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deepdarkdelights · 3 years

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Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you.

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands.

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day.

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after.

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch.

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often.

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open.

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning.

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure.

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips.

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes.

Fuck, and now you were crying again.

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you.

It was time to start celebrating then.

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better.

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic.

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection.

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose.

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again.

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up.

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead.

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway.

Someone was in the house.

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds.

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger.

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand.

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall.

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century.

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths.

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress.

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back.

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed.

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler.

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words.

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen.

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line.

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees.

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing.

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on.

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it.

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago.

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure.

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight.

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area.

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come.

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well?

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work.

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours.

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself.

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more.

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead.

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him.

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone.

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside.

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door.

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.”

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club.

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him.

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you.

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest.

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare.

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before.

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night.

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day.

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help.

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider.

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you.

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you.

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were.

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?”

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically.

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused.

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated.

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before.

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now.

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era.

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt.

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question.

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you.

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state.

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest.

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone.

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you.

It was him again, the man with the dimples.

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you.

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone.

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident.

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside.

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people.

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up.

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation.

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream.

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows.

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!”

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment.

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung.

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins.

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained.

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims.

That was too close of a call for you.

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim.

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked.

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted.

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease.

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back.

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door.

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut.

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months.

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment.

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.”

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway.

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master.

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content.

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study.

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted.

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room.

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk.

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you.

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading.

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain.

He made you uncomfortable.

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin.

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head.

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have.

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine.

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.”

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes.

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest.

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?”

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right.

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh.

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?”

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent.

That could have been you.

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him.

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head.

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on its surface.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?”

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was.

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him.

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on.

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin.

“We have a deal.” He confirmed.

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger.

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer.

“And what will we do in the meantime?”

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End.

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were.

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void.

You assumed.

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself.

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of.

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped.

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire.

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning.

Usually.

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark.

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down.

It was the call of your name that made you freeze.

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you.

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand.

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence.

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp.

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect.

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault.

No matter what you do, someone will die.

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed.

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet.

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you.

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.”

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.”

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow.

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him.

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time.

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details.

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm.

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one.

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin.

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study.

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you.

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds.

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind.

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief.

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left.

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had.

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place.

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth.

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you.

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble.

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides.

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained.

“Alright, what can I do?”

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area.

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared.

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?”

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often.

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way.

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise.

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it.

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said.

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing.

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air.

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent.

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak.

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined.

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying.

Namjoon was calling your name.

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him.

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest.

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you.

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket.

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him.

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying.

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you.

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon.

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before.

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place.

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them.

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage.

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster.

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster.

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you.

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once.

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be).

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin.

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist.

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.”

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes.

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.”

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot.

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis.

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions.

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation.

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.”

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind.

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough.

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession.

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless.

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone.

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was.

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all.

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback.

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you.

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook.

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him.

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own.

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish.

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?”

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom.

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed.

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up.

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?”

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all.

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End.

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night.

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake.

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out.

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that.

Oh, if only you did.

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up.

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified.

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone.

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you.

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse.

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley.

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips.

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form.

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.”

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest.

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered.

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch.

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face.

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open.

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly.

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand.

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness.

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.”

#bts #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #yander #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #bts fanfic #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #bts rm #rm x reade #yandere rm x reader #jack the ripper au #victorian au

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 9) - Inner Demons

Summary: The reader meets Gen for the first time while the boys are having a day together. But when they come home early and Jensen overhears the reader, a very big discussion about what they both expect out of their relationship has to happen...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Skinny Dipping

Word Count: 5,100ish

Warnings: mature (language, skinny dipping, implied future smut, angst, self-doubt)

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo

________

“No,” whined Zeppelin as Jensen carried him out of the bedroom for the third time that night. “Daddy, I want to sleep with you.”

“Zeppelin. You gotta be a big boy and go to sleep. It’s midnight and way, way past bedtime,” said Jensen. He started to cry loudly and Jensen set him down. “Do you want a time out? I’ll give you one first thing in the morning if you don’t behave.”

He ran over to you and grabbed your leg, burying his face in it. Jensen sighed, tired after a long day and you knew he needed some sleep. You squatted down and Zeppelin grabbed at you, shaking a bit. You frowned, Jensen catching it as you picked up the little boy.

“He can stay,” you said. Jensen made a face but you carried him into the room, Jensen grumbling to himself. You let Zeppelin crawl into the middle and immediately grab his father when Jensen got under the covers. He was asleep quickly, Jensen kissing the top of his head. “He’s scared.”

“He had a tantrum. He’s four,” whispered Jensen. “He needs to sleep on his own or he gets dependent.”

“You’re his father. He’s already dependent,” you whispered. “He’s a little you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means he missed his daddy and he has been the one telling his sisters for three weeks daddy’s coming home soon. I don’t care if he sleeps in our bed, Jensen. Sometimes he has to be a big boy but not tonight.”

“He was very...he’s very much me,” he said quietly, fixing the blankets over his son. “He’s in tune with other’s emotions.”

“I know,” you said. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“When I was a kid, around seven or so, my dad went out to LA for about two months for work. We didn’t have the money for him to fly back and forth so he drove out there. He would call every night but it was long distance and it was expensive back then so all I got to do was say hi to him really. Somewhere in the middle of the two months he drove back to visit for a weekend. I was so excited. So, so excited. I was gonna tell him all about school and my baseball games and the jumping contest my brother and I had on the swings. I was so pumped. He said he was gonna be there Saturday morning for breakfast. Well, I wake up, run downstairs, he’s not there. Lunch rolls around, he’s not there. Afternoon snack time rolls around…”

“He’s not there?” you asked, Jensen nodding. “What happened?”

