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sourwolf-sterek32 · 1 year

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Alpha’s First Daughter

Summary: You had been on your own for years after escaping the Whisperers. Until you run into a hunter in the woods who's searching for his brother.

The Walking Dead rewrite from Season 9 to Season 11 with you, Y/N, as Daryl Dixon's eventual love interest.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: language, blood,

Chapter 17-

While you walked around Alexandria trying to calm down, you came across a squirrel that had recently died just lying on the ground. You stared down at the dead creature before an idea suddenly popped inside your head.

It was a stupid idea.

Childish even.

But fuck it. You were over feeling like the bad guy, and it wasn't like Daryl was watching you. He was too busy with Carol anyway.

You grabbed the squirrel by the tail, Ace looking up at it in confusion before you turned around and walked into the cafeteria where a lot of the residents were busy eating breakfast. The second you stepped inside you spotted the group that had been harassing you. A few of the old members from the Highwaymen and that teenager Gage.

You walked straight up to them, plonking the dead squirrel on their table before you sat down causing them all to look at you in confusion.

Without looking at them, you pulled out your hunting knife from the sheath on your belt and began to gut the squirrel on the table, blood coating the wooden tabletop as you sliced the blade down the stomach of the squirrel.

"Oh, my God, what is wrong with you?" Gage questioned from beside you, his face screwed up in disgust.

"You're crazy!" Another one exclaimed. "Is this why Ozzie and Alek died? So, she could make a fool out of us?"

"Not here." Margo whispered, looking at her friends before glaring at you.

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze before you smiled, lifting your bloodied finger to your lips in a hushing motion.

"Shhh." You whispered, your grin widening as the group of them abruptly stood up and exited the cafeteria.

You watched them walk out the building, muttering more comments about how crazy you were before you reached over to Gage's bowl of cereal and placed it onto the ground where Ace was sitting.

You patted Ace's head as she ate the cereal before you grabbed the piece of bread and jam from Margo's plate and took a bite. Once you finished eating, you washed the dishes before walking back to the house and to your relief, Daryl wasn't inside.

Ace followed you downstairs, Dog already down there, sleeping on the couch before he heard you coming in and jumped up, barking in joy.

You chuckled, "well, at least someone is happy to see me."

You patted Dog before you walked over to the sink and began to wash the squirrel's blood from your hunting knife.

"You do wanna live here, right?" Daryl's voice suddenly asked.

You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking down the stairs, looking at you with an unreadable expression and you knew he had heard about the incident in the cafeteria.

"They deserved it." You muttered, looking back down at the knife before you sheathed it on your belt.

"I know." Daryl sighed, stopping at the foot of the steps. "But you can't be doin' shit like that."

"But they can just write whatever the hell they want on our door? Yes, I saw the graffiti before you washed it off."

'Silence the Whisperers' was painted on your front door with yellow paint. It was just one of the many things that you had noticed this morning that had pissed you off.

"I'll talk to 'em. I'll set 'em straight." Daryl insisted.

You shook your head, "don't. I don't want you to fight my fights for me, okay? They want me to give up. I know that. But I'm not gonna, okay? I can't. Lydia wouldn't want me to give up, so I can't."

Daryl sighed, looking down at the ground, "I get it."

You glanced back over at him and smiled softly.

"Can't ya just avoid 'em?" He asked and your smile instantly vanished.

"Seriously?" You asked, raising your eyebrow and Daryl's eyes widened, realising what he said was a mistake. "Whatever. I'm going to clear my head. Don't come looking for me."

You stormed past him up the stairs, Ace quick to follow after you before you walked outside to find it was now dark, the moon in the sky above you lighting up Alexandria perfectly.

You began to make your way over to your usual spot, wanting some time alone as you wandered through the clotheslines of towels and blankets, but before you could sit down on the grass like you usually did, Margo suddenly stepped out from behind the clothesline.

She grinned at you under the moonlight, lifting her finger to her lips.

"Shh." She hushed, mimicking you from earlier with a widening grin before she glanced at something behind you.

Quickly you turned around to find her friends now standing behind you and suddenly you had an awful feeling about this. The teenager Gage, you could easily take along with Margo, but the two bigger men might be a problem.

You began to reach for your sword, when suddenly Margo attacked you from behind. She somehow grabbed your sword at the same time she grabbed you, pulling your back into her chest as she held your sword against your neck.

You froze instantly, knowing just how sharp that blade was. Hell, you only just sharpened it yesterday. Damnit.

"Why do you hate me?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm as you stared at the men in front of you.

"You put my friends on spikes." Margo responded from behind you, holding the sword inches from your neck.

"I didn't fucking do it!" You shouted, slamming your head back.

The back of your skull collided with her nose. Margo grunted in pain before she yanked your Desert Eagle from your holster and slammed the gun against the side of your face.

You stumbled back a few steps, reaching for your forehead to find blood staining your fingers when you pulled them away.

"Ozzie was always a fair man. So, in his honour, I'm gonna give you one last chance. If you run away now, we'll play dumb when they ask us." Margo explained.

You turned your attention back to her, your gun still in her hands and aimed directly at you. But, you knew she wasn't stupid enough to pull the trigger. That Desert Eagle would wake up everyone in Alexandria. It was the men standing behind you that you were more worried about.

"This is my home. You're my people." You replied, but clearly that was the wrong answer.

Suddenly one of the men behind you grabbed you, throwing you to the ground.

You hit the grass hard before the group started to kick you while you were down.

They were shouting about how their friends' deaths were your fault, but the only thing you were focused on was Ace barking and growling in the background. You forgot she was with you and now you wished she had stayed home with Daryl.

The men continued to kick you until you heard something crack and you were pretty sure it was one of your ribs as you cried out in pain.

Suddenly Ace's growls and barks got louder before Margo screamed and then...

A gunshot cracked through the cool night air.

For a second, you thought that she had shot you. But, then you heard Ace yelp in pain.

The entire world came to a sudden halt. The men kicking you had stopped as they gasped in shock and you quickly got to your hands and knees. Your ribs were aching in protest, but you ignored it as you looked over at Margo.

Her eyes were wide in shock, the gun dropping from her hands as she stared at something on the ground.

You followed her line of sight and your heart shattered when you saw Ace lying on the ground, a pool of blood seeping into the grass from underneath her. Tears instantly started to rise in your eyes as you stared at her lifeless body.

"You just killed her fucking dog." Gage said in utter shock.

Margo seemed just as shocked, "it attacked me. I didn't have a choice-"

"You fucking bitch!" You screamed, springing to your feet.

You had no idea you could move so fast because a second later, your fist collided with Margo's face, knocking her out with one punch.

That was all it took for the men to snap back into action.

One of them grabbed your hair, yanking you back before another slammed his fist into the side of your face, once, then twice, then a third time.

"Get off me!" You screamed, slamming your elbow back into the man holding your hair.

Suddenly, one of the men tackled you to the ground, your back slamming into the grass painfully as he wrapped his hand around your throat, pinning you there. Out the corner of your eye, you could see Margo getting to her feet. Your sword was back in her hands and eyes full of rage as she glared at you.

"Let me go!" You shouted, but it was no use with the man practically sitting on top of you.

His fingers tightened around your throat like a vice before Margo stepped towards you, raising the sword when suddenly Negan came out of nowhere and threw her backwards.

You watched as Margo's head slammed against the wall, but you didn't give a shit about her right now. Negan punched the other man before grabbing the one pinning you to the floor and pulling him off you.

The second his fingers weren't wrapped around your throat, you began to cough, trying to get air back into your lungs, but every cough sent sharp pain radiating through your ribs as you winced.

"My-my dog." You whimpered, fresh tears filling your eyes.

You tried to sit up, but couldn't before Negan suddenly knelt beside you, grabbing your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay." He quickly said before glancing over at your dog. "I'll go check on her, okay? Just don't move, don't move."

"We were just trying to scare her. I'm sorry." You heard Gage say in the background somewhere.

Negan looked over at him as he stood up about to go check on your dog before Brandon ran around the corner.

"Yo, Negan. What the hell's going on back here?"

"Holy shit, Margo." One of the men gasped.

You tilted your head to the side, to find her lying on the ground. Her head bashed in against the wall that Negan had thrown her into, and your stomach dropped. Negan had accidently killed her.

"Shit." Negan sighed, coming to the same realisation as you.

Negan stared at Margo's body for a second before he rushed over to your dog still lying motionless on the ground and by the sad look on his face, you knew what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry, kid. She's gone."

A fresh wave of tears washed over you from where you were laying on the ground, pain radiating through your body. Negan knelt down beside you again, grabbing your shoulder before ordering Gage to get a doctor.

Within a few minutes, a huge crowd of people appeared around you, looking between you, Margo and Ace all lying on the ground.

"Y/N!" Daryl's voice shouted in the distance.

Quickly, Negan let go of you and got to his feet just as Daryl rushed over.

"I didn't do this." Negan quickly said, raising his hands. "They were attacking her and shot her dog. I was just trying to help your girl, I swear."

Daryl stared at Negan for a moment, before choosing to ignore him as he dropped to his knees beside you.

"Shit, Y/N. How bad are ya hurt?" He asked, cupping your face with his hands.

You couldn't stop yourself from crying as Daryl took in the cut on your forehead, busted lip and bruise already forming over your cheek.

You could hear the crowd of people talking in hushed whispers about Negan and how they shouldn't have let him out the cell.

But you were barely listening to them. All you could think about was Ace. She was dead. Your dog was dead because of you. Ace had tried to protect you and she died because of it. This was all your fault.

"How badly are ya hurt?" Daryl repeated, his worried blue eyes looking you up and down.

"Negan killed Margo!" Someone suddenly shouted.

That snapped you out of your thoughts as you tried to sit up, but Daryl wouldn't let you.

"No. it wasn't- He didn't do anything wrong!" You quickly yelled, looking over at Negan who was standing off to the side anxiously.

"Get him out of here!" Daryl ordered, pointing at Negan.

"No! Please, no. He didn't do anything wrong!" You cried.

"I know. I know. I know. I know." Daryl quickly said, his voice so soft as he looked back down at you.

"He didn't do anything wrong." You sobbed, curling in on yourself before Daryl shouted at Siddiq and Dante for help.

Apparently, you had least two broken ribs and a couple stitches on your forehead. The bruise along your cheek was nasty and you had a split lip, but other than that, the doctors said that you were going to be okay.

But you didn't feel okay.

Nothing was okay.

"Hold that right there." Dante said, placing an icepack against your ribs as he lowered your arm to show you how to hold it in place easily.

Dante rested his hand on your shoulder gently, looking at you sadly.

"All good?" He asked and you nodded weakly before Daryl walked into the room. "I'll be back."

You watched as the doctor walked out the room before looking down at your lap, tears burning in the back of your eyes as you thought of Ace.

Daryl slowly walked across the room towards you, tapping his fingers against the bench anxiously as he stood beside you. You could feel him looking at you, but you just kept staring at the floor.

"I'm so sorry this happened to ya." He finally said, but if you were being honest, you weren't really listening.

You heard him speak, but you didn't listen to the words. All you could think about was Ace. Her body lying in the grass bloodied and lifeless. It was your fault. It was always your fault.

"Y/N."

Daryl grabbed your shoulder gently, but you still didn't look at him. You kept your eyes focused on the small stain on the floor across the room, trying to focus on something that wasn't pain.

Physical pain, you could deal with it. You had your whole life but losing Ace... she had been with you for so long, she had been by your side for so long no matter what, but now losing her only a few months after losing Lydia... you couldn't do it.

"Everything I love, disappears."

"That ain't true." Daryl said from beside you.

You didn't realise you had said that out loud. But it was true. You lost your father, your stepfather, little sister and now your dog. They were all gone, and you couldn't do anything to save them.

"You still got me." Daryl whispered, squeezing your shoulder.

"For how long?"

You lifted your head and looked at him. His crystal blue eyes softening when they locked with your teary eyes.

"What do ya mean?"

You shook your head, too exhausted to explain.

"Doesn't matter." You whispered, barely even recognising your own voice.

Daryl didn't say anything for a moment before he stepped closer, his hand still on your shoulder as he leant against the bench you were sitting on.

"What happened out there?" He finally asked.

"Negan saved my life. I know you don't want to believe that. But Negan isn't the same man that he was six years ago. He's changed, and he saved my life."

Daryl sighed, but didn't say anything else as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him and that was all it took before you broke down in his arms.

Once you calmed down enough, Daryl took you outside and walked you around to the back of Alexandria where the cemetery was and showed you where he had buried Ace.

Daryl stayed with you for a few minutes before you told him you wanted to be alone. At first, he didn't want to leave you, not when you were injured, but you had reassured him that you've had worse and that you would be fine.

You sat beside Ace's grave for a long time. Daryl had made a little cross at the head of the grave, her collar wrapped around it.

"I'm sorry about your dog." Carols voice said from somewhere behind you.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a second, needing to prepare yourself to talk to her. You hadn't spoken to her for a few days and there was a reason for that.

"Thanks." You said quietly, not turning to look at her.

"Look, I know you might hate me for... well, for a lot of things. But, we both want the same thing."

You glanced over your shoulder, "yeah? And what might that be?"

"For Alpha to die."

"When you figure out how to do it, let me know. Until then, fuck off." You responded, turning back towards Ace's grave.

"I have figured it out. But I need your help." She said causing you to turn back towards her. "You're close to Negan and I need you to sneak into his cell and let him out."

"Why?"

"So, Negan can sneak into the Whisperers camp and kill Alpha from the inside. You in?" She asked, holding her hand out towards you.

"Hell yeah, I'm in." You said, taking her hand as she helped you to your feet. "Keep Daryl distracted for me. I'll get Negan out."

It wasn't hard to sneak into Negan's cell after dark. Laura was standing outside the front door while Daryl stood on the watch platform, both of them on night shift tonight. It was easy enough to duck around the back of the building without being seen, and even easier to pick the lock on the back door.

Negan seemed surprised when you stepped inside, but also seemed to realise that you weren't meant to be here, so he remained silent not wanting to alert Laura to someone else being inside.

You didn't say anything as you walked up to the door of his cell and picked the lock, Negan's eyes watching you intently before you opened the door and motioned for him to follow you. Negan hesitated for a second, but was quick to follow after you.

Within a few minutes, you and Negan were standing around the back of Alexandria beside the metal wall. Negan kept looking over his shoulder just waiting for someone to walk around the back of the houses and spot him, but it was the middle of the night, nobody was awake.

"You gonna tell me what we're doing?" Negan eventually asked, looking over at you.

"You're climbing this post and getting out of here." You explained, pointing to the wall. "Carol spoke with you earlier, right? She told you the plan?"

He nodded, "she did. I didn't think she was telling the truth though."

"She was. Now go."

Negan looked up at the tall wall before he glanced back over at you with a frown.

"What's gonna happen when they find out that you let me out?" He asked, and if you weren't mistaken, he actually sounded worried.

"That's not your problem, Negan. Can you do one thing for me though?"

"Name it."

"Alpha has three main men that she refers to as 'the guards'. They watch the horde during the night while the Whisperers sleep. Kill them for me."

Negan frowned slightly, "what makes those three men special?"

"They're bad men." You answered, looking away from Negan as you spoke, trying not to think about the things they had done to you while you were tied up.

"What did they do to you?" Negan asked a mixture of concern and fury lacing his voice.

"Alpha tied me up and practically gave me to them as a fucking reward. So, I need you to kill them. I don't care how you do it, I just want them dead."

Negan's expression hardened, figuring out what those men had done without you specifically saying it. But it wasn't hard to workout.

"I'm gonna kill them. I promise you that."

You lifted your gaze, looking back at him to find Negan's eyes already on you.

"Thank you. Now, get out of here." You said, not wanting to talk about this any longer.

Negan simply nodded before he began to climb the pillar of the wall, however he stopped halfway and looked back down at you.

"Be safe, okay?" He said seriously.

You smiled softly, "you too."

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countrymusiclover · 11 months

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10 - The Original Coffins

Part 11

Gemini Runaway

@dragonixfrye

Typing away at the phone number my cousin Jo had given me in case I ever wanted to talk with her and not use magic I pressed the phone to my ear. “Jo, it’s me. I understand if you are busy or something. But I have a magic question and you’re the only witch I can trust. Call me back when you can.” Hanging up the phone I heard footsteps coming up the stairs meaning it must have been Klaus.

He has been bickering with Stefan Salvatore after he had stolen the coffins that apparently held his remaining family members. But nothing had really happened in getting their safe return. Walking out of my room I followed him into the hallway seeing that his hands were clutching into fists at his sides. “I’m in no mode for company, Raelyn.”

“What happened this time? Maybe I can help you instead of threatening anyone in this town who actually knows where they are.” I offered thinking that the reason he couldn’t find them was because they were using another witch.

He ran a hand through his hair slumping his shoulders thinking for a moment. “It could be possible, Raelyn. What exactly do you have in mind to help me?”

“Simple locator spell. I used your blood since you are holding your other siblings. Since they share the same blood of your mother with you I’ll be able to find them.” I responded walking past him drawing a small dagger that I had used to cut my palm to do spells and one of the maps, gesturing for his palm once I placed the map on the bedside table in my bedroom. “Give me your hand please.”

