get you to the saloon and all of that stuff, i got a list. It's two days to your wedding, if you remember. Your husband-to-be wants it all to be perfect for you. Something like that, he said.”

“Isn’t my bride’s maid supposed to ideally be my best friend or sister?” you narrowed your eyes at him, because even if you knew he was not at fault, you were still very angsty about the whole marriage.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, “how about this, you call woozi and tell him what you want. I am doing the job I am told to do. I did not train with guns for a whole year to shop for your fucking wedding dress either, so don’t be complaining to me here.”

You sighed, “Fine, whatever, I'll go take a bath.”

You say, and leave to your bathroom. You hurry up with your business, showering and washing hair and getting ready, putting on some decent clothes. You meet up with Jeonghan in the living room of your house and he leads you outside to a slick black SUV. There is a driver at the front and jeonghan sits on the passenger seat, leaving the whole back seat to you. 

The two of you first end up in a wedding dress store. It looks expensive from the outside and on the inside. You weren’t a big fan of designer clothes but you sure appreciated a good dress made by a great designer. The lady welcomed you at the door with a big customer-service smile, “ahh, welcome ma’am! Please join me here,” she said leading your way to the inside of the store.

The store was almost suspiciously empty, and you wondered if it was because it was on the luxurious end of the stores or if woozi had booked it for you or something. He very much seemed like the type of man to pull such a thing. Your suspicion only grew when the stylist brought only 5 pairs of dresses with her.

“Your groom selected these five dresses for you to choose from. These are some of our best and latest collection here,” the stylist began, giving all the unnecessary details about the dresses to you. She only stopped when you had let out a yawn, unintentionally interrupting her words.

“Try them on, y/n,” jeonghan urged, “see which you like the best.”

“Sure,” you say with an uninterested face as you take one of the dresses and get behind the changing room to try it on. The first was a long frilly dress with lacey long sleeves. It was nothing too special to be from such a designer store and made you feel like a grandmother. One after the other you tried on the dresses. They were all pretty, not that bad. But not your taste and definitely not something you’d want to wear on your big day. 

At the same time, you also knew that you did not have much of a say there and you didn’t want to risk arguing or upsetting Woozi, not knowing what kind of outcomes it could bring to you and your father. So you settled on the last dress you tried, a silky long pearly white dress which reached your feet, not too flowy but not bodycon either with a sweetheart neck and spaghetti straps on both sides. It came along with long gloves and a veil. 

“How do i look?” you ask jeonghan, having no one better to ask for opinion.

Jeonghan looked up from his phone and checked you out head to toe, “pretty good. Do you like this one?”

“Better than the rest,” you shrugged, looking at yourself in the mirror. The longer you stare, the weirder the dress starts looking on you. You knew it was something about it all being in the head, when you look at yourself for too long, you remember from one of your psychology classes from college. But it made you wonder if the dress even looked good on you or if jeonghan only said that because he got too tired after seeing you not like any of the dresses, “does this make me look fat?”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “One, the dress really fits you well, and brings out your figure. Two, I am not authorized to say anything about your body and looks, good or bad. And three, ain't nothing wrong with a little curvy? Why do girls fuss about it?”

You rolled your eyes at him through the mirror. You doubt he would speak his mind even if he thought otherwise, for your sake and for his job’s sake. “Sure, whatever. I’ll take this dress then,” you say before entering back behind the privacy curtains to change into the comfortable clothes you came wearing.

After the dress, you shop for shoes and jewelry. Well, barely shop for it. You just had to try on the white glittery heels that were pre-picked for you for the most comfortable size and barely choose between the 3 sets of very similar diamond jewelry sets. It was almost funny. You were just wasting your time when everything was already selected for you. Around 5 pm, jeonghan took you to a saloon. 

“You’ll get body and facial spa done today. It will take 3 hours to get it done. Clara will take care of you in meanwhile, ask her for whatever you need. Call me after you’re done,” Jeonghan says, sounding just as tired and bored as you. And you couldn’t even blame him. You sighed and let yourself be taken for your spa session.

By the end of the day, jeonghan brought you back home in the same SUV. you offered him to stay for dinner but he declined it and bid his farewell. 

You sighed. Its not that you were friends with the man, or you had gotten fond of him in day (not with that attitude if his, certainly). Its just that you would’ve preferred some company at the dinner table. You were used to sitting alone, your father constantly over some business call and your mother not bothering to eat until late, usually busy with some or the other friend or party. You thought it would get better over the years, and it did, a little. You weren’t particularly sad over your loneliness every night anymore. But the thought of sharing dinner always sounded way more comforting and attractive.

You went to bed early that night, but couldn’t find sleep until tiredness took over your body by the early morning.

The next day was similar. Jeonghan came earlier today and took you to get your hair treated and get waxed and get a manicure and pedicure and your nails done. You did have lunch with him that day, stopping by a nearby local cafe and eating a sandwich on the table you shared. You did not engage in a talk. Jeonghan was busy on a call for most of the time. From the details and notes he supplied, you would assume it was Woozi or at least his assistant. But how frankly and casually he talked, even making a single joke of his height in between almost made you doubt.

“He wants to talk to you – your husband,” Jeonghan said, grabbing your attention. Your eyes widened as he passed his phone to you, not knowing how tos speak suddenly. 

“Hey baby,” the voice on the other end cooed. Surely it was Woozi.

“Uhm, hi?”

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “Is your shopping going good? Did you feel better after the saloon trips? I’ve heard girls like this stuff, especially before big events. I don’t know a lot about you but i thought you’d like this. Though you can always tell Jeonghan if you dont like something, he knows how to manage this stuff.”

You didn’t know how to respond. There were a lot of things you didn’t like as it is, the biggest of which was the wedding itself. But you didn't dare open your mouth and speak about it. You just hum neutrally, your fists tightening under the table.

“Well, gotta go now,” Woozi said, “I’ll meet you tomorrow, goodbye, pretty.”

The nickname made your ears heat up. The call was ended before you could bid your bye. So you simply pass the phone back to jeonghan. 

“Jih- Woozi isn’t a bad person, you know,” he remarked, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

You raised your eyebrow sarcastically, “of course, how could a mafia leader be bad.”

“No,” Jeonghan chuckled, “yeah, he’s bad like that. But his personality isn’t bad, you know what I mean? He’s got a good heart. He’ll keep you happy.”

You bit your cheek. You didn’t have a response for that, so you just nodded.

The rest of your day was spent packing your luggage to go. Jeonghan didn’t have to assist you in that. Your mother sat you through it and you wish she hadn't. Your mother was almost never there for you, emotionally or physically, even when you needed her the most. You didn't want her crying over your shoulder, lying to you that she'd miss you, making you feel guilty for going away.

Sleep was a little easier that night. You realised your husband's house isn't going to be much different than where you live now anyway. From a gangster to another. Maybe you'd make some friends there. Maybe your husband wouldn't be that bad. Maybe you'll not lose all of your freedom. Maybe, just maybe, you'll get the love you deserve there.

You woke up early that day. You didn't had to leave for the wedding till evening so you took the leisured time to take a milk bath. 

You didn't realise until now how insignificant your house was to you. You couldn't bring yourself to cry to leave it even if you wanted to. You didn't have any friends close enough to meet and bid goodbyes to. Nor you had any possession so precious in the house that you'd miss it. You didn't even have a pet to cuddle with a last time.

Have you always been this lonely? You never realised it while working at your father's office or while helping in community service. Those were really the two things you did for the job's sake. You didn't have any special hobbies either. You used to love drawing and painting and cooking when you were younger, but those habits were long left behind when you were introduced in your father's business. No one took you seriously if you were indulging yourself in those girly hobbies.

You wondered what you'd even do after settling in your husband's house. Will you be allowed to work beside him? Will you be given separate tasks to be done? 

You really had no idea. You were not prepared for this marriage at all. Not like you have a choice either way, but the thought still fears you. 

You are also petrified by the thought of bedding with Woozi. You weren't a virgin, you lost that title back in your senior college year. But you weren't exactly very experienced either. You didn't want to disappoint your husband on your first night. And you had no idea how he was in bed. Would he be too rough? Too merciless? Too harsh? Would he look after your pleasure at all? 

All the questions and not one answer. 

After your last lunch in your house, Jeonghan returned to your house with stylists and dressers to get you ready. You felt overwhelmed by the amount of ladies continuously focusing on you. 

It took a total of 3 hours to get your hair and make up done. The make up was finely done, not too bare but not too much to make you uncomfortable with it either, pretty pink lips with glittery eyes. Your hair was tied in a braided updo, with your front bangs curled and left loose, silver flowery pins arranged on either sides of your head. The dress had only a few last-minute adjustments to be made and a veil was put atop at last.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked pretty. You felt pretty. If you could have married someone you loved, you would have felt happier. You shook your head at the thought. It's for the best, you think, this marriage is for the best. The alternative is best not thought about.

Your eyes flickered to the side when you heard the door open. It was Jeonghan, followed by your father. Jeonghan looked at his wristwatch. “We can leave if you're done, y/n.”

“Just a minute,” your father walked towards you, and kept both his hands over your shoulders, “You look beautiful, daughter.”

You smiled a little. “Thank you.”

Your father spoke a little about his own marriage and how he felt nervous that day. He shed a single tear but quickly wiped it off. “Ah, Jeonghan, I think she is ready to go.”

You glanced between your father and Jeonghan. “Just me? My mom and dad aren't joining?” You asked Jeonghan.

He raised an eyebrow, “they didn't tell you?” He glanced once at your father, who seemed to be stuck with words, then sighed, “yeah only you are leaving. It's a small wedding. What would your family do there, anyway, it's a wedding between you and woozi. Uhm, his words, not mine.”

As much as a point Jeonghan had, your parents not being at your wedding still seemed quite unusual. You didn't speak your thoughts, just picked up your gown and walked out with Jeonghan. You said one final goodbye to your parents and got out of the house. 

The car parked outside wasn't the same black SUV. In Fact it was a Limousine. Even your dad doesn't own a Limousine. Your eyes widened as Jeonghan guided you in. Once you are sitting comfortably (or as comfortably as you can get in that dress), the driver starts the journey. Your luggage was sent ahead an hour ago. 

“Are you nervous?” Jeonghan asks, sitting opposite to you. 

You sigh, “Yeah, kind of. But not much i can do about it.”

“Why are you acting like you're gonna die?” Jeonghan chuckled, “It's just your wedding. Your life ain't ending.”

Easy for him to say. You shook your head. Jeonghan then passes you a pitch black blindfold, “Wear this. You are not allowed to know the location of Woozi's mansion yet. The whole gang base is there. It's a protocol.”

You put the blindfold on. You aren't new to this concept, it's not the first time you've been blindfolded to be taken to a location either. 

“Take a nap if you need, it's gonna be a while for us.”

You nod and let your head rest back on the seat cushion. You don't fall asleep instantly, instinctively trying to memorise every turn the car takes. But it's useless in the end with how long the journey is. You do not realise when you drift away listening to the white murmuring of the car engine.

You wake up only about two hours later, with Jeonghan shaking your wrist. You look up instantly, but your vision is still blinded. 

“Y/n, we're almost here. You can take off the blind fold.” 

You do so, eyes blurring before adjusting to the light in the car. Jeonghan passes you a small bag.

“Touch up your makeup if you need.”

You don't think you really need a touch up, but you end up re-applying your lipstick and puffing some powder on your face to make it slightly more presentable. 

Everything happens so fast after that. Your veil is adjusted on your head, you are guided inside the house, and then you are passed a bouquet of fresh flowers - a mix of white and pink lilies and roses and peonies wrapped with a white satin ribbon. The wedding seemed to be taking place in the living room itself, a huge living room. You couldn't even see the whole house from where the car was parked, but you knew it was a freaking big mansion. Bigger than any you have ever lived in or visited.

Your breath feels caught up at the moment.

It almost doesn't feel real as you look at the carpet under your feet, leading to the centre of the living room where your soon-to-be husband stood. You don't look at him as you walk, eyes glued to your own feet. You could almost feel your heart in your throat, it was that loud.

You stand in front of your husband, letting out a big breath as you look up to meet his eyes. You two are about the same height with you in heels. He's still wearing that silly mask over his face, but you can see his small smile and soft eyes through them anyway. “Hey, pretty,” he says, making your cheeks heat up under the make up. 

“Hi,” you say weakly. You couldn't bring yourself to say hi, handsome, even as he incredibly looks so. He was wearing a dark grey rich tuxedo with a white dress shirt inside, his first two buttons open to leave a sliver of his collarbone to your sight. His hair was half pulled back and tied as the other half rested over his shoulders, his bangs beautifully framing his face.

The wedding alters begin. It was a short ceremony. No vows were taken by either of you. The officiant has you both confirm your consent in the marriage before having you sign on the marriage documents which would be taken to the court later for authorisation. 

“Now the husband may kiss the bride,” the officiant said.

Woozi slipped a hand to push your loose hair strands out of the way and cup your cheek tenderly. “Can I?” He says gently, almost in a whisper. 

Your ears burn down to your neck as you nodded slowly. Woozi stared into your eyes for a brief second, almost as if trying to find something in them. You didn't know what it was. He leaned down and met your lips. His other hand went down to hold your waist as he pushed his lips further into the kiss.

You kissed back, not wanting to seem bratty or ungrateful. He was a good kisser, gentle and soft. His lips were a little chapped. Not rough or dry, but you could feel the scrub of his chaps against your lips. 

When he pulled away, the very few attendants in the hall clapped. There must be no more than ten in the room other than you two, about 4 body guards, 2-3 men in suits – perhaps assistants or business partners or even brothers, there was Jeonghan and there was the assistant from the other day. There were 2 other assisting women – assumingly maids by their outfits.

You wonder where Woozi’s parents must be. They were certainly not there in the hall at the moment. It was ritualistic in all typical Korean households to bow in front of the bride and groom's parents. Your parents were not even invited. And woozi's seemed to not be around either. Were they even alive?

You shake that thought away. As much liberty to think you had in the privacy of your mind, you still felt it inappropriate to think so of your in-laws. 

“We're married now,” Woozi cooed, catching your attention. You nodded, keeping your head low. Woozi chuckled, raising your chin with his finger, “princess, what are you so shy about, hm? You were so bold that day in the meeting room.”

You looked up at him, stared into his dark eyes. He smiled, “ah, there she is.”

“Are you always this annoying?” You spoke your thoughts before you could think. Woozi's eyebrows raised in surprise and you clench your fists, scared that you may have overstepped. Instead, Woozi just chuckles again. 

Shaking his head he said, “let's go for the banquet. You must be hungry and tired after the long day.”

You walk as woozi guides you, a hand resting over your hips. You felt awkward as you ended up in another room, smaller than the living room but big enough to accommodate a huge dining table. There were several people around the table already, about two to three dozen, other goons and gangsters and assistants by their looks. They all stood up before you two, bowing first at Woozi then at you.

You and woozi sit at the centre end of the table, two decorated chairs for the two of you, meal already served beside drinks.

A man raised his glass of alcohol, loudly shouting, “Here's to my boss and his new wife! Cheers!”

Everyone else in the room cheered as woozi chuckled, raising his own glass. You felt awkward there, out of place. You just smiled, and raised your glass a little.

The meal begins. You eat slowly, not feeling too hungry and not wanting to drop anything on your dress either. And there were mushrooms in your plate. You hated mushrooms. You tried not to be too picky, to just pick one up and eat. But your face twists as soon as you took one in your mouth. Woozi must have caught on your grimaced face. 

“Darling, do you not like the food? Need me to get someone to serve you something else?”

“No, it's fine,” you say, coughing a little, “the food is great.”

“Really? You barely look like you've eaten anything off that plate,” a third voice joins. You turn around to see it's Woozi’s assistant from the other day. He is chuckling as he adds, “or is it that you are rather too hungry for your husband instead?”

Your cheeks burn red, eyes widening as you were caught off-guard. Woozi kicks his leg under the table, “Shut up, Soonyoung. It's her first day, don't harass her already.”

Soonyoung grins at that, muffling his laugh as he continues to tease Woozi. 

You think of how Woozi seemed to be close to everyone who worked under him. First the call with Jeonghan, and now play-fighting with his assistant, Soonyoung – as if they were all his siblings or something. Are they? You wonder momentarily, but it doesn't seem so with how different all three of them look.

It was rare for mob bosses to be this friendly with the men under them. You remember your father not even knowing his own personal assistant’s name till two years after she began working with him. Seeing Woozi be all boyish and chummy with his subordinates was a pleasant sight to look at. 

Your attention was snatched when your skirt was tugged, a small weight pressured on your thighs as a little hand reached to your plate to grab pieces of fried chicken. You looked to your side to see a young girl, about five years old, stealing the only food you liked from your plate, hoisting herself up by a hand on your skirt.

She looked at you, making eye contact, and stared at you with her big eyes for a few seconds, gasping softly. She quickly took a run, circling behind you to climb and sit on Woozi’s lap, making the latter laugh as she hid her face in his chest. Without realising, you find yourself smile at the adorable sight.

“Jisu-ya!” Woozi mused, putting a hand behind the little girl’s back to steady her on his lap. 

Your breath hitched for a second, your smile tightening. You should have thought about this, the idea of your husband having illegitimate kids. It was not hard to think a rich young and handsome man like Woozi would like to go around sleeping with women, some of whom may bore his children willingly or unwillingly. If anything, you were rather surprised that Woozi would let his illegitimate children in his house, letting them run and roam around freely. Most men of his position wouldn't even bother looking at the woman twice after the night.

“Why are you shy now, hm? Weren't so shy when you stole food from my wife, hm?” Woozi mused. He turned to look at you, “sorry, my little thief stole some of your food. Do you want me to get some more for you?”

You shook your head politely, “it's fine. She can have more of it if she likes it.”

You are aware of the young girl's state on you as she tugs Woozi’s shirt. You watch curiously as she whispers something into his ear, making him chuckle. 

“Why don't you tell her yourself?” 

The girl shakes her head,looking almost petrified as she looked between you and Woozi with big eyes. You almost think you accidentally scared the poor girl or something but then woozi ruffles her hair and looks at you, “Jisu-ya thinks you are very beautiful.”