“Never left LA. Got in a car accident. He was fine but this was the eighties and my mom didn’t get a phone call until the afternoon saying he wouldn’t be coming home. I thought a hundred million things in my head of why he wasn’t there. That achy pit in your stomach. When he finally came home a month later, I slept in their room, in their bed. That little achy feeling went away after that night. I know how much he’s like me,” he said, lightly running his fingers over Zeppelin’s head. “But I gave him that part of me too and I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s too little to worry about me.”

“He’s okay and he’s not gonna worry after tonight. But Jensen, there’s nothing wrong with him having that part of you. It’s a really good part, the part that loves the people he cares about. Right now he doesn’t understand it but someday he will and that’s going to make him a person people will be fortunate to have in their lives. That’s a great part of you he got.”

“Just have to go and make me feel better, don’t you,” he said softly. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Think I’m doing an okay job at this?”

“Yup,” you said. Zeppelin turned over in his sleep, smashing his face into your arm.

“You care for them,” said Jensen. You nodded and he burrowed down into the sheets. “Because of me or your job?”

“It always helps the job,” you said. “When you nanny, you want the kids to feel comfortable with you and caring about them always makes that easier. But I don’t...I don’t like them because I decided I liked their dad, you know?”

“Why did you then?”

“People with money sometimes let their children get raised by that money and you can tell when it happens. But it’s so obvious that doesn’t happen with them. They have nice toys and clothes and things but they’re good and funny and smart and they could very easily be brats if you went the easy route but you didn’t and it just shows. Sure they’re kids and they can drive anyone to the brink of insanity at times, but they got big hearts, especially for dad. I just like them and seeing them grow into those people more every day.”

“Me too,” he said, Zeppelin rolling back, fisting his hands into Jensen’s shirt this time. He smiled and you leaned over, kissing him goodnight, pecking one on Zeppelin’s head. “Night.”

“Night Jensen.”

The next afternoon when you arrived at Jared’s house you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Jared and Jensen were off doing who knew what and you felt like you’d been set up on a playdate yourself. You’d dropped off the kids there more than once already and knew their kids but for some reason or other you’d yet to meet Gen. You swallowed as you followed the kids around the side of the house, the three of them taking off to go play with their friends on a swing set. You looked around and bit your bottom lip, fixing your bag over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” called a voice. You turned and saw a woman behind you, a bit sweaty in some workout clothes. “Hey. I’m Gen. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks. You too,” you said.

“Come on,” she said, waving you to follow her up some steps to a patio. “Tom! JJ!”

“We know!” they shouted back from the swings. She shook her head and sighed.

“Not that any of the little ones can get over to the pool anyways but I want to remind them to keep an eye on the younger ones when I’m inside,” she said, showing you to a patio door. You followed her inside, Gen walking into a kitchen and going straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of cold water.

“They have hair like their dad,” you said.

“Yes, yes they do. Getting them to get a haircut is like herding cats,” she said. She gulped down her water and let out a deep breath. “Do you mind if I shower quick? Time got away from me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you said.

“There’s a bathroom right around the corner there. Feel free to take whatever from the kitchen if you want. I’ll be back in ten,” she said.

“No problem,” you said. When she was upstairs you went back outside, leaving your bag in a patio chair. You went down the steps and watched the kids running around for a moment before exploring their backyard. “Here I thought your backyard was nice Ackles.”

“Y/N, will you play tag with us?” asked Arrow from over in the grass.

“How could I say no to a face like that?”

Fifteen minutes later you were warm and taking a break under the patio again out of the sun, the kids playing on the slide and swings now.

“Remember when we had endless energy like that?” asked Gen as the back door opened.

“Barely,” you said, a margarita glass set down in front of you. “I see we’re going to be very good friends.”

“It’s so hot out today,” she said, setting a pitcher and another glass down on the table. She poured you a glass and then herself one before taking a seat beside you. “I bet the boys are out jet skiing.”

“They really are like a pair of children when you get them together,” you said.

“Yeah but it’s cute. Most people don’t ever get to have a best friend like that,” she said. “Sometimes they need their space from each other but Jared’s literally been counting down the days until Jensen gets back.”

“I don’t think Jensen will ever stay away that long again. He missed his family and friends. Home,” you said.

“We’re glad to have him back. He’s been gone for a while. Even before you went to Canada,” she said.

“Were you good friends with...” you asked, Gen nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“It sucked. Still does,” she said. “When the boys were off, we could hang out. We got very close. After the accident I was the one taking care of the kids, helping his parents and family with their day to day. Jared focused more on Jensen, helping him physically get back to normal and then mentally. But you know how he was when you met him.”

“I know a lot of work went into helping him get there. I’m very grateful he had you guys,” you said.

“Listen...I’m hoping we can be good friends too. It was different for me and Dee. We both were dating the boys around the same time, got married around the same time. I know we don’t have that and...I just hope we can have that relationship still.”

“Me too. I know we’re probably gonna be seeing you guys a lot now that neither of them are working,” you said.

“Probably most everyday,” she said. “They’re like twins separated at birth or something I swear.”

“Has Jensen always been a bit quiet?” you asked.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen that boy drunk off his ass and being a troublemaker but he’s always been that way. Maybe it’s why he and Jared fit. They’re protective of each other in different ways. Jared’s the loud one out of the two of them, always has been and Jensen, even if he is your best fucking friend, sometimes he’s a little bit quiet.”

