#he looks so surprised but sounds almost happy. and that makes me so ill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noacfapologyst · 2 months

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birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #1975 band #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #matty35 #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x oc #birthday matty #i might cry

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littlest-world · 2 months

Text

At the Side of a Titan

Our First Conversation

The titans are great beasts that no man in his right mind would trust. It is fortunate then that I did not belong to that category, for you see, I have discovered life at the side of such a powerful being to be much simpler than it is within the confines of human civilization. Gone are the worries of food and shelter - a single crumb of the titan's meal could feed me for days, and no soul dare approach such a terrifying figure. At the same time, it is difficult to be so completely stripped of any sort of society. While it seemed otherwise at first, the lack of social exchanges began to weigh on me a few moons after I joined the titan's wandering across the land.

I had not one person to speak with - not even the titan, who made himself clear about the matter. They only tolerate my presence due to my insignificance, but would leave me at the first human settlement we encounter were I to cause any disturbance to them. It is for this reason that I dare not to speak much.

The titan himself seemed to be content with silence. In all the time I have traveled with the titan I have heard them say fewer than a dozen different words, and not once have I heard them speak a full sentence. I would like to think that it is understandable then that I had jumped when the titan chose to initiate a conversation with me for the very first time while we hid from a storm in a large cavern.

"Bothered?"

"E-excuse me?" worry tinted my voice, in spite of me not having anything to worry about.

"You sighed."

"Oh- did I? I apologize!" I feared the titan to be angry - perhaps he thought the sigh to be an expression of frustration, "the rain had simply saddened me, but I am perfectly well!"

"Why?"

The titan sat down in a motion that caused the bolder that I sat on to tremble terribly - almost resulting in my falling to the ground.

"Why?" I repeated, somewhat surprised, "why did the rain sadden me?"

"Yes."

The titan's usage of a word where a simple nod or even a grunt would have sufficed surprised me further, and I attempted to answer carefully.

"We humans are always sadder during the rain," I sensed it might not be enough, and continued before the titan spoke again, "I would not pretend to have a complete answer, but there are a few reasons I am able to think of."

Having paused for a moment to gather my thoughts I noticed the titan's eyes following me with great interest, I did not know what to make of it so I continued speaking - happy at the opportunity for a conversation.

"Rain brings with itself cold and darkness, and these are both things humans tend to avoid - we do not see well in the dark, and the rain constrains our vision further, and the cold is dangerous to us - it weakens and ills us."

The titan hummed in response and looked to the entrance of the cave at the heavy rain. I followed his gaze and we sat in silence for a while.

"You fear us."

I looked up at his face, and was relieved to see it curious instead of angry.

"Well, yes." Attempting to lie of this matter would have been unwise, but that just meant that I needed to tread carefully. "Your great size frightens us as we are all too aware of the harm you are capable of inflicting on us if you so choose."

"And our abilities."

My heart stopped at these words. Everyone knew of the rare powers of the titans, and everyone knew that they never spoke of them with lowly humans. At these moments I feared for my life. Have I spoken too much? Have I irritated the titan greatly enough for them to have decided to rid of me?

Still, I replied, "yes, the abilities scare us most."

The titan - lowering their head - looked away from the rain and inspected me.

"Are you scared of me?"

Yes. Yes, I am terrified.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

My body refused to react as the titan leaned lower - watching me all the while. A strange expression appeared on their face.

"Don't be scared," their voice quiet and gentle as it had never been before, "I won't hurt you."

I found myself unable to move as gigantic hands rushed towards me. In terror and awe I watched the enormous hands as one closed around my bolder, and the other around me. I would have disapproved of this, were it not for the fact that my legs chose that exact moment to buckle. I slowly sat down - using the giant hand as support, and looked up to the titan's face. Fiery-gold eyes met mine, fiery-gold eyes that followed every single one of my movements.

A heavy sigh escaped the titan's mouth, hitting me as a warm gust of wind, "sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.

That caught me unprepared. Did the titan really just apologize for scaring me? Evidently so. As my heart returned to its regular pace I managed to decipher the large being's facial expression as sorrow or perhaps regret. He really did mean his apology. For a single moment I felt a need to apologize to him for having feared him.

"There is no need to apologize," I reassured the sympathetic titan, "the matter has been cleared now," I smiled - both to help assure the titan of my forgiveness, and due to a true easing of a tension that went unnoticed by me until now.

The titan remained still for a few moments - looking me over with those terribly big eyes - before leaning back to watch the weeping heavens once more. I confess that the sight of his hands retracting away from me filled me with relief.

"What do you know about the abilities?"

I would have preferred some other topic of conversation, but with the titan's reassurance and an unhealthy supplement of curiosity I managed to continue the conversation.

"We do not know much," I began, "we only know for certain that these powers exist, and that they are inaccessible to us. All else are guesses. Are these powers tiring to wield, or do they have to be held back at all times? Do all titans possess them, or are there just a select few who are actually able to make use of them? Many of our scholars debated such questions, but to the best of my knowledge none have yet given a complete and satisfactory answer."

When an amused chuckle reverberated throughout the cave I turned to look at the titan.

"You do fear the unknown."

I do not like to admit it, but I felt embarrassment at the titan's reaction - not just for myself, but for all of humanity.

"We have good reason to," I defended, "much too often the unknown turns against us, or is used against us by some other malicious entity."

The titan thought it over shortly before shrugging.

"Fair."

I suspected him not to be entirely sincere - the slight upward curving of his lips might have went unnoticed by a fellow titan, but it clued me in to his still elevated mood. I might have continued arguing, but the titan sighed - and the smile was gone. I took that as an indication that our conversation is over, and reserved to continue watching the heavy rain.

#g/t #gt #giant/tiny #size difference #g/t writing #gt writing

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asongofmarvelanddc · 1 year

Text

Duty PT 5½

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: none!

SUMMARY: Robb's Queen falls ill and he is not quite sure how to handle it.

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: This is kind of short drabble-type chapter setting up the next two! Please send a message, comment, send an ask so i can hear from you! and hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏾 (Part 6 dropping tomorrow night –UK nighttime btw 🤭)

Robb has grown used to your company in recent weeks. He was surprised the first time you came to his study for no reason other than to talk, but he came away from that evening happy to have seen and spoken with you.

Eventually, those nightly visits became more of an expectation. Sometimes you’ll have a conversation over tea and cakes and other nights he’ll share a laugh with you over supper with a belly full of ale. Occasionally you watch him work while doing needlepoint or sewing up his trousers – because he always seems to rip the seams – providing a needed distraction whenever he gets too frustrated with the contents of his letters.

It is routine. One he quite enjoys, which is why when you don’t come to his study tonight, he’s not upset, he’s worried. He thinks to ignore it and continue on with his work, but he struggles to concentrate on any of it when his mind keeps wandering back to you.

He has enough after a few minutes and rises to his feet intending to find you and determine that everything is alright. As he walks around the Great Keep, not a single person he passes can tell him where you are. His casual stroll slowly morphs into a hurried walk as he begins heading towards your chambers. That is when he runs into someone.

Elyse.

He almost doesn’t realise it is her at first, so focused on where he is going that he brushes past her. It is only at the sound of her voice when she stops to curtsey that he recognises who it is. He spins back around as he already passed her a little, cocking his head to the side.

“Elyse,” he breathes as he approaches her slowly, “How are you?”

They have not spoken in some weeks now. It is awkward between them. It has never been awkward. He suspects that she has been avoiding him, but a part of him chooses to believe that only because he has in fact been avoiding her out of guilt.

She looks up at him, a thin yet soft smile on her lips. “I am well,” she says, though her pained eyes tell a different story.

Robb has the urge to pry her for more questions. The only reason he has stayed away from her is because things can never be as they were once. Not if he intends to honour his vows to you.

He doesn’t want her to feel as though he has simply cast her aside and forgotten her. But as soon as he’s about to raise a hand to take hers, he stops himself, remembering why he is here in this corridor in the first place. He is trying to find you.

“Have you seen…?” his voice trails off before he can say your name. He doesn’t know if that would be offensive or unnecessarily hurtful.

But it doesn’t need to be said because she knows who he refers to just by the look in his eyes.

“The Queen is in her chambers. With Maester Luwin.”

That means something is wrong, and though he wants to stay and ease Elyse’s hurt, he does not have the time for it.

“Thank you, Elyse,” he lingers for a moment, knowing there are still many things unsaid between them, before making his way to your chambers.

Just as he arrives at the door, Maester Luwin steps outside, jumping when he sees Robb.

“Your Grace,” he bows as best as he can while shutting the door, " Forgive me, I was not expecting you."

Robb frowns as he glances from the closed door to Maester Luwin, “Has something happened?”

The Maester shakes his head slowly, “Her Grace has fallen ill, but–”

“Why was I not made aware?"

"It was quite sudden," he explains, then places a hand on Robb's shoulder, "But it is nothing serious, you need not worry yourself."

Mester Luwin's voice is comforting, but Robb's heart remains unsettled. You are his responsibility now, and whatever pain befalls you – illness or injury – weighs on him. That is the only reason why he is concerned.

The only reason.

He looks at Maester Luwin and asks, "What ails her?"

Maester Luwin seems unsure of whether to answer at first, but then he lowers his voice and begins to speak, "You are aware that women pass bloods once every moon's turn?"

In fact Robb did not know that it happens every moon's turn. He thought it happened once when a girl becomes a woman. Nevertheless, he nods his head as if he did know before this very moment.

"Is that what this is?"

Maester Luwin nods, “It seems Her Grace passes her moonblood with great difficulty. But her pain and discomfort should fade in the coming days.”

Robb glances at the door yet again, debating whether or not he should go in.

“She is resting now,” Maester Luwin says, practically peering into Robb’s thoughts, “You should look in on her, put your mind at ease.”

His head snaps in the maester’s direction, “My mind is already at ease.” There is a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Maester Luwin bows before taking his leave to return to the rookery.

Alone with his own thoughts, Robb considers returning to his solar to continue working. He knows now that no great harm has befallen you and you will be just fine, but his heart is still unsatisfied. With little hesitation, he twists the handle and pushes the door open.

One week after your wedding, Robb began to notice that his chambers smelled different. It almost annoyed him how quickly the room adopted your scent. It clung to everything, the sheets, the pillows – even Robb's own clothes. But over time, he came to appreciate that earthy, yet sweet smell. It gave him comfort.

That is why the first thing he notices upon entering the room is how different it smells. The aroma of medicine hangs in the air, no doubt from whatever treatment Maester Luwin has provided.

You're lying on the bed when he enters, curled up into a ball. As soon as Robb closes the door, your eyes flutter open, following him as he approaches you wordlessly.

"Your Grace," you begin in the softest voice he's ever heard from your lips, "I would curtsey or sit up, but as you can see, I am in no state for such."

"I wouldn’t ask you to," he smiles as he sits on the bed right beside you. He glances at the cup sitting on your bedside table, "What are you drinking?"

You tilt your head slightly to see what Robb is looking at before returning your gaze to him. "Maester Luwin gave me something for the pain," you say, "I don't remember what is in it."

"You are in pain?"

Robb's concern increases when you nod.

"Where is the pain?" he asks.

"Here."

Robb looks down at where your hand is cradling your stomach. His eyes snap back up to you when he hears you wince, clutching your stomach tighter. He hates to see you in such terrible pain, and it is worse knowing he can do nothing to ease it.

"Will it be like this for you after every moon's turn?"

You shake your head, "Not every time. It was not like this during the last one – that is why you did not know it was happening."

Even after seeing you and speaking with you, Robb's worry does not dissipate. There is still a pit in his stomach. It dawns on him that he is not only concerned because you are his responsibility. He wants you to recover quickly because…well, it is you.

He raises his hands to your face, stopping when he sees the startled look on your face.

"Do you mind?" he asks, hands still hovering over you. He proceeds when you nod.

Gently, he presses his palms against your cheeks. You remain completely still under his touch, your heart racing. After a moment, he moves his hand to your forehead.

"What are you doing?"

He looks down, meeting your eyes which are staring up at him, before pulling back from you, "I'm checking for a fever."

You chuckle lightly, an infectious sound, "I'm not sure fevers are common with my particular ailment."

"It is better to be sure."

You smile softly before closing your eyes, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Robb sits there, listening to your breathing and waiting for you to fall asleep.

After a few minutes, your eyes open again.

"Don't let me keep you, you ought to rest," you whisper, "Your mother has prepared the guest chamber for you."

Robb is taken aback, "The guest chamber? Why should I stay there and not here as always?"

"Because you work from dawn to dusk and I will not have you lacking sleep simply because I am ill. Besides, your mother insisted."

Robb looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. Of course his mother would be the one to insist. But still, he does not want to bring you any further discomfort anyways, so he obliges yours and his mother's wishes.

"I will be sure to look in on you again tomorrow," he promises as he rises to his feet. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he finally says, "Sleep well, Y/N."

***

The next night, Robb is not happy when he finds the tray from your supper untouched. It lies discarded on the floor beside your bed, not even a grain of rice has been moved.

You're asleep when he enters the room, and even when he sits on the bed, you remain still. There is no snoring however, which lets Robb know that you are not sleeping soundly. Your forehead is creased and even in your sleep you're clutching something to your stomach.

This illness seems to have gotten worse, which only serves to make Robb feel more guilty for not coming to see you during the day. He leans down and presses the back of his hand to your clammy forehead, then his palms to your cheeks. Just to be sure again that there is no fever.

You wake while he is in the middle of doing this, momentarily shocked to see him practically on top of you. Robb instantly draws his hands back when he hears your gasp.

"I apologise, I was only checking–"

"Robb," you sigh heavily and slowly pull yourself up into a sitting position, "There is no fever. I have told you, this will pass."

He nods even though his worry remains.

"I'm sorry that I did not come earlier."

You wave a hand and shake your head. "It is quite alright, I completely under–"

You're cut off by an intense and sharp pain in your lower stomach and back that makes you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. Too distracted by the pain, you don't even realise when Robb takes your hand at first, but once his calloused fingers clasp around your hand, you give it a tight squeeze to help the pain pass.

"Are you alright?"

Your eyes open to meet Robb's staring back into them. His brows are drawn together and he is sitting close to you on the bed, both his hands now holding yours.

"Yes," you whisper as you pull your hand out of his grasp, licking your dry lips, "I'm fine."

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he sits back, placing his hands back in his lap. You can see clearly that he is concerned about you, more than you expected him to be – likely because he does not understand what is happening.

In some way, it is comforting to know that he cares.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Robb is not a man who enjoys feeling useless. Even more so in recent years, considering all the tragedy that has befallen his family. And seeing you this way, sickly and vulnerable – the complete opposite of how he’s always seen you – is deeply unsettling.

"Distract me from the pain," you say, offering him the smallest way to make you feel better, "Tell me about your day. What has kept you so occupied?"

He doesn’t know how talking about ledgers and reports would help you, but he does so anyway.

“I spent much of the day preparing for the arrival of some men from the front.”

“Who is coming?”

“Lord Umber is bringing back some of the men we captured,” he sighs, “Our cells down there are too crowded, and some of the men are workers whose surrenders I’ve accepted.”

You raise a skeptical brow, “You trust Lannister soldiers?”

Robb is surprised – and a little amused – that you’re questioning his decision. He’s not sure he minds, however. In fact, he appreciates your taking an interest.

“I don’t,” he chuckles, “But these are men from the Brotherhood Withou–“

He’s cut off when you grab his hand to squeeze as another cramp hits. Instantly he forgets what he was talking about and gently takes both your hands. When the pain passes, you reach over to the side table and take a sip from the cup sitting there.

You notice Robb's inquisitive stare and nod to the cup, "It's the same tea from last night," you mumble, your eyes feeling heavier, "Apparently, it is a weaker dosage of milk of the poppy."

"Milk of the poppy makes you drowsy, no?"

"That explains why I have slept most of the day," you smile weakly.

Robb chuckles and strokes the back of your hand as you lean back and shut your eyes, "I should not have woken you."

"Perhaps not."

"Shall I leave?" he asks.

"No," you answer in a light voice, barely above a whisper, "Stay."

And so he does. He watches over you even after you fall asleep. It is not until your light snores begin to fill the room, a sure sign that you are in a deep slumber, that he decides to leave. He gently places your hand over your stomach and pulls the blankets up to your chest to make sure that you stay warm through the night.

Before he leaves, he can't help but watch you for a moment, listening to your slow breathing. You appear so at peace, and the sight warms his heart. In that moment, he knows that he has let go of any residual resentment he may have had towards you.

"Do feel better soon, my Lady," he whispers, "I long for our evening chats."

Special thanks to these lovely people (and all the new people hiiii!😘 Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):

@witchywrter, @satan2002, @kingniazx, @ria132love @ietss @spn-obession @hotleaf-juice @simonsbluee @shawty-writes-a-little @sarcasm-n-insomnia @harrietbarnesblog @simonsbluee @delicatelyherdreams @tiredstrangerr @xxgarden @davnwillcomee @are-y0u-sirius @dreamy-caramel @iw4milf @jessyballet @greekktragedyy @spid3rgwen @sasuke-deserved-better @lycheecreams @bport76 @itspbjellytime @forever-and-more @holysmokesblog @callmemaeverick @njadakaufey @albeeox @ethereal-concepts @lacontroller1991 @losers-club6 @pulisvertz @universeoflonelystarlight @idkjj04 @cullenswife @oscarisaacsleftknee @fandomarchiveilyd @bekky06 @random-human02 @labellapeaky @alastorhazbin @shawtybaess @larissareadings @johnmurphys-sass @millies0bsimp @bluesongbird @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @cherrywinepoison @vixemi @multitargaryen @gxlden-honey @faatxma @stargaryenx @dumbledorezz @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @vera0124 @sunsetsimpsblog @barnes70stark @hiatuswhore @vyctorya @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @someone658379 @esposadomd

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb x reader #robb stark imagine #got #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #richard madden #got x reader #stark x reader #duty #robb stark fic #richard madden x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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mirrorballhughes · 8 months

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i miss you, im sorry | luke hughes x adelaide hunter

based on the gracie abrams song (kindaish) and also based kinda on tsitp :) this is a drafted story im gonna post to wattpad 👀 but this is when luke is leaving UMich for good, and doesnt say anything to adelaide since the pair broke up. giving you some angst kinda😊 this is my first time writing off hand and not using tv show plots for my storyline so pls lmk if you like it and if u want more !!!

once the game finished, adelaide rushed to the dressing room to congratulate the boys for winning the game. ade stood outside watching the doors slam lightly open, the girl smiled seeing mackie and rutger walk out. the boys didnt looks so happy. “whats with the long faces? you guys killed it today!!!” the blonde girl smiled stopping the boys in their places. the two were whispering to each other ade though she might of heard, “she doesnt know?” “he didnt tell her?” come from the pair. before she could ask mark, ethan and duker came out with the same look on their faces. the rest of the team exited the dressing room. adelaide looked at the team, not seeing that curly hair she still adored. he always stuck out to her. ‘for adelaide, luke is the sun. and when the sun comes out, the stars disappear.'