A smile creeps up your face, cheeks tinting red as you lightly place a hand over your chest, “why, thank you, young lady. You look just gorgeous tonight as well.”

Jisu giggles and beams at you, her shyness thawing at you. You took her effortlessly in your lap when she threw her arms at you. You watch Woozi’s face softening at the interaction. It somehow makes you feel better for some reason. You do not perceive the child coldly as any new wife may be to her husband’s illegitimate children. You do not find it the child’s fault for it anyways, there was no use being harsh to kid who didn’t deserve it. 

Jisu steals more treats from your plate and you let her. If anything, it’s getting your plate cleaner, because you wouldn’t have liked leaving leftover on your plate in someone else’s house. Its you house now too, a voice i your head reminds you.

After the dinner is done with, woozi leads you to two women, “they will be your maids to help you around in the house. Follow them, they’ll show you the way to your room.”

You watch your husband leave to talk with more of his men and your chest feels a little heavy. You follow the two ladies – one young, maybe in her late teens, and the other older, old enough to resemble the former’s mother – to your room. 

The room is big, a little bigger than yours but only so big a bedroom should get. There is a big bed in the center, made neatly with pink and white sheets and comforters and pillows. Its not decorated the way you have seen wedding beds to be typically decorated for the first night – with white sheets and rose petals and curtains framing around it – but you don’t think too much about it.

“Maam, you may get comfortable and change your dress. The bathroom is from this door, if you would like a bath. I’ll prepare your night clothes and keep them ready by the time you get done,” the older woman says. You feel a bit embarrassed at being called ma’am by someone so much older to you and being given the princess treatment like that. You nodded briefly, before entering the bathroom.

The bathroom was spacious too, you found it easy to take off your dress without needing assistance. You folded it and kept it neatly in what you assumed to be the laundry basket, knowing no better place to keep it. You enter the shower naked, taking little time to washup the day’s tiredness. You don’t bother to take off your makeup with makeup remover as you normally would and instead just scrub soap over your face in the hope of getting it all off quicker.

You hear the bathroom door opening and closing briefly in the shower. You are not afraid of being exposed since the shower walls are frosted and fogged up. When you turn off the shower and get out, you realise it must have been one of the maids, since the laundry basket is gone and a warm fresh-from-drier towel has replaced the older on the counter. You wrap your body in the towel and exit the bathroom, walking into the adjoining closet. You dry your limbs and look at your clothes already having been arranged on the hangers. Its not the way you arrange your clothes, but its not too bad so you dont fuss about it. 

You choose to wear a pink silky slip night dress. You don’t know how your husband would take you tonight, but you want to make yourself look presentable enough when he does. 

When you walk out of the closet, you see Woozi already sitting on your bed, his back faxing you, scrolling through his phone. At the sound of you, he looks back, smiles. You almost couldn’t believe he was still wearing that mask, even after changing into his own pajamas. Is he going to sleep wearing that?

You coyly make your way to the bed beside him. “Hi,” you say, a little awkwardly.

“Hey, wife,” woozi muses. His eyes flick up and down, taking a peek at your dress before moving his gaze back up to your eyes. “Tell me, do you like the house?”

You’ve barely seen any of it, but you decide to humor your husband, “it's nice.”

“You looked beautiful today, y’know.”

“Thank you, so did you.”

There was a small silence before you decided to speak a bit of your mind, “if you don’t mind me asking … why do you wear that mask all the time?”

“To conceal my face of course,” Woozi says nonchalantly, “if everyone knew how i looked, it would be easy to trap me in some way. This way, I can also be my own person apart from being woozi, a gangster.”

“Oh,” you nod. It did make sense to do so. You wanted to ask him if he’d take his mask off tonight. If he’d ever take off his mask in front of you. Or would you be married with his mask for the rest of your life.

It seemed as if woozi had somehow heard your thoughts, as he continued, “i’ll show my wife my face, of course. Not tonight, not yet. But soon.” he says as he reaches to push your hair away from your face before continuing, “though don;t be so excited about it. You husband is not the most handsome person behind this mask.”

You barely think so, with his eyes and mouth as beautiful. Unless, of course, there is something alienistic about the covered part of his face.

He leans closer to you, and you embrace yourself to be kissed on your lips. Instead, Woozi places a chaste kiss on your cheek, staying there as he whispers, “You must be tired, pretty girl. You should go to sleep, and take some rest.”

He pulls away so fast after that, you barely register it before he has walked out of the room. You feel dumbfounded as you hover your finger over the spot you were kissed on your cheek, feeling some heat creep up your neck.

#svt #seventeen #svt smut #svt x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #woozi smut #woozi fluff #svt fluff #lee jihoon #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #jihoon fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #jeomghan #hoshi #seungcheol #mingyu #wonwoo #joshua #jun #the8 #dk

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART V

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone! i know i owe you guys SO MUCH so here's a short lil chapter to quench your thirst. more on the way i promise!!! btw this isn't proofread so if u spot any mistakes hit me up. happy reading (or not cause the angst won once again besties, sorry in advance) <3

August 23rd, 2019 

Anaheim, California

You thought that having a shot of tequila would take off the edge of anxiety that had you shaking in your seat, but there you were taking another one, and the tingling in your hands still hadn’t ceased. "Want another?" Renata asked, a bottle in hand and a glint of worry in her eyes as she noticed your unsteady movements. You shook your head; you wouldn't risk it with a third. She waited until the hair and makeup team left the room before putting a hand on your shoulder, the cold of her ring pressing into your skin. "You want to talk about it?"

"It's just nerves," you mumbled, toying with your fingers, trying to brush off her concern. But Renata wasn't convinced, her gaze piercing through your facade. "Is it because of—" she said before you cut her off.

"No," you interrupted firmly, not wanting to dive into that topic. Renata nodded, understanding your reluctance. She simply squeezed your shoulder in silent support, knowing damn well what it was about. As she started to lead you out of the room, you continued. "We haven't seen each other in months."

There it is.

"And the last time we talked, he basically told me he didn't want to do anything with me." Renata's eyes softened; her empathy evident. "He didn't say that," she murmured, her grip on your shoulder tightening.

Your eyes met hers, filled with anger and confusion. "He did. He slept with me and then decided that was it." Renata's expression turned grim as she guided you out of the halls and onto the red carpet. She knew there was more to it than what you were letting on, but who was she to pry?

She faced you while gently fixing your hair as you continued. "But I'm with someone else now, and I'm happy, and I just need to get my shit together." Renata nodded. "You deserve to be happy and move on from this," she said softly.

The chatter of everyone on the carpet and the click of cameras surrounded you both, louder than before. "It'll be just a couple of interviews and photos now. After that, you and—" she hesitated.

"It's okay, you can say his name, Ren."

"You and Pedro will be taken into a photo studio for the official portraits," Renata finished. "Let's just make this quick and painless."

"I can assure you this will be everything except quick and painless," you replied with a forced smile, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. "But I appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood." She mouthed sorry for a moment before leading you both towards the line of press, where the bright lights and flashing cameras awaited. As you stepped into position to talk to the reporters, you reminded yourself to take a deep breath and stay composed, knowing that it would be okay.

•••

It was, in fact, not okay.

The groan that escaped your lips and the rolling of your eyes were unavoidable. You'd managed to stay clear of him for as long as you could—a complete victory by your standards—and now, with only seconds before you escaped, the very man you had tried to evade appeared before you.

Being within meters of him now, all those firsts, lasts, and never agains were as sharp and vivid as they'd ever been, forming a knot of unease in your chest that made breathing difficult. You hadn't spoken yet, both preoccupied with the rush of media attention surrounding you.

Nonetheless, you took quick glances at him whenever you could.

"Time for the portraits," Renata whispered, as you finished talking to a reporter for the LA Times. "Looking forward to seeing the show!" you nodded, trying to keep your smile in place as you followed Renata. It was a small room with bright lights and a white backdrop, but all you could focus on was the man standing across from you, getting his hair touched up by a stylist. Your own team hovered around you, adjusting your outfit and makeup, but your eyes kept drifting back to him.

The photographer introduced herself, and you were instructed to stand in the middle of the backdrop. You looked each other up and down. God, he looked good, you thought. And then you cursed yourself. Your groan at the sight of him was barely audible, but Renata shot you a knowing look.

"You kinda stole my look," he said, raising an eyebrow. The audacity of this man was infurating. How dare he, after what happened, address you so casually, like nothing has changed between you two?

"Hm, no, you kinda stole my look," you retorted, no emotion in your voice. The tension between you was palpable as the photographer began snapping photos, capturing the silent competition between you two. He was wearing a floral shirt that perfectly complemented your own outfit—a corset-like black top with floral details and black dress pants. However, one little detail caught your eye: the shiny gold chain decorating his neck.

Stop, don't go there. It suddenly became necessary to wash away the awful thought that little piece of jewelry was attractive in the slightest and that cold shower and glass of wine you had been looking forward to at home would now have to happen—but instead of a glass, it would be a whole bottle.

"Okay guys, now let's take some shots pretending to laugh together," the photographer suggested, breaking the tension. You both shared a forced smile, trying to outdo each other in the fake laughter department. "And get closer, please," she added, gesturing for you to move in towards each other. As you leaned in, you couldn't help but notice the faint scent of his cologne. "Pedro, put your arm around her waist," the photographer instructed, prompting Pedro to look down on you.

"Can I?" he asked, ever so politely. The question transported you to a room in Chile, where the tips of his fingers were under your shorts and your mouths were enticingly close.

Stop, stop, stop.

"Sure, whatever," you replied, trying to shake off the memories flooding back. Pedro hesitated for a moment before standing behind you and gently placing his arm around your waist—a moment of unexpected intimacy as your hand followed and rested on top of his. The photographer snapped the picture just as you forced another smile, masking the turmoil within.

"Are we done?" Pedro asked, his voice rumbling in your ear. Despite his complaints, he enjoyed doing photoshoots. They catered to his need to show off.

"Yes, we have everything we need. Thanks guys!"

Both of you quickly separated, relieved to put some distance between yourselves. You didn't say another word as you both gathered your things and headed out of the studio, tension lingering in the air, unsure of what would come next and hating every second of the awkwardness that now hung between you.

•••

The D23 Expo was not turning out to be the fun experience you had hoped for. You've been sitting in the panel room with the rest of the cast and crew for about half an hour, actively avoiding eye contact with the source of your anxiety. Dave was talking about what a huge honor it is to continue his Star Wars journey with a live action series, having previously only worked on animated projects. Jon followed suit, expressing his excitement for the opportunity to develop the series on a more cinematic scale.

Everyone was buzzing with enthusiasm, but you.

"Now I'm going to give the floor to the fans for any questions," the moderator announced, turning towards the crowd with a smile. A teenager in the front row was handed a microphone, anticipation rippling through the audience as she prepared to ask her question.

"Hi, my name's Sarah, and I just wanted to say how thrilled I am for this new series. I am a huge fan of Star Wars, and pretty much everyone here," she said, "especially you and Pedro," gesturing towards you and finally asking the question you've successfully avoided answering all night. "I know you've been friends for a long time. Can you share any behind-the-scenes stories from filming, and how was it working together on this project?"

"Oh, they have a lot. These two were menaces on set," Jon interjected, eliciting laughter from the audience. You exchanged a knowing glance with Pedro before sharing a bright smile with the girl. "I think Jon is specifically referring to the time I broke Pedro's nose and ended up in the hospital."

The audience erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, clearly entertained by the unexpected revelation as you continued to recount the hilarious mishap. "But yeah, overall, it was definitely a fun and memorable experience working together. We had some great times on set, despite the occasional injury," you added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, she's a brilliant scene partner; I wouldn't change a thing about it," Pedro chimed in, nodding in agreement. If you didn't know better, you would think he actually meant it. The girl beamed at the two of you, clearly enjoying the interaction between you and Pedro, oblivious to the fact that you couldn't wait to get out of there and never see him again.

The moderator intervened, clearly interested in picking up more about the dynamics. "Now that it's been brought up, I was one of the few people who got to see the first episode yesterday, and I have to say there's a lot of on-screen chemistry between the two of you. Is it possible that a romantic relationship will develop in future episodes?"

The answer escaped from your lips instantly. "Not that we can confirm or deny anything at this point, but I think that these characters are very different and have a complex relationship that will continue to evolve as the series progresses, and maybe they work better as friends or allies rather than romantically involved." The moderator nodded, satisfied with the somewhat vague response.

Pedro's eyes caught yours, puzzled by the subtle shift in your tone, before adding, "But I wouldn't rule that out completely."

He was so infuriatingly annoying.

•••

You were in the same room; circling each other the entire day, but he still missed you so much that a brief moment of broken eye contact sent a deep ache cutting through his chest.

Pedro watched you exit the panel room, knowing that he needed to find a way to talk to you. He called your name, making you stop in your tracks and turn around, your face unreadable. Pedro hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach you, before finally blurting out, "Hey, do you have a sec?"

He saw you reluctantly give your PA a nod, motioning for her to leave the both of you alone.

Pedro felt tension slip through him and iron in his spine, and he looked around swiftly to see if anyone was paying attention to them. He spotted a door leading to an empty room and gestured for you to follow him inside. As you both entered the room, Pedro closed the door behind you.

This conversation is inevitable.

Pedro waited for a moment before speaking. "We're working together, and will continue to do so."

"So?" your voice was cold and guarded.

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I think we should try to find a way to make it work."

"I think it's working well enough as it is," you replied, crossing your arms. Pedro couldn't help but laugh at your stubbornness. "Come on, we both know that's not true. You've avoided me all day. People are asking if things are okay between us."

"Isn't that what you wanted, though?"

Pedro shook his head. "What? I never said that."

"You might as well have," you spat back. "Because the way I see it, you don't want anything to do with me." He wanted to reach out, grab your hand and tell you that's not all what he meant but he stopped.

You are being so careful with each other now. It was breaking Pedro’s heart a little.

"That's not true. It drives me crazy when you won’t talk to me,” he muttered. "I…just didn't want to complicate things back then."

"Well, things got complicated the moment we slept together," you reminded him. "And that's on both of us."

Pedro sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry… I didn't handle that conversation very well. I was…" he can't bring himself to finish the sentence. "I don't know."

"You have a tendency of hurting my feelings, disappearing, and then coming back asking for forgiveness," your words come out measured and unexpectedly calm. Bordering on cold.

It was such a sharp, perfect little sting that it made heat pool in his stomach. It made him want to cry.

He said your name ever so tenderly, a plea in his voice.

"I don't know what you want from me," you say, a defeated tone lacing your words. "I moved on, and yet, you keep coming back, reopening old wounds. It happens every time. I can't keep doing this dance with you."

"Yeah, you moved on," and before he can stop himself, Pedro blurts out, dripping in sarcasm, "Quite fast."

Pedro still remembers the shiver that ran down his spine when he picked up his phone one morning, only to see you parading around with Daniel on social media. The worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his response. He could tell it echoed through the small space and grated on your every last nerve.

"Fuck you."

A snarl forms on his face, and his upper lip slightly curls. His anger rising to match your own. "Is that all you have to say?" Pedro's voice is laced with bitterness as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. Your eyes burning through him, the air suffocating.

"I had to move on," you simply reply. "You should try it as well." you slipped past him, bumping into his shoulder as you made your way out of the room, leaving him there, trying to remember why he had convinced himself that everything was safer this way because you were too important to risk losing, when in reality, he had already lost you.

And Pedro tries not to love you. He really tries.

a/n: don't kill me please, i know. their time will come, i just need them to reaaaally go through it.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it! thank you for reading :)

#love is complicated #thank you so much everyone for the support mwah #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on. 

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes. 

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t. 

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question. 

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge. 

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money. 

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant. 

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best. 

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages. 

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise. 

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks. 

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved. 

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop. 

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice. 

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams. 

Today was not that day. 

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume. 

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker. 

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath. 

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t. 

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris. 

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex. 

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore. 

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room. 

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans. 

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while. 

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers. 

Had he caught you staring? 

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground. 

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin. 

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin. 

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense. 

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized. 

You refused to give him one. 

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation. 

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth. 

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.” 

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him. 

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you. 

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels. 

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision. 

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it. 

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry. 

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind. 

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly. 

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August. 

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open. 

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie. 

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo. 

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance. 

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy. 

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make. 

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you. 

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence. 

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest. 

Eddie. 

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high. 

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile. 

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have. 

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating. 

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home. 

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence. 

I can pay you back. 

I can’t believe you did this for me. 

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character. 

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer. 

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts. 

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip. 

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend. 

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward. 

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.” 

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry. 

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors. 

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark. 

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school. 

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it. 

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades. 

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation. 

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you. 

Let go. Let go. Let. Go. 

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment. 

Hi. 

You pressed back with an accompanying smile. 

Hi. 

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WHO’S GONNA KNOW YOU? (ME.)