“I figured as much. He’s just…”

“Gentle,” she said, a smile coming to your face. “You two are pretty serious, huh.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s been five months. I’d say it’s serious. You move in yet?”

“Technically I’ve always been moved in,” you said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “Yeah. We’ve gotten to the sharing a room stage very recently.”

“You must be very special then,” she said. “He was never gonna fall in love ever again. Told Jared and me himself. Now he’s as lovestruck as the first time around.”

“I’m not expecting…” you said, sipping on your drink. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Like I said, we can be friends without the boys,” she said. “What aren’t you expecting?”

“This,” you said with a shrug. “Marriage. Kids of my own. I don’t know where it goes with Jensen.”

“You should start having those talks with him,” she said, your head shaking. “You have to, just so you’re on the same page.”

“I don’t even know if we’re reading the same book,” you said. She nodded and you slumped back into your seat. “I know I love him and that he loves me. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“A friend once told me that’s all you need,” said Jensen behind you. You turned around and Jensen was standing there, a sad smile on his face. “We wanted to come hang out with you guys. Y/N?”

You got a smile from Gen as you followed Jensen inside, Jared slipping past and out back. You crossed your arms and looked down, Jensen stepping close to you, large hands resting on your arms.

“Why don’t you think it’s enough?” he asked quietly.

“It is. Gen and I were just shooting the shit,” you said, forcing your gaze up. He slid his hand down and took one of yours, pulling you over to a quiet sitting room. He sat down on a day bed, you going with him.

“Honey. Tell me the truth.” He ran his thumb over the back of your hand as you crossed your legs. “Did I do something?”

“No. You’re perfect,” you said, glancing down to your lap. “All I was saying was...I don’t know where you stand on some things.”

“Like what?” he asked, still smiling softly, hiding all of the nerves underneath it.

“Kids. Marriage. The fact your family has never once met me or knows I exist. Am I just gonna be the nanny girlfriend or is there something more? I love you. I fucking love and I don’t need or want...I just want to know if you’re open to those things.”

“I don’t know,” he said. You nodded and moved your hand back into your lap, Jensen letting go of it. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “Like I said, we were shooting the shit.”

You were both quiet before you stood, Jensen grabbing your hand. He pulled you back to sit, plopping you straight down in his lap before kissing you.

“Okay I do know but the answers fucking scare me,” he said. “I said I was gonna stop being scared when it came to you.”

“Jensen, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I would have more kids if it were with the right person. Preferably sooner than later but yes. Yes, I would marry again. Yes, I would introduce her to my family and yes they do know about her. Not as much as I’d like but they do know her. And lastly yes, I am open to more than just the nanny girlfriend, so much fucking more. All of it more. But that scares me that almost a year later here I am, open to all of those things, wanting those things with you when losing Dee hurt so much. It’s not fair to you that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, simple and normal and just the fun parts. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to stop loving her. God if you ever did, I don’t think you’d be the man I love. I just wanted to know if there’s room for a future in there maybe,” you said.

“You kinda got in there all on your own and I don’t want you to ever come out,” he said.

“Ever?” you breathed out. “Cause that implies-”

“If someone’s gonna be that second person for me, I think…” he said, looking down. You rested your forehead against his, Jensen taking a deep breath. “I know you won’t wait for me forever to get my shit together.”

“Well, forever’s a long time. I can offer a few years at least?” you asked, Jensen laughing dryly. “What?”

“I don’t deserve a few years. Your emotions aren’t a toy to play with.”

“Yours aren’t something to drag along when they’re not ready.”

“See? You do that shit. You always do that fucking shit,” he said, his voice a few octaves higher. You wrapped him up in a hug, feeling a few drops of wetness hit your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“For crying? Jesus Jens, it’s okay,” you said. “I promise it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I keep tossing you around like you don’t have feelings too, like this isn’t hard for you too. It’s always me and my fucking problems with just…”

“Just what honey,” you said, Jensen holding onto you tightly, chin resting on your shoulder.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you said, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want this to go away,” he mumbled out. “This is it and I feel like I’m gonna explode and-”

“Shush,” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his whole body as much as you could. He stilled briefly and calmed down some, sniffling to himself before you released to a gentler hold on him. “Just the anxiety talking.”

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head up, looking you straight on. “I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you and do everything with you. I’ve known those things for a very long time. Longer than you have and before you even thought of them as questions. I want all that and you’re gonna get stuck with me, with this, with the never ending baggage, with the baggage you haven’t even seen yet. All your life is gonna be is taking care of my ass and you getting hurt because of it. Is that what you want? Is it? Because I want so much fucking more for you than me.”

“Was that your proposal speech?” you asked calmly. He blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes.

“What? Y/N I-”

“Well you said you want to marry me and yeah, I fucking want to do that with you too so was that your speech?”

“What?” he asked so innocently you smiled. “I don’t…”

“I happen to like taking care of your ass. So. You want me gone, I’m gone. You want me to stay, I’m staying forever. What’s it gonna be?” you asked.

“Stay,” he said quietly with a nod. “Please don’t go away from us.”

“Okay,” you said. He leaned forward and kissed you, sniffling some more when he broke off. “Are you…”

“I can’t believe I just asked that while I’m covered in tears and snot,” he said. A box of tissues suddenly flung itself through the doorway, landing near your feet. You stared down at it and started to laugh, Jensen chuckling while you picked it up. “I’m never living that down.”