He extended his hand where I held it over the map wrapping my fingers around his siphoning some magic from him. He winced slightly watching me turn his palm open, slicing the knife across allowing the blood to drip onto the map. “Why are you helping me exactly. Normally I have to force people to help me but you, you’re willing why?”

“Like I said once before, if anyone came after my brother I would probably do the same thing you are doing now shhh I have to concentrate…” I replied telling him to be quiet, needing to focus on the spell. “Ahsorum dolusantum infidictus.”

The blood moved across the map where I breathed out needing to remember the illusion spell so we could see where the blood stopped. According to the map the blood had stopped in a place that was referred to as the Bennett cemetery. “The bloody witch line!”

Klaus grumbled, making me send him a look mumbling another spell. “Hey, remember who is helping you here, Nikky. Phantamogriphiia decorum…Voye a sa fille.”

The bedroom around us disappears so when I opened my eyes once more scanning my gaze around the room hearing someone coming into the abandoned house that has a bunch of candles and witchy markings on the walls. Klaus steps beside me taking my hand is his. “What took you so long?” Damon appeared from behind the corner.

“You’re little witch is more powerful than I first thought.” The raven haired vampire responded walking over to us.

Klaus rolled his eyes at him. “Hiding behind your witchy friends. And in squalor, no less.” He suddenly grabbed his head screaming in pain meaning that the dead witches were using their magic on him.

“Klaus - ohhhh!” I called his name before I suddenly felt some pain shoot through my head making me drop on my knees.

“Freaky witch.” One dead witch spoke.

Another spat in my ear made me groan, bending my head on the ground. “A witch without magic is against nature.”

“Insulting a bunch of dead witches... Not smart. I made the exact same mistake first time I came in here.” Damon teased the hybrid.

Klaus stumbled to his feet glancing my direction hearing me moaning. “Well, you know the funny thing about the witches is that living or dead, they care about their own. A hundred dead witches have a thousand living descendents…” He grabbed his head again when the flames around us grew.

“Urgh stop it…Klaus!” Cried covering my ears with my hands begging him to shut up.

He rose to his feet grunting through his teeth causing the witches' voices to finally die down. “And I have no problem killing every last one of them if I don't get my coffins back. As we speak, my hybrid friend is prepared to end the Bennett line.”

“The Gemini Coven is coming for you little witch!” I heard another witch declare making me start crying in fear, finally feeling the pain completely disappear. Lifting my head upwards I gasped dropping my hands.

Klaus dropped down on his knees brushing blonde hair from my eyes, cradling my cheek in his palm. “Rea, Rae, sweetheart I’m sorry. I didn’t think they could hurt you here…Now. Please... Show me the coffins." He lifted his gaze up to the ceiling quietly asking the dead witches who made the coffins appear.

I attempted to stand on my own two feet but I swayed feeling dizzy. Luckily Klaus caught my body falling into his chest. My fingers gripped the gray material of his Henley shirt. “I know you didn’t mean it, Woah…urgh sorry.”

“What did I say about you apologizing to me, Rae. Can you walk with me, love?” He asked wrapping one arm around my waist where I felt something coming from my nose but I didn’t think it was anything. “Here we are. Where's the fourth? Show me!”

Damon shrugged his shoulders at us. “Well, ehh, here's the thing. They can't. It's not here.”

Klaus asked in a growl. ”What did you do?”

He explained. “Well, Bonnie gave me the head's up. I mean, I didn't have enough time to get all four, but I did have time to get one.”

“I will tear you limb from limb. And only then, when you are a writhing mass of blood and flesh, will I rip your heart from your chest. “ Klaus moved forward threatening the vampire, leaving me to lean my weak body against one of the coffins.

“Sorry the deal is off if you kill me.” He warns him simply.

Holding myself up on my right elbow I grunted, shifting my gaze in their direction. “Boys, can we do this the civil way possibly. I mean yes Damon if you did something like this to my brother I would do what he is doing right now probably too. But at this point it seems we can do this another way.”

“What do you mean like a deal over dinner, little witch.” Damon scoffed in my direction knitting his brows at me in confusion. “Is your nose bleeding?”

Raising my freehand up underneath my nose I drew it back seeing red on my finger tips. “Crap…I’ve never done this spell this long before.”

“We’re heading home now. See to it that your brother shows up at my house later. We can discuss a deal otherwise I will hunt for all eternity.” Klaus vamped over to me wrapping his arms around my waist whispering in my ear. “Take us back, Raelyn. You’re done.”

Nodding my head I shut my eyes and the next time I opened them we were back in the bedroom but I still felt woozy and tired. Laying on my back on the bed he came over to my side sitting down. “The Bennett witches know about my Coevn, Nik.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me…once again.” He muttered gazing down at me longingly. My blonde hair was sprawled out on the pillows and he could hear my heartbeat in a calmer state then moments ago.

Blinking my eyes I sat upright a little while my hands remained resting on my stomach, not sure I heard him correctly. “Did you just apologize to me?” He avoided my gaze giving me my answer making me smile seeing that he was slightly embarrassed. “Oh my gosh you did. And here everyone thinks you are the big bad hybrid.”

“Don’t go telling people that Raelyn or I’ll compel you to do something you’ll regret.” He teased me lightly with a smile.

Waving my index finger in his face I fully sat up so we were so close our noses could touch if he moved an inch closer to me. “You can’t compel a witch, remember silly.”

“No but I can do this.” He vamped slightly forward pushing me onto my back throwing my hair in front of my face.

I giggled moving it out of my view seeing that he was hovering above me now and we were still close like we were before. Raising my hands over my head I laid them on the pillow frozen looking at him like this. “Klaus!….”

“Don’t test the wolf in me, Ms, Lame. You won’t be able to beat me.” His blue eyes were brighter than I had ever seen up until this moment. He had a kind smile on his lips that made it almost impossible to not grin as big as he was.

I smirked a small grin testing this playful side in him that I had yet to see come to the surface so I was going to enjoy it for as long as possible. When he was happy it made all my fears disappear and made me forget that I was on the run from my entire family of witches. “And what would you do to me hmm?”

“Now you're insisting on a challenge, love.” He leaned his head down to mine where my heart quickened thinking he was going to kiss me until I felt his hand move to my sides beginning to tickle me on my hip and I couldn’t run away since he had me pinned between the bed and him.

I pushed my hands against his chest trying to squirm out of his grasp but I wasn’t trying as hard when I heard a beautiful laugh come from his lips. “Klaus…no…stop. I can’t handle….being tickled. Nik….Niklaus!”

“Do you cave yet?” He asked, making our eyes finally lock onto one another.

Pushing my hands against his chest I gently shoved him off scooting upright onto the pillows behind me. “Yes I cave. I’m going to get my revenge one day.”

“Oh I’ll be pleased to see you try, Rae.” He flopped down on his side of the bed placing his hands behind his head smiling until he heard a noise from my stomach. “Have you eaten at all today?”

Shaking my head no I pulled my knees underneath my butt shifting my body so that I was facing him. “Don’t take this as a weird question but could I see you in your werewolf form sometime. I've never seen a werewolf up close before.”

“You’re avoiding eating to ask me that question, Raelyn. I care about your well being.” He sat up straight scolding me.

Throwing my hands up from my lap a little I huffed not seeing the problem. “So no, I haven't eaten today. Can you answer my question please since I helped you possibly get your coffins back?”

“This is what is going to happen, love. We are going to get you something to eat and then we will talk about your offer.” He rose to his feet offering me his hands pulling me to stand. “So what do you want for dinner?”

“Are you saying you can cook too?” I question him.

“I can but I prefer to use vampire compulsion instead.” He responded back to me. “Now are you going to be picky about this because I have told you before that I don’t mind doing whatever I can to make you happy.”

Tapping my fingers on my arms when I crossed them over my chest I told the hybrid in front of me. “Boneless Buffalo wings would be good.”

“Done.” He turned on his heels about to leave but he spun around striding up to me leaning down where I blushed quickly thinking he might try to kiss me like we almost did on our first date. Yet he kisses my forehead instead before leaving the room. “Thank you for helping today. I don’t have many allies.”

“Neither do I.” I called out, making him halt in his tracks.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, sending me another smile in my direction. “From this day on we can look out for one another, Raelyn. I’ll see you later at dinner with the Salvatore’s.” When he had left the room completely I glanced around the room hearing my phone go off on the desk so I picked it up.

Flipping through the device there was a text message from the phone number Jo had given me but it didn’t make sense since she was enjoying her life away from all her Coven drama. I didn’t expect her to come find me. “I’m coming to Mystic Falls - EL…..that doesn’t seem right.” Locking my phone screen I tossed my phone down knowing I needed to find another outfit that didn’t have light blood on it from doing magic.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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angelofhell323 · 7 months

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ℂ𝕒𝕜𝕖

a/n: this is just a little something i wanted to post for spooky season. yes it’s inspired by melanie martinez’s song cake

TW: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of self harm, gore, kidnapping, toxic relationship, murder

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“Your skin is warm like an oven

Your kiss is sugary sweet

Your fingers feel like cotton

When you put your arms around me

I feel like I'm just missing

Something whenever you leave

We've got all the ingredients

Except you loving me”

The speaker vibrates as the song progresses, filling the room enough to shake Isla’s core.

“AND RESPECTFULLY I’M NOT A PIECE OF CAKE FOR YOU TO JUST DISCARD, WHILE YOU WALK A-WAY WITH THE FROSTING OF MY HEART! SO I’M TAKING BACK WHAT’S MINE YOU’LL MISS. THE SLICE OF HEAVEN THAT I GAVE TO YOU LAST NIGHT!” she belts out as she slices the onions. Eyes begin to water from the strong odor emitting from the vegetable.

“I really love this song. It reminds me of us, how you were so good at pretending to care,” she laughs breathlessly, “how you made me believe you loved me when you’d wipe away my tears and hold me as I cried.” Her hands tightened around the knife in her hand. She can’t cry, not here, not now.

“But of course, nothing ever lasts right? Because according to you, I’m a liar, I’m over dramatic, but whenever you showed up to class drunk it wasn’t self-harm, but if I were to slice my wrist, even just a tiny little cut, you’d be furious, right? According to you I never truly cared, yet all I was to you was a broken person you thought you could fix. My mistake for not showing you I wasn’t just broken, no I was shattered beyond repair, damn near dust,” she slides the onions into the olla. (pot/pan) She proceeds to grab the can of hominy and stabs the top to peel back the circular metal lid. Then hominy is dumped into the olla along with some basil leaves.

“Fuck, I really thought ‘Hey, there’s no way she could break my heart, she can’t. Because even if we break up we’ll still be friends’, that’s how much I loved you,” she says as she starts cutting the carne, “Notice how I said ‘loveD’. You fucked up cariño. That night, after like 2 weeks of you saying you didn’t know what you wanted to do, your wish was finally granted. When I had asked ‘Do you want to break up?’ you said ‘I don’t know’, so we broke up, because if you truly wanted to be in a relationship with me you would’ve said no. But then you said ‘You know I can’t be the one to do it’. You forced my hand, YOU made me break us up because you were too pussy to do so yourself! Fuck you for that. Yet I couldn’t get angry, I couldn’t be angry. Why? Because if I was I would’ve been the monster, I would’ve been the villain you tried so hard to lay me out to be. You kept telling me ‘Yell at me, be mad at me’. Finding any and every reason for me to become the monster you knew I didn’t want to become. You knew how I felt about my anger, I’ve worked so hard to get to where I was. And you kept telling me to stop telling our friends you forced my hand when you clearly did. Then I couldn’t even get over it cause you were constantly pulling shit from your ass and kept seeking attention from me. Why? ‘I like the way you look at me’ is what you said. But holy fuck, all you did was make it harder for me to forgive you. You kept saying I was being a bad friend. Well, you were a bad girlfriend. But like Melanie says, ‘If I’m just a piece of cake then you’re just a piece of meat to me’.”

She turns around to face the girl who once held her heart. She rushes to her side and holds her face, hands turning crimson from the wound on Carmen’s head. Isla checks the rope binding the girl to a wooden dining chair, she gives a light tug to be sure it’s secured. She looks back to the girl in the chair.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now Carmen, no no no. I’m making you dinner,” she coos, “I promise you’ll love it.”

Isla kisses her forehead, but the dull girl still has some spunk in her, “Y-you’re fucking psycho.”

“Oh baby, you already knew that. Just remember though,” Isla leans into Carmen’s ear, “you’re the one who brought it out.”

She proceeds to glare at Carmen, expression almost instantaneously changing to one of a happier tone, “Anyways. I’m going to make pozole, but the traditional way. What do you think?”

Carmen’s eyes widened, the only indication that she truly feared for her life. This caused the other girl to smile, she was in control of the situation.

The sound of a door creaking open causes both girls to turn and see a man walking in. Carmen sought this as an opportunity to try and seek help.

“Hey! Help me please, this crazy bitch has me tied up-” a rag was placed in her mouth and tied around her head to shut her up.

“Geez, shut the fuck up,” Isla sighs.

She proceeds to walk up to the man and kisses him in front of her ex, “Ay mi amor, you’re home.”

“What’s this?” he asks.

Isla smiles and starts to bounce on her heels, “Dinner! I wanted to do something special for you.”

A smile finds its way to his and his expression softens, “What’s for dinner?”

“Pozole,” she replies.

His smile widens and looks at the girl gagged and bound to one of the kitchen chairs. He walks up to her and gently slides his hand down the side of her cheek.

“You’re almost too pretty to eat,” he says softly, his voice however changing as he grips her chin harshly, “Pero has hecho daño mi corazon.”

Those are the last words Carmen hears, as Isla plunges the knife into the girl. Making sure to avoid important organs and arteries. She wants Carmen to watch as she carves out her heart. She wants her to feel the knife carving up her skin, she wants her to know how it feels to have your heart ripped from your chest. So that’s exactly what Isla did. And that night the pozole was the best it’s ever been, seasoned just right and the meat tender.

#death mention tw #triggering content #tw triggers #tw murder #tw cannibalism #tw kidnapping #tw death #short story #melanie martinez

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slimearchon · 3 years

Text

Arataki Itto x GN Reader He Breaks Your Back Prank

🍮- is my signature for my fics @slimearchon

Word count: 1662

Warnings: Mentions gang related violence and him trying to hurt himself.

Title: Arataki Itto x GN Reader He Breaks Your Back Prank

Summary: The title pretty much explains it all.

(Picture not mine credit to owner!)

🍮-When your friend Thoma told you about the prank you didn’t know what to do with the information. Sticking pasta in your mouth and waiting for someone to hug you and act like they broke your back didn’t seem like something you could pull on anyone.

🍮-That was until you met your big Oni man. The gentle giant with sharp horns and killer muscles seemed like the perfect person to execute the prank on. It helped that he was utterly smitten with you.

🍮-Anytime your paths crossed he would nearly run you down in his pursuit to give you a big hug. It didn’t matter your size, this man would pick you up until your feet no longer touched the ground. His thick arms tightening around your frame like cobras wanting to squish the life out of their prey.

🍮-You had to say that out of everyone you knew he did give the best hugs ever.

🍮-So even when your body was being crushed into his and the air in your lungs would be pushed out a bit you didn’t mind his surprise affection when he ambushed you. You felt safe and warm in his giant arms.

🍮-You almost felt a little bit bad about what you were going to do to the big lug but a voice in the back of your head reminded you of the time when you invited him over to your house for a sticky honey roast and the big male had eaten the entire thing before you could even get a slice.

🍮-You had turned your back to go to the kitchen to fetch the side dishes and came back to him ravenously placing the last piece in his mouth and chewing furiously, the pleasant smile on his face and twinking in his eyes almost made your anger disappear.

🍮-“Itto, what have you done?” You gasped, your eyes looking above and under the floor-level table like suddenly the roast would spontaneously appear under it. You nearly dropped your tray of mashed potatoes in shock.

🍮-The look on his face was that of a fox who was told he wasn’t supposed to eat the bunny sitting right in front of him. If he had furry ears they would be twitching in confusion.

🍮-He somehow thought that the roast was his serving and yours was still sitting in the oven. Once he realized his mistake he was downright hitting his head on the floor, bowing to you to show you his remorse.

🍮-“I’m so sorry! Forgive me.” You winced, worried for your hardwood floors when his head and horns thudded against it.

🍮-You had saved a pretty penny to buy that roast and stayed up all night babysitting it in the oven, you were upset over it but couldn’t bring yourself to stay angry at him when he plucked a knife from the table and stated he would give his left pinky to show you how sorry he was.

🍮-“Itto if you chop off your finger I will never talk to you again.” You wrestled with him on the ground for a few minutes. He only stopped when you said you had an even better way to punish him.

🍮-The rest of the dinner went by with you pointedly demolishing all the sides, making you watched as you ate every delicious side you had made for tonight in hopes of sharing a meal with him. The bacon, onion, and green beans being the first thing you put into your mouth.

🍮-The fluffy cream cheese cornbread was next, then the mashed potatoes and gravy, and finally the banana pudding dessert.