↳ the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . the tortured poets department (taylor swift)

an SHES BACKKK!!!!! anw the song isn’t really their vibe i just got that line from there in case anyone was wondering!

you and jason have been through a lot together

from meeting in high school under the pouring rain, when he was the captain of jupiter high’s football team and you were just the new girl who transferred all the way from new york in an attempt to escape your past, to eventually dating, graduating high school and university and moving into your first apartment, it was safe to say neither one of you was going anywhere

which was why it was only natural for jason to propose to you eventually. if he could’ve had it his way, the two of you would’ve been married as soon as you threw your graduation caps up at the sky, but he he had to be patient. marriage was serious (jason knew this all too well, having seen how his own mother’s marriages turned out) and he wanted the two of you to be fully settled into your new lives outside of school before starting your journey as mr and mrs grace

so, he bided his time. he focused on his career, wanting to build the perfect life for the two of you in the future, getting into an nfl team right after university and beginning to write his own book only a year later. he also focused on your career, maybe a little more than his own - he couldn’t help it, his love for you transcended the heavens themselves and he couldn’t be prouder of you for growing into the woman you currently are

since he loved you so dearly, jason’s first ever book was obviously going to be written about you. more specifically, your story and how you brought life into jason’s existence the moment your destinies intertwined. said first ever book was also finally going to be published in a week, and with the two of you being at the height of all aspects of life, there was no better time for jason to pop the question

he made a special copy just for you, with a note written at the end, and asked you to read it, feigning uncertainty about his writing despite having gone over it with his editors several times. how could you say no to those sweet, baby blue eyes?

every time jason saw you reading his book, he felt his heart beat faster at the knowledge of what was at the very end of it. he’d already asked you to let him know when you got close to the end as according to him, there was a part he had to see your reaction to (not a complete lie, for jason could never lie to you). it only took you three days to reach the final chapter out of excitement for what jason could’ve written

“okay, i’m gonna read it now…” you said, a grin on your face as you reached for the book on your bedside table. jason sat to you on your bed, a velvet box with the ring of your dreams sitting prettily in the pocket of his sweatpants. he bit his lip, trying his hardest to calm his nerves down

this didn’t go unnoticed by you. looking up to see him in his state, your brows furrowed and you scooted closer to your soon to be fiancé, delicately cupping his head with your hand, “hey, i’m sure it’ll be really good, you’re a natural at writing, jase!” you gave him a soft smile and didn’t continue reading until he nodded and smiled back

the last chapter was short and nearly brought you to tears, but what really started the waterworks was the note written at the end

y/n, i have loved you from the moment i saw the smile on your face when i offered to walk you home under my umbrella. you may not know this, but i actually lived in the complete opposite direction to your home at the time, and i didn’t get home until the sun set that day. however, i couldn’t be happier. as i lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling of my room, i realized i’d walk to the ends of the earth if it meant i’d get to see your smile. no one has known me the way you do, and i don’t think anyone ever will, my very heart and soul belong to you and you alone. so, will you let me do the honours of becoming your husband and spending the rest of eternity going wherever you go?

PS. this isn’t actually getting published. it’s too intimate of a moment for me to do so, and i know we’d both hate it

PPS. if you don’t want to get married, i understand

your smile was wobbly as you looked at jason through tear-filled eyes. your sweet jason, who was currently tearing up himself as he presented the most gorgeous wedding ring to you

putting the book aside, you jumped into his arms and peppered his face with kisses, your tears mixing with his own as you did so. pulling away, you said, “of course i’ll marry you, jason! you’re an idiot for that last comment,” the two of you laughed then, and, finally having released your energy, you lay in bed with your head on jason’s chest and his arms wrapped around your waist

placing a kiss on the top of your head, jason grinned at you and said, “well, i’m your idiot now, aren’t i, smartiepants?”

“you’ve always been my idiot, silly,” you replied, a sigh of pure joy escaping your lips. despite the anticipation of the new journey you and jason were beginning together, the two of you found sleep immediately, dreaming of each other under the moonlit sky

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #pjo fanfic #jason grace drabble #jason grace blurb #cynwrites #˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ jj & smartiepants

[dawnoftime22]

"and all the things I didn't do."

| W.M -> N.R

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 10

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, drinking, alcohol, mental breakdown, and a very short moment of a creep approaching R in a bar scene.

Summary: Hanging out at the gentle redhead's apartment for a while was fun, but what happens when you happen to encounter something that makes you drop everything and fall apart?

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 5.7k

Category: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

A/N: this was...definitely supposed to be longer, but I didn't get to finish half of it, aaand it would have a lot more things to unpack soooo, I'm gonna have to separate it into another chapter... have fun tho!<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 31/05/2024, 8:15 AM |

| Finished on 06/05/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 9

"Yours were the hand I danced with."

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Her arm slips around your waist. In the dead of night with the streets empty, your felt her body leaning in closer, up until your lips meet for a soft, tender kiss.

For a short moment, that was it. Your heart stuttered and you couldn't help but return the gentle gesture within seconds.

When you slowly pulled back, the two of you were quiet, but she ended up only smirking and turning back to her apartment's door to unlock it. Your lips were parted as you were left to reel your mind over what had happened.

But with the door open in front of you, leading right to the home of the redhead who just gave you an entire day to remember along with the tingle of her action, you inhale a deep breath and move to walk in.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The morning came with you waking up on the couch, a yawn escaping your mouth as you sat up. Your mind was still tkaing in that you were in Nat's apartment, sitting in borrowed clothing.

You groggily get off the couch, standing up to stretch. The front door opens with a click, capturing your attention in a quick second.

Nat was revealed from behind the door, wearing her jogging outfit and holding what seemed to be a brown paper bag that had you tilting your head curiously.

Her green eyes traveled to you as she took off her shoes, saying a gentle "Hey," before returning her keys back to her pocket and closing the front door.

The fact that she had even come from the front door and not the bedroom surprised you further really, she hadn't made a single sound that was loud enough to wake you. Unless you were that deep in sleep. She was like a cat, padding its quiet paws.

Speaking of, there was a black, slim cat sitting perched up at a nearby window. It had been laying there, silently resting. You wouldn't have noticed it if not for the sunlight, making itself visible from the shadows...or the yellow eyes that would often reveal themselves, scanning the room for any threats.

Nat walked across the room, making her way to the kitchen and setting down the paper bag before rolling it open and peeking inside to make sure all the contents she got was in there.

While she was there, she also grabbed a glass of water, drinking it and rehydrating herself from her small running session that also included an extra part of going to a bakery somewhere. You watched her quietly, a small smile raising on your lips.

"I got you some croissant and some sausage rolls." Her voice was calm as it sounded out through the space. She grabs a sausage roll out, gesturing it slightly as she talked and took a bite out of it.

"If you like them, that is. If not, then you can just leave them on the table." She grabs the paper bag once more and sat down next to you, putting it in front of you. Your eyes stared at it for a moment, but with your raised lips you grab one sausage roll too.

"I'll try some." She watches as you take a bite, staring for a moment before getting her attention pulled by the black cat, sneakily and curiously walking closer by the couch.

Thank god for it, or she might have just stared a moment too longer. You in the meanwhile, hummed in delightment, the little treat hitting your taste buds in all the right ways.

"These are delicious," you said, now grabbing a croissant and trying it, making sure not to accidentally get any crumbs on the couch. It was faint, but there was the smallest smile on her face as she leaned back.

"Have you texted your friend?" Nat asks, getting the tv remote while her cat jumped up in her lap, almost blending in with her black joggers.

You check your phone, seeing the messages Kate sent you...along with a winky face. You had to hold back from rolling your eyes at her or shaking your head, knowing she's probably doing it just to make you stay longer.

"Mm. Yeah, she's still not home. She said she'll be back home at 2 pm." You turned off your phone and set it aside, continuing to eat the food in your hands.

"For now, I'm stuck with you," you said, nearly in a whisper. Your head turned to look at the redhead once more, her hands going through the fur of the small cat friend in her lap as you had talked.

"Well, I don't have anything to do, so..." she tilts her head, her gaze slowly traveling to you. When she looks back at the tv, you raised your eyebrows, but get comfortable on the couch anyways, choosing a movie with her.

Within the few minutes of the movie, you stared at her side profile. She was so beautiful, focused on the movie. Your mind couldn't help but drift back off to last night's memory-- Down in the dark cold streets, where lips touched with warmth. And last night...You hadn't spoken about it at all, as if it was something you dreamt when you slept in the car. And you were about to think it was a dream.

Your thoughts were bothered by the black cat stretching over to meet you, moving to curl up beside you on the couch, making you blink.

Hesitantly, you reach out to pet it, first letting it sniff your hand gently before it obliged and relaxed, making you slowly rest your hand upon it. The yellow eyes closed, and you almost feel its head tilting to lean into your hand.

"Does it have a name?" You asked, making Nat look to you, taking her eyes off the screen of the tv. The fur was soft, running against your skin like nothing.

"Liho," she said gently and simply, but now she couldn't look away. The sight of you so close to her small friend had her heart beating a little faster and swelling up. You hum, continuing to gently pet Liho's head, eliciting small purrs from its throat.

A sudden sound of an explosion came from the movie, Nat having set an action movie on, getting her attention back on the story and causing both you and Liho to snap your heads towards the sound.

Time goes by like this, all three of you, comfortable on the couch with no interruptions...almost.

As your focus drifted off, the scene being quiet with aimless talking, your eyes skimmed around the space. As you do, you notice a camera she's left on the small table, just beside you.

While she was very much into the movie and distracted, you gently grabbed the device, your fingertips brushing against the metal. It clicked on with a slide, the screen showing a high quality view of wherever you pointed it.

Gently, your teeth bit into your lower lip, and you smiled, sneakily taking a picture of Nat from the side, the screen momentarily flashing black, an indication that it processed it successfully.

At the first shot, she didn't notice, but then in the corner of her vision, she realizes you were holding something up and pointing it at her, until she sees that it was her camera in your hands.

The smallest smile raised up on her lips, and you were fast to grab a picture of that too. She heard the click, the quiet scene in the movie making it all the more obvious.

"Stop!" she lightly said with a chuckle, looking to you. You had already taken another shot, smiling cheekily at the camera screen while her cheeks dusted pink.

You put the camera down with a small giggle, and Nat quickly grabbed it to put it away from you. She was looking at the screen, possibly deleting the photos, but you couldn't tell.

Nonetheless, you went back to watching the movie, your hand mindlessly going through Liho's fur. At times you play around with the cat, its paws gently touching your skin.

As you were absolutely lost in the story playing on the tv, she holds up the camera and pushes down on the button, successfully capturing a photo of you and Liho, unbeknownst to you.

"I got you!" She exclaimed with her own giggle, looking proudly at the still moment sitting in the screen.

You looked at her and smiled, shaking your head at how determined she was to get you back.

After hours later, you managed to get back to Kate's apartment, settling back into bed with a content sigh from the day with Nat.

Your sleep was peaceful, and the day after that too, your walk nearly having a gentle jump in it from how...better everything somehow seemed.

You were walking back to the apartment, having went to grab a hot chocolate from the local cafe and just simply going for a walk.

But a touch of a hand on your shoulder had you turning around, your eyes widening as you took a step back.

You thought to see someone you've seen in the past days. Or a stranger tapping for something you might have dropped.

But...of course. After all this time. You should have expected it would happen someday.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize it isn't an illusion. Green eyes stared at you, not with red hair but with brown hair. The piercing round eyes a clear contrast to the calm almond shaped eyes you got used to.

"Y/N...Hi," her voice comes out. This was a dream. You had to be dreaming. What else could have been happening? Your breath got caught on nothing but your very own air.

"Wha--...What are you doing here?" You said. The volume of your words were faint, your face obvious that you were at a complete loss as to how she had just randomly showed up.

"I..." She seemed like she didn't have a reason at all, as if she was here for nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at her, your shoulder getting brushed by a stranger this time, which had you stepping aside to let people have more space to walk in.

"I thought to grab myself a vacation." And out of all the places she chose, it was New York, you thought. She was holding a plastic container in her hand, inside, being some cake rolls.

"And...I wanted to talk to you." Ah. She chose it with the knowledge that you were here. Even better. You sighed softly, diverting your gaze to the concrete floor. It took everything in you to not simply walk away and not deal with this situation at all.

She bit her lip and swallowed down her nervous feelings, but it had no help as you look back at her. You still had that same gaze with her, full of softness. But it also had drops of sadness.

"How did you know where I was?" You asked. You haven't posted anything in ages, and Kate hasn't had you in a photo or vieeo of her instagram story.

Wanda looks down for a moment, taking in a deep breath. You shifted your weight to your other leg, slipping your hand in your pockets.

"...You forgot to turn off your location," she revealed, not making eye contact with you for a moment. You, in the meanwhile, moved your head forward for a second and raised your eyebrows.

"What?" was all you simply said, blinking. That was far of what you expected from her. You would've thought maybe she heard from Carol, or something.

“You tracked me down?” You asked straightforwardly, and her eyes widened as she shook her head quickly, defending herself of the accusation.

“No! No, it’s not like that I…Your live location on our messages. I saw it, and you didn’t turn it off," she says, through small stutters and hand gestures. You only stared at her, trying to decipher the truth.

"But I didn't...follow you here like a stalker, I swear." She sighed, having hoped the conversation was going to start differently when she saw you.

"So you just happened to run into me?" Your shoulders went up slightly as you said your sentence, lost on how to make sense of the situation.

"It's not a lie," she said simply, and you couldn't have it in yourself to really trust her, though at this point, you didn't even care to know how she found you anymore.

You pressed your lips together, looking off to the streets. It went quiet for a moment, as if the heat of the flame that died months ago was sparking up again, and it definitely wasn't the light of love.

"I just...” She starts, running her hand through her hair for a moment as she gathered herself together to speak with you.

"I miss you. And I still love you." The words came out like a flowing river, but the second you heard the words, you were trying to hold your eyes from becoming a river themselves.

"Wanda, don't..." Your voice was quiet, teary almost. You had taken a small step back, and Wanda kept her eyes on you, hoping you weren't going to walk away all at once, leading to her losing you completely.

“I was wrong. I didn’t—“ She tried continuing, her own eyes filling with tears, but you cut her off, shaking your head.

"You can't just say that." You had spiked back, and it was cutting her heart further, but its true. You didn't want to hear any more, yet she wanted to do the opposite.

"I'm sorry..." She gazed down at the sidewalk, slowly losing her resolve. You didn't look at her at all, and it was obvious your heart might crumble if she continhed any further.

The open space was loud with unspoken words. And a car honking...and people's footsteps. You were in the middle of the street, it wasn't exactly the best place to have a conversation like this.

She had realized how precious you were to her only after you were gone. She was the one who had stopped giving, lost her will to keep it alive simply because she couldn't tell if her heart still wanted you.

"...But I need you." She said, looking up at you once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. You didn't want to hurt her, but there was no easy way to settle this down.

"You cheated on me." You said, your tone nearly sharp and your volume just a little loud. Some people passing by seemed to have turned their heads, and you noted to try and keep your calm. Wanda took a deep breath, her mind only acting on nothing but impulse.

"We were on a break." At that, you had to bite your tongue, your face losing any color it had left. The second she finished her sentence, she regretted it and she paused, completely shutting her mouth as she realized what she said.

You swallowed back some words, your mind going over just how much she had left you broken. Was that what that was? Could she have wanted a break so the two of you could process your feelings properly or just so she could have an excuse? Whatever happened to that girl she was with? Had she found out too, and broke it off with her?

"A break doesn't mean we weren't still together," you whispered shakily. The conversation was a mess, and you were sure you'll go into a downward spiral as soon as you get into Kate's apartment.

"Please, I'm really sorry. I'd never do it again, and if I could, I would change how everything happened." You couldn't believe it. She was begging for you to take her back-- The silenced reply she had given you when you left.

"I am not having this conversation with you." You said, desperately needing to end this when you still could while she, needed you.

"I get it, but...it's over. I'm sorry." She was too late. It had been months before, where she left you lost and confused and now its been months after you had broken up.

Wanda went quiet, processing your words and how much you truly did not want her back anymore. You swore you saw her lip tremble for just a mere moment, and your heart ached at the sight.

She wanted so badly. So, so badly to keep in touch with you at least, but both of you knew it would only lead to bad news.

"Okay," she nods slowly, a small tear escaping the corner of her eye that she quickly wiped away, definitely not wanting to appear crying at the side of the street.

"I won't bother you anymore." She said sincerely and quietly. You clenched your jaw. It felt like a void altogether once again. Your heart pointed to her but your mind knew better.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You had to hold back a choked sob, slowly turning around to continue your path that was interrupted long ago.

"...Bye." She whispered under her breath, and you had just barely heard it from behind you, mixed with many other noises.

You kept walking forward, kept your hands in your pockets, trying your best to blink back your tears as you sniffled. You were sure your nose was red, and it wasn't from the freezing temperatures.

If you hadn't met the redhead you knew now, maybe you had considered going back to her. Maybe. But you couldn't bare to go through it again, the nights spent waiting for her to come home or when she would brush you off.

You don't remember how many times you've gone to Nat's apartment or met her anymore. But who's counting anyway? She didn't have any bad traits so far, so you wouldn't have a reason to stop. It's been months since the breakoff with Wanda, until she showed up again earlier.

You sighed and ran your hands over your face, finally arriving to the front of Kate's apartment. You went in, not greeted by the sound of clinking coming from a dog's collar but with the sight of Kate in the kitchen, making...brownies?

The golden retriever was napping, possibly getting bored of waiting for you to come back or was tired of watching over Kate, making sure she did the recipe right. And also interested, since she rarely ever did cook.

"Hey," Kate looked up from her mixture, hearing you open the door and close it, kicking your shoes off. Her eyes flickered from you and the bowl.

"Hey." You said simply and quietly back with a small wave of your hand, not wondering what she was doing, or barely even looking at her as you padded off to your room.

Odd. Kate watches you go with her eyebrows slowly furrowing in concern. She'll note to ask you about it later, for now counting it as maybe you having a bad day and needing space.

You gently shut the door behind you, resting your back and your head against it. Your breath quickly hitches and you gasp, a choked sob finally leaving your lips quietly as you closed your eyes.

You slid down against the door, curling up on the floor with your legs close to your body. It was no surprise you'd be here, having a mental breakdown when the sudden appearance of someone you thought you'd never see again happened.

Salty liquid ran down from your nose, mixing with your tears, and you try wiping it away with your hands, but it didn't give anything. It was all unending.

Tomorrow it was evening. You had fallen into bed messily last night and now you were still laid down in bed. Of course, you had treated yourself to your needed meals properly, with Kate gently scolding you and urging you to get out your room.

It was quiet as you mindlessly went through your phone, your body weak on the soft mattress that held you.

You were getting bored, that was for sure. Laying in bed being in a void for hours. You could watch a movie in the living room, cook...or go out and have some fresh air, but with what had happened yesterday, that was the last thing you wanted to do now.

Then an idea popped up in your head, and you thought it over. it wasn't the best idea, but to you, you had nothing better to do.

You were there again, in Nat's messages, opening it so you could type a sentence to her.

Hey, wanna hang out at a bar somewhere later?

You don't expect her to accept, and you almost don't want her to, knowing you'll probably only make yourself feel worse. But there's no turning back now.

Nat was surprised when she got the message, her eyebrows raising for a moment. You weren't always that bold to straight up ask to go out, but she was free, simply sitting at her desk with Liho in her lap as she sorted out some papers.