“Who gives a fuck,” you said. You took out a tissue and wiped off his face and eyes, having him blow his nose a few times. “That’s really gross.”

“I know.”

“Must be how you know it’s meant to be,” you said, wiping your hand off.

“Stay forever?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah that sounds good.”

“Me too,” he said. He pulled you into a hug and you held him tight, the door sneakily shutting on the two of you when it started to pour outside and you heard the backdoor. “I bet that’s how you imagined that going.”

“I never thought it would happen,” you said. “Not when I first came here. Love’s for other people. Normal people with normal families.”

“Fuck normal,” he said and you laughed. You picked up a clean tissue and licked it, wiping off a dried tear streak on his cheek. “I feel good.”

“We’re gonna work on that bottling shit up stuff, okay?” you said.

“Maybe you’ll have more success than Dee did,” he chuckled.

“I’ll just have to build off what she started,” you said. He nodded and cupped your cheek as you finished cleaning him off. “There, all better.”

“Guess you’re out of a nanny job,” he said.

“Oh such a shame,” you said. “I’ve been putting my paychecks for the last while to a separate account.”

“I did notice that,” he said. “Saving for something?”

“Wanted to give it back to you.”

“Honeymoon fund instead?”

“Okay, now we’re talking,” you said with a laugh.

“You never did tell me how much your book deal got you.”

“I signed a multi-year deal. They think there’s great potential for it to be one of those series every kid reads. One million for around twenty books?”

“Fuck. You should be my agent if you can negotiate like that,” he said.

“I’m still gonna take care of them like I have been,” you said.

“I know. It’s probably going to be a million times harder now actually,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “You love them.”

“Yes but I don’t know how to be a parent.”

“Just do what you’ve been doing and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll change but it’ll be good.”

“Not really how I was expecting today to go,” you said.

“Me either. I had hoped for that to be a tad more romantic,” he said. You gave him a kiss and hug, Jensen returning it. “You don’t care.”

“Nah,” you said. “Just care about you. Everything else, I’m good.”

“Want to go share the news with our eavesdropper?” he asked. You helped him up to his feet and took his hand, walking out of the room, Jared and Gen suspiciously wiping down their kitchen counter. “Or should I say eavesdroppers.”

“We were concerned and I swear we left after Jared tossed the tissues in,” said Gen. Jared shook his head and pointed at her. “I swear he did it.”

“Guess you guys heard then,” said Jensen, giving you a smile. “We’re gonna give it a shot.”

“You okay?” asked Jared. Jensen nodded and squeezed your hand. “You sure?”

“I know what I want,” said Jensen. “I’ve known for a long time. Finally got over being scared is all.”

“She wasn’t gonna hurt you,” said Jared with a smile.

“I know. It was a different fear,” he said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Promise.”

“You better not, sweetheart.”

It was dark by the time the storms had passed, all three kids going down easy after spending most of the day running around the Padalecki house. You sat on the balcony off of Jensen’s bedroom in the oversized lounge chair, Jensen sat on the other side of the small side table your drink rested on.

“I’ve never been on a boat before,” you said, staring up at the dark night sky, the only light coming from a few string ones Jensen had turned on.

“Never?” asked Jensen. “Better wear your life jacket tomorrow then.”

“You better wear your life jacket,” you said. “We both know I’m a better swimmer than you.”

“You’re a better swimmer than me? Me?” he chuckled. “No way.”

“Put your money where your mouth is. Five bucks says I’m a better swimmer,” you said. He waved the way towards the door and you stood up, walking downstairs and outside.

“Uh, you missing something?” he chuckled. You smirked and pulled off your shirt and undid your jeans, shimming out of them and leaving them by the patio. “You really think…”

“I really think what?” you said, tossing your bra at him, leaving your underwear behind. You jumped in and swam out to the deep end. “You’re already losing Jensen.”

“Losing my ass,” he said, taking off his shirt and jeans, nearly tripping as he hopped out of his boxer briefs. He jumped in nearby and swam over to you, dunking his head under briefly. “I could get used to this look.”

“Nothing you’ve not seen before.”

“Never seen my fiance naked before,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes but swam over and gave him a kiss. “I knew you had a thing for dorks you know.”

“Did you now?”

“Told me yourself. Not a fan of cocky guys I recall.”

“Well...a little cock is okay. Highly recommended in fact,” you said.

“You are such a loser,” he laughed.

“I must have learned it from you.” You giggled and swam back to the shallow end, Jensen lazily chasing after. “I’ve never skinny dipped until just now actually.”

“Got anything on your bucket list you want to try out?” he asked. You shrugged and took a seat on a step, Jensen settling in next to you. “Naked trounce on the trampoline?”

“Maybe another time,” you said. You leaned back and looked up at the dark sky once more. He reached over and held your hand in the water, playing with it quietly. “Skydiving would be cool. Space would be cool.”

“One of those is a lot more feasible than the other. I noticed up in Canada where we had more stars at night you really like looking at them.”

“Did it a lot as a kid. Kinda always have,” you said. “I like space as much as the next gal but it’s just pretty, you know? You’re one little speck out in all of those stars. It’s all so freaking complex but you can kinda look up at them and it’s just so simple too.”

“Yeah,” he said, toying with a strand of hair floating in the water. “I get that.”

You turned and found him staring at you, a smile on his lips.

“We could go camping sometime, see all the stars there are up there if you’d like,” he said.

“We don’t have to do that,” you said.

“Why?” he asked quietly. “I’m curious is all. It seems like something you’d really enjoy seeing.”

“What purpose does it serve though? It’s not something fun for the kids to experience,” you said. “It’s a waste of money.”