“wheres luke?” the boys looked around at each other, mark took a step up closer to the girl. “he just left dells. you didnt know? hes leaving for jersey tonight.” the words simply didnt sound real to her. why didnt luke say anything to her before he left? her hand started shaking, the 43 jersey on her back was itchy. she didnt feel real. sure the pair broke up, but the girl always thought it was mutual. they couldnt not just stop being friends, their families being friends they were always connected almost like a single thread of gold tied them together. “how long ago.” the words came out inbetween shaky breaths. “just now. addie you might make it to him.” ethan smiled grabbing the girl’s shoulders in hopes that would make her feel better. “move out of the way!” ade pushed through the group of boys and started running down the corridor. tears were hot and falling from her face.

her footsteps got louder. her ears were ringing, she heard other footsteps behind her knowing the team was following her. this damn jersey was making her so itchy. adelaide wants the best for her boy, but she wished he could’ve said goodbye to her. she was his biggest supporter. even still wearing his jersey to their games. after they broke up, she loved seeing face when he realizes whos jersey she was wearing. it warmed her up inside. but now this jersey was making her ill. she looked up seeing his curly hair, she stopped in her place as she felt like she was gonna be sick. all the blonde wanted to do was say “i miss you. i just want my boy back.” but she knew that couldnt happen.

I MISS YOU

luke had just left the dressing room. he finished saying his goodbyes to his teammates. he was gonna miss playing with his friends, but the NHL was his dream. the curly haired boy kept walking down the corridor saying goodbye to the people walking the other way from him. he couldnt bring himself to say goodbye to his girl scratch that not his girl, but she will always still be his girl. the boy was surprised she showed up wearing his jersey. he thought she wouldve asked mark for his or anyone else on the team. but even when they werent talking she still wore his jersey loud and proud.

loud footsteps approached him. “LUKE!!!” he knew that voice all too well. “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME.” that made him stop in his place. luke shook his head and kept walking. the footsteps followed, adelaides tears fell quicker. he could tell she was crying, he cant give an reaction. he doesnt want to be a dick, but he knows once he turns around hes gonna pull addie in for a hug, pick her up and kiss her. leaving UMich was hard for him just because of her. he missed his girl. luke just wanted addie back with him in his arms, watching some dumb movie as the girl can recite it with like back of her hand. the way she looked in the morning. going out for breakfast. her watching him and the boys practice.

the no contact with each other was unbearable. the lingering tension was crazy. the ex couple both could pounce on each other in any minute and kiss each other so passionately. ade stayed in her place looking at the boy who stood still like time stopped. she wiped her eyes in hopes he would speak. “lu, are you gonna say anything?” her voice broke. luke felt so shitty, but he knows this is for the better. he would stop everything for adelaide hunter but his dream is standing in the way of the two. he wants to leave UMich but if he even looks at the blonde he would just cave in and chase right after her. “ill see you at the lake house el.” and with that luke hughes opened the doors, walked out tears forming in his eyes. he blinked a few times in hopes they would go away.

IM SORRY

“LU.” adelaide chased after him, getting stopped by mark. the taller boy pulled her into his chest, holding her face as he watched the hughes boy walk away from UMich for good. “dells you okay?” he pushed hair out of her face looking down at the girl. “no.” adelaide let go of mark and took that jersey off, leaving her in her blue long sleeve she had on under it. she looked down at the jersey, her fingers ran down the numbers and his name, as tears welled in her eyes. “come on. im sure he will reach out soon.” mark wrapped his arm around his shoulders, walking to where the rest of the group was. “we can see him on the big screen too ade! this is his dream. i knew he meant well.” duker pulled the girl out of marks arm and hugged her. “its gonna work out in the end. just trust me.”

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils #umich hockey #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes fanfic #fanfic #oneshot #nj devils #mark estapa #ethan edwards #dylan duke #luke hughes blurb #adelaide hunter #i miss you im sorry fanfic #joss writes

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short-honey-badger · 11 months

Text

Stuck Between the Gator and the Flamingo

*PREVIOUSLY WARLORDS' ASSISTANT*

Wanted to try my hand at some Crocodile x Reader x Doflamingo. Hope you enjoy it! This is also the fic I've got posted on AO3, but I wanted to share Chapter 1 here since it can be read as a stand-alone. Any comments are welcome! Thanks!

BTW! If anyone is interested in being a beta, let me know! I can always use the help.

Warnings! NSFW, size difference, phone sex.

Masterlist

Come read more on A03! -> HERE

Being the personal assistant to one warlord had been tough for sure, but apparently you've done a good enough job that you were picked to be the assistant to a second warlord. So now, you split your weeks between Sir Crocodile and Donquixote Doflamingo. This week you were with Crocodile, the easier of the two warlords to deal with. Doflamingo was more of a spoilt child than a man. You'd found that out the hard way. Speaking of the man child, the blond would not stop calling your personal den den mushi, and you could tell that the constant ringing was getting on Crocodile's last nerve.

"What is so damn important that the 'Mingo has to call you on my week?" Crocodile snarled and suddenly reached over and grabbed the snail from your limp hands. His sharp teeth almost split his usual cigar.

You watch in shock as the warlord answers the snail call, "Why are you calling her when you know this is my week?" He growled into the receiver. Smoke curled from his mouth as you watched it curl in the low light of his office.

"Fu Fu Fu, Croco you sound jealous. Do you not like it when I bother our pretty assistant?" Doflamingo crooned over the speaker, and you watched Crocodile's face contort in rage. "I'm sure she'd much rather be here in paradise than in your dreary, dusty, desert anyway."

At that moment, you think that Crocodile might break your den den mushi, but the man's expression changed from rage to one of calculation. His golden eyes flick back and forth between you and the speaker before a grin begins to curl along his lips. Crocodile takes the cigar from his mouth and stubs it out, and you feel your stomach drop. This wasn't good.

You let out a startled yelp when the man suddenly snatches his ringed hand out and catches your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his other arm around your waist, keeping you there easily.

"How about we ask her?" The warlord rumbles and sat the receiver down. His hook slipped under your chin, forcing you to gaze up at Crocodile. "Tell us, who would you prefer to stay with, Darling?" He cooed to you, grin matching his namesake.

You blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. This was not how you'd imagined your evening to be going. Sure, both men have been open about their attraction to you, but neither has done anything about it. Until now, apparently.

"I uh. I don't think I should be choosing like this." You say and squirm in Crocodile's lap. You should get off. This isn't appropriate, but the big man just pulls you closer to his chest and tightens his arm. "I'm not worth the two of you arguing anyway."

You are close enough to the den den mushi to see its facial expression, and it doesn't look happy. The arm around your waist clinches hard enough to make you gasp, eyes going wide, and you tense when Doflamingo speaks.

"Don't say things like that, Angel." He says, and you shiver at the dark tone of voice. To your surprise, Crocodile agrees with the bird.

"You are one of the few things Birdbrain and I agree on. Do not speak ill of yourself. You are more than deserving of both of our attention." Crocodile rasps, and you can tell it is an order and not a suggestion.

"Y-yes, Sirs." You say loud enough that Doflamingo can hear. Your face is bright red, and you fight not to squirm anymore in Crocodile's lap.

"Fu fu fu." Doflamingo laughs over the speaker and you can hear him adjust. When he speaks next, his voice is much closer to the speaker, and you can hear the heat and lust that drips from his tone. "Good girl. But maybe she should be warned of her punishment if she doesn't listen to us again, eh, Crocoman."

Crocodile laughs and brings up his hand to thread through your hair, tilting your head back again so he can peer into your glossy eyes.

"Kuhaha ha ha. I think you are onto something, 'Mingo." He rumbles. You gasp when his hook snags your shirt. It tears like butter, sending buttons flying and the remains falling from your shoulders. The sharp point catches your bra as well, sending it flying and leaving your breasts bare to the cool air of Crocodile's office. "Let's give our assistant a preview."

You burn in embarrassment, cheeks flaming and you raise your arms to cover your breasts. You don't know what is going on, why the men suddenly decided today would be the day they would have you. Even if one of them was thousands of miles away.

"How does she look, Crocodile?" Doflamingo demands. Gods. His voice had dropped to a husky whisper full of sin and it sent shivers up and down your spine.

"Delightful." Crocodile says and you flinch when he suddenly pushes your arms down and away to expose you again. Crocodile eyes you like a man starved and you find yourself folding into yourself. You've never received such attention from men like Crocodile or Doflamingo before. It makes you nervous.

"You should see her, 'Mingo." Crocodile continues and without prompt reaches out and pinches your right nipple, causing a sequel to leave your lips. "Perfect tits, flushed and beautiful." He applies just enough pressure to have you gritting your teeth, heat pooling in your gut and your eyes clinching shut. You couldn't watch this.

You hear your other boss groan over the den den mushi, "Do that again. I want to hear our little assistant come undone." He hisses slowly.

Crocodile does so, thick fingers pinching your nipple harshly and enjoying the way you hiss at the motion. He massages the sensitive bud and pulls you closer so that he can place soft kisses on the side of your neck. You can't help the moan that escapes you, skin shivering and hips jerking in the warlord's hold. "St-stop," you whine, hands coming up to curl around Crocodile's wrist in a poor attempt to stop the man.

The men laugh at your pitiful sounds and Crocodile redoubled his efforts by moving on to your other nipple. You keen when he suddenly bites down, eyes flying open to watch the dark-haired man palm your breast. Tears come to your eyes when he pulls away to kiss his bite mark and you can feel his smug grin against your neck.

"Does that feel good, Angel? Having that big hand touch you? Doflamingo purrs over the den den mushi. In his palace on Dressrosa, he sits at his own rarely used desk, pants unbuttoned and cock already hard and leaking. He'd been thinking about you all day and could picture you half naked in his Croco's grip.

You blush even more at his words and bite your lip. It feels fantastic, but you weren't about to admit that. Especially not to two men who have such big egos already. Instead, you shake your head no.

"Kuhaha ha ha." Crocodile grins down at you and shakes his head as if he is disappointed. "Now, now. Don't be like that, Pet. Use your words, tell us how you feel." He crooned and niped your ear.

You shake your head again. "N-no! I don't want this. Any of this!" You deny hotly though your body easily betrays you whenever Crocodile lays his hands on your delicate skin. You ache for these men, thighs shaking and core begging to be filled.

"Fu fu fu. Hear that? I think she is lying to us." The Bird accuses and you feel your blood run cold at the dark tone of his voice. That was never a good thing to hear with Doflamingo.

"I'm not lying, Doffy." You whine lowly and know that you've only dug your grave further when both of them laugh at you again. Clearly, neither of them believe you, and you can't blame them.

Suddenly, you are shifted back and in a swift movement, Crocodile tucks his thighs between your own and shoves your legs open. Your skirt rucks up against your waist, exposing your underwear. You are completely vulnerable in this position and it makes fear and excitement mix inside you.

"Mhm. I think she is 'Mingo." Crocodile rasps and his hand finds your clothed sex. He swipes over the black fabric and your yelp, bucking your hips at the unexpected gesture. You hear your boss inhale deeply and feel his grin. "She wouldn't smell this good, otherwise."

"Crocodile!" You hiss, embarrassed beyond belief that the man would say such a vulgar thing. You grunt when his hook slips under the band of your underwear and the elastic slips, snapping back against your sensitive skin.

"My name next, Angel." Doflamingo crooned and you flush hotly. Everything feels overwhelming and over sensitive. It makes tears come to your ears and you suddenly wish that the other man wasn't thousands of miles away.

Crocodile snakes a hand down your front, rough fingers sending shivers down your back. He finds your clothed sex and strokes the fabric, grinning when he notices the damp spot. He presses down and rubs, humming and bucking his own hips up when you gasp at the sudden pleasure. "Come on, Pet." He says and swipes his fingers again, the friction almost too much against your clothed clit. "Say his name, and I'll give you everything you want."

His thumb presses hard against your clit, turning in a slow, maddening half-circle that has you bowing forward and crying out. Your eyes open again and you watch the hand between your legs with intensity. Crocodile does it again and your mouth drops open in a keen, hips bucking and seeking that wonderful pleasure.

"Say it." Crocodile demands of you and his deep, commanding voice finally has you surrendering.

"Doffy!" You cry, eyes clinching shut as you sag back against Crocodile. His pace increases, rubbing your swelling clit harshly as you wiggle in his lap. The sight is lovely and he presses up into you, enjoying the way you rub yourself against his clothed cock.

"Oh, Angel." Doflamingo praises over the receiver and you flush crimson at the reminder of your actions. What have you done? "Say it again for me. Crocodile, reward her for being a good girl."

"Kuah ha ha." Crocodile's deep chuckle has your thigh twitching. He glances down, golden eyes watching you intently. His hook finds the elastic of your panties and he watches as shock flies over your face when he rips them from your body. Your mouth drops open in a gasp and you scramble to cover yourself from his gaze. However, his hand dives back between your legs before you can shut them, and easily pries your thighs open.

"St-stop! I can't!" You cry out and the men just laugh at you again. Crocodile keeps your thighs spread with his hook and uses his free hand to grab your jaw. He tilts your head back and up, angling so that he can peer into your eyes.

"Stop lying to us." He snarles and his eyes narrow into angry slits. Fear floods you, but your arousal skyrockets at the same time, leaving you in a muddled, confused mess in the pirates' hold. "You will take everything we give you."

With those words, Crocodile jerks your legs open, exposing your core to the cool air of the office and shoves one thick finger into your leaking cunt. You hiss at the sudden stretch, eyes flying open to watch him pump his finger in and out of you, ear burning at the loud squelching sound that echoes in the office.

Just as you felt like you were about to tip over the edge, Crocodile took his hand away and brought it up to his face. He examined your slick in the low light before sticking his finger into his mouth and licking it clean with a happy groan. "Wait until you can taste her, 'Mingo. Just like honey." The devil fruit user rumbled in delight.

You whimper and whine, sounding more like a bitch in heat than a human sitting on her boss's lap. You glance down to see that your thighs are red and scratched, mostly likely from the golden hook that still sits between your legs.

"Does it hurt, Angel?" Doflamingo croons over the speaker and you pick up the sound of skin on skin contact. The blonde was stroking himself to the sound of Crocodile playing with you, and the image that popped up in your mind had you groaning in delight. You found yourself nodding furiously, head thrown back to rest against Crocodile's chest.

"D-Doffy, Crocodile, please!" You keen and gasp when the dark-haired man picks up his pace. His thumb meets your clit again and the warlord smiles at how wet you are just from what little attention he has given you.

"That's it, Pet." He praises and watches in rapt attention when you shut your eyes and buck into his hand.

Thousands of miles away, Doflamingo can picture his two lovers in his mind, the way Crocodile has you in his lap and all splayed out, ready to be devoured. He'd give anything to be able to kneel between your legs right now and drink straight from your source.

"Give her another, Crocodile. I know she can take them." Doflamingo orders over the den den mushi. Crocodile doesn't disappoint and you gasp when another thick digit is added to your tight heat. Tears spring up at the stretch and your hips stutter as you come close again. You sob when that feeling falls away, leaving you pent up and wanting more.

Doflamingo hears your groan and he picks up his pace, long fingered hand flying up and down his cock as he thinks about you. He whines, wrist twisting at teasing the head of his cock as he pictures you and Crocodile.

Crocodile huff, golden eyes rolling as he listened to Doflamingo stroke his cock over the phone. The blonde is insatiable. However, he wasn't Crocodile's priority right now. You were, and he needed to give you a reminder that you belonged to them. His dick ached in his own pants, but he ignored it for now. He pumps his fingers faster, enjoying the sounds that your slick cunt makes as you leak around his fingers.

The blonde couldn't wait to be the one to pull those gorgeous sounds from you. He could hear the heavy breathing of his fellow warlord and they mixed wonderfully with your high-pitched whines.

"Fu fu fu, That's it Crocodile," Doffy purred. His other hand snaked down to squeeze his heavy balls, pulling a gruttle moan from the blonde, "Make her scream. I want to hear everything."

Without warning, Crocodile shifts and adds a third thick finger to your weeping hole. You do scream this time, the stretch a mix of pain and pleasure causing you to bow over. His thumb comes back to your clit, rubbing harshly, until finally, finally, Crocodile allows you to come.

"Ah-ahh ah." You stutter out, eyes clenched shut and mouth dropping open as you are overwhelmed. Your hips grind into his hand between your legs. Your boss doesn't stop or pull away until your hips stop twitching. Crocodile pulls his fingers from your slick cunt and then slurps them into his mouth to clean them. He grunts at your taste.

"Hear that 'Mingo?" Crocodile grunts and Doflamingo can see the shit eating grin even thousands of miles away. "I think we can both say she prefers to be with me." He gloated. You peek up at the man and see that he looks incredibly proud of himself.