Sure.

She replied simply, not asking questions other than the planned time and where you'll meet, thinking you were simply wanting some fun.

She didn't know why she was still meeting you. She never liked to do...anything with anyone, yet you somehow caught her eyes. Maybe it was the fact you bumped into each other, but that help of hers with the umbrella was...intentional. She could have gone to any other person, but she saw you.

You got up and out of bed, getting the energy to go to your closet and picking out a set of clothes to wear.

Once you had changed, you made sure your phone and keys were in your pockets befoee you peek out your room. You find the space to be empty, and Kate's bedroom door closed. She was asleep, probably.

You went out the apartment quietly, making sure not even a creak was heard with how aware Lucky was of his surroundings.

Since your car was indeed...still at the airport way over in another state, you had to call a cab, getting it to bring you to the bar. The drive was short, but peaceful. There was light rain, enough to make it colder, but not necessary for an umbrella.

When you get out, you go to the entrance, seeing the brightly lit bar. Before going in, you looked around for a moment, seeing the sheen of shine from the rain on the street.

Then, there across from you in your vision, Nat comes out from another cab herself, fixing her signature leather jacket.

Her lips were painted red from her lipstick, and you couldn't help but stare at her appearance. When she saw you and walked closer, you blinked yourself out of staring.

"Hey, you good?" She asked, stepping in front of you, and you quickly nod, moving to let people in the bar and to go in yourself.

"Yeah. Yeah...lets go in," you said, going to go hold the door open for her. She hums and walks in with you, the bar instantly coming up with loads of noises of people talking, glasses clinking and being thudded against the wooden tables, and the tv hanging near the corner.

The two of you sat at the front bar, ordering some drinks so the night could start properly. You leaned against the wood, the seat being surprisingly comfortable as you turned to look at her.

"You look stunning tonight, you know," you said in a whisper, but she heard it, her cheeks hinting the smallest blush. Your eyes went over how the lighting portrayed her, illuminating her features perfectly.

"Thank you. You're not too far yourself." She replied. You weren't too far at all actually. It was hard for her to pull her eyes away from you, too.

When the bartender slides your drinks to you both, you grab the glass, starting to drink it while she took a few sips, her gaze locked on you.

You stifled a sigh for a moment. Your mind was still stuck on yesterday, and you have someone right next to you you could share your troubles to.

But her? You couldn't. You wouldn't. Especially with it being about your ex. And you couldn't deny this was simply a getaway to escape, how much you wanted to distract yourself from thinking about her at all, wondering how she was doing.

The two of you had your fun, getting to know each other better with small laughs and stares that lasted longer than whenever you were sober. Your insides were completely and utterly intoxicated by the drinks, getting caught up in the moment.

As the night progressed with the moon high in the sky, she couldn't help but notice how many drinks you started to grab, your words slowly starting to slur further and further in time.

"And that's enough for you," just as your glass brushed against your lips, she gently took it out your hands, your skin brushing just slightly, but you couldn't focus on that at the moment when you get surprised.

"Wha- No..." You said softly, disappointment evident in your voice as you tried to reach back for the drink, the glass still being half full, but she pulled it back.

"Mm-mm. You're already wasted," she shook her head, putting the drink down, but still out of reach from you. You pouted, your shoulders slumping, and she fought herself back from smiling, but at the same time she was concerned of your wellbeing.

Nat turns to the bartender, "Put it on my tab," she said, then pushed herself off the seat to stand and gently wrap her arm around your body, pulling you along with her so she could get out of the bar.

Before she could get to the door though, someone comes up close to you, saying, "What's someone like you doin' here?"

You scrunched your face in disgust. Even though you were very much drunk, you were aware enough to move backwards from them.

"Back off," she growled, pulling you closer to her by your waist as she gave them a deathening glare. Her grip was tight, protective, and almost possessive.

"Alright, I didn't do nothin'." The person puts their hands up and stepped back, retreating to their own place when they realized you were definitely not alone. Nat rolled her eyes and continued to get you out the bar.

With relief, she lets out a breath, the two of you stepping onto the cold sidewalks once more. The rain had disappeared, but the aftermath definitely had it being colder.

Nat grabs her phone out from her pocket, thinking to maybe call your friend Kate. She could get a cab for both of you, either sending you home safely or helping you get to her apartment.

But, when she sees your flushed face that was doozy with the toxins running in you, and the littlest of touches you give her or how you leaned to her body, she knew she couldn't trust herself to resist from you just yet. At least, from a kiss. Or anything she couldn't bare to imagine. Sure, she was far more sober than you, but she has had a couple drinks herself.

When she searches her contacts, she realizes she doesn't have Kate's number saved. Damn it. But just as she was about to give up and grab the cab, she hears your phone ringing with a call from your pocket.

You were drunkenly surprised, reaching in to grab your phone and flimsily holding it. She purses her lips and reached out to grab it from you, knowing you definitely won't have a conversation, much less, on the phone well, but also it nearly slipped out of your hands.

"Hey--" Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at her with yet another pout. Nat's heart melted, but she shushed you gently, putting up a finger to stop you from protesting.

Then, she looks at the screen, a sigh softly leaving her lips once more in relief, seeing it was Kate. She picks it up, putting it to her ear as she held you.

"Hello? Y/N?" Kate's voice came through the phone, sounding worried. You did leave her without her knowledge and didn't leave a note, but Nat didn't know that.

"Hey, it's Nat," she said naturally, making it clear it wasn't you or a stranger talking so she wasn't confused.

"Oh. O-Oh-- Sorry, am I interrupting something...?" Kate stuttered, and Nat's face heated up when she realized what Kate might be assuming, but she had enough courage in her to reply.

"No, no. We're at a bar. Um, do you think you can...come pick them up? I didn't bring my car," she said, hoping to everything Kate would say yes, as a good friend would.

"A bar? Okay, yeah, I'll...I'll be there." Nat heard keys rattling and movement, and nodded being reassured that you'll be safe home later.

"Thank you," was all she said before pulling the phone away from her ear and ending the call. Just as she did, she saw you were walking along the patterned tiles of the sidewalk, making sure your feet were in the squares and not hitting lines. It was a silly sight to say the least.

Well, that was, until you had almost slipped and fell, but her eyes widened and she quickly went forward to capture you, holding you up.

"Okay, you'll be alright, любов (love)," she said, accidentally spilling out a russian nickname from her lips, and you looked at her weirdly, awfully confused.

"You're talking funny," your words come out slurred and with a laugh, but it was understandable enough. She lets out a nearly nervous chuckle as you pointed at her with your finger.

"Am I? I think you're just drunk." She said, trying to play it off while at the same time keeping ahold of you, making sure you don't fall from your drunken state.

"No, you are. Or were..." you whispered gently, and in a way it made her heartbeat falter for a second. If only you weren't so vulnerable at the moment. She'd have confessed right then and there.

Kate's car soon pulls up to the side of the road, and not long after she arrives, her door opens and she gets out. Both you and Nat watched, your bodies visibly shuddering and trembling slightly from the coolness of the night.

"Hey, sorry if I took a while, is everything alright?" Kate said, her voice quick, and in just a bit of a panic. She knew just as much as the redhead did, but she was more worried, knowing you've had the brightest days with Nat as of late.

"Yeah, they've just...drunk a little too much." Nat purses her lips, patting your back lightly. She was concerned. Perhaps you just got stuck in the haze or just wanted to have some fun, but, even so, she wouldn't have drunk that much alcohol unless she was having a bad day.

Kate nods, going closer so she could grab ahold of you gently, starting to get you to her car. "Thank you for taking care of them," she said, looking over her shoulder as you sat in the passenger seat.

"No problem. Just get them home safe," her voice was husky, different than what Kate had thought, and she was definitely as pretty as you had made her out to be.

"I will," she reassured Nat, closing your car door and then going off to the driver's seat. Nat watched as the car started to move, her eyebrows pressured down on her eyes as her heart beated with concern for you.

As long as you were safe.

The drive home was quiet, Kate glancing over to you every now and then and seeing you doing a "whoa" to the streetlights passing by. Yup. You were going to be miserable in the morning.

When you arrive, she helps you out and into her apartment, her heart skipping beats every now and then whenever you would nearly slip from being so drunk. You were worrying the hell out of the woman, thats for sure.

"Gosh, Y/N, you need to control yourself a little," she murmured, laying you in bed, yet you fell against the sheets, parts of your body all over the place with your hair.

"I can't." You breathed out. Kate's concern was etched onto her features, rising in level. You got more comfortable, but it was barely any movement. The raven haired girl kneels down beside you, trying to find a reason as to your sudden change in behaviour since yesterday.

"Wanda..." You slurred her name, and instantly, Kate's face scrunched up in confusion and shock at the sudden mention, her eyes widening.

"What?" She asked, making sure she wasn't hearing things. If she didn't, maybe it was the alcohol, making your mind spin in unbelievable ways.

"Wanda...saw me in the streets and talked to me," you said slowly, your eyes slowly faltering with being able to keep themselves open. Kate took in the new information with high awareness.

"What did she want?" She asked, but you were dozily falling asleep already, and if she didn't get this out from you, you might never share it.

"Hey, what did she want?" she repeated, gently tapping your cheek with her palm. That roused you awake once more with a hum, but barely in a half awake state.

"To...to getmeback..." your words slurred, mumbled sleepily in a breath before you closed your eyes once more, Kate was taking a deep breath in the meanwhile.

"Oookay, now go back to sleep. You're...not looking too great, Y/N," she said, patting your shoulder before pulling away and standing up. But you had already fallen asleep, gentle snores coming from you.

She stared at you, seeing how small you looked. Then, she pulled up the covers to warm you up, having seen the small shivers on your skin before sighing softly.

What was she going to do with you?

end of chapter 10. <3

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 9

------------------------

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if your name is crossed out like this, you have mentions off! :(

#🥀 dawn’s collection #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff angst

[rylie-m]

redemption

Summary: In which Y/N Thomas is left to raise her and Rafe Cameron’s baby after he refuses to take responsibility for it. He shows up after two years, ready to redeem himself, but is it too late?

Chapter 2:

After dropping Crew off at daycare, you start to walk towards the cafe that you agreed to meet Rafe at. You had fully thought you’d gotten rid of Rafe for good after his visit in the hospital when Crew was born, but he looked mature now and you were sure he thought that he was much more mature now than ever.

 Of course, Crew knows exactly who Rafe is, he’s seen pictures of him and he knows that he has a dad. He knows his Aunt Sarah, Uncle John B, and Aunt Wheezie very well. You figured that Ward and Rose knew who Crew was, and you had told Sarah to tell them about Crew if they asked, but she said that they had yet to ask. That’s why you were so unsure to bring Crew to meet Rafe this time around, depending on what Rafe had to say, you were willing to let them meet. You knew Crew, you knew his personality, and he would either love, or be terrified of Rafe the first time meeting him. 

With you being a single mom from the beginning, Crew was rarely around older men. Your father and John B were probably the only older men he interacted with, and they had both been around since the beginning. Crew knew a few of your friends' boyfriends, but you didn’t really bring Crew around men very often, there just weren’t many opportunities to. 

As you turned the corner, you saw heard Rafe’s big GMC truck pull into the parking lot, and decided that you’d wait for him so that you could walk in together. After a minute or so, Rafe sees you and starts walking to you. He looks really good. You internally groan at yourself because that was the first thing you thought of. 

He smiles at you and puts his hands in his pockets, “Hey, thank you for meeting me.” He says, feigning confidence. You smile tightly, “Hey, Rafe.” He goes to open the door and holds it open for you, walking in after you. After you both order- with Rafe paying for both of you- you find a table and sit in awkward silence across from each other. 

He takes a shaky breath before starting, “Listen, I wanted to apologize for everything-” You cut him off before he can go any further, “Don’t. I don’t need an apology. You sent money- even after I sent it back. You did what you said you were going to do, there’s no reason to apologize for it.” You say, matter of factly. He visibly deflates and exhales a long breath. “There’s no excuse for what I did though-” You cut him off again, shaking your head, “Rafe, you were 20, that’s an excuse in itself. I didn’t expect you to stay.” He furrows his brows and looks away, then in a quiet voice asks, “What’s he like?” You smile to yourself and start to talk about Crew. It’s obvious to Rafe that he is your whole world. 

After a while of catching up, talking about Crew, and making plans for dinner with him while Rafe is still in town, Rafe has to leave to go to a conference. Rafe stands awkwardly, and holds his arms out shyly. You smile lightly and give him a short hug. He still smells just like he did back then, clean, expensive, coastal. 

3 days later, you’re making dinner while Crew plays with his blocks on the kitchen floor when the doorbell rings. You take a deep breath, preparing for Crew to meet his father for the second time, and the first time that really counts. You smile at Crew and fix his hair, “Do you wanna help momma answer the door?” He nods quickly and jumps up from the floor. 

You look out the window that Crew’s face isn’t smushed against to see Rafe pacing, holding flowers and a suspiciously big box. He turns around and sees Crew’s face squished against the glass, and they make eye contact. You open the door, and Rafe pulls away from his son's curious blue eyes. 

“Hi.” He whispers.

“Hey, come in.” You say, pulling away from the door to let him in.

Crew is now hidden behind your legs, eyeing Rafe curiously. With his little brows furrowed and the slight pout on his face, he looks just like you, Rafe thinks. 

“Crew, honey, this is Rafe Cameron.” You say, picking him up. “He’s gonna be eating dinner with us.” He talks softly, leaning in slightly to talk to Crew, “Hey buddy,” He smiles, trying to soften himself, though it clearly doesn’t work because Crew’s brows scoop deeper towards the center of his face and he immediately ducks his face into your neck. Suddenly, the flowers in Rafes hands feel like they’re going to explode and the box of trains that he got Crew feel more equal to a 600 pound weight. 

You smile, reassuringly at Rafe, who is very clearly trying to connect, “He gets like this, especially around guys. Just give him some time and he’ll come around.” He nods and you show him into the living room, “Sorry he likes to spread his toys out everywhere,” Then you remember the box in his hand, “What is that?” He sets it down, taking it out of the bag, “Trains.” He says, trying not to sound nervous. Crew perks up slightly at that and looks at the bag, examining it. “And flowers, for you.” He states, holding them out, and Crew goes right back to where he was. 

You set Crew down and he immediately finds the fabric of your dress to hold in his hands while you take the flowers, “Thank you. I’m going to go find a vase, and dinner’s almost ready. Do you want a drink or anything?” He sits uncomfortably in the light blue armchair with a knitted yellow blanket with tiny sailboats on the hem, and shakes his head. You nod and lean down to face Crew, “Momma’s gonna be right in the kitchen, okay? Then I’ll be right back.” As Rafe observes you, he remembers vividly that it was the same comforting voice that nursed him back to health in his old room in Chapel Hill, when he woke up with food poisoning while being violently hungover. 

You disappear behind a set of opened double doors, while Crew and Rafe stay frozen in place. Crew looks at Rafe, watching him, while Rafe tries not to make any sudden movements. Rafe moves his hand to the box of trains, slowly and speaks gently, “I heard you liked planes, and trains. I tried to look for a bunch of planes, but couldn’t find them. So, I hope you can settle for trains.” He turns the front of the box towards Crew, showing him the pictures of the collection of plastic toy trains. Crew eyes Rafe, then points to the box, “Trains?” He says, in a tiny voice, his R being replaced with a slight W. Rafes eyes light up and he nods, “Trains.” You walk in, unknowingly ruining Rafe’s only chance that Crew would give him so far, as Crew immediately finds your dress to hold again. You sit on the cream couch and Crew scrambles to sit next to you, on the cushion furthest from Rafe. The whole night goes by just like that. Making awkward conversation about work and family with Rafe over spaghetti and Crew staying as far away from Rafe as humanly possible, even when you tried to encourage him to play with the trains Rafe got him. Unbeknownst to you and Rafe, Crew woke up this morning and now had more of an interest in sailboats. 

After an awkward 2 hours of Rafe trying to interact with Crew, and Crew having none of it. The little boy went down for his nap. That’s the first excuse you give to Rafe, explaining why the little boy wanted nothing to do with his dad. The next excuse is probably more likely, and unfortunately, news you’ll have to break to Rafe. 

“He’s sweet, but he hates me.” Rafe says, disappointed. Still sitting in the chair you left him in before Crew fell asleep. You wonder if it’s with himself or with you for not trying to create more contact from Crew to Rafe. You sit on the chair next to him, “Rafe, I think there’s something you need to know if you plan on sticking around.”

hi everyone, sorry this took soooo long, i've been really busy :( but i hope you like this!

#redemption #rafe cameron x reader

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 5

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 5

Summary: Things begin to get more clear for the reader, in more ways than one.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters, other SPN characters

Word Count: 3,172

Warnings: Infidelity, a car crash?

Author’s Note: Let me know what you think!! Enjoy!!

Read Chapter 4 here.

It was still too early, around 4:00 in the morning. You knew Dean wasn’t going to be up for another couple of hours so you stay in the bed and consider a few things. You think about the previous night’s events, the moment you’d shared with Dean. He did know you, better than anyone. You think about the dream where you’d made love to Dean once again. Everything was suddenly so clear you begin to wonder how you’d ever missed it. Your decision was already made as you climb out of the bed.

Quickly and quietly, you move about the room, getting dressed. You slip into your own jeans and a tank top before going into Dean’s closet. You find your favorite of his flannels and pull it on, knowing Dean won’t mind. In fact, you already knew he loved seeing you in his clothes. He’d said so, after all.

Tiptoeing through the hall past the guest room Dean was sound asleep in, you move into the kitchen. Coffee is the first thing you start about, making a whole pot so that Dean can have some as well when he gets up. You reach into his cabinet and pull down what you know is his favorite mug. World’s Best Godfather. You’d gotten it for him shortly after Ella had been born. You run your fingers over the lettering and bite your lip before setting it on the counter next to the coffee maker.

After finding a decent sized travel mug, you fill it up and set it aside to cool off just enough. You find a notepad and pen before writing out a quick note to Dean.

