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all-the-things-2020 · 7 months

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Home is Where the Force Is

Summary: Rey knows she can’t stay on Yavin IV forever, but where does she go from here?

Note: Includes characters from my other series, “Finding His Way,” and refers to incidents in the first story in that series.

Word Count: 12,500

Rating: PG

Rey Skywalker walked through the jungle of Yavin IV, her eyes closed but her footsteps sure. She’d been on the moon for the better part of a year, ostensibly to help Poe and Finn Dameron with their children while Poe’s father, Kes, recovered from a broken hip. But Kes had been up and about for months, back to his regular routine at the Dameron ranch, while Poe and Finn had the kids well in hand.

For a time, she’d told herself she was staying to keep tabs on young Ben Dameron, who showed signs of being Force-sensitive like his father, Finn, but since the child’s talents seemed to be limited to empathy and a unique ability to see and speak to Force ghosts, there wasn’t much in the way of training to be done. Then she’d almost convinced herself she was monitoring the progress of Ad’ika Djarin, the tiny eighty-year old child of unknown species whose Force powers rivaled her own. But again, Ad’ika was still too young (by his species standards) for proper Jedi training, and anyway, Rey hadn’t even worked out what proper training would be yet. And so she walked through the jungle, knowing exactly where her feet would lead her but refusing to accept it.

“You’re so predictable.”

She opened her eyes to find herself under the Force Tree on Kes’s property. Leaning against the trunk, a lopsided smile on his face, was the Force ghost of Ben Solo.

“No, I’m not,” Rey retorted. “Yesterday it was evening when I came. It’s barely past noon.” She stepped under the shade of the Tree, feeling the slight tingle of Force energy on her skin as the Tree welcomed her.

Ben laughed. “All right then, you’re slightly predictable,” he said. “But you know time isn’t quite the same on my side of things.”

Rey dropped her eyes, unable to meet Ben’s gaze. She was still struggling to understand her connection to the Force and the rules (if there were any) that applied to the Jedi who had lived before her. “I know,” she said quietly. “Am I being annoying?”

Again Ben laughed. “No, of course not,” he said. “I enjoy seeing you. I enjoy our conversations, even when you have questions I have no answers to.”

Now Rey looked up. She did have a tendency to bombard Ben with questions about the Force. Luke, or one of the older Jedi, would be more likely to have answers for her, but they wouldn’t always appear when she needed them. Ben always showed up.

“Sorry,” Rey said with a rueful smile. “But you’re the only one who’ll talk to me on a regular basis.”

Ben sat down against the trunk of the Tree and patted the ground beside him. Rey lowered herself into a meditation position, her hands resting lightly on her knees. “That’s because they see you as a student, and they only show up when you need some guidance, when you’re stuck or in danger of taking the wrong path,” Ben said. He bumped her shoulder with his own. “I just come because I like you.”

Rey felt her cheeks burning. She knew she was a pest, but sometimes she felt like nothing was right in the world unless Ben was beside her. Their connection puzzled her; was it simply their bond as a dyad in the Force, or was it something else, something more mundane but also more wonderful?

“Thank you,” she said when she’d composed herself. “For listening to me. It’s just … sometimes I need to talk things out, and Finn understands a little bit, but you --” She turned to look at him, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke his hair. She ached to touch him but even here under the Force Tree, he wasn’t corporeal enough to satisfy her senses. There was a subtle but immense difference between hugging Ben and hugging Finn, for instance. When she hugged her friend, she felt the warmth of his body, the pulse of his heartbeat, the texture of the fabric on his shirt, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When she hugged Ben, it was pressure, and a sense of the Force coursing through him, but that was all.

“I understand,” Ben said, breaking Rey out of her reverie. “But Mother and Uncle Luke think you need to start relying on yourself and your intuition, not me.”

Rey closed her eyes. She’d had this conversation with Luke several times. “I need to get my butt off Yavin and get back to work,” she said bitterly. “I know that, but …”

“You’re getting too attached,” Ben said softly. “I always hated that part of the Jedi creed. ‘No attachments.’” He shook his head. “Bantha shit, as my dad would say. You can’t do any good in the world without something to do good for.” He picked up her hand. “You have family, and friends, and your love for them is the base from which you develop a love and reverence for the rest of the galaxy.” He squeezed her hand. “I lost out on a lot of that. Mother and Dad were always busy saving the galaxy or making money, Uncle Luke was trying not to give me preferential treatment. I had family but I didn’t learn to love them until it was too late.” He took Rey’s chin with his other hand and turned her face so she was looking at him. “You never had a family, until you made one. You did it the right way around.”

“But I still need to leave them behind,” Rey said sadly. “I have to forge my own path, fulfill my destiny.”

Ben shook his head. “There’s no such thing as destiny,” he said. “You make your own decisions, you choose your own path. You want to help other Force sensitive beings reach their potential; you aren’t the savior of the Jedi religion. You are doing your own thing, Rey. Don’t forget that.”

*************************************************************

The next day, Rey firmly told herself she was not going to visit the Force Tree. To make sure her steps didn’t take her anywhere near it, she rode with Finn and the kids to the Djarins’ house. Both Ben and Shara had been clamoring for a playdate with Ad’ika and Finn had decided to indulge them.

“You’re gonna spoil them,” Poe said as he helped them load the kids and their paraphernalia into the speeder.

“Like you don’t,” Finn shot back. “And from what I’ve heard from Kes, you were plenty spoiled as a kid yourself.”

“Yeah, and look how I turned out,” Poe said.

“Oh, dear, Finn, he’s right,” Rey said. “We don’t want to risk that.”

Poe pointed at her and made a stern face, but Rey knew he was joking with her. At one time, she’d taken his teasing and bickering as a personal affront, but she’d learned long ago that it was how he showed affection. It had taken her some time to get used to this strange form of communication but now she was almost as fluent in it as Finn was.

Finn let her pilot the speeder, much to the delight of Ben who, like Poe and Rey, loved speed. Shara shook her head in the backseat with Finn. “She drives like Papa,” the little girl said. “Why can’t you drive, Daddy?”

“Because if I don’t let Auntie Rey drive, she’ll pout,” Finn shouted, loud enough for Rey to overhear.

“Maybe she’s spoiled,” Shara laughed.

“Probably,” Finn agreed. Rey took a moment to shoot him a look but she couldn’t take her eyes off the road for longer than a half a second. Even with her Force enhanced reflexes, the road to the Djarins’ house was twisty and rather dangerous at the speed she was going.

“Faster!” Ben screamed, his hands in the air.

Rey couldn’t go faster, but she reached out to tousle Ben’s hair. He had inherited Poe’s hair texture, with looser, softer curls than Finn and Shara’s hair. Of course, he hadn’t inherited his Papa’s vanity about his hair (or more likely, it just hadn’t developed yet) and his hair was usually a tangled mess. Poe had combed it neatly before they left, but the wind and Rey’s hand had done a job on it.

They reached the Djarin home and before Rey had even turned off the engine, Ad’ika was running up the walk toward the parking pad. “Ben! Shara! I have some new toys. Come see!”

Ben clambered out of the speeder, nearly taking a header, but Ad’ika deftly caught him with the Force and helped him get his balance. Rey was impressed by the child’s control of the Force. It came to him almost as easily as breathing, and she knew that with the long years of life ahead of him, he would one day easily outstrip her in power. For now, though, he was just a kid who liked to help others, and she was not worried about him starting down the path to the Dark Side.

Shara waited for Finn to lift her down from the speeder but as soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off and running after the boys. “Be careful!,” Finn called out as they disappeared around the side of the house.

“Din will keep an eye on them,” Mariana Djarin assured him from the doorstep. “He’s out back messing with some gadget or other.” She shrugged. “It could be a jet pack for Ad’ika, or possibly a vacuum cleaner, I’m not sure.”

Finn chuckled. “I’ll see if he needs any help,” he said. “With the kids or the gadget.” He gave Rey a pointed look and headed around the side of the house after the children.

Mariana tilted her head and gave Rey an appraising look. Rey hadn’t spent as much time with her as Finn had, but she liked the older woman very much. “I take it you need to talk about something,” Mariana said. She smiled at Rey’s widened eyes. “I don’t need the Force to see the look Finn gave you. He thinks you need to talk and I agree.” She stepped aside and gestured for Rey to precede her into the house. “Come on in. I’ll make some tea.”

Rey liked the Djarin home almost as much as she liked the Dameron homes. Poe and Finn’s place was always cluttered with toys and clothing (Poe was notorious for never putting anything away, despite Finn’s best efforts to retrain him), and Kes’ house was always full of delicious cooking smells. The Djarin home was tidy, but homey.

Mariana moved a stuffed bantha off the couch and invited Rey to sit down. “Make yourself at home while I fix the tea,” she said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Rey sat back into the slightly lumpy cushions. The Djarins’ furniture and belongings were well worn but comfortable. It was clear that they didn’t have as many credits as the Damerons, or at least they didn’t spend them as freely. The most impressive item in the room was the perfectly polished beskar pauldron displayed on the wall over the fireplace. Rey knew that somewhere in the house was Din’s Mandalorian helmet, but she hadn’t seen it on display since their move to Yavin IV.

Mariana returned with a teapot and two cups on a tray, along with a plate of cookies. “I figured we should enjoy some cookies before the kids get a hold of them and they disappear,” she said with a smile. She poured the tea, handed a cup to Rey and then settled back on the other end of the couch.

“Thank you,” Rey said, taking a moment to inhale the warm scent of the tea. It was a variety from Koora that was said to have relaxing qualities. Just breathing in the steam helped loosen the muscles that Rey hadn’t even known she’d been tensing.

“So,” Mariana said, after taking a long sip of her own tea. “What’s on your mind?”

Rey thought briefly about denying she needed to talk, but she quickly realized she would not be able to fool Mariana. The woman had raised two human children, was still raising an alien child who would outlive her by centuries, was married to a former Mandalorian warrior, and had enjoyed a career as a college professor before the rise of the First Order had forced the family into hiding. She certainly knew how to identify a lie.

“I’m not really sure how to start,” Rey admitted. She paused to take a sip of her tea. The minty, slightly bitter top note faded into a mellower floral flavor shot through with a hint of sweetness. “As you know, I’ve been here on Yavin a lot longer than I originally planned to be. I’m supposed to be studying the lore of the Jedi, in order to learn how to use my own Force powers properly, and figure out the best way to teach other Force sensitive beings how to use theirs.”

Mariana nodded. “Finn’s mentioned that he was surprised you’d stayed this long,” she said. She offered Rey a cookie from the plate. Rey enjoyed eating almost anything, but she’d developed quite a sweet tooth ever since leaving Jakku. She nibbled around the edge of the cookie before she went on.

“And you know about Ben … Ben Solo, I mean,” Rey said. Mariana nodded again, encouraging her to keep going. Rey sighed. “I’ve been talking to him a lot, especially under the Force Tree on Kes Dameron’s ranch.” She looked down at the cookie in her hands. She’d broken it into pieces and the crumbs were scattered all over her pant legs. “I know I should leave, get back to my plans, but it’s hard.” She looked back up at Mariana. “I can communicate with Force ghosts anywhere, but it’s so much easier under the Force Tree. And they’re so much realer there. I’m … I’m going to miss being able to talk to him whenever I want, being able to reach out and touch him …” She trailed off, feeling embarrassed. “I mean, I can’t really touch him, he’s not solid but the Force is so strong under the Tree that he can sort of project solidity, if that makes sense.”

“Why is he so important to you?” Mariana asked.

Rey shoved a piece of cookie into her mouth so she could take her time answering. Even after she’d finished chewing and swallowing, though, she still didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought it was because we’re a dyad in the Force, and that’s part of it, but it’s not all.” She was embarrassed to go on. “I’ve … I’ve been wondering if … I mean … how do you know if … if you’re in love with someone?” Her voice fell to a whisper by the end of the sentence, and her face was hot with shame.

Mariana smiled gently and laid a hand on Rey’s knee. “It’s not simple,” she said, “So don’t feel silly for asking.”

“How … how did you know with your husband?” Rey stammered, then shoved some more cookie into her mouth.

“I knew he meant something to me,” Mariana said, “and I knew I was physically attracted to him, even though I’d never seen his face, or any part of him without a coating of beskar, but I didn’t really know I loved him until the time he came back after a job and he was hurt.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t a very big injury, nothing he couldn’t have taken care of himself, but I was so shaken to see the blood, I might have overreacted a bit. I made him sit down and let me take care of him. It was a hand injury, and when I was done and had bandaged him up, he reached out and tucked my hair back behind my ear. He’d never done that before, and feeling his hand against my face …” She paused, a smile on her face. “I didn’t even think, I just grabbed his hand, turned my head and kissed his wrist. And that’s when I knew.”

“So it was sexual attraction,” Rey said.

“No, not entirely,” Mariana said. “It was the feeling of relief that he was okay, knowing that I wanted him always in my life and that he felt the same.” She leaned back, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I knew we were friends, but after that I knew he meant more to me than just friendship could account for. Like I said, it’s hard to explain, and it’s certainly not simple.”

Rey stared into her tea cup, using her awareness of the Force to nudge the temperature of the beverage slightly higher, back to the optimum drinking range. She took a long sip before she turned back to Mariana.

“Am I crazy to have these feelings for someone who’s not even alive anymore?,” she said quietly.

“Not at all,” Mariana said. “And he’s not like most dead people, after all. You can still see him and talk to him.”

“I grew up on Jakku,” Rey said. “I was alone almost all the time. There were very few beings I could trust. I had to rely on myself. When I met Finn, and Han, and Poe, and Leia and the rest of the Resistance, I had no idea what friendship meant. In fact, I’m still learning. And as for romance and … and sex ….” She shook her head, unable to articulate any further. “Maybe I’m just not meant for that.”

“Not everyone is,” Mariana admitted. “But if you are, you’ll know. Maybe you’ll never have a lover, or a husband, or a wife. And that’s okay.” She patted Rey’s knee again. “There are entire species that are genderless. Even the gendered ones have an array of different sexual orientations. None of them are wrong or right; they just are. Don’t worry about what label to put on yourself. Just be yourself.”

Rey took a moment to digest that, then nodded. “That makes sense,” she said, “but it still doesn’t solve my problem. I know I need to leave Yavin and get back to work but I don’t know where to go. I’m stuck.”

Mariana nodded wisely. “Oh, I know all about being stuck in your research,” she said with a chuckle. “I always find that when I can’t make any headway, it’s best to switch gears. Research something else, or work on another aspect of the project. Come at the problem sideways, so to speak, and often you’ll discover what you’ve been overlooking.”

Rey ate another cookie while she pondered Mariana’s advice. Come at the problem from another direction … “I think I need to talk to Master Skywalker,” she said. “He was always good at nudging me in the right direction.”

“Luke?” Mariana asked, her eyes lighting up. “Of course, you can still talk to him.” She smiled gently. “I wish I could talk to him again. I didn’t know him long but he was a very wise man.”

Rey suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She’d known Luke only as an old curmudgeon; Mariana had known him as a young man, long before the unpleasantness of Kylo Ren and the First Order. Perhaps in those days he had been wiser.

“Would you like to talk to him again?” Rey found herself saying.

“Of course, but I can’t,” Mariana said.

“Well, not directly,” Rey admitted, “but I’d be more than happy to act as interpreter, so to speak.”

“I’d love to,” Mariana said. And the conversation ended there, as Finn, Din and the kids all burst through the back door and tumbled into the living room, carrying the platter of cookies with them. Din and Finn were laughing about something, while the children were bouncing around, shoving cookies in their faces and zooming toy star fighters around the room.

“So, what do I have to clean up?” Mariana asked, eliciting a sheepish look from her husband and Finn’s sudden interest in the blank wall on the other side of the room.

Rey sat back to finish her tea, basking in the warmth of a family. It was still a foreign concept to her, but she was beginning to learn how to navigate the currents of family life, courtesy of the Damerons and the rest of her Resistance family. But there was still a tiny part of her that remained cold and empty, even as she laughed and joked and ate with the ones she loved. It was a Ben Solo shaped hole, and although it had grown smaller over time, she wondered if it would ever fully disappear.

*******************************************************

When Poe heard about Rey’s proposal to take Mariana Djarin to the Force Tree for a conversation with Luke Skywalker, he immediately turned it into an excuse for a Dameron/Djarin family barbecue at Kes’s house.

“It’ll be perfect!,” he said. “The kids can run around and tire themselves out, Dad and I can cook, and Finn and Din can discuss what it’s like to be married to incredibly talented and intelligent people.” Finn smacked at him, but Poe dodged his husband easily. So much for the Force giving Finn an edge.

“You just want Dad’s famous grilled toobeck,” Finn said. Toobeck was a fish native to Yavin IV that was notoriously difficult to cook properly. Too little heat and it stayed slimy and raw; too much heat and it turned to the consistency of jerky. Done just right, it was flaky and sweet and subtly spicy. Poe had tried — and failed — several times since they’d moved to Yavin but his father had the knack.

“Well, it is toobeck season,” Poe said with a shrug. “I supposed we could ask Dad to cook some.”

Rey shook her head, but commed Mariana to ask if she and her family could make it.

“That sounds delightful,” Mariana said. “Din’s been wanting to learn more about the Yavinese style of barbecuing, and we’ve yet to have a well-cooked toobeck. Our neighbors had some at a party when we first moved into the neighborhood but it didn’t turn out very well.” She laughed. “Din ate it anyway. Said it was better than some of the rations he’d eaten while out bounty hunting. The neighbors were appalled and they haven’t asked us to anything since.”

In the background, Rey could hear Din say “Hey!,” and Mariana giggled like a young girl. “We’ll be there, and I’ll bring something delicious.”

“Don’t bother,” Rey said. “Between Kes and Poe, there will be more than enough food to feed a small army. Maybe something for the kids to drink? Or that ale that Finn likes so much?”

“Done,” Mariana said. “See you then!”

*******************************

Kes had a fully equipped kitchen as well as a sturdily built grill and smoker combination made from salvaged ship parts and native Yavinese stone. Poe had gone out early to help his father with the ambitious menu, but there was still plenty to do when Rey and Finn arrived with the kids. The Djarins arrived shortly after, and soon Kes and Din were in deep conversation about the merits of different types of grills and smokers, while Finn wrangled the kids and Poe finished up things in the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Mariana asked, after she’d unloaded the bottles of ale and fizzy fruit juice she’d brought into the conservator to chill.

“Just keep Rey out of the kitchen,” Poe said, pointing at her with a wooden spoon. “The girl loves to eat but she’s hopeless at cooking.” He sniffed. “Remind me to tell you about the time she tried to fix a meal for me and Finn when she was living with us during Ben’s gestation.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow, but Rey gently steered her away from Poe. She still maintained that it was impatience born of her imbalanced hormones that had made her serve the noodles too soon, so that they were still crunchy, and her weird cravings that had led her to think that hot peppers and pickled plums were a good base for a sauce. “Don’t listen to him, he’s a food snob,” she told Mariana. “Come take a walk with me until the food is ready.”

She gave Mariana a quick tour of the yard around the house. She’d come to know and love the ranch during her time on Yavin, and she enjoyed meditating in the vegetable garden, where she could feel the burgeoning life in the soil all around her. She pointed out the treehouse that Kes had been working on when he’d fallen earlier in the year, and the old hangar, now overgrown with jungle vines, that still held the remains of Shara Bey’s old A-wing fighter.

“I guess Poe used to go out there for hours every time he visited,” she told Mariana, “but ever since he and Finn got married, he hasn’t been out there very much.”

“Din’s much the same with his helmet,” Mariana said. “He used to keep in on display and polish it every week, but since we moved here, and he knows we’re safe, he leaves it on the shelf in our bedroom closet. I think he takes it out once a month or so, to clean it and tell Ad’ika the same old stories he’s been telling him for thirty years, but he doesn’t rely on it as much as he used to.”

“Am I the same way with the Force Tree?” Rey wondered aloud. “Am I putting too much importance on a material thing?”

Mariana looked thoughtful. “It’s a bit different, though, isn’t it,” she said after a moment. “The Tree is a living thing, not a hunk of metal. But the underlying principle might be the same. Maybe you should ask Luke about that.”

Just then a loud clanging rang through the air. “Food’s ready!” Rey said with a grin. Nothing cheered her up as well or as quickly as the prospect of a good meal, especially one prepared by Kes Dameron.

************************************

Rey and Finn were the only ones still eating. Everyone else was on the verge of slipping into a food coma, and there was still enough food left to feed several more people. Even Rey and Finn had progressed to the nibbling stage, “filling up the empty corners,” as Poe called it.

“You know, Rey,” Poe said as he leaned back in his chair and undid the top button on his waistband, “once you head back out into the galaxy, our grocery bill is going to be cut in half.”

“Ha, ha,” Rey said around a mouthful of custard pie.

“If she takes Finn with her, you’ll save enough money to buy a brand new X-Wing,” Kes said.

“Hey!” Finn said. “I resemble that remark.” He popped another cheese stuffed pepper into his mouth.

“I’d never do that, Dad,” Poe said complacently. “Finn’s worth more to me than any old X-Wing.”

Kes spluttered through the mouthful of ale he’d just taken. “Have the stars fallen from the sky? Have the trees turned blue? Did Poe Dameron just place something in the galaxy higher than his beloved X-Wing fighter?” He turned wide eyed to the others, while Poe rolled his eyes. “This boy’s first word was X-Wing. He obsessed about them from the time he was old enough to point at things.” He shook his head dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe said, “I know. But I’ve matured a lot since then.”