🍮-He sat across from you with a haunted look, eyeing every morsel that went into your mouth and not his. You would think you picked a torture method that one of his gang used with the way his face contorted in pain with every bite like you were yanking his nails out.

🍮-Now he won’t even touch the food until after you served yourself when he comes over to your house. He took you out that week to a BBQ place to make up for it, it was a great meal so you called it even.

🍮-Until devious thoughts of pranking him floating in your mind. You had gone out and bought another roast and recreated the meal you both weren’t fully able to enjoy, to eat with him after the prank, your weak heart couldn’t take the fact if he ended up mad at you.

🍮-You knew he could never stay mad at you if he had a full stomach.

🍮-You knew you didn’t want to do it in the middle of the town, knowing the big guy would cause a scene and draw way more unnecessary attention to a silly prank. So you had written to him that you would be out picking fruit from trees and would love it if he came along to help you with his tallness.

🍮-You were waiting for him in the middle of a grassy meadow, you had heard the whisper of grass swishing past his big booted feet and prepared yourself for his crushing hug. You already had the pasta in your mouth and in between your teeth.

🍮-“Sweet one!” He happily yelled, your back facing him so you weren’t about to see his beaming smile.

🍮-He rushed over to you, throwing out his big arms in delight at seeing you. It had been over a week since he last saw you, he missed you each day that had passed, seeing your handwriting on the letter you sent him warmed him from horns to toes.

🍮-His big body crashing into yours, lifting you off the floor with ease, it wasn’t until he tightened his arms around you that you crunched on the pasta, letting out a small gasp to sell it. Then you faked limp in his arms.

🍮-The crunch that reached his ears nearly shattered his heart.

🍮-“Sweet one?” He mumbled, stunned in shock at your limp form in his arms. His eyes gazing down at you not fully comprehending what he was seeing. When you did not move to reassure him of your wellness he dropped to his knees.

🍮-He was always cautious of his strength, knowing that the Oni blood in his body gave him more power than an average human. When the little kids would use his body as a jungle gym he often felt like a hundred-year-old tree supporting butterflies on its branches with ease.

🍮-He laid you down onto the ground, being careful not to move you around too much, his head thumping in his ears it was hard to hear anything else.

🍮-You felt his hands ghost across your body, trying to find your injury but also too afraid to touch you again for fear he will injure you further. Your heart clenched, feeling his anguish even with your eyes closed.

🍮-The emotion caused you to unknowingly hold your breath. This was the final nail in the coffin for Itto. Seeing your chest go still caused a wail to tear through him.

🍮-“No! Sweet one!” He yelled, his lungs burning and tears falling from his eyes and onto your skin. “I’m so sorry! I won’t hug you again, please just come back to me.” He sobbed, his hair brushing against your arm as he sobbed into the lush ground.

🍮-The sound of his crippling sadness made you end your little prank, bursting up from your laying down position and drawing his body into a deep hug, cradling his big head, not minding that his horns were poking into your chest.

🍮-“I’m sorry Itto, it was just a prank.” You rapidly explained, rubbing his back and head, trying to pull him out of his despair.

🍮-He looked up at you, his eyes teary and bloodshot. “A prank?” He sniffled, not fully believing that you were fine and this wasn’t something his mind conjured up to keep him sane.

🍮-“Yes, look.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out a handful of pasta, you put on into his mouth and forced his jaw to bit down on it. The familiar crunching sound rang through his head. His sorrow was quickly being replaced with anger.

🍮-“How could you do that to me. I thought I had killed you.” He hissed, his eyes narrowing, he knew for sure that you weren’t hurt so he didn’t waste any time pulling you into his lap, his big hands going to your ribs and sliding his fingers over them just to make sure.

🍮-“I know! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would react that way.” You apologized, running your hands through his hair and scratching him near his horns just the way he liked it, hoping to ease his anger.

🍮-It worked a bit, his anger now coming out in indecipherable grumbles.

🍮-“I know what will brighten your mood.” You softly whispered into his ear, leaning down some to drop a kiss on his cheek.

🍮-A faint blush dusted his ears and cheeks. “What?” His stubbornness melting away at your soft actions.

🍮-“I made sticky honey roast again.” You hummed, nuzzling your face into his cheek.

🍮-His big hands on your ribs splayed open for a second before clamping down on you and hoisting you up over his shoulder. He even picked up the fallen fruit basket before darting out of the meadow and towards the direction of your house.

🍮-“With green beans? How about cornbread? What about the mashed potatoes and gravy.” He asked, tightening his grip on you so you wouldn’t fall.

🍮-“Of course, everything is waiting for us at my house, already on the table.” You cooed, giggling at his sparkling ruby eyes.

🍮-“I love you.” He hummed, his long legs eating up the distance to your house at an impressive pace.

🍮-“I love you too.” You smiled, loving him with all your heart. Even if he did eat your first pot roast and leave you nothing.

(Edited)

Please like and reblog to show that you enjoyed my work! It really motivates me to write more. ❤

#arataki itto #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #fluff #x reader

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

the moment they knew | ushijima, daichi, bokuto

characters: hq captains (ushijima, daichi, bokuto) with gn!reader words, genre: 1.5k words, fluff + slight angst. warnings: none! summary: in love, there’s a moment where everything falls into place and you realize that there’s no one else you’d rather spend forever with. | part one (with oikawa, kuroo, kita)

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI;

admittedly, ushijima is not the best at relationships

but you brought out sides of him that he didn’t know even existed

and because he’s so in love with you, he finds himself looking for ways to surprise you

he doesn’t hesitate to try new things because all he wants is to make you happy in the way you make him complete

When Ushijima comes home, the first thing he notices is the other pair of shoes sitting by the entranceway. He smiles as he walks all the way to the kitchen where he heard a commotion.

Though your back was turned to him, seeing you in his apartment instantly relieved him of his exhaustion for the day. He hurriedly goes over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you to his chest.

“Wakatoshi,” you turn your head back and give him a peck on his cheeks. “Welcome home.”

He shows you one of his rare smiles and reciprocates your kiss with his own. “Thank you, love.” He rests his chin on your shoulders and watches you quietly as you prep the ingredients.

“Do you want to help cook?” You were already expecting him to just hum and leave you to the dishes while he sets up the plates. So it was a genuine surprise when his hands left your body and retrieved the apron (it was a matching set to the one you were wearing) from one of the drawers.

He silently took his place by your side, and took the cutting board and the knife from your hands. You watched in awe as he skillfully sliced the onions in perfect shape.

“Do you need me to cut the carrots too?” You hadn’t noticed that he’s finished until you heard his voice close in your ears. That night, the two of you cooked together for the first time and there was something so intimate and so special about it.

“This feels nice,” you commented as Ushijima now worked on slicing the raw chicken fillet. “I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

“I’ve been practicing.” His answer surprises you. You can’t help but imagine him watching cooking tutorials and the thought makes you smile.

“Really? And what exactly motivated you to learn how to cook?”

Ushijima stops and turns to you with the warmest look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t want you to do all the cooking in the future.” He grasps and kisses the back of your hands. “I wouldn’t be doing my job as your partner if you don’t let me serve you too.”

You don’t know which of the two takes your breath away—the way he looked when he said those words or the indirect proposal he just made. Either way, you were already looking forward to the future he’d just proclaimed.

SAWAMURA DAICHI;

your friends always said that daichi seems like the type of guy you’d bring to meet your parents

they weren’t wrong. he was the best partner anyone could ever ask for

you often find yourself wondering if marriage was ever on his mind

what you don’t know is that daichi had been carrying a ring box everyday since college graduation, just waiting for the right moment

Daichi clutches the material of his coat, hugging his body tighter as he stood and waited in front of your office building. He spots you walking with a friend and his lips curl upward into a smile. When you turn to look his way, he feels like a giddy high school boy as his heart skips a beat at the eye contact.

You bid your friend goodbye and run towards his waiting arms. He grunts when you throw yourself at him, laughing as you relax in his hold and he runs his hands over your back.

“You worked hard today. Shall we get your comfort food or do you want me to cook at home and prepare you a hot bath?”

You smile as you consider your options. “I like the sound of the second option.”

He takes your hands and brings it to his lips to plant a soft kiss along your knuckles. “Let’s head home then.”

The two of you begin a silent walk to your apartment complex. Lately, he’s been busy with his police work that he’s rarely had the time to stop by You take a glance at him, trying to remember as much of his face for as long as you can. Because you never know when he’d ever have the luxury of spending time with you like this.

He notices you staring, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.” You mutter. “Work has been keeping you too busy. It’s like you’re married to your job and I’m just your side piece.”

He laughs loudly that other passersby have turned to look your way. He says nothing, only squeezing your hands and looks at you with a glint in his eyes.

When the two of you arrived at your apartment, you made a beeline to the living room and planted yourself on the couch. You heard footsteps nearing and stopping at the side of the sofa.

Daichi had kneeled beside your position, his face inches away from yours when he calls your name. At the sound of his voice, you open an eye and see him holding out a ring in front of you. You sit up immediately, mouth hanging open as you search for the words to say but he beats you to it.

“You said earlier that you feel like I’m married to my job, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that but,” he pauses to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “But my job can’t compare to you. At the end of the day, I’ll leave work and come home to you.”

You’re both crying messes when Daichi takes your hand and positions the ring on your fourth finger. “Will you marry me?” Of course, you said yes.

BOKUTO KOTARO;

bokuto loves with his whole heart and he treasures you like you’re his world

your steadfast feelings made him confident and assured

but whenever a fight breaks between the two of you, his resolve always crumbles

when he realizes that nothing scares him more than the fact that he could lose you, that’s when he makes a promise

When Bokuto wakes up, he instinctively reaches for the other side of his bed and his heart drops when he feels nothing. He jolts up, eyes frantically searching his room for any sign that last night was not a dream.

He’s getting ready to stand up when the door opens and he sees you enter the room with a tray of breakfast in your hands. He scrambles on his feet and you’re surprised when he takes the food and places it on his desk before his arms make their way to hug you.

“I thought you’d left me again,” he mumbles in your neck. When you wrap your arms around him, Bokuto sighs and sinks further into the embrace. “I’m really sorry.”

It all started because of a petty fight. The two of you had been so busy with your own work that neither of you had time for each other. But the one time you’d both been home at the same time only resulted in an argument that led to you giving him the silent treatment for three weeks.

And those weeks were like hell for Bokuto. After that fight, he’d immediately realized his mistake and he’d called and messaged you but to no avail. Last night, you’d finally returned and Bokuto was more than relieved to see you.

“Let’s not fight ever again.” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “It was stupid of me to blame you for not having time for me when I’ve also been so occupied.”

“Bokuto…” You cup his cheeks and he closes his eyes as your hand gently caresses his face. “I’m sorry too. And I promise I’ll never disappear on you again.”

If there was one thing that he’d realized during the time when you were away, it’s that he could never live without you. He also couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your hurt and pain so he makes a promise.

He leans so close that you could hear the drumming of his heart. “I’ll never do anything to make you sad again. When we first got together, I told you that I’d only make you happy.”

You smile as you remember that moment when he’d asked you to be his. It was one of the best days of his and your life.

“And that’s what I’ll do from now and for the rest of our lives.” He’s inching closer and closer, your lips just a few millimeters away until you say something.

“What you said just now sounds like a wedding vow.”

He laughs, surprising you when he turns and plops down with you on the bed. He’s hovering above you playfully, “Baby, wait until you hear the rest of it.”

—

📝: @markysaurs (send an ask if you want to be included in my taglist!)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hqcorenet #haikyuucreations #haikyuucafe #ushijima x reader #daichi x reader #bokuto x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #hq headcanons #hq x you #haikyuu x you #this got way longer than i originally intended hehe #also i am having writer's block my wips are rotting XD

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0097linersb · 3 years

Text

Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 3

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: hEy guys, I’m SO sorry for 1. taking so long for this shitty chapter and 2. I will no longer be tagging new people simply because I am so lost and I feel like I will miss half of the people who asked so I don’t want to make anyone feel forgotten or upset

THIS ISN’t PROOF READ I SUCK I KNOW I hate thIS STORY

☼ previous / next ☼

The next morning you woke up before Jeno, you tried to silently sneak out to give him the chance of pretending nothing happened, in case he decided it had all been a drunken mistake and it should be forgotten. Your plan was proven kind of difficult with the whole having to untangle yourself from the man and unzipping the tent open situation, bright sun rays suddenly filling the space. You winced at the light and tried to quickly close the door back up, startled by a groaning sleepy Jeno who confusedly sat up and rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to get out,” You apologized.

“Oh, ok. What time is it?”

“I have no idea, my phone died.”

The man searched for his phone among the covers and sighed when he realized he had run out of battery too. You awkwardly stared at each other, not really knowing if one of you should bring up what had happened or just casually move on.

“I don’t think the others are up yet,” You tried to start a conversation before the tension could swallow you up.

“Probably not. I’m still sleepy though, could go for a morning nap,” He smiled before lying back down, you were thankful he was trying to end the awkwardness too.

“I love morning naps.”

“Come join?” He asked with hopeful eyes and you nodded before practically throwing yourself back into his side, careful to not touch him in case he wasn’t interested and you didn’t want to impose yourself. You turned your back to Jeno and closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep in seconds, but was surprised when you felt the man’s arm silently wrapping around your waist and his chest pressing against your back before lazily whispering a “Good night” against the back of your neck. You smiled contently to yourself, hearing Jeno’s breathing get heavier and slower as sleep took over him, following his steps soon after.

The second time you woke up, was to a screaming Jisung. You and Jeno both jumped awake, startled, before running outside thinking there was a snake or something dangerous like that. The two of you were soon staring at the young boy judgingly, looking between him and the cockroach on the floor.

“Jisung, it’s dead,” Jeno sighed, trying to not get annoyed at the young man.

“It’s still moving!” He whined, still refusing to go down from the camping chair.

“They do that,” You sighed too, giving up on trying to make sense of the situation and approaching the boy with your hand out to help him down. “C’mon, help me to put the things back in the truck so we can go back to the Inn.”

Jisung reluctantly did as you said and Jeno started to wake up the others, everyone folded their tents and picked up the trash in silence, too tired and hungover to play around. If looked from afar, one might have you mistaken for extras on a zombie movie.

As you arrived back at the Inn, everyone crawled into their rooms without muttering a single word. You took advantage of the moment to take a shower since you were still in your bikins and Jaemin’s sweater, feeling completely disgusting after a day (mostly a night) of sweating. You were deep in your nirvana state of mind, enjoying the hot water relaxing your muscles and finally cleaning your hair of all that lake water, when you heard a bang at the door. You jumped in shock and looked over at the door instantly.

“Whoever is there, please let me in, I really need to pee!” Jisung screamed, fist still knocking on the door in urgency.

“You can use the bathroom downstairs!”

“Cockroaches,” He squealed before letting out a loud whine. “Please, I’m going to explode.”

You lightly groaned at the inconvenience before quickly shutting the water down and wrapping your towel around you, opening the door and signaling to Jisung that the bathroom was all his. He banged the door shut and you leaned against the hallway wall, waiting to return to your very good shower that you were missing very much after experiencing the chilly wind outside.

“Is there anything wrong?” Jaemin asked after opening his door, seeming like he had just woken up from a deep slumber.

You tried to act casually, like you weren’t standing around in just a towel, “Everything’s awesome.”

Jaemin had his mouth open to start saying something else when another door opened, an annoyed Haechan appearing behind it, “Who’s yelling and why?”

“Jisung needed to use the bathroom,” You explained, feeling way to exposed and embarrassed to elaborate.

“Can’t a guy ever sleep in peace?” Renjun’s suddenly appeared from his room, whining at his friends and rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“Ok, can everyone please stay inside their rooms for the next 30 seconds?!” You requested loudly in frustration, kind of laughing internally at the way Jeno was midway through opening his door before muttering a sorry and closing it back in super speed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Renjun apologized before going back to his nap, but you didn’t miss the way he gave you a once-over first.

“Enjoy your shower,” Jaemin smiled at you before copying his friend.

Haechan simply stood there staring at you and you looked at him in expectation and a ting of annoyance. The man smirked at you before winking, “Looking good.”

“Yeah, and very much naked, so if you could like, just go inside for a minute,” You politely requested.

“But that’s very much what I’d like to see,” He playfully flirted with a low voice so no one would hear, slowly approaching you. He gave you no time to react as he looked down at your chest, right hand suddenly pinching your hardened nipple and you gasped in surprise, “Cold?”

He looked up at you with a teasing look and you nodded with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to what he was playing. Haechan whispered a “cute” against your ear before returning to his room with a smirk, right on time for Jisung to open the door, “Thank you so much! I’m sorry for interrupting your shower. I think I had the content of two whole wine bottles in my bladder.”

“It’s ok,” You assured him absently, still bothered by Haechan’s antics. You honestly had thought he was all bark and no bite, you two have been playfully flirting since day one and you had guessed it was just part of your friendship dynamic considering you both always laughed about it.

Well, you could do nothing about it except from seeing where life would take you two.

_____________________________________________

After showering, you prepared some yogurt bowls with fruits and granola for breakfast, figuring you could all have a late lunch. Jaemin came downstairs after an hour and helped you out, stopping you from murdering another poor orange.