I’ll be back this afternoon with Ella. Have a good day! Y/N

You leave the note under the edge of his mug before starting for the door. It was still early but you knew one particular early bird who would be up and ready to listen to you. You make the short drive to your parents’ house and, sure enough, the porch and kitchen lights are already on. Your mother was always up before the sun, a trait you didn’t normally share.

Making your way up to the door, you decide that knocking would probably scare her less than just walking in at this hour, so you rap at the door gently, just loud enough for her to hear. A moment later, you can see your mother peeking through the window of the door. It opens and she smiles at you warmly.

“Ready to talk?” She asks. You let out a small laugh and nod your head in response. She opens the door completely, allowing you in. The two of you move into the kitchen together. “Hungry? She asks.

“No thanks,” you tell her as you take a seat at the counter. She pulls herself onto the stool next to you and waits patiently for you to begin. You look at your hands, realizing for the first time that you hadn’t bothered to put on your rings this morning. “I’m leaving Jackson.”

“Why?” She asks. You look at her, confused. That wasn’t the jubilant cheer you’d expected. Her face is emotionless, impossible for you to read.

“He’s been having an affair with one of his students,” you tell her. A laugh breaks from her and you stare at her, even more confused. She wasn’t reacting at all like you’d expect.

“He’s been having an affair and Dean’s let him live this long?” She asks. You smile a little and shrug.

“I think he realizes he couldn’t take care of us from prison too well,” you joke. That earns another laugh and your smile grows a little more. Your mother’s hand reaches over, clasping yours.

“You’re handling this well,” she says. You shake your head, looking down at your hands in hers.

“I didn’t at first. I blamed myself, thought I wasn’t good enough for him or that I had done something wrong. But last night, with Dean…and then I had this dream…” You trail off and look back up at your mother now. “I don’t love Jackson like I thought I did. Honestly, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember why I even married him.” She smiles a little sadly and reaches up, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You did love him. I saw that. But something changed. Before you were even married, you didn’t look at him the same way. Of course, you never looked at him the way you look at…” She stops and bites her lip.

“Dean,” you finish for her, nodding. “It’s always been Dean. I can’t believe I was too stupid to realize it.”

“Stupid’s a strong word,” she says, touching your cheek gently. You laugh a little and shrug. A cry from upstairs draws your attention and you break into a wide smile.

“I’ll get her,” you tell your mother before rising to your feet. You make your way up the stairs and to your old bedroom that had been converted back into a nursery after your brother’s son was born. Ella’s standing up in the crib, reaching for you when you walk through the door.

You take your daughter into your arms and hold her to you, swaying back and forth slowly. After calming down, she looks up at you and giggles, her hand coming to rest on your cheek. You press a kiss to her tiny palm as you take in those beautiful green eyes, shining up at you. The two of you go back down to the kitchen where your mother is still waiting. While you were gone, she fixed some baby cereal for Ella. You return to your stool and set her in your lap, feeding her breakfast to her.

“Can I make a confession?” You ask, looking up at your mother. She laughs and nods, running a hand over Ella’s soft curls. “You remember when Jackson and I had that huge fight and I called off the wedding?”

“Only to put the whole thing back on a week later? Rings a bell,” she teases. You nod and look down at Ella.

“Well…the night of the fight…I ended up at Dean’s,” you tell her. You glance up at her, a blush creeping into your cheeks. Her eyes widen in realization.

“Oh. I see. And you still went back to Jackson?” She asks. You sigh and shrug your shoulders.

“He went back to Lisa. I just thought…we agreed it was a one-time thing, ya know?” You tell her, wiping some stray cereal from Ella’s cheek. Your mother nods and smiles at Ella widely when she looks up at her grandmother, giggling. It only takes a moment for the next realization to hit her with a gasp.

“Ella…” She says, causing you both to look at her. You bite your lip and nod. “I always thought she favored him.” Ella giggles and slaps at the counter joyously. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Jackson was always so meticulously careful. I almost wasn’t sure he’d believe me when I told him,” you say. Your mother frowns and nods as she processes this new information.

“Why lie to him? Why not be with Dean?” She asks. You sigh and shake your head slightly.

“By the time I found out, he was with Lisa again,” you explain. She rises from her stool and makes her way around the counter to begin cooking breakfast.

“Does Dean know?” She asks, pulling some eggs from the fridge. You feed another spoonful of cereal to Ella.

“I think he suspects. Maybe even hopes. But I haven’t told him,” you tell her. “I think I will tonight.”

“He’ll be over the moon. To have both of you,” she says, smiling over at you widely. You bite your lip, nervously.

“I hope so,” you say. Your mother laughs at that and shakes her head.

“That boy has been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” she says. You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks as you look down at Ella again.

“Okay. Can you keep her for a few more hours? I’m gonna go see a lawyer and Jackson. Then I’ll pick her up and take her to Dean’s with me,” you explain. Your mother nods as she lays some bacon out on a pan.

After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, you set Ella in the playpen in the corner of the room and leave the house. There’s still some time to kill before any lawyer is going to be in their office so you decide to head to the house instead. You mentally prepare yourself to confront Jackson, however, upon arriving you discover that his car isn’t at the house. You check your phone for the first time and find a text from him, something had come up and he’d had to pull an all-nighter at the office.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way into the house. You spend the next few hours packing yours and Ella’s things into plastic crates you find in the attic. After you get as much as you can loaded into your car, you drive across town to the office for a lawyer you remembered a friend using in her divorce. You explain the situation to her and she agrees to help you. You leave her office and drive straight to the campus to deliver the news to Jackson personally. You park your car in the small lot and stare at the building in front of you.

“Just march in there and tell him,” you tell yourself before getting out of the car. Your march becomes more confident as you get closer to his office. You pause outside his door when you hear a distinctly female giggle before bursting into the room.

Chrissy, the gorgeous blonde from the texts, is sat on his desk, her shirt open and hanging off her shoulders. Jackson stands between her knees sucking a fairly substantial hickey onto her neck. They both jump and Jackson falls into his chair at the sight of you. Chrissy slowly pulls her shirt back on, eyeing you cautiously.

“Y/N,” Jackson says, standing from his chair. You shake your head and hold up a hand.

“Chrissy, isn’t it?” You ask, looking at the younger girl. Her eyes widen and she nods slightly. You give her a patient smile. “Would you mind giving me a minute with my husband?” She glances at Jackson once before picking her bag up and leaving the office quickly.

“Let me explain,” Jackson says, taking a cautious step forward. You let out a laugh and shake your head.

“There’s nothing to explain, Jackson. I’ve already packed mine and Ella’s things. We’re going to stay with Dean. You should be hearing from my lawyer soon,” you tell him. He nods slightly and you stare at him, incredulously. “You aren’t even going to fight to keep us, are you?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “This just…this isn’t what I wanted. What I thought I was getting. I never wanted kids for one thing.” His words wash over you and, while you had remained calm to this point, the anger begins to build instantly.

“You’re blaming this on Ella?” You ask, your voice strained. He shrugs his shoulders again. You nod and glance around the office. There wasn’t a single picture of you or her to be seen. “Well…good thing she isn’t yours then,” you snap. His eyes widen immediately.

“I knew it!! I knew you slept with him!!” He shouts, almost victoriously. “I hope you weren’t expecting child support.” You roll your eyes, turning for the door.

“I’m not. Don’t worry. Her real father, the one actually loves her, will take care of her,” you tell him before closing the door behind you. You run your hands over your face as you make your way back out to the car. Your phone rings in your back pocket and you pull it out. Dean. You can’t help but smile as you put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Gorgeous! Hadn’t heard from you all morning, except for your note. Wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says. You can hear the concern in his voice as you climb in to the driver’s seat of your car.

“I’m great. I talked to Mom. Talked to a lawyer. Caught Jackson in the act in his office,” you tell him, turning the key in the ignition.

“You caught him?? With the girl?? Do I need to help you hide the bodies?” He asks. You laugh and shake your head as you back out of the parking lot.

“No. I didn’t kill them, don’t worry. He tried to blame Ella though,” you say. Dean’s quiet for a moment and you instantly regret telling him that.

“He did what?” He asks, flatly. You sigh as you pull onto the main road.

“He blamed his cheating on the fact that he never wanted kids. I told him it was…” You stop and bite your lip. “Wasn’t her fault.”

“Damn straight it’s not her fault. Or your fault. He better hope we don’t run into each other,” he says, anger in his words. You smile a little and shake your head.

“It’s fine, Dean. It’s over. I don’t even want anything from him. Alimony or child support…nothing. As long as he just signs the papers, I couldn’t care less,” you tell him. There’s another pause on the other end of the line before Dean speaks again.

“So, you and Ella are both staying tonight?” He asks. You could swear you heard a hopeful note in his voice, and you laugh lightly.

“We are. If that’s okay,” you say. You can practically see him rolling his eyes.

“Of course. You two can stay as long as you want,” he says. “You can share my bed. I’ll stay in the guest room again.”

“We’ll discuss sleeping arrangements later,” you tell him. A rush of exhaustion washes over you and you shake your head quickly to stay awake.

“Oh?” He asks, that hopeful note back. You blink a few times to refocus on the road.

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice says. But it doesn’t come from the phone. It seems to come from somewhere further away.

“Oh no,” you mumble, feeling your eye lids grow heavy. “No, no, no.”

“Y/N,” Dean says again. This time you aren’t sure which Dean says it, the one from the phone or the one from your dream. Your head slumps forward.

Everything happens so fast.

You bolt upright in the motel bed, still naked under the sheets. Dean’s standing at the edge of the bed, a bit bloody from the hunt but smiling.

“Case closed,” he says, dusting off his jacket. You stare at him and his face falls slowly as you feel something warn on your head. “Y/N?” He asks. You reach up and press your fingers to your forehead. When you pull them away, you find them covered in blood. “Sam!!” Dean calls out, rushing to your side. You let out a blood-curdling scream as pain shoots through various points in your body; your head, your ribs, your left leg. You fall into Dean’s arms as you slip out of consciousness.

For the first time in a long time, everything goes completely dark. You can feel the pain from your injuries but it isn’t as bad. In the distance, you can hear several sounds breaking through the darkness. They’re all muddled and you can barely make them out. Dean’s voice, frantically calling your name. Sam’s voice, asking questions. Another voice, a woman you don’t recognize shouting orders. There are other sounds, background noises, machines going crazy.

As soon as it starts, everything stops again. The sounds die down except for one. The steady rhythm of a heart monitor. You slowly manage to open your eyes and take in the room you’re in now. A hospital room, plainly decorated. You’re by yourself, none of the people you’d heard speaking previously are there.

The door to your room opens and you look over quickly to find Dean, relief clear on his face when he sees you.

“Thank God. I was worried sick,” he says. “She’s awake,” he calls out to someone in the hall. He sighs as he steps into the room, rushing to your side. You nod slightly, trying to think, trying to remember. Which you are you?

“What happened?” You ask, trying to clear things up. Dean sighs and shrugs.

“You fell asleep behind the wheel. Ran off into a ditch. You’ve got a concussion, few broken ribs, and a pretty nasty gash in your leg,” he says. Behind the wheel.

Just then, the door opens again. People begin to file into the room. Your parents with Ella, Dean’s parents, Sam and Jessica, and a woman who seems vaguely familiar but out of place. She’s petite and blonde with green and blue streaks in her hair. She comes to Dean’s side, wrapping her arms around one of his.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, smiling down at her. She smiles back at him and nods before looking over at you.

“How are you feeling?” The strange woman asks. You shake your head slightly, trying to place where you know her from.

“Confused, I guess. Head hurts a bit,” you tell him. A hand comes to rest on your forearm and you look over at Sam, Jessica’s hand held tightly in his own.

“That’s the concussion, I’m sure,” he says. You nod and look over as the doctor comes into the room.

“Alright, let’s give her some room to breathe,” he announces. “Let me look her over and you can come back in. A few at a time.” Everyone gives you a worried smile before starting to file back out of the room. The woman turns to Dean and kisses his cheek.

“I have to get back to work,” she tells him. He nods and watches as she leaves the room. You frown slightly, looking between them, then reach out and catch Dean’s hand.

“Who was that?” You ask when he looks back at you. He frowns as he takes a step back, squeezing your hand.

“It hasn’t been that long, Sweetheart,” he says. You frown at him. “I mean, she was your best friend for years.”

“Dean,” you say, shaking your head.

“That was Lisa, Y/N,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief, trying to reconcile this Lisa with the one in your mind. You recalled Lisa as a tall, brunette not a short blonde with colorful streaks.

It hits you like a flash of lightening. Memories of Dean and Lisa. When he’d gone back to see her and found out about Ben. Ben. Her son. Dean had lived with them for a year while he thought Sam was gone. Sam had been in Hell.

Hell…not Stanford.

Hell is real. Demons are real. Monsters are real.

This isn’t real. And you know exactly who’s behind it all.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisyacsa @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @demons-eats-pie-too @brightlilith

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader

[tashacee]

Hallo! Came straight over from ao3 after receiving your reply! I really loved reading Aspects of a Hero: Master Mode! I also happened to be the kind of person who loves what-ifs! Therefore I have a request: another chapter BUT from the perspective of one of the non-cursed heroes, specifically pertaining their reactions to seeing their cursed comrades as hylians! There is so much potential DRAMA! I’d want to hear their first impressions of each other, I’d love to hear them get to know each other again, hear how they adjust to their new group dynamics - I’d just love to see what you can do with it! Don’t feel pressured to write though! But I’m sure it’s a challenge and a perspective you’d enjoy tackling! ;)

Master of Change

Wind loved his weird family. Sure, two of them were literal animals, four more were magical creatures who couldn’t communicate with them, and one was a ghost, but grandma always said that variety is the spice of life! And, as grandma is always right, then this was a good thing!

Wind just. He loved them all. He loved Warriors, his big brother, who he had thought he’d never see again. He loved Sky, how gentle he was and how fearsome in battle. Spirit seemed custom built to be his best friend, and Wind’s only regret was that he couldn’t actually hug his ghostly brother. 

Twi, despite being a literal wolf, was gentle and nurturing and always up to snuggle. Legend was a grumpy little bun bun, but Wind could usually talk him round to sit on his lap. 

Four and Hyrule, despite their size, were fun and always up to cause mischief. Four was frustrated that no one recognised his sign and Hyrule didn’t seem to have ever learned sign at all, and they were slowly starting to pick up a few phrases that the rest could understand. It wasn’t perfect - they were still just beginning after all and. Well. The two were tiny. 

And then there was Time and Wild. The two largest of the chain. The sailor couldn’t tell how many nights he had fallen asleep snuggled into one of their arms, cuddled up and listening to gentle purrs or the soft creaking of wood. 

So yes. Wind loved his brothers. He accepted them as they were, no ifs, no buts, no conditions. 

And then, suddenly, his brothers were… less weird?

They were all hylian???

Wind wasn’t complaining! Not in the slightest! He could finally hug Spirit, which was like, pretty much his entire life’s mission up until that moment. And it felt good.

But then there was the rest of them. Hyrule wasn’t a two inch tall fairy, he was a hylian guy with messy hair, ragged clothes, and seemed even more shy than before. Four was still admittedly tiny, but was the size of a child rather than a mouse, and was VERY excited to be understood again.

Wild still had his scars but was short and blond. Legend was a whole ass adult with a husband and a bad attitude. Wolfie was possibly the coolest rancher dude Wind had ever met. And Time-

Time was Mask. But, like. Old.

Wind was man enough to admit that… okay yeah. He sobbed like a baby when he realised Time was his baby brother all grown up. All this time he’d been wondering and worrying that Mask hadn’t joined them and here he was!

It was a lot to get used to. Their previous camping arrangements didn’t work now that they were all hylian, and what was more, they suddenly had Opinions from members of the chain who couldn’t speak before. Even Twilight, who it turned out was still unable to talk, was more than competent in multiple signs and both could and would use that to give his two rupees

But… it wasn’t bad. SURE it was an adjustment. Warriors looked vaguely constipated and like he needed a drink, but honestly, that was his general expression these days.But they were all brothers, and they were finally properly united.

Wind grinned as he thought over all that had changed in the last few weeks. He was snuggled up with Spirit, and nearby he could hear Time and Wild chatting quietly and laughing with Four.

Yeah, it was weird. It was a lot to get used to.But it was good. And, frankly, that was all that mattered.

#it me #replies #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect

[lightwise]

Hey guys. I know I’ve been relatively quiet on here since the finale, and I wanted to let you all know I haven’t just liked all your posts but not reblogged for the sake of lurking 😅. I had an insanely chaotic week in my personal life/schedule and the finale hit me hard, in some ways that I wasn’t expecting, so I’ve been processing a lot behind the scenes and trying to play catch-up.

I know there’s a lot of opinions, a lot of hurt feelings, and a lot of processing going around, no matter what your opinions about the finale itself. And even if it had satisfied every one of us, it still is hard to say goodbye to our Bad Batch in canon media. I’ve been crying every time I see shots from those last few scenes and the epilogue 😭❤️

I’ll be sharing everyone’s thoughts and my own as I have the bandwidth this week/ongoing. I have a lot of things I want to address:

- How Tech was handled

- Project Necromancer and Omega’s m count

- the death trooper batch and what worked and didn’t work for me

- how Crosshair’s hand was handled

- my reaction to the finale, as well as the pros vs cons of how it was executed

- the pros and cons of the season overall

- potentially analyses on Hunter and Crosshair throughout their arcs

- some posts that I had been compiling before the finale that will now have a very different tone 😅🫣 (you’ll know what I mean when I get there)

- final update on my Crosshair Sighs count

- additional chapters of the Be There one-shots I started at the beginning of the season. I have Hunter and Crosshair’s perspectives, and I will add in Wrecker’s, Echo’s, and Omega’s.

- I still have an upcoming Hunter short fic and my long fic Compass Pointing North (Rex and Echo leading the clone rebellion) that will fill in all the gaps of the last two seasons and potentially more (I have so many ideas!)

In short, I’m still here, not going anywhere, just need some time to process and get my thoughts together. For those of you grieving or feeling let down, I see you and feel the same way about certain things. For those of you ecstatic and fulfilled about certain things, I see you and feel the same way as well.