“Since two weeks ago,” Finn muttered. “You were drooling over that X-Wing that Pava flew in on to drop off those Resistance files from Connix.”

Poe laughed. “Well, okay, but I drool over you more.”

Finn grinned. “It’s true. He literally drools … in his sleep.” He dodged a smack from Poe. Rey laughed along with the rest of them, but there was still that tiny part of her that wondered if she was always going to be the outsider, watching from the sidelines.

******************************************************

The Force Tree glowed softly in the twilight. Mariana had visited it before, but always with a group of others. It had been the setting for Finn and Poe’s wedding, and they’d had an anniversary party under it to celebrate five years of marriage just last year. It felt different now, though, as she approached it accompanied only by Rey. The girl closed her eyes as they came closer, a look of almost beatific joy coming over her face as they stepped under the canopy. The faint blue light that suffused the air surrounding the tree seemed to coalesce around Rey’s body, giving her a slight aura.

“So,” Mariana said after a moment. “How do we do this?”

Rey opened her eyes and smiled. “I just ask Master Skywalker to come talk to us. If he wants to, he’ll come. If he doesn’t, he won’t.” She settled down on the ground near the trunk of the Tree and assumed a meditation pose. “Be with me,” she began to mutter, and the glow around her intensified.

“Master Skywalker, there is a friend here who would like to speak with you,” Rey said after a short while. “An old friend of yours, and a new friend of mine.”

Mariana couldn’t see anything, but the air under the Tree changed subtly and she saw a broad smile break across Rey’s face. “He’s here,” she said. She paused, her head cocked as if she was listening. Then she laughed. “He said he’s busy, so get on with it. But he winked.”

Mariana stood awkwardly. “Um, how do I do this? Just talk to him and you’ll relay his answers?”

“Yes,” Rey said. She paused again and nodded. “He says, ‘It’s good to see you again.’ And he wants to know if your husband is still as stubborn as always.”

Mariana laughed. “Not quite as bad,” she said. “Despite all the odds, I think he actually did learn something from you and your lightsaber training.”

Rey sat up, her eyes wide. “You trained Mr. Djarin in the use of the lightsaber?” She listened attentively. “What happened to the saber?” She nodded again, her face going thoughtful before she shook herself. “I’m sorry, we’re supposed to be here for you, Mariana.”

All through the conversation with Luke, the girl was slightly distracted, and Mariana made a mental note to ask her about it on their way back to the house. For now, though, she caught her old friend Luke up on the past twenty years or so. “I wish I could see you,” she said wistfully. “I envy Rey and Ad’ika that much of their Force powers.”

Rey smiled softly. “He says he wishes you could see him, too, so you’d know how old and decrepit he’s gotten.” She laughed. “He’s joking, of course, because while Master Skywalker may have grown older, he was as strong as ever right up until he …” She stopped to gather herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just hard to believe that you’re … dead.”

“Everyone dies,” Mariana said, laying a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Even legendary Jedi masters.”

Rey shook her head. “Now he’s laughing,” she said with a chuckle of her own. “He says the only legendary master he knows is Master Yoda. Maybe Ben Kenobi, but certainly not himself.”

“You’re legendary to me,” Mariana said. “Both of you.”

************************************************************

As they left the Force Tree, Rey could hardly keep her question from bursting out. Fortunately, Mariana was perceptive and asked her point blank what was bothering her.

“Not so much bothering me as exciting me,” Rey admitted. “Did Master Skywalker really teach your husband how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes,” Mariana said. “While we were waiting for his sister to get intel on the whereabouts of Moff Gideon, Luke trained Din in how to fight with a lightsaber, since he’d be going up against the Darksaber.”

“Master Skywalker said he made a lightsaber for him,” Rey said. “And when I asked him what happened to it, he said Din returned it to him and he dismantled it.” She could feel a surge of energy go through her body as she blurted out. “He buried the kyber crystal and left it behind. He said it had done its job and it was time for it to wait for its next assignment. I think he wants me to find it.”

“There you go,” Mariana said. “It’s the sign you were waiting for, an impetus to get you moving again on your path.” She stopped and grabbed Rey’s hands. “I’m so happy for you. Florian isn’t the most exciting planet, but it’s not dangerous and I have good memories of that place. It’s a good first step to get you inspired.”

Rey squeezed the older woman’s hands. “Come with me,” she said, purely on impulse. “You’ve been there before, you can help guide me.”

Mariana laughed. “It was thirty years ago and there’s not much to tell. The abandoned hunting camp where Luke was camped out isn’t very large. Din can give you the coordinates and I’m sure it won’t take you long to find the crystal.”

Rey shook her head. For some reason, she wanted Mariana with her. “I think it’s important for you to come with me,” she said, “although I don’t know why.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mariana said. “That’s all I can promise right now.”

“That’s enough for now,” Rey said. She felt invigorated by this new piece of information. Kyber crystals were rare; finding the one for her own lightsaber had involved a three month expedition to a tiny planet in the Outer Rim that had called to her. Finn’s crystal had been slightly easier to find, as it was found in the jumble of broken crystals at an old Jedi temple site they had explored not long after she’d returned from finding her own. While the rest of the crystals had been shattered beyond repair, one perfect, unused crystal had been nestled at the bottom of the pile, and had glowed a soft green when Finn touched it. She wondered what destiny the crystal on Florian had in store.

******************************************************************************

Din Djarin was practicing with his quarterstaff. Rey hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on his workout, but uncomfortable watching without his knowledge. “I see you,” Din said without breaking out of the graceful, complicated steps he was putting himself through. “Come on out, just stay back so I have room to work.”

She stepped onto the back porch and settled into a wicker chair that sagged slightly as she sat down. Din was heavier than she was, and quite a few years older, but his technique with the staff was similar to her own. Even without the help of the Force, the man was totally aware of his surroundings, pulling a strike back a few millimeters to avoid hitting a lumbering butterfly that wandered through the backyard.

Ad’ika appeared on the porch, a tiny version of his father’s staff in his hands. “Dad says I need to practice,” he said quietly, hoisting himself into Rey’s chair and flopping on her lap. “But it’s boring by myself.” He pouted, his tiny green mouth turning down at the corners. “I’m too little to work with Dad.” He looked Rey up and down. “You’re pretty big, too. No one’s my size anymore.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she said. “They say Master Yoda was one of the greatest Jedi warriors of all time, and he was small like you.”

Ad’ika looked at her skeptically. “But that was when he was grown up. It’s going to be forever before I’m grown up. Cabur and Mirdala are grown up already, and I’m still small. Even their kids are getting big.”

Din joined them on the porch, sitting on the steps and leaning his staff against the railing. “That’s because we’re humans,” he said. “You’re different. Special.” Rey got the feeling father and son had had this same conversation many times over the years.

Ad’ika’s ears drooped. “Yeah, I’m different, and I’m going to live lots longer than you. You’ll be … gone … before I’m all grown up.”

Din held out his hands and Ad’ika leapt gracefully from Rey’s lap into his father’s embrace. “I know, ad,” Din said, gently stroking the boy’s ears. “But that won’t be for a long time.” He looked up at Rey. “Are you here to talk my wife into running off on a wild goose chase with you?” His words were gruff, but there was a twinkle in his eye that led Rey to believe he was joking with her.

“It’s not a wild goose chase,” she said firmly. “Luke said he buried the crystal, and R2 was there, so he should remember at least approximately where it’s buried.” She leaned forward. “I know you’re worried about Mariana going with me, but it’ll only be a few days. We’ll go to Coruscant to pick up R2, then fly directly to Florian. A day or two there to recover the crystal and we’ll head straight back. I promise she won’t be in any danger.”

“Oh, it’s not danger I’m worried about,” Din said. “I’ll just miss her, that’s all.”

“What, you aren’t looking forward to a few days without me?” Mariana stepped outside, carrying a tray with mugs of steaming chocolate. Ad’ika immediately perked up, his former bad mood forgotten at the prospect of hot chocolate.

“No,” Din said firmly. “You know I always miss you when you leave.” He took a mug and cupped it in his hands. “She used to go off for conferences now and then, when she was teaching,” he told Rey. “Left me with three kids while she was having exotic drinks at resort hotels on fancy planets.”

Mariana shook her head. “Those were academic conferences,” she said. “The drinks were weak and the hotels didn’t have many amenities besides conference rooms and sometimes a swimming pool. And I wouldn’t call Raxa and Fetoo fancy planets.” She took a sip of her chocolate, but grimaced.

Rey checked the temperature of her own mug; it was definitely still too hot to drink comfortably. That hadn’t stopped Ad’ika, who already had a chocolate mustache on his upper lip, but then he was rumored to have eaten live frogs when he was smaller, so he probably had a hardier digestive system than the humans.

“I do think you could do with some father/son bonding time, though,” Mariana said. “Which is why I’ve decided to go with Rey.”

Rey couldn’t help herself. She sat her mug down and leaped to her feet to wrap Mariana in a hug. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “I can’t explain it, but I just feel that I need to have you with me.”

“Jedi mumbo-jumbo,” Din grumbled, but that glint was still in his eye. He was not as friendly as Kes Dameron, but much less curmudgeonly than Luke Skywalker. Rey decided she liked him, very much.

“That may be,” Rey said, “but I feel much better knowing Mariana will be with me.” She sat back down and picked up her mug. The chocolate was cool enough to drink now. She took a long drink, savoring the bitter sweetness on her tongue. “I was thinking we could leave in two days, if that’s alright with you. I have to do a little maintenance on the Falcon, since it’s been sitting for so long.”

Mariana smiled. “That will be fine,” she said. “My, it’s been a very long time since I was on the Falcon,” Din looked up and locked eyes with her. Something passed between the two, but Rey couldn’t fathom what it was. It was clearly something pleasant, though, judging from the almost bashful smile on Din’s face.

Mariana winked at Rey. “I’ll tell you the story while we fly,” she said, which elicited a strangled squawk from her husband. “Not the whole story,” she conceded. “Just the highlights.” She kicked playfully at Din’s knee and he caught her leg, pulling her off balance. As she fell, he caught her expertly and lowered her into his lap, both of them giggling like teenagers.

“It must be some story,” Rey deadpanned, sipping at her chocolate.

“Oh, it is,” Mariana said, before leaning forward to kiss Din on the lips.

“Yuck,” said Ad’ika. “They kiss a lot.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Rey said. She also noticed that the boy’s mug was empty. “Come on, let’s see if there’s any more chocolate in the kitchen.” She drained her own mug and they left Mariana and Din sitting on the steps, their own cups of chocolate long forgotten.

****************************************************************

The Millenium Falcon dropped out of hyperspace and approached the planet Florian. It had been an uneventful journey, except for the surprise appearance of a pair of porgs in the galley. As promised, Mariana had told Rey the story of her previous experience aboard the Falcon and what had ensued after. This had led to a few in depth conversations about boys and feelings and Rey felt a lot more sure of herself after talking things out, although she still found it hard to speak (or even think) about certain things without blushing.

“I never had a mother,” she confessed the day before they arrived at Florian, while the ship cruised on autopilot and she and Mariana sipped cups of kaf at the holochess table.

Mariana smiled. “I’m already sort of Finn’s honorary mother,” she said, “so I might as well be yours, too.” She gently kicked Rey’s foot under the table. “Anytime you need to talk, wherever you are, I’m here for you.”

Rey ducked her head, embarrassed. “You already have a family …,” she started to say, but Mariana held up her hand to stop her.

“And there’s always room for a few more,” the older woman said. “Besides, Mirdala sure doesn’t need me any more.” She laughed ruefully. She’d told Rey how her fiercely independent daughter had chafed at the family’s self-imposed exile during the years of the First Order. She’d taken off once, coming back a few years later with a baby, and was once again out exploring the galaxy, with her son Ronal in tow.

Rey sipped at her kaf, wondering if this was the reason she’d felt compelled to bring Mariana with her on this venture. It certainly made her feel better knowing she had an older female in her life. Her time with Leia had been all too short, and far too much of that time had been spent dashing about just trying to survive.

R2-D2 beeped excitedly as Rey guided the Falcon down to land on a bluff overlooking the sea on Florian. The droid was the first one down the ramp after they were safely on the ground. Rey followed it slowly, taking a moment to breathe deeply. It was always good to be planetside after even a short flight. The air on ships was always stale and smelled slightly of dirty socks (or worse, depending on which species were aboard). The wind off the sea was brisk and salty, but without the bite that the wind on Ach-To had. Despite the superficial resemblance, it was a gentler place that the tiny island Master Skywalker had exiled himself to.

“Yes, R2, we’re coming,” Rey assured the droid, which was already trundling across the scrubby ground, heading inland.

Mariana paused at the bottom of the ramp next to Rey and took a deep breath as well. “I forgot how invigorating the air is here,” she said. “Of course, that was thirty some years ago!” She looked around. “Not much has changed. A bit of erosion on the cliffs, maybe. I don’t think the edge was quite that close to those rocks last time.” She pointed to a jumble of large boulders that was a scant few paces from the edge of the clifftop.

R2 beeped impatiently, its head swiveling back and forth as it scolded the women. Rey laughed. “All right,” she said. “R2 says if we’d stop sightseeing, we could get on with the job.”

Mariana shouldered her bag. “I always meant to take a class in Binary,” she said, striding after the droid. “But since Din doesn’t like droids, it never seemed very important.”

R2 beeped something very rude about Mr. Djarin, which Rey wisely did not repeat. Apparently the droid still held a grudge against the man, who had refused to accept its assistance on his mission against Moff Gideon all those years ago.

They walked across the uneven ground, picking their way through tussocks of grass and heathery bushes. There was no path, but R2 knew where it was going, and soon they came to the edge of a ravine where a path appeared, dipping over the edge and down into what soon widened into a small canyon.

R2 picked up speed once they were on level ground and soon disappeared behind some trees. As Rey reached the trees herself, she stopped and gasped. Laid out before her were the ruins of a small encampment, larger than a single dwelling but nowhere near large enough to rate the term village or even hamlet. What struck her most was not the dilapidated condition of the stone buildings, or the riot of weeds and saplings that covered the ground, but the feeling of calm and peacefulness that emanated from the area. A stream trickled past, the remains of whatever mighty torrent had carved this canyon in ages past, its water singing merrily as it tumbled over the rocks. A bird sang sweetly as it swayed on the top of a patch of reeds that grew along the bank. Something small and gray and furry darted across the open ground and then peeked out from between the crumbling blocks of stone of the nearest wall. The place was deserted but it was full of life, full of the Force. Rey could feel it in her bones.

“That largest building is where Luke and R2 were camped,” Mariana pointed out. “And over there …” She pointed at a much smaller building on the far side of the encampment. “That’s where Ad’ika and I stayed while Din was gone.”

Rey looked at Mariana. The older woman was smiling, her gaze unfocused as she remembered the past. “You have good memories of this place,” Rey said. She could feel it. Good things had happened here.

“Yes,” said Mariana wistfully. “This was where I learned that Din and I were married, and where I learned I was pregnant with Cabur. This was where my life began anew.” She had shared some of her life story with Rey during their talks. It had been a rough journey until she met a Mandalorian bounty hunter and his small alien child. And a Jedi knight.

R2 beeped loudly. [Dig here, Friend-Rey! This is where Master-Luke buried the crystal.]

Rey grinned. “R2’s found the spot,” she said. She pulled a small folding shovel out of her bag and went to work. The crystal was not buried deeply, maybe only a foot and half below the surface. As she got closer, Rey abandoned the shovel and dug with her hands, suddenly eager to reach the precious stone. Soon, she had it in her hand, a smoothly faceted piece of smokey white crystal. As she wiped the dust from it, it began to glow softly, a sheer blue light that flickered to green and purple as it woke.

“So that’s what a Kyber crystal looks like,” Mariana said, kneeling down beside Rey. “And that’s what powers a lightsaber?”

Rey nodded. “It acts as a power source and a focus for the Force,” she explained, taking a piece of soft fabric out of her pocket and carefully wrapping up the crystal before tucking it safely away in a pouch sewn to the inside of her bag. “Each one is unique, and the color changes depending on who wields the blade. Usually blue or green, but some are purple or yellow or even white.” She frowned. “The Sith channeled the Dark Side of the Force into their crystals, and their blades turned red as blood.”

“The Darksaber was black,” Mariana said. “Or rather, it was no color at all. No light, like a black hole. It was … unsettling.” She shivered despite the warm sun on their backs. “I was glad when Din gave it to the Armorer. I didn’t like him being the Man’dalore.”

Rey sat back on her heels. “I don’t know how the Darksaber was made,” she said. “Maybe one day I’ll contact the Man’dalore and see if she’ll let me take a look at it.”

Mariana raised an eyebrow. “I’d be careful about that,” she said. “There’s not much love between the Mandalorians and the Jedi, even though Luke helped Din recover the Darksaber for them.”

Rey nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right,” she said. She stood up. She’d accomplished the task she’d come to Florian for, but it felt as though there was still something more she was meant to do here. She looked up at the sun, which was still high in the sky. “We have quite a bit of daylight left. Do you mind giving me a quick tour?”

Mariana stood up as well, a bit slower and more stiffly, but waving off Rey’s offered hand. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just takes a little bit longer to get moving these days. And I was never the most athletic and graceful person anyway.” She laughed. “I’d love to give you a tour. There’s not much to the place, so it shouldn’t take long.”

She showed Rey the interior of the main building, where Luke and R2 had set up their work stations and she’d seen Luke meditating while levitating off the ground. “If I hadn’t been so worried about Din attacking him for being an ‘enemy sorcerer,’ I’d have asked him about it,” Mariana said. She tilted her head. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Rey said with a smile. “I’ll demonstrate tonight.”

Next Mariana showed her the tiny, dilapidated hut where she, Din, and Ad’ika had stayed. “It had a roof back then,” she said. “And Luke had brought in some basic furniture from the closest settlement. It wasn’t fancy, but it was snug and …. “ She stopped and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, I just … I just realized this was our first house.” She laughed through her tears, and Rey tentatively patted her on the shoulder. “You probably think I’m being silly and sentimental,” Mariana said.

“No,” Rey said. “I think … I think this place is special. To you and your family, of course, but there’s also something else …” She couldn’t put her finger on it but it was tantalizingly close.

“It was a Jedi outpost around three hundred years ago,” Mariana said. “Luke was here searching for any books or artifacts left in the caves. You might be sensing whatever drew those Jedi here in the first place. Or maybe their connection to the Force is still resonating.”

Rey nodded. “I’ll check out the caves later. But let’s finish your tour first.”

Mariana led her upstream a few hundred yards to a lovely little meadow. The stream widened out and wound lazily through the grasses. “In the springtime, there are beautiful flowers here,” Mariana said. “Lots of birds and beautiful little lizards.” She laughed. “I had to stop Ad’ika from eating them!”

Rey stepped into the middle of the meadow. Whatever she’d been feeling was even stronger here. “It’s so alive,” she murmured. “I can feel the Force pulsing through everything so strongly.”

“This is where Luke and Din practiced with the lightsabers,” Mariana said. “I remember Din telling me that after one of their sessions, he suddenly saw the meadow in a different light. It felt so vibrant and alive … those were his exact words.”

Rey slowly lowered herself to the ground. “Do you mind if I meditate here for a while? Alone?”

“Of course not,” Mariana said. “I’ll just take R2 back to the Falcon and get some supplies. I think we should spend the night here. So you won’t have to rush your exploration of the caves.”

Rey faintly heard the older woman walk away, but she was already dropping into a meditative state. “Be with me,” she whispered, and she felt herself connecting to the swirl of life that surrounded her. She felt the grasses growing, the worms and microbes and fungal threads that swarmed in the soil beneath her, the droplets of water that made their way from the ground to the tops of the trees, the whirring wings of insects and the flutter of bird wings. A lizard slithered through the leaves. A furry mouse-like mammal snuffled around the tree roots. It was all connected and it went deep, down into the bedrock that lay underground.

She surfaced several hours later, the sun dipping below the rim of the canyon and her stomach complaining about being empty. She followed the scent of something delicious being cooked over an open fire to find Mariana and R2 in the largest building, putting the finishing touches on a cozy little campsite.

“I thought the smell of stew might lure you back,” Mariana said.

“Is that Kes’ recipe?” Rey asked. It smelled of the Yavinese spice that Kes Dameron used so often it was a signature part of almost every dish he served.

“Sort of,” Mariana said. “He sent some ingredients with me, things he said you particularly like, but I just sort of threw it all together.”

“Well, it smells delicious,” Rey said. She plopped herself down next to the fire. “Is it ready yet?”

Mariana laughed. “Just about. Let me get some bowls and spoons.”

The stew tasted as good as it smelled, and Rey polished off three bowls before R2 made a snide comment. “What? Meditation makes me hungry,” she replied, wiping her bowl clean with a piece of insta-bread.

After they had washed up the dishes, Rey made good on her promise to demonstrate levitation to Mariana. It took a bit more focus than simple mediation but it came more easily to her than it had in the beginning.

“Very impressive,” Mariana said once Rey had settled back to the ground. “But don’t teach Ad’ika how to do that just yet. I think it would freak Din out.”

Rey laughed. Her heart felt so light here. It was more than just being next to a cozy fire with two trusted friends. It was something more. Long after Mariana was snoring quietly in her bedroll, Rey lay awake in the soft darkness of the hut, opening herself to the Force. As she was just about to drift off to sleep, she heard a voice whisper to her, “You’re home.” It took her a moment to realize it was her own voice, and when she did, she smiled.