Doflamingo whines over the phone. He is so, so close! "C-come on, Croco." His hips stutter and he throws his head back. Over the phone, he picks up the sound of Crocodile finding their assistants wet heat again. The Bird hears you whine and cry, breath heaving for release, and he spills over his tight fist.

"What good pets." Crocodile praises and Doflamingo bites his lip to keep from keening at the praise. Crocodile was proud of both of his lovers and it showed in the tone of his voice and the small smile on his face.

You are exhausted. Your body and mind are nothing but putty. Crocodile easily lifts your body and wraps his fur coat around your body. You whine when the movement causes the apex of your thighs to ache and Doflamingo shushes you gently over the phone.

"Let him take care of you, Angel." He murmurs, tone full of satisfaction, "I'll be there as soon as I can." Like hell would he wait to see you and Crocodile after this.

Crocodile hums, holding his assistant turned lover close to his chest. He glances down and sees that you've already fallen asleep and a small smile graces his face.

"Hurry up, 'Mingo." He rumbles, and his golden eyes slip closed, "We are waiting for you."

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #one piece x you #one piece #one piece x reader #doflamingo x reader #crocodile x reader #crocodile x doflamingo #dofuwani #crocodile x y/n #crocodile x you #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #warlord’s assistant

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angelsnkisses · 11 months

Note

sub gabriel smut where he just needs a lot of praise??? and like reader is giving him a handjob and telling him not to move but he accidentally thrusts up his hips and reader calls him a bad boy n he s like nononnonono im your good boy:((

A/N: i love this idea :(( ofc anon, ty for the request <3

Good Boy ♡ - Gabriel x gn!reader

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

warnings: sub!gabe, dom!gn!reader, handjob, edging

disclaimer: i am not romanticizing or sexualizing mental illness, nor do i intend to upset or harm those struggling.

holy shit sorry for the gifs quality 😭

You had worked late that night, and you were so excited to finally be home. You had missed Gabe all day, craving a hug from him more than anything.

You shuffled into the apartment from the freezing cold outdoors, shuddering gently as you shut the door. The heated living room was comforting, warming you up as you slipped off your jacket.

You didn't call out for Gabe, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep by now. You wouldn't be surprised if he was, it was later than you expected. You quietly walked down the hall, opening the bedroom door as slow as you could manage.

Light from the hallway leaked into the dark room. You were right, Gabe was already asleep. You kicked your shoes off, stripping down to your underwear before getting in bed with him and cuddling close to his chest.

He whined softly at the disturbance, his eyes blinking open. When he processed that it was you, his irritated face relaxed immediately, a sleepy smile breaking out across his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Hi, baby," he mumbled, pushing his face into your neck so he could kiss the soft skin. You hummed, heart swelling with adoration. He was so sweet, always happy to see you. It always made you feel better, no matter how bad your day was.

"Hey there," you chuckled, hands falling on his shoulders. You rubbed them gently, enjoying the warmth he was providing. "I missed you," you added, feeling him nip at your neck a bit.

"Mhmm.. I missed you, too," he agreed, clearly distracted. You grinned, your hands slipping to his chest. He was getting more eager with his movements, pulling you closer and biting your neck lightly.

"I can tell," you giggled, pulling back. He huffed in protest, trying to get his lips back on you. You held him back with your hands planted firmly on his torso, shaking your head. "No, no.. that's not how you get what you want, honey," you cooed, and it was like a switch flipped in his mind.

"I've needed you all day. Please," he begged quietly, sounding more awake now. You could feel his hands running up and down your sides, making you shiver gently.

You pulled back, tugging him up so you were both in a sitting position. You leaned on his shoulder, looking down at his pajama pants. He was already semi-hard, making your lips twitch into a smile.

"My pretty boy, were you waiting for this? You poor thing.." you pitied in his ear, listening to his shaky breaths. He whined softly, embarrassment tinting his tone as he nodded. You pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, one of your hands rubbing his thigh lovingly.

"Use your words, hm?" you encouraged, ignoring his humilated little noises. He parted his shaky lips, forcing out an agreement.

"Y-yes, I was."

You smiled at his obedience, allowing your hand to tug on his pants. "Good boy, Gabe.. take these off for me," you ordered. More blood rushed to his dick at your words as he scrambled to do as you said, pushing the pants down before pulling them off his legs. He didn't have underwear on, making you bite your lip absentmindedly.

He was almost fully hard now, precum leaking from his tip as he shuddered, cold air hitting the sensitive area. He attempted to turn away and hide his face again, but you shook your head, your hand inching closer and closer to where he needed you.

"No, Gabriel. Watch what I'm doing, like a good boy," you motivated quickly.

He whined again, but still did as he was told. He thrived off your praise, he needed it. He would do anything to earn it.

You took hold of his throbbing cock, his hips jerking when your cold fingers wrapped around the heated skin. You sighed at the weight in your hand, not realizing how much you'd really missed it.

"I need you to be still, baby. Can you do that for me?" you asked gingerly. He nodded, his eyes watching your hand as he was told. "Yes, I can do that f-for you," he muttered shyly, earning another kiss to his shoulder.

"Hm, good.." you said before you started pumping your hand slowly, listening to the low moan that left Gabe's throat. His head feel back, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He remembered your order to keep watching and quickly corrected himself.

"Such a pretty cock, just aching for me," you mused. He let out a shaky whimper, trying not to move when you started speeding up.

He moaned loudly when your thumb brushed over his reddened tip, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your touch. You stopped moving, tutting in disappointment.

"Oh, no.. what did I tell you? Bad boy.." you scolded in a quiet voice, looking up at him. His eyes widened as he shook his head, his eyes watery at the lack of touch.

"N-no! Nononono, I'm your good boy- please, I won't do it again. I'm s-sorry, please. I'll be good! I'll be good, please," he begged in a cracked, panicky voice, a couple tears slipping down his red cheeks. You had never seen him beg so frantically before, he must of been really pent up.

You shushed him, leaning up and pressing a silencing kiss to his trembling lips. He kissed you back, his eyes squeezing shut. He released a broken moan against your lips when you started moving your hand again, faster this time.

"Oh, f-fuck! Mmh, please," he whimpered, the sound music to your ears. He was extra good for you, pulling back to watch what you were doing. He stayed still for you, other than his dick occasionally twitching in your hand.

"A-ah.. I'm gonna cum, fuck," he moaned, his voice shaky and his whimpers more consistent.

"Yeah? Hold on a bit longer, baby. Be a good boy and wait," you purred, ignoring his whines. "I can't! Please, I can't," he cried, his legs trembling and his lower abdomen spasming.

"Yes, you can. I promise you can," you assured him, your hand stroking him feverishly. He was fighting back his orgasm for dear life, praying he didn't accidentally finish against your orders.

You tormented and edged him for a bit longer before leaning up, pressing a kiss to his cheek before your lips moved to his ear.

"Alright, baby, you can cum for me. Good boy," you mumbled, feeling his cock throb as he moaned. He tossed his head back, a whimper escaping the back of his throat as he released white, sticky ropes of cum all over your hand and his torso. His hips pushed up a little, but you didn't mind anymore. You just let him get through the orgasm, kissing his neck.

"Oh my god, oh shit~ thank you, th- oh, thank you," he moaned pathetically, slumping against you.

You smiled when he turned, catching his lips with yours in a slow, affectionate kiss. He had done so well for you, and you were immensely proud.

"Good job, baby.." you started, pulling back. You looked at your cum soaked hand, beginning to lick it clean while you held his eye contact. He moaned quietly at the sight, his dick pulsing subtly.

You leaned your head down, lolling out your tongue and beginning to lick up the salty cum from his abdomen. His breath hitched, his dick already starting to harden again at the sight.

"My turn," you said against his skin, slowly moving up so you could hover over his cock..

A/N: sorry for robbing you guys 🤭🤭. i loved this request, it's so sweet! i haven't proofread this yet, but i hope you enjoyed <3. thanks again, anon!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #angelsnkisses #mdni #gabriel 2014 #gabriel #culkin cult #dom!reader #gn!reader

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year

Note

‘you could say I’m fond of you.’ for the soft prompt 👀👀👀

@leothil also asked for this one! Send me soft fic prompts! Here’s the rest of the fills on ao3!

"You could say I'm fond of you," Buck says, head tilted almost sideways, the sort of twinkle in his eyes that Eddie always worried might prove fatal one day for the way it makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

"You could say that, huh?" He crosses his arms, mouth curving upward unbidden. He’s pretty sure Buck is actually saying “hehehe” as he leans forward, giggling, to kiss Eddie’s cheek. Eddie snorts and dodges the attempt, which just causes Buck to follow, until they’re chasing each other in dizzy little circles between the sink and the table. Buck catches him with an arm thrown around his waist, and plants a big wet kiss sort of on his cheek but mostly hitting nose and eye. Eddie laughs in a way that still surprises him, sometimes - a helplessly open thing, so much joy in his body that he has no reason or care to hide.

“Ahem.”

Well, maybe some reason. Maddie stands in the entryway to the kitchen with the squiggly kind of smile someone trying not to. Buck and Eddie are gently frozen around each other, no survival instinct to spring away and avoid capture.

Maddie holds out a hand. “Chim says you owe the PDA jar.”

Eddie makes an indignant sound as Buck throws back his head with a shout of laughter and then, terrible coward, flees the room.

“Nobody was in here! We’re not even at work! This is my house!” Eddie protests even as he digs to find his wallet.

Maddie puts a finger up, reciting “If more than four members of the 118 including the two of you are present at a gathering it counts as a work functio-“

Eddie slaps cash in her hand. “I don’t like your husband very much.”

She grins at him, and then raises an eyebrow. “Two dollars? That seems kind of steep.”

“Inflation’s been brutal.”

She laughs, pocketing her ill gotten bounty. Eddie expects her to return to the party but she stalls there, a curious look in her eyes. Eddie feels suddenly nervous. He counts Maddie as a friend, and he’s pretty certain they’re going to be in laws one of these days, but they haven’t spoken one on one very often and her expression reminds him of the one his own sisters would get when they were about to make his life a little more difficult. He’s started self consciously pretending to rearrange finger sandwiches when she speaks.

“It’s nice to see you being goofy.” When he huffs out a startled laugh she grins and tilts her head, so like her brother. “Evan- Buck is always goofy, no surprise there. But you’re… Funny, certainly, you’re sarcastic, but it’s nice seeing you be silly, Eddie.” She’s so sincere it makes Eddie duck his head, just a little. “You seem really happy. And you make Buck so happy.”

Eddie exhales more than laughs, a quick little sound of awed half-belief. It’s true, he knows it is. It hollows him out completely some days, looking at Buck and seeing such easy elation on his face, and knowing he has some part in putting it there fills up his empty form with light, or champagne, or some other metaphor for love given shape. “I’m glad to,” he says softly. “That’s all I- I want to make him happy, for the rest of our lives. I’m… honestly, the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s because I get to share it with him.”

Maddie’s smile gets all squished and watery. “I can see why they charge you so much for public displays of affection, you romantic.”

Eddie laughs outright, shaking his head. “It’s the coffee fund anyway, I’d still just be spending it on his ridiculous lattes. This is only an extra step.”

Maddie puts her hand on her hip, gleeful and incredulous. “Okay, even that was stupidly sweet. Do I have to charge you again?”

“Have mercy,” he says, putting his hands up. “I have no more cash.”

“You wanna go mug my brother for it?”

Eddie laughs, and picks up the sandwich tray to bring outside. “Come on, let's go sick Chris on him.”

Later, when Buck sprawls to the ground like a sack of bricks under the gentle force of Chris’s tackle, Eddie tells him to give over extra money to the jar.

“Why?” He grins, sweaty from the chase and smelling like fresh grass.

“Preemptive payment.” Eddie bends down and kisses him thoroughly, ignoring the wolf whistles and groans from the audience. He pulls back just slightly, holding his happiness with two hands, and kisses sort of Buck’s cheek, but mostly his nose and eye. “You could say I’m pretty fond of you, too.”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #maddie buckley #my writing

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bichachonacho · 1 year

Text

Night Changes

The final chapter and alternate ending to ‘The Other Woman’ series.

Warnings: Angst, mild smut.

A/N: I’m sorry this has taken almost a month but thank you for those who have been patient and are still interested in reading my work. I appreciate you all <3

To set the scene:

On the night of Aegon’s Name Day celebration you choose to leave with Brandon.

He hears your laughter before he sees you, a sound that makes his chest tighten yet warm at the same time. It was a rare sound he’d hear when you had been married, one that barely emanated from your mouth because of how miserable he had made you. His bitter treatment is a mistake that he’s reminded of daily, you no longer reside in the Red Keep— you’re hundreds of miles away in Winterfell, you are no longer his.

“Brandon— stop it” You hum, nudging him away from you as he plants kisses onto your cheek— the scruff of his beard causing your skin to itch.

“Why must I, you’re my wife. Is a man not permitted to show affection to his wife?” He argues, a playful smirk on his lips. You sigh heavily, allowing him to kiss you one last time before you pull away.

“When we’re at home— yes. You may smother me as you please, just try to hold back while you’re here” You chastise him before you link your arm with his.

Home.

The word is painful to hear for Aemond. You refer to that dreaded cold wasteland as home, even more of a sore reminder to Aemond of how far you’ve drifted from him. He wishes the halls of the Red Keep didn’t allow voices to travel so easily, maybe then his heart wouldn’t ache this much.

“Mother! I didn’t realise you had arrived already” A smile clear on your face as you approach Rhaenyra who greets you both with open arms.

You couldn’t say you were surprised that your mother instantly took a liking to Brandon, he treated you beautifully and he was a man of honour— traits that reminded her of Ser Harwin Strong. You watch in admiration as the two of them converse, allowing you to bask in the silence and observe what you had once called home.

You remember running down these halls barely a handful of years ago, picking up your skirts as you raced to meet Brandon at the gates. You had left a vulnerable Aemond in your bed chambers, heart on his sleeve that you would further wound by choosing to leave him and the ruins of your marriage behind. Your wounded heart had been through enough turmoil at the hands of Aemond— you deserved far better. He knew this. Which is why he let you go.

You haven’t returned to Kings Landing since you had practically begged your grandsire to annul the marriage between you and Aemond. You remember that day well, a memory that haunts you from time to time— even when you’re in your chamber at Winterfell.

“I know I ran away— from my duties and responsibilities, but I stand before you to plead for an annulment” You tried to dull the sounds of gasps in the throne room, the murmuring and whispers of judgement causing you to shift in discomfort.

“Annulment?” King Viserys, your grandsire doesn’t look pleased— but less disappointed than you had expected. A good sign, you think. He hums before a chesty cough erupts from him, the first time you’ve seen his illness in person since you had gotten the letters of his well-being.

“Your reasonings for this annulment being?” Viserys questions you, your hands grow clammy as you choose your words carefully— reciting the sentences you had practiced continuously over the last few moons.

“The marriage between Prince Aemond and I caused me nothing but grief. I cannot commit to my marital duties to him, I am not happy. I fear I will be miserable for the rest of my days if this marriage continues” Your words cause Aemond to almost flinch— they were harsher than he had expected but it’s what he deserves. He knows this. Yet if you were to even glance his way you would see the pained expression on his face, tears welling in his eyes almost.

“Most marriages are not for love— one would be fortunate enough to marry who they love but we do it for political purposes and for the sake of this family. To keep our bloodline pure. Your reasonings aren’t enough child” Viserys begins to dismiss you.

“We never consummated the marriage” You state, the judgemental whispers only growing louder at the sound of your announcement. They grow too unruly to the point where your grandsire has to demand them to quiet.

“We falsified the evidence of the consummation” You say truthfully, biting the inside of your cheek as you prepare for an earful. Viserys just tuts before directing his attention on Aemond who stands a mere few steps away from you.

“Is what she says true, my son?” Aemond nods gently, shame clear on his face as he briefly turns to his father. Viserys just exhales heavily before nodding and announcing that he approves of the annulment.

You didn’t linger in the throne room any longer than you needed, you avoided Aemond’s gaze— afraid that if you saw his hurt expression, guilt would consume you. So you didn’t, you left for Winterfell before nightfall and didn’t bother to turn back.

Almost two years have passed since you stood in Kings Landing, and now you had returned a new woman. You no longer wore the Targaryen name— you were a Stark who wore heavy coats and fur, you had grown accustomed to the icy weather in Winterfell and you found it fascinating. The heat here makes your cheeks flush and feel uncomfortable from the warmth. You wished you were back in Winterfell with Brandon— but you mustn’t neglect your family, even if that means facing Aemond again.

“Is grandsire attending the feast?” You question your mother, hopeful that he would be present tonight. You already know the answer when you see the look on her face, she shakes her head and informs you of his illness causing him to be bedridden. You make a mental note to visit him in his chamber after dinner.

You were given time to rest from your long travels before the family dinner. You were grateful for the brief time that allowed you and Brandon to stay hidden in the guest chambers, but now you had to prepare to face your family. This would be the first time since you fled Kings Landing they would see you and you didn’t know what to expect. The worst is all you expect, knowing your family and how dysfunctional they are— you already have your doubts.

“I’m assuming we cannot hide in here for the rest of the stay?” You hum as you adjust your dress, over examining the way you look in the mirror. Despite your insecurities, you admire the way your husband looks in his black attire. He stands behind you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his body.

“Unfortunately, no” Brandon chuckles, lips finding their way onto the skin of your neck as he plants gentle kisses.

“You will be fine, my love. You are their blood” Brandon reassures you, his presence alone comforting you enough for your ragged breathing to calm. You nod, exhaling heavily while accepting his words. You will be fine.

You should’ve known what to expect. Everyone, minus your own brothers and Helaena, greeted you stiffly. The judgemental expressions clear on their faces as they watched you and your husband enter the room. You knew what thoughts grew behind their eyes, you didn’t need to guess how they felt— they made it abundantly clear from their expressions alone.