“Do you think everyone will be up for an activity today?” You asked, hoping they would opt for a more relaxing afternoon, as you were pretty much tired and hungover yourself.

Jaemin softly laughed, “If the activity is dying on the floor of the living room, yes.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Slept late?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you almost dropped the knife you were holding.

Does he know?

“I went to bed right after you did, red wine is just not my friend,” You awkwardly laughed, trying to calm your mind down. He couldn’t have heard anything over the loud singing yesterday and Jeno probably didn’t tell him.

Jaemin said nothing to that and you both enjoyed a semi-comfortable silence until he offered, “Want me to teach you how to peel an orange?”

“Theoretically speaking I know how to do it, I just can’t make my hands actually work,” You laughed, but moved closer so he could show you anyways.

“I’ll teach you an easier way then, it’s not ideal but it’s better than losing half of the orange,” He teased and you glared at him. “You just have to cut it in half like this, and then like this. Actually you can cut it as many times as you want to. When they are in slices like this you can just use your fingers to pull the peel away.”

“Oh, I think I can do that,” You exclaimed in excitement, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Hey, do you by any chance have more of that pineapple cake?”

“Chenle finished it but I can go to town to buy some more when we’re done with this. You can come along if you want to, they have a lot of options.”

“That sounds great.”

The two of you managed to quickly finish decorating the bowl, even adding some pretty flowers Jaemin went out to pick on top of it. After placing it all in the fridge so it wouldn’t become a mess until the others woke up, you scribbled down a note letting them know you had gone to the city and would be right back before heading outside to the car.

“Can I drive?” Jaemin asked jokingly, knowing your car was very dear to you.

“If you crash it, you’re giving me that watch,” You rolled your eyes, throwing the keys at him, who looked surprised at your compliance but laughed excitedly when catching the keys. His watch was probably worth more than your car anyways.

You hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat and tried to not say anything as Jaemin left the property in reverse, you hated riding shotgun.

He did look kind of hot, though.

“I know how to drive, you know? You don’t have to grip the handles so tight,” The man laughed once you were already on the road.

“I’m just not used to not being the one behind the wheel,” You apologized, forcing yourself to relax your hands on your lap so you wouldn’t offend a man’s driving’s skills. “Turn right on that street. Did you enjoy skiing?”

“I did, yesterday was just a fun day as a whole. You also looked really pretty in my sweater,” He looked at you softly and It took a lot of control for you to not melt into the seat.

“I’m giving it back as soon as I wash it, by the way. Thank you again for not letting me freeze.”

“Don’t worry. You can keep it, it looked better on you.”

“Jaemin, I know you’re trying to be a gentleman and all but that’s a Balenciaga swea-“

“And I’d like for you to have it.”

“I’m really living everyone’s fanfic’s dreams, aren’t I?” You giggled softly.

“Do you read those?” Jaemin chuckled.

“Of course. I live in the middle of nowhere, anything to pass the time. Follow that Sunny Mountain sign.”

“Ok. You should teach me how to find those, I’m curious as to what our fans write about us.”

“Uh, you really shouldn’t.”

“Dirty stuff?”

“Lots of it, probably.”

Jaemin laughed at that but said nothing more, deciding to pay attention to the road for once. You were distracted trying to find a cool Spotify playlist on your phone when you felt the man’s hand on your thigh, he didn’t move it and he didn’t look at you, just staring straight ahead with a casual demeanor like it was something you did all the time. You said nothing about it, just enjoyed the touch and followed his lead.

As you arrived at the city, you directed Jaemin around until you were parking right in front of the little traditional bakery.

“Good morning, Mary. Looking beautiful as always,” You complimented the old lady behind the counter, who you have known since you were a little girl. “Please tell me you made some pineapple cake.”

“My dear, if I didn’t I would run out of business,” Mary laughed. “I’ll wrap one up for you.”

“Thank you. Jaem, do you want to try something else?” You asked, pointing to the display in front of you full of a variety of cakes, which this region was famous for. “This is a banana one, it’s so good. The wine one is also tasty.”

Jaemin shivered at the word wine and you laughed because honestly, same.

“The banana one sounds good,” He agreed.

“Mary, I’ll take one half banana, half peach.”

The boy looked at you surprised that you remembered his favorite fruit and you just smiled at him, showing you were also paying attention.

“On it. Is that your boyfriend? I’ve been praying for you to find someone to keep you company in that big old house for ages,” The lady started, taking the cakes from the displays to cut them for you.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You joked, winking at Jaemin who gave you a teasing smile back. “But unfortunately he’s just a guest at the Inn.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, but it’s a pleasure to meet you anyways. Maybe it’s better this way, my Gus would be jealous.”

You laughed in joy at the mention of your childhood summer friend, “How is he? I miss him!”

“He’s doing amazing,” She answered with a smile when talking about her grandson, placing the cakes’ halves on a plastic plate. “He just graduated last year, rented me a fancy dress and all.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that! I need to congratulate him. When he’s back in town, can you ask him to drop by the Inn really quickly? We’re having some internet problems as always.”

“Of course, dear. He will love that, I bet he’ll come around by the weekend. Here’s your cakes! I’ll put it on your account.”

Jaemin helped you getting one of the boxes from the balcony and you got the other.

“Thank you, Mary! Have a nice day!”

“You kids too!”

You carefully placed the cakes on the back seats, wrapping the seatbelts around it so they wouldn’t move during the transportation as Jaemin looked around, appreciating the view.

“The city is pretty cute, right?”

“It is, actually. Is that an ice cream place?”

“Kind of. But they do have an ice cream buffet.”

“That sounds awesome, can we go there?”

“I guess the cakes won’t go bad in the car if we’re quick.”

“They won’t, it’s kind of cold today.”

“Right? I thought I was sick or something,” You complained, pouting at the temperature change.

“Here, let’s go freeze,” Jaemin laughed, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders and leading you across the street.

______________________________

You figured you liked Jaemin. As in, you really liked Jaemin. He was just so easy to talk to and a genuine funny caring guy – You didn’t see much of those anymore.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the town turned into a 2 hour long tour around all the little spots the city had to offer, playfully taking photos of each other like you were in a romantic movie or something. When you finally went back to the Inn, your heart was swollen and your cheeks were hurting from smiling too much.

“Be right back my ass,” Haechan welcomed you with a grunt.

“We took long but we brought cake,” You pinched his pouting face.

“Ok, I forgive you.”

“Are you guys hungry?”

“For cake? Yes,” Jisung excitedly exclaimed.

“I meant for real food, it’s past lunch time.”

“We actually just ate breakfast, Jeno is still sleeping,” Renjun informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll cook today,” Jaemin messed with your hair and you glared at him.

“No, you won’t. You’re a guest here.”

“And I’m a great cook, so get your ass back in bed and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“That’s rude of you, Na Jaemin,” You joked.

“Learning from the best.”

You glared at him but decided to accept your fate. After your nap with Jeno and your shower, you were not sleepy anymore, so you decided to invite the rest to sunbathe in the lower deck by the lake. Haechan and Mark were happy to join and the three of you sprawled around under the blue sky after changing into your bathing suits. You were struggling to get sunscreen on your back and Mark silently asked for the tube in your hand, doing It for you as Haechan blabbed about League of Legends – It was really hard to hide the chills across your skin when you were wearing basically no clothes.

After Mark got over being awkward because of your exposed skin, he was actually one of the most fun people to be around that you had ever hung out with. He literally laughed and got excited over everything you and Haechan said and it made you feel special, you definitely understood his charms now. Also, with him being from Canada and all, you two had a lot more in common than you had imagined, which was revitalizing.

Soon enough, both boys started bickering over something and you just closed your eyes and tried to drift off, this was supposed to be relaxing time. But then again, it was hard to put relaxing and Haechan in the same sentence.

After what seemed like ten minutes of the men next to you arguing, you suddenly heard your name and opened your eyes begrudgingly with a “Huh?”

“Help us. Who’s right?” Haechan asked.

“I ain’t even listening, I’m sorry.”

“Haechan over here seems to think he has a bigger chance with you than I do,” Mark smirked and you chocked around air. What kind of demon possessed Mark Lee’s body?

“Of course I do, don’t I?” It was Haechan’s turn to smirk at you and you just stared between them totally lost. They were arguing about song lyrics a few minutes ago, what the fuck happened? “So? Who’s right?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” Haechan lifted an eyebrow at you in a challenging way.

“Let her speak,” Mark cut him off and you felt goosebumps up your body once again at his strict tone. Damn, that was definitely not expected from Mark Lee.

“This is very unprofessional,” You muttered in shock, not really knowing what to say.

“Oh, c’mon. You think I didn’t hear your little show with Jeno the other night?” Mark laughed darkly and you shrank into yourself.

“What? What happened with Jeno?” Haechan asked confused.

“Nothing,” You quickly inform, trying to end that conversation.

Mark tsks and softly put your hair behind your ear, looking at you with endearing eyes, “Our pretty Y/N had some fun times with Jeno in their tent, didn’t she? Tell Haechan.”

You gulped and turned to Haechan, only nodding in shame because you were not about to admit you sucked his friend out loud. The boy’s eyes only widened and you could see Mark’s smirk from the corner of your eyes, what a wicked man.

“Guess none of us have a chance, then. Since Jeno got to you first,” Mark played and you briskly shook your head, feeling how you were already pulsing between your legs. The man raised an eyebrow at your reaction, like it wasn’t what he had planned, “Oh?”

“Please,” Was all that you managed to let out. Too embarrassed to elaborate.

“Kiss her,” He ordered and you noticed he was talking to Haechan, who smiled widely before bending down to capture your lips.

His kiss was playful like his personality, his hand found its place behind your neck and he lightly nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth, not allowing you to deepen the kiss like you wanted to. When you whined in frustration, you felt his smirk against your lips before he harshly grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, his tongue finally against yours.

Well, this was not how you expected your day to turn out.

You were so focused on how good it felt to melt into Haechan, that you jumped in shock when you felt Mark’s fingers playing with your bikini bottoms.

“Look how wet she it, Haechan,” He commented like he was hypnotized by the view and you two broke the kiss so he could look at where his friend was staring. Mark’s middle finger started to lightly circle your clit over the fabric and you moaned, hiding your face in shame. You were probably about to have sex. No, not sex. A threesome. With your guests!!!

“Y/N.”

“What?” You groaned.

“Y/N!”

You uncovered your eyes annoyed only to find Haechan and Mark staring at you weirdly, sitting up on their own beach towels like well-behaved boys.

“Did I fall asleep?” You asked confused.

“Yeah, we thought you were having a nightmare so we decided to wake you up,” Mark explained softly and you gulped.

“Thank you, it was horrible,” You lied, heart beating fast and chest heaving.

Mark and Haechan went back to arguing while you tried to recompose yourself, but as soon as Haechan shot you a knowing smirk, you quickly got up and left, figuring you could play cards with Renjun or something.

____________________________________

Jaemin didn’t lie when he said he was a good cook, and not only that, but he was also an organized worker, washing and cleaning everything right after using it. What a dreamy man. You were still too bothered over having a weird wet dream with your guests, who were right beside you, to think much about how amazing Jaemin was.

After everyone had lunch (and you decided to sit far far away from your sunbathing partners, safely cuddled between Chenle and Jisung at the end of the table), you washed all the dishes left while Jeno dried them, thankful that you two managed to not let things go south after your little encounter.

The Inn still had no internet so there was nothing much you could do with everyone being tired, so like Jaemin predicted, you all sprawled around the living room’s floor and played some games. After a few hours, you started getting tired of playing and turned the Tv on, trying to find the least terrible channel the Tv’s antenna could pick up, settling on a game show that got everyone pretty excited. Somehow you ended lying on Jaemin’s chest and you noticed Jeno giving you a look but couldn’t quite catch what he meant with it. He seemed normal with you after it, so you decided to let it go, realizing you were only overthinking things.

For dinner, you all had some leftovers from lunch and lots of cake. You had spent so many hours talking that you felt like you have known these boys since forever, or at least you wanted to. There was just not a moment around them when you weren’t laughing or smiling, and besides the obvious sexual tension moments, it felt really comfortable to be around them. Of course they could be annoying and inconvenient at times, they were men after all, but it was not hard to get over that.

Surprisingly enough, even after sleeping until way past noon, the boys were still tired and went to bed early with the promise of fun adventures for the next day. You and Renjun stayed back in the balcony talking about life and art, looking at the stars and drinking a glass of wine. It was nice sharing your deep thoughts with someone who matched your intensity and excitement, Renjun was indeed an artist and you loved experiencing the universe with him for a night.

When it was around 1 in the morning, the two of you said goodnight with a soft smile, knowing you two now shared a bond.

Entering your room and turning the lights on, you were surprised to find Jeno playing with his phone on your bed.

“Hey,” You offered confused.

He gave you an eye smile before dropping his phone on the bed, “Hey.”

“So, you’re in my room…”

“Just wanted to ask if I could sleep with you, it’s nice.”

“Oh, ok. Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just change,” You agreed and laughed at the way Jeno covered his eyes when you grabbed on the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, “I think we’re way past that, Jeno Lee.”

“Sorry, it’s automatic,” He explained as he dropped his hands back on the bed, watching you silently as you changed into your pajamas. You sleepily climbed into bed next to the man, both of you lying on your sides and staring at each other. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” You softly breathed out. This seemed all too familiar.

He delicately pressed his lips against yours, hand grabbing your cheek so his thumb could soothingly caress your cheek. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the soft touches, reciprocating the kiss with the same fluttering intensity. Jeno simply did that for a few minutes before breaking away from you and smiling, “Sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you.”

“It’s ok,” You giggled, content and in peace.

taglist: @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae @deantrblismyhusband @yukheisworld @chippijunxiao @kkakkdugi @luvenshiti @sleep-is-all-i-seek @aka-minhyuk-kun @elithereal @jenniferecand @tacojisung @tiramisubox @hobicore-smut @renjunniex @markresonates @hufflepanda221b @ncttboo @neejaatjeh @heyyyun @yutaalove @iwishihadabettername

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themangolorian · 3 years

Text

skillet bread and mangoes

For @kanejweek Day 5: Love (atypical affection, domesticity)

Pairing: Kaz x Inej

Warnings: only sickly sweet domesticity here

Someday you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. Padjen recalled the morning she had overheard her beloved husband telling their young daughter those words.

Her eyes wandered the countertops of the Van Eck mansion’s kitchen. Golden mangoes overflowed from a wicker basket, ripe enough that the kitchen smelled sweetly of the rare tropical fruit that had been a favorite of Inej’s in childhood.

...even if he is too poor to give you any of them, her husband had continued. There was no shortage of expensive scarce goods here; Kaz Brekker had made sure of that, though Inej would not tell Padjen exactly how. But Padjen was no fool - she knew it meant no less that Inej’s favorites were easily in Brekker’s reach thanks to his great wealth. She knew he would have acquired the mangoes no matter the amount of gold in his pocket.

Padjen turned her attention back to the dough at her fingertips. She folded the bread under and over itself, under and over, as she had a million times before, eyeing the dill just to the side of her pan. It would go in on the last fold.

A familiar tap and step sounded from the hallway. Sure enough the door creaked open to reveal Kaz Brekker, the boy who had mysteriously paid their passage all that time ago.

He has brought her knives and death, not flowers and songs, Padjen recalled fretting at her husband only days after meeting Kaz Brekker.

Only one woman loves knives with the names of Saints, her beloved husband had responded sagely. Padjen had put her fingers to her lips, then her chest, in the holy gesture of her Saints.

"You're back," Padjen said now, clearly pleased.

Kaz Brekker nearly never smiled, but Padjen had always been intuitive at sensing the moods of others, and this one wasn't too far from happiness - dare she say, maybe even joy.

A split second later, it was clear why. A bullet of a child zoomed through the doorway just narrowly missing running right into her father's legs. The little one, Padjen's pride and joy, had been a gift bestowed upon them by the Saints, and Padjen had been thanking said Saints every day since.

"Matka!" The Suli word for grandmother in the tiny child's high-pitched voice always made Pajden's heart melt.

"My little love," Padjen exclaimed, scooping the small girl up.

"How's it coming along?" The voice of Kaz Brekker was something akin to listening to one stone pave way against another.

"Your nose will tell you better than words ever could." Padjen beamed at him.

Kaz eyed her bemusedly. Now I see where Inej gets it from, he'd told her once with more warmth than she'd ever heard him express before at that time. When she'd asked, he explained Inej's partiality to proverbs. You mean wisdom, Padjen had corrected him, smiling. But he'd never been mocking of their ways, only observant.

"Did you find the rosemary then?" Padjen eyed Kaz Brekker's hands, which were empty but for his cane.

"No, but-"

"...she likes it better with dill." Padjen said along with Brekker.

And it was true. When Padjen had first been reunited with her daughter and the enormous wealth that came with that, Padjen had made skillet bread with rosemary, but Inej had scrunched up her nose, lamenting the lack of dill.

Only one woman loves dill skillet bread, Padjen could imagine her husband commenting.

"Can I ha'?" Padjen's beauty of a granddaughter pointed her chubby fingers at a tray of pastries Padjen had toiled away all morning making. Not that she hadn't had any help. Kaz Brekker himself had joined her to make and shape the dough.