***************************************************************************

When Mariana woke up the next morning, Rey was already up and gone, her bedding neatly folded. It was quiet and the birds were singing, so Mariana indulged in a bit of a lie in, something she didn’t get to do very often. Ad’ika might be over eighty years old, but he was still a little boy and like all small children, he woke up early and was ready for breakfast soon after.

She had dozed off again when Rey returned. “Did I wake you?,” the girl said. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, I should have gotten up a while ago,” Mariana said, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m just being lazy.”

Rey folded herself gracefully onto the ground. “Do you know who owns this piece of land?,” she asked. “Who I would talk to about getting permission to stay here?”

“Stay here?” Mariana was surprised.

Rey nodded. “I just … feel like I belong here,” she said, a faint smile on her face. “I went into the caves this morning and there are carvings on the walls. Very ancient, pre-dating the Jedi presence. I think this place has always been special. I want to find out why.”

Mariana sat up and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Well, I don’t think anyone really owns this area, but we can go to the settlement where Luke got his supplies and ask,” she said. “It’s not far. He got there and back in his X-Wing in just a few hours, and that included purchasing the supplies and whatever else he did. I’m sure R2 has the coordinates, or you can use the sensors on the Falcon to find it.”

“Then let’s go today,” Rey said. “I don’t want to keep you here too long. I know your husband is missing you.” She grinned. “I’ll fix breakfast.”

While Mariana got dressed and washed her face, Rey heated up the leftover stew and prepped some insta-bread, humming as she worked. It was amazing how much happier she seemed here. The girl had a delightful laugh and an infectious smile, but all too often she was the serious one in the group, taking her cues from the others.

After breakfast, they packed up everything and headed for the Falcon. R2 consulted its memory banks and plugged the coordinates for the closest Floriana settlement into the nav computer. “Twenty miles to the northwest,” Rey said. “That’s not too far, and from the orbital scans we took on our approach, it looks like there’s plenty of flat ground where I can land the Falcon just outside the settlement.”

It only took a few minutes to hop from their landing site to the open plains outside the Floriana settlement. R2 beeped directions to Rey once they were out of the ship, and the girl headed confidently into the small town.

“Any idea who is in charge?” Rey asked as they walked.

“No,” Mariana said. “I never came here. The only local I met was a being named Klev … and the resident nurse droid. They came to the camp with Luke. The Florianas are a genderless species, and Klev wanted to see a female.” She laughed. “I remember they were disappointed that Din had already left because they wanted to observe a mated pair. Luke got a good laugh out of that.”

Rey stopped in her tracks and turned to face Mariana. “Master Skywalker laughed? On purpose?” She looked puzzled.

“Yes,” Mariana said. “Is that surprising?”

Rey thought for a second. “A little,” she said. “I know he wasn’t always an old, embittered man, but it’s hard for me to picture him any other way.” She sighed. “What happened with Ben — I mean Kylo Ren — must have hurt him terribly.”

Mariana laid a hand on Rey’s arm. “The Luke Skywalker I knew joked around with his brother in law, liked to tease, and had a great laugh,” she said. “I wish you could have known that version of him.”

“Me, too,” Rey said simply. Then she turned back toward the settlement and continued to walk.

********************************************

The Florianas were tall, with intricately braided hair and a faint reddish fur covering their skin, but otherwise a typical humanoid species. Rey found their openness to strangers refreshing; no one had reached for a weapon or ducked inside a doorway when she, R2, and Mariana walked into town. Instead, they were greeted with genuine smiles and the third person they saw had approached them eagerly.

“Can I help you with anything?,” they asked in careful Basic. “I am called Koran. I have lived here my whole lifetime.”

“Thank you, Koran,” Rey said. “I am Rey Skywalker and this is Mariana Djarin.” After an indignant beep, she added, “And R2-D2, of course.”

Koran smiled, showing neat pointed teeth that indicated the species was a least partly carnivorous. “A pleasure to meet you,” they said. “You are human, correct? And if I am not mistaken, of the female gender?”

“Yes,” Rey said. She felt a sudden urge to cross her arms over her chest, to conceal her admittedly not very prominent breasts. She did not consider her gender important; no one had ever treated her differently because she was a girl, except a few men on Jakku who had quickly learned that she was more than capable of defending herself from their unwanted sexual advances.

“And what business do you have with our village?” Koran continued. “We know you are not tourists, because no one comes here unless they have to.” They chuckled, showing even more of their delicately pointed fangs. “All the interesting bits of Florian are on the southern continent. We don’t see many offworlders here.”

“We have a question about the abandoned village of Arvala,” Mariana said.

Koran tilted their head. “I do not know of an Arvala,” they said. “But there is an old hunting camp we call Arrek near the coast.”

“Maybe Arvala was an older name,” Mariana said to Rey. “That’s what Luke called it. I remember, because it’s the same as the name of the planet where Din found Ad’ika. We commented on what a coincidence it was.”

“Kinja might know,” Koran said. “They are an elder and a scholar.”

Koran led them to a small house on the other side of the village. Kinja proved to be a thin, slightly stooped being with a few patches of gray in their dark braids. When Koran explained who they were, Kinja welcomed them into their home.

“Please, sit,” they said. “I can make refreshments if you would like.”

“That’s not necessary,” Rey said as she and Mariana settled onto a pair of woven cane chairs. Kinja reclined on a low wooden couch covered in cushions.

“Forgive an old being for claiming the most comfortable seat,” Kinja said. “What is it you wish to know about Arrek?”

Rey sat forward, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I’d love to know anything you can tell me about its history,” she said, “but most importantly, I’d like to know who owns it.”

Kinja laughed. “No one owns Arrek,” they said. “Very little land is owned on this continent. We have never gone in for that sort of thing. Life has always been harsher here than on the southern continent, so we have practiced a more communal way of life.”

Rey felt a surge of excitement. “So … if I wanted to stay there for a while, it would be all right?”

Kinja tilted their head. “Yes, although I do not see why anyone would want to. It is so far away from others. Even the hunters who used it as a base camp traveled in groups and only stayed there for a few days at a time.” They paused for a long moment. “There was one human, many years ago.”

“Yes,” Mariana said. “Luke Skywalker. He was searching for books and other artifacts left from the ancient Jedi settlement.”

Kinja’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes,” they said, leaping to their feet. They hurried from the room and returned a few minutes later with a large wooden bound volume. “Jedi … Jedi …” They paged quickly through the book until they found the page they were looking for. “Here it is. ‘The hunting camp of Arrek lies on the ruins of the ancient settlement of Arvala. This village was built by a group of Jedi, an off world religious order dedicated to the understanding of the Force and the training of those gifted in the manipulation of the Force.’ You say this Skywalker was studying these Jedi?”

“Yes,” Mariana said. “He was a Jedi himself, trying to recover some of the teachings that had been lost when the Empire destroyed the Jedi order.”

“And I am continuing his work,” Rey said. “He was my master, if only briefly.”

Kinja nodded. “Then it is clear that you have as much claim to use that site as anyone else on the planet,” they said. “The village was built by Jedi and it has not been used as a hunting camp for centuries.” They paged through the book a bit more. “There is no record of any settlement there before the Jedi, although perhaps our primitive ancestors lived in the caves at one time.” They shrugged. “I see no reason why you should not stay there as long as you like.”

Rey felt a flood of relief at Kinja’s words. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to stay in Arvala (or Arrek, or whatever it was called) until this moment. Then she paused a moment to think about what moving to Floriana meant. “I … I might be there for some time,” she said. “I not only want to learn about the Jedi, I want to help other Force-sensitive beings learn how to use their abilities, and help them avoid going down the wrong path.” She looked up at Kinja. “There may be more of us as time goes on.”

The Floriana nodded solemnly. “Then you will be a new trading partner for our village,” they said. “And maybe your offworlders will have visitors … we might finally get some tourists after all!” They laughed. “The southern continent may have the Baths of Lingor and the Great Canyon of the Rekkan River but we will have a Jedi settlement.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it that,” Rey said with a laugh. “Maybe a school? A … retreat?” She shook her head. “I’m not even sure I’ll use the term Jedi anymore. Honestly, I’m making this all up as I go. So much was lost during the time of the Empire and the First Order.”

Kinja nodded again. “We were, for the most part, safely out of the chaos here,” they said, “but we are well aware of what went on in the rest of the galaxy. It would be nice to help restore a little bit of light and culture to the galaxy, even in a small way.”

There was a pause in the conversation as they all pondered Kinja’s words. Then Mariana cleared her throat. “When I was here before,” she said, “about thirty years ago, I met a being named Klev. Are they still living here?”

Kinja dipped their head. “Klev departed the living about seven years ago,” they said. “I admired Klev. They were in the same generational group as my sibling Klemar. Klev was always curious about new things, so I am not surprised you met them. They did have an offspring, but that one left to study on the southern continent after Klev’s death and they have not returned. They are called Kovan; they are from the same generational group as Koran, who brought you here.”

While Mariana and Kinja chatted about Klev and the Floriana tried to explain the intricacies of their species reproduction, Rey let her mind wander. Already she had plans to repair the buildings at Arrek (she felt it only right to use the local name for the place) and to plant the Force Tree sapling Poe had given her on her first visit to Yavin IV. She saw it growing tall and strong among the native trees, and she heard the voices of younglings laughing as they darted among the stone buildings. She saw a flame lit meditation area deep in one of the caves, the walls painted with ancient and arcane symbols. She saw books and scrolls filling the shelves of the communal hall, and heard stories of many worlds told around the fire pit as young and old alike sipped warm drinks while the wind and rain raged outside. And she saw herself, standing under the Tree, with Ben beside her, watching a pair of mismatched beings spar with lightsabers: one a hulking Wookiee, the other a diminutive Ughnaught.

She shook herself from her reverie when Mariana touched her leg. “Are you okay?,” the older woman asked.

“I’m absolutely fine,” Rey said with a smile.

******************************************

Koran accompanied them back to Arrek. “Kovan will be interested to hear of this place, where their parent once came,” they explained. “And I would like to see what kind of help you will need to restore the area. We have several skilled stone workers who would be willing to assist you.”

Rey spent the rest of the day sketching out her plans for the village, while Koran took copious notes on a data pad. As the sun began to lower in the sky, she stopped. “We should be going,” she said reluctantly. “I’m sure Mariana’s husband is missing her and I said we’d only be gone a few days. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Koran nodded. “I will bring a few workers out to begin preparations. And I can tend to your young tree until you return.”

One of the first things Rey had done upon their arrival at Arrek was to plant the Force Tree sapling. It had stubbornly survived for years in a pot on the Falcon but as soon as she placed its roots in the soil of Florian, she felt a surge of what she could only describe as happiness. It was as if the little tree wiggled its toes into the ground and stretched its limbs toward the sun with a sigh on contentment. Mariana had helped her pick just the right spot, on the edge of the little meadow. The Tree would not overshadow the open area in years to come, but was close enough to the stream that it should not need much supplemental watering once it was established. From what Rey sensed, that wouldn’t take long.

“We can stay a bit longer if you like,” Mariana said gently.

“No,” Rey said, shaking her head. “You need to get back to your family. And I need to say goodbye to mine.” The only sad part about all of this was that she would have to leave Finn and Poe and Kes and the children behind. She’d known that life on Yavin IV was not her path, but being with family, being part of a family had been so tempting.

“Let’s go,” she said, giving one last look around Arrek. “I’ll be back soon enough.”

********************************

As she predicted, Finn was stoically accepting of her decision. Poe, on the other hand, was not.

“So you’re just going to go off and live in an abandoned village twenty miles from the nearest settlement on some backwater planet all by yourself?,” he half-yelled as he paced the living room, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“Yes,” she said simply. “And I won’t be by myself. Koran and the others will be helping me restore the buildings, and I’ll have the Falcon so twenty miles is nothing. Plus I’ll have R2 with me.”

“She’ll be okay,” Finn said.

“Oh, I know she’ll be okay,” Poe admitted. “She’s probably the most capable one of all of us. She killed the freaking evil Emperor for Force’s sake.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m just … I’m going to miss her.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Rey said, touched beyond words by Poe’s confession. They teased each other constantly and had always been rivals for Finn’s attention, but he truly cared for her. “I’ll miss both of my stupid brothers,” she went on. “And my adorable niece and nephew. And Kes’s cooking!”

Poe laughed. “You’re going to miss Dad’s kitchen most of all, admit it,” he said.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Finn put an arm around each of them and pulled them into an embrace. “We’ll all miss you, Rey,” he said, “but you have to follow your path and we have to follow ours. And we’ll come visit. And you’ll come back when you get hungry enough.” He laughed that whole-hearted laugh that always made Rey smile. Finn had seen some terrible things in his life, but he could still enjoy life to the fullest, because he had a heart full of love.

Rey made her goodbyes to Din and Ad’ika, then made her way out to Kes’ ranch. He’d promised her a final meal with all her favorite dishes. When she arrived, Poe was helping his father in the kitchen while Finn and the kids were setting and decorating the table, which had been set up in the garden. A string of fairy lights hung from the boughs of the treehouse tree, which Shara proudly announced was her idea.

When the meal was finished, Rey whispered in Finn’s ear. “I’ll be back in a bit. I just need to say goodbye to someone else.” He nodded and kissed her cheek.

She made her way slowly down the path to the Force Tree. It shimmered in the darkness and the leaves seemed to reach out for her as she approached. Before she reached the trunk, Ben appeared, leaning nonchalantly against nothing. She hated when he did that.

“So, you’re finally leaving Yavin,” he said.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I think Arrek is where I’m meant to be, at least for now.” She reached out and took his hand, which was there and not-there, as usual. “I planted the sapling there. It’s still very small but I think it will grow quickly. I saw … I saw it standing tall and strong, and you and I were under it, watching two of my students spar. I had a little bit of gray in my hair, but I didn’t look too old … it might be some time before the Tree is strong enough to allow us this much physical contact, but I know you’ll be there.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” Ben said. “But don’t wait for me. If you need more than I can give you … don’t feel guilty.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want that, but I know you can’t give that to me.” She sighed. “I had some good talks with Mariana. For now, it’s enough for me to have friends and family … I might want more in the future but it’s not like I want to have children.” She laughed. “Carrying Ben for the Damerons cured me of that. And I’ll have students eventually. That’s all the legacy I need.”

Ben wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into his embrace, wishing she could feel his warmth as well as his energy. “Whatever you want, I’ll do everything I can to help you get it,” he said softly. “I fought against you, against the Light, against my own family, for too long. I will be your staunchest ally, Rey Skywalker, in everything you do. Even if it means I have to watch you fall in love with someone else, above all else, I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she said. “I will always be happy, knowing you are by my side, one way or another.” They stood quietly, bathed in the gentle blue light of the Force Tree, knowing it would be some time before they could be this close again.

“May the Force be with you,” Ben said as she prepared to leave. He kissed her forehead, his lips cold and lifeless against her skin.

“Always,” Rey said. Then she turned and faced her future.

****************************************************************

End Notes:

I realize while looking back at previous stories that I had inadvertently named the village where Din and Mariana met Luke after the planet where Din found The Child (and home of Kuiil). I hope I corrected my blunder in a believable way :)

I wrote this story to resolve some of the loose threads of Rey’s story that were left dangling in my previous stories. I did not expect her to end up back on Florian and it was a pleasant surprise to bring my two series full circle and tie them together.

#star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #rey skywalker #ben solo #grogu #baby yoda #din djarin #finn star wars #poe dameron

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hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Note

could i request a boyfriend!peter fic where reader comes out to him as bi and genderfluid, but they're so nervous to do so cos they havent told anyone else and he is rlly supportive? and helps them get new clothes and cut their hair? and its fluffy and hugs and stuff?

if u dont feel comfy writing this, its ok i totally understand :) i just love ur writing so much <3

Be True To Yourself || P.P.

Peter Parker x afab(previously using she/her pronouns)Genderfluid!Reader

Word Count: 1375(I am pretty sure this is my fave thing I have every written)

Warnings: Fluff, the pain of coming out, fear, anxiety, brief mentions of break up(in passing not with intent) and I swear to fucking god, if anyone comes in my inbox angry that I didn’t trigger tag this for lgbtq content i will scream so loud your ear drums burst.

A/N: So I don’t really talk about this much on here but I am a mostly gender nonconforming They/she, I come from a very very lgbtg family, I am a safe place, I promise!

♡✩♡✩♡✩♡✩♡

It was something about yourself that caused turmoil, it turned in your stomach as you tried to grapple with who and what you are, you knew that there was nothing wrong with your feelings, how certain forms of gender expression didn't feel right at certain times. Your mind floods with anxious thoughts as you sit on Peter’s bed, waiting for him to get back from patrol, to finally share your true self with the person that you love. Your hands twisting around each other, ringing out in a corporeal demonstration of your gut wrenching worry.

“Y/n?” Peter’s voice breaking through the metaphysical walls of your disquietude. Your eyes drawing upwards, trailing up the black webs of his red spandex, reaching his face in time to catch as his gloved hand tug at his mask, the eye lens blinking as he pulls off his face covering. The moment seems to soften as you glance at his hair, soft locks expanding from the confines of his secret identity. “What are you doing here?” His speaking again brought you back the reveries of your hands in his hair as you laugh giddily, his body holding yours tight to his as you ignore a movie you were supposed to be watching together.

“Hi Petey” you smile at him, tenderness in your gaze as you pat the bed next to you, signalling for him to take a seat next to you, a silent queue that he followed with much complacity. “Um, I need to talk to you about something” your eyes ducking down, an action that made Peter’s heart stop, a nervousness spreading through him rapidly as he began to feel much as you did, off kilter, as if his world was tilting beneath him.

“Y/n, you’re kinda of scaring me” he utters, reaching out for your hand only to find it already entangled, fingers linking with fingers in a never ending exhibition of unease.

“It’s nothing to be scared of, Petey, well I might need to be scared but it's something, well it’s something about me that I need to tell you and I haven’t told anyone and- well, Peter I am scared, I am really fucking scared” you let a tear you didn’t know you had spill, letting it fall down your cheek as you contemplate your words, silently reeling through every option you have on how to voice your being and identity to the person you love with the possibility that it could change how he loves you.

“My sweet, you know you can tell me anything” he assures, desperately trying to get a grip on the conversation.

“Peter, I...I can’t be your girlfriend” you murmur, quickly realizing you had chosen your words wrong as you see him freeze out of the corner of your eye, his body going rigid as the beautiful dusted rose drains from his cheeks.

“Wha-” he starts but you cut him off immediately.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I want to be with you, I want to be yours but I can’t be your girlfriend because I-I’m not a girl, well I am sometimes and I can be your girlfriend at those times but I’m not that all the time, honestly I am whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it and well, I don’t just like boys, I like girls too, but not just girls and boys, I like everyone but not now obviously because I am with you and I would never ever do anything unfaithful to you no matter how many genders or orientations I am attracted to. Peter I can’t keep pretending to be something that I am not and I don’t want that to change us but I understand if it do-” you start giving him the spiel about how it was okay if he didn’t know how to be with you now that you have become fully yourself but his lips didn’t give you the chance, cutting you off before you could manage to put into words how easy it would be for him to leave when that was the last thing that he wants, no matter what your pronouns or who you found attractive because that didn’t change who he fell in love with, he fell in love with you, not how you expressed yourself, you, his partner, his love. Pulling away your eyes remain closed, processing the amount of emotional knowledge had been lifted from your shoulder, your chest still tightened with the love at the amount of lack lecher passion Peter had let flow into your lips.

“Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Y/n, nothing in this world” he assures, lips still ghosting over yours as you finally manage to pry your eyes open to meet his chocolate honeyed gaze. “Is there anything that I can do to help you feel more comfortable in your own skin?” He was soft, so gentle a presence that you felt like warm milk on a cold night, he was calming your soul of your innermost turmoil.

“I was,” you drop your eyes, examining Peter's fluttering pulse that beats at the juncture of his collar bones. “Well I was hoping to go shopping and get a haircut cause how I currently have my hair and how I currently dress doesn’t always make me feel the best” he watches you with an attentive adoration, wanting to learn how to best be your partner and ally while you learn and grow into being fully and comfortably you. “Sometimes I don’t mind it but sometimes isn’t always and in the times its not I feel like my own existence makes me itch”

“Well we can’t have you being itchy” Peter squeezes your hips softly, tugging you closer to him as you fall back on the bed. “So I guess we shall have to go to the mall this weekend, get you a haircut, some new clothes, sound like a plan?” Peter offers and you smile unabashedly.

“The best plan” you nod sleepily into his chest, forehead grazing the emblem on his suit as you let your eyes fall shut, absolutely exhausted from the emotional strain of baring your soul to the person you love most with a possibility of getting it spat back at you, but Peter would never, he loved you more than he could understand, more than he cared to, not wanting to taint the complexities of his adoration for you with the binary idea that he could ever understand something so powerful and all encompassing.

---------------

You stood in front of a rack of t-shirts, hangers dawned with fun patterned graphic tees as you, searching for something new to complete your style, something that felt more true to you when you didn’t feel like wearing any of the clothes that you already owned, something that would go along well with the way your hair was now styled. Peter was not standing with you, having wandered off minutes before to go find something that he thought you would enjoy. The feeling of someone near you making you turn to face where the sensation was coming from, your eyes finding your grinning boyfriend. I

"I have an idea!" Peter smiles excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he fiddles with a pack of bracelets in his hand. "So um, I was thinking we could assign each bracelet pronouns so I know which ones to use when to use which pronoun" you felt like you were glowing, fully understood for the first time in your life and there is nothing more valuable than that, than feeling totally and completely seen and accepted for who and what you were. Tears flood your eyes without your consent as you smile stupidly back at Peter whose face was falling, hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Baby, did I say something wrong?" you shook your head, nuzzling deeper into his palm.