“It doesn’t have to have a purpose. It’s for you, for us. A night away where you get to see something most people don’t ever get a chance. That’s the only purpose,” he said. “Camping’s about the cheapest thing you can do. Don’t worry about the money. You don’t have to worry about that ever again.”

“I just don’t want to go camping,” you said. You looked down and swallowed. “I used to go camping with my dad a lot.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do that to me,” you said. “I just...I don’t think I ever want to go again.”

“Okay. Would you go camping with me sometime?” he asked.

“Jensen-”

“Just me. No body else. I won’t even touch you except to cuddle,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “Thank you. It won’t be scary this time. I promise.”

“Is your dad nice?” you asked. He leaned back against his elbows and nodded. “Does he know about me?”

“My parents know I have a girlfriend. My mom knows I was getting pretty serious about you,” he said.

“Do they know I was the nanny? Or how old I am?”

“No. My siblings do but not my parents,” he said. You sat up and wrapped your arms around yourself in the warm night air. “I’m not embarrassed of you Y/N. I think that’s a conversation better had in person is all.”

“You haven’t told them because you think they’ll have a problem with it,” you said.

“Not as much problem as when I say I’m not having a prenup,” he said. You turned your head and saw him smiling back. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you completely.”

“Jensen I don’t want to cause a problem,” you said. He shook his head and you sighed. “I know how close you are with them and you haven’t gotten to see them since Christmas. I know exactly what they’re gonna think of me when they hear about the former nanny.”

“You don’t seem to understand yet that you? Nobody is more important than you and those three in there. If they can’t accept you then screw ‘em.”

“Jensen.”

“I’m not worried and you know why? I love you and you love me. I know they love me a whole lot too so you’re on the same side.”

“You’re a bad liar,” you said. He sat up and sighed. “Jens-”

“I don’t know how they’ll act. But you deserve a chance and that’s what I expect out of them. I want them to love you too but at a minimum you’ll have their respect.”

You nodded and sunk down in the warm water, Jensen sliding over and taking a seat on your lap, tossing his arms around your shoulders.

“You still talk to Dee’s parents right?” you asked. He nodded and wrapped his legs loosely around your waist. “Do they…”

“No,” he said quietly. “They deserve for that to be an in person conversation too. They’re coming up soon for JJ’s birthday soon. I figured I’d tell them then.”

“I’m glad you still talk to them,” you said. “They still see you guys.”

“Christmas was hard last year. I’m not sure which one of us got it worse,” he said.

“I’d like to meet them if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I’m not sure how they’ll react honestly.”

“I’d still like to,” you said, stepping out into the water with him, Jensen hanging off of you. “If only you were this light normally I’d carry you around all day.”

“Didn’t we agree a long time ago you were the badass princess after all,” he said, bumping his nose against yours.

“Here I thought you’d be taller,” you teased, quickly kissing him.

“Little shit,” he grinned. He nuzzled your cheek and you let out a deep breath. “Don’t worry about them.”

“At least we don’t have to go through this on my side,” you said.

“Can I ask one thing of you?”

“What?”

“Ray, your mom’s boyfriend, did things end badly between the two of you or you just drift apart? You said you left when you finished high school.”

“I stopped talking to him awhile ago. I moved out at 18 when I got my first nanny job. He was dating his wife Sarah by then. I’d come over for dinner every few months for a few years. By the time I was twenty one they were married with two kids. I didn’t go one time and kept putting it off and Ray told me it was okay if I didn’t want to see him anymore. I could call him if I ever needed him, that sort of thing. I haven’t spoken to him in nine years. But that’s not asking something of me, is it.”

“Can we consider inviting him to the wedding?”

“Been engaged eight hours and already planning?” you asked.

“I don’t know him but he had a part in raising you. Just consider it is all I ask. And wedding? Those things take fucking forever to plan, trust me.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, spinning him around in the water. “Are they really that complicated to put together?”

“Nah. Don’t go bridezilla on me is all,” he said.

“Total diva over here,” you said, feeling the edge of the shallow end start to drop off with your foot. You spun around one more time before you had to set him down, Jensen taking the chance to pick you up and toss you out of of the water. “Jensen! I’m naked!”

“I know. It’s awesome,” he said, swimming out and kissing your cheek. “Wanna race?”

“Winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser when we head upstairs?” you grinned.

“Oh, you’re so on.”

______

A/N: Read Part 10 here!

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

prince!san; arranged marriage au

word count: 10k

angst, fluff, smut

request

tag list: @minbinwhore

“y/n, honey... they’re here.”

the reluctance in your mom’s tone is obvious and you’re happy to hear it, watching her through the mirror as you sit at your vanity and brew.

brew with anger and frustration and disgust that not even the sweet smile of your mother can stop.

because how could she have allowed this?

your father, you understand - you expect nothing less from a power hunger man who only cares about himself. about ways to get ahead in this horribly corrupt system, where he doesn’t care how he hurts and effects the lives of anyone.

but her, how could she honestly allow her only daughter, her only child for that matter, to be married off like this?

when they sat you down a month ago, they made it seem like a blind date.

mentioned that a friend and colleague of your dad’s from a neighboring kingdom had a son around your age. that he was handsome and kind and the perfect man that hundreds of girls wanted to be introduced to.

but when you hadn’t jumped up in excitement at the opportunity, because apparently they don’t know you at all, they had dropped the bomb on you.

that the ‘opportunity’ they were giving you wasn’t much of a choice at all - the merging of the two families would guarantee peace and unity between the two kingdoms because nothing brings together two groups of people better than a mutual respect and admiration for love.

quite frankly, it seemed like a bunch of bullshit to you.

because really?

there’s really no other way to do that than stripping you and this random man the freedom to choose your spouse, something fairly important in a person’s life?