They were to celebrate the day of Inej's birth this night around an open fire.

"You may have anything your little heart desires." Padjen leaned forward to tickle her grandaughter's little belly to the sound of shrieks and giggles.

"You spoil her too much," Kaz complained, brushing his hair back, but there was no mistaking the ghost of a smile as he watched his daughter eat.

Padjen clucked her tongue at Kaz in vexation. "And what do you call buying her her own gondol equipped with its very own grisha security spells, jamatr?" The Suli word for son-in-law.

Kaz raised a careful eyebrow. "Cautious." But there was a pleased air to the gesture. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the title.

The little girl in Padjen's arms began to squirm excitedly, her face now coated in sugar and jam. "Guess what Papa said he's going to get me next, Makta!" The little squirmed her way successfully out of her grandmother's arms and was flying back towards her father. She landed with a whump against him, bouncing excitedly up and down as she gazed up at him adoringly.

"Now-" He began, looking conspiratorially down at his daughter.

“I spoil her,” Padjen huffed under her breath sarcastically. "Let me guess," she harrumphed, turning her back on them to attend to the skillet bread dough. "A pony? A ballet troupe? An island?"

Padjen heard the door to the kitchen re-open.

"Papa promised to get me my own knives!" The little one announced proudly to Padjen's absolute and utter horror. She turned swiftly, but Brekker had already retreated up the hallway.

“Kaz Brekker!” Padjen called after him helplessly. He’d known she wouldn’t leave the skillet bread dough unattended. It had been his idea to make it, but Padjen, whatever she wanted to say, loved to spoil her daughter as much as Kaz Brekker did.

***

"What was all that about?" Inej had just been about to go see what all the ruckus in the kitchen had been about when Kaz had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Your mother isn't very happy about the knives." He said almost carelessly as he shrugged out of his coat.

"My knives?"

"The little knives." Kaz nodded discreetly at the case stored in secret across the way.

"What about them?" Inej demanded, affronted.

"I don't think she wants her to have them."

Kaz shucked off his gloves where they joined his coat in a heap on the chaise. He leaned down and kissed Inej deeply.

"Of course my daughter is going to have knives." Inej said, offended, as soon as their lips parted.

“She’s your mother,” Kaz shrugged, but his lips tugged at the corners as he parted to go greet Jesper and Wylan.

Inej blanched. “She likes you better.” She called after him, but he only laughed dismissively.

Later, sitting around the fire in the garden, surrounded by her family and closest friends - really, all family - Inej found herself full and satisfied.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” Nina was cooing, cradling the remains of a golden mango and ignoring Matthias’ glare.

Inej giggled and had to silently agree. She was about to get up to get another serving when a shadow fell over her. She looked up and her lips broke into a grin. Kaz was balancing their child on one hip and a tray of mango slices in his other hand, accompanied by salt, chili and lemon, just as she liked.

“Mmm,” Inej said as way of thanks, taking the tray.

Kaz dropped to the stool next to hers, swinging their child around to his lap.

“Mama, you’ve already had four,” the little girl trilled, holding up three chubby little fingers.

Inej captured the tiny hand and brought it to her lips. “And I shall have more,” she pretend to gobble down the tiny little hand to the joyous shrieking, giggling and running away that usually accompanied such an attack. The little girl sprinted to her grandmother to seek refuge, laughing all the way.

“You’re lucky you claimed Brekker first,” Nina was lamenting, jealously eyeing Inej’s tray.

Kaz scoffed at her side, but Inej took up one mango slice and leaned over across the way. “Here.” She said, feeding it to her friend. Nina’s face was rapturous.

“You were right, it’s so much better with lemon.” Then Nina was trouncing across the yard, Matthias at her heels, to get her own tray of similarly decorated mango.

Inej grinned, placing another slice of mango between her lips. The sticky juice, cool and sweet, ran down her chin. Her eyes met Kaz’s. Then, one long, pale finger came to her jaw, hesitated and then swiped gently at the juice.

Inej stared at his face, soft as it was for all its hard edges, and was lost for a moment.

“Thank you.” She murmured, wanting to kiss him deeply, wanting more, and knowing it wasn’t the time. She was thankful for more than the gesture, for more than the fruit, and it was enough that he knew that.

“For what?” His lips twitched and she elbowed him lightly before plucking up another mango slice.

Inej had mentioned it in passing, years ago. Her favorite fruit. It had still been a delicacy then, something she hadn’t had but had craved since childhood.

She had blinked long and slow when the first shipment of golden mangoes had arrived at their doorstep not long after. He pretended not to have known what she’d been so excited about. But when she’d served herself a mango, cut into slices and smothered in lemon, salt and chili, he had thereafter ensured no shortage of all four items in their pantry.

“What?” Kaz asked, uncertainty painting his voice as he watched her watched him with what could be nothing less than longing and love.

That boy would bring you the sun if he thought it would make you happy, her mother had once told her after Kaz had gifted her a particularly expensive new knife.

That’s impossible, Mama, Inej had replied, laughing.

Exactly, her mother had said, something all knowing in her eyes.

“I have a gift for you,” Inej said suddenly.

Kaz’s left eyebrow tilted dangerously. “On the day of your birth celebration?”

Inej nodded and absently placed the tray down on the floor at her side, her craving for mango forgotten. She turned slightly to take hold of a package she’d hidden under the fabric of her stool.

Kaz’s face was cautious, careful and curious all at once. “What is it?” He asked as she placed it in the open palms of his hands. The package was light as a feather.

“Open it,” Inej barely breathed at him.

With the quick help of his deft graceful hands, Kaz plied the box open- and froze.

His eyes slowly found Inej’s again.

Inside the box was the tiniest hat, an exact replica of the one Kaz wore every day. An exact replica of the one he’d asked Inej to buy him all those years ago.

His eyes darted to her flat stomach where her hand had rested absently. “Are you sure?” He asked, fighting a smile, but it was a losing battle as Inej said-

“Yes, my darling Kaz, treasure of my heart.” Inej had meant to mock those words he’d spoken to her all those years ago, but her heart felt too full of love, she could almost not speak.

Kaz barked a surprising laugh, and all heads around the fire turned to look at them. It was a pity, as Inej wanted nothing more than to lean forward in that instant and kiss him silly. But Kaz had never been one for public displays of-

The thought was chased from Inej’s head in an instant when Kaz brought his lips crashing down on hers.

“Oi, save some sugar for the rest of us!” She heard Jesper crow at them distantly.

***anyway, food is my love language, and i adore mangoes, and my headcanon is that inej would too, so kaz would stop at nothing to get them for her. and also all the crows’ palates became more refined once inej’s mom showed up. they only eat the very best now 🥺 and she was horrified that all they were subsisting on before was waffles and hutspot***

#help #domestic kanej has taken me prisoner and wont let me go #not that i want it to #kanej week 2021 #kanej week #kanejweek #kanej #kaz x inej #inej x kaz #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #kanej fanfiction #my stories #domestic kanej #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows #crooked kingdom

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

the parent trap — levi ackerman (iv)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst??? and feels, i think

— summary: after assuming that everything was starting to shift further away from the plan, the people in the ackerman estate found out the identity of the boy mirroring the twin they know so well.

— word count: 8.6k (i know, i had to do it bc it's been so long)

— author's notes: finally, after weeks of not touching this series, i finally updated it. this part is centered around the reveal in levi's side of things. to those who watched the movie, you know things will go down from here. happy reading everyone !!

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

The news that was dropped on Altair last night stole away every ounce of sleep from him.

At first, he felt like everything collapsed on his shoulders. His mum is getting married? In what universe? There wasn’t even a decent man in a five-meter radius around his mother, well, except for her employees at the bridal shop. Nonetheless, all of the men trying to court her were turned down in an instant but why was she getting married to an idiot when he was away from home? The number of times he ran his hand through his hair and wishing everything was perfect can’t be counted on his fingers. First, it was that Cindy woman and now, an unknown man wooing you with serenades and God knows what in London has added himself in the list of pesky outliers. There shouldn’t be outliers in the first place. Throughout the night, Altair made his mind busy by making adjustments in their plan, eyes fixed on the ceiling in concentration.

The next thing he knew, daybreak dripped on his eyelids, peeking through the spaces between his curtains. Altair sat up on his bed and rubbed his eyes free of sleep crust before turning to his alarm clock on the nightstand. A red 9:34 glared at him, telling him he overslept. The boy huffed and plopped himself back on the plush mattress, his pillows swallowing him whole as he tried to give himself more hours of sleep. His five-minute doze was interrupted with a knock on his door. It took everything in him not to shout ‘five more minutes' so he decided to might as well wake himself up by walking to the door and answering the person on the other side.

Petra’s face beamed at him and Altair had to narrow his eyes because Petra’s smile was too bright for his own good. It was like looking too long at the sunrise.

“Good morning, Al!” the redhead greeted him.

“Morning, Petra,” Altair replied, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

Petra waved him off. “It’s fine. I expected it yesterday since you just came home from camp. You must be so tired. Why don’t you go take a bath and change and come downstairs for some breakfast? I’m sure this will wake you up — I cooked your favorites.” The boy nodded at her suggestion. She tried teasing him by calling his name again, Altair turning around to acknowledge his nanny with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’d probably oversleep, too, if I were up in the middle of the night making mysterious phone calls from my bathroom. It’s pretty quiet in here at midnight so I think that pretty much exposed you.”

Altair froze at Petra’s inquiring tone, blinking his speechlessness. In an instant, he doesn’t feel sleepy anymore. He scratched his undercut. “Uhm, it was a friend from camp. He just wanted to talk to me, that’s all.”

The redhead hummed as she crossed her arms. “Ooh-kay. Well, your breakfast will be waiting on the kitchen counter!” She shouted while making her way downstairs.

“Okay!” Altair yelled back.

He opened his closet and took out a blue flannel, a white undershirt, and a pair of jeans. Without wasting any more time, Altair got himself ready by taking a bath just as Petra suggested and made himself presentable once he reached the kitchen. His hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his shoulders when he inhaled the savory smell of breakfast on the first floor. As Altair sat on the high counter stool, Petra turned around from cutting up fruits and placed too many plates in front of the boy with a smile. He couldn’t control the twitch in his eyebrows as he stared at his breakfast. Is his twin really eating this much food every morning? He realized he might be coming off as rude since he was only staring at the number of bacon slices on his plate so Altair took a bite of bacon and let the sound of knives against the cutting board flit through his ears.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a cup of rose tea?”

Petra stopped cutting the mangos and stared at Altair, who was immersed in doing small bites of his breakfast. The redhead stared for a moment and assessed the way Altair picked up his fork and knife — it was the same way a certain someone did back in college when Levi’s friend group and lover ate meals together. Now that Petra remembered it; when you gave birth to the twins, she mentioned how one of them inherited the shape of your eyes. It could be a trick of the light but Altair’s eyes were softer in the edges instead of the sharpness Levi adorned, the boy’s eyelashes slightly fuller than usual.

“Petra?”

The said woman jumped at the mention of her name, with Altair’s face scrunched up in worry at her lack of response. She cleared her throat while transferring the mangos in a small bowl, sliding it towards Altair. “Yeah?”

The silver-eyed boy rose an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look like you were in a trance there.”

“I’m fine.” Petra washed her hands before wiping them dry with a clean towel. Her gaze went from the boy’s expectant stare to his unfinished breakfast. This was weird. Altair usually never leaves any leftovers on his plate, it was what Levi taught him since he could eat on his own. Pushing this matter at the back of her mind, she smiled. “You’re not going to finish that, Al?”

Altair looked down on his half-eaten scrambled eggs, bacon slices, and still full pasta salad. He only had a couple of bites from the last dish and wished he could eat more but the two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs made him full in an instant. His stomach couldn’t handle too much in an early hour. He needed the tea to wash all this down. “No, I’m not, I think I’m full,” he answered, patting his stomach with a grin. He hoped Petra wouldn’t notice that his appetite wasn’t like his twin. That idiot (his twin, never Petra) appeared small like him but the buffoon has a vacuum inside his torso, always hungry at the wee hours of the day. If this was roast beef, this was a different story. “Must be because I’m tired from the trip. I don’t feel like eating and moving around too much.”

Petra nodded in understanding, preparing the rose tea the boy requested. She was waiting for the water to boil as she glanced at Levi’s pride and joy. “So why rose tea?”

“Pardon?”

Pardon? With a suppressed chuckle, Petra turned around with an incredulous expression on her face. “Camp made you prim and proper, huh? So why rose tea, champ?”

“Because I thought it would be nice to try the flower teas instead of the fruit-flavored ones this time. I know Dad has been experimenting with flowers for the next blends.”

Petra hummed, letting the tea steep for a few minutes. The scent of roses immediately wafted across the kitchen, making the two sigh in contentment. Petra wasn’t one for tea but smelling the pink drink made her want to try one. She presented the cup of rose tea to the black-haired boy, who was leaning forward to finally have his drink, his silver eyes sparkling at the small petals floating on top of his tea. Petra knew she was watching Altair closely but all her doubts flew out the window when she witnessed the boy hold the teacup the same way Levi does. Maybe she was looking into this too much. She shook her head and took away the leftovers, placing them in containers.

She missed the way Altair blew out a sigh of relief, a small half-smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

Altair stood up from his seat, patting his lap from imaginary dust and placing the towel from his shoulders to the back of the counter stool. He took a long sip of his tea before grinning widely at his nanny. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Petra!”

“No problem, kiddo. Oh, and your Dad wants to talk to you about something. He’s in his office.”

“Okay!”

The black-haired boy walked past the archway leading to the living room, where the glass double doors to the patio were located. Snuggling on the floor and chewing on his toy was Levi’s golden retriever, Captain. Altair flinched when he saw the dog shift their head in his direction. A series of barks came out of the pet, making the boy hurry for the handles of the double doors. His heart was pounding when he couldn’t get the doors to open, pulling on them as Captain was now standing up to give him another round of barks. It caught the attention of Petra and the woman instantly shot to the living room but not before shouting something that made Altair’s ears turn red of embarrassment.

“Push, Al.” Petra was now wrapping her arms around the dog, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Altair stopped for a moment, twisting the handles of the double doors and pushing them just as Petra said. He turned around with a sheepish smile, chuckling nervously because this mistake might have lost him the plan. “Must have slipped my mind.” He had never gotten out of a house that quickly in his entire life.

Only when he stepped foot on the patio that he could breathe normally. Altair kicked a pebble on the pathway, hands snug inside his pockets, as he thought about what his father will tell him. He followed the pathway until he was met with a slope, a building looking the main estate was sitting on top of the small hill overlooking the plantation. With a bundle of nerves swirling in his stomach, Altair took a deep breath and trekked the hill. The higher he got, hectares of a variety of tea trees greeted his vision, mimicking the sea with its vastness. It was the first time he saw something so wide and before he knew it, questions started entering his mind.

If the Ackerman family held so much money, why did his grandparents make his mum go back to London? Why did they take away the only person who made her feel loved in every sort of way possible? She could’ve been happy here. Everything is so soothing and secure.

The sound of people talking snapped him back to reality. Altair shook his head and continued his small walk towards the building. It looked like there was more activity in here than he imagined. People were sorting out the tea leaves they harvested and others were manning a machine meant for grounding the leaves. It was so busy that he didn’t realize he stopped in front of the huge window showing all of the employees trying to keep Levi’s business booming.

A person rounding the building noticed his gawking and smiled a little. They clutched the flowers they picked for the new blends Levi was experimenting on and went to the black-haired boy. “Al, welcome home. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday to welcome you back.”

The silver-eyed boy turned around to the young woman sharing his features — the same jet-black hair, pale complexion, and shade of silver for the eyes (though hers were more on the bluish side of the spectrum). He tried recalling the family members his brother told him to remember. There was a woman with the same appearance in one of the pictures. She was hugging the Altair she knows, their smiles shining through the piece of shiny paper. She was the older cousin his twin was telling so many stories about since she was the only one closer to his age around the household. The Altair standing in front of her right now smiled, muttering her name, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa returned the smile with her own, sitting on her heels to meet the boy’s eyes. “How was camp?”

“My opponent in a fencing competition pushed me in the washing area of our pavilion.”

Mikasa winced, ruffling the boy’s hair gently. “Why did they do that?”

Altair shrugged, feeling proud of himself for doing that to his twin despite being guilty to this day. “Guess he was better than me at fencing. He has a teacher specifically for that sport back in their hometown.”

“Oh, wow. If you want someone to practice fencing with, I’ll gladly help you.” The young woman tilted her head with a smile. “That is if you want to go back to that camp next summer. I’ll even learn the rules for you.”

The older of the two had so many records in her portfolio. Altair recalled that his brother was gushing about how Mikasa was a part of the track and field team the entirety of her stay in college. She was also a part of a volleyball club when she was in high school. This young woman has everything in her belt and it would be so good if Altair practiced fencing with her. However, he also realized that Mikasa probably had her hands full with academic and familial responsibilities. “But you have your final year in college, though, and you’re so busy in the plantation.”