"No, no Petey, I just feel good in my own skin for once in my life" you blubber.

"I just want my partner to be happy" his thumb brushes over your orbital bone, wiping away a fallen tear. "Because I love them with everything I have”

“I love you too Petey, so much”

let me know what you thought

♡Taglist♡

@iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @evermoreholland @harmqnia @thehumanistsdiary @samaraaaaa @itscaminow @alinastarkrovs @marvelsbitch8 @celestialholland @kasidy409 @parkerdarling @scarletspideyy @capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @hackerholland @tom-softie @hollandsjen @tomhollandsbitch8 @bi-lmg07 @reawritesthings @tomsholland2412 @lowkey-holland @cocoamoonmalfoy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker request #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader oneshot #peter parker x reader one shot #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x genderfluid!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #lgbtq #peter parker x lgbtq!reader

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years

Text

Leave Your Lover (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! So, this was going to be one really long part, but it kind of got away from me and I had to split it into two. Don’t worry the next part is going to be very long either way because that’s the half that got away from me. This takes place pre-Infinity War. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Leave Your Lover”, mainly the line featured.

Summary: A brief glimpse into life on the run. Will Wanda be able to find Y/n?

“If I can't have you I'll walk this life alone, spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow.”

Being on the run was difficult to say the least and being on the run while trying to find someone who was actively trying not to be found was even worse. Despite being told by the rest of the group that it may be in her best interest to just move on and let you go, Wanda knew that wasn’t an option. She had made a promise to herself that she was going to keep fighting for you, no matter the cost. Wanda had let you go once and she wasn’t going to let it happen, not if there was a part of her that knew you still had love in your heart for her.

The only one who knew where you were at all times was Steve and he had spent the last few months absolutely refusing to disclose your exact location. That never stopped her from trying though.

Eventually though, he gave in. Steve wasn’t sure if it was her sheer determination that impressed him or the fact that he had never seen you happier than when you were with her. If she thought she could create happiness in a terrible situation, Steve thought she at least deserved a true chance and he wouldn’t stand in the way.

When she received the location, Wanda quickly packed what little she had and booked the next train ticket to Rennes, France. Feeling hopeful for the first time since long before the events of Lagos. _________________________________

For the majority of the time you’d been on the run, you stuck to the idea that hiding in plain sight was the best course of action. Which is why you were currently at a poorly lit bar, trying to live as normal a life as you possibly could under the circumstances. The only unfortunate thing was that you couldn’t interact with anyone due to the risk of being discovered. So, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, you knew it would be time to go.

Before turning, you downed your drink to prepare yourself to either get hit on by a random drunk person or convince them you weren’t who they thought you were.

Neither options were what you got when you turned around though. You tilted your head in pleasant surprise at the sight before you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Without thinking and perhaps partially due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, you wrapped yourself tightly around the woman in front of you. She laughed in surprise and gladly returned the embrace. You couldn’t help but revel in the contact, touch deprived from all the time you had spent in solitude.

For a while, you both just stood there, wrapped in one another’s embrace. Ignoring the occasional odd look from random passer byers. With one final squeeze, you released her but kept your hands on her shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nat.” you admitted to her with a smile on your face.

Natasha easily returned the smile. “It’s good to see you too. I was passing by outside when I thought I saw you sitting here and I had to see if it was really you.”

“What are the chances?” you asked with a laugh as you signaled the bartender over and ordered drinks. “Let’s celebrate.”

After drinking for a bit and catching up slightly, you both agreed that staying longer would be too much a risk and decided to take a walk outside.

“You dyed your hair.” You noted as you reached over and took a strand of her hair gently in between your fingers before letting it go. “It looks good.”

A playful smirk spread across Natasha’s lips. “Yeah, well, I figured the red was a dead giveaway for me, so… blonde it was.” She nudged you playfully. “A better disguise than a beanie and glasses at least. You’re no better than Rogers.”

A boisterous laugh escaped your lips, “What can I say? That man taught me everything I know.” Natasha shook her head but laughed despite herself.

You knew you would have to separate soon, but you tried not to focus on that. The pair of you walked in contented silence, enjoying the comfort of not being alone, even if it was temporarily. Eventually you both come up on the street where your hideout was located and for the first time you didn’t feel the need to rush in. Thankfully there was a small bench located across the street and you both wandered over and took a seat, enjoying the cool air.

“How have you been?” Natasha eventually asked, her eyes on yours as she attempted to analyze you.

You pondered the question for a moment. “I’ve been… lonely.” You finally breathed out, turning your gaze skyward. “I feel alone. I miss real connections. I miss just being able to walk down the street without fear of corporal punishment. I miss human contact.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your knee and squeezed lightly. You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I know what you mean. You’re never really alone though, Y/n. You know we’d all be there in a heartbeat if we could, if we have to.”

The touch and the knowledge that you weren’t alone was something you had missed. Again, whether it was the alcohol in both your systems or the deprivation of another human’s touch, but you both found yourselves leaning forward and connecting lips.

It was gentle and nice, but you couldn’t help but compare it to Wanda. Kissing Wanda always felt powerful and right. The way your whole body felt like electricity was coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches. Kissing Wanda always felt like coming home. You could’t help but think you needed this to realize that the one you still wanted was the one you shouldn’t want.

Despite this, you didn’t pull away, tangling your hand in Natasha’s now blonde locks as her hands fell to your waist. You allowed yourself this small moment of comfort.

Across the street, Wanda had been approaching only to stop in horror at the sight before her. Her mind rushing and heart breaking at the sight. If she felt a fraction of what you did that night on the roof, she couldn’t imagine how you got through it. As much as her heart ached in her chest, she didn’t allow it to stop her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. That you hadn’t already given your heart to another.

After some time, both you and Natasha pulled away. Laughing when you met one another’s eyes. “That was… nice.” You said lightly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re drunk. We will never speak of this again.” She chuckled and looked at her watch. “My train leaves in a little over an hour, I should probably go.” You nodded in understanding and she hugged you once more before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, Nat?” you called after her. She turned. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded and blew a teasing kiss your way before walking off into the night. With a sigh you leaned into the bench and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that you were alone again.

It had to have been less than a few minutes when you felt someone sit next to you, your eyes shot open and met with stunning emerald eyes that used to be your world. “Wanda?” you whispered, feeling the air leave your lungs at the sight of her.

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly, but there was melancholy in her eyes. “So, you and Nat, huh?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sadness. Possibly even acceptance. You quickly realized that she must have seen the kiss.

“And if we are? Together, I mean. What will you do?” You probed challengingly.

Pain flooded her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Nothing. I’m not going to interfere if you’re happy, but… but just know that I won’t stop fighting for you. I’ll be here waiting because our love is destined and I’m not going away. I’ll still love you even if you chose to love someone else. You have all of me. Always.” She paused slightly. “You are my only direction.” She added quietly, repeating the words you once told her back to you.

Your heart clenched at the referenced moment, of one of your formerly favorite moments.

Staring off into the distance, you could feel the numbness begin to fade as the alcohol started to leave your system. “Why?”

She lifted her gaze up to you curiously, but you didn’t meet her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep trying?”

Wanda took a deep breath and turned so she was facing you completely even if you wouldn’t look at her. “Love.” She stated simply, “I’m in love with you, beyond all rationality. Even if you don’t believe me. I want you to have everything you want, even if its Nat, even if that destroys me.”

Even in Spain you had never heard her speak so passionately. It terrified you. Terrified you so much that you wanted to get up and run far, far away from her. Far from the feelings that her words stirred within you.

Wanda wasn’t done though, she needed to get everything off her chest. To lay all her cards out. “When you love someone, you don’t stop. Even when everyone on the team calls me crazy and tells me I should just move on and let you go. I won’t stop or give up because if I could give up…” She risked taking your hand in hers, sighing in relief when you don’t pull back. “If I could give up and listen to everyone’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love. That would be some imitation that is not worth fighting for.”

“Wanda…” you whispered finally looking up at her, noticing the way her eyes shined with unshed tears.

She squeezed your hand again. “But you… You are more than worth fighting for. You will always be worth fighting for. And if I can’t have you I’ll be alone because no one else can hold my heart. This is love.”

“I’m not with Natasha.” You admitted softly after Wanda’s declaration, watching the way relief filled her eyes. “I think we were both just lonely and comforting each other.”

The relieved smile that took over Wanda’s features was contagious as you couldn’t help but smile hesitantly back at her.

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. That was the first time you had smiled at her since the night on the roof.

“What does that mean?” she questioned hopefully.

With hesitation, you interlaced your fingers with Wanda’s. “It means that I’m still not sure I trust you and I’m not ready to be with you again.” Her head dropped in dejection. “But. I’m not going to ask you to leave if you want to stay and work on that.”

For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt a semblance of happiness blossom in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she surged forward and took you in her arms, melting when you held her back. “I promise I’ll earn your trust back. I’m not going anywhere. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Y/n.”

Part 10! double digits! Pre-Infinity War and Infinity war was supposed to be one chapter and in hindsight that was probably overly ambitious of me. That means there will now be 13 parts instead of 12. Anyway, as always let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed! :)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda #wandavision x reader #wandavision #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #wanda mcu #avengers x y/n #avengers x you

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

6K notes · View notes

angstyantoinette · 4 years

Text

Yandere! Armin Arlert Headcanons

AGED UP I REPEAT ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP-

This little blonde ball of curiosity is verrryy toxic in my Yandere version.

Armin knows how innocent he looks to other people and by playing on this, coupled with his practical and analytical genius status, boy is it so very easy for him to gain the trust of his comrades, friends and especially his Beloved.

I feel as if Armin wouldn’t be picky with a particular type, but never being attracted to an unkind or particular person he would be disgusted by in any way.

He may fall for someone who is slightly colder, or who doesn’t really know how to respond to kindness. In that scenario, Armin would be overjoyed, but very patient and giving with them; if he wasn’t Yandere.

I see him as very touch-starved and wanting, but afraid to be clingy for fear he would drive his Beloved away. In this case he would dote on you as best he could in his environment, making you fall for him even more.

You would him as endearing, and like most, innocent. Armin is smart; one might say way too smart for his own good, and being a Yandere, I feel this makes him just as dangerous as those willing to use physical violence/methods on their Beloved.

He knows that you just love his little quirks and his way of thinking. If you tell him this, he may think you only see him as valuable because of his skill for strategizing. But when you reassure him that you just love him for him, he just falls in love with you even more.

He’s worrisome about you. Every time he makes practise with your ODM gear until you’re bruised, and exhausted, ready to run into his awaiting arms. Rewarding you with cuddles and affection, Armin’s love isn’t exactly conditional; but it still isn’t normal.

But that’s if you accept his feelings, with Armin being a Yandere or not, and with your knowledge or ignorance.

If you don’t accept his feelings, whether it being for your personal reasons, or because you…um, like someone else, to put it nicely;

YOU’RE FUCKED.

He’ll smile, nod his head, maybe try a little too hard to act like he’s okay with your decision. But you understand, after all, it’s not like you haven’t been rejected before.

“We can always be friends, Armin! I’m here for you okay?”

“Yeah, Y/N, whatever you say…”

About a few weeks after his rejection, with all of the support from Eren, Mikasa and the others, Armin is slowly descending into a deep depression.

He was so sure of his feelings for you. They were his most prized possession. You made him laugh, you made him blush and god you made his pitiful life seem so much more worth living. You were the ocean, and he just wanted to drown myself in you. Like the sun he saw so rarely, you were the ray of pure light that made his body burn.

He lay awake at night, taunted and enthralled with the thoughts of you in so many different scenarios….maybe in particular, different positions.

[Yes, those kinda positions. Armin’s not always that innocent, y’all.]

He knows that the more he thinks of you in these appetizing ways, in these hurtfully satisfying scenarios, he’s never going to be able to get over you.

Rather, he’s not even going to try.

Being trapped in his fantasies, Armin is horrifically aware that these feelings are incredibly toxic, for the both of you. He just won’t let you go. Whatever it takes, Armin will commit whatever crimes he must to keep you in his life.

He sees you as being misunderstood, especially if you’re typically a colder person, hard to read, detached. Some people compare you to Levi, but Armin just knows that you, like the Corporal, have far more depth than you let on.

His intrigue doesn’t let up for a long while, as you’re constantly surprising him in new and amazing ways. You’re used to his deep interest in you after a while, but you still don’t understand him.

Armin thrives on your confusion at first, but if it drives you away from him, he’ll go into tactical mode. Staying up all night,figuring out who is calling your attention to them rather than him and what his next move should be.

With his intelligence, Armin keeps his sizzling bafflement and envy under wraps. He tells himself that maybe he had unerved you a little. He can get like that sometimes, surely you understood him well enough to know that?He obviously did find you interesting and he was willing to momentarily abandon Eren and Mikasa just to fuel his endless curiosity.

Keep in mind, this is after you reject him, and his desperation to just know you and love you is greatly overwhelming him to the highest degree. You just won’t allow him to really see you, to understand you.

Eventually, he snaps. Just not in the typical yandere way. We all know that Armin feels as though he is a nuisance, a self-proclaimed burden so he keeps most of his feelings inside, and lets them loose to either prove a point, or while under stress.

It takes a minute for him to decide what to do with you, because he knows that once he has made a choice, it has to be the right choice. He has to know and map out a detailed plan, whether it’s doable, whether he’s able to pull it off by himself, etc.

His analytical skills come into play, and he plans everything from the location, time, the equipment needed at exactly what time. By this time, he will have comepletely left you alone; abrupt and brash, and just as he planned, you were surprised. Yes, he wanted to get to know you, and you couldn’t help but feel even slightly violated and maybe even disturbed.

Your like anyone in the world, have natural curiosity and interest in just about anything. But the unfamiliar feeling of unsettlement around Armin just felt…off.

You secretly knew of his deep infatuation; people always seemed to determined to figure the silent types out, to crack them open, decipher their many secrets. In terms of this analogy, you sort of understand, maybe even sympathise with his endless novelty toward your character, but even so…just why?

Maybe it was the fact that you felt bad for him, in a sad, puppy love kinda way. Maybe you saw him as a traumatized individual, just putting his assumed coping mechanism to work, with you just in the innocent line of fire.

If he kidnaps you at all, Armin will smother you. Telling you how much you mean to him, explaining that only he can access your wonder and intrigue. Because, after all, he worked this hard to get you; why would he ever share you with anyone else?

Although he will be stern, he’ll always be nice about it, rewarding you or not.

You’re an enigma to Armin Arlert, keeping him guessing, testing his patience with all of your being. You don’t know it, but soon you’ll be in his possession.

I headcanon him as seeing your refusal, your blatant rejection as some kind of ‘disease.’ You haven’t even seen the best of him yet, why make up your mind about something that you know almost nothing of? Oh well, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other very soon. He’ll bare his injured soul to you, and you’ll have mo choice but to do the same for him. It’s what married couples do after all, right?

Just let him love you, Y/N. Let Armin adore you. It’s the best thing to do if you want everyone to live.

Glassy, still sapphire eyes simply stared at you in the weak light of a stolen candle. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were saying, those beautiful, dangerous, albeit loving eyes. But yet, they also held malice in their abyss’. Endless, bottomless, simply divine they were. That was all you knew.

“Why…do you lie to me?” he murmered. A small, rough palm came to rest against your hollowed cheek, fingertips gently tapping against the skin. Realising how close he truly was, you tried your hardest to get away, shifting in your place in the surprisingly plush, old bed, but all it took was a flash of blonde hair to whip past your face, before he succeeded in holding your arms down.

While he never did this explicitly to punish or harm you, Armin always knew just how to exert his power. Never mind the boundaries that he installed in you the day of your arrival; he didn’t care for them as much as you had to pretend to.

This Armin was unhinged. Normalcy could never be considered in this relationship. He could never understand the pain he put you through. To Armin, it was all in the name of his devotion. All of his interest had been rooted in one fact; you refused to love him.

Once he figured out that you wouldn’t couldn’t love him of your own accord, he became enamoured with something he just knew he could never have.

He had never even thought about taking you, drugging you, dragging you to a secluded spot in the woods, or an out of bounds room, derelict over many years.

“I never intended to take you like this, bunny.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to look him in the eyes, gently lifting your head higher and higher until his blue pools of mere unhinged insanity met your own pained orbs. Seeming to like this, he smiled.

His perfect teeth looked more like fangs in the dim, weak moonlight. It had felt like he had managed to suck every molecule of beauty from even the most simple of things.

His voice sounded like the devil; harsh, unforgiving lilting tones of false hope daring to stroke you face and make you think you had a good chance at happiness.

You didn’t know when he stopped being Armin and began being a monster. You didn’t know if the lines could be blurred any further.

“I never wanted this, Armin-”

“Don’t play with me, bunny,” he snapped. His slender fingers wound themselves in your clean hair, twisting and searching for a soft spot to pull. When he found it, he lightly tugged; barely, but you still winced from the thought of the last time he did this.

You still wanted to believe that he was quiet, sweet Armin who still had an unstoppable fascination with you, but he was harmless then. Or was he? Was he faking his intentions? Did he have it planned from the very beginning?

You wanted to choke yourself for believing his simple demeanour, his dedication to the cause of the Survey Corps just like everyone else. He was a liar. He was a predator in all ways, ensnaring you, his perfect prey.

Only now had Armin realized just how confused you were.

You didn’t understand his love for you. You thought he hated you!

Now that wouldn’t do.

Armin could have have kicked himself. All of his stern discipline and rules stemming from his love and protection meant that you mistook for him being cruel. He was doing this out of his devotion!

How could he assume you would understand if he never told you, if he never proved his love?

“Armin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I swear-” You took a deep breath, cutting yourself off. Now was not the place or time to be losing your composure; you still were trying to get used to the fact that you were being held against your will.

“Hush”, he suddenly murmured, gently taking your chin in his fingertips, before moving them to tenderly cup your face, his eyes darting anywhere that he could lay his gaze upon.

The gestures were so tender you found your cheeks erupting with a wild blush, the burning shame hitting you moments later when your hatred and slight fear hit you like a slap to the face.

Your embarassment only got worse when you felt his soft lips kiss your throat, his warm breath flush against your skin. His hands found themselves back in your hair again, stroking it, petting it, twisting it round and round his finger. His right hand caressed your nape, spreading his fingers so that they only just covered the width of your neck, and he pulled you closer, so that your head was nuzzled into his neck, buried beneath his love and fascination.

It all clicked.

Armin wasn’t just interested in you.

He was obessed with you.

Obsessively in love with you.

You felt pathetic. You felt weak. But in a strange way, you also felt loved.

You had no choice but to resign yourself to his touch, letting your head fall limp as he cradled you to his chest.

“Good bunny.”

#yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere armin #armin arlert x reader #attack on titan #yandere #headcanons #yandere attack on titan #Headcanon #hc's #armin x reader

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kamabrahr · 3 years

Note

Since you said something about Corporate Kane, can we have some headcanons about him and a female reader? Any situation's fine.

Ooh, will do!

Corporate Kane x F!Reader Secretary Headcanons

Fluff, slight angst and hurt, and weird but wholesome comfort below the cut!

You aren't quite sure why you were hired to be the general manager's secretary; he seemed quite capable on his own, but bosses' orders are bosses' orders. Plus Kane seemed to be pretty nice, considering he's part of the Authority, and you’d rather work for him than anyone else in there.

Speaking of being in the Authority, it immediately gets you dirty looks from other wrestlers. If Kane is there, he'll immediately slide in between you and them and tell them to stop harassing you, you're just doing your job.

Kane's work for you is rather simple - every morning he leaves a handwritten note of the list of things for you to do, and you pick it up quite quickly, down to what kind of coffee he likes (black, piping hot). His praises brings little butterflies fluttering inside your stomach, and you have to tell yourself he's your employer.

But he's so kind and caring...

One long night, you were so tired you were nodding over your table, and Kane kindly takes you to his car and drives you to your place, holding your tinier frame in his large arms and makes sure until you're resting safely until he leaves. You always wake up to a simple meal he had prepared before his departure, and more little handwritten notes from him.

You start to keep them in a collection, finding it adorable. He was so adorable without him realizing it. You intend on keeping it as a little secret crush of yours, though; the man’s hands were so full already that you didn’t want to burden him with your silly fantasies of leaving him your own notes with a kiss mark...

Everything was going well, the Authority while losing its grip sometimes, still had ultimate control. You were proud of yourself for keeping things running in the background. You were proud of Kane running things out there so well, everything was going well...

Until one day, you meet the mask. His mask.

You were retrieving documents from Stephanie’s office when you saw it in the glass display, and it called for you, it begged for you to come over...

“Y/N, what are you doing?!” Kane’s voice boomed as he saw you holding the mask in your bleeding hands. Did you...punch through the glass to get to it? You can’t recall...

The next thing you knew, you were in his office, bandaged hands done by yours truly, who stared at the red mask laying on his table like it was his worst fear.

“You’re not a monster, Kane,” you whispered, and he turned his head to face you slowly, eyes dark and unreadable.

He put his hand over the mask. “You have no idea...if you only saw what I did with this on...what I did even without it on...”

You repeated, threading carefully over to him, taking his hand into yours, meeting his eyes. “I know. I saw. You’re not a monster. The world made you one.”

He pulled his hands away, and you see a flicker of it - that madman you saw on TV - flashing across his face - he inhaled sharply and shook his head.