Aemond sat where he always did, you cursed at yourself internally for allowing your eyes to travel to him almost immediately the moment you stepped closer to the table. You silently noted the slight change in his appearance, he’s aged slightly— his hair is shorter, cheeks more hollow and jaw sharper than ever— yet his eye patch and scar remained the same.

“How is Winterfell?” Alicent breaks the silence, momentarily stopping her movements of cutting into her food as her eyes gaze into yours from across the long table. No one besides your husband and brothers had spoken a word to you— not even Helaena had uttered anything else besides hello. You were feeling the consequences of your absence now greater than ever.

“It’s as it always is. Cold and draped in snow” Brandon answers on your behalf, his hand caressing yours beneath the table in reassurance— a gesture you’re most grateful for. It saved you from having to scramble together sentences to speak to the woman who had once been your mother by law.

She had taken a liking to you before but the love she has for her children is far greater than anything in this world— you already sensed she had a distaste for you after you had left Aemond behind.

“Glad to see you’re thriving in Winterfell, dear niece. Meanwhile, my brother withers away and becomes less of a man as each day passes” Aegon snickers from across the table, a goblet in his hand and a sly smirk on his face as he eyes you out. His words cause Aemond to finally lift his gaze from his plate— his eye shifting between the two of you.

“In true Aegon fashion— you must always make a fuss at every table we feast on” You tut, a false polite smile on your face as you try to keep this conversation civil. Despite his tone, you didn’t want this to turn sour— you were already frowned upon by everyone in the room— giving in to his shenanigans would only make it worse.

“Is it really a fuss if I speak the truth? Besides, I’m just being a concerned older brother— is there any harm in that?” Aegon hums, chugging back the last of the wine in his cup before he slams his hand down on the table— demanding for more wine.

Your eyes narrow as you watch him closely whilst his wine is being poured. You think he’ll finally shut his mouth and be quiet— that he’ll realise it’s not worth the hassle or effort to stir the pot any more than he has already.

“I would like to make a toast” Aegon announces before he pushes out of his chair to stand— the chair making an obnoxious screech as he moves.

“We should be grateful to finally be sat in the same room again. Our family finally whole…” Aegon continues with his speech, his words growing numb in your ears as you begin to disassociate. Aegon speaks drunken words, you all know what he says doesn’t matter but you allow him to speak them all the same.

“And to my whore of a niece who has finally crawled out from the hole they call Winterfell— I would like to commemorate you for being the first Targaryen to actually let a Stark charm their way into their bed” His words gain your attention immediately, your mouth opens to say something but your words fail you. Your gaze shifts to Aemond’s who is already staring at you, the shared contact causes him to blink at you before he pulls his attention away.

“Mind your tongue when speaking to my wife. Royalty or not, I assure you you will lose it if you continue speaking to her in this manner” Brandon stands, speaking in a defensive tone as he partially shields you with his body. Aegon just snorts, the smirk still gracing his features as his eyes shift onto you.

“You have a perculiar taste in men. Why do they both have a fascination with severing tongues?” Aegon’s snarky comment is a direct jab at the marriage you once shared with Aemond— the threat he made about severing your tongue still makes your heart somewhat ache. Not in the way it used to, it’s just a sore reminder of how miserable the marriage you were once trapped in made you.

“Perhaps because people like you prove some deserve to be severed” You seethe, trying your hardest not to let his words anger you more than they already have.

“You will stop this childish banter at once. Aegon you will sit down and remain silent for the rest of the evening— your Queen and Mother demands it” Alicent breaks the feud between you, her statement causing Aegon to scoff before he slumps back into his seat— only then does Brandon retreat into his own.

“Are you alright, my love?” Brandon questions you, his voice low and face close to yours. You give him a tight lipped smile before nodding, squeezing his hand as a sign of reassurance.

“His words mean nothing, my sweet husband” You hum before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, a small smile forming on his own at the gesture.

Aemond is sure he feels his heart practically pull apart from the sight before him. Your eyes boring lovingly into your husband’s as you whisper sweet words to each other— he wishes it were him who had protected you from his brother’s insults. He wishes it were him who is comforting you, holding your hand and pressing kisses onto your cheek.

He wants you to look at him just once more at this dinner. He pleads silently for you to notice how his gaze hasn’t left yours since you had locked eyes with him for a mere moment. He convinces himself that you will spare him one last glance. You don’t, instead you and Brandon leave quietly once the dinner has concluded, talking amongst yourselves hand in hand as you make your way back to your chambers.

“Gods, you feel so good” Brandon moans out, the obnoxious sounds of the bed colliding with the wall causing your cheeks to warm at the thought of someone hearing you. If you weren’t in complete euphoria you would bother to tell Brandon to quiet, but you don’t— you allow him to rut his hips into yours noisily as he fucks you.

“My sweet wife. Tell me you’re mine” Brandon’s thrusts quicken as his hand fondles your breast, desperate to feel your walls tighten around him. Only then would he release.

“I am yours. Only yours” You moan out before you press your lips against his— swallowing his grunts and moans as he releases inside of you, the feeling of you cumming around him causing him to reach his high.

Aemond wishes he were deaf or that he had at least bothered to move into another chamber during your absence but he is graced by neither of those options. He wanted to reside in the same chamber so that he would be reminded of you, he didn’t want to forget the memories you shared in these walls— even the ones that made tears fall from your eyes. Unfortunately for Aemond, you and Brandon had been housed in your old chamber which meant he would have to endure listening to the two of you make love.

I am yours. Only yours.

He knows he shouldn’t dwell on what could have been but he can’t help it nor does he stop himself from blissfully imagining it had been him you said those words to. That he was the one who had you a moaning and withering mess beneath him. He’s brutally reminded of reality when he prys his eyes open and questions his sanity as he realises he’s hardened at the mere thought of you. He forces himself to turn over and sleep, despite tossing and turning he would endure the restlessness to fight the strong urges he feels for you.

The following morning, Aemond tries yet again to gain your attention. He hopes you will visit the Keep’s library— so he spends all morning pacing around and aimlessly looking for books you might be interested in. It’s been some years but he still remembers the ones you would read to him, mainly fairytales and children’s books. When that attempt proves to be a waste of time, he tries the gardens— a place you would visit daily. He spends almost an hour there before he leaves in a huff— wondering where else you could be on a day like this.

He doesn’t expect to see you in the training grounds of the Keep, yet there you are sat upon a barrel as you watch Brandon spar with some of the Kights in the City watch. Aemond has to fight a smile that almost breaks onto his face at the sight of you, clad in the attire of your true house— you looked as though you had never left. Never left Kings Landing. Never left him.

“Prince Aemond. Spar with me, I wish to show my mentor how much his work has paid off” Brandon calls him over after spotting him from across the court, Aemond curses under his breath as he feels your eyes trail toward him. Despite his urge to leave, Aemond just nods before moving forward and joining the Stark.

“I have not kept up with my swordsmanship— excuse me for my lack of skill” Aemond apologises as he accepts a sword used for training. Brandon just shrugs and laughs it off.

“This will not be a serious fight, I won’t be much of a challenge” Brandon’s words are a lie, which is proven when Aemond is knocked to the ground for what seems like the tenth time since the sparring started. A part of Aemond hopes that you still cared about him enough to end this match.

“Tell me Prince Aemond, when was the last time you swung a sword? Seems to have been quite some time” Brandon questions, the smirk on his face a clear indication he’s toying with the Prince. Aemond isn’t blind to this but he answers truthfully anyway, hoping you were watching this unfold.

“Two years” Aemond grunts as he pushes back up off the dirt, the sound of their swords clashing rings in your ears and cause you to shudder as you remember the last time these two fought.

“The last time my wife stood in Kings Landing— seems like a coincidence” Brandon tuts, his tone causing you to sigh heavily— tired of his antics that are causing Aemond grief. You had watched enough of your former husband being pushed in the dirt and have his reputation slandered in one sparring match.

“Brandon, my mother has called for our presence. Please end this match” You call for him, the sound of your voice immediately making both men lower their swords. You ignore the way Aemond’s gaze burns on your face, desperation clear in his shameless stare that he wants you to look at him.

Just once. Please just once.

He silently pleads as he watches you talk to your husband as you wait for him to hand back his sword. He holds onto his hope until he watches you turn your back to him and begin to walk away with Brandon by your side. He wondered if he would ever get you alone during your stay, it seems as though it wouldn’t be likely.

“Your Grandsire wishes to host a ball to commemorate our family being united once again. You will attend, it may be the last we will share with the King” Your mother had informed you before calling in the handmaidens to pull together some dresses you may like to wear.

You insist on wearing the dresses you had brought from Winterfell but they seemed too dark to fit the occasion, you would stick out like a sore thumb and you didn’t want any more attention than you had already gained. It wasn’t news to you that word spread quickly that you had returned. The princess who ran away from her family and abandoned her marriage to marry another man. That’s all they care to believe, no one questions why you chose to leave in the first place. No one questioned Aemond for being the reason you left your home and everything you knew.

“Prepare for a tiresome evening” You murmur to your husband before you enter the hall, arms linked together as you pass everyone by and greet those who approach you first. Aemond thinks you look angelic, your deep red dress fits you perfectly as you enter the room— the man beside you is invisible to him. You look ethereal to him, a beautiful sight he should’ve appreciated greater when he had you.

The traditional ceremonies bore Aemond to death, he much rather enjoys the sight of you at the other end of the long table your whole family sits on. You feel his gaze but yet again you do not give in to his presence that demands to be known. You interlace your fingers with Brandon’s as you endure the rest of the speeches, your head almost lulling back as you fight the urge to sleep.

You sprung at the chance to get up and move even if that meant forcing Brandon to follow you onto the floor to dance with you. He was lousy, as you expected— he could handle a sword far more gracefully than he could dancing, but it was entertaining for you to watch him try.

“You should stop staring holes into her, brother. You’ve already suffered enough by letting her haunt you these past two years, no need to make yourself suffer worse by hoping she’ll run back into your arms” Aegon claps his hand on Aemond’s shoulder, causing him to break his gaze away from you and Brandon dancing. He didn’t realise he had been staring so intensely at you, if a sober Aegon could notice then surely others did too.

“I do not wish that. I’m no fool” Aemond mutters, shoving Aegon’s grasp from his shoulder. Aegon replies with a chuckle in disbelief at his brother’s statement.

“Right and I am not a free man who can drink and whore his way through Kings Landing unscathed” Aegon snickers, Aemond just tuts at how hypocritical his statement is.

“You are a free man who can drink and whore his way through Kings Landing unscathed, you fool” Aemond scoffs, averting his eyes back to the sights of you. A small smile graces his features at the sight of you smiling widely, despite it being caused by Brandon— he was grateful to see it.

“You are the fool. This woman not only abandoned your marriage but berated you in front of our father and lords alike when she begged for an annulment, yet you still wish to have her back” Aegon’s words are true, which is most concerning to Aemond. His brother is right, maybe for the first time in his life he believes this.

You broke his heart just as he had broken yours the moment you stepped back into the throne room to ask to annul the marriage. At that point you had been gone for just over three moons, no one in Kings Landing had heard word from you— yet everyone knew where you had fled. When Aemond heard of your return, his heart swelled at the thought that you may have returned to him. That you had realised a life with a Stark was not what you wanted and that Aemond was the one you chose in the end. His hopes were shattered the moment he saw you standing before his father, a slight frown on your face as you confess the very words that still haunt him to this day.

Aemond doesn’t bother continuing the conversation with his brother, he just pushes back into his seat and settles with the fact that he’ll just endure the rest of the evening and hope time passes quickly. You on the other hand are getting flustered by the overwhelming amount of moving bodies around you. You want nothing more than fresh air so you stop your movements before pushing up to talk in your husband’s ear.

“I’m going outside for air” You inform him, declining his offer to join you before you leave him to continue dancing with the others. You wanted a moment alone to catch your breath— to regain your thoughts as you savour some moments alone.

You do just that, inhaling the slightly cold air and enjoying a moment of peace away from everyone in that hall. You attention is captured by the view in the far distance, the vast city you once called home fascinating you with its sights. Kings Landing wasn’t the most majestic place to be, especially given it’s foul reputation but you learned to admire it.

“A princess should not wander alone” A voice of a man you recognise instantly causes your attention to pull away from the view. You feel a lump grow in your throat as you reluctantly turn to face him.

Aemond stands behind you, posture straight and hands clasped behind his back as he stares down at you. You can observe him more closely in this proximity, the closest you have gotten to him since you had arrived in Kings Landing.

“A princess knows how to defend herself. Besides, there’s guards for a reason” You shrug, sounding more nonchalant than you had intended. Aemond flashes you a small smile before stepping forward to stand beside you.

He hesitates speaking, his mouth opening and shutting as he tries to form the right words. A sight that was new to you, when you were married to him it seemed as though he always knew what to say. His sentences were always well articulated and he barely stuttered. You didn’t recognise the man before you.

“Your hair is shorter” You fill in the silence, your comment causes Aemond’s chest to warm at the mere fact you noticed such a detail. It only grows warmer when he feels your fingers brush through some of the silver strands.

“Thought I’d try something new” Aemond hums, savouring the brief feeling of your touch before it’s torn away from him and you pull back— he can’t deny the fact he’s disappointed.

“You haven’t spoken a word to me since you’ve arrived” Aemond changes the subject to a more sore topic, one that causes you to stiffen in discomfort.

“Exchange in words go both ways Aemond. You’ve had ample opportunities to speak to me” You argue back, your point causing him to nod in agreement. He could have easily spoken to you, despite your own personal direwolf being glued to your side— he would’ve risked conversation just to hear your voice.

“I was scared. Scared that you would reject me again” Aemond hums, a serious look in his eye when you gaze into his.

“Is it still considered rejection if you allowed me to leave you in the first place?” You question, satisfied when you watch him fall silent at the fact that you’re right.

“Where is your lover Alys? I haven’t seen her once since I have returned” You watch as he looks off into the distance before he responds.

“I sent Alys away the moment you fled Kings Landing. She returned to her home the morning after you left. I could not bear to have her be a reminder of the marriage I lost— the marriage I let slip through my fingers” Aemond’s words cause the lump in your throat to grow even bigger. This is what you were afraid of, that your presence in Kings Landing would give Aemond some kind of false hope.

“If you had stayed with me I would’ve changed my ways. I would not let you be miserable for the rest of your days” Aemond hums, hurt clear in his tone as he recites the words you spoke the day you asked for an annulment. You should’ve known those words scarred him— the moment they left your mouth you should’ve known it would plague his mind.

“Aemond, you and I both know the words I spoke that day remain true” Your hands fondle with each other, your finger nails digging into the skin of your hands.

“I know. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing we were fated, that our story would have a different outcome” Aemond sighs, turning back to face you as he continues.

“I spend every night in torment, wishing you had chosen me on Aegon’s Name day. I let you go for your own happiness but my own selfishness hoped, prayed that you would return to me” His confession leaves you speechless.

“I am not a godly man but I prayed to the gods that night that you’d have a change of heart. I stayed in your bedchambers well past dawn in hopes you’d come back. That is selfish of me, I’m aware”

“Aemond stop this. Please… save your words” You exhale, growing tired of his attempts at opening an old wound— one that you deemed sealed for the rest of your days.

“I don’t have enough time with you— please let me speak” Aemond’s tone is desperate but he remains calm, barely showing any signs of desperation on his face.

“The more you speak, the more you will hurt yourself. There is no point bringing up the past when I have already moved on” You’re being harsh, you know that but it’s the only way— you didn’t intend on giving him false hope. You knew where this conversation was leading so you figured you’d cut it short while you still could.

“I am going back inside…” You state before you turn to leave him, hoping he would let the conversation die and allow you to return to the hall.

“I have not seen your face nor heard your voice in two years. I beg of you to let me have a few more moments alone with you” Aemond pleads, his hand moving to grasp ahold of yours to hold you in place gently. You sigh heavily before allowing him to turn you around to face him, your bodies are closer in proximity than you intended— than you wished for, but you allow him to hold you there.

“In your absence, I have devoted myself only to you. I have not touched another nor let anyone else plague my thoughts. Only you. I miss you— I need you” Aemond’s grip on your hands tightens slightly, a feeling that causes you to almost pull away.

“You confuse me, Aemond. You let me leave. You told me you wished to see me happy— now you have a change of heart” Confusion is clear on your face as you stare up at him.

“I will admit again that I was a fool for mistreating you. I am a fool again for letting you leave me. I should have fought for you— begged you on my hands and knees for you to stay”

“There’s no amount of begging you could do that would make me change my mind. I love my husband, Winterfell is my home— and the decision I made to leave that night has been one of the best I’ve made” You’re being honest, your words sound bitter but you aren’t saying them out of spite. It’s the truth.

Aemond feels his chest tighten at your words, he should expect it— you’ve made it clear you no longer want him and that you’ve moved on, yet your tone still catches him off guard. He wishes for the woman who used to speak softly to him, who yearned for even a few loving sentences from him.

“You’re being selfish Aemond” You state before you pull away from him to create space between the two of you. A lump grows in his throat at the sound of your words— this is it, he thinks as he watches you turn your back to him to face the view again.

“I am being selfish, I will continue to be selfish as I ask you this” Aemond hums before he continues.

“Will you leave with me? We can run from here. Vhagar will take us anywhere you please— we can start anew, new lives, new names. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go” Aemond says, his hand finding the curve of your back as he watches your face to catch your expression.

Your mouth feels dry as you process his words. You didn’t know how to respond, you were certain of your decision already but still, you didn’t know how to voice it. Despite Aemond’s faults and his wrongdoings, it still somewhat hurt you to see him this desperate for you. Your absence clearly took a toll on him and you felt responsible for how much he’s declined. If you had been the girl you were two years ago, you would’ve fell to your knees and accepted his offer. You would ride on dragonback away with him to where-ever he wanted, he would be enough for you. But you aren’t the same girl you were two years ago, you were stronger than you ever were and Aemond’s grovelling wasn’t enough for you.