Mikasa once again tousled Altair’s hair, chuckling under her breath. “Anything for my baby cousin so don’t worry about it.” She looked down at the pile of flowers in her arms. She handed a single red lily flower to Altair. “Here, to brighten up your day.” Mikasa stood up and waved at Altair. “I’m testing these flowers out with some berries, kiddo. I’ll be in the kitchen by the sorting room with Annie. If we can get the right combination, we’ll let you try some. Your dad is in his office waiting for you.” With that, Mikasa turned around but not before ruffling Altair’s hair again.

Altair nodded at nobody in particular and entered the building with a slight skip in his steps. The office was situated on the second floor of the manor-like establishment. The color palette of red and olive green was still observed in the interior but the large, open balcony let in enough light to illuminate the second floor. There was a railing surrounding the middle space of the entire floor, perfect for looking down and observing the bustling life inside the house. Altair’s destination, however, was the door to the left side of the second floor down a painting-covered hallway. He tentatively knocked on the door with his father’s name pinned on it. Altair faintly heard someone call inside the room and opened the door to peek his head in.

Levi was behind his desk, phone close to his ear. “Yes, Erwin. I thought you will be visiting because of Altair today. I see. No problem. You can visit the plantation anytime.” He glanced at the opened door, seeing Altair meekly staring at him. He smiled a little before telling Erwin, “Al’s here. Yeah. The stocks are fine and the new blends are coming out great. Sure, I’ll send you some. Bye.” The silver-eyed man sighed as he placed his phone on the desk. “You can come in, Al. Usually, you just barge in here and wait for me on the couch.” Levi hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son grinning in front of him.

Altair chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I thought it was an important call.”

“It was just Eyebrows.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.”

The boy sat on the couch, eyes inconspicuously roaming around the office. He heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and Altair looked up to find his dad preparing a cup of tea in the kitchenette installed in the room. He looked away from Levi and shifted his attention to the framed photographs on the desk. Everything wasn’t facing him but there was one frame positioned to face the person behind the desk. Altair craned his neck to get a glimpse of the picture, his eyes going back and forth between the frame and his dad, who was waiting for the tea to steep. With his body draping over the couch and neck stretching as far as he could (the position was starting to hurt), Altair saw that it was a picture of you, his mum. The silver-eyed boy gasped because it was you in a wedding dress.

“Blimey.”

“Al?”

Altair dropped the position with a huff. He straightened himself to face a confused Levi, a tray of two teacups filled with raspberry tea held by his hands. “Thought I could just, you know,” he nervously chuckled, “get a good stretch after oversleeping. So what’s up, Dad?”

Levi hummed, placing the tray on the low table. He sat beside Altair, body facing the little boy as he surveyed the innocent smile plastered on his son as he sipped on his cup of tea, the two of them mirroring how they held their cups. Maybe it was because Al went away for summer camp in the last eight weeks or maybe he was just missing you and your presence in his life, but Levi felt his heart clench at how fast his little boy was growing. The summer camp must be a blessing in disguise because his boy came home with newfound manners and the whole time he was away, he thought hard enough to make a decision he won’t come to regret. Eight weeks was a long time, things are bound to change. So Levi cleared his throat and readied himself in spilling his carefully thought-out plans to his son.

“There’s something really important I want to talk to you about, Al,” Levi started, putting this teacup back on the low table.

“That’s funny because there’s something really important that I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? Well, you go first, kiddo.”

Altair shook his head rapidly, gulping down his tea first. “No, you first, Dad.”

“Hmm.” The black-haired man carefully formulated the words in his mind. The first order of business was to cut off any people who would dare hurt his son. Yesterday was just the catalyst in his ongoing debate with Petra all summer to get rid of the publicist leeching off of him. From the look on Altair’s face while he was wading in the pool, Levi figured that Cynthia said something to him that might have shaken his mind. He leveled his gaze with Altair’s and told him, “Okay, I want to talk to you about Cynthia, the hired publicist for the teahouse and plantation.”

The boy turned his body so that he was seeing his father eye to eye. “And I wanted to talk to you about Mom.” Altair furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. “Oh, so Cynthia’s her name. What about Cynthia?”

Levi blinked in surprise. He knew Altair was a smart kid but he didn’t expect him to pick up on things so fast. There was no one in the estate that he shared his current sentiments. Petra was known to be a person not careful enough to keep a secret hidden from Altair and Erwin will most likely tease Levi throughout the day if he revealed his plans. Not to mention that Mikasa will probably indulge his kid in spilling every embarrassing thing about him so that makes his niece out of the list of people worthy enough to be told a secret.

With a calm voice, he regarded his little him with a flat expression. “What about your mom?”

Altair groaned in exasperation. “Dad, I’m almost twelve. I’m at a point in my life to ask about the whereabouts of my mom. You can’t expect me to believe the stork story all my life!”

A slow inhale and a look at the ceiling was all Levi needed to compose himself. “You know what, that is a story for later. But first, we’re going to talk about the publicist. Did she say anything to you? Anything that might have hurt you in any way yesterday?”

One pair of gray eyes looked away from the other to examine the invisible dust gathering on top of the coffee table. Altair wanted to tell Levi that Cynthia was trying to exploit him, trying to wound him in her trap and to make him fall in love with her. But the way that his father was insisting on the topic of Cynthia instead of you didn’t sit right with him at all. To Altair, it looked like Levi was desperate to clean the woman’s name and to make him build a relationship with her when the time comes that she’ll be carrying the Ackerman name. He mentally apologized to his other half across the ocean for not having the strength to continue the plan. Because as he glanced at Levi, the man’s concern apparent on the glint of his eyes, Altair wanted his father to be happy — to love someone without any pain that spanned for more than a decade.

“No, she didn’t say anything to me. She just told me how happy she is to be on the plantation.”

As much as he was scared to be a father when his boys were born, Levi always knew if his son was lying after years of raising Altair alone (with the help of Petra but the nanny will always give him the credit). Right now, however, he couldn’t tell if Al was lying or not. “Al, are you telling me the truth? If not—“

The door burst open, bringing with it an overly dramatic woman. “Levi? Are you here, sweetie?”

Eld followed after Cynthia, his face betraying his aggravation at the woman. “Don’t just enter Levi’s office without permission, Ma’am!”

Cynthia scoffed, insulted at the term. “'Ma’am’?! I’m not that old, employee.”

The blonde man bristled. He tried puffing his chest to remind the publicist that he has more authority than just a last-minute accommodation in the staff, but he stopped when he saw Levi starting to stand up from the couch. He had never seen his boss express anger in his years of being Levi’s secretary, however, the apparent look on the onyx-haired man will probably drive Cynthia more than six feet under the surface. Eld dismissed Cynthia with a roll of his eyes, focusing on the annoyed man walking towards them with terrifying footsteps. “Levi, she just went inside the building. Believe me, we were trying to prevent her from getting her head cut off by you but she wouldn’t listen!” The blonde glared at the woman who was gasping dramatically, manicured hand pressed on her chest. “Levi, you have to believe me. Mikasa even had to—“

“I understand, Eld.” Levi’s voice was uncharacteristically icy. Sure, he was known for being blunt and dismissive at times but that was the man's nature in forming social relationships. The employees were used to him being that way. Right now, though, his glare could have frozen Cynthia in place. “What is this, Miss Maryland? I thought I told you to leave a message to my secretary if you want to have an appointment with me. But I remember telling you that I’m not free this day.”

Cynthia pouted. “But I also told you that I wanted to have lunch with you! Is your job more important than me? Or are you just using that as an excuse to not make time for me?”

Eld looked scandalized at the woman’s reaction while Altair was wincing at the sound of Cynthia’s whine.

Levi was praying for his ears as well, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself down. He looked at Altair at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t recall you being on my priority list, Miss Maryland, and I have plans with Al today anyway. Horseback riding.”

“You’re lying!” The woman turned to Altair. “Is this true, Al, darling?”

The boy quickly took note of the hint of desperation from his father’s eyes so he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be riding Nox since I miss my horse while I was at camp.”

“You heard my kid,” Levi drawled. “Now get out. You’re invading my privacy — sounds fitting for your job.”

Cynthia’s face scrunched in disgust, turning around abruptly, her hair hitting Eld in the face. The blonde man sputtered before incredulously staring at the retreating publicist. There wouldn’t be any need for Mikasa to restrain her if needed since she knew the way out. Eld turned back to Levi and Altair, his face showing how guilty he was. “Levi, I’m really sorry. If I’d known she’ll barge in here like this.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, Eld.”

“Alright.” Eld trailed off, shifting his attention from Levi to Altair. He waved at Levi’s son before pointing at the door behind. “Have a great afternoon, you two.”

Levi nodded at his friend, sitting on the couch with a sigh when the door closed. He had to get rid of that publicist, she was starting to become a headache. Levi then felt a small weight on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, a head of onyx hair greeted his vision. With a small smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Altair, letting him snuggle into his side some more. The two of them cherished the silence as if the room was their haven, away from pesky publicists and the bustling activity a floor below.

Speeding through the plantation felt liberating for Altair. He wanted to raise his arms in the air as they zoomed by the small tea trees but that would mean having Levi being suspicious of him. At first, Altair thought that the predicament with Captain would be the same with Nox but the black beauty of a horse nuzzled his palm affectionately as if he was the real owner. Of course, it couldn’t happen without the help of the sugar cubes laid out on his palm. Now, he was laughing as he raced with his dad, their destination was the hill on the other side of the plantation. It looked like Levi was winning but Altair tried to spur Nox faster. A blur of black reached their landmark, a tree with a swing on it, and Altair whooped at the top of his lungs.

“I won!”

“You always win,” Levi told him, a loving stare directed at his son.

Altair turned his horse to meet Levi’s stare. “I do?”

A confused frown painted the silver-eyed man’s lips.

At that, Altair brightened immediately, realizing his mistake. “I do! Just slipped my mind again. I can’t seem to stop forgetting things. That’s so weird.”

Levi guided his horse to walk towards Altair’s. “Yeah, so weird,” he murmured until he was beside his son. They stared at the plantation with varying expressions. The boy looked so mesmerized at how the sun touched every single tree while Levi blankly surveyed the rows of what brought him to this moment. It was once upon a time when he brought you here during spring break in junior year at college, telling you his dreams of starting a tea plantation. You looked radiant against the sunset, the rays creating a halo that Levi wanted to preserve forever. Altair’s laugh when he won has the same smile as yours when you manage to outrun him in a race. Levi couldn’t help but think of a life with you and the twins here in the plantation and estate, the two boys growing up with each other and with both parents unlike now. The four of you wouldn’t experience the pain brought by the separation. But reality struck him hard when Altair breathed out an expelling sigh, eyes soft around the corners like yours.

“So, Al, do you think we’re lonely?”

The said boy looked at his dad, who was wistfully looking at the plantation like it was hurting him. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Altair’s grip on the reins tightened. “Why are you asking this, Dad?”

Levi took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, Al, but I feel lonely every night. The moon and the stars must be tired of my internal monologues to them, all wishing to have a normal night with our complete family. But with Maryland here, there seems to be someone at the back of my head telling me to make a move. You know what, Al, I want—“

“Race you back to the ranch, Dad!”

“What—wait, Al! Hey, slow down, kiddo!”

Tears were starting to blur Altair’s vision as he rode around the plantation. No, the plan wasn’t going to work. His twin brother was a liar when he said he had an amazing and genius plan. Everything was starting to burn in flames and Altair had no choice but to watch it fester until only ashes remain. When he reached the stables, he tied the reins to the post with hurried yet precise knots. And Altair ran and ran. Up the slope leading to the manor, past the building where the workers were happily interacting with another until he felt himself bumping into someone. He brushed off a concerned Mikasa shouting at him to slow down. Minutes later, Levi passed by the fretting young woman, the latter asking if Altair was alright. But the onyx-haired boy finally reached the safe confines of their manor, passing by the opened double doors. He started pacing around the living room.

Altair buried his hands in his hair, his accent coming out as he rambled. “This isn’t going the way he expected it to. Bonkers, this is a mess! I’m just a kid and I couldn’t handle everything at once. Now, Mum’s getting married to a person I don’t know and Dad is tying the knot with Cindy—Cassandra—whatever!” He leaned on the back of an armchair, body slumping on the plush cushion. “And I don’t even know Dad as much as he does. How am I supposed to fix this?”

“What are you trying to fix?” Petra suddenly appeared in the armchair. (She was there all along but she figured that by keeping quiet, she will learn more about why Altair acted strangely since he came home.) The redhead stood up, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you want to share something with the class, Al?”

Altair jumped back, placing a hand on top of his pounding heart. “You gave me a fright, Petra.”

Petra leaned back with an expression of disbelief. “What? Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk to me about? If you’re scared of your dad finding out your secrets right now, you can always tell me.” Altair remained silent as he stared wide-eyed at the nanny and housekeeper. “Care to explain to me why Captain doesn’t like you anymore when he has been with you since you were a toddler? Or how you can’t open the doors properly? Even your appetite change this morning. I have so many questions, Al, and it all stemmed from when you came home. Do you know something we don’t?”

The boy shrugged. That didn’t seem to alleviate the suspiciousness he carried. “I just changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Petra slowly took a step forward and tilted her head down to meet Altair’s eyes. “I’m starting to think you were raised …” She shook her head to dispel the thought and turned around to make herself busy in the kitchen. “That’s impossible. Never mind. I must be needing sleep from all these theories.”

“I am raised by who, Petra?”

She waved her hand to dismiss the question. “Forget it, Al. I’m not supposed to talk to you about this anyway.”

“Like I’m raised by [Name] [Last Name]? Like I’m the other half of one pair of twins?”

The redhead tensed at the question, her smile frozen in place. She managed to blink herself outside of her stupor, slowly regarding the onyx-haired boy, who was gradually turning into an image of you. Those eyes, though sharing Levi’s stormy irises, were reminiscent of your kind ones — always appearing as soft as they can be despite the intensity of a present glare. Petra was at a loss for words and she had to clear her throat a couple of times to find her voice. “How do you know her full name? How do you know that you have a twin, Al? How do you know about—?”

“About Caelum?” The boy pursed his lips, forcing himself to smile. He dropped the act because there was no use continuing their charade any further. Besides, this is Petra, the most loyal person from what he could observe during a full day in the Ackerman estate. She reminded him of Oluo, the way they stuck to each parent almost every day. His British accent came out when he said the next words, “That’s because I am Caelum.”

If this wasn’t a serious situation, Caelum would’ve laughed at Petra’s reaction.

“Altair?!”

Levi looked around when he stepped foot on the patio. However, he was surprised at the peculiar scenario welcoming him in the living room — it was as if Petra was looking at his son for the first time in years. The redhead had both hands covering her mouth, tears prickling her eyes, and an expression showing disbelief. He rose an eyebrow in incredulity because nobody paid him any attention. With measured footsteps, Levi placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, making the boy jump a few inches in the air.

“Hey, buddy,” his voice was so soft since his boy looked shaken up just as much as Petra, “why did you take off on me like that? I told you I wanted to talk to you about something.” His son looked up at him with wide eyes so Levi expectantly glanced at Petra. The woman was still silent with that constipated look on her face. “Petra, do you need to take a shit? Why are you looking at Al like that?”

Caelum was breathing heavily, eyes pleading with Petra to let him tell Levi the truth.

With a subtle nod, Petra wiped her eyes and turned to Levi, who had his face scrunched in perplexity. “Like what? I’m not looking at him in a special way.” She shrugged but with one look at the bright-eyed boy beside her friend, her voice started to falter. “I’m looking at him like I’ve looked at him for eleven years. Since the day he came home from the hospital, all wrapped up and squirming for contact with his parents.” Petra looked like she could cry any minute. (Levi was staring at her like she had grown a second head. He was ready to give her a day-off.) “Seven pounds, five ounces, 21 inches long. This is how I look at him.”

Caelum felt himself smile as Petra gestured at him.

“Can I hug him?”

Levi blinked and stayed silent for a second. He lifted his hand from his son’s shoulder and stepped back since Petra wrapped the boy in a tight hug. He felt the back of an armchair behind him, leaning against it with a sigh. “Everybody’s so weird.”

As the woman continued hugging Caelum, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s so beautiful and he’s grown so much.” The boy nuzzled his head on the crook of his nanny’s neck, a large smile painted on his face.

For once in his life, Levi wanted to sleep the day off. Maybe everything might go back to normal.

Petra pulled away from the hug, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She pointed at Caelum while trying to control her voice from shaking. “I’m going to make you something special to eat. What do you feel like eating? Anything? You know what?” She waved her hand once she reached the entrance of the kitchen. “I’ll just whip up something from everything we’ve got, okay?” With a last nod and an apologetic smile directed at Levi, Petra went to the kitchen whilst wiping her tears, leaving behind the two Ackermans’.

Now that heartfelt moment ended, Levi knew he had to tell his son what’s weighing on his mind for the past years. All it took were eight weeks for him to steel himself in making a choice he won’t come to regret. If only he had done this when you gave him your back, a baby looking like him snug in your arms and reaching out to a father he won’t come to have. If only he had chased you to London, fighting for your love in front of your parents, promising a life filled with enough luxury for your newfound family. If only he had the strength back then, none of this would’ve happened. So Levi gently directed his son to the couches, sitting in front of the boy on the low table. Their gazes matched each other and it looked like Levi was staring at his younger self.