Silence. You wondered if you should move, or ask him if he’s okay, but the moment you open your mouth he has grabbed you by your rear and laid you across the table, pens and papers scattering, his breath unbelievably hot against your face, his one eye paler than the other...

“No, I made myself one.”

He didn’t need the mask after all, it was in his blood, hiding within so well all along, and as dangerous as it was...

Your lips met his. He returned it hungrily, violently, teeth and tongue and pushing your head up to trail his lips across your jaw, when it suddenly slowed, and you heard a whimper. His eyes, now both the same color again, looked up at you in fear.

“...Don’t leave me, you’re...ever since you’re here, y/n, you’ve kept me in check, just looking at you, I feel that I can pretend to be a normal human, I love being a normal human for you...”

You cup his face with your hands.

“I like your human side...And I can accept your demon side, too. Don’t hide from me, Kane. There’s no need to keep secrets from me. I want to see...every side of you.” You then added with a weak smile. “The secretary needs to know all about her boss, after all.”

A soft chuckle and another kiss, there was a hint of fire underneath the gentleness. It was a start.

“...So, I think we need to return the mask...” your voice faltered as he instead shoves it into his drawer and shakes his head.

“I’m here on my own accord, not by control, and if they threaten to use it on me again, or worse, use you against me...There'll be literal hell to pay.”

You swallowed. The Devil’s favorite demon has you under his grip, and as domesticated as he seemed to be in his suit and tie...He was still very much made of fire and brimstone, and no one can take that away from him.

And you certainly didn’t want to, either. You had just found out, after all, that this is exactly what you desired...

#kieran writes #headcanons #kane #corporate kane #kane x reader #*chuckles* i'm nervous about this one guys #but here goes

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dracoladon · 4 years

Note

oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!

sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.

i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://

maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho

rated e, 1732 words.

The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric.

The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him.

Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands.

“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”

But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it.

Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing.

“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”

“The buttons?”

“The buttons.”

“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”

Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”

“How touching.”

And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”

So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”

“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place.

Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”

Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”

“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”

“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”

“I’ll get a house elf.”

“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”

“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”

“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.

Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”

“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)

“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”

“Sommelier.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.

“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”

“God. Really?”

“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”

“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.

“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?”

Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.”

Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.

“Mm,” Draco hums.

“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.”

“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.”

“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling.

“Two weeks.”

He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”

“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.

Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”

Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”

“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.”

“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”

Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”

Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”

Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night.

And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child.

“You’re so nice,” Harry says.

Draco frowns. “Take it back.”

Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass.

“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips.

Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway.

“No dress code, at the new firm.”

Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”

“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.

“This is completely tragic,” Harry says.

“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”

Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again.

When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple.

There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch.

“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue.

Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times.

Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)

On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs.

“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”

#my writing #answered #theestarryknight #prompts #drarry

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

playing pretend

a/n: hello hello hello! i have a prompt fill for this Dark!Stephen AU from @ironstrangeprompts and im just gonna post it before i can start second guessing my writing lmao

tw: mentions of torture, injury, implied past abuse

Prompt: Dark!Stephen AU. The avengers never really notice Stephen’s pacifist to-a-fault superheroing style until one day a magical incident corrupts him/magical entity possesses him. They’re treated to a completely unhinged and lethal Stephen, the avengers realize just how much Stephen was holding back, what with his quick work dispatching all of them, resulting in very heavy injuries. However, he takes special interest with Tony Stark, whom he has been dating for a few months now. He has Tony all strung up in the middle of the battlefield in front of the other broken and beaten avengers, he taunts and tortures him. “Being a doctor and a sorcerer is so very useful, I can break you in very precise manners, put you back together and then do it again.” When he gets bored of Tony’s screams and decides to end him permanently, Stephen suddenly snaps back to normal. The real Stephen has been battling internally to gain back control, knowing that he’s about to kill the love of his life gives him the final push to break free. He portals them all to safety and to receive medical help. Cue heavy angst and Stephen trying to make it up to them but especially Tony, who insists that everything is fine and that he knows it wasn’t the real Stephen. However they both know that Tony is just putting up a brave front and is undoubtedly traumatized by the incident. Up to the author on if they want to end it in a bleak or hopeful tone.

It took Tony a few minutes to register his surroundings when he woke up. He wasn’t lying in a makeshift coffin of bent metal, broken bones, and the ruins of the building. The familiar baritone, the melody of his waking world, wasn’t hollow and cruelly taunting him. Stephen sounded like himself, soothing and loving and reassuring but worried and tired all the same. Tony heard guilt in his partner’s voice, delineating his dream, his memory, from the present. He wanted to follow that voice, the real Stephen’s voice, and leave the past behind them. Guilt was eating away at Stephen as he tried to calm Tony down and wake him up. He defaulted to the standard promises and phrases when Tony had nightmares, but this time was different. This time Stephen was the cause of the nightmare, and he knew it. No matter how much Tony said it wasn’t his fault, that everything was okay, Stephen knew he had to repair the pieces of Tony’s trust he’d obliterated.

Tony thrashed again in his sleep, feebly kicking the air in front of him just like he did on the battlefield. “Stop!”

“Sweetheart,” Stephen began, unsure of what to say. “Tony, wake up. You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Stephen!” Tony groaned and thrashed again, his eyes still shut as he fought to wake up. “This isn’t you… don’t do this.”

Stephen barely held back tears as he spoke again. “It’s over Tony, I’m back. I’m me again. I won’t hurt you, I promise I’ll never hurt you as long as I live.”

Tony was shaking when he finally woke up, unsure if he was even breathing. He opened his eyes hastily, studying the look on Stephen’s face. Stephen looked concerned, even worried, but unsure of himself as he murmured soothing nonsense to Tony.

“Breathe, Tones,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Just breathe, we’re alright. I’ll leave you be once I’m sure you’re okay, and—”

Tony wrapped his arms around Stephen and hugged him tightly. “Don’t you dare. Don’t go… please don’t go Stephen.”

“I can’t risk scaring you again Tony. I’ve already hurt you enough, it’s not fair to keep putting you through this,” Stephen argued, fighting his urge to hug Tony back.

Tony only held on tighter, determined not to let Stephen leave.

Stephen still wanted to disappear, but he quickly understood that Tony wouldn’t let him go that easily. The mechanic was still shivering and trembling, slowly starting to calm down as Stephen hesitantly hugged him back.

++++

They both woke up at the same time, almost four days later. Stephen woke up slowly, feeling like he was underwater or in a fog, while Tony started awake across town.

It was pitch dark in the room, the heavy curtains drawn shut to keep out any intrusive light. It was the middle of the day, judging by the clock Stephen kept on his nightstand, but he couldn’t feel the sun on his face, or see any light from his window. He was bathing in pitch black. At first, he thought he was dead, doomed to an eternity in darkness, when something red bloomed and came to life beside him. Even now, his Cloak was always dramatic, comforting as it covered him like a blanket.

As his eyes adjusted, Stephen registered Wong and Christine on the other side of the room, just studying him.

Christine was the first to meet his stare, rushing to his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Stephen grimaced in pain as he shrugged. “Not great, thanks.” There was something else on his mind, but he was too afraid to ask. He was almost too scared to hear the answer.

Luckily, Wong spoke up before Stephen could ask. “You slept for three and a half days, Strange. How much do you remember?”

“Something attacked the Compound… I think it was me,” he mumbled.

“Not exactly,” Wong began, gentler than Stephen had ever heard him.

“Possessed or not, I still attacked!” Stephen sat up, paying the price as he rose quicker than his body could handle. “It doesn’t matter if I saved everyone, not if I almost killed them first.”

Neither Wong nor Christine spoke, and the cloak simply wrapped tighter around Stephen’s shoulders.

“You did save everyone,” Wong said finally. “And you banished whatever entity possessed you. We still haven’t figured out what it is, but…”

Wong’s voice trailed off as Stephen stopped listening. His head started to hurt as he remembered, in searing detail, more of what happened and what caused him to snap out of the state he was in.

Tony was near silent, his voice failing him after hours of tortured screams. Somewhere, somehow, Stephen knew that he was the one hurting him, the one causing Tony so much pain even though he promised never to hurt the hero. He wanted to stop, to end all of the carnage he’d brought to the Compound, to his friends who were starting to feel like family, to Tony… but he couldn’t. The hand controlling his impulsive strings was strong and steady, and it wouldn’t rest until Stephen finished its bidding.

His movements were mechanical as he strode, like the marionette he’d become, to stand in front of Tony.

And Tony just looked at him with a defeated, almost calm look on his face.

Stephen’s voice sounded distorted when he spoke, preening with a twisted smile as he bent to look upon the man of iron. “Accepted your fate?”

“You won’t be the first person I’ve loved who’s hurt me,” Tony said, between pained breaths. “There’s nothing to say.”

Stephen tried to back up, to keep himself still, but he couldn’t fight the influence of his controller and struck Tony again. “Arrogance is unbecoming.”

Tony inhaled again, deeper and more pained this time but somehow even calmer. “Go ahead and finish the job. I won’t hold it against you, Stephen.”

Stephen was hyperventilating when he heard Wong’s voice again, pressed against the headboard of his bed like he was backed into a corner.

Christine approached him tentatively, resting her hand on one of his shoulders.

Stephen recoiled away from the touch and curled up on himself like a turtle retreating in its shell. He ducked his head under a pillow, shaking in fear and pain from moving too quickly. “Did I… did I kill him? I remember everything until I was about to… please tell me I—”

“You didn’t.” Christine cut him off, hoping to keep her friend from spiraling further. “Wong said you saved everyone, and that includes Tony.”

Stephen sobbed just hearing his partner’s name. Guilt wracked his entire body as he cried harder and harder, his magic running through his veins. Was he not this exhausted, he’d probably set fire to something from his high levels of stress and fear, but all he could do was cry until he fell into painful sleep.

++++

He didn’t finish it.

He didn’t listen.

Tony remembered the horrified look he saw on Stephen’s face, the remorse in his eyes as he sent a vaguely corporeal figure of dark energy through a portal.

Tony remembered the way Stephen apologized again and again as his eyes started closing, overwhelmed by the pain seizing his mind and body. A part of him hoped that Stephen had listened, that maybe the last thing he’d see in this life would be the face he’d come to absolutely adore…

… But he’d woken up sometime later in the MedBay, wanting to see Stephen more than anything. In spite of everything that’d just happened, or maybe because of everything that’d just happened, all Tony really wanted was to go back to sleep, preferably in his partner’s embrace. That really didn’t seem like too much to ask for.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

Tony almost didn’t notice Peter pacing around on the ceiling, in fact he didn’t know his pseudo son was even in the room until he suddenly landed a few feet away. “I feel great, Kid. Definitely not like I took a ton of bricks to the face.” He didn’t remember the gory details of the fight, so Tony couldn’t say whether or not he was being literal.

“Welcome back, Boss,” FRIDAY said, a hint of worry in her voice. “And good morning. It’s currently half nine on Tuesday. I’ve been asked to inform you that Col. Rhodes has returned from Washington and has volunteered to lead all reconstruction projects for the Compound. He’s also asked me to keep you updated and will be coming to see you this afternoon.”

Tony sighed. “Thank you. Wait… that means Rhodey came back early?��

“He did,” FRIDAY replied simply. Her voice sounded like what a nod looked like as she continued. “Would you like me to tell him that you asked about him?”

“Sure, but don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to rush to see me,” Tony replied, knowing that Rhodey would probably come anyway. He was maybe the one exception to what Tony had told Stephen earlier, before…

“Col. Rhodes will be here within the hour,” FRIDAY announced.

“Thanks Fri.”

Peter, who had started pacing on the ceiling again, asked what Tony had been wondering since he woke up. “Where’s the Doc?”

“I dunno, Pete. I’ve been wondering that myself,” Tony admitted. “Fri, you wouldn’t happen to know… would you?”

“As far as I can tell, Doctor Strange returned to the Sanctum following the… altercation… on Thursday,” the AI reported.

“What? Altercation? What happened?” Peter landed on the floor again, looking more worried than Tony thought he deserved to.

“There was just a small wizarding mishap, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. He shrugged, trying to reassure Peter as much as he could. “Not even an emergency, Underoos. We would’ve called for you if it was.”

Tony also didn’t want Peter to see what happened. Maybe he was sheltering the kid, but he didn’t want Peter to ever find out about the attack on the Compound. It was bad enough that the team, even in their varied states of consciousness, saw what they did. They saw the fear in Tony’s eyes, saw him slowly surrender to Stephen’s ruthless attacks until he just stopped trying to fight the sorcerer. Tony knew he couldn’t parry these magical attacks, couldn’t break the spelled restraints… but he didn’t want Peter to see how easily he’d given up.

If Peter had more to say, he simply chose not to ask about it. Instead he just shrugged. “Glad you’re okay, Mr. Stark. May heard from Pepper that you got hurt, so I wanted to swing by… no pun intended.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that calling me ‘Tony’ is fine?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes warmly. “I’m fine, Pete. Not up for working in the lab today, I’m afraid, but—”

“That’s okay! My suit isn’t going anywhere, we can upgrade anytime,” Peter replied. “I promised May I’d be home for movie night, but I just wanted to come see you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You’re a good kid, Son. Get home safe, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in working condition.”

“Thanks IronDad!” Peter was gone in a second, leaving Tony in the quiet with his thoughts.

“Fri?” He asked after a few minutes.

“Still here, Boss.”

“Will you… will you tell Stephen I want to see him?” Tony asked.

Maybe he was the spoiled brat everyone believed, or maybe he was exhausted and touch starved and showing signs of an addictive personality. Tony didn’t know, he didn’t care, and he just wanted his sorcerer back.

“I’ll let him know,” FRIDAY replied, softer than normal.

++++

“Stephen, it’s been days. Days since the attack, days since you holed yourself up in my library like you’re going into hibernation—”

“Good morning to you too, Wong.”

Wong may have laughed at Stephen’s attitude if he didn’t feel so bad for him. Stephen was completely out of it, so much so that he didn’t even realize how late in the day it was. “It’s almost eight, Strange.”

Stephen just sighed. “Did you need something from me?”

“Stark is asking for you again. I think you should see him.”

“You said that yesterday,” Stephen muttered.

“I’m saying it again now. I know you, Stephen, I can read you like any book in here.” Wong began. “You’re trying to outrun your guilt but you know it’s not that easy. Ignoring Tony isn’t going to make things go away, and it’s not going to make either of you feel better. He misses you, and I know you miss him too.”

“I don’t know how I can even look at him after what I did… he trusted me,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his lap. “I broke his trust.”

“Not willingly, and he knows that,” Wong reminded him. “It wasn’t you, Stephen.”

Stephen ignored him, beginning to tremble as he thought back to what Tony had said to him. “He told me he wouldn’t hold it against me… that I wasn’t the first of his loved ones to hurt him. I don’t know what I could do or say to prove to him, let alone to the team, that I’d never hurt them again.”

“Hiding away in here isn’t helping to prove that,” Wong said.

“You just want your chair by the window back,” Stephen accused him.

“Of course I do! But I also care about you and your happiness. If you need anyone to vouch for you, I’ll be here,” Wong replied.

“That sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me.”

“I have. Go now, before it gets too late.”

Stephen opened a portal to the tower, just outside of the lab. “I doubt Tony would be asleep, he’s always awake.”

His suspicions were confirmed as he closed the portal. Tony was in his lab where Stephen thought he’d be, a mug in one hand and a pen in the other.

Stephen’s entire body trembled with nerves as he opened the door, the cloak knocking loudly and dramatically to make his presence known.

“FRIDAY, Quiet Place Protocol please,” Tony said. He looked up and smiled sadly at Stephen as the lab’s usual blaring music shut off. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Stephen suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. He was too scared to get any closer to Tony, afraid to hurt him, but at the same time all he wanted was to hug him.

The cloak made the first move, flying off of his shoulders and resting on Tony’s.

“Aww, hi Levy.” Of course Tony had a nickname for the relic, he had nicknames for everything and everyone.

Stephen found it annoying in the most heartwarming way, and he couldn’t help but smile as Tony sat down at his workbench.

“You can come over, you know?” Tony asked, half teasingly. “I told you I don’t bite, Steph.”

Stephen felt like a marionette again as he walked towards his boyfriend, but his heart was in control this time. He wanted to protect, to cherish, and to spoil the man in front of him with nothing but love and attention. He was just afraid, still unsure of himself as he studied Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I know.” Tony opened his palms on his lap, silently asking to hold Stephen’s hands.

Stephen let him, trembling harder as Tony held him gently. “I don’t know what happened, Tony. Something took over me, and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve never been overpowered like that before, and I didn’t know what to do. But please listen when I say that I promise it’ll never happen again, I mean that’s a given if you leave me, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Tony said firmly. “I know you weren’t voluntarily doing all of those things.”

“I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Tony…” Stephen took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Tony I could’ve killed you. The entire time I was trying to break the curse, to get that thing out of my system, I almost killed you. And you almost let me do it.”

“I did.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. Tony had that calm, accepting look on his face mixed with a kind, trusting expression. It was the same look he’d given Stephen in the ruins of the Compound, and it hurt. It didn’t feel like an apology would be enough to make things right, but what else was there to do now? “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony slid his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into the hug they’d both been needing. “I’m fine baby, it’s okay. It’s over.”

Stephen knew it wasn’t just over, and he knew Tony knew it too. But in the moment he was too fatigued to fight about it and let Tony hold him closer. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Tony replied. “Not to be cheesy or whatnot, but I do sleep better with you next to me.”

“May I take you to bed?” Stephen asked, sounding even shyer than when he normally asked that. “Please? I know it’s early, but I wouldn’t object to a nap.”

Tony nodded, shifting to press a chaste kiss to Stephen’s lips. “That sounds nice. FRIDAY, save and shut everything off please.”

“Engaging ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol, Boss,” FRIDAY reported dutifully.

Tony scoffed. “Remind me to never let you and Peter give Fri name suggestions again.”

“You could just change it if it bothers you that much.” Stephen chose to remind Tony of that instead, even though they both knew Tony was secretly fond of the movie references hidden in his protocols. “Besides, that serves you right for calling me Gandalf all the time.”

“If the shoe fits, babe,” Tony said. He stood up, keeping an arm wrapped around Stephen’s waist as they left the lab and headed for the elevators.

Despite feeling safe and loved in Tony’s arms, more than he could have ever hoped to be and probably more than he deserved, Stephen was still anxious. He felt out of place in the Tower, never mind the fact that he usually spent half of his time there, and he felt even more out of place amongst the team.

“How are the others?” He asked quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

“They’re getting better.” Tony saw no point in sugarcoating the truth. Stephen would see right through it, and that wouldn’t help him process everything. “Carol and Thor are both bored of training with each other, but no one else wants to spar with either of them yet. Or with Natasha, for that matter.”

“Does anyone ever want to spar with them on a good day?” Stephen asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“You’re all a bunch of sore losers who can’t rise to a friendly challenge” Natasha quipped, suddenly materializing in front of the couple. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he here?”

“Natasha, I—”

Natasha pointedly ignored Stephen. She never disliked the sorcerer, she was actually indifferent and had no issues telling Tony that, but Tony’s trustful, rather soft nature was a concern of hers. It worked in her favor, sure, but she was really trying to be a better friend to Tony and look out for him more. It was this concern that motivated her to look at Stephen with disgust. Natasha wasn’t scared of him, she took heavy damage in the attacks but it was more minimal compared to some of the things she’d put his friends and family through.

Tony was acting as if none of that happened, and that couldn’t stand.

Natasha frowned and glared at Stephen as she addressed Tony. “Tony what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t play dumb and tell me you’re not following. What are you still doing with him? You barely sleep more than an hour without waking everyone up screaming from phantom pain and nightmares! Do you think we can’t hear you yelling and begging for Stephen to stop torturing you and just kill you? Because we all do!” Natasha took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And after all that, you’re holding him like nothing is wrong? I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving sometimes.”

She stormed off before Stephen could defend himself or before Tony could respond. Her words echoed in Stephen’s head as Tony continued to lead him down the hallway, into the elevator, and into the penthouse.

Stephen sat dejectedly on the bed as Tony shuffled around the room, grabbing a few blankets from the closet. He didn’t say anything as Tony made a little nest of pillows and blankets, the cloak joining the haphazard pile the minute Tony curled up under a throw. Eventually Stephen allowed himself to lay down, offering no protests as Tony hugged him again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, mumbling into the soft fabric of Tony’s shirt.

“I know,” Tony said simply. “Relax sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He was still tense, curling up smaller in Tony’s arms. “Are you okay?” The sorcerer asked.

“I’m fine,” Tony reassured him. That was half true. He was fine, to a point, but there were things bothering him that he had no idea how to tell Stephen about.

Eventually they would have to face the music and talk about everything, and they both knew it. For now, Tony was somewhat okay with ignoring it, clinging to the hope that having his Stephen back would keep the memories at bay.