“no, y/n, there’s not,” your dad had said, all stuffy and posh as he sat at the head of the table. “and your attitude is very disheartening.”

“sorry sir, forgive me for not wanting to be pawned off like some trophy because you two can’t do your jobs properly.”

your mom’s eyes widened upon hearing that, her chastising yelp of your name falling on deaf ears.

because that’s when you and your dad erupted into a blow out fight, per usual, him questioning how you were raised in a household like this and still could be so foul.

you met him back tenfold, asking him why it was your duty to ensure the safety of his people.

that maybe he should change his ways or views as a leader and find the problems within himself; but your tone was all too conniving and snippy to be genuine, your dad pounding his fist on the table causing your eyebrow to raise.

“they’re coming here next month and you’ll be married within three,” he growled, his voice commanding and strong like the big tough guy he is. “you’ll show nothing but respect to choi san and his family and at least pretend you’re a proper lady.”

“do i look like a proper lady, mother?” you asked now, turning around to meet her tight, sympathetic gaze.

“y/n...”

“no, please, tell me,” you say, getting up with a slight wobble from the uncomfortable heels and bone-crushing corset. you cock your head to the side with a raised brow, hoping the puffiness in your eyes is gone from the last two nights of tears of frustration.

“i wanna know if i’ll be worthy enough for my husband.”

your mom grabs your arm before you can push past her, turning you gently to meet her gaze.

if you weren’t so mad and annoyed at the situation, you’d see the sympathy and defeat in her eyes. that she probably tried to fight for you when she saw that you didn’t want this but was overruled by your authoritarian father.

“san is good, y/n,” she said softly, rubbing your arm up and down gently. “he’s sweet and does so much for his people. i wouldn’t have agreed if it was anyone else.”

but because you’re about to meet a stranger and plan your wedding, a wedding you don’t even want, you can’t find it in yourself to take her words to heart or feel comforted by them.

“thanks mom, that’s really nice of you.”

“sweetie, i-”

you shake your head and make your way down the stairs, hearing the booming voices of your dad and, presumably, your future father-in-law. you see the two men talking and bow politely, putting on a soft fake smile you always wear in front of other people.

those are the rules: act like a lady in front of people but be your obnoxious, foul self at home, in the privacy of the castle walls.

the older you got, the less you were seen by the public.

it had been something everyone noticed and no one knew why, figuring you started to value your privacy more and wanted to be kept out of the public eye, but really, it was because the more you aged, the wiser you got.

the more you saw how much corruption and bullshit happened within this system and what little choices you were given - like this, for example.

like how even though the boy standing next to his father is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, with kind eyes and a small, dimply smile, you didn’t meet him by fate.

you’re meeting him because his last name is choi and it’ll (apparently) be good for the kingdom’s prosperity.

“ah, here she is,” your dad says, a tight expression on his face as he addresses you. you make sure to give them your brightest smile as you bow your head and curtsey, raising your voice a few pitches as you introduce yourself.

“this is my son san,” the older man tells you. “i know this is a strange situation but i’m hoping you guys can get to know one another and find that, maybe, something this crazy just might work.”

“of course it’s gonna work!” your father exclaims, like the man had said something absolutely preposterous, “it’s a guaranteed way for success. for both of us.”

it takes every muscle in your body to keep the sneer off your face at his proud, boastful smile.

you don’t miss the way san stiffens next to you nor do you miss the way his father’s eyes narrow at yours.

“well that’s true but i meant for them as well. this is a marriage, after all,” the older man says, his eyes softening the slightest bit as they land on you. “hopefully they can like each other as people and it won’t be a wasted relationship.”

you have to stop your lips from quirking into a genuine smile because okay, maybe they’re not bad after all - but the idea still irks you and you still hate this.

just because the man seems to be decent doesn’t make this okay. jesus, the kid hasn’t even said a word to you yet.

“how ‘bout you guys go talk?” mr choi says, his eyes moving to your father as if to prompt you two where to go.

“yes! y/n, show him the courtyard,” he says, eyes tight and screaming at you to behave. you nod your head at your father before looking at san, instructing him silently to follow you.

“of course father,” you say softly, voice high and sweet as honey before you turn to mr choi. “we’ll be back. nice meeting you, sir.”

your back is tense as you walk through the castle and out to the back, smiling at the workers you pass by before making your way into the garden. the vast land is green and colorful, with daisies and roses lining the awfully showy statues that have resided here for centuries.

“this is pretty,” san says softly, looking over the immaculate landscape.

you hum your response quietly, technically ignoring his words as you walk toward the bench you frequent on cool nights when you need to get away.

you plop down immediately and take off your shoes, kicking them off to the side. he raises an eyebrow at the immediate change in your body language.

you’re no longer stiff with a smile plastered on your face, sitting back on the bench as you cross your ankles and look up at him.

“so. san, right?”

he wants to smirk at the casual way in which you say it, your voice no longer sweet and airy and making him think of you as the princess you are.

“yes,” he says, smiling sweetly but eyes twinged with amusement. “y/n, right?”

“right,” you say, rising to your feet and making your way into the grass.

your bare feet sink into the fluffy ground and he watches you carefully walk over to touch the velvety petals of the flowers, plucking a few of them off before you look at him again.