And lastly—I’ve been seeing and hearing both behind the scenes and publicly making fun of, tearing down, or vehemently shaming people for their various reactions to this finale. I have to say I’m a bit disappointed at some of the backlash that has been happening between fans for holding differing opinions and emotions. If someone else has a different favorite character than you, a different perspective, a level of difficulty that you are not experiencing—do not shame them for that. Do not go on anon and harass them. Don’t try to tell people who are upset that they should just be happy and get over it. And don’t tell people who are really satisfied with what we got that they shouldn’t be expressing that or that they are inconsiderate for feeling that way.

In short, don’t let the end of this show tear apart all of the good and wonderful and fun moments that we’ve built together over these last three years. This fandom has been a special place and a very meaningful place for most of us, I believe, and those who are in this fandom do not deserve to be treated poorly simply for having their own perspectives. Be kind to each other. Please. I know you all are capable of it 🙏🏻✨❤️

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

[roomsofangel]

IN THE ABSENCE OF EVERYTHING, I PROMISE TO KEEP YOU WARM . . jeong yunho

synopsis ateez are on a much needed break after their recent comeback — traveling overseas for a short-term vacation, yunho desires nothing more than just to ease himself and let go of worries.

but with a run in with someone he deems an angel in human skin, yunho learns she doesn’t know who he is and pretends to be someone else.

filled with secrets and a burning romance, yunho learns that no matter what you do or how hard you try, life just isn’t fair.

and he only had himself to blame.

wc 775

chapter warnings none that i can think of!

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

yunho swore if someone asked him, he could describe the day you two encountered again down to every little detail there was, something that deeply burned into his memory and left a permanent scar. this was something perfectly handcrafted and molded into your shape. a personal shrine for you in his mind.

but time was never on yunho’s side, his slender fingers messing with the year old receipts he was dreading to throw away, the list of charges lining up before he shoved them back into the shoebox, a huff of air leaving his lungs as he closed his eyes, your silhouette on display. he swears he can reach you if he just shuts them tighter. with a sigh, he grabbed the shoebox cover and closed the lid, heart faltering for a second each time he read the handwriting

yunho and y/n’s memories

i’ll love you forever, yuyu! - yn

but time was never on yunho’s side, and he only had himself to blame for always being five seconds too late.

yunho remembers the first time he asked you out, the same day you two reconnected and you swore he was following you for a moment and he had let out a belly laugh — but now when he recalls the memory, it tastes bittersweet and he wants to purge it out like bad liquor. his regrets stain it all, knowing that was the day he chose not to tell you the truth.

“i’m just coming to pick up something from a friend,” he had voiced and you scoffed at first, not believing him until his manager had came with a few documents shoved into an envelope, resting in a tote bag that yunho accepted happily, “see? my good friend,” he teased

and technically he wasn’t lying about the friend, his manager was a decent guy who he got along with, maybe he wouldn’t go out for drinks and sunday brunch with the guy but he liked to think that they were decent enough — professionalism was a line he didn’t cross however, his manager was his manager.

but that day, he wasn’t.

that day, yunho was someone else. someone that he wished he could be again, and he knew that was selfish.

it wasn’t fair on you that you fell in love with someone you were now convinced you didn’t know at at all

but yunho doesn’t blame you, he never really knew himself either.

“do you wanna go to this cat cafe?” yunho asked you, the first place he ever took you to and you were hesitant at first — an intrigued expression, but tone laced with venom when you had eventually spoke

you hummed, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze or act as if you were genuinely acknowledging him, hell, you could have convinced yunho you didn’t even hear a thing he said, but you stopped flipping through the magazine you were assessing before your answer followed, “a cat cafe?” you parroted back to him, finally meeting his gaze with brows lifting in question, “why would i go with you?”

yunho shrugged, “so i can apologize better,” he responded to your glare with a smile, showing a bit of teeth and he felt accomplished watching the red run across your cheeks more and more, you rolled your eyes but yunho saw the smile you were fighting back

“just do it here.” you motioned to the building the two of you were in and he shook his head

“no, i wanna be surrounded by cute cats and hot chocolate,” wiggling his eyebrows to tease you, he let out another laugh when you playfully shoved his shoulder, your expression not matching but with the way your eyes glistened when they met his, even you couldn’t stop the small smile from forming

your eyes flickered to the clock then back towards the taller male in front of you who fixed the strap of the bag on his shoulder, “do you mind waiting a bit? my shift ends in ten minutes, i just have to sort out these,” your hand lifted the magazine you were going through earlier to shimmy it a little, and yunho smiled wide

“i don’t mind!” he beamed, walking towards one of the sofas that were in the lobby the two of you resided in, plopping himself down and getting comfortable, “i’ll be here.”

if only the two of you had known what was going to be awaiting you, because maybe it would have hurt less — but time was never on yunho’s side

no matter how desperately he wanted it to be now that you were gone.

masterlist . . next

#. . 🗒️ 𓈒 ׂ ☀️ 𖥔 in the absence of everything #ateez fic #jeong yunho fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #jeong yunho writing #jeong yungo smut #jeong yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho au #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho fanfic #jeong yunho ateez #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho x reader

[moonbaby26]

Title: Abduction

(Chapter 9 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Sir Crocodile

Chapter Warnings: language, violence, blood, murder (not main characters), toxic/controlling relationships, reader’s implied past abuse

Chapter Synopsis: You chose to interfere and save the life of someone who had nothing to do with you. But like plucking one strand of a spider’s web to call the predator to its prey, an irreversible chain reaction has now started. Doflamingo is goaded by his own past as well, forcing him to refuse even your temporary release from him this time.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9

——————————

—————————— 

At least you hadn’t had to wonder long on if you’d misjudged the strangers’ intentions with the girl. Though if you hadn’t been so sure, your own body wouldn’t have reacted near as strongly as it had. 

The look in that girl’s eyes was the same fear you’d seen on the faces of girls and boys just like yourself so many times. That last glance before they’d be pulled away into rooms with strange men, or onto ships with chains then around their wrists and ankles.

You’d been a rare survivor of that kind of childhood. And just like in Sabaody with the little merboy, you could never walk away once that realization of another child’s fear hit you.

And of course, all your intent was so clear in your own body language as well. Even in a sleek and beautiful dress you never would have chosen. Even in the mask, the heels, and the expensive jewelry you now wore, you were right back to being a fighter.

So the very moment you’d slid in front of that group to block their path and announced yourself as a marine captain with questions for them, they had also not hesitated in the slightest to deal with you.

But the flash of gunmetal and blades all at once from beneath so many equally expensive clothes also unlocked your last restraints.

Because they weren’t World Government contractors then. Even Cipher Pol agents would have just told you to stand down and mind your own business once knowing you were a marine.

These strangers willingness to kill a marine officer without you so much as laying a hand on them first made the situation more than clear. 

They were either pirates or some kind of mercenaries then, and everything was completely fair game as the ballroom erupted into the echoes of gunfire and screams.

It actually helped you by the way they aimed only for your chest as well. You didn’t have to worry about bystanders being grazed then and could focus your armament as strong as able in that one place to catch those first shots.

Not that it didn’t hurt immensely though. The force from the bullets spread out like miniature shockwaves through your rib cage and organs regardless.

You missed the freedom of movement of your normal skirt and the weight of your usual boots too. But you had to improvise, working as fast as you could with no weapon but your hands and feet as you tried for one or two hit KO’s against them.

The sooner you could down each opponent, the less chance of additional hostages being taken or a stray bullet burying itself into one of the other nobles.

Tables were crashing over, glassware shattering, and floors cracking as you all chased one another around. Six of them versus one of you.

But you still felt like a dog on a short chain, moving in a tight circle to still keep yourself between them and the girl all the while.

Besides their weapons, you were just lucky at how weak they really were. But it did take so much haki to fully stop those bullets every time. A resource that was absolutely not limitless to you, as you still counted the enemies down as they fell one after another to your hardest hits.

By the time only one of the attackers was still standing, it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d been the last one up. He was stronger than the others you realized, and he hadn’t been hiding behind a gun. He had a sword that’d come from within his long coat. 

All this entire battle had transpired in just moments though. From the time the first shot rang out to the time it was just you and him as you understood that his mission had changed.

He was going to strike the girl down, call this transport botched, and that be the end of it you were sure. And he would absolutely cut you down to get to her.

You’d been an idiot to leave your rope dart behind with your things at the villa. Weapons had been checked for at the doors here as they weren’t allowed. But obviously those rules could be skirted as he came for you with that long blade.

The first strike you did block anyway. His sword contacting your forearm as the girl trembled in shock behind you. But with the way it still did sting just barely through your armament coating, you already knew how in trouble you really were. That hit had actually kissed your real flesh.

Your coating was quickly thinning. You’d used too much, too fast in the speed of this incident.

And this man actually knew how to use a sword. Or maybe he was a fruit user. Something already felt off in your arm then as you still had no choice but to let the next swing of the weapon come. If you had truly dodged it, the girl would have been struck instead.

As it was, the blade missed your waist by only the thickness of your dress’s fabric that time. Not breaking your skin, but tearing a large swipe into the material as you’d backed into the girl as her shield. 

On the resulting downswing, that falling sword did not miss your leg however.

But that was also the one chance you’d seen for your opening for a counter strike. Even as you felt the searing pain as he did break through your armament over your thigh, you’d still punched as hard as you could while his sword was down. The last bits of your haki diverted into your fist to make it count.

You felt your attacker’s nose break as he went flying backwards. The bloody sword along with him as you immediately fell to one knee while your leg went completely numb.

“No!” The girl was sobbing aloud at last then. You felt her pulling at your dress as if to catch you. But she’d fallen down too of course, and was then crawling to come around you.

She must have thought he’d fully succeeded in amputating your leg. But that leg was still there as you were already trying to put pressure on the massive gash atop your thigh. The blood was flowing out readily, so warm against your hands.

But she would have been killed if you hadn’t done exactly this.

You realized she knew that too as she desperately started to try and tear pieces from her own dress. “Please…I can make a tourniquet. I’m so…I’m so sorry.” Her face was absolutely contorted in fear, grief, and guilt as you watched her in a bit of surprise.

For her age, that girl now doing anything other than just sitting there in continued tears and shock was unusual. She was actually trying to help.

But your heart was racing yourself. You realized you couldn’t feel your arm any longer either even though it had only been nicked. Everywhere that sword had broken the skin had gone fully unresponsive now. It wasn’t normal. But you needed to concentrate on the blood loss first. You didn’t think it’d gotten into any artery, but if you couldn’t close the wound… 

As you were thinking all of this, still trying to slow the bleeding with both your hands and the makeshift bindings from both your dress and the girl’s, you saw her eyes widen again as she looked back up from your wound.

The sound of footsteps crunching over broken glass behind you had you immediately trying to stand and turn in defense. Who had you missed? As if you could even fight one on one now though.

You couldn’t even stand to your own surprise, body so uncooperative as the girl got between you and those footfalls instead.

“Leave her alone! Please! Just take me! Don’t hurt anyone else! I won’t run again!” She was begging as she tried to hold her arms out as if that alone could shield you.

You would have used your still working arm to grab and throw her honestly. She was thin and light enough. You would have yelled at her to go for one of the exits. But as you looked over your shoulder to see what was coming, your resolve wavered.

Every other bystander had fled in the chaos. Doflamingo alone now stalked across that field of broken glass, looming with his hands in his pockets as you first saw the deep scowl across his face.

Your own mind did not react with any relief to that aura which preceded him. You understood the girl’s fear innately. Everything in that man’s body language now spoke of danger, not rescue.

So much so in fact, that you nearly threw her anyway. 

But there wasn’t enough time. You grabbed the girl and pulled her back behind you instead as she yelped. Still at least keeping yourself between her and the warlord before that man’s long legs brought him to stand easily before you again.

The sheer contempt in his expression only felt like the pirate from years before though. The same one you’d once watched from binoculars on Tsuru’s ship as he’d slit the throats of rival pirates with one swipe of his strings before you could reach them. 

You were absolutely at his mercy.

“And what was your plan after all of this?” His cold voice finally asked as you still shielded the girl.

“Doffy…” The word left your mouth before you had even bid it. As if he had physically drawn it out of you while your heart still pounded.

The feeling was indescribable. Fear, but something else too. You knowing full well what the sight of blood did to him, but trying to call him in to you all the same, to wake him up. You had no one else that could help you now. The only one who could save you from him…was him.

You saw that resulting twitch of his mouth at the sound of your plea too. His involuntary response to your own voice.

And suddenly he was crouched down right in front of you even with a then emerging sneer.

The girl gripped to you harder in her surprise, still behind you as Doflamingo roughly pulled the scraps of fabric away that you and she had tried unsuccessfully to put over your wound.

Your blood smeared thick across his hand as his fingers moved across the deep gash. But you could feel none of it, just watching as his strings emerged. 

His movements were so precise, fingers edging in a criss cross pattern to pull the wound slowly back together with those same strings. 

And once it was closed, he used both hands to surprisingly gently reposition your leg. Making the limb extend and raise, circling his hand above and below your thigh as more strings laid down around it. In the same texture as the softest cotton bandaging actually as your good arm moved to touch it lightly with your hand in curiosity once he was done. 

He stared at you afterward and you could still feel that tension radiating from him. But it was gradually changing.

“You’ll really throw your body away for any brat in need won’t you?” He asked, with his face so close to yours again. 

And you felt like he was either going to bite you or kiss you in that next moment as he remained so conflicted, confused even.

But with the way his mouth still shifted as he tried to choose between the two, you saw even one more emotion. Something you hadn’t noticed before.

And you were sure you must be misreading him. 

Because he couldn’t. He didn’t. Not for you at least. Warlords didn’t show weakness that way. Pirates didn’t even care. And a true monster would never feel fear or panic. Not just for watching a nothing like you be cut down right in front of them anyway.  

Was he actually shaken? Even the slightest afraid?

His hand was still so protectively grasped to your leg after making that bandage. Even as you did close that last gap for him on your own instinct, kissing him quickly before that complicated feeling he was trying to understand could be buried with further violence.

And that poor little girl must be so confused herself. Maybe she’d even regret being rescued by such a mess of a human being like you. 

Doflamingo didn’t break the kiss once started either, even as you all heard more people coming. He actually only leaned in further, capturing you by the back of the head to press you in tighter to his mouth as the new voices finally came.

“Princess Vivi!” They shouted. “Oh thank fate, she’s here! Tell the king! She’s alive! Princess!”

Royal guards were running in one after another as you and the pirate finally ended that intimacy to look towards the commotion. But he didn’t let you go fully, with his hand still on your thigh. Nor did he stand.

He was absolutely still looking defensive, staying close as the guards surrounded you all.

But the girl did walk forward, quick to yell back to them. All those fresh tears were still wet on her face, even if they were now those of relief. “Stand down! This marine saved me! It’s alright. Everything is all right!”

And you did see the guards lowering their weapons immediately at her words. But in that distraction, apparently your most recent victim had been playing possum all the while.

You heard the additional sound as a few guards fell, the swordsman that had nearly taken your leg then up and muscling past them. But only with the intent to flee, quickly disappearing through the doors to the outside before any other could stop him.

At that, Doflamingo did growl and immediately stood to follow. Which you were still surprised by that intense of a response from him. They hadn’t done anything to him directly after all. And he certainly didn’t care about any random princess.

But again, you saw that strange moment of hesitation in him. The reflex to chase new prey so strong for him. Yet he glanced back at you, still seated there on the floor with those stains of blood around you. And you visibly saw as he changed his mind, tension shifting in his shoulders as he raised his hand instead.

It was the bloody hand that had tended to your wound.

Strings flew out from those red fingertips as the guards looked to him in renewed concern. But those strings only coiled tightly, falling to the ground. They formed feet, then legs, a torso, and quickly an entire copy of the warlord himself as he unleashed it with an all new scowl and the hiss of the words, “Black knight.”

You had never seen the creation of one of his string clones. Amazed how truly you could not tell the visual difference as the clone took on Doflamingo’s same current expression, leaping right over the stunned guards and disappearing out of the ballroom on the same path as the escaping stranger.

——————————

The agent had hidden themselves in a nondescript alleyway. Pleading in the dark to the one on the other end of that transponder snail as blood still ran from his broken nose.

“You were supposed to kill the girl immediately if she could not be transferred to the harbor. But I needed her dead by the end of all of this regardless.” That heartless voice responded coldly once more.

Followed by the sheer desperation from the subordinate, tone both nasally and muffled by his still bleeding face. “We tried, boss! I don’t even understand. The princess wasn’t supposed to have any other bodyguards. It was some bitch, I don’t know. She said she was a marine. But we had the girl. We took out the princess’s attendants just like you said to and took her. I paralyzed them with my power. It was all six of us. That should have been plenty, but-“

“You all couldn’t shoot or cut down even one marine after that?”

“I only got two hits on her with my paralyze cut. She fell, but she wasn’t alone either. Some tall ass guy showed up.”

“Then you should have finished the job. You said your devil fruit never fails.”

“But boss, really…I mean, They shot her so many times. It did nothing! It was like haki or some shit. What was I supposed to do?”

“You keep shooting and cutting, you fool! No marine short of an admiral can keep up armament forever. It would have broken, and she would have died. But now the princess will be under much heavier guard going forward. Your incompetence has cost me dearly today. It won’t be happening again.”

“No! Boss, please!”

“I’ll be sending other agents to clean this up. Run if you wish like those before you. It will be pointless. Consider your contract terminated.”

But a new voice had joined in just as suddenly before the call could disconnect. “Oh, I’ll save you both the time and effort.”

“Boss! It’s the tall guy, the one from-”

The sound of a person being sliced into pieces in mid sentence was certainly a distinct one. Followed by the briefest silence as Sir Crocodile’s contemptuous expression hardly changed.

He merely stared down at his snail, cigar smoke wafting up from his place at his desk within the basement of the Rain Dinners casino in Alabasta.

For a single moment, he’d hoped he hadn’t actually recognized that new voice. But that hope immediately died on the vine like all else in the next words from the uninvited.

“You picked the wrong night, you greasy prick. Take your cheap ass agents elsewhere. I’m working this island right now.” The string clone grumbled, now standing over its handiwork of the fresh kill.