Tags: @stark-strange-love2 @salty-ironstrange-shipper @funkylittlebidiot @richieleeparker @chocopiggy @hatakehikari @taruyison

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windblooms · 4 years

Text

topaz devices | ch. 01

if zhongli isn’t a the brightest individual blessed by the archons, then he’s socially inept, and spends his days stuck behind a desk as the heir of wangsheng incorporated. frustrated by seeing his best friend burn through his days like paper over a bonfire, childe decides that if there’s one thing worse than a permeant desk job, it’s being converted into a corporate machine in one’s mid-twenties. and he’s not going to let that happen to zhongli.

gender-neutral reader x sugar daddy!zhongli. modern au, slow burn. chapter 1/?. 2213 words.

as usual, zhongli awakens a minute before his morning alarm goes off.

and as he lays on the daybed, adjusting to the faint lighting of the moon that floats through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, the first thing he does is reach for his phone. but when he pats down the area beside him, then above his head, and feels nothing, he begrudgingly props himself up on his elbows, and blinks the final bits of sleep out of his eyes.

this isn’t the first time he’s fallen asleep at the office. admittedly, it’s probably over his hundredth, since he’s found it more practical to crash near his workspace than drag himself three floors up to his room. but, oh, where did he leave his phone? zhongli glances around, eyes no longer bleary; it’s not on the coffee table next to him, nor on the floor between it and the daybed, and for a split second he believes he left his phone at the tea station across the hall.

and then it chimes with his alarm on the marble floor just before his work desk.

“ah,” he sighs to himself, voice still somewhat choked from the morning. as the tone plays, he runs both of his hands through his hair, pulling back his bangs before letting them fall to the sides of his face, and takes a glance around his office: he vaguely remembers staying up until four in the morning to finish scanning over a forwarded contract, and the three empty cups of caffeinated tea that surround his desktop computer can attest to his commitment; there are reference binders on his desk that zhongli hadn’t put away after using, likely too engrossed in the project to tidy up as he worked, and the most damning evidence of his corporate devotion is easily the fact that, well –

“conference in one hour,” his phone alarm is interrupted by the sound of its virtual assistant voice. “conference with,” it continues in robotic fashion, “mrs. ningguang at seven-thirty-a.m.”

– he had scheduled an impromptu meeting after he finished reading said document. as in, he intended to follow through with a meeting arrangement on less than four hours of sleep. as in, arranged a meeting when it was three in the morning.

as in, he also expected others to attend the conference on a four hour’s notice.

such is the way of wangsheng incorporated, an institution where everyone involved is asked to sell their soul to the matriarch, all for the prosperity of her company. the matriarch in this case being, of course, zhongli’s mother.

“conference with,” his virtual assistant repeats, and zhongli hauls himself up from the daybed and onto his feet, padding over to his phone before swiping over the screen to silence all of his notifications. “mrs. ninggua – ” beep.

he inhales, stretches his arms, and then gazes out to the liyuen skyline.

the horizon is still dark, with only hints of warmth leaking onto the expansive blanket of night. below, however, the streets are illuminated by commuting vehicles and establishments opening for the day. from his place on the higher floors of the company building, zhongli can only imagine the hum of life – he’s much too far up to actually hear anything.

it’s at this moment he realizes that the last time he’s actually stepped foot out of the building was over a week ago – and a grimace becomes his first expression of the day. archons, he didn’t think he was that busy, but begins mentally count the days regardless. yeah, 9 days. zhongli’s frown deepens; knowing himself, it’s probably also been 9 days since he’s left his floor on the building.

as much as he would like to leave, though, the company is more important to him. until there’s a convenient time for him to take a break, he’ll keep working. it’s what he’s always done – it’s what he’s good at.

so he inhales once more, as the skyline is washed with violet. exhales.

the clock reads six thirty-three.

. . .

it’s around four in the morning when childe decides that zhongli is officially insane.

who the fuck arranges a meeting in the dead middle of the night? granted, he’s only zhongli’s secretary, so it’s not like he has to take part in it – the gripe here is that he’s the one who manages zhongli’s entire schedule. so when zhongli goes out on his own, arranging things without telling him first, that’s when the issues start.

childe receives the conference notice just as the other executives do (while on a comfortable date with his bed); reading zhongli’s attached note with gunk wedged in his eyes and a screen flashing blue light directly into his irises makes him think –

there’s no way zhongli’s in the right state of mind. and after three whole years of working with him, others would think that childe’s used to his mercurial behavior by now. but he would give himself more credit, insisting that he’s not that deep into the corporate mentality to put business before rationale – but maybe it’s the luxury that comes along with being a secretary and not anyone more important.

now, where was he? oh, yeah. plotting exactly which words to tell his boss when it’s an acceptable time in the morning.

that means grumbling obscenities until he falls back asleep, brain power exhausted. that means waking up at an appropriate time (read: six), rolling out of bed, then heading to the tea bar, and concluding that, well, this is just how zhongli operates.

as in, he can’t be angry at his best friend for long.

ceramic cup in hand and bedhead as thick as a haystack, childe recalls two things that were previously clouded by his indignance: one, that the business life is all zhongli’s ever known, even when he was a kid (that much was made obvious when he couldn’t even list out how many hobbies he had the first time they met). two, the fact that, when asked, zhongli didn’t know which would be worse between losing stock investments or entire contact with the outside world.

sheltered is probably the closest word childe can think of, but zhongli isn’t stupid either. maybe socially inept is the better way to describe him – not like it cripples his personality entirely though. he’s got some redeeming qualities – childe tells himself to think positively of zhongli for the entirety of his stroll down the hall towards his office – but stops short once he opens the door and realizes that, well,

“three,” childe mouths incredulously, nearly dropping the ceramic in his hand. “three cups of tea from last night alone?”

“good morning to you too.”

childe doesn’t have much time to gawk. he would drag his face down with his fingers if his hands weren’t occupied, but knowing zhongli, he wouldn’t even make note of his dramatics. absorbed into his work first thing in the morning – and childe, looking down at himself, isn’t even dressed properly. just a dress shirt and pants, while zhongli has already decked himself out in a full-piece suit.

that’s what happens when zhongli decides that his office is where he’s going to live.

“you know,” childe starts, sighing for good measure. the ginger makes his way over to zhongli’s desk, replacing the three cups with one of fresh tea. glaze lily tea, to zhongli’s preference. “staying up late isn’t good for your health. especially when you’re high on caffeine six days a week.”

well, duh. the words come out dumber than he intended, but it gets the point across. it’s not childe’s job to sound intelligent, only that he knows how to manage someone else’s schedule.

it takes a few seconds for zhongli to respond, as his fingers are busy typing away at the keyboard. drafting another email, most likely. in that time, childe hooks his fingers through the handles of the three cups zhongli had downed the previous night, preparing to carry them out. “i do what i need to get things done,” the workaholic counters. his eyes don’t leave the monitor for a second, and childe has half the mind to think that he’s a robot. “we’ve talked about this before.”

zhongli’s not wrong, but childe’s face sours nonetheless. “i can’t have the heir of the company sabotaged by his own toxic work ethic, and insist that you take a nap whenever possible, my liege.”

his dramatics doesn’t earn him any points. he worries briefly that zhongli’s already gone into his own world, only able to be hauled back to the surface once the sun is far gone, and his eyebrows furrow. but now bent on getting a constructive response from zhongli, he refuses to budge from his spot across the desk.

almost as if he’s uncomfortable, zhongli looks up. childe knows he’s not actually peeved, and that the brunette is just thinking of what to say. three years of working for him taught him as much. “if i have time to, then i will.” the young heir averts his eyes towards the screen before meeting childe’s again. “thanks for your concern.”

if childe were any other person, he would believe zhongli. zhongli speaks without a falter in his voice – as if it weren’t already as smooth as velvet – and his eyes are resolute when locked onto his. but he’s not someone else, and the closest individual to a friend that zhongli has. it would be a disservice, both as a friend and coworker, to leave zhongli to his devices. so childe doesn’t relent. it’s his turn to be stubborn and set in his ways.

he places the cups back onto the desk, and the other man looks up curiously, just in time to see childe’s eyes narrow. “i mean it, zhongs.”

and, with just as much performative sincerity as before, zhongli says the same thing he always does, with a straight face and empty eyes. “i do, too.”

“no, you don’t.” childe’s scowl is as deep as his concern. he wasn’t joking earlier when he said that zhongli would be murdered by his own obsession with work – “responsibility,” as the younger of the two would insist, but he’s blind to his own persistence, and time has made that blatantly obvious. “i know you have a meeting soon, so i won’t stay long. i don’t care if we’ve talked about this before,” he rushes his words, determined to get them in before zhongli quips, “it doesn’t make it any less important.”

a pause. zhongli’s typing has halted and is instead replaced by silence. hell, he even folds his fingers together on top of the keyboard, as if telling childe that he finally has his full attention. but the void in his eyes hasn’t changed: amber, clouded with vermillion, and burning in coals.

childe assesses him sternly, extending the stillness of the moment, before proceeding. “i’m going to block out your schedule tonight after eight, and we’re going to have a talk.”

zhongli tries not to look fazed. to his credit, he really, really tries, but his posture bristles just enough to cue the secretary in on his client’s displeasure. “no, i’m not going to watch over you for the rest of the night to make sure you sleep,” he reassures just as swiftly, half-teasing and half-serious, “but we are going to make some plans.”

both of childe’s hands are flat on the desk as the two of them regard each other. although zhongli is the taller of the two, his position in the office chair gives childe the height advantage in the current situation. “after you get enough rest this week, i’m going to get you out of this building,” childe vows to zhongli. neither of them blink. “you’re going to walk on the streets and breathe fresh air. you’re going to spend time with people your age and eat at a restaurant. you’re going to have fun.”

it is at that moment, when zhongli’s face falters as if he’s being spoken to in python when his input is java, that childe realizes that he has no strategy, and that he’s just saying the things that he wants for zhongli: he refuses to believe that zhongli will continue to regard this room, conditioned with with frigid air and tailored to each tile on the floor, is his only future, and instead wants his 25 year-old boss to have some semblance of life in his days instead of bleeding through each, only to tear through the next.

childe had the choice to dream towards the life he currently lives. on the other hand, zhongli never did. inheriting a multi-million dollar company, especially being the son of the ceo, outwardly sounds like the opportunity only the archons could bestow. childe would have thought the same too.

until he realized that predestination sucks, and that zhongli is too good to wither his youth away behind a desk.

childe has exactly thirteen hours to come up with a plan. from the thoughts floating in his head, it can turn out in one of two ways:

one: zhongli is integrated back into society and lives a happier, more animated life than what he currently has.

two: childe loses his job.

#genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli scenarios #zhongli headcanons #modern au #sugar daddy au #slow burn #eventual smut #how to tag :')

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

Notting Hill AU Snippet #6

When they finally leave her brother's house, Lena is simultaneously exhausted and wired. Exhausted, because even a good time takes it out of her, and yet wired because the world's most famous woman is right next to her on the sidewalk, nudging shoulders as they walk down the block. It makes for a heady combination, which is the only reason at all that Lena finds herself rising to Kara's challenge of climbing over a wrought iron gate to the garden beyond.

"For the record," she huffs, struggling to find purchase with her bare hands, "I am not dressed for this-- whoopsie daisy!"

What the FUCK did she just say?

"What did you just say?" Kara echoes, her smile audible in the dark.

"Nothing," Lena brushes off as she resets. "Just, trying to get a decent foothold-- whoops!"

She slips again, and this time Kara laughs, the sound loud and musical. "You said whoopsy daisy. Like some mid-century housewife--"

"You keep distracting me!"

"From what? Another whoopsy daisy?" Kara nudges her aside, dusting off her hands. "Step aside, miss priss. Watch the professional work."

Lena obeys, turning her head aside to avoid her nose brushing a very toned, very firm ass as Kara shimmied her way up and over the fence in one try. Lena's mouth goes dry at the smoothness of the motion, and the way Kara's arms strain against the slim cut of her blouse.

Kara may be an actress, but she's clearly no waif.

The woman in question grins at her from the other side of the fence. "You know, you say you're not intimidated by a silly rule, but I think there may be some subliminal hangups..."

Lena scowls. "Oh, like hell."

Boots scrabbling against the fenceposts, Lena hauls herself up through sheer willpower alone. By the time she lands on her feet on the far side, Kara has disappeared further into the garden. With a quiet curse, Lena brushes herself off and straightens her hair before trotting after her.

"Wow..." Kara breathes when Lena catches up. "It's like it's own little world in here."

Lena watches her observe the garden, noting the way her eyes sparkle in the faint light trickling in around them. The field they stand in is lush beneath their feet, and even in the dark the scent of fragrant flowers fills the air.

Kara makes her way over to a bench, and reads the inscription on. "To June, who sat on this bench every day. From John, who always sat beside her."

Lena smiles at the sentiment, and the way Kara's voice softens as she reads it. It's beautiful, and she says so.

"I guess some love does last forever," Kara remarks, half to herself. She sits on the bench, smoothing her hands across the wood as if to ask its owners for the privilege. After a moment, she notices Lena watching. "Come sit with me."

Lena does, and they spend the night with Kara's head on Lena's shoulders, looking at the stars.

---

The next night, they go on a proper date. Or at least they try to, except Lena can't find her glasses and Querl is absolutely no help in finding them, so she watches the entire movie through the prescription lenses of her snorkel mask.

Luckily, it only makes Kara laugh, even if it earns Lena a couple handfuls of popcorn in her hair from being pelted. Afterwards, Lena takes them to her favorite sushi restaurant, and makes a show of ordering in Japanese.

"Arigato gozaimasu," she finishes, handing over her menu. When she looks across the table at Kara, she's pleased to see she's impressed.

"Now how did you learn Japanese if you've never traveled?"

Lena shrugs. "I may have dated a few travelers in my day."

"Uh huh," Kara deadpans. "What else did they show you?"

Looking up, Lena lets a lascivious grin curl her lips. "Maybe I'll get to show you."

Lena revels in the fluster that marks Kara's acceptance of the sake that comes a moment later, and marks the red blush that heats under tan skin. The conversation shifts away, but continues, and Lena lets it, content with the impact she's made.

As the meal winds down, they linger a little bit, trading information they haven't shared yet.

"What's the one place you want to go, above all others?" Kara asks.

Lena sighs. "I don't know." Kara looks at her suspiciously, and Lena lifts her hands. "I could give you the same tripe I give any customer in my shop, but the truth is, the idea of travel has never really been the destination for me."

Kara looks surprised at that. "Oh?"

With a hum, Lena nods. "For me, it's always been more about who you're traveling with. And for a while there, I thought I had someone, but she never wanted to go anywhere. In the end, it turned out she just never wanted to go anywhere with me."

It still aches. Her split with Veronica had been so sudden, it split Lena's entire entire world apart. It had been bad enough to learn that Veronica had well and truly checked out of their relationship long before she ended it. To hear that Veronica had never really been in it in the first place had--

"Then she's an idiot," Kara says, bringing Lena out of her thoughts back to the present day. She reaches across the table, and links their fingers together. "And it's her loss."

Lena forces a grin. "Funnily, that's exactly what my therapist said..."

A round of raucous table from the table behind them drowns out whatever else she might have said. Glancing over, Lena registers a group of young to middle aged men in suits-- likely stock brokers, in this part of town. They were rowdy even when they came in, but now--a round of sake later-- they're downright obnoxious.

The next one who speaks doesn't bother to mind his words or his volume.

"Give me Kara Danvers any day."

Kara meets Lena's eye across the table, rolling her eyes as his buddy chimed in.

"Didn't like her last film. Fell asleep as soon as the lights went down."

"Don't care what the films like-- if it's got Kara Danvers, it's fine by me. I mean, have you seen that ass."

Lena's jaw clenches. Kara's hand slips away, as does her gaze.

"Oh hell yeah," another one continues. "And you know she's just begging for it. Never wonder how she got that gig in Dirty Dancing, did you?"

"It sure as hell wasn't because she could dance!" They all laughed. Lena shifts in her seat, blood boiling, but Kara catches her eye, shaking her head no. Too late.

Lena rises to her feet and marches to the offending table. "Excuse me, boys, but every single person in this restaurant can hear you. And while I'm perfectly happy to watch you reveal yourselves to be the absolute cunts you are, I take exception to the fact that you're talking about a very real person in the process."

The table stares at her, shocked.

"You." Lena glares at the worst offender. "Does your mother know you debase women with the same mouth you use to kiss her on the cheek? How about your girlfriend, though I find it incredibly doubtful you've managed to shag anyone with that kind of charm."

Kara tugs on Lena's arm, trying to pull her away. Lena almost goes, but turns back at the last minute, nearly colliding with the server hurrying in with the table's paid check.

"Actually, I'm not finished. Until each and every one of you learns a woman's favorite song, color and five year goal, you sure as hell don't get to wonder what flavor condom she prefers, you got it?" Her gaze lands on the platinum credit card in the ticket tray, and smirks in triumph when she sees it's a corporate card.

"And I'm sure that Lord Holdings will be thrilled to hear all about how their employees behave while they're out eating on the company's dime."

At that, the man she'd skewered a moment ago finally recovers enough to scoff. "Hah, and what do you care? What are you, her sister?"

"Actually," Kara speaks up, coming to stand beside Lena. "She's my date."

Dead silence follows as every single one of them registers who exactly is speaking. Finally, one of them tries to sputter an apology, but Kara waves it off.

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. I'm sure it was just joking between friends, just as I'm sure your dicks are the size of peanuts. Enjoy your dinner!"

With that, Kara turns away, snagging Lena's hand as she does. Allowing herself to be towed away, Lena flips them the vee and grins, then joins Kara in trotting out of the restaurant.

As soon as they hit the street they both start to cackle, drawing stares as they laugh maniacally. Lena's heart is pounding, as is Kara's, judging from the way she holds a hand against her chest.

"Oh, my god... I-- I've never done that before!" Kara laughs. "I don't know what came over me!"

"What, standing up for yourself? You're a natural!"

"No, you were amazing! I dunno, I just heard you and I saw you facing off against them all alone, and I just-- did that! I just did that!"

Kara laughs again, and Lena tugs her closer by the hips. Pressing a kiss to her lips, Lena smiles at her. "It looks good on you," she purrs. "You should do it more often."

Kara smiles back at her, rubbing her thumbs on the ridges of Lena's hips. "Maybe I will."

Lena could kiss her again, but Kara steps back, tugging them back in the direction of the hotel. "Walk me home?"

The walk back is spent in comfortable silence, but as they near the marquee of the Ritz, Lena's heart starts to pound for a whole new reason when Kara turns to her. "Wanna come up?"

Lena nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Kara gives a small of relief, and smiles. "Good. Give me five minutes."

The next five minutes are the longest of Lena's life. But she waits them, hands jammed into her pockets, and counts every second before finally allowing herself to head up to the room.

When she knocks, she isn't entirely sure what to expect. A robe, maybe, left open to reveal tantalzyingly firm abs. Matching lingerie, even, to match Kara's eyes.

What she doesn't expect is Kara fully clothed with panic in her eyes.

"You've got to go," Kara whispers.

Lena freezes, but keeps her smile in place. "Why?" she whispers back.

"Because my boyfriend, who was in America, is in fact here in the next room."

previous / next

#supercorp #notting hill au

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yn-x-animeboy · 3 years

Text

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt.5

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

synopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought

part 4: here

-----

Part 5- TIME SKIP

(a/n I will do another time skip so it wont turn out to be a 500 part fanfic)

Mini Billboard awards recap:

After the drunken hotel chaotic night you all were late for rehearsals, both your and BTS’s staff looked for you guys’ everywhere in the morning and the last place they thought to look for you all was in Jin’s room. Let's just say it was in general an interesting experience to find eight adults sleeping soundly in uncomfortable random positions.

You all finally headed to your rehearsals for the performances. They invited you to watch them rehearse when you were taking a break from your own rehearsal. Even though the guys were tired, hungover, and their muscles ached from sleeping all over the place; they did such an amazing job at rehearsal, they were so professional.

During the live award show your fans and ARMYs lost it everytime you guys would interact during the awards; the fact that you had met them last night and you all seemed to be such good friends now made fans so happy. Once again your name and BTS’s were going viral on social media; a bunch of ‘fancams’ were filmed and posted focusing on you all.

You and BTS won all the categories you we’re nominated for that night and your performances went great too. That night after the award show ended, instead of going to the Awards After Party, you all decided to not go and instead hung out in Jin’s room again for the night. You ordered room service and champagne (this time everyone was only allowed to have 2 glasses max.).

After being all drained form the long day, you all went to your personal rooms. Jungkook again offered to take you to your room. When you arrived at your door you turned and looked at eachother, this time sad smiles painted your faces, you had held in the tears when you where in Jin’s room because you felt sad your first real friends in the industry were going back to Korea tomorrow just like that.

Now you were standing in front of Jungkook, the man of your dreams, a literal fantasy that came true all thanks to your fans and supporters; you couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of letting someone like him go.

You broke eye contact and turned towards the door to hide your tears, a small sniff from behind you made you stop dead in your tracks. Jungkook turned you around and hugged you tightly as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You also wrapped your arms around him in response.

He loosened his hold and avoided eye contact with you as he was getting more and more emotional, his eyes where red and glossy; he cleared his throat and said “Well I think I should get going, It was so nice hanging out with you y/n- and meeting you, good night” he gave you another tight sad smile and walked off with his head hung low.

You reached him and held onto the back of his shirt, “Don’t go....” you sniffed and played with the back of his shirt. “Do you want to.. maybe... hang out a little longer? O-only if you want to” you said awkwardly, but he smiled and nodded.

You went to the terrazze you had visited just the day before and sat on the outdoor chairs. You sat there talked all night. You stayed up until you could see the sun slowly rising; you both stood up, taking the sunrise as a sign to go back inside. Before you could even begin to move towards the door, “Y/n, can I hold you one more time?” Jungkook said, he was trying so hard to smile and not make you cry, but his little voice crack as he said it betrayed him. You sobbed and hugged him again, after a while he sat down, sitting you on his lap. You stayed like that until you received a “wake up” phone call from one of your staff members.