“I appreciate that you are trying, Aemond. I have not been blind to your efforts but this isn’t enough” You turn to him, watching as the hope drains from his face the moment the words leave your mouth.

“I will not torment you any longer. I ask that you forget about your fantasies of us running away— they will not come true” You state bluntly.

“I am loyal to Brandon Stark— and him only. He has shown me what true love means and I am happiest when I am with him. Your promises will not change that” You continue, his gaze dropping from yours as he finds interest in the ground beneath your feet.

“I am unapologetic about this but I do wish you will find love. Do not let me plague your thoughts any longer, you should be free to love another” You grasp ahold of his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. His skin feels warm against yours— the feeling of your hand against his causes goosebumps to rise on his skin.

“Forget about me, Aemond. I will do the same in return” You say in finalisation before you pull away from him, sparing him one last glance before you return inside. He stands in silence as he remains staring at the ground, wishing he had said nothing at all. Perhaps that would’ve been better.

You would forget about him and he would forget about you— of your marriage that once bound the two of you together. Now you were nothing, you had no reason to be tied to each other besides the fact you shared the same blood. He would have to settle with that and learn to be content. Aemond questions if he ever will find happiness as you leave him yet again with a broken heart.

—

A/N: Sorry if this ending isn’t as great as I said it would be 😭 Idk about the angst but thank you for reading this series regardless :)

(forgive me for any typos, this was roughly edited)

Taglist <3

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#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n

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reorientation · 7 months

Note

ftm who recently lost her virginity, back with an update. i begged him to force me back into womanhood and he really delivered. within five minutes of feeling his penis fix me i admitted my real name to him and he groaned it against my neck so low and full of need that i almost came. he took the spark of my femininity and fanned it into a roaring inferno of womanhood, ill genuinely never be able to go back. hes going to introduce me to his friends by my real name and theyre all going to knock me up together. i cant believe i waited so long to ask a man to bring me back onto the right path, it is such ecstasy to be truly corrected and pleasured as the female i never stopped being. so worth the wait though. thank you for your guidance and erotic words.

(Previously)

Just a few days from getting fucked by a man for the first time to being fully corrected and ready to conceive. It goes so fast, doesn't it? You can spend years trying to be a "man", but when the right man comes along inside, suddenly none of that matters anymore.

I'm so happy for you, little lady. It must have felt unbelievably good to hear him moan your "dead"name while bare inside of you, and feel the part of you that you tried to kill come gloriously back to life.

What I love, too, is that this is what it looked like with a man who respected your "gender identity". He was willing to call you a boy while he fucked you... but it doesn't sound like he had the slightest hesitation in making a proper woman out of you. It doesn't even sound like he was surprised.

Every fakeboy bursting with the need to express her femininity should have such a man. Every good girl deserves such respect.

#kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #ftm misgendering kink #ftm detransition kink #ftm breeding #ftm girl #reor: anon life story #reor: respect anon

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minniepetals · 2 years

Text

a thousand springs

— summary: when poison threatens to take your life away from them, they only wish they had more time with you

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, fluff, poly!au, historical!au, royalty!au

— word count: 11.4k

— warnings: poison consumption, talks of death, reader gains illness from poison that has the potential to take her life, injuries, hurt and comfort (happy ending)

— rec music: listened to jimin & ha sung woon - with you while writing this

You stare at the budding flowers in the garden, feeling a sense of serene as the gentle breeze allows you to get a better wisp of the smell, melting your tense shoulders almost instantly.

“They’re almost ready to be picked,” you say into the comfortable silence as you crouch down to gently reach out to one of them as if giving attention to a child. You’re so soft, so gentle with them, and when you turn over to look up at the man behind you, the tender smile on your face softens his hardened features. “Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”

“Seems that way,” he says, and although you both know he has no clue about the flowers at hand, the way you giggle in response to his short answer makes him smile discreetly.

“It has a strong sense of calm to them,” you say as you return your focus back to the blooming flowers. “I think it’d help Namjoon a lot. Ah and speaking of, Jimin and Taehyung should be back soon, shouldn't they? I assume Taehyung will probably go on a ramble about how annoying his missions are so I should prepare some calming tea for him, and Jimin will probably knock out the second he returns. By the way, Jungkook,” he falls at your every attention the second you call for him, holding a hand out to help you up without a word. “Seokjin mentioned he was running out of ink the other day, do you think you could accompany me to town later?”

He nods at your request while you continue rambling.

“Maybe I should get him a new brush as well. The man really loves his writings so he’s probably quite particular about what sort of brush he uses. Maybe I should ask him about it. But then again I sort of want it to be a surprise. He’d like that wouldn’t he?” Jungkook nods again. “Then, do you think you can help me?”

He nods once more, already preparing to leave when you stop him by the tug of his sleeve.

He turns around, wondering why you had suddenly stopped him when you reached up to pick something from his hair.

“Looks like Spring is faring well,” you say with a sweet giggle as you reveal the pink petal plucked from his hair. “When the castle calms, we should go on an outing to enjoy the cherry blossoms.”

“If it’s what you want, I’ll mention it to Namjoon.”

“Hey now, you’re making it sound like I’m the only one who wants this. It’s high time you relax as well, Jungkook, enjoy yourself a little more.” When he shakes his head, you sigh with a small pout. “You boys are always running all over the place, never taking a moment to calm down. One day you’re going to regret taking up my offer. Can’t you do it? For me?”

“My missions..”

You frown when he says so, an upset expression forming upon your features. “Argh, you’re always so busy, aren’t you? If it wasn't for the fact that you have to remain as my bodyguard, I know you would have definitely gone with Jimin and Taehyung. It kind of breaks my heart thinking about it.”

“I…”

Seeing the conflicted gaze in his eyes, you laugh aloud. “Just kidding. Of course, I know your missions take priority so don't worry too much about what I just said. I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll—”

“M-My lady! Master Jungkook!”

The two of you turn at the retainer whose feet carry loud and heavy.

“Come now, Wen, why’re you in such a h—”

“Master Taehyung is heavily injured!”

The second he announces those words, you can physically feel your heart dropping and Jungkook, who had been silent all this time, quickly hurries to carry you so that when he takes off, it only takes a few moments before you arrive at the main hall where a heavily injured Taehyung is carried with support from Jimin.

Your breath hitches at the sight of their bloody bodies, both hands coming up to cover your lips as you stand there, trembling.

“Tae—”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses your concern with a cold remark as Yoongi and Hoseok rush to the scene in order to help the two ninjas.

You walk over, brows arching with distress. “Clearly not.”

“I’m talking fine, aren’t I?”

God, why does he always have to be stubborn when it comes to his injuries? Still, you know you can’t do much except give the man his space as he gets carried off to his chambers with the doctor following right behind.

At times like this, you know you’ll just have to wait it out until the fatigue hits him and he doesn’t have any more energy to get upset about the mission. It doesn’t hide the fact that it hurts seeing him in such a state, however.

“Y/N, will you help Jimin?” Hoseok asks with a hand on your shoulder when you stood there, looking after Taehyung’s disappearing body.

You turn around at the older man, brows pressing together as you take a look at Jimin. He’s injured as well, not as bad as Taehyung but injured still.

Once Jimin is settled in his private chambers, you get to tending through his wounds without a moment of rest, knowing that you’d rather keep yourself busy than fret over other things. Whatever happened during their mission, they’ll have to eventually report to Namjoon but for now, all is quiet as you sit before Jimin, the sun already down as you watch over his cuts and bruises.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence after a while and you feel a hand holding you under the ear in order to tilt your head up to look up at him. “Taehyung will be alright,” Jimin assures, a gentle yet transient smile resting on his face.

Your expression breaks slightly. “Why does he always have to be stubborn?”

“You know how Taehyung is.”

“I just wish he’d let me care for him during times like this.”

“He just doesn’t like you seeing him in his weakened state.” You frown when he says that, eyes looking down once more to return your focus back on wrapping Jimin’s arm.

“That stubborn brat,” you mumble under your breath, causing him to chuckle lightly when the doors slide open and Hoseok walks in. “How is he?” You’re quick to ask.

“He’s just fine. It took some time but his stubborn ass finally decided to rest,” Hoseok reports with a sigh as he finds a space on the floor beside the two of you. “Jungkook’s watching over him.”

“Does this mean the mission was a fail?” You turn to Jimin, concern filling your features.

He sends you an apprehensive look. “It’s too early to say. Namjoon will probably have me and Jungkook return to the scene to pick up after my and Taehyung’s work.”

“But you just returned injured and look at what happened to Taehyung.”

“This is to help the Clan, Y/N,” he reminds you solemnly and you sit there, not wanting to hear the truth. Seeing as the bandages are all wrapped securely on his arm, Jimin reaches up to gently stroke your hair. “Come on now, don’t give me that look. We’ll be fine.”

“But..”

“I know what to do now,” he assures. “We just foolishly fell into the enemy’s trap but I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“How can you be so sure…” You mutter, still refusing to accept this despite knowing it isn’t your place to voice out such an opinion. You may be the Lady of the Clan but even then, any details that have to do with the ninjas’ missions will always go deaf to your ears.

“Because we have you waiting for us back at home.” He states it so surely you almost fall for the smile Jimin sends you but you know better than that. After all, despite the many years you’ve spent with them, it still worries you to no end when they run off to do some dangerous task.

Your heart will never be settled as long as you are the wife of highly skilled warriors.

Hoseok takes your hand in your silence and gives you a gentle squeeze. “They’ll be fine,” he says gently and you know you can’t do much to refute that.

Days later, Jimin and Jungkook disappear without a trace, most likely off to the said mission.

You can feel it when Jungkook’s eyes are no longer on yours. After all, he always watches over you whether in person or somewhere hidden in the air, so when you can no longer feel a watchful gaze, that’s when you know he’s gone off to do a mission.

The castle has gotten busy ever since that night.

“Are you coming to bed soon?”

Namjoon keeps busy at his desk with his brush rushing through the stack of papers before him even as he answers you. “Head to bed first, alright? I’ll join you soon.”

You know that’s a lie because one time you woke up in the middle of the night and there he was still at his desk, busying away.

Upon your silence and unmoving body, Namjoon looks up with a rueful smile once he spots your frown. “If you’ve gotten that lonely sleeping on your own, why don’t you join Taehyung?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried? He kicked me out as always,” you say with a huff as you stand from the bed and crawl on over and sit yourself by his side, eyes scanning over the complicated papers he has to read and write. “Want some help?” You ask as you look up at your husband, the Lord of the Clan.

He chuckles lightly at your offer of assistance and brings his hand to ruffle your head. “You haven’t the slightest clue what’s written on these pages, do you?”

“If you teach me, I can play my part.”

“I’d love to do that,” he says, pausing, “on another day.” You frown. “Go on now, stop being stubborn and catch up on your rest.”

“You should listen to your own advice,” you say as you crawl away but only to show up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist with your chin plopped onto his shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I miss you,” you confess, nuzzling further into the cloth of his hanbok.

Namjoon says nothing to that and simply returns to his work, but from the corner of your eyes, you can see a small smile curled along his lips. He probably misses you too but has to unfortunately put his work before you.

That’s just what the head of the Clan has to do. Above all, throw his desires away to make sure things are okay in the Clan again. After all, Jimin and Jungkook are off busying themselves on a mission. He can’t slack off.

You take ahold of the brush at hand, brows furrowed in concentration as you stroke a finger upon the hair in order to get a feel of what Seokjin likes.

Hm.

How does one tell what’s a good brush and what isn’t? Jungkook was supposed to get the intel for you but now that he’s away on a mission, you have to take matters into your own hands. It’s hard though, you have to admit, because no matter how many times you brush your fingers over the hairs, you still have no idea what you’re looking for.

Perhaps the shop owner will have a better say in the field. You can just ask him instead. And besides, Seokjin’s probably a frequent visitor so they’d be likely to easily point out which brush it is that he likes best.

Yeah, you should do that.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You quickly put the brush back in its place before the doors slide open and Seokjin walks in, frowning slightly at the sight of you in his private chambers.

“I thought you enjoyed unexpected visitors,” you say as you stand to walk over to his side and help him carry a few scrolls in.

“You’re not exactly unexpected though.”

You sigh when he says that. “Ah, by the way, I was planning on heading to town to pick up a few things so—”

“No.”

You blink at his quick reply. “Huh?”

“You’re not allowed out or go anywhere by yourself now that no one’s here to watch over you,” he states as he takes a seat before his desk. You place the scrolls down with a slight frown.

Duties, duties.

You’re basically stuck here now.

Ah, what good is being the Lady of a Clan when you can’t even go anywhere without an escort?

With your knees pressed up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them, cheek laying against your knees as you look out the open window upon the pretty cherry blossoms that stand just outside the doors. You know sitting like this isn’t very ladylike but for now, you don’t care as your eyes yearn for the outing you mentioned to Jungkook that one day.

Seems it won’t be happening this year either.

Soon enough the cherry blossoms will have all fallen and you’d be stuck watching them from the castle once more, unable to have the viewing and picnic you so yearned for ever since you were wed into the Clan.

“Don’t look like that.”

You turn back to Seokjin with a forced smile. “Like what?” The least you can do is pretend to not sulk over small things like this when they’re over here busy with castle work, just trying to maintain a good system.

You can’t be selfish.

Seokjin sighs knowingly and pauses in his readings in order to hold a hand out for you. “Come here.”

You don’t hesitate to walk on over and take a seat beside him, eyes eagerly looking up at the attention he’s finally giving you. He reaches a hand out to stroke your head, a gentle expression on his face. “Soon, things will calm down. Just wait a little longer, alright?”

Soon there will be no cherry blossoms to look at.

“I can wait as long as you’d like, don’t worry about me.” Still, you speak those words from the bottom of your heart, knowing that your selfish desires will only burden them.

Seokjin understands your heart and frowns slightly because he knows he can’t fulfill them. “I’ll be alright,” you say, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

You take what you can get, smiling into the kiss.

A soft melody resounding into the silence of the night, Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound, knowing just who is playing such a beautiful melody.

His feet carry him towards the sound and there he finds you sitting on the veranda, playing the flute as you would whenever you can. Most nights you’ll play it for them when things are less busy, on other nights you’ll play it in the loneliness of the night, the sound of the flute keeping you company.

He watches you for some time, just standing there as the moonlight brightens your beauty, closed eyes, fingers lightly pressing on the holes of the flute ever so often, your lips blowing air into the wooden thing.

How long has it been since he’s sat in your presence and simply listened to you speak?

You must be so lonely now that everyone else has gotten so busy.

So he silently takes a few steps forward and takes a seat right beside you. The music falters a little when you feel his presence but quickly picks back up when you realize that it’s him. Yoongi lays his head on your lap and rests his eyes, feeling the fatigue finally get to him now that he’s taken the time to settle down after such a busy day.

When the music dies down and you put the flute down beside you, he feels your fingers run through his hair in a gentle manner.

“Finally taking up my offer to rest, huh?”

Yoongi holds a hand out, flexing his fingers until you give him your hand. “There’s still so much to do but at least Jimin and Jungkook are returning soon.”

You gasp at the news. “Really?”

Yoongi nods. “We got a letter this afternoon.”

“That’s great news! I can finally go into town now.”

“Ah, is that what you’re excited about?”

You giggle at his lazy response. “I previously asked Jungkook to accompany me to town in order to grab a present for Seokjin and now that I think about it, maybe I should pick some things up for Taehyung as well. He’s still as stubborn as ever, refusing to allow me into his private chambers. Isn’t it rather unfortunate? Why does he choose to remain cooped up in his bed when he could be roaming outside, looking at the pretty cherry blossoms? Soon enough, the petals will all have fallen and we’ll have to wait a whole other year to see them again.”

When you look down at the man on your lap, you frown slightly at his closed eyes, breath slowing down. “Hey, are you even listening?”

“Mmn,” he hums. “Keep talking, I like listening to your voice.”

“Oh.” Well, you hadn’t expected that response.

“It’s soft and gentle, like a spring breeze. Though in honesty, nothing compares to having you here like this, not even your voice.” He looks up at you with a gentle squeeze to your hand, smiling softly.

“I…” You can feel your cheeks slightly heating up. “I like your voice too…” You say, gently, and Yoongi chuckles lightly as he sits up.

He puts a hand beside you, resting his body against it as he crowds you in, and before long, you feel his soft lips on yours.

Yoongi’s kisses are sweet and gentle, unlike his more serious and stern side whenever he’s on the battlefield or speaking during war council. This is the hidden and soft side only you and the guys get to witness, no one else.

You feel so lucky.

“Okay, this time, maybe he won’t kick me out.” You steady yourself with a tray of tea prepared in your hands, prepping yourself up because you know it takes effort to try and get Taehyung to open up. How many days has it been since he returned with his injuries? It’s been some time now so maybe he’s feeling a bit friendly today?

One can only hope.

Taehyung’s a stubborn man who doesn’t like to show you his weaknesses, getting rather upset and angry if you were to push his buttons because he’d rather be upfront and strong when he’s around you.

It’s dumb when you think about it but what can you do? He’s too stubborn to listen to your reassuring words otherwise.

As you round down the hall, a glimpse of a familiar structure catches your sight and your eyes are quick to brighten.

“Taehyung!”

He’s strolling down the hall, his formal wear a bit exposing his chest due to the bandages that wraps all around his right arm. He rests them inside his clothes, letting them prop up against where the belt of his formal wear resides, and when he looks up at your call, Taehyung’s hard expression doesn’t change.

“Taehyung, I have tea for—”

He turns to slide open his door and walks right in, slamming it closed without a word spoken to you.

Your heart falls at his refusal, tray almost tipping over if you hadn’t been quick to keep a steady grip on it before it can do so.

Another day, another rejection.

Maybe if you talk to Namjoon, he can get the man to open up, but Namjoon’s a pretty busy man as well. Hoseok, perhaps? No, everyone’s busy.

As you turn around to make your way back to the kitchen, you feel dejected at the events of things.