“i’m gonna be honest with you, san. you seem cool and you’re hot but i really don’t wanna do this shit.”

his eyes widen at the way you speak to him, never having heard anyone talk like that in his presence, but especially a woman. it completely catches him off guard, his lips parted and eyes wide and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“oh, c’mon. you’re not gonna tell on me for using a bad word, are you?”

he presses his lips together so he doesn’t let out a laugh, instead shrugging his shoulders as he looks at you challengingly.

“no, i guess not.”

you watch curiously as he makes his way over to you, an unreadable expression on his face as he stands beside you.

his hand reaches up to pluck the same flower as you, the rest of the petals on the floor and leaving the plant naked.

“but i don’t know how i feel about my future wife speaking like that. is this just... some unusual tactic you use on men to charm them?”

you can’t help the scoff that leaves you, eyes narrowing as his lips spread into a smile. damn him because it’s a handsome smile, his eyes shining in the sunlight as they’re glinted with amusement.

“yes, because everything i say and do is for a man.”

“but i’m not just any man,” he says with a teasing smile. “i’m a hot man. you said so yourself.”

you can only roll your eyes and look away from him, wondering how on earth your mom came to the conclusion that he was sweet and caring. he seems like every other spoiled rich prince you’ve met: cocky and arrogant with a smugness that is all too nauseating.

a smugness that only grows when he plucks the empty flower off the bush and tucks it behind your ear, his moves gentle and slow despite the distrustful look in his eye.

you’ve known him for less than ten minutes but you know a man this handsome and soft with mischief in his eyes has to be dangerous.

“and i know you’re not thrilled about it princess but i’ll also be your man,” he says, his smile still teasing before his laugh echoes through the air at your disgusted scoff.

“kind of sad you’re so turned off by the idea, though, i was really looking forward to marrying a stranger.”

you hear the sarcasm in his voice and your eyebrow quirks up, tongue darting out across your lips that his eyes can’t help but follow.

“so you agree with me?” you ask, “you think this bullshit?”

“obviously,” san says, a humorless laugh leaving him. “but my dad’s a good man and i’d do anything for him. so i’m sorry but i couldn’t say no, princess. hopefully you’ll learn to deal with me.”

you narrow your eyes at the pet name that falls from his lips again, rolling your eyes before plucking another flower off the bush. he watches you pull at the petals until one remains, bringing it to your lips and blowing the remaining one right in front of him.

the red petal blows off and hits him in the chin, a smirk on your face as he narrows his eyes at you slightly.

“maybe you won’t wanna deal with me,” you say, a hint of danger and playfulness in your tone. “maybe you’ll see how foul i am and beg your dad to call it off.”

the smirk that crosses his face causes your stomach to swoop, your physical attraction to him almost a bigger tragedy than the marriage itself. you don’t know what to make of the way he looks at you, his eyes light and wide before he starts to shake his head.

“maybe...” he says, bringing his hand to your face and watching as your wide eyes follow him. “but i don’t know if that’s a possibility.”

he almost can’t believe you don’t smack him away immediately, his hand cupping your chin and as his thumb and pointer finger lay on your smooth cheeks.

he can’t even lie in saying he already likes how smooth your skin feels, almost as soft as the velvety petal you blew in his face just moments ago.

“so how ‘bout you just be a good girl? like the way you were back there?” he asks, squeezing your cheeks just a little too roughly as his thumb swipes across your bottom lip.

he knows he’s pushing it but he doesn’t care. he’ll bear the consequences, whatever they may be, because the look on your face is too amusing.

“like a good little princess for me?”

you don’t know how most of these meetings end but you can’t imagine there are many where the boy goes home with teeth marks in his finger.

that’s exactly what happens because it’s almost like you can’t even stop yourself, narrowed eyes looking up at him before you open your mouth slightly and place your lips around his finger.

you allow your teeth to graze his skin just a little too tightly to be considered seductive, though his amused, lustful eyes don’t seem to get that memo as your lips wrap around his finger.

“if you think that’s what you’re getting, then you’re sadly mistaken, sir.”

but he just can’t get over the fact that you really just bit his fucking finger, the smile on his face so large and poking out his dimples that you think, for a second, he might just be as crazy as you.

“so...how it’d go?” san’s father asks him on the ride home.

he was surprised by how well his son had taken the news of an arranged marriage.

he mulled over the idea for days in his office, absolutely seeing the benefits your father had suggested but also knowing that marrying for love is one of the best things that could happen to someone.

if his son felt like he was being robbed of that, he wouldn’t have agreed to this for a second; but san had been almost... excited about it. he wasn’t at all turned off by the idea and, instead, thought of it as an opportunity to possibly meet someone.

he was a little wary, of course, given the fact that it was something as serious as marriage, but he was willing to try and give it a chance, and now, after meeting you, he was absolutely sure he wanted to do this.

he’d expected a timid little princess who’d submit to him immediately, smiling sweetly and fully prepared to dote on him. try to prove herself to him like she had to do that in the first place.

but you.

you were headstrong and outspoken and a challenge that choi san just knew would be worth it. knew after only a few words had left your mouth that he’d made the right decision in telling his father he wanted to do this.

“good,” he said with a smile, his eyes moving to the faint tooth mark in his finger as a chuckle bubbles out of him. “weird... but good. i think we’re gonna end up really liking each other.”

“okay really. how long are you gonna keep this shit up?”

“what do you mean?” san asked innocently, the two of you bumping arms as you walk around the courtyard.

your families, but probably mostly your father, had insisted that for the first month, you treat this as the dating stage. get to know one another and learn about each other like any couple would.