----

In the morning you all met each other outside the hotel, the boys said goodbye to you one by one hugging you and saving your phone number in theirs. They even made plans, comparing your schedules and timezones, so that they could all facetime you daily.

While you waited for your assigned cars to pick you up, you all teared up and huddled together saying goodbye once again. Paparazzi were peeking through the crowd of security and staff members to get an insight to the sad goodbye.

----- time skip ----

It has been almost a year since the Jimmy Fallon Show. Even though the distance made everything more complicated, the guys have done everything in their power to make time in their busy days to dedicate time for you. After almost a year of daily video call conversations and catch-ups you have become such good friends, they even call you ‘yeodongsaeng’ (little sister) now; (the only one who doesn’t call you that is Jungkook tho, he calls you by your name or by random nicknames).

They have kept their promise after all this time, they facetime you EVERYDAY, they have never missed a day where they don’t call you, sometimes not all the seven members can be there for the call, but even if there is only one BTS member available, you WILL recive a call from them.

You also have individual calls with the guys from time to time:

Jin calls you once in a while when you are making dinner to help you/guide you and or just talk to you.

Suga calls when he is stuck writing lyrics or creating beats for new songs, or just for musical advice. You are always the first to hear new BTS music now.

Jimin calls when he feels like talking, you have become each other's personal psychologists

J-Hope calls you every couple days to have “lunch together” through a screen.

RM calls you too to chat a lot, you both recommend each other good books and even exchange lyrics from time to time. He also asks you to revise english lyrics to make sure they sound okay.

Taehyung calls you for pretty much everything: for advice, opinions, to catch up, for help, to keep him company etc. He always knows how to make you laugh, and regularly interrupts your calls with other members.

Jungkook…. He doesn't just call you “sometimes”, he not only participates in the ‘daily facetime group call’, but he also calls you everyday before you go to bed, no matter what time it is in Korea or how busy he is, we always calls and to wish you a good night sleep; keeping you company and not hanging up until you fall asleep. Plus you two constantly text back and forth 24/7.

You loved calling the guys and catching up with them every day, those calls were the highlight of your day; but every time you got a phone/video call, text, mail, snap, ANYTHING that was sent by Jungkook, your heart always skipped a beat; you felt tingles on the tips of your fingers every time you answer back; you smile stupidly at your phone and even now can’t sleep without your nightly virtual tuck in from Jungkook.

(Deep down you knew your ‘platonic crush’ had become a real crush but you still denied it because in your mind, still, dating him seemed something impossible, but after every conversation you two have had over the course of almost a year left no doubt in your mind, he was the one for you)

-----

One day, you visited your label’s building, you had a scheduled meeting pretty early in the morning, you had never been this early anywhere, it was currently 5:30 am. and you were just arriving. Once you step into the meeting room you are greeted by the intimidating group of businessmen and businesswomen who are part of your team. Even though they are intimidating and powerful; they are kind hardworking people; they really respect you and always listen to what you want or have to propose.

Walking in, you are greeted respectfully by them; the boss of the company stands up, gives you a side hug, and opens the chair next to his, inviting you to sit there, after you take a seat and your manager takes a seat next to you too. The meeting begins going over normal business stuff you don't really understand, (Sam would probably just translate the info later into simple words for you.) They talked about numbers, statistics and percentages until someone’s assistant said the ‘important person’ they had been waiting for was finally ready.

You turned to the door as you expected the ‘important guest’ to come in through the door, but instead his video call was answered and projected on the room’s screen from a laptop.

You recognized him immediately, he was BTS’s PD Bang Si-hyuk, he was the owner of BTS’s label company. You greeted him through the screen in Korean but he actually greeted you back in English before greeting your team.

the meeting’s summary:

Bang Si-hyuk talked about how much BTS liked you as a person and as an artist; and how the Hybe Corporation also really admired and respected you.

He invited you to Korea next week to meet the Hybe corporation, and overlook some business proposals

He also offered for you to participate in RUN BTS, while you were there and hang out with the boys if you agreed.He hinted you would be seeing them more often, which made you more confused

You agreed to go and to visit the company and OBVIOUSLY to see the guys, but still, you were confused as to why this offer was being made, why now, why you, why?

After you kindly thanked him, you also asked why he was doing it. You were confused why make such a big deal for you to visit, and what he meant by ‘business proposals’ you were to overlook there.

Bang Si-hyuk tried to explain in short and simple words; he explained that: Hybe and your label company had had meetings before, overlooking the possibility of merging part of your company under your name with Hybe, they were not only interested in collaborating with you, but actually working with you. This would give you many more opportunities as an artist and for your label’s name. (your company has connections to other music companies in other countries too, but this time it felt more of a big deal to you than the others tbh)

In conclusion if you agreed, and signed the contract; you could become part of the Hybe company while staying under your Label’s name

By doing this, it meant: 1. you had an extra contact in Korea (just like your company had in other countries) 2. extra work opportunities (thanks to your Korean speaking skills and influence) 3. possible future collaborations with BTS mainly, plus other K-pop artists 4. becoming a producer for other artists under the Hype record label (something like what Suge does irl; you are now able to produce or work behind the scenes making music for you, BTS, and others. a.k.a your dream come true) 5. SO ON AND SO ON.

You asked for the papers and after revising them with your lawyer and team you signed it, satisfied and excited tho what's to come.

You worked hard and finished all of your weekly tasks and even worked on things you had scheduled for next weeks. Before you knew it you were on your way to Korea…

You traveled on your private plane; you used it mainly to travel and avoid creating crowds in airports. (this was safer for you, your team and fans.)

When you arrived at Seoul, as you were getting off the plane and looked up after watching your feet as you went down the plane’s steps you saw seven boys stand out from the other people. They ran towards you and huddled around you hugging you tightly, they didn't let go of you, even as you all walked towards the assigned cars and again tightly rode the same car together like that one time after meeting on your way to the hotel. Staff members laughed at the Deja vú they felt as they saw a recreation of that chaotic day a year ago

It felt as if you all had never left each other, no weird silence, or awkward interactions, you all picked up where you left off.

When you arrived at the Hyde building, Hybe bilingual staff greeted you and your team, introducing themselves as the people who would be in charge of our care while visiting.

They took you and the few team members from your staff traveling with you to one of the floors where they gave your team some temporary office cubicles, so they could do their jobs while away from their cubicles back in America.

The Hybe staff also showed you to a private studio/office next to Sugas’s, it was decorated for you, it was spacious, comfy and waay better than your studio/office from back home. They told you they wanted you to have a personal space where you could hang out or work, since it was probable you would now be traveling back and forth from Korea and the US, due to the new business alliance between your companies.

The guys showed you around the building and introduced you to many Hybe staff members. They all made you feel at home.

You visited PD Bang Si-hyuk at his office and met him in person. He was so kind and welcoming, totally opposite from what you were expecting. He told you how excited he was for you to be part of the team and to work with your company. He also asked you if you could record a short video for his nieces who loved you.

Then, after finishing the tour the guys took you to their favorite restaurant in Korea; they taught you how to eat Korean food, how to properly hold chopsticks and about general Korean culture.

They showed you to the nice building of apartments where they currently lived and where you would also be staying when you came here.

You all toured you apartment and hung out the rest of the afternoon, enjoying each other's company.

After having dinner and chatting for hours the boys waved you off as they left your temporary home; they wanted to stay up and drink (again Jimin’s and Jin’s idea) with you but they knew you were super jet lagged from the time difference, fighting off sleep as you tried to enjoy your time with the guys.

They lived in the same apartment complex, but a different building, (a lot of famous Korean celebrities stay here too due to the security and convenience)The apartment complex was almost like a hotel resort or a private villa/island, it was huge, it had everything, form tennis courts, gyms, cafés, etc. It was also close to all the major ‘artist’ studios, sets, buildings.

So once the guys left, all they had to do to get home was ride the elevator down to your building’s the main floor, walk a bit, enter their building, get on an elevator, go up a couple floors, walk a little more and then into their shared million dollar apartment that was a literal castle compared to your apartment. (your apartment was big and luxurious too, but theirs was a multimillion dollar apartment)

You just arrived and felt so at home, everyone was so nice and promised to take good care of you. Nobody looked down at you or your team for being foreign or for being the ‘new guys’. Everything felt again like a dream. One day you are talking about BTS to your fans, the next you meet them, the next you are making contracts with the company they work for, the next you will be working with them; What’s next?

For now you are in Korea for two weeks max. The plan was to introduce you to the company, talk about future plans, projects, etc., and once that is done, go back to America and every couple of months or weeks depending on the schedules, travel back to Korea, etc, etc.

----

You brushed your teeth as an uncontrollable smile painted your face. Once you got ready for bed and finished texting your staff members making sure they were comfortable and well taken care of after a long day, you heard a knock at the door. You cringed at the noise, you felt as if you were hung over almost, in reality really you were just super Jet lagged (the day before coming here you binged watched a TV show in one night, packed just hours before leaving to the airport and ditched sleep all together before and during the plane ride...stOpid) You stumbled around the unknown apartment with the lights off towards the door; it was not that late at night but who would be looking for you right now.

When you looked through the peephole you recognized them immediately; their hair was now a little longer from the last time you saw them, they had different earrings decorating their ears, they seemed different, still super attractive, but that smile did not change at all, it was still that adorable bunny smile that seemed melt your heart every time.

You quickly typed the alarm code, unlocked the multiple locks on the door and swung it open, revealing a nervous Jungkook, you had hung out with him and the guys less than an hour ago, but now he was nervous… (he was scared you changed your mind about him after almost a year from meeting and seeing each other in person, he was scared that he was not you celebrity crush anymore, he was scared that the real feelings he had developed form all your daily video calls, texts, random phone calls were not corresponded, he was scared that you had forgotten about those night at the terrazze, he was scared you had changed after a year).

As he stood frozen you couldn’t wait or control yourself any longer and you flung yourself towards him; you hugged him as tight as your body could (during all the time you hung out today you never once had a moment just the two of you alone) but as you leaped and wrapped your hands around him you started thinking about him and how he could be feeling right now and couldn't help but feel a little insecure, (what if he had come all the way back here to tell you whatever happened a year ago in New York at that terrazze was a mistake, that all the calls and texts were just friendly exchanges, what if he came to tell you you were better off as friends or worse.. better of as colleagues…)

It took Jungkook a split second to respond to your hug, you loosened your grip as those thoughts had sworn in your head, and after realizing Jungkook was not hugging you back, so you prepared yourself to get your heart broken… but that all went away as Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, he lifted you a little off the ground as you rewrapped your arms around him, hiding your your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled his scent as he held you even tighter against him. He rocked your bodies lightly as you held each other in front of your door.

After, you loosened the hold on each other, but didn’t let go, you looked into those beautiful dark brown eyes you had missed and had prayed to see in person one more time after all this time; He lifted his hands from around you and cupped your face, lightly stroking your cheeks back and forth with his thumbs. “hi” you said, just like that one time in that New York terrazze, “hi” he responded with an adoring smile as his eyes traveled through your face, looking at your every detail, he didn’t want to miss anything, h was so glad to finally see your face in person instead of on a 2-D cellphone screen.

As you two stood outside looking at each other you suddenly shivered a little from a cold air breeze that swooped by, it was pretty chilly outside compared to your comfy apartment’s room temperature, it was almost winter; you gently took your arms from his neck and wrapped them around you to warm you up. You had answered the door barefoot, in your pajama shorts and oversized flowy t-shirt without thinking twice. But you then realized Jungkook was wearing a short sleeve oversized shirt too, it was pretty chilly outside and he came all the back to your apartment not wearing a hoodie or jacket.

“Omg Jungkook it's cold outside why wouldn’t you wear a jacket, jeez” you said as you pulled on his arm leading him inside the apartment to keep him from the cold. “Actually I came back here to get my hoodie back,” Jungkook said. A small “Oh…” escaped your lips as you switched on the light illuminating the once dark room “I see” you again said, almost whispering, avoiding his look as you walked deeper into the room to look for the missing hoodie. You felt disappointed almost, ‘he came back for his hoodie duh, why would he have bothered coming back to ONLY see you’ you though as you looked in the living room, you didn't see the hoodie there so you then went to the small dining room next to the kitchen to see if it could be there, ‘maybe he took it off before we all sat and ate the take out dinner for dinner’. You spotted the black fabric neatly sung over the seats’s back where JK sat earlier.

Jungkook took off his shoes and tried to catch up with you before you could take the hoodie off the seat and after seeing your reaction to what he had just said; yes he actually did leave his hoodie by accident, but that wasn’t the reason why he came all the way back, so when he saw how your face dropped and heard that reply of yours, it gave him the courage to say why he came back.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before saying “Um, y/n, actually, ‘me forgetting my hoodie’ was just an excuse to come back here and see you again” he swallowed and looked down at his feet. “I don’t really care about the hoodie, I wanted to come here and see what would happen; if you would be excited to see me alone, if you would be glad or happy it was me at the door, you have no idea how bad I wanted to be the first and only one to hold you as you got of the plane, how badly I wanted to run towards you, picking you up and not let go, how bad I wanted to spend the day just the two of us and just- um *clears throat again*” he fiddled with his fingers, he was so nervous to admit that outlawed he didn't even notice you turning back to look at him as he confessed. You found his actions to be so adorable and cute.

You giggled and stood in front of him, once you were closer you carefully took his fiddling hands in your left hand and used your right hand to lift his face up to look at you. “Thank you, you made me really happy by coming here to see me, I missed you so much too and couldn’t wait to hang out with you again, I only wished for an opportunity where only the two of us could hang out, but you took the courage to come all the way back here, thank you” you responded to him and his actions with a warm and loving smile that made Jungkook’s legs feel like giving out and heart feel as it could explode.

He again observed your face now under a brighter light, he couldn’t believe how your face could look so, or more, beautiful then you face with the light makeup you wore just hours ago. You broke eye contact and spoke, “So um do you have to leave anytime soon?” as you looked anywhere but his face. Your tired eyes and shy tone warmed his heart even more “No, I don’t….. why?” he lowered his face, closing a big gap of space in front of you, forcing you to stop avoiding eye contact and look at him again.

“Well um I was thinking we could hang out again tonight. I could make some…. *you yawn* popcorn and watch a movie, or I could make some coffee and we could talk, or…..” you wanted to keep going but you felt another yawn coming so you stopped talking to fight it off. Jungkook chuckled at your adorable yawns. He took the hoodie he had forgotten in the first place form the chair behind you and put it over your head.

“Y/n you are tired, I think it’s best if you rest and tomorrow we could find a way to hang out again just the two of us…” he said as he fixed the hoodie around you, but you cut him off, “Please don’t leave, I haven’t seen you in a year Jeon Jungkook.” you realized how needy and clingy you sounded, but you actually did want to hang out with him.

You rubbed your tired eye, fixed the hair around your face (your hair was inside the hoodie but some baby hairs tickled your face) and looked back at him, his eyes were wide and surprised at your reaction to him leaving, “I’m sorry, it’s okay, I get it. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t feel like doing, it’s okay...guess i will see you tomorrow then” you said as you tried to hide the sad look off your face and smile at him.

He was moved, the fact that you didn’t want him to leave meant so much to him, he took you face in his hands and kissed your forehead softly, he then kissed the end your your nose he then kissed the space next to your lips, he didn’t want to kiss you and make you feel uncomfortable or taken advantage of; but you being you, immediately spoke as he kissed the side of your lips ``aye that is not my lips...what a tease” in a sleepy tone. He chuckled as he opened his eyes and looked at you. You had your eyes closed, head slightly looking upwards and a smart smile, as you found your own reaction funny.

He chuckled and blurted out: “cute..”. You opened your eyes to clap back, but before you could even open your mouth and say something back he leaned in again, shuting you up real quick…. but he leaned slowly…..very slowly…..v eee r y slowly…...SUPER SLOWLY, he was taking his dear time, he now discovered he liked teasing you like this. You got impatient and just closed the space between you for him, giving him a short peck before pulling away. This was the first kiss you have had after a year; you walked around him to tease him back for teasing you in the first place. He stopped you by placing his arm around your waist, “Are you expecting me to accept ‘that’ as our first kiss after being apart for a year…” he said.

“Oh, so I’m not a good kisser? Was that not good enough.. okay… I guess I-'' you played the victim but were quickly cut short by Jungkook pulling the hoodie on you towards him and stealing a kiss from you.

You smiled against his lips at his neediness, but kissed him back as you placed your hands on the back of his head, sliding your fingers through his hair. He slid his hands under your hoodie and placed them on your bare waist, and pulling you even closer. You kissed each other slowly, taking in every detail about the kiss, not wanting to miss a thing; as things heated up you picked up the pace, the sweet kiss turning hungry and deeper. He moved his hands from your waist downwards and your once delicate fingers playing through his hair suddenly pulled softly making him groan against your lips; he squeezed his hands behind you making you whimper against his lips, he used this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss even more; he had lifted his hands and placed back on your sides as he softly caressed your skin under the hoodie, you wanted to to that too; so you slid your hands from the back of his head, down to his chest and too, under his shirt, you could feel his abs tense as your cold fingers lightly brushed against his skin, continuing to slide your hands around his torso, and gently running your fingers on his skin. That action made his breath hitch at his throat and his heart skip a beat.

The two of you kissed passionately taking the other deeper, not wanting to let go. After a while you both slowly pulled away, breathlessly and numb from the kiss, you both wanted to go further but knew it was not time yet. You rested your foreheads together as you catched your breaths, looking adoringly to the other person, swollen lips, rosy cheeks and curious eyes.

He spoke first, as he used his finger to soothe the skin under your eyes, “You need to rest y/n, come on”, pulling your arm and leading you. You thought that meant he was leaving, but this time you didn't fight him back; but instead of leading you towards the door he lead you to the big fancy couch in the living room, he turned on the TV to a random Korean variety show and lowered the volume to the point were if there isn’t absolute silence you couldn’t hear a thing the TV was playing.

You both sat on the deep couch, he lent you his arm behind your head as a pillow as you sat closely next to him, the silent TV and warmness coming from the handsome man next to you quickly started to drowse off. Jungkook planned to keep you company until you fell asleep and then leave you to rest comfortably.

JK watched the screen as he waited for you to fall asleep. Once he could feel your breathing rhythm became deeper indicating you officially had given in to sleep, he looked down to you and smiled at how adorable you looked, he stared at you for a little longer as he reflected on how lucky he was his once celebrity crush now actual crush was so close to him; he was so glad to have such an amazing person in his life and prayed he never had to be without you in his life ever again; he badly wished he could have you as his and only his but he understood the circumstances, he was happy he could athletes share precious moments like this with you.

Jungkook shifted in his seat as he was about to stand up to leave you the full couch to rest, but you turned towards him, and wrapped your arms around him. “Don’t…” you whispered against his shirt, you were asleep but your sleepy conscience managed to say that. Jungkook couldn’t resist, he planted a soft kiss on the top of your hair, he then pulled you back with him from a sitting position to a horizontal one as he laid his back on the couch taking you with him without waking you up. He too quickly gave in to sleep as he held each other.

---------

a/n: I'M SO SORRY for taking so long to update, I had writer’s block and had no idea how to pick up the story, but last night I got inspired hahaha. I re-wrote this part and started writing part 6&7 so wait for those too.

THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT, ILY :3 Xx

PART 6 ------> here

> NEXT PARTS WILL BE BETTER I SWEAR <3

#jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #kookie #bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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desertno3 · 4 years

Text

everything comes back to you (sean wallace x fem!reader)

Sean Wallace is the love of your life and had been ever since you were both sixteen. This is why, in the aftermath of his father’s murder, you do everything you can to make sure no one lays a hand him.

5.4k words.

A/N: To think this all came from me watching this scene of Joe from Volume (2012) and thought… I need to write about bb Sean. There’s also this post which is mostly what was in my head when I wrote this. Also, I was going to say Sean being soft around the people he loves is my own personal headcanon but like… it is actual canon, lmao. It’s so easy to forget because the man is cold most of the time. Anyway, I clearly have too many thoughts about this character. Enjoy. (also formatting on tumblr is shit so if you want to read this with the formatting I intended, head over here to AO3)

prologue.

“What the hell are you up to?” Sean demands as he watches you bustle around your shared bedroom, effectively turning it upside down as you stuff your belongings into a travel bag.

“Business,” You say, hardly pausing to look at him.

“Business?” He scoffs like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame him. Finn died mere days ago and every day since then you’d been acting strange. Between consoling Sean and helping the Wallace family with the funeral arrangements, you’d been answering calls at random hours of the day and going off to meetings even though nearly all business operations under the Wallace Corporation had been halted. Sean had been too caught up in everything to question it but now that you’d just told him that you were flying off to god knows where for alleged business, he was suspicious.

“You know something, don’t you?”

You don’t reply.

“Tell me.”

When you remain silent, you see his jaw clench in anger but that’s not what makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. What gets to you is the hurt you can see in his eyes, hurt that his fiancé of all people is keeping things from him. You know it’s unfair to be doing this to him right now but you had no choice.

You walk up to him, taking his face in your hands.

“You just have to trust me on this, Sean,” You say softly. “Please.”

“I can’t trust anyone right now, y/n.” He says it like a plea. He needs you to be the one person he can trust one hundred percent, wants to be able to put you apart from the rest of the world who seemingly had it out for his family right now. He can’t do that when you’re acting like this.

The statement doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. You understand where he’s coming from, understand why he can’t even trust you, but still, you wish he did.

“You can always trust me,” You tell him but you know it won’t be enough. That’s confirmed when his gaze goes steely and he pries your hands from his cheeks.

“If you step out that door, don’t bother coming home.”