Guess I’ll just have to wait until Jimin and Jungkook returns. Which shouldn’t be long.

Your lips press together into a tight smile as you give yourself a nod, confident things will work out again soon. Taehyung will be bound to show his presence once Jimin and Jungkook returns, he’d have no other choice.

You can bombard him then.

You giggle thinking about it when someone calls your name.

“Lady Y/N!”

You turn at the call to find a familiar retainer walking up to you.

“Good afternoon, Chan. How can I help you?” You greet with a smile.

“Well actually, I’m here to give you this,” he says, presenting a small jar of something green and herbal.

“What is it?” You ask as you take the jar, eyes scanning over the dried leaves. “Tea?”

“Yes, they have quite the strong calming effect.”

“Really?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

“Yes. They’re quite rare to attain right now, my lady, but I know you love to seep tea ever so often so I’m sure it’d do you well to keep them rather than them staying with me.”

“No way, they’re that rare?” You gasp before looking back at him. “Thanks so much, Chan! I’ll be sure to make good use of them.”

“Of course, my lady.”

With that, you’re off to the kitchen in the annex that gives you personal space.

You set the tray you had in hand down onto a table before examining the jar you were just given.

Tea that has such a strong calming effect is hard to come by these days so you’re thankful to be given some and quickly get to work to begin seeping the tea leaves. While keeping your hands busy, a soft smile falls on your face as you think of your boys.

It’ll help them during this time and the other two ninjas will return soon so that’ll be even better.

You take a look outside at the gardens to find a cherry blossom tree just a few yards away, hoping and praying that maybe you will have time this year.

Just maybe.

“Surely this year will be the year,” you mumble to yourself as the tea is ready and take a small sniff of the content.

It smells like the forest, calm and crisp.

You take a sip of the drink and your eyes brighten at the taste.

“Great! Now to send it over to Namjoon and the rest.” You take a stand when all of a sudden, your head falls heavy and your vision begins to blur.

Huh?

“...mrmh.”

You try to speak but your throat constricts, each breath harder than the last as it begins to burn and the tray falls from your grasp.

Why can’t you speak?

Unable to get a grasp on what has been done to you, you rush to the inner kitchen where the maids and cooks should be, panic settling in your chest as your heart beats rapidly in ways you’ve never felt before. Something strange is happening to you, something painful, but you know you can’t just collapse right now, not before it’s too late.

Someone…help.

As soon as you hear the voices of the maids and cooks, the world pitches over one last time and your vision goes black. Needles of pain lance your arm, then your cheeks, and it is not until you feel the cold on them that you know you must have fallen.

Desperately, you try to move your arm, to drag yourself across the ground despite the fearsome cold that is overtaking you.

Namjoon!

But no matter how you scream for him in your mind, no words come out, and soon enough, you lose your consciousness completely.

“Hm?” Namjoon’s head jerks to the side. For a moment, it almost seemed as if someone was calling for him but the only ones in his chambers are Jungkook and Jimin who just returned from their mission, bowing forward formally with their lips sealed.

“Namjoon?” Jimin looks up, confused upon his Lord’s silence.

“Nothing, I just…I thought I heard something,” he says, brows furrowed in confusion.

Must’ve been the wind.

However, just as he is about to address the two ninjas once more, frantic footsteps race closer and closer to his door. Jungkook stands up to slide open the door, a frown on his face.

“Milord..! It’s Lady Y/N! She..she’s collapsed!!”

“What?!”

In an instant, the three of them are out the door like a shot, reports and business all thrown out the door as the only thing that falls on their minds are of you.

“I have done what I can for her, but now all we can do is wait and see what happens.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Taehyung stands with rage as he takes the collar of the doctor with the one hand that seems to still be working well. “Do something, dammit!”

The doctor trembles in fear. “I-I’m sorry, milord, but she is in a very precarious position. There is nothing I can do.”

“Taehyung, calm down, getting angry isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Dammit!” He curses under his breath at Seokjin’s words, throwing the doctor off balance with a forceful push before falling to the floor as he stares at your stilled body resting on the bed.

Seokjin turns to the doctor, sighing as he helps the man up. “Thank you for your help, you may leave now.”

“Y-Yes milord.” He doesn’t hesitate to rush out the door, almost bumping into the three who had just walked in.

Namjoon’s brows furrow at the sight of the doctor rushing away, knowing what he had just heard, and almost freezes at the sight of you lying in your bedding.

Your breath is shallow, or perhaps already gone, he cannot tell, with eyes sealed tight. You aren’t struggling nor do you look like you’re in pain, you’re just…lying there as still as a corpse, barely clinging onto life at best.

“What…happened..?”

“The maids found her unconscious near the entrance to your private annex,” Yoongi reports, a furrow in his brows. “She was brewing up some tea, probably meant to send it to one of us.”

“Tea?” Jimin asks, confused.

“It appears the culprit slipped poison of some sort, masquerading as a rare herb of sorts,” Hoseok states as he hands Namjoon the jar of the dried leaves.

Jungkook settles himself at your bedside, his eyes wavering as his hands tremble at the sight of you.

“What did the doctor mean by Y/N being in a precarious position?” Namjoon asks as he watches you from where he stands.

“Whether she lives or dies…is entirely up to Y/N herself.”

Silence fills the room as they can do nothing but stare at your still body.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Jungkook lays his hand against your cheek. He timidly strokes it, his strength gone at the feel of your skin, clammy and cold as if the blood has already frozen your veins. In spite of it all, the maknae breathes warmth onto his palms and presses them to your face, desperate to keep you warm.

Ah, so cold.

Why is it so cold?

You shudder at the feeling, teeth chattering uncontrollably as you hug yourself to seek some sort of warmth. Usually, your hanboks are enough to keep you warm but why aren’t they doing their job right now? Seokjin always made sure your hanboks are warm and filled when the weather gets a little too cold, always overprotective and looking out for your well-being.

Even during his busy times, he won’t ever forget to look after you.

But why is it so cold today? And so dark?

Something flies past you, a breeze, a warm breeze against your cheek, so you lean towards it, gasping lightly at the warmth.

It leaves for a moment then returns warmer than before, then slowly turns cold once more before the process repeats again and again.

No, you want it to stay. To keep you warm.

You take a step forward, reaching out, but nothing changes, so you run towards the warmth, desperate in your steps, until finally, something bright and white shines through the darkness of your consciousness.

“Y/N.” Someone calls you.

Huh..?

“Y/N.” It calls again.

The voice comes closer and closer as you run towards it, towards the light, until finally, you recognize its uncanny gentleness.

Jungkook..!

You open your mouth to answer him but for some reason, your voice refuses to leave your throat. All you can feel is the warmth against your cheeks, which you desperately cling to with little else you can do.

Why does he sound so sad? You can’t have that, you need to get back to him.

In an instant, your consciousness floods back, as if that warmth has yanked your body forcefully from the freezing water.

“..Y/N…”

When your eyes flutter open, right in front of them is Jungkook, his face close, terror and concern marking his features.

Jungkook? What’s wrong?

Your heart aches so keenly at the sight and as you open your mouth to call for him, nothing comes out, nothing but its shallow breaths opening and closing.

You can’t speak.

Terror fills you as you reach out to place your hand over Jungkook’s warm ones, and in an instant, his once lost and distant eyes come back to life as they greet you.

“Y/N!” He pounces forward in a gasp, the loudest he’s ever been with you, alerting the rest of the men in the room.

“Someone call the doctor,” you hear Namjoon command and feel a shudder through your veins.

Cold, you want to say, but nothing comes out.

Yet they seem to hear you as you feel Seokjin tuck the blankets up to your neck, a gentle hand coming to graze your cheek.

“You’re alright now, you’ll be alright,” he whispers as if casting a spell.

Someone takes your hands, breathing warm air into them, while someone else brings warmth with a touch on your forehead.

Ah, so warm.

It was the poison that took your voice away and unfortunately it won’t end there. According to the doctor, soon enough through the passing days, you’ll lose strength in your arms and legs as well, forcing you to remain at your bedside until eventually, the poison will take your heart if the antidote doesn’t run through the veins in due time.

You have a chance to meet death and you’ll do it in a slow, painful manner.

“Here, ah.”

Right beside you, Hoseok sits with a bowl of porridge in his hand, a spoon ready to feed you. You let him do the job, opening your mouth to take the food in before turning to your paper and brush to begin writing something down.

“I haven’t lost the strength in my arms yet. I can feed my own self.”

“Don’t be stubborn and let me take care of you.” You pout slightly and he laughs. “Seeing you like this almost reminds me of Taehyung. If only you could speak,” he says with a rueful smile as he reaches up to stroke your hair.

Not hearing your voice must be really hard on them as well.

Your brush dances over the paper again.

“Don’t you have a Clan to help run? You don’t have to stay here to help me, I’m fine on my own.”

“Y/N.”

“And if you’re that worried, my maids can help aid me so—”

“I’m not leaving your side,” he states, taking your brush away before you can write any further. When you’re forced to look up at him, Hoseok’s eyes are filled with concern and worry. “We’ll find the antidote,” he promises. “We’ll find it and things will return to normal again so please…please don’t push me away.”

You realize that he’s scared. Scared to lose you.

Chan had already taken his own life before anyone could get to him so your report on the matter didn’t matter so much. Currently, the castle is looking into his background, trying to find any link to anything, and although you’re not really sure what’s going on, something tells you they’re coming up empty.

Which is why every day, someone new stays at your side, taking care of you. They can afford one less person in the castle if it means staying by your side.

You’re doing okay for now but soon enough, they know you’ll lose the strength from the rest of your body if they can’t find the antidote.

They have to work fast.

A few soft knocks and in just a few seconds, the door slides open to reveal Taehyung in his usual attire.

He looks down at you with an emotionless expression. “What’re you doing walking around?” He frowns your way and when you beckon to the tea at hand, Taehyung lets out a sigh and walks back into his room.

This time he doesn’t close the door behind him. This time he doesn’t push you away.

A bit sad it has to resort to this but you take what you can get and follow him into the room, foot sliding the door closed before you walk on over to settle by his bedside. You set the tray down, seeping the tea in silence, before handing him a cup.

Taehyung takes it without a word, his stare piercing as he stares at you even while bringing the cup up to his lips.

“I didn’t poison it.” You bring a paper up as if it had already been prepared beforehand and he scoffs.

“I don’t take you as one brave enough to do that to me,” he mutters and you frown in response as if asking ‘what is that supposed to mean.’ He laughs inwardly to himself as he leans back into his bedding, body pressed up to the wall so that he’s still sitting as he drinks his tea.

You crawl forward to his side and he watches from the corner of his eyes as your eyes wander at the bandages on his arm.

A hand reaches forward, not before you look up to ask for permission. When he says nothing in response, you take that as permission and press a gentle hand on his injured arm. There is a furrow in your brows as you examine his arm, lips pouting slightly before you take something from your hanbok and show him another prepared paper at hand.

“Does it hurt?”

He shrugs. “It’s useless now.” Your eyes bulge out when he calmly sets the cup back down without saying anything further until you tug at his sleeve, begging him to speak more. Taehyung sighs. “I’ve permanently broken it so I can’t use it anymore. It still hurts a bit but the pain’s subsiding as if it’s no longer part of the body anymore.”

You sit there remaining in silence — it’s the only thing you can do — but when he observes your expression, it twists with pain and he sighs as he sits up straight once more, hand reaching out to wipe away the tears that have fallen.

“This is why I didn’t want you around. I knew you’d cry seeing me in pain.” You cry more and he frowns. “I know, I know, but I was going to eventually let you in once my body decided to no longer associate this arm as a part of them.”

“Stupid,” he sees your lips form out those words and chuckles ruefully.

“I get it, I get it. Now stop your crying.” Taehyung wraps his one arm around your figure and pulls you in close so that you can let your tears soak his bare chest. He gently strokes your hair as you cry silently into his chest until you can no longer cry and the tears have worn you out.

You lay there in his arms, body rested up against him, eyes falling a bit sleepy. Even then you keep your eyes open because you don’t want to sleep just yet. With your brush and paper off to the side, you use your hand to write invisible letters upon his chest.

“Stupid.”

He laughs. “I know, you’ve already told me that.”

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“If that’s all you’re gonna write, I’ll kick you out.”

You look up at him with a disbelief stare, mouth gaped open before you huff and turn to leave his arms. If he doesn’t want you here then you’ll give him just that.

“Wait– oh come on, I was kidding,” the ninja says as he pulls you back in with his overpowering strength. You can’t compete with that, how can you ever? “I promise I won’t kick you out so just stay a little longer, alright? It was getting a bit lonely here.”

You look back up at him with a narrowed gaze before opening your mouth. “Stupid.”

Taehyung sighs and you press a hand to your mouth as your shoulders tremble.

He watches the smile on your face, missing the way it was so easy to hear your giggles resounding into the air. But right now he can hear nothing. Nothing at all. All that is are your pleasant smile, a hand over your mouth, and trembling shoulders.

No sound of music to his ears.

He misses your voice but he doesn’t say it, knowing you have it tougher than he does.

In the silence of the night, Yoongi lays on your lap, eyes closed as nothing is heard except for the cicadas. You sit on the veranda, his warm overcoat draped over your shoulders as you play a soft tune on the flute.

Your voice may have been taken away from you but that doesn’t mean you can’t blow wind into the flute. So you play it softly for Yoongi, knowing just how much it relaxes him.

“Y/N.” When you hear him call for you, you stop playing in order to look down at him, a questioning tilt to your head. Yoongi opens his eyes, staring at nothing before him as you run your hand through his hair. “Are you afraid?” He asks and you pause in your ministrations for a moment.

Admittedly, you give him a nod before returning to play with his hair.

“Right, of course you are.” When he says that, his field of vision suddenly turns dark as you lean forward to press a kiss on his forehead, as if telling him that it’s alright because you trust them. You’re afraid because it’s a natural thing to feel during grave times like this, but you trust them nonetheless.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night and you smile gently, mouthing the words back to him.

Jungkook watches you steadily from the back as you stroll through your garden, a soft smile on your face with a spring in your steps. You haven’t lost strength there just yet but he still worries as he keeps his eyes on you, ready to catch you if you were to fall at any moment.

When you turn around to catch his attention, he’s at your side in a split second. It’s gotten so quiet between the two of you now that you can’t talk. Jungkook’s a quiet man, after all, and you always filled up the silence but even though your voice doesn’t work as it normally would, the things you do as if you can still speak makes up for the silence.

You point down at a bush of flowers, mouthing out “ready” for him so he hunches over at the flowers, taking out the pruning shears that you weren’t allowed to hold because they didn’t want you to accidentally get hurt.

You crouch down beside him as you point to one of the flowers and he gets ready to cut the flowers but not before you tug at him to grab his attention.

When Jungkook looks over, you have a paper with instructions written on how to properly cut a flower off its stem. He reads them thoroughly, turning to the flowers to put them into practice with you guiding him along the way.

One after another, he cuts and cuts until you have seven flowers in your hands.

When he sees that bright smile on your face as you hand him one of the flowers, Jungkook knows he’s done a good job.

“For you,” you mouth out the words and he takes it in his hand.

It’s beautiful, pretty, though not as pretty as the smile you give him. So these flowers were grown for them. You took care of them so diligently that he always wondered why. When he brings the flower up to his nose and looks at you with a soft expression, he wishes he could hear your laughter resonating through the gardens.

As you and Jungkook walk through the halls of the castle with you holding onto the six remaining flowers, you hear loud voices coming from somewhere down the hall.

Familiar voices.

“What the hell do you mean you’re going to march there yourself? You’re still healing, Taehyung.”

Brows furrowed, you look up at Jungkook who meets your eyes, his expression hard to read but you both know the voice belongs to Namjoon.

“I’m doing this for Y/N!”

“You’re doing this for yourself! Stop being selfish and stand down. If you march there now, you’re bound to fall into the enemies’ trap once more. Think logically, Taehyung.”

“Do you think we have time to think? We’re running out of time.”

“I know but if you just barge right in there, we’re not only going to be losing one of us but the rest of the Clan as well. I can’t risk that.”

Suddenly the doors slide open and Taehyung, who had opened the door abruptly, freezes at the sight of you who’s standing right in the doorway and silence fill the room.

Face still marked with anger, Taehyung lets out a noise of frustration before walking out the doors and down the hall, not caring to calm down even as you stand there, watching after him.

You look up at Jungkook who gives you a nod and heads down the hall to catch up to the older man.

“Y/N.” You look back into the room as Namjoon calls your name, his face filled with fatigue and exhaustion but even still, he flashes you a pressed smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You walk into the room, sliding the doors closed as Namjoon settles himself back behind his desk, eyes concentrating on the tasks at hand and as you watch him, you can feel your heart aching at the sight of his weariness.

He looks so tired yet he’s still doing all that he can to find your antidote.

When he feels your presence beside him, he puts the paper down to turn your way. “What is it?” He asks and when he finds the flowers you have in hand, Namjoon gives you a small smile. “Are those for us?”

You nod.

“How pretty,” he says when you hand him one. “They’re the flowers you grew in the garden, aren’t they?” You nod. “I hope Jungkook helped you cut them and you didn’t do it yourself.” Another nod and he puts a hand on your head, ruffling it gently. “That’s my good girl.”

You wish you can help him in other ways but this is the only thing you can do for him as your heart aches, him not being able to keep the conversation up while you sit there frowning, hating the fact that you can’t do anything more.

War is coming soon.

They’ve found the story behind who Chan was associated with and it links right back to the mission the three maknaes had been dealing with for some time now. The same people who took Taehyung’s arm away poisoned you.

As you sit there in your room, you stare at your hands which seem to hurt a bit whenever you would flex them. Soon enough you won’t be able to hold a brush and write to them. Soon enough you won’t be able to walk.

But for now, you can still do things moderately.

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon gazes down at you with concern as he takes the hand you had been flexing. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head in response, putting on a smile for them.