“We have to talk.” The onyx-haired man’s voice was so soft, matching his visage that was contorted in slight wariness and expectation.

Caelum nodded. “Okay. Shoot, Dad.”

Levi nodded back. “I’ve been thinking about this since you were a toddler and this summer was the only time I could focus on debating with myself on it.” He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest, and his cheeks burning. “Al, I want to get back together with your mom.”

The whole world stopped. Caelum stopped breathing for a few seconds. There was a lack of emotions inside him at first, him just staring like an idiot at Levi. Suddenly, he felt like jumping but that would look suspicious so Caelum abruptly stood up in front of his dad, tingles traveling in every fiber of his body.

“Al?” Levi asked, confused at the constipated look on his little boy.

Bright gray eyes stared back at Levi, Caelum’s grin erasing every doubt in his father’s body. “This is perfect, Dad!”

“It is?” The onyx-haired man trailed off before perking up a little, a small grin tugging his mouth upwards. “Yeah, it is. I decided that I will do everything right this time and have our family back again.” He looked down wistfully on the floor, fingers wringing with each other. He murmured under his breath, “I wonder how Caelum’s doing right now. Will he like me? I’m not exactly awarded with the best father of the year title.”

On the other hand, Caelum heard it and he couldn’t help but grin knowingly. He erased that on his face when Levi looked up at him. “So, Dad, what are you going to do about Cindy?”

“What about the publicist?”

Caelum sat back down, leaning forward to enunciate his next words. “Well, it’s quite obvious that she’s so enamored by you.”

Levi scoffed a disdainful laugh. “Why would she? I’m not interested in her in some way. I don’t even like women her age.”

“That’s the thing, Dad. I heard from her yesterday that you’re planning on telling me something. I figured it would involve her since she suggested it. It might be a different thing than what you told me right now.”

“Oh, that. I decided, with the help of Petra and the other workers, that you will be the face of the tea shop. Since I am not too comfortable with the idea of having my pictures posted on every branch, a majority vote prompted you to do the job. But Mikasa suggested that we also do that by putting you in the new label design. It doesn’t have to have your face on it, just your silhouette. I think Isabelle will do that well enough.”

“So,” Caelum prolonged the word, “you’re not engaged to her, right?”

Levi looked ready to barf his lunch. “What? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

A sheepish smile prevented the laugh that was bubbling in Caelum’s chest. “I tend to overthink at times, Dad.”

The silver-eyed man sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You get that from me.”

“I asked you that because yesterday, she told me you proposed to her because you wanted me to have a mother figure. She even told me you dated because you liked her at first sight. She mentioned that you went horseback riding in the sunset like a typical chick flick pairing and there you confessed that you felt lonely because Mom left you. Oh, I mustn’t forget how you reciprocated her feelings under a moonlit night. Hey, Dad, where are you going? Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Al, I’m killing a bitch this afternoon and it’s best if you stay put while I do that.”

“Dad?!”

Cynthia Maryland is a fucking menace to society.

It has been so long since Levi met a person who just by talking, brain cells are diminishing at every word they utter. The first one who made him feel this way was a genius, however, they were too much for his social battery. They always hung off of him at times during college all because they were your childhood friend, who followed you to America to make you feel like you had someone in a foreign country back then. That was seen as endearing but this time, it’s fucking irritating. Levi didn’t even have to control himself from showing how much he wanted this meeting to be over.

“Miss Maryland, can you please listen to me for one second?” Levi spat out, the stress coming to him in a migraine.

“I am listening, doll, and I guess those plans with Altair didn’t happen because you have me in your office — doors closed and just the two of us,” Cynthia spoke in a sultry voice that didn’t have any effect on the man slumped on his chair. “I will do anything for you, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Thank God for that.”

Cynthia was over the stars at that statement.

“Because I believe it’s time for your job as my shop’s publicist to be terminated. So I suggest getting out of here.”

“What?!” The brunette all but shrieked.

At the commotion, a knock resonated in the room. “Levi, is everything all right in there?” Mikasa asked. “Do you need me to restrain her?”

“No need, Mikasa,” Levi answered, not looking away from the distressed woman squawking in front of him. “Hey, Maryland, what are you whining about? Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re fired. What are you still doing here?”

“Pray tell, why are you firing me?! You need me!”

Levi rose an eyebrow. “Why would I need you when I have capable people working on the plantation right now? It was a mistake hiring you. Eld was actually the one who wanted to have a publicist for the tea shops and if my secretary said it would be beneficial to the business, I will always say yes. But I guess he hired the wrong person. As for the question of why I fired you, let’s just say, you were spewing things that weren’t even true. And of all people, you said those things to my son. What are you trying to gain from telling him we’re fucking engaged? Money? My last name?”

The brunette remained silent, angry tears dripping on her cheeks.

“Let me tell you this, Miss Maryland, you’re not worth those things. So if you don’t want me to get fucking angry at you, get the fuck out.”

While the whole debacle with Cynthia was happening in Levi’s office, Caelum was in the kitchen rolling a pin over a chunk of dough. The silver-eyed boy was helping Petra with the afternoon snacks, something that the nanny suggested since Caelum looked bored out of his mind, staring into the high ceiling of the living room while lying on the long couch. Only half an hour passed since Levi stormed into his office, demanding Eld to contact ‘that hysterical fucking woman’, and only two batches of apple turnovers were ready for the oven. There were a lot of workers on the plantation, all of them having big appetites, so Caelum and Petra had a lot of work to do.

Caelum just finished his story of meeting Altair for the first time and his shoulders felt so light after spilling everything out.

Petra pensively gave Caelum a wistful glance. “I’m happy that you two found each other.”

The boy looked up at the redhead. An air of earnest gratitude exuded from her, the idea of two twins reuniting was worth being happy about. Petra wasn’t the only one thanking the moon and stars for granting a request, Caelum felt like his world expanded because of that summer camp. “I am happy, too. I got to meet you, Mikasa, and the workers. I want this stay to last longer than a day but Al and I will eventually go back to our rightful homes.”

“Why are you being sad, kiddo? Didn’t Levi tell you that he’s planning on courting your mom again?”

“That’s the thing,” Caelum mumbled. The dough became too thin to wrap around apple fillings at the force he was pressing down on the rolling pin. He sighed, starting over again. “Mum is engaged to someone in London. I can’t even do anything about it.”

Petra hummed casually. “But Altair can.” Beside her, Caelum once again shifted his attention from the dough to her side profile, making her smile. “One thing I know about Al through the years is that he will do everything to make his plan a success. That brother of yours is a stubborn kid but he’s determined to fulfill his goal, which so happens to be what Levi’s planning, too.” She placed the knife on the cutting board, leaving the apples unattended, and faced Caelum with a half-smile. “How about this, you want to make this a success?”

Caelum nodded.

“Then tell your dad who you really are.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “No!” He looked down, cursing himself for raising his voice at Petra. “I mean, he’ll be mad for sure.”

The redhead chuckled before pointing a ladle at Caelum. “That’s where you’re wrong. Levi was always praying every night to have a glimpse of his other son across the sea. Now that you’re here, you’ll be giving him the happiness he always wanted for eleven years. He deserves to hug you, knowing who you are.”

This is how Caelum found himself standing in front of Levi’s bedroom. It was inevitable anyway — his dad finding out his real identity. Letting out a sigh, Caelum twisted the doorknob with clammy hands, opening the door to the image of Levi reading a book on his bed. The boy smiled when Levi looked up at the sound of the door opening.

Levi took off his reading glasses and smiled. “Hey, kiddo, come in.” He lifted his covers as an invitation for the tentative boy. When Caelum got on the bed, Levi placed his book on the nightstand along with his glasses. For a moment, he only looked at his son with soft eyes as Caelum adjusted the duvet to cover his lap. He pulled him close with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Caelum relax against him. “Did you have a nightmare?” Levi felt his son shake his head. “Is something bothering you?” At the silence, Levi looked down on Caelum's onyx hair. He kissed the side of the boy’s head. “I hope you will feel better once we spend the rest of the day tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Dad, I’m sorry.” It was a low murmur that Levi had to crane his head to hear. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow.”

“And where will this somewhere be? Is Mikasa going with you? Or did Petra invite you to go get the groceries?”

The silver-eyed boy squirmed out of Levi’s hold, burying himself in the think blankets.

“Al? Are you feeling unwell? Kiddo?” Levi tried tickling his son’s sides but was only met with muffled laughs. “Al.”

A British accent enveloped the words Caelum uttered next, “That’s where I’m going! I have to go see Altair.”

“And where might Altair be?”

A pause. “In London.” Levi froze. “With his mum, [Name] [Last Name].”

It was as if cold water surrounded Levi, dunking him in a fever dream. It was too good to be true. Of all the surprises he received for the day, this is by far the most responsible for taking away his voice and steady breathing. He couldn’t think properly at the revelation. So this was the reason why Petra looked like she saw the boy for the first time because she did, after eleven years. His heartbeat echoed through his chest, making a duet with his clattering mind. Levi didn’t know what to do. Should he embrace the son he never got to hug in almost twelve years or should he stay quiet and let the night go on, pretending that this was a dream? His eyes started to burn with unshed tears as he carefully lifted the edge of the duvet off the small figure lying beside him. There was no way this was happening. But as he finally got a glimpse of his son staring up at him, eye shape boring some similarities to yours, Levi let out a shaky breath.

“Caelum?”

Caelum sat up. “Yes, Dad?”

Levi’s vision became blurry, arms instantly wrapping around Caelum. He hugged him tightly, worried that this might be a trick of his loneliness, that this was Altair pretending to be his twin to make him happy. But no. He knew Altair like the back of his hand and if he hugged him like this, the little brat would whine at the long physical contact. This was Caelum, hands gentle like yours as they patted his back. He didn’t know he was crying until Caelum rubbed rhythmic circles on his back to calm him down.

“Al and I met at camp and we decided to switch places.” His breath hitched, nuzzling his head on Levi’s chest. “Dad, I’ve dreamt my whole life of finally meeting you. Seeing you waiting at the airport nearly made me cry because you were exactly like Mum’s vague stories. And Al wanted to meet Mum as well so we sort of made the switch impulsively.”

Levi pulled away, a smile present on his face. “Who exactly made this plan?”

“Never in my life would I suggest switching places with my twin. I told Al this is an idiotic plan yet here we are.”

Levi snorted a laugh. “Of course it’s Al’s idea.”

“But Dad …”

“Hmm?” The man waited patiently for his little heaven to speak up.

“I hope you’re not raging at the moment because I love you so much and I just hope that one day, you will love me as me — not as a mirror image of Al.”

Levi pulled Caelum again in a hug, kissing the boy on the crown of his head. “Did you know I was the one who named you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since your mom named Altair after a star, I thought it would be best if you were named after the realm the star is situated. You’re my little heaven, Cae, and nothing can change that. I’ve loved you your whole life. Stop being a mopey little brat — I meant that term in the most endearing way possible because your mother was the original one, she was my pain in the ass — and give your dad another hug.”

Caelum felt like he forgot something, choosing this moment to never mention you being engaged to someone and instead chose to let his dad’s warm hugs lull him to sleep.

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#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #rorywrites #modern au #the parent trap #shingeki no kyojin #dad!levi

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whump-tr0pes · 3 years

Text

WIJ: Hope

Content warning: food and water deprivation (self-inflicted), internal dehumanization, ‘it’ as a pronoun, theoretical broken bones, misunderstanding whump, metaphor of animals being hurt, thoughts of death, knives, past torture

The demon didn’t know how long it had been hiding at the bottom of the closet. Its bones ached from lying in a ball for so long. Its throat felt hot and raw, a familiar burn that it thought could mean it had gone without water for three or four days. Its hips were bruised where they had pressed into the hard floor, shifting endlessly, trying to find a position that hurt the least.

Truly, this was nothing. Sleeping on a cold, hard floor was nothing compared to what waited for it if it left the closet.

It had attacked a virtue. A virtue. It had snapped its vicious teeth at her hand and growled like an animal at her. It had tried to hurt a virtue. It knew that it deserved whatever punishment came to it. It knew that. But still, some small part of it wished it had chosen a hiding spot with windows, so it could have crawled through, perhaps dropped from the roof and broken a leg, crawled away to a dark hole somewhere and tried to mend itself before it was caught again.

It was better that it stayed. It deserved the punishment. But it could not bring itself to leave the closet to face it. The very thought of it made the creature’s gut go cold with terror.

There was the creak of a floorboard, out in the hall. The creature gasped and shifted against the floor, eyes wide in the dark, pupils huge and round and reflective. Its gums pricked and its mouth watered. Its neck strained and it caught the tail end of a conversation.

“…can’t keep doing this,” a woman’s voice sad.

Not a woman. Dara. The virtue the creature had attacked. Footsteps shifted against the floorboards.

The creature’s throat made a high-pitched whine, even as it shoved its hands over its mouth in a desperate attempt to be quiet. It curled tighter into itself and shivered against the floor. Tears pooled in its eyes and slid down its nose, smelling faintly of sulfur.

“But… Dara, wait…”

Ilya. Ilya’s voice. The creature bit down hard on its lip. Its stomach flipped and its heart ached. Of course they would take part. Of course. Of course.

The door to its bedroom creaked open. The creature’s whine only grew louder, higher, more desperate. The sounds it was making didn’t sound human.

It wasn’t human, and it must never, never forget.

“Dara,” Ilya said, their voice murmured behind the closet door. “Don’t… you’ll scare it…”

“Yeah, well,” Dara grumbled. The creature could smell the ozone coming off her from here. “It needs to learn.” The closet door swung open.

The creature flinched back so hard it banged its head against the wall behind it. It was no longer whining, but nearly shrieking, sounding like a dog being torn apart. It held out its hands in front of it, light filtering through the bent and broken fingers, eyes burning at the sight of the shining angel standing over it.

Mercy. Mercy.

“Ilya. Call it,” Dara murmured.

Ilya stepped out from behind Dara with a look of disgust on their face. The creature looked helplessly to them, eyes pleading, desperate. “It’s not a dog, Dara,” they said, crossing their arms over their chest. “I can’t just—”

Dara clenched her jaw. “Just… get it out here. Please. I don’t want it suffering like this.”

The creature squeezed its eyes shut. It had wondered when the others would kill it. It could almost feel grateful that it was time. No more pain. It would not return. It would not exist, not if they did it right. But she didn’t say exorcise. She didn’t say send it back.

She must mean kill.

The creature’s shrieks quieted and it pressed its forehead against the floor. Terror left it empty and shivering. It waited for Ilya’s call.

There was a shift, a slight change in the air. “Hey,” Ilya said softly, their voice closer to the ground now. “I don’t know your name, but… can you come here? Dara… she won’t hurt you.” The creature opened its eyes and looked out at Ilya. They were crouched in front of the closet, hand held out, empty. “She won’t hurt you.”

That was the best the demon could hope for: a quick and painless death. It whimpered as it struggled to its hands and knees, then crawled across the floor to Ilya’s side. It slumped to the floor at their feet and lay still, tears streaming, waiting for the final flash of pain, the nothing after.

Gentle fingers landed in the creature’s hair. It sobbed weakly, reaching out one hand, fingers splayed against the wood. Ilya was so kind. They were so kind.

“Hey,” Dara croaked. The creature flinched. “Hey, de— can you sit up, please?”

The creature nodded, not even considering disobeying. Its arms shook under it as it pushed itself upright, shuffled onto its knees in front of them both. It tilted its head back and forced itself to meet the virtue’s gaze. Her eyes glittered oddly, and she slowly sank to a crouch in front of it. Then she shifted onto her knees.

That wasn’t right.

“I need you to look at me,” she murmured, her golden-brown eyes hypnotic, entrancing. “Look at me, and trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

The creature swallowed hard, and obeyed. It held the virtue’s gaze, even as it wanted to shift its eyes away and cower at her feet. She was beautiful, devastating, unearthly… but it wanted to be looking at Ilya. It wanted to be looking at Ilya when it died.

As Dara brought her hand to her hip, the creature realized for the first time that she was wearing brown leather gloves – and the creature flinched back, frozen at the sight of the knife at her belt. Its voice broke as it started to whine softly again.

“No, shhh,” Dara murmured as she drew the knife. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. I keep my word. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The creature couldn’t tear its eyes away from the angel’s knife. It shimmered oddly in the light, seeming to give off a glow of its own. The blade itself was wickedly sharp. The creature knew – oh, it knew – that the blade was only a few atoms wide at its sharpest edge, capable of slicing through skin and flesh and sinew with a flick of the wrist. It knew.

At least its death would be quick.

“Hey,” Ilya soothed, reaching out and cupping the creature’s cheek. It blinked tears out of its eyes and pushed into the touch, finally bringing its gaze to Ilya’s. “She promised. She won’t hurt you. We don’t… d-do that here.” Ilya’s voice hitched. Their eyes swam with tears.

Out of the corner of the creature’s eye, the angel shifted. It flinched as her hand closed around its wrist, and cried out as she wrapped its hand around her knife – and forced the edge against her own throat.