You step back like you’d been burned by the ultimatum. “Sean, don’t-”

He shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

_________________________________________________

one.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” You huff, falling back onto Sean’s bed and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. You’re sixteen and in the throes of teen angst, irritated by the confines of your parents’ demands regarding what you currently could and couldn’t do at that age.

“Yeah, I know,” Sean replies in solidarity from where he stands near the window.

You let out a sigh, the anger that was bubbling in your chest starting to dissipate now that you’d finished venting about it.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Sean has moved from his spot across the room to the bed beside you. The mattress dips a little as he sits and slowly lies back so he’s parallel to you.

You move your hands away from your eyes and your heart jolts when you crane your neck to look at him and realise how close he is.

“Thanks for listening to my ranting,” You murmur, starting to feel guilty that you’d come over to hang out only for it to end up being just him listening to your tirade.

He lets out a small chuckle. “Anytime.”

You smile gratefully, your heart rate accelerating as you continue to stare into his eyes. God, you like him so much. You have for a while now. As he inches closer, and you don’t know whether it’s deliberate on his part or not, you wonder what it would be like if you just kissed him right there.

“Y/n…” He says hesitantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second. “Can I-”

“Ooooh, Sean and y/n,” Billy sing-songs obnoxiously from the doorway - the doorway that both you and Sean had forgotten was wide open.

Sean leaps up from the bed and growls at his brother, who continues to tease him unfazed.

“Fuck off, Billy!”

He slams the door shut and everything descends into silence once more. You sit up and watch as Sean remains at the door, his shoulders tense. You get up and make your way over to him, feeling bolder than you ever have in your life.

“Sean,” You say softly, grabbing his attention.

He turns to you, the look in his eyes hesitant, and you use that opportunity to press your lips to his. You pull away just as quickly, gauging his reaction, but then he pulls you towards him again and this time the kiss is deeper, needier. Your hands steady yourself against his chest as his own move up to cup your jaw.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, sporting matching shy smiles as you look at each other.

“I really like you, y/n,” Sean confesses and your heart feels like it could burst.

“I really like you, too, Sean.”

When you and Sean get accepted into different universities, it worries you more than you let on. It would be the furthest away you’d ever lived from him and you were worried about what that meant for you both. You’d spent your last years of high school falling deeper and deeper in love with him and you weren’t ready to let him go. Not now, not ever.

“Hey,” He murmurs, noticing you’d spaced out again. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug it off but he’s not buying it. He shifts on the couch so that he’s sitting facing you and takes your hands in his.

"Talk to me.”

You end up telling him everything. How you don’t like that you’re not going to be able to see him as often as you do now, how you’re worried that the distance might put a strain on the relationship, how you really, really don’t like the idea of breaking up with him.

You half expect him to brush it off or to tell you that you’ve got nothing to worry about but he doesn’t.

“I don’t like it either,” He admits. “It’s going to be awful being so far away from you but it’s only a couple of years, yeah? We can do that. And then I’ll start working for my dad and you’ll start working for some cool startup and we can move into a flat in London. You and me.”

While your boyfriend’s vision of your future together warms your heart, you’re still hung up on the ‘couple of years’ you were going to be a good distance from each other.

“Babe,” He says, bringing your attention back to him. “We’re going to be okay.”

You nod, finally relenting and agreeing with him. There was no point in letting yourself get eaten alive with worry, not when he clearly loved you just as much as you loved him. It was going to be okay.

“I love you,” You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I love you too.”

Sean’s vision of the future wasn’t too far off. You manage to secure a flat just before you both graduate and by the end of the summer, you’d moved in. Sean starts working immediately alongside Alex at the Wallace Corporation and you spend about eight months working for a new tech startup on the other side of London before Finn Wallace offers you a job. It goes over with Sean just as well as you expected it would - which was not well at all.

“Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked hard for? To be my dad’s fucking assistant?”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’m not throwing away anything, Sean! Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m going to use more of what I learned at uni as Finn’s assistant than I am now at that fucking sad excuse for startup and you know it!”

Sean knows you’re miserable where you currently work so you don’t know why he’s so against this.

“You don’t want me working with you, is that it?”

He sighs, palms pressing against his eyelids in frustration.

“No,” He says eventually. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t want my dad having a hold on the both of us. You’re supposed to be free from all the Wallace Corporation shit, out doing your own thing.”

Oh.

You step towards him and he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist. You press a light kiss to his lips, your fingers ghosting over the facial hair he had recently started sporting.

“Sorry to tell you this, Sean, but your dad’s had a hold on the both of us the moment we started dating. Maybe even before that. I’m sure if he didn’t approve of me, I would’ve been out of your life a long time ago.”

Sean grumbles at the realisation but he knows it's true.

You lovingly run your thumb over his cheek. "Nothing in London is out of Finn Wallace's reach."

You’re not a fool. You know Finn offered you this job for a very specific reason. If you were going to continue being with Sean, and at this point, everyone knew that was absolutely going to be the case, you were going to have to know how the company worked. And you weren’t against it. If Sean was to be the CEO one day, you refused to be the kind of wife who was oblivious to their husband’s dealings.

Gone is the youthful innocence of the lanky boy you fell in love with when you were sixteen. Sean is filled out and a lot more serious, trying to be more than what he is for his father’s sake. You suppose you're the same, too. It's not easy, being primed to eventually take over a multi-million dollar organisation (connected to an insidious underground one to boot) and Finn put just as much pressure on you as he did his son.

“It’s not my blood,” You mumble when Sean walks into the bathroom to find you soaking in the tub, the water around you a deep red. “Mostly.”

Wordlessly, he comes over and drains it before filling it back up with fresh water. You don’t move as he does so, still shaken and borderline catatonic from having just killed somebody for the first time. Sean doesn’t have to ask, he can just tell that’s what you’ve come back from. As he silently washes the blood from your skin, you look over to see his lips set in a tight line. You know he’s mad. Not at you. At his father, maybe. But there’s nothing he can do now. There’s no going back from this.

Everyone thinks you’re the power couple of the Wallace Corporation, steely and unfeeling, and you suppose in many ways you are but you also know that in other ways, you’re still the teenagers you were before, still completely and utterly smitten with one another.

“Hey,” Sean greets you, kissing your cheek before pulling out a chair and sitting beside you in the empty boardroom.

You look at him in surprise as he starts digging into some pre-packaged salad. “Hi. What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d have lunch with you.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“The meeting ran overtime.”

You give him a sympathetic look and he rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him and let him tuck you under one arm while he forked salad into his mouth with the other.

“What have you been up to, hm?”

You let out an exhale, resting your head against his shoulder. “Meetings, same as you.”

You’re interrupted when Alex pops his head in with an apologetic look on his face, knowing he was disrupting a rare moment between you and Sean. Usually, the both of you would be so busy you’d only see each other in passing at work.

“Finn’s looking for you, y/n,” He tells you before disappearing again.

You sigh, getting up but not before kissing Sean on the cheek.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“Mm, see you.” He mumbles, swallowing his mouthful of salad before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. “Wait, give me a proper kiss.”

You smile and comply, laughing when Sean pulls you back in for another and another.

“I have to go, Sean!”

“Alright, alright,” He says, letting you go. “I’ll see you later.”

"What's all this?" Sean asks when he comes home one night to find you in the kitchen looking like you’re in the middle of making a more elaborate dinner than usual.

"Just something to celebrate you finishing up that contract," You say, smiling when his arms circle your waist and his lips press a kiss to your cheek. "I was also thinking now that the contract's done, you've got all the time in the world to fuck me."

You all but squeal when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom without a second thought.

"The food, Sean!"

"The food can wait," He murmurs, dropping you onto the bed. You giggle when he moves to hover above you, his lips brushing against yours. "I've got to take care of my fiancé first."

It’s those memories of your relationship with Sean that flood your mind as you lean against the brick wall of a Soho back alley, the hand pressing against the wound on your side not doing much to stop the blood seeping from your body faster than you would like.

Dread had filled you the moment you heard about Finn’s death and it had less to do with what happened to him and everything to do with the man you were engaged to, the one who was set to take over the company in his father’s wake. Despite Sean being the clear successor to the business, you knew Finn’s death would still leave a power vacuum in both London’s corporate and criminal worlds. You knew people would be out for Sean, trying to off him so that they could step up and take Finn’s place. And so, since the day Finn had died, you’d done everything you could to ensure Sean wouldn’t be harmed. Even after Sean’s heartbreaking ultimatum, you’d left and had been all over the country and London trying to stop the people that needed to be stopped. This last job you’d just carried out would have been it. It would have sealed the deal and would have kept Sean safe for good. Too bad you were probably going to die because of it.

You wince as your back slides further down the wall, your legs giving out and leaving you to drop unceremoniously onto the concrete. Each inhale felt like a billion knives entering your side and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

It was worth it, you think to yourself. It’s the last thought you have before your eyelids get too heavy to keep open, Sean’s last words to you echoing back in your mind. It may have cost you your life but was worth it if it meant you’d just ensured Sean would keep his for a long while.

_________________________________________________

two.

Despite the number of people crammed into your hospital room, the only sound to be heard is the steady beeping of the machines that had been attached to you. It had been a hell of a night for all of them and one that wasn’t over yet. Jacqueline’s frantic call to Sean about seeing you get wheeled into emergency surgery had cut short the tense discussion the Wallaces and Dumanis were having around the dining table. Sean had all but sped to the hospital, everyone else trailing behind him. Despite everything that had just been revealed to him that night, it all became secondary in comparison to the fact that Jacqueline had told him you were practically dying.

Everyone but Sean looks up when Ed steps back into the room, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“That was Jevan,” Ed announces to all of them. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Marian asks, the tone in her voice still bitter. It’s a wonder neither she nor Sean have kicked the Dumanis out of the room but it was because there was still so much to be discussed - especially now that you were back in the picture and what happened to you remained unclear.

“The investors now want to keep Sean alive.”

A silence settles over the room at Ed’s revelation. It was mere hours ago that Alex had revealed it was the investors who wanted Sean dead.

“She knew,” Sean mutters, finally speaking up. His eyes raking over your nearly-lifeless face as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed and his mind thinks back to the last conversation he had with you. Business, you had told him then. Now, he had no doubt you had something to do with the investors’ most recent decision. “She knew they wanted me dead.”

“How?” It’s Alex who asks, vocalising the same thought Sean had been turning over and over in his mind. “How did she know where to find them? Who to talk to?”

No one has an answer. The machines beep steadily, filling in the silence until Ed sighs, a realisation dawning on him.

“Finn,” He states like that alone makes the answer clear. “She would’ve known through Finn. Think about it. When she was his assistant, he made her go with him to nearly every meeting he had.”

Everyone in the room was aware of the latter, of course. It was part of your job. It had even been a point of contention between Sean and his father at one point, why you were let in on meetings that he should’ve been in on too if he was going to take over the company one day. "She’s just there to make the coffee, son," Finn had laughed but that wasn’t true in the slightest. You were the one who took down the minutes, noted down anything of importance, kept tabs on any and all of Finn’s dealings with everybody. That was your job and through it, you ended up knowing more about the business than anyone else and you didn’t even realise it. You didn’t realise just how much you knew, how much knowledge you could use as leverage, as blackmail, until Sean’s life was on the line.

After Finn died, you did wonder whether he knew what he was setting you up for when he hired you, wondered if he always knew Sean would eventually need protecting and knew that you would do it without hesitation if you had the capability to do so.

It’s Ed, here in the hospital room, who comes to the realisation that he absolutely did.

“She knows more about Finn’s dealings with the investors than all of us in this room combined,” He continues. “Because he never actually needed her to be his assistant. He needed her to be someone who would know how to talk to them. To protect the company and its successor from them if need be.”

“Successor?” Marian asks. “You mean Sean?”

Ed nods and everyone jumps as Sean suddenly throws his fist against the bedside table in anger before whirling on the older man.

“You knew about this,” He seethes. “You knew he was doing this and you just let it happen.”

“I didn’t know this was his reasoning behind it, Sean, I promise you. But it makes sense. As his son, protecting you was a priority. Through her, Finn made sure you’d be kept safe.”

"Fuck that.” Sean spits in anger. “Fuck that. She's a priority too. You hear me? She needs to be kept safe too because if she's not alive I may as well be fucking dead."

_________________________________________________

three.

“I should’ve fucking realised that’s what she was up to. I should’ve fucking known,” Sean mutters as he looks at you, still lying there unconscious. “She risked everything for me.”

“Are you surprised?” Marian asks him. It’s just the two of them in the room now.

She, for one, isn’t surprised in the slightest. Having known you most of your life, she knew you had it in you. Maybe Finn saw that too, since it was what he ended up priming you for.

Sean sighs. He’s not surprised either. What he mostly feels is anger - at his late father for putting you in that position to begin with - and shame. He’s ashamed that while you were bending over backwards to try and keep him alive, he was doing fuck all for you. He'd even broken your fucking heart in the process. He’d regretted it the second you’d left the flat but he couldn’t get into contact with you afterwards. Either you’d changed your number or you weren’t answering his calls. He’d even hired a fucking private investigator to find out where you’d gone and what you were up to but they hadn’t come back with anything solid enough that could lead him to you. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

"She paid you off,” Sean says bluntly the moment the PI enters the hospital room. It’s not a question. After everything that had surfaced in the last twenty-four hours, it clicked into Sean’s mind the reason the private investigator couldn’t find anything on you.

"She did,” They confirm.

Sean swears under his breath. He curses that fact that you were too good at this and curses the fact that it was probably Finn that taught you how, the same way Finn taught him. He should’ve fought harder to stop you from accepting his dad’s job offer. All those years ago.

“She paid me off,” The PI says. "But that doesn’t mean I didn't do my job."

Sean is handed a folder full of notes on your movements and a flash drive full of photos they’d snapped from a distance.

"You are a very lucky man, Sean Wallace. To have someone like her in your life."

_________________________________________________

four.

To say you’re surprised when you open your eyes to a sterile hospital room is an understatement. You were so sure you had no chance of getting out of that alley alive. Still groggy, you briefly wonder if it was the investors who managed to get you here in time - the strange puppet masters that they were - but your train of thought is halted when you realise Sean’s sister is in the room with you, sitting beside your hospital bed.

“About time you woke up,” Jacqueline says softly, a kind smile on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Her question brings your attention to the relentless ache you feel all over your body.

“Like shit.”

She hums. “Well, you’re lucky you aren’t dead. You gave us all a scare getting wheeled in here the way you did.”

You shift a little, trying to get yourself in a position that would ease the pain somewhat. “How’s Sean?”

Jacqueline has to stop herself from rolling her eyes because of course that’s what’s on your mind right now. You coming back from the verge of death asking about Sean ran in a similar vein to the way Sean had been adamant about not leaving the hospital since you’d been admitted. Like two peas in a pod, she thinks. Always have been.

“He’s just out in the hall, actually,” She informs you. “On the phone to mum. He’s not going to be pleased he wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“But he’s okay?” You ask her.

“He’s okay.”

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, your head sinking further into the pillow.

“Good,” You say, shutting your eyes in relief. “That’s good.”

Only a few seconds pass before you hear the door open and shut and a heart-achingly familiar voice break the silence.

“How is she?”

Again, Jacqueline has to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Her brother would always ask that same question every time he returned to the room, no matter if he was gone for an hour or for just a couple of minutes. At least this time, she was glad to give him an answer other than ‘she’s the same as she was when you left’.

“She’s awake.”

Your eyelids flutter open and your heart jumps when your gaze lands on Sean.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Jacqueline smiles when she looks between her brother and yourself. She comes over and rests her hand on yours. “I’m really glad you’re alive, y/n.”

You give her a grateful smile and watch her leave before your eyes flicker back to the man standing at the door. He looks healthy, you note to yourself. Exhausted, but healthy.

“Sean,” You whisper, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” He says softly, approaching your bedside. You slowly sit up and tears start to pool in your eyes at the sight of him here, so close to you. Safe and alive. He notices and reaches out to wipe away the stray tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” He murmurs and you have to hold back a sob.

"I did it for you, Sean," You can barely get the sentence out, your voice catching as you start to get choked up by emotion. "Everything I did-"

"I know," He says, cupping your face tenderly. His eyes are glassy too. "I know."

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. I couldn’t-”

You stop as your tears start to flow uncontrollably. You’d kept so much of your emotions at bay as you dealt with everything and now that it was all done, they were spilling over in waves. He gently pulls you into his embrace as you cry, mindful of your injuries. One hand strokes your hair comfortingly as you cling to him, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears. You keep muttering apologies into his chest and he has to tell you to stop because you have nothing to be sorry for. He should be the one apologising, he thinks. No matter what he does for you for the rest of his life nothing would come close enough in magnitude to what you’d just done for him.

You sniffle as your sobs finally start to subside but you don’t let go of him just yet.

“I want to come home, Sean,” You say quietly, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

“You are home,” He assures you, his arms affectionately squeezing you ever so slightly. "You're here with me. You're already home."

_________________________________________________

epilogue.

Sean barely leaves your side while you recover - not for business, not for anything.

“The company needs you, Sean.”

He shakes his head. “Alex has it covered. You need me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Believe me, I know. But still. In sickness and in health, right?”

You snort. “We’re not married yet.”

His arms wrap around your waist.

“But we will be,” He murmurs. “I would’ve married you a long time ago if I had it my way.”

“My mother would’ve murdered you.”

Sean chuckles, all too aware of it.

It was about a year and a half into your university lives that Sean decided he genuinely wanted to marry you and, of course, he had run it by your mother.

“I’ll give you my blessing, Sean,” She had told him. “But only if you promise me you’ll give it a few years until you propose.”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” She said after Sean had frowned and asked her why. “I know you love her and I know she loves you but there’s no need to rush.”

Sean had agreed reluctantly but now, years later, he understands where she was coming from. At the time, he had naively been sure there was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle. You’d both handled being at different universities so well, after all. Now, he cringes at the fact that that was his metric but he figures he couldn’t blame himself. At that age, he definitely never anticipated having to deal with all the shit life had thrown at you both in the last few months alone. He’s somewhat grateful your mum told him to wait because now, after everything, he’s more sure than he ever was about the fact that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

You’re finally back home, in your own bed, lying on your back because it’s the only comfortable way you can lay down with all your stitches and injuries yet to fully heal. You turn your head to look at Sean and you smile. He’s on his back as well, the both of you craning your necks awkwardly to look at each other.

“What?” He asks.

“This is very familiar.”

He snorts, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you.

“At least this time I’m not scared to do this.”

Your eyelids flutter close as he leans down to press his lips to yours. You reciprocate, leaning up to deepen the kiss before pain shoots up your side, making you hiss.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, pulling away.

“It’s fine, just the stitches.”

His thumb grazes over your cheek. “Rest.”

He smiles at the way you huff. You never did like staying still.

You let out a content sigh, sinking back in your office chair. It had felt like a lifetime since you’d been in here and finally being back felt like you were putting in the final piece in the puzzle. It was the last thing you needed to feel like everything was starting to go back to normal.

A knock on the door grabs your attention, Sean popping in to check on you. “You ready?”

You nod, gingerly getting up and following him to the boardroom for the family meeting.

“So you know Alex and I have been talking,” Sean says to you once everyone had filed in and taken their seats. “About what will be best for the business going forward.”

You nod.

“Things have settled down and we’ve managed to broker temporary agreements with everyone to keep them in line. However, we need to guarantee they won’t act out in the future. So we need someone heading the company who they will listen to, someone who they trust. Alex wants to continue doing the finances and I’m better off sticking to making the buildings so… we were wondering if you would be the CEO.”

Your expression goes slack in shock. “What?”

“We’ve run it by Ed and mum and they agree, too. You’re our best bet.”

You look between everyone in the room, bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you know more about dealing with the investors and shareholders than any of us,” Alex says. “You saw first-hand how Finn did his business with them, something me and Sean rarely did. And they not only know you personally but they trust you, too.”

“Y/n,” Ed pipes up. “Whether he did it deliberately or not, Finn taught you everything he knew about the most important part of running this corporation. Alex knows finance and sales, Sean knows property and asset management but you? He specifically taught you how to bargain. And bargaining and making deals is part of what keeps the Wallace Corporation on top.”

“All our shareholders, the investors, they’ll be okay with this?” You ask.

Ed gives you a look, “You tell us.”

The weight of the responsibility hits you in full force but you’re surprised when you don’t feel scared. You feel sure. They were all right, you’d been doing this already.

You nod. “They will be.”

And it’s not a threat so much as it’s just pure confidence on your part. You knew their strengths, their weaknesses, you knew you would be able to keep them in line with your words, either finding mutual ground or using certain things as leverage to get what the company needed. You could bargain with them the same way you’d bargained for Sean’s life. You could do this.

You meet Sean’s eyes across the boardroom table and he smiles at you, pride blooming in his chest at the thought of his girl, the one he had fallen head-over-heels for at sixteen, being the CEO of his dad’s company. You smile in return. God, you loved him. Your entire world, your whole heart, belonged to him. And his to you. It always had been, and it always would be.

_________________________________________________

End notes: The first kiss setting in one. I took straight from Volume, lol, and then two. is set after that meeting scene at the end of Episode 7 of Gangs but I’ve taken some liberties with that meeting and diverged from canon right before Ed tells them Finn never wanted Sean near the business because Sean’s reaction to that hurts my heart. So that’s not a thing in my fic world. Anyway! Too many thoughts about this show. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic!

#sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfiction #*writing #sean wallace #gangs of london #sean wallace fic #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london fic #sean wallace fanfic

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