“You can tell us if something’s wrong, Y/N,” Jimin says as he pulls up from your other side, his eyes kind and gentle.

You’re scared.

You’re scared because they have to leave soon, off to the battlefield in hopes of taking that antidote from the enemy, but who’s to say how much time you have left?

War doesn’t take a day or two. It takes weeks, months, but do you have the time?

When you take the brush into your hand, ready to write down your every worry, your every concern, you suddenly find yourself stopping.

You can’t.

If you tell them, they’ll worry and it’ll cause them more grief than relief.

“Y/N?”

“What’s wrong?”

The more you worry, the more concerned Namjoon and Jimin look, even reaching up to stroke your hair.

I’m scared, you want to say but don’t have the heart to. You hate the fact that you can’t speak but take their hands and meet their gazes.

“What is it?” Namjoon prompts.

They look so exhausted.

You take up your brush again, intending to tell them that you’re alright, that they don’t have to worry too much, but that in itself is a lie and even though you don’t want to tell them the truth about your feelings, you also know that you can’t lie.

They don’t deserve that.

But you also don’t wish to tell them all it is that is in your heart. You’re scared, terrified, and time only seems to be speeding up. Even your own hands are slowly beginning to lose their strength and soon enough you’ll be forced to remain lying in bed.

Your body feels so weak.

The brush refuses to move, leaving a dark blot of ink in the center of the paper.

“If you have something to say to us, it’s alright, just tell us,” Namjoon whispers against your hair, pressing his hands against your shoulders. Even that gesture alone threatens to tear you apart so you set your brush down, and look at him again. “Mmn. What is it?”

His voice sounds so gentle that whatever it is that’s happening seems like the stuff of nightmares, fading into obscure nothingness.

You wish you could fix all of this, that time would reverse back and you hadn’t been foolish enough to take the dried tea leaves Chan had given you. You wish him and Taehyung weren’t fighting, you wish you could make it all better.

It’s your duty as their lover to make sure the relationship is alright again once a fight breaks out between any of them. But, even when you open your mouth to speak, the words refuse to come.

You’re only growing weaker and weaker by the day and you’re scared to lose any of them. What if they don’t get the antidote in time and it strains their relationship? You don’t wish any of that to happen.

“Namjoon.” You want to call out his name, to make it all better, but there is nothing but silence. “Namjoon…”

Gently, his hand moves to rest against your cheek as Jimin takes your brush to set it down, then Namjoon lightly kisses you.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know what you want to tell me, Y/N.”

You feel Jimin’s hand on your other cheek and nuzzle into his warmth. They embrace you so tightly it almost hurts but if it means being in their arms is the last place you’ll be when your eyes close forever, you’d rather it hurt forever.

War council ends today with a tense atmosphere as the retainers all leave the main hall with grim expressions on their faces.

What remains of the room are your seven boys and just as Taehyung is about to get up and leave, you walk right in to steal their attention.

“Y/N? What is it? Do you need something?” Seokjin asks when they all look your way.

You present them a piece of paper, flashing it in front of you with a smile.

“I want to see the cherry blossoms,” it states. They notice the change in the font, lines a little more squiggly than usual, some of the letters faint, some more bold, and when they find your features marked with such a serene and calm expression, how can they say no to that?

“Careful, you might trip.” You look up at Taehyung with a slight pout and he rolls his eyes. “If you run off and fall on your knees, I’m not picking your ass up.”

“It’s not like you can with your one—”

“Oh, you wanna bet?”

You quickly shake your head with a silent laugh and instead take his hand despite his words, running off further towards the cherry blossoms which stand in a straight line, creating a beautiful path of pink petals right in between. The brightness in your face shines as you let the wind flow through your hair, loving the feel of the cherry blossoms against you.

When you shudder slightly at the cold, Namjoon has an overcoat draped over your shoulders, his hand gentle as he strokes your head.

“Don’t be too reckless now.”

You nod happily at his orders and quickly rush off elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone in silence.

“Seems someone’s finally found her smile. Do you really love the cherry blossoms that much?” Hoseok asks as he takes a petal from your hair while you look down, writing something despite struggling a bit.

“I love you spending time with you all more than anything.”

“Ah, so that’s what this was about?”

“The cherry blossoms are pretty though.”

“Of course. Though not as pretty as you.”

Your face flushes with red as you glare up at him. “Hoseok…” You word out and he laughs.

A harsh breeze passes by, causing a flutter to the pages of your paper so you hurry to press a hand on them, making sure they don’t fly away, but in doing so forget the overcoat over your shoulders as it flies off into the wind.

Oh!

You gasp inaudibly and turn on your heels to reach out and grab for it before it can get even further when suddenly you feel pain in your legs.

“Y/N?”

In the next moment, you fall on your knees, papers and brush falling into the wind, too weak in the legs to remain standing and in a split second, they’re right at your side.

“Y/N-”

You hunch over in pain as tears prick the corners of your eyes, a sharp needling pain stabbing at your legs. Terror crawls over them at the sight of your silent tears crying inaudibly.

Seokjin picks you up without effort and as they begin to head back with you in his arms, in spite of the pain jabbing into your legs, when you lay against the strength of your oldest lover, you can feel his body trembling in fear.

Namjoon sits behind his desk, elbows propped over as his hands intertwined right in between, his leg jerking with anxiety.

They have yet to hear news of your wakening. You’re still breathing, still alive, but for how much longer? There are only two days left before they have to march to the front and it’s a relief, it’s a relief because soon he’ll have the antidote in hand but even then, he knows it will take some time before he finds it.

War doesn’t last for a few days after all, so once he leaves, will he even be able to see your eyes again before he returns? And what if it’s too late by the time he returns? What happens then?

He’ll be marching off to battle without having to see your precious eyes again.

Maybe he could hold it out for a few days, wait for you to open your eyes again.

No. He can’t.

He can’t delay it any further because he has to get the antidote.

The antidote.

“I’ll stay.”

Namjoon looks up at the unexpected voice, his eyes widening a bit as he stares at Taehyung who had just spoken those words. “..What?”

“My arm will hold us back anyway, so I might as well take over the duty of protecting the castle,” he states, eyes falling off to the side. “I haven’t trained hard enough with one arm to walk into the battlefield ready so just let me stay. It’ll be better than leaving Y/N alone.”

Namjoon hesitates for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the younger one nods. In his eyes, there are regrets of not getting himself out there to train harder but even then, he falls determined to remain defending the castle and staying by your side while the rest of them marches off to the battlefield, fighting upfront to obtain the antidote to cure you.

Seeing that determination in his gaze, Namjoon nods. “Alright.”

When you wake up again, there is no one but Taehyung in the room, his back leaning against the wall as his head turns to the side, eyes mindlessly looking out the window. It’s a gentle breeze but still, you shudder and he’s quick to look back with widening eyes.

“You’re finally awake,” he breathes as if he had been holding his breath for some time now. When Taehyung walks over to your side with worry marking his features as he tugs the blanket more up your neck, you wonder how long you’ve been unconscious to make him look like that. “How do you feel? Are you alright? Do your legs hurt?”

You shake your head lightly but frown when you realize you can’t feel them nor can you feel your hands.

You can’t move them.

“What is it?” He asks when you look as if you’re about to burst into tears at any second.

“Hands,” you mouth, and with a solemn expression, Taehyung takes your hand from underneath the blanket to give it a gentle squeeze.

You sense the touch it just the tiniest bit.

Where are the others? You want to ask as you look around, frowning at the lack of presence in the room. Are they busy preparing for the war? But then why is Taehyung here in his usual wear without looking the slightest bit busy?

“They’ve already marched to battle,” he answers your unspoken question, causing your head to quickly jerk back with a flash of alarm in your eyes. “You’ve been unconscious for a week, Y/N. They wanted to stay until you opened your eyes but…your antidote takes priority.”

No.

They’ve gone.

They left without saying goodbye.

You didn’t get to say goodbye nor did you send them off as you usually would. What if something happens to you? What if they’re too late? You’ll never get to see them again and the last time you ever saw them was during the cherry blossom viewing where you had collapsed and Seokjin carried you back home.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t look like that.” You feel Taehyung’s gentle hand against your cheek. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see them again,” he says, a promise made to the wind. In spite of how afraid he is, he still smiles for you, a gentle smile so soft and sweet you can hardly tell it’s Taehyung for a moment.

Why do you look like you’re about to cry?

You want to reach out, to hold his face, to comfort him, but your arms won’t move a muscle and as you struggle against your inner thoughts, Taehyung wipes an unknowing tear that had fallen from your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Everything will be okay.”

Terror wants to take control of you but Taehyung doesn’t let it. It’s as if he knows, as if he understands your frustration to want to help him, so he pries open the blankets and crawls in. It takes some effort because of his lost arm but eventually, he wraps his arm around you, a gentle kiss pressing to your forehead.

“You don’t have to cry anymore, alright? I’m right here.”

You look up at him as he wipes away the tears that are blurring your vision. You press a kiss to his collarbones then lean up, wanting to kiss him.

Taehyung chuckles lightly because you can’t reach up so he leans in to give you the honors.

It’s a gentle and sweet kiss, one you wish you shared with the rest of them before they left.

“Why am I getting a report that you aren’t taking your meals?” When Taehyung walks in through the doors, his expression is hard and grave. You can sense the anger in them but turn from his glare to look off to the side.

He takes a moment, breathing in slowly before letting it out in order to calm his nerves.

“Y/N,” he sighs, and takes the porridge from the maid’s hand. She excuses herself without a word, closing the door behind her as she leaves, while Taehyung sits himself on your bedside, a frown in his expression. “Do you not have an appetite? Is that why?”

When you don’t answer him, he puts the bowl down to take your hand. “Look at me, please. Please, Y/N.”

With the desperation in his voice, you turn to look at him, pouting slightly while he looks at you with fear in his eyes. “Tell me what I can do for you,” he says, voice barely audible as he squeezes your hand, his head lowered. “How can I help, Y/N? What can I do? If you won’t take your meals, I…how is your body going to heal?”

It won’t heal, you want to say, not without the antidote.

“Please Y/N…please eat. Please? For me? The boys are out there fighting to get your antidote. Don’t you want to welcome them back with a smile?” He sounds so desperate, filled with so much pain as he watches you from where he sits, hating himself for not being able to do anything for you.

Your heart aches as you look at him, knowing just how much he’s blaming himself, and it’s during times like this when you wish you had a voice the most. You want to reach out and tell him that none of this is his fault, that he has no control over this, but you can’t.

You can’t.

So you let him help you up, let him press your body up to lean against his chest. He’s careful when he holds you, letting you use his body for support, as he reaches out to grab the bowl of porridge.

It’s hard because he has only one useful arm but he makes it work. He rests the bowl on his dead arm, steadying it carefully so that it doesn’t fall, while using his other one to hold the spoon.

“Eat for me, yeah?”

You open your mouth to let the spoon in, tears falling from your eyes, your heart aching, and despite how much it hurts to see him do this all for you, you open your mouth for all the spoons he feeds you until there is nothing left in the bowl.

When you finally finish, the bowl clatters to the floor and he lets out a sigh, letting his arm press against the floor behind him so that he can lean his weight onto it.

You rest there in his arms as he lets you listen to the beat of his heart. In the silence of the room, Taehyung presses a kiss to your head before resting his cheek right there. It is only until you fall asleep again does he let his own tears fall.

He doesn’t remember doing this for quite some time now. When was the last time he cried? Probably years ago, before he even met you. It’s been so easy to let his walls build up, sealing his heart from others, shutting you out even when you thought you were already in.

He wishes he hadn’t pushed you away so easily. He wishes he showed you more care, more love.

Why is it during the most crucial moments when people realize their mistakes all too late?

He wishes he had more time.

You struggle in your sleep once more, a retainer rushing to the private of his chambers where he sat behind his desk, looking over some documents. The second his attention is called in concern about you, Taehyung forgets the papers and rushes to your side.

You awake the castle once more in your wake of suffering and as you whimper and cry in your silence, he can do nothing but watch as the doctor tends to you, doing all that he can to at least postpone some of your sufferings.

When are the others going to be back?

“Feeling a little better now?” Once the room clears out and it’s no one but the two of you, Taehyung sits by your bedside once more, stroking your hair gently as he looks down at you with dark bags under his eyes.

You nod tiredly from where you lay and open your mouth to speak. He reads your lips so easily now.

“Is there any letter?” You ask and he reaches into his pocket to take out a piece of folded paper.

“We haven’t gotten any personal letters from anyone but the messenger stated that things seem to be going well for the time being. Maybe we’ll hear from them soon.”

“I want to see the cherry blossoms.”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Sorry darling, but they’re gone now. Summer’s in just a few weeks.”

Summer? Already? It feels just like yesterday the eight of you were walking under the cherry blossoms.

“Next year?”

He puts the letter back into his pocket to take your hand. “Yeah,” he squeezes, his voice soft and tender, “let’s go see them next year and the year after that, and the year after that. Until you tire of the cherry blossoms.”

“I won’t tire of them.” You shake your head and he chuckles.

“Then, we’ll keep seeing the cherry blossoms until a thousand more Springs to come.”

You nod in response, a sleepy smile resting on your face.

“Go to sleep, you deserve it after tonight.” You feel his hand stroking your cheek when your consciousness slips away.

“Y/N. A letter’s come.”

Your eyes light up. “Letter?”

“That’s right. So eat well, alright? And then we can read it together.”

You never get to read that letter, because halfway through your meal, you’re throwing up the contents, body trembling hard as your face scrunches up in the same, familiar pain he’s seen on your face during so many nights.

We’re coming home.

Taehyung reads the same words over and over again and the more he reads it, the more his vision blurs to keep him from reading any further.

You’ve lost consciousness once more, having yet to wake even after three days. He had wanted to wait to read the letter with you but being as you have yet to open your eyes, he decided to go on to read it by himself.

The words Namjoon displays should have relieved him, to release the tensions that have been weighing heavily on his shoulders ever since the moment you had first lost consciousness, ever since they left him alone to care for you. Working around the castle all on his own while taking care of you is a hard task but he doesn't regret ever offering himself to Namjoon when they knew they needed someone to stay at the castle for you.

They’re coming back, finally, meaning they've gotten ahold of the antidote. He sits there in your room, the windows closed because you’ve gotten much too sensitive to the cold. It’s Summer but even then, your body temperature doesn't get any better. Your breath is shallow, barely there as you lay in your bedding, body as still as a corpse, almost like the first time they saw you when you had initially taken in the poison.

But unlike that time, it almost feels as if you really won’t open your eyes again, as if he’s losing you, as if he’s already lost you.

“Milord! They’re back!”

With a glance your way, Taehyung takes a moment before rushing out the doors, his feet taking him faster than he’s ever run before.

Once he’s right at the entrance of the castle gate, he can see the horses from afar, running straight for him with Namjoon leading the herd.

Ah. They’re back.

They’re actually, finally back.

“Taehyung!”

“Taehyung! How’s Y—”

At the sight of the ninja’s tears, they freeze up in an instant, breath held against their throats, hearts as frozen as ice.

“Go,” he whispers. “Go before it’s too late.”

They rush to your room where you lie, eyes closed, body frozen in place with a moving beat. At the sight of you, they can instantly tell why Taehyung was so frightened he had cried before them, something he’s never done unless the situation was actually grave.

But you’re still breathing.

Still breathing.

Namjoon takes the antidote out and carefully spills the blue liquid in between your lips. Your face is as cold as ice when he touches you, trying his best to not let the antidote pour out.

“You’re going to be okay now, my love. You’re going to be okay,” he speaks in prayers, a wish made unto the heavens.

They hope they aren't too late.

“Y/N?”

You feel a gentle hand grazing your cheek, one that you haven’t felt in a while. It’s warm and tender, filled with strokes of love as you feel your eyes slowly opening. Once your vision comes into view, you find Namjoon right above you, his brows arched with relief and anguish all the same.

Why are you crying? You want to ask.

“Hey, little darling, finally awake now, are you?” Jimin plays with your hair, his fingers gentle upon your head.

They’re back, you realize, but they don’t seem to be in their armors so maybe it took some time for your body to gain consciousness once more? The last thing you remember was throwing up the meal the maids had prepared for you, happily eating for some time because you wanted to read the letter that came for you and Taehyung.

You never got to read the letter.

How many days has it been since you lost consciousness?

It doesn’t really matter now does it? Because you’re awake now and feel a bit lighter on your body.

“How do you feel?” The doctor asks you moments later once they give the two of you space so that he can examine you.

You open your mouth to try and speak but still, nothing comes out.

“Seems it will take some time for you to regain your strength, my lady. Can you feel your legs?” You shake your head. “How about your hands?” You shake your head again.

“Has the antidote not worked?” Yoongi asks, his voice filled with worry.

“It’s working well, my lord. Her face is already regaining color as you can see, but you will have to give it some time before the lady can move again.”

“And her voice?”

“It may return with time. For now, make sure she takes her medicine and rests well. She will have to do some physical training on her body once it regains its strength but make sure she doesn’t push herself too much. Unfortunately, her body will remain weaker than before as a lasting side effect of the poison but that shouldn’t hinder her from doing her usual activities. Just make sure she doesn’t ask too much of herself.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Hear that?” Seokjin turns to you when the doctor leaves, his smile soft. “You’re okay now, love.”

You’re okay now.

You’re okay.

“Were you scared? You must’ve been so scared. But everything’s alright now so there’s no need to worry about anything else.”

“Welcome home,” you mouth and their expressions soften.

“Mmn. We’re home.”

1K notes · View notes

dwntwn-strnlo · 11 months

Note

Could you maybe do a male reader for nick, like, him introducing the reader to matt and chris for the first time and being all flustered?

The nick boys thank youu!

POTATO SALAD nicolas sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. the restaurant is based off of a 50s themed diner in my area and its so fucking cool and i wanna go again but it was so expensive so me writing about it will make me happy and i can manifest me going again

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. nicolas sturniolo x masc!reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. request!