The creature keened softly, trying desperately to yank its hand away so the blade would not be at the virtue’s throat. It was holding – the virtue was forcing it to hold the knife to her throat. It let out a shriek of distress, knowing somehow that this would only make the punishment worse.

It never wanted to hurt anyone. It never wanted to hurt the angel. It only wanted to protect its friend.

Through the ringing in the creature’s ears, it realized the angel was talking. “…listen to me, demon,” she said. “Be still. Listen.”

Its mouth was pulled wide with terror, eyes running tears as it scrabbled against the floor, desperate to pull away.

“Be still and listen, demon,” she commanded. The room shook with the brassy sound of trumpets, shuddering around the demon like an earthquake. It instantly went still, its eyes wide and staring right at her.

She wet her lips, and for the briefest moment, the creature swore she was trembling.

“I am not afraid of you,” she murmured, holding its gaze. It was powerless to look away. “I am not angry for what you did. I understand. I understand it was a mistake, and I understand why you reacted the way you did. You’ve been hurt. You’ve been wounded, demon. And I…” She took a slow breath in, blew it out between her lips. “I am sorry for that. My b-brethren should never have—”

She clenched her jaw shut, eyes blazing. Her hand felt warm, then hot against the demon’s skin. It whimpered softly, watching the blade tremble at her throat.

She blew out another slow breath and continued. “But you do not have to fear punishment in this house. Not ever. Not from Ilya. Not from their parents. Not from Evangeline. Not from me. Do you understand?”

It blinked, searching her face, looking for a sign that this was a test. A lie. Its dry throat clicked as it swallowed hard. It saw only light in her face. Only truth. It nodded slowly, trembling with disbelief.

“Good,” she huffed. She released its hand and tucked the knife back into the sheath at her belt. In one graceful movement, she got to her feet.

The creature shivered and looked to Ilya. They reached out and took the demon’s hand, fingers gently squeezing. It blinked and made a questioning sound.

Ilya lurched forward and pulled the creature into a hug. It melted into the embrace and sagged against its—

Its friend.

“Why don’t you come downstairs?” Dara murmured, holding out a hand towards the demon. “We’ve got lunch made. Let’s get you some food and water.”

The creature’s stomach rumbled. Ilya released it from their embrace and slowly, hesitantly, it took the virtue’s hand. The leather was so soft, and shielded it from the burn it knew her touch could bring. Her dark eyes were softened a smile.

The creature barely dared to hope as it looked to Ilya. Ilya – its friend – smiled at it, so wide that their eyes crinkled at the corners and their cheeks dimpled. They wound their arm around the demon’s waist and took its weight as the three of them headed downstairs. The creature’s head swam, near-delirious, as it leaned on its friend. It wasn’t bleeding. It wasn’t tied down, screaming, forced to confess its every sin.

It was free. It was breathing.

Maybe it was safe.

@whumpmasinjuly

#angel/demon whump #demon whumpee #human caretaker #nonhuman whumpee #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #water deprivation tw #food deprivation tw #dehumanization tw #it as a pronoun tw #broken bones tw #animal abuse tw #thoughts of death tw #knives tw #past torture #whumpmasinjuly #wij21day27

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minshookie · 3 years

Text

Invasion of Privacy.

Pairing | mafia!yandere!Joon x Reader

Genre | smut, angst, gore, yandere.

Summary | “while Joon is at work unwanted company comes to visit, opening your eyes to unwanted secrets.”

!warnings! | 18+ mature language , mentioned sexual acts, smut (just a little bit), violence, background character death, naive reader insert, dumbification, caretaker Joon.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [closed for request] words: 2k.

A/N | I struggled LOL But it’s finally here! I hope you enjoy. Forgive my mistakes please 💜

“Ready for breakfast hm?” Joon Spoke softly head resting in the crook of your neck, blanketing you with his warm damp body. “Yeah I guess.” Butterflies still fluttering in your tummy from the activities you both just enjoyed. “Mm well I’m not trying for waffles today kitten I have to go to work, so think of something quick.” He yawned before taking the tender skin of your neck between his supple lips again, sucking you in nibbling playfully. “Joonie when will Mary be back, I like her breakfast.” Almost whining. He chucked against you, “I told you Mary will be back after she’s had her baby.”

Feeling pouty you huff no motivation to eat knowing he’ll be leaving you soon. yawing you simply shrugged away the idea of this mornings breakfast. “Cereal again hm? If you insist.” He groaned pulling his self up on his forearms, gazing down at your connected bodies, he glided out with ease sighing in pleasure. Leaving you feeling empty yet warmly stuffed full. “I’ll be back, you stay put.” He began to walk towards the closet, watching silently in admiration. “Wait!” Stopping he turned. “Panties?” You request, fully knowing he’d get them for you. “Panties...of course.” He swiftly turned pulling some from the drawer. You reached for them, softly swatting your hand he went to your legs. “Up.” Complying, you let him dress your bottom half. “Being needy this morning i see,need a shirt too?” You nodded, letting him dress you again. “Alright cereal coming right up babybug.” He gave you a sweet Eskimo kiss before leaving.

His heavy steps thumped the hardwood stars, getting softer and softer before they disappeared. Never could you have imagined a simple round of dates would land you here, wrapped in Eucalyptus sheets, in the middle of a giant bed, upstairs of a Manson. Getting loved daily by a man with millions to his name. Your face began to grow warmer of subtle humiliation as you felt your heat drip of him. This whole situation felt like a long, long fairytale dream and you were loving every minute of it. Your reminiscing was cut short by the thudding of Joon’s feet coming up the stairs, finally he renters a smile on his face dimples prominent. Obviously proud of his limited culinary skills.

“A sugary cereal for the sweetest person I know, and a fruit cup too.” He walked slowly with he bed table careful not to spill. “c’mon get up and eat.” You sat up wide eyed ready for the meal he set before you. “What do you say greedy girl?” He held you back from the simple breakfast. “Thank you Joonie.” He nodded in approval letting go. “Remember, drink your milk, clean up your mess...eat all your fruit.”

He walked to the bathroom letting you eat in peace. You obliged his orders enjoying your modest breakfast quickly. Soon though, you started swaying the rose gold spoon around in the matching bowl watching the bland cereal chase each other. You’d finished all the marshmallows, you knew Joon would protest. Finishing the milk you began to pluck your favorites from the small fruit bowl, growing bored rather quickly.

“Joonie!” You beckoned, cheek full of berries. “yeah!” He yelled over the heavy patter of the shower. “Can I watch TV?” Tightly you closed your eyes in wishful thinking. “No Princess, it’s too early you know that, don’t you?!” You huffed, swallowing your fruit. “Yes!” He didn’t respond expecting you to eat the rest if your breakfast, in your true fashion you ignored the kiwi and bland cereals uneaten in protest of no early morning TV.

Annoyingly you shifted uncomfortably along the plush mattress once again. The once comforting fullness you felt now just starting to make an unpleasant mess...“Joonie!” “Y/n!” He yelled back while exiting the bathroom, his body glistening the scent of his masculine body wash and cologne engulfing the room. “I need to shower, I’m making a mess.” You stated shyly, making him smile in laughter.

“A mess huh, why don’t you take care of it?” He asked knowingly making you pout, he walked closer picking up the clear bowl, kiwi left behind. “Ah, eat this.” He held the green fruit between his fingers. “Eat one at least.” He rubbed it along your parted lips, you obliged his glare making you feel small. “Do I have to start giving you my cereal seems your tummy is getting full on sweets before you make it to the real breakfast?” Teasing he took it upon himself to finish the cereals.

“What do you say?” “Sorry for not finishing.” no way could you disobey him. “Good,Tell me about this mess though.” He inquired placing a kiwi slice in his mouth, walking to his suit closet letting his towel fall, he was already clad in his briefs. “You know!” He chuckled “I do? Oh is it my cum baby?” He stated lewdly while pulling out a dark suit. “Joon c’mon!” You whined, moving the the table. “Well Y/n if you wanted my help you should’ve joined me in the shower, you spoiled little brat.” He began to get dressed, “go wipe, go shower, and I’ll have someone clean the sheets yeah?” You rolled from the warm bed, a breeze catching your wet spot. “Yeah.” He smoothed the suit out over him , choosing a belt. “C’mon, I’m going to work big girl panties y/n go clean up please.” You took your time to walk past him , secretly wanting him to stay. You hoped he’d feel bad if you played hurt, or incapable of washing up maybe he’d stay late to help.

With a sigh of disapproval he turned from watching you walk begrudgingly in the mirror, giving your bottom a firm tap. “Now please so I can see you before I go okay?” Nodding you did as told, your scheme unsuccessful you resorted to complying. Striping and folding your clothes before throwing them in the hamper. Pulling the body wash, hand picked by Joon you lathered and showered as throughly and quickly as you could. Examining the dark areas he’d left behind, your neck,legs, and stomach, even scattering some along your pelvic area. Namjoon was extremely through when putting his claim over you, not like he had any competition. “All day kitten?” He knocked lightly on the door. The time spent Wandering in your thoughts taking a little longer than Joon’s liking you followed routine rinsing and turning off the water, drying you left with the plush towel around you.

He sat on the edge of the bed, an outfit laid over his thigh. “All dry?” You nodded catching a slight shiver, “you sure?” He called you over with a finger, tenderly he unwrapped you taking it upon himself to make sure you were dried, helping dress you as well. “When do you have to go Joon?” “Now.” Sighing you fell into his chest for a hug. “Yeah yeah, c’mon I gotta go love.” He kissed your cheek. “Kiss me before I go.” You pulled out of the crook of his neck latching onto his lips. Grabbing your neck he took the lead invading your mouth lustfully with his own. “Still taste sweet hm, remember to brush your teeth, lunch at twelve,have a snack around four, I’ll be home for dinner...and do not open the door.” You nodded your hands still in his. “I have a friend downstairs okay anything you can’t take care of...and I don’t mean the little things...ask him okay?” “Okay.” You crawled into bed avoiding the soiled area.

He got up smoothing his suit over again. “Uhm Joonie-” “I know I know.” He threw the remote to you before leaving. “See you later my pretty girl, remember I’ll know if you’re naughty. ” You smile turning on the TV. “See you later.”

After tedious hours of watching, and flipping through channels you enviably you became extremely bored with the flashing pictures playing before you. The nap you’d gifted yourself earlier began to wear off, you were sure it’s already been two hours, nobody’s came for the sheets. Strange of the morning staff to forget that. Rolling your eyes, you brushed off their neglect sitting up from the bed striping the stained sheets.

As bored as you were, you didn’t mind the walk down to the wash room. Once you gained balance of the heavy load, the trek began, only able to peak over the large bundle the stairs were a challenge. Once conquered you repositioned the bundle in your arms beginning to weigh on you. “Hey I brought the sheets for you!” Too lazy to complete the mission at hand, you tossed the sheets on the nearest couch, throwing yourself in the seat next to them. “Hello?!” Nobody seemed to call back as you voice deflected off of the walls. No way would they leave you all alone.

You stood from your seat, leaving the laundry behind as curiosity got the best of you. Where had everyone gone? You could’ve sworn you heard Joon conversing with them before he left. Roaming past the kitchen, Joon’s left his cutting board and knife out fruit juice displayed across the marble surface. Nobodies been on their job, and to think of it you haven’t seen or heard Joon’s friend he’d left for you yet.

You hated being alone, and Joon knew that. He wouldn’t leave you that way. Meandering down the elongated hall, which located staff bedrooms leaving a firm knock on the door....nothing. Fear draped over you the silence becoming too loud, taking panicked strides leaving the hall. Wandering the house looking for any other life form. Until you met face to face with a forbidden room. Joon’s office. Throwing rules away you griped the stubborn knob. Locked damn. “Help.” Whimpering like a kicked puppy you kept searching. “Joonie.” Wandering around, like you were lost in your own house, you skipped down the small flight of stairs, the washroom maybe they’re in there ...a dumb thought but this is the only room you haven’t rampaged.

Swinging the fragile door, a pungent rusting scent crashed into you. “And who the fuck are you?” Frozen in the door frame your brain fell blank. A group of men you’d never met covered in drying blood. The staff and who seemed to be Jungkook, sat lifelessly bound by their legs and arms in chairs in a perfect line. “Where’d come from?” Unable to speak you stared into the glossed eyes of people you once called friends. “Where’d you fucking come from!” Your mouth dried nervously, unsure what to answer...“Bed-bedroom ups-stairs.” They shared a look with each other, the only visible feature being their eyes. “Well you see these dunces doll...they lied...you won’t do that huh?” You shook your head, “Jungkook...he doesn’t lie.” They all laughed in frenzy. “No but he sure does fight back, don’t do that either...c’mon over here princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You stepped only one step closer, in fear of getting near the corpses. “Alright, heard...who are you?” Fiddling with your shirt you looked to your toes. “C’mon baby answer honestly or I’ll have to...sit you down.” You looked up, hot tears piercing your eyes begging to fall. “I’m y/n...Joon’s girlfriend.” Nodding in approval, someone in the back butted in. “He fuck you good?”You sniffled, looking back and forth between the few of them. “Don’t answer that, we don’t give a fuck about that....here’s the real test, where’s Namjoon hiding hmm?”

Oh, that’s easy, “Joon...he’s at work.” Scoffing in disbelief he reached behind him into his back pocket. “One more time cutie, where’s your little boyfriend.” Wide eyed your mouth quivered with no words. “I told you he’s at work.” He turned to his darkly dressed men “get a fucking chair, you y/n go sit in it.” You turned to run, a gun shot landed above you dry wall crumbling. “Sit your tight ass in that chair, or the next bullet will be buried in your chest.” Frozen in your tracks, you knew siting would land you right where Jungkook was. “Kim Namjoon is at work you won’t find him here!” Shaken you peered over your shoulder.

“Okay...okay, where does he work huh?” You turned back towards the stairs. “Uhm...I-I I’m not sure...big business I think, he has suits and a home office and people p-people follow him-” your rambling in cold sweat was cut short by the sound of bullets ricocheting along the cement walls. “Get out of the fucking way you dense bitch!” Unable to see your hero you rushed past him bolting away as quick as you could, blinded by tears. Eventually you fumbled into someone. “Hey hey y/n you hurt?” “JOONIE!” You climbed him his voice mesmerizing you. “Joonie it was disgusting, joonie please help.” The commotion still echoing in the wash room, Joon took his large hands over your ears guiding you upstairs into your shared room.

Finally silence to comfort you a wave of anger rushed over you as you processed your situation. Your ears pulsating. “Y/n...I’m so sorry princess.” All you could do was fall back onto the bare mattress. “Please do- who are they?” He sighed rubbing the back of his neck. “Business rivals.” He leans a leg on the maters caressing your thigh. “Joon don’t fucking lie I almost died.” He swatted your exposed tummy. “Hey don’t talk to me like that y/n.” Tears of anger replacing fear, “is this a game to you am I a damn toy to you...Joon I know you’re not telling me the truth and it hurts.”

He sat on the bed with an aggravated groan, you laid back staring at the smooth ceiling. “Y/n it’s best if you don’t know.” “Joon I’ll leave. Tonight i almost got my brai-” he darkly chuckled cutting you off “and to where, c’mon where?” You breathed deeply with anger. “I’ll- uhm...” “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, face it you’d be fucked over without me.” You rolled over, you could scream your figure shook in frustration. “I’ve pulled you in and treated you like a queen and you want to leave because you had to dodge a bullet?” “Please stop, Joon I’m leaving.” You sat up only to be pushed down, “you’ll die without me bitch, there are eyes on you, you take one step out of my house your just as good bounty as me.” What bullshit has this motherfucker pulled you into.

“Plus I’ve had you here, dumbed you down so much you can’t even shower right, let alone live alone, I feed your ass, wipe your ass, clean your disgusting ass, dress you, protect you, service waiting on you every damn hour of the day...fuck you how you please never how I please and yet you wanna go?!” Tears spilled from you, he straddled you peering maliciously, never has Joon spoken to you this way.

In surprise the door swung open, making your stomach drop, Yoongi’s face speckled red. “Joon it’s Guk he’s dead.” “Get out.” His voice flat no emotion present Yoongi obliged slamming the door on his way. “You even got one of my men-” “no.” You earned a slap like no other for cutting him off “I’ve trained you so much better, so much better than to cut me off and to snitch on me...I was at work huh...they wouldn’t find me here huh?” You couldn’t respond, the left side of your face throbbing from the assault. “Once I caught word of the invasion I check the cameras for you and low and behold your mouth never fucking shut...saving yourself? Fucking cunt.” You looked away from his accusing gaze.

“No words? Just how I like you...now be a good girl, apologize.” “I love-e you joo-nie I’m sorry.” You recite from memory. “I love you too, don’t ever disobey me again, and don’t you dare try to leave if you do, I’ll blow the little brains you have let by myself.” Tears pooled your face causing him to smirk. “Remember I own you, everything you are, everything you want, everything you believe, is mine to keep.”

Not my image

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder.

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured.

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed.

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair. “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed.

Bed, not beds.

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before.

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments.

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream.

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat.

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook.

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present.

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him.

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect.

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears.

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony.

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

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