“Doflamingo.” Crocodile bit further into his cigar. Body bristling with that physical abhorrence to just the confirmed sound of the other’s vile tone and everything it still represented to him. “Why are you even there? You goddamned freak. And helping marines no less…”

“Why are you trying to pick up little girls for quick cash? Are you that destitute again already? Do you need another loan from a real businessman, Croc?”

“I owe you nothing anymore. And I won’t ever again.”

The resulting dark laugh at that indignation reverberated low and menacing from the string clone. “Oh, like you didn’t enjoy paying it back to me…and with interest. You miss it don’t you? No one can fill you like I did.”

“You never get any less disgusting.” Came the hateful reply. “And you aren’t half as good as you think you are. But do stay delusional, Heavenly Demon.”

There was no quicker way to get under Doflamingo’s own skin of course. Even through proxy as the clone sneered, that ego prodded as he straightened up immediately. “Your moans for me said different, you sandy bitch. But here’s the thing. You do owe me something again now.”

“For goddamn what?” Crocodile growled. “I haven’t taken a single beri from you in years.”

“Your stooges shot the woman I was there with. You drew blood from something that belongs to me. How are you going to make that up to me?”

And Crocodile scoffed immediately. “Sounds like a mercy killing if some poor woman only had your company to endure. Just go buy another like you always do. Enjoy the complimentary syphilis or chlamydia to go along with it.”

The string clone hissed, even the forehead veins bulging in a realistic way. “You dumb motherfucker…you’re still not understanding. I wasn’t there with some call girl. I’m not talking about a worthless bystander. Your dead idiot already told you. They shot and cut that marine. It didn’t kill her because your men are trash. But you’re on my claim now. And you know I don’t let anyone take what’s mine. If you want me to fix this how I see fit, then that’s fine. Vice Admiral Momonga’s nearby. I can have a nice chat with him tonight about that dance powder you’ve been looking for can’t I? As if you could really buy it from outside of my network. And that Nefertari bitch you thought you could ransom and kill? I’m sure they’d love to know that too. Or were you going to ‘discover’ and defeat her killers yourself to get more on her daddy’s good side? I swear you might as well be fucking him too. You kiss ass, traitor.”

And Crocodile sat there for a moment. Truly awestruck at this mix of idiocy and true madness that had just graced his ears. “…Do you even goddamn hear your own words anymore? If only you’d drown yourself one day like the original Narcissus story.” He grumbled, the sheer audacity of it all as well seeming overwhelming. “So you’re now bedding marines too? As if that won’t blow up right in your face, you pathetic nymphomaniac.”

Crocodile kept on though, just getting louder in his responding anger, “You still think your cock alone can turn anyone into another of your sycophants? Please. You’re no gift from the gods, I assure you. You’re just another pirate who got lucky one too many times. And that over confidence will bite you in the ass someday. You’re going to fall like a house of cards then. And I hope we’re all still alive to see you hit every rung of that ladder on your way back down it.”

“Keep dreaming. Everything you do is only an imitation of what I’ve already accomplished!” Doflamingo spat back. “You should have given in and just become my subordinate ages ago. You’re going to bite off more than you can chew and choke on it without me to bail you out anymore.”

Crocodile was truly furious then. That implication of still not being responsible for his own success pushing him over that final edge of his composure. “Do not think for one fucking second that I owe anything I’ve achieved to you!”

“You tried to sleep your way to the top with me, Croc. Fucking own it! You got paid well for it, didn’t you!? But you stopped too soon. I could have taken you even higher.”

“I’d sooner gut myself on my own hook than ever come back to you, you degenerate bird!”

“Well, mess with that marine again and I’ll do it for you! I never minded rearranging your guts. But I can tear them out to show them to you just as fucking easily!”

“Go back to hell! If she has a functioning brain at all, that marine will escape you at first opportunity. Just like I did! You’ll be in Impel Down when she inevitably betrays you. In fact, I’ll be rooting for her now. I may even send her sympathy flowers, despite what she’s cost me here! There’s nothing wrong with sharing a common enemy. Because I’m sure she’ll see it my way soon. Your charms are all too fleeting. You’re just a disgusting, clawing, parasite! And once that mask falls for good, no one would even be caught dead with you!”

And the string clone was trembling in its own resulting rage of course. Because it would always come to this. They could never keep from each other’s throats for long. So very different in their personalities, but all too similar as well in that competing pride which had bled into full blown hatred after this long. Neither would ever forgive the other. “You’re wrong as always. And I’m going to prove it. Watch for the news! She’s mine, like you could have been. You ungrateful shit!”

And the connection was broken as the string clone crushed the receiver from off of that snail before the doppelgänger unravelled back to nothing in the alleyway.

All that raw emotion went straight back to the original who’d been aware of every word the entire time. Like the ultimate ventriloquy act through the power of his devil fruit.

Doflamingo’s real hands were still trembling in anger as he dug his fingers into the top of his pants over his thighs, sitting beside you in the ballroom still.

He wasn’t walking away this time, regardless of when the other marines would finally come. You could be as pissed as you wanted to be. He’d had enough of hiding and being told what he could or couldn’t have…and being judged as the kind of man he was or was not.

This was his life, his choices. He’d been pushed too far tonight.

——————————— 

“Sir…I mean your highness, it’s perfectly alright. Really. I’m just waiting for my commanding officer and then we’ll get all these creeps put in his brig for you and be on our way.” You tried again, attempting to fend off King Cobra’s continued insistence on having you checked out by their royal doctor. 

Even after Doflamingo had said cryptically that the last assailant was ‘taken care of’, that dark implication still hadn’t dampened the new mood in the ballroom.

King Cobra couldn’t stop thanking you, and everyone seemed to be worrying over you like some kind of selfless hero in return now that things had settled while waiting for the marines. 

And honestly, it was kind of refreshing to realize that there was a king that could act this grateful in public. He did seem to truly love his daughter and be beside himself with relief that she had nothing more than a few scuffs and scrapes after the whole ordeal.

It’d definitely been a targeted and brazen attack as she hadn’t even been alone when she’d been taken either. Her father had been at a meeting elsewhere on the island when their villa had been raided and her attendants and guards all overcome. 

Apparently the kidnappers had run into more guards responding to those initial distress calls though, and their group had had to detour through the crowded ballroom to try and escape detection. As oblivious as the average noble was, it absolutely would have worked. Only you, as unsophisticated as you were, had noticed the trouble for what it was.

And you had no regrets at all for what you’d done. Vivi too had remained close afterward, fussing over you as well and asking question after question about how you’d learned to do these things. Princess or not, she was still eager and curious now that the danger had finally passed.

“Do you think I could kick like that one day?” She asked with that kind of sincerity that could only come from youth.

“I don’t see why not.” You smiled, picking on her about that blue and green feathered masquerade mask of her own. “Call it the peacock slice or something. I’m terrible with move names though.”

“Ah, hmm. The peacock kick maybe?” And she did raise her leg a little, just laughing as the two of you continued to joke.

Of course you hoped this devil fruit nonsense you’d been hit with would wear off soon so that you’d be kicking again too. After waking in the guards’ restraints, one of the other attackers had confessed how the power set of the one who had cut you worked.

That fruit user had cut you twice, which apparently numbed and paralyzed whatever they cut for at least hours at a time. So you had one useless leg and one useless arm for now. If he’d cut you in the chest though you may have stopped being able to breathe all together.

So it could have definitely been worse. But you still worried about one other thing entirely now.

Even after dealing with that one escapee, Doflamingo had chosen to remain here beside you. And you’d already used one of the guards’ snails to call Momonga who was on his way. 

Of course Vivi, her guards, and even King Cobra had already seen Doflamingo here. Vivi and the first guards to arrive had even seen that kiss you’d given him that he’d also returned. But you weren’t sure they realized who he actually was.

Yet even in the mask instead of his sunglasses, and the dark suit instead of all the hot pink feathers, you had no doubt that the marines would know him when seeing him up close.

Because no one looked like Donquixote Doflamingo…but Donquixote Doflamingo.

And then what were you to say? You didn’t understand what his plan was. He just seemed agitated. Brooding over something still, but tolerating everything in silence as you played with Vivi and repeatedly politely declined Cobra’s offers of assistance.

You felt like you were still being guarded by the warlord right now in front of these others. Which wasn’t fully insulting considering your current state. You wouldn’t even be able to walk on your own right now.

But this current silence from him just left you hoping that that trademark smooth talking bullshit of his would emerge whenever the marines did arrive.

Couldn’t he just say he’d been here on his own and that any sudden fight or violence was always going to pique his interest? That wouldn’t be so far fetched would it? He was already a king in a place for royalty. One who loved fighting so much that he personally oversaw brutal colosseum matches in his home country. So that story might work.

You wished he would have at least said something more to you though after that short word of him taking care of the escaped assailant. When he didn’t, you had just kept on with Vivi.

But kids weren’t stupid. Especially her you were finding as she did lean in and finally whisper in your ear. “I think your boyfriend is still really mad you got hurt maybe? My friend Pell says boys are bad at feelings.”

You felt the heat in your face immediately. But you still laughed at the surprise and innocence of it, making Doflamingo’s head at last turn at the rare sound of your laugh as he looked at you both.

“Your friend Pell sounds smart.” You responded at normal volume, knowing the warlord had not heard what the girl said.

“He is. He didn’t come to Scylla with us. I bet he comes next time after this though! He’s a good fighter too.” Vivi smiled back.

She was helping you relax. But for all your worrying about what to say or do when Momonga and the others would at last walk in, that didn’t end up being what you had to contend with first anyway.

Not at all as new voices erupted as you’d all been awaiting only the marines. 

You were finding that these supposed royal guards weren’t really worth a damn as several more people slipped right past them. Not with guns or swords this time. But in a way, almost something far worse as you saw that first flash bulb go off.

“King Cobra! Princess Vivi! We’re with the World Economic Journal!” The reporters clamored.

Cobra wasn’t far away at that moment, just with his guards again, confirming that all the remaining attackers were remaining properly restrained.

Vivi was right beside you however. Doflamingo on your other side, all three of you sitting on chairs in a row now as the press swarmed in to first get pictures of the scuffed up princess.

Fuck. You thought, albeit straightening up in your own seat immediately. You could see Vivi doing the same, but she grabbed your hand just as fast. And you realized she was helping you hide the fact that your arm was so limp for the cameras. Making it look better just that simply with her quick thinking to reposition it and hold your hand in clear solidarity.

She’d been trained as a princess, and you as a marine to both give a certain appearance to the public. Two completely different ends of the spectrum, but evidently complimentary here at least.

And their hunger for a story was as bad as anytime you’d ever been at the mercy of these vultures. Though normally never with such a direct role. After noteworthy or controversial deployments, the press would sometimes be found hounding for a picture or an official marine quote as you’d all be trying to reload Tsuru’s ship in port. The reporters hanging around the gangplank like scavengers, making the crew have to chase them off in order to actually depart.

You’d never spoken to them directly. 

“They said you’re a marine! Was this a planned undercover operation then? Did you rescue the princess alone!? Did a kidnapper escape!?”

And you were about to open your mouth only to say that they could direct all questions to Vice Admiral Momonga once a full investigation had been completed…the standard canned answer you’d been taught when not sanctioned to speak to them.

But the man at your other side finally came back to himself in that moment. At least on the outside as he had shifted in his chair. One of his legs subtly touching against yours when he did so. Against your paralyzed leg that you couldn’t move away from him as his arm then stretched out over the back of your chair as well.

His body language said everything of possession and your one working hand absolutely clenched against your knee in your shocked reaction. Your mind was beginning to panic even if your expression didn’t yet change.

He still wasn’t smiling though. But his voice was easily that charismatic, strong tone you’d hoped for again. The one that made everyone stop and listen as the camera lenses turned to him immediately.

But you hadn’t wanted it like this. He was feeding into them instead of helping to play this down. What was he trying to do?

“Her name is Captain (Y/N).” Doflamingo spoke. “She defeated them all unassisted. One was not properly detained by these guards. I handled him after his escape.”

And you were hearing the camera shutters clicking all the while as he spoke for you. 

You could even see the focused looks in the reporters faces. They were trying to place him. They all knew by now that he was someone important. With that aura again forming, this sway he had over the room as soon as he’d chosen to be present and back outside of his own head again. 

“Your name, sir!?” One reporter finally asked.

And even Vivi was looking past you in curiosity then as you took a breath.

That smug smirk did cut across his face in response. He was letting the drama build.

You felt his fingers grace across your bare shoulder with the style of your dress too, from his arm that was over the back of your chair as it actually moved down. And there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it in that moment.

“Donquixote Doflamingo.” The warlord announced himself.

The gasps went around the room as the camera flashes absolutely went wild again. The reporters were writing furiously in their little notebooks as well.

“King Donquixote!” “Are you here with the marines!?” “Was this a warlord assignment!?” “Has Dressrosa allied with Alabasta Kingdom!?” They all asked in competing shouts for his attention.

And as you stared across the room, you saw Vice Admiral Momonga now standing with his stunned officers beside an equally surprised looking King Cobra. 

Doflamingo’s hand only tightened even further on your bare shoulder at Momonga’s arrival however. That bit of your dried blood still coloring those long fingers.

The pirate was giving you no option, no warning as the fear grew further in your chest. How far was he going to go? You couldn’t stand from the chair, you couldn’t even walk away from him.

He knew that.

“I was here on pleasure, not business.” And he was beginning to smile truly then, fully understanding everything that he was doing to you now. “Dressrosa needs no alliances to prosper. We’re already wealthier and thriving more than we ever have been. But-“

His head turned to look down at you with renewed emphasis.

“This particular marine has impressed me as of late. Saving Princess Nefertari here is just the tip of the iceberg I assure you in what (Y/N) is capable of. So in recognition of this, I’m formally inviting her to Dressrosa. That’s the only alliance I’m interested in right now.”

He hadn’t even called you a captain there. He’d just said your goddamn name like it was already so informal. Which of course it was to him…but not in front of everyone. Not in a fucking press conference as you felt how uneven your breath was becoming. Momonga and his officers were still outright staring now, completely taken aback.

Was this what the beginnings of a panic attack felt like?

And Doflamingo must think that even then his intentions weren’t obvious enough here.

He wanted everyone to know.

Because with that quick dexterity that so few could have managed, his other hand had already grabbed yours. Specifically your paralyzed one, slipping it right from Vivi’s grip as if the girl had never had it at all. 

He was that entirely smooth in that quick movement. You couldn’t pull your arm back away from him if you’d tried.

“Doflamingo.” You finally hissed.

And you saw that dark smile in response. “Too late.” He whispered back.

And the King of Dressrosa brought your hand to his lips as he kissed the top of it in front of the flashes of those cameras. “Dressrosa would be lucky to have you.” He said louder for them to hear again. “What do you say, Captain?” 

You heard Vivi make a noise to your other side. Not a negative one either. It was almost an excited squeak. But the girl was too young to understand. This was not a romantic gesture on his part at all. This was not a fairytale or any proposal of lifelong happiness. 

You could lose everything you had fought for just from this abrupt power play. 

But if you humiliated Doflamingo in such a public forum by fighting back or even verbally rejecting him at all, the outcome would have been as certain as signing your own death certificate and likely those of your friends as well.

You knew that every single click of those cameras could be an image that Big News Morgans might print for the entire world by morning. Anything you did now would be eternal on the printed page. You wouldn’t be able to take it back. 

But for all your own fear and anger for being singled out this way…you still didn’t hate him.

And you couldn’t hurt him.

“Warlord Doflamingo…King Donquixote.” You said so very carefully. Somehow finding your own voice by adrenaline alone, as he still held your hand in that illusion of the interested gentleman suitor before the world.

“You are already my ally by the balance of powers that the marines have made and maintain with the warlords. And as the leader of the World Government nation of Dressrosa as well…of course it is also my duty to support you and your people however requested.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of your chest. You were waiting for him to still be angry. You knew the neutrality and almost cowardice you were choosing in your words here. But you were still trying to save yourself without sacrificing his pride.

But that false warmth in his response did not hesitate. Not for even a moment. “Then I’m asking you to head a new marine post that we’re going to establish in Dressrosa, Captain. Actually…I’m asking you to return to Dressrosa with me when my ship leaves port tomorrow. We can scout locations for this new post immediately once we reach my home country.”

He was going to take you anyway. 

And he was telling everyone here in real time, daring a soul to do a thing to stop it.

Vivi’s attempted kidnapping had been accompanied with all the dramatics of fighting and gunfire, and still been thwarted by you alone.

Yet your own abduction was now happening with only hollow words and camera flashes in front of an entire crowd who had every eye on you and this pirate. And no one moved to help you at all. No one even tried.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x crocodile #crocodile x doflamingo #doffy x y/n #doffy x you #doffy x reader #one piece fanfiction #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #doffy #doffy one piece #dofuwani #doflamingo’s marine

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Bells and Whistles (John Price x Captain!Reader)

Summary: This was far from what you imagined your first date with John would be.

AN: This is part of the "Star-crossed in the Crosshairs" universe, but you don't have to read that fanfic first. You can enjoy this as a standalone!

Thank you and special shout-out to @feedthemadness_sweetie on AO3 for commenting on near EVERY chapter of that series and motivating me to do some actually short slices of life for this series.

Bit of context: Reader is a Captain, they and John trained together before John was MIA for three years (and didn't contact them for the rest of the decade when he did get rescued). Reader has finally decided to give him a chance now that he's atoning for his mistake, and they're falling back in love.

"Star-crossed in the Crosshairs" Chapter 1 // Masterlist // AO3 Version

-----------------------------------------

“I’m sorry, but I fucking hate this.”

“Oh thank God, me too.”

So above your level was this restaurant that you’d been sent derisive looks when you’d requested to be seated near the fish tank wall. That wall turned out to be the highlight of this place. The menu? Incomprehensible, both in the style of writing and the combinations of flavours. The napkins? Folded into a shape you couldn’t have created outside of a dream. The chandeliers? More expensive than your flat, casting a thousand rainbows to be fragmented further by the glass displays dotted around this restaurant. Your outfit felt cheap, even though you’d technically splashed out on your first actual date with John. Speaking of, John was wearing a pressed suit with a bow tie you could tell he’d tied himself.