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? yes!

hopping out of the car, excitement ran through your bones. and then utter fear snapped them right in half.

a draft of realization swifts through the street and hits you hard. you and nick have been going out for a few weeks now, but your still yet to meet his brothers. let alone any of his family for that matter. but now, you are.

you stand outside the 50s themed diner, chasing your hands nervously through your hair. worry presents you as you think about the possibility of matt and chris not taking a liking too you. so as you fix your hair, the only thing you can think of is if they hate me at least ill look fucking amazing.

pulling out your phone, you decide texting nick that your here is the best idea to get rid of the annoying jitters. to your surprise, he responds almost immediately, and rushes out of the building just as fast, if not faster.

"hey," he smiles, skidding to a stop in front of you. "nervous?"

you shrug. but its no use, your incredibly nervous and nick can see right through you. i guess that's what you get when you start dating your best friend; they know everything about you.

nick lightly frowns, reaching his hand out to soothingly rub your arm. "matt and chris are gonna love you." he giggles when you roll your eyes, squeezing your shoulder before dropping his hand. "at least you'll get a feel of what my parents are like, in a way."

you furrow your brows at the slightly shorter boy, "dont even start about me meeting your parents." you huff, sticking your hands in your pockets. "your brothers are scary enough and they are literally knock offs of you."

he smiles, a small laugh escaping his lungs as he reaches his hand out for yours. "man up, kid," he giggles. "im hungry as fuck."

amusedly rolling your eyes, you take nicks hand in yours. only to be quickly dragged into the diner.

walking in, your immediately welcomed by the timey atmosphere. there's a red radio sitting on the checkered counter gently playing various songs from elvis presley, buddy holly, and aretha franklin. the sweet sound of their recognizable voices drifting into through your brain as you gawk at the large mural on the wall. the wall consists of large hand painted pictures of marilyn monroe, elvis presley, and a few other celebrities of their time.

the energy of the diner easily cools down your nerves, distracting you from the oncoming hours. but its only for a few seconds until nicks voice rips you away from your haze.

"well, here they are!" he mumbles, making you turn to look at his two triplet brothers. you cant help but notice how flustered nick had gotten within the last 20 seconds. too, nervous of introducing you to his life long best friends.

matt stands up with a smile, reaching out to dap you up. "im chris, nice to meet you bro."

ah. you've never personally spoken to them, and nick mustve assumed you knew who was who, because you have it flipped around. mixing names with faces, assuming matt was chris, and that chris was matt.

never have you been more grateful to not speak your thoughts out loud. if you called chris by his brothers name, you would've turned around and left. left the country if you will.

"yeah, you too." you smile, dapping him up aswell.

the real matt stands up and leans over the table, giving you an unintentionally awkward side hug due to his position over the table. "matt, nice to meet you." he smiles.

"you too," you repeat, maintaining your smile. desperately trying to hold it and not look like an idiot.

"so," nick says through nervously clenched teeth, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes dart between you and his brothers. you meet his gaze and his eyes are wide with panic. skin flushed a soft pink as the nerves run through him.

you want to comfort him, but that's near to impossible when you seem to be just as nervous as he, maybe even more. you hate seeing nick freaked out, but what can you do?

you smile lightly, if you can't verbally comfort him you can at least try and play the part of being calm and not on the verge of an absolute freak out. he searches your eyes quickly before turning to his brothers.

they both flash you and nick reassuring grins, sensing your unease.

sucking in a shaky breath, you sit down first. the triplets following your action and immediately breaking out into questions.

clearly they have been holding off because they ask you things that you figured nick would've answered already. like when the two of you first met, did you have any classes together in high school, and so on. but that made you feel a little better. they wanted to ask you these questions themselves, and not from another person.

you slowly eased into the conversation, answers to random questions coming smoothly unlike they did a few minutes ago. seeing your tension slip away, nick eventually stopped staring at you making sure you were okay. your comfort made his comfort welcomed again. you getting along with his brothers was the one thing he had been most worried about since the four of you scheduled this.

once the waitress finally makes their round and ends up at your table, you all make your orders. she leaves, and your quickly bombarded with questions again.

nick's laugh rings through the air, immediately fueling your heart with warmth as he smiles. "guys, lets chill out. this isn't an interrogation."

chris teasingly rolls his eyes, "can i just ask one more question? please? this will be the last one i swear to god."

nick shoots a glance at you, checking if you had any input on this. you just shrug your shoulders in response. honestly enjoying the attention as much as you hate to admit. he huffs, "last one."

"okay," chris giggles, putting his hands together. you turn to look at him, waiting for him to go on. "me and matt gotta know. how's your moms potato salad?"

"chris." nick hisses.

matt and chris immediately break out into laughter. not having any idea what they mean, you answer truthfully.

you smile, "i love her potato salad."

"uh oh," matt giggles. eyes comically widening as he puts a hand up to hide his growing laughter. he turns to look at chris and they share a look, resulting in more laughter.

nick turns to face you, a look of annoyance sitting on his face. "ignore them."

his remark only makes you seem to laugh too. at this point, you have no idea what your laughing at. nick stays expressionless for several more seconds before he cracks and smiles too, playfully rolling his light eyes.

A/N TWO ; i hate potato salad im honestly w nick on this one #top10biggestfears

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jamneuromain · 2 months

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Wishful Thinking Epilogue

Andy Barber x You (Reader)

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, age difference, cheating, explicit language, TW: Assault/Attempt murder

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

“Doctor Ashner, please come to Ward 507. Doctor Ashner, please come to Ward 507…”

The buzz of the overhead speakers startles you a little, but you quickly shake it behind you as you figure out which direction is the E.R. From there, it is fairly simple to ask a nurse where is the most recent Uni-stabbing victim.

The nurse points towards the end of the E.R. hall, “That one, with the curtains shut. We had just finished stitching him up.”

You reply with a “thank you” as you head in his direction, taking in a sharp inhale as the smell of blood and medical alcohol puts your nerves on edge.

Slipping through the blue surgical curtain, you see Andy Barber lying on the hospital bed, one of his arms bare, with a stitched-up wound that looks like a centipede carved onto his flesh.

He must have sensed you, for he opens his eyes, his gaze landing on you, and he manages a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Standing uncomfortably almost with needles under your feet, you point to the corner of the bed, “May I sit?”

“ ’course.” He moves his legs for you to make a bigger space to sit.

You both fall into a cloud of silence, suffocating you.

His other arm, the arm that is not stabbed, explores little by little, finally taking your hand in his.

Your gaze falls to your joined hands.

You did not move away.

An awkward silence fills the space. Though you are in a hospital with medical staff a curtain away, Andy feels like being in court, watched by thousands of eyes and awaiting the judge to deliver the sentence – awaiting you for your conclusion … or whatever it is that could define this relationship, and he firmly believes with a large percent of probability, that you would execute the bond between the two of you.

“I-uh,” you struggle with words, clearing your throat for good measure, “How are you feeling?”

Andy’s gaze lands on his arm. The wound looks hideous. But he barely felt a thing while being stitched up. “They gave me something, some anesthetic spray of sorts.” He explains carefully. It is bad enough you found out about Laurie and his lying, he doesn’t want you to add “junkie” to the list of “Things that Andy Barber might have done to irritate you”, “The nurse said adrenaline helped. But – um, the pain would come up when the chemicals start to fade.”

You let out a small “Oh”. Then silence dawns upon you again.

For you, you don’t know what to say; for Andy, he has his mind full of things to say, but he has no idea how to start.

But clearly, the silence bothers him more than you, because he could not stand a second more with this suffocating atmosphere. Andy sits up a little, before confessing to you, “I am sorry. I truly am. For this mess. I am divorcing Laurie, and she’s …” Realizing he’s speaking ill of his soon-to-be ex-wife again, Andy changes the subject, “We are both not really happy with this situation.”

“How long?” You choose not to look at him, but rather at your hands.

“Sorry?”

“How long-” You inhale deeply, preparing yourself for the harsh answer he is about to offer, “have you and Laurie been together?”

“… Ten years.”

You truly know how to grasp the key point of this conversation, Andy thinks to himself.

“Ten-” You sound both surprised and angry, which is fair. He probably deserves your anger. You stop yourself from bursting out the curse on the tip of your tongue, “And you’re divorcing her, why?”

“There are … several reasons.”

“Well, name one.” You snap at him. Quickly gathering your emotions together, you clench your teeth from bursting out again.

Andy nods. He definitely deserves it.

“She’s cheating on me.” Andy adds, “Twice.”

Good. Because he’s surely not a cheater. But you bite that back, “I see.”

He calls out your name, but that doesn’t bring your eyes towards him, only making your hand escape his grasp, “Give me a chance, please, I promise I’ll make it right.” He whispers, close to begging, “Please don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. The past weeks have been miserable...”

To which you would snort, but you try to be as expressionless as you can.

“… I need you. I haven’t felt …” His voice sounds broken, “happy, for a long time. I’m a terrible person and I know it. I shouldn't have started yelling the last time we met. I’ve said … vile things. They were mean. I apologize. I know I cannot say this enough, nor ask for your forgiveness because -” He smiles bitterly, “I deserve it.”

“I accept your apology.” You take great courage in saying this, “That doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you’ve done. I need time to process my feelings and you as well.”

He whispers your name under his breath.

“I don’t think we should see each other.” The name “Andy” gets stuck in your throat like a log, paining you to say the rest of your mind, “And don’t – not this time – don’t use tricks or whatever, trying to apologize again, or come knocking at my door, or say hello even if we bump into each other. Just…” You shake your head lightly, “I need you to give me space, and vice versa.”

“Okay.” He murmurs, “I promise.”

“Do, not promise, okay?” You can’t help but be reassured. Because you know, with one more look from his direction, or one more word, your heart would undoubtedly leap his way.

“Okay.” He looks up at you, carefully asking, “Can I still like your Instagram posts?”

A rush of laughter comes unexpectedly out of your throat.

You smile, “Yeah, you can like the posts, but … don’t comment.”

He speaks your name one last time, as you get up from where you were sitting, gaining your attention. The syllables escaped his perfectly full and pink lips, hooking your heart to beat for him again.

I love you. He manages a smile, “Take care.”

“You too.” You once wished him to get hit by a car, but getting stabbed is somewhat getting even from your side. And now you wish the best for him. Wish the best for whatever works out for him.

You run into him in the Starbucks near the Sackson House two months later. The semester is coming to an end, and you are reading a few dozen papers to write your research proposal, which you’ve settled on discussing a book of YA fantasies based on one of those boring literature theories.

You are sitting beside a small table in the back of the shop, relieving yourself from prying eyes and busy customers in the front. With music playing in your ears, your attention focuses on the dragging on criticism of fantasy novels in the pdf file, without noticing a man standing next to you and pulling a small notepad out of his pocket.

He scribbles something and puts the sticker on the table.

May I join you?

That captures your attention. That familiar writing with the y tilting towards the right.

Andy. You let out a soft sigh, inching your gaze higher to take in his warm radiant smile and the beard. The beard that you dreamt of chafing your skin even after your brief conversation in the hospital.

God, you miss him. In more ways than you could have imagined.

All sounds stop. All living beings cease to exist but him.

“Yeah, um, seat’s empty.” You gesture towards the other side of the table, stumbling on your own words.

“Hi.” He takes the seat, placing his coffee on the table, and his backpack near his feet, “Hope you don’t mind.”

You would prance on him. Just fall into his embrace that you know would be burning warm. Your fingers itching to connect themselves to his hand.

“I-uh,” Andy scratches the back of his head, “wanted to tell you I got what I deserved, really. It’s not – I was – I want to tell you that you won’t be seeing me anymore here.” He glances around the coffee shop.

You meet his eyes, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Due to the whole Laurie incident,” Andy sucks in a breath sharply, “the Uni held a panel for this … thing, and they could not tolerate – well, my situation.” He chuckled drily, “In short, we have come to terms with the mess and the university required me to resign by the end of this semester and I’ve found a job as an associate professor for Boston University. I’ll be working for BU by the start of the next semester, so…”

It goes without saying that you won’t be seeing him anymore.

“I’m sorry to hear this.” You chew on your lower lip, fidgeting with the straw in your cup, rather than focusing on his face and his sad smile.

“Yeah, no – um,” Andy shakes his head in the smallest of motions, “BU is closer to my house anyway, only about a five-minute drive.”

“Congratulations, then.”

“… Went on a court too.” Andy blurts out before you say anything else, “My lawyer filed for a restriction against Laurie from approaching me – she’s had … some sort of mental illness, taken to a nursing facility in Baltimore by her parents since the judge ruled for a divorce.”

“That’s … nice, I guess.” You murmur, unsure whether the twisted feeling at the bottom of your heart is supposed to be joy or sorrow.

Now that he’s a free and single man, it doesn’t make much sense if he would continue to dwindle on you or your failed relationship, does it? But you are happy for him, truly, for getting what he wanted and a better job offer – BU is more famous than the one you are studying at, which probably comes with better benefits and a greater chance if he one day wants to earn tenure.

“Well, this is it.“ He sighs.

“This is it.” You repeat what he says, almost mechanically, afraid to look into his eyes again.

Coward. You tell yourself, only a coward would be fearing a proper goodbye.

Because deep down, you know that when you look into the pool of blue, you would see nothing else than fierce, determined love, that insane obsession of gravitating you back towards him. Or the more devastating sight: the lack of it.

What’s worse, you can’t think of a reason to stop yourself from being pulled in his direction.

You should hate him, along with the horrible things he had done to you – you still do, but you can’t shake off the fact that even though the relationship had been toxic to some extent, you always forgive him easily. Because you love him.

“Speaking of,” Andy searched his bag, before placing a small velvety box on the table, “I have something for you, and I would like you to have it.”

He pops open the box and reveals its content to you: “It’s uh- something I wanted to give you two, three months ago when we were -” He stops dead in his tracks. Clearly, he meant that “when you were good”, but he skips this part of his speech, “I know that our relationship is over and it has most certainly gone beyond the point of salvaging, but I’d still like you to have it.”

Your gaze roams over the expensive diamonds that form a ring as a pendant of the necklace.

“Andy, this is…” You shake your head. It’s too much. The gift is too much. Too expensive. Too shiny. And too painful to remind you that Andy believes he needs to move on as well.

“It’s a day collar.” He interrupts your unfinished sentence, “And I want you to have it no matter what you decide, whether you want out or - ” The sad smile makes its way to his face again, “I guess it’s not quite possible that you still want me after all … this.”

“You know that this Laurie incident would be an eternal trust issue that lies between us if we, on a hypothesis, get back together, right?” Your jaw ticks, burying your face in your hands subtly.

“Yeah, I understand.” He replies in a low voice.

“And you also know that the stabbing – one of us is bound to feel guilty towards the other, and my conscience is eating me up?”

“Yes.” He whispers your name.

“This is really fucked up if we get back together.” You put down your hands, and push the box in his direction, emphasizing, “Really, really fucked up.”

“I know.” He could barely manage his smile without forcing it, “I’m the most fucked up factor.”

You close your eyes. You must be fucking loco after hours of reading papers in a small confined space. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Why do you have to like him? Why?! There are fucking 3.5 billion males on Earth and this is what you choose? This one is the one that your heart desires?

How can you be this stupid? How can your heart turn a blind eye to all the hurt and bruises, the tears and cries?

You can almost hear your heart sniggering in response.

Andy, however, interprets your sanity just fine.

“You don’t want to see me, I get it.” He slowly gets up from his seat, pushing the box back to you as he does so, and buttoning up his suit jacket.

“Sit.” The word leaps out of your clenched teeth like a fucking world-class Olympic gymnast. You are mad. Mad as hell, both at yourself and your traitorous heart that crushes itself onto your ribcage at every beat, “I’m not done.”

He lets out a quiet “Oh” and sits back down, hands over his knees like an irritatingly good pupil in class.

“You – ” You start, but words hide from your tongue faster than an alphabetical monster chasing them to the end of the world, “I - ” The sheer frustration of not being able to form a complete sentence in front of this man you both hate and love washes over you. For Christ’s sake, you have wanted to prepare a full speech when you meet him again to slam that into his face since you are living perfectly fine on your own, no man needed. Not a single male creature was needed in sight.

But you crave him.

And you were probably going to regret your decision decades from now, but hey – at least your heart wanted it that way.

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard…” You seethe, “I can’t – I can’t live without you. I don’t know how to deal with this, want you and hate you at the same time. I just can’t.”

His sane brain is urging him to leave, because that’s what’s best for you, for him, for you both. His sane brain is screaming not to bring you any trouble.

“If you betray me like that again, swear to fucking God I’d run you over with my car.” Your hand curls into a fist on the table, adding to your previous threat, “Twice.”

His emotions, on the other hand, lock the sane part of his brain up with heavy ropes and chains, throw the key over the fire and dance in triumph.

“We should start over. Get this past behind us.” A sincere smile makes its way to his lips. He leans forward, a flash of watery sweeps his eyes but just as quickly, he blinks it away, grinning, “Hi. I’m Andy. I’m working as a professor in English Literature. Pleased to meet you.”

You shoot a harmless glare in his direction, and an eye-roll, “I’m fucking pissed off and I’m going to work on my dissertation. Unless you have something that desperately needs to come out, don’t utter another word before I finish reading this one.”

Andy shrugs, “Well, since you’re working on your dissertation, you know I’ve still got some connections with my colleagues and we could surely put in a good word -”

“And for the thousandth time, I said no.”

You nearly growl this time. To which Andy smiles.

That smug bastard thinks he can shortcut the way to your heart by allowing a teensy bit of bias introduced to the grading of your work.

“You wish.” You murmur under your breath, ignoring the way how he not-so-subtly places his hand over yours, and enjoying his coffee with a dazzling grin.

A/N: Finally! The main story of Andy/Reader is finished! I'm so happy for all your support and love for this story. There are a few drabbles/one-shots that are still in progress for this series, but in general, it's complete and I hope I can see you in another story <3

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