“Can we go please?” You asked quietly. John nodded and immediately signalled to the waiter. You’d barely had an entrée and a glass of wine so the bill didn’t take too long to arrive. Ripples of dull aqua wobbled over your hand, the bulb in the fish tank offering you no reassurance. An angelfish glided past your head whilst John slipped his card into the leather tab, and you pulled on your denim jacket, the one the egregious maître d’ had stared at for the longest second in your life.

A chill caught you off guard as you stepped outside. Glass shook in the door’s frame as John let it swing shut, catching up to you in two long strides.

“Sorry, love,” He said, his voice steel, but you could feel the dejection.

“It’s ok,” You took his hand and used it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him and slow the return to his car right down. Again, you were really glad to be leaving that place behind, behind with the conversation that was mainly catching up on the last few years and awkward silences.

Thankfully, John reduced his speed and his hand pulsed twice around yours, “I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“We’ve changed a lot, but I still don’t need all the bells and whistles.”

“You deserve the bells and whistles.”

“True, but not that many bells and whistles.”

True enough, on the glum walk through streets you hadn’t really paid attention to on the journey up, you eyed up a pub across the road that screamed “local legend”. When you pointed it out to John, he noted the giant bell hanging over the doorway in lieu of a hanging board. It took two minutes to get you both situated with your drinks and a laminated dogeared menu attached to a clipboard with all the classics in Georgia font. Much more your style.

“You’re not going to believe this,” John said, crinkles by his eyes clueing you in on a jest.

“What?” You followed where he’d indicated, sipping through your straw until you choked on it. A karaoke machine dazzled in the corner by a square of parquet flooring, acting as a flat stage.

“I’m not drunk enough to get up there,” You indicated to your J20 (orange and passion-fruit - classic), “And I’m not drinking anymore. You?”

He shook his head, “Young man’s game.”

“John. You just turned forty.” Your pause and emphasis were there to say “shut up, you’re hardly about to cash in your pension”.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Well, if we’re taking stock, I’ve got the knees of a grandfather in my ‘old age’.”

“Yeah, ‘cus you keep jumping off second-storey buildings and taking sledgehammers to them.”

A second elapsed then you and John both turned into piglets, snorting at his jab whilst your food arrived with a carousel of condiments. You grabbed the sauce bottle, shaking it to test if there was enough, whilst John shook a packet of salt to douse his chips in. 

Neither of you bothered with the paper napkins in your laps, protecting your debonair wear. The food was good enough that you didn’t have to talk through it, except to pretend to complain when John took a pickle poking out from your burger and you stole the extra crispy bit of batter from his cod. Worth it though, every time, to see that fake frustration fade into that dumb fucking smile that made him look like a cartoon and endeared you more and more. All that work put into atoning for you and forgiving him was made worth it.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price #captain john price #cod fanfic #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #my writing #series #r: gn

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 9- FINAL CHAPTER)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry and Y/N spend some time apart before reuniting just in time for Y/N's next heat.

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

Word count: 3.6K

CW: smut, knotting, p in v sex, heat cycle

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plans for your time in Palm Springs are greatly altered due to your unexpected heat. Instead of hanging out with Harry’s friends, you’d been stuck inside a bedroom for over a day riding out the waves of your heat. And now that it’s over, you still don’t want to leave the house.

The day after your heat ended and Harry had joined you at the house again, you had constructed a nest. And now you want to stay wrapped in its safe walls with your alpha. It’s common for omegas to withdraw in the days after a heat, needing comfort and reassurances from their alpha. Harry is more than happy to provide, though you feel bad about keeping him locked up in the house with you. Each time you mention this he simply says, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He does encourage you to get fresh air, so you take some time to sit outside on the deck, soaking up the sun. It’s just warm enough in southern California that you’re comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt, which does brighten your mood.

But most of the time is still spent inside. The world seems too big at the moment, there are too many people, too many dangers. In your nest there’s nothing but warmth, and safety, and the ever-comforting scent of Harry.

He flies with you back to New Jersey and you're grateful. While you’re feeling better after a couple days of cuddling with Harry, an airport full of strangers would be a bit too much at the moment. He’s able to stay with you for two nights before he needs to leave and start getting everything ready for the next leg of tour. Before he leaves you build another nest in your home and he once again showers you with compliments about how lovely it is. You’re sad when you have to say goodbye, but he’s taken such good care of you that your omega is recovered by the time he’s gone.

You have a visit with your doctor the following week and discuss the heat you’d experienced. Luckily you don’t need to go into detail, just letting her know when it started and how long it lasted.

“That was a bit earlier than I’d estimated,” she says. “I was expecting the end of February. Is there anything that may have triggered it?”

You blush a deep red and reply, “I had just been knotted for the first time that morning.”

She gives you a reassuring smile and says, “That could definitely be the reason. I do have to ask, was this something you wanted or did the alpha force himself in any way?”

“Oh nothing like that! It was with my alpha, completely consensual. I was the one to bring it up.”

“Okay good. Well in that case, everything looks great. You should expect your next heat to be maybe mid-April or early May. This will be a full heat, so it’ll be longer and more intense than the other.”

“Right,” you reply, a tremor of nerves in your voice.

“There are some things we can do and prepare to make it easier if you’ll be solo during it.”

She hands you a pamphlet with some helpful tips and you sit quietly for a moment. Finally, you say, “I’m thinking of asking my alpha to spend it with me.”

“That sounds like a good plan, as long as that’s what you want. Make sure to talk about everything ahead of time alright? What you do and don’t want, any rules he needs to follow and ways he can take care of you.” She hands another pamphlet and says, “Here are some tips on how to prepare for a heat with an alpha. Yes, we have a pamphlet for everything,” she finishes and you both laugh.

“You mentioned he travels a lot, is he nearby now?” The doctor inquires.

“No, he's traveling at the moment. I probably won’t see him until April.”

“Okay, you may experience some touch deprivation symptoms again since you’re separated after a heat. Hopefully not too bad but just keep doing what you did back in the fall.”

“Got it,” you reply.

You talk a little while longer and finally you’re on your way home. You’re not thrilled that the depri might come back. The chills, exhaustion and itchiness are never fun. But hopefully this will be the last long separation you have from Harry.

There’s a lot you need to talk to Harry about, like spending your heat with you, and what your ideas for the future are, but you want to do that in person so it will have to wait until April.

It’s another long few weeks without Harry. The days are cold, and at first you’re not sure if it’s the touch deprivation that has you chilled to the bone, or just the wind constantly whistling outside.

But when it gets harder and harder to get out of bed, and headaches become a near daily thing, you have to admit the depri is back.

Harry checks in with a phone call or FaceTime at least once a day, and sends texts whenever he has a free moment. You know that he’s always there for you, but your omega doesn’t understand this. The lack of touch, lack of pheromones, just overall physical lack of an alpha after having him so close sends your inner omega back into a depression.

One week before you’re set to reunite with Harry he calls you just like normal. But it’s been an awful day for you. A couple of your coworkers had recently quit, leaving you with an insane workload for the following days. The milk in your fridge had expired, leaving you without your normal tea and cereal for breakfast. It was finally a nice day out but the chill in your body remains. And your headache is worse than ever, and has you practically seeing double.

All in all, you're at your breaking point. You’ve been hiding how bad it is from Harry, not wanting to add more stress to him while he’s in the middle of a run of concerts. But just because you don’t say anything doesn’t mean Harry hasn’t picked up on how you’re feeling.

A couple minutes into the call Harry says, “Is everything alright, love?”

“Yea, everything is fine,” you lie.

“Darling, please tell me what’s happening. My alpha’s been on edge for days and I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

Suddenly there’s a feeling of guilt eating at you. It takes only a second to realize it’s your omega cowering at the fact you’ve upset your alpha. You have no choice but to explain the situation, so you tell him how you’ve been feeling.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you’re feeling badly again. I wish I was there to make it better,” he says once you’ve filled him in.

His kind words and gentle voice have tears springing to your eyes, but you quickly blink them back. Crying would only make the headache worse.

“It’s only a few more days, I’ll be okay,” you reply, annoyed at the shakiness in your voice.

The two of you talk a little longer and you’re truthfully feeling a bit better by the time you hang up. You spend the rest of the day working from your nest, the extra comfort helping as well.

That’s how you spend the next excruciatingly long week. When Harry finally knocks on your apartment door you open it immediately and slump into his outstretched arms. He somehow gets his bags inside, closes the door, and lifts you, carrying you to the couch.

He sits down and adjusts you so that you’re straddling his lap. Instincts lead you and you dive into his neck scenting him frantically.

“That’s it baby, I’m here. Take what you need, omega.” His words of encouragement help you settle, and soon you’re gently nosing along his scent gland. Once you have your fill you pull away, and Harry matches your shy smile with one of his own. He leans in next, kissing and licking along your neck to scent you in return.

Finally, you’re both satisfied and Harry moves to kiss your lips. You sigh against him, your entire being relieved now that you’re finally reunited with your alpha.

You spend a couple of quiet days together, Harry wanting to take it easy after weeks of touring on the other side of the world, and you recovering from the last of the touch deprivation symptoms. When you’re finally both feeling up to it, Harry makes reservations at a nice restaurant, wanting to take you on a date.

When you walk out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, Harry is standing there, looking absolutely stunning. You’re completely speechless looking at him, and he seems to be feeling the same as well.

He regains his senses first, walking closer to run his hands along your arms as he takes you in. “Darling, you look amazing,” he finally says.

You blush and reply, “Thank you. You look very dashing.” He smiles shyly at the compliment and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we be on our way?” he asks.

“We shall,” you reply, feeling happier and lighter than ever.

The date confirms what you’ve been thinking for a while now. Harry is a perfect gentleman throughout, and the comfort and familiarity you feel in his presence is unmatched. Conversation never halts, and you’re as happy to listen to him as he is to listen to you. It’s a lovely mixture of lighthearted topics, with a couple more serious discussions thrown in.

After the last bite of dessert is finished, and the bill is settled, the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. You walk back home, enjoying the mild spring weather, Harry’s arm wrapped gently around your waist.

There’s a shift once you get back to your apartment. Both of your scents deepen, lust swirling in the air.

“Alpha,” you breathe out, turning so your lips ghost against his.

“Yes, omega?” he replies.

“Take me to bed?”

“Anything for you,” he says before immediately making good on his word.

The next morning you wake up once more cuddled next to Harry. He’s still sleeping, and you take the time to reflect on the night before. You’d done a lot of talking, and it seems that many of his desires and life plans line up with yours. That plus the undeniable connection between his alpha and your omega confirms that the two of you are right for each other.

You know you need to ask him about your upcoming heat, knowing that it could start within the next couple of weeks. You’re mulling over how to bring it up when he wakes up beside you.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice gruff from sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully. Always do with you in my arms,” he answers.

He shifts so that he’s level with you and can press a kiss to your lips. You get lost in the moment, but there’s still so many thoughts swirling through your brain. Harry notices your hesitance and asks, “What’s wrong? What’s going on in your head, hm?”

You could lie and say it’s nothing, but he’s already opened the door for the conversation. After a moment to collect your thought, you state, “My heat should be starting soon. Maybe a week or so.”

He nods to show he’s listening, and you continue, “I was wondering if you’d want to spend it with me?”

“Baby I would love to. Is that what you want? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’m ready. And I would really prefer not to be alone. I want you with me.”

“Then I will be. I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll always take care of you, love.”

“Thank you,” you answer before bringing your lips to his again. It’s a sweet kiss, full of emotion and gratitude for this gentle and caring man.

Over the next week and a half, you and Harry plan for your first ever real heat. You look at the pamphlets, making sure to answer all the questions asked there, and filling in Harry on your preferences. You make a trip to the grocery store to stock up on foods you’ll both need. You blush when you see that Harry has also stocked up on condoms. While you both have said you want pups at some point, now is not the time.

One morning you wake up feeling extra clingy. You barely let Harry out of your sight. By early afternoon you’re turning on the air conditioning, claiming an early spring heat wave must’ve hit. Throughout dinner you’re itching with a desire to nest, which you begin to do the second you finish eating. It’s the first time you’re okay being away from Harry since you want to do this job on your own.

When it’s complete you find Harry as he’s finishing the dinner dishes. Without a word you take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

“Baby, it’s lovely,” he says when he sees the nest on the bed. “It’ll be perfect for your heat.”

“Do you think it’s coming soon?” you ask, looking for confirmation of what you’ve been questioning all afternoon.

“I do. Probably by morning, if your scent is anything to go by. How do you feel about it this time?”

“Still scared. But not as much as before. I don’t like that it’s going to be more intense and longer. But, you’re here so I think I’ll be okay.” You pause before correcting, “I know that I’ll be okay.”

“Yes, you will,” he says, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I promise to keep you safe, to take care of you however you need.”

“Can we take a shower?” you suddenly ask. Harry’s a little surprised by the ask, since you’d both already showered that day, but he agrees. He assumes that you want to make sure you’re both clean before entering the nest. It’s going to get dirty during your heat, but it’s important to start with a perfect nest to provide comfort.

After you’ve both washed you pull on boxers and an oversized t-shirt, the loose material the only thing that won’t irritate your sensitive skin. You climb into your nest, holding your hand to Harry in a silent invitation.

“Will you scent me?” you ask once he’s settled next to you.

“Of course, baby,” he replies before leaning in to fulfill your request. You fall asleep, wrapped in Harry’s arms and his delicious scent.

You don’t know what time you wake up, only that there’s no way you can fall back asleep even though it’s definitely still dark out. You’re burning hot, and there’s a feeling inside that you can’t describe. A desperate hunger, somehow mixing with a distinct emptiness. There’s a whining sound and it takes a moment for your fuzzy brain to realize it came from you.

The sound wakes Harry up, and he quickly springs into action.

“Hey baby, tell me what you need,” he says.

“Alpha. I need you alpha. Need your knot,” you reply. The little part of you that’s not fully under yet winces at how needy you sound, but soon Harry’s hands are on you and your mind goes quiet.

All you’re aware of is the feeling off his skin on yours. “Off, off,” you say repeatedly until Harry has removed your clothes as well as his.

“Please, alpha, I need you. Empty, so empty.”

“I’m here, omega. I’ve got you.”

You lay on your back, pulling your legs up towards your chest. It’s an exposed and vulnerable position, but one your inner omega knows will get you what you want. It works like a charm, and Harry wastes no time. His fingers reach you first and he growls at how much slick he finds.

Content with how wet and open you are, and moved by how intense your whimpers and begs are growing, he pulls on a condom and quickly lines up with your entrance. You sob in relief when he pushes inside, your hands moving to his back to hold him as close as possible.

As much as Harry normally goes slow with you, he knows that’s not what will help you. Maybe after a first knot he’ll be able to take his time, but right now he sets a quick pace in order to give you what you need.

Your voice reaches a higher pitch, alerting Harry to your impending orgasm. He moves a hand to your center, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. The feeling of your walls contracting is enough to have Harry coming as well, emptying into the condom as his knot expends inside of you.

You both catch your breath and Harry smooths your hair out of your face.

“How was that, omega? Are you alright?” He checks in with you.

“Good, alpha, so good,” you mumble out, a blissed smile on your face.

“Rest, baby. I’ll be here to take care of you.”

With that, you close your eyes, succumbing fully to the haze of heat as your alpha licks at your neck, surrounding you with his scent.

Your heat lasts four full days, and when you wake up on that final morning you don’t know how to feel. Traces of desire still linger, but nowhere near the level it was at before. You’re aware of your need to use the bathroom, and shower, and eat. Your first thought is that you’re relieved that it’s over. Your second thought is that it really was not a bad experience. At all. Having Harry there took something you were dreading and made it into something so special and enjoyable.

The heat haze makes it so you can’t really remember the experience, but you can remember the feelings. And what you felt was pure love and contentment. There’s no hollow loneliness like the last time. Instead, there’s fulfillment, a sense that all is right in your world.

Harry turns, his lips subconsciously finding yours as he begins to wake up. You melt into the kiss, but he must notice a shift from the last couple of days. He pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Hi, baby. You with me?” he asks.

“I’m here.”

“How do you feel? Are you alright?” You can tell he’s worried so you’re quick to reassure him.

“I feel wonderful. You were perfect, alpha.”

You see the relief written on his face before he pulls you in for another kiss.

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed making out with you, I feel gross. And hungry.”

That’s all you have to say before he springs into action. The two of you take a quick shower together just to rinse off before he makes breakfast with all of your favorites.

Both of you are still quite sore, so you decide to soak together in the bath. Once it’s filled Harry helps you in before sliding in place behind you. The hot water feels heavenly, and the bubbles give it a nice relaxing touch.

You’re both quiet for the first few minutes, lost in your own thoughts.

“I should probably call my doctor,” you say, suddenly breaking the silence. “See if I can get an appointment before we leave for tour.” You feel yourself getting excited. In just a couple of weeks you’ll be going with Harry to Europe for all of his shows there.

“That’s a good idea. What are you going to do? Get new prescriptions?”

It’s a good question. Back in the fall when your old medicines stopped working you were devastated. All you could think about was surviving the few months until you could get new ones that will work again.

But now it’s different. You have an alpha. You have Harry. And the answer becomes less clear.

After thinking for a minute, you realize you know exactly what you want and you say, “I don’t think I will. At least not like before. I might get a low dose of suppressants to make sure my heats have a regular schedule. And most suppressants also double as birth control. But I don’t want to completely hide my omega anymore. I did it out of necessity, because those meds were the only thing that kept me healthy without an alpha. But that’s different now. Right?”

“Yes, love. It’s completely different now. You have me. You always will. And if you don’t want to go back on such strong medication then I support your decision. I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

“Thank you alpha,” you say, and he replies, “Always.”

***

With Harry’s full support, you walk into your doctor’s appointment a week later with a plan. She also supports your decision to do a much lower dose of suppressants. By the time you reach Denmark for the first show, you feel better than ever before.

As you watch Harry on stage you know that you made the right decision. Sure, there are plenty of obstacles to overcome, but you’re confident that you can do anything with Harry by your side.

And when you hear him sing Fine Line live for the first time, you know that everything truly will be alright.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story! The main story is finished but I'm open to writing some extra oneshots so if you have requests let me know!

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