“ask him about his goals for when he takes over and rules,” your father had said. “ask him how you could better assist him and make a worthy wife.” you bit down on your tongue so hard you thought you were gonna bleed, burning eyes looking at your mother who only shot you a look of sympathy.

but then it was no other than mr. choi, again, who brought you comfort, watching you and san greet each other with horribly fake, polite smiles.

“get to know one another. ask about each other’s likes and dislikes. hobbies. pet peeves. relationship deal breakers. simple stuff, like this is a real date with no royal talk,” he suggested before a large smile broke out on his face, similar dimples to his son’s poking out of his cheeks. “and don’t be afraid to challenge him, y/n. he likes a challenge.”

and for the most part, that’s all you’d been doing. not because he likes it but because that’s what you do.

you found that while you guys did have some things in common, you had many differences as well. you preferred films and plays while he preferred reading and writing. you preferred to spend your time alone while he shared stories with you you about his seven other friends, both royal and ordinary alike.

you found this whole thing to be absolutely ridiculous and a waste of time while he thought you both should make the most of it.

“surely you can get out of coming here every week,” you complain, craning your neck to look at him with the same hard expression you’ve being wearing all month. “don’t you have sick children to read to? or trees to plant?”

“children on monday and planting on wednesday. that leaves me my days to see you,” he tells you, a smirk pulling at his lips when he meets your gaze. “because how could you go on if we didn’t have our fun banter twice a week?”

“fun banter my ass,” you grumble, a smirk pulling at his lips at the sarcasm dripping in your voice. he thought he would’ve cracked you by now, his flirty smile and brown eyes glinted with amusement; but as he predicted, you were a challenge.

and he was only further intrigued by that, the way you were so polite and orderly in front of the parents and then beyond sassy and bratty with him.

he just wanted to see the slightest crack in your demeanor, hear what your laugh sounds like when it’s not sarcastic or see your eyes wide with anything but contempt.

that’s why, for the past two days, he’s been timing the sprinklers.

he noticed on tuesday they went off twice in the hour you were outside debating over just how big a waste of time these meetings were. and given the way you came at the same time today, he thinks they’re due to go off any minute now.

“you know, i find it interesting you call it fun when, really, you’re the only one-”

“come with me.”

his hand in yours is the first thing to throw you off, the way it feels soft but strong and sends a warm, electric feeling through you; but forgive you, you hadn’t really ever had the chance to hold hands with a boy (which is another unspoken reason you think the idea of this arranged marriage is preposterous).

“what are you doing?” you ask, the grass tickling your bare feet as your dress drags behind you. he pulls you wordlessly into the high fields littered with daises and splashes of pinks and reds that you’ve always admired when you sit out here alone.

and if you were alone, you’d stay right on the bench and admire from afar. peaceful and tranquil and away from the life you know you should be grateful for but only makes you mad.

but because you’re not alone, because some obnoxious, intrusive, handsome prince won’t leave you the hell alone, you’re currently being dragged further out into the flowers.

“san! what are you doing?” you repeat, though doing nothing to disconnect your hands from his; you’re gonna lie and say it’s because he’s too strong.

“any minute now,” he says and the playful sing song tone of his voice makes your eyebrows pull together; what the hell is he on about?

“until what?” you ask, finally ripping your hand from his and placing both on your hips. “until i drag you out by your ear and tell on you for smoking pot?”

he rolls his eyes at his ill-placed confession from a few weeks ago, shrugging his shoulders carelessly because something tells him you wouldn’t. no matter how much you’d want to, he just doesn’t think you would; but he’s not about to tell you that.

“then i’ll tell on you for your foul mouth, princess. trying to fool everyone with your ‘yes sir’ and ‘no ma’am’ and little curtseys.”

you roll your eyes and let out a scoff, about to tear into him before his finger covers your mouth. “and let’s not forget how you bit me during our first meeting.”

“i’m thinking about doing it again,” you retort despite the way his light brown eyes have continued to make your stomach do little flips.

a deep chuckle leaves his mouth, a smirk crossing his face as he takes a step closer to you. and just like he did the first day, his thumb runs across your lower lip like he has every and any right to make you feel this warm over something so small.

“don’t get me too excited now,” he says, his eyebrows shooting up playfully causing your eyes to narrow.

“not only a pothead but a masochistic. how tragic,” you quip, shaking your head as you look up at him. “i bet nobody knows their beloved prince is actually a little fu-”

the familiar churning of sprinklers causes the words to die in your throat, looking down at the ground before back at san whose smirk quirks into a full blown, dimply smile. and it’s such a cute smile you almost forget you should be annoyed, that he just dragged you here against your will and are now about to be pelted with water.

but once the coldness hits you, his high-pitched laughs ring through the air and you can’t help but let out a surprised yelp. you smack him in the arm and are about to start yelling his name again when he takes you by the hand and makes you both run through the sprinkler.

“are you crazy! what are you-”

“don’t tell me you’re scared to get your dress ruined, princess,” he mocks, his own slacks dry as he watches the water soak the bottom of your skirt. and it’s upon hearing that that your eyes narrow at him, tongue poking at your cheek before you reach out and fist his shirt in your hand.

“of course not,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips as you look up at him. he doesn’t know if you purposely make your eyes wide with a hint of...something, but it makes his heart jump.

it could be because, for the past month, he’s been starting to like you even more. that even though you hadn’t opened up to him about anything else, just put up your tough front with witty banter and rolling eyes, he didn’t care; he’d take this at your pace and follow whatever moves you made.

even though he thinks it could also be your hand fisting his shirt that’s making him a tiny bit flustered, your fingers grazing his abs through his white shirt as your lips quirk up into a smile.

“but this is only fair, since it was your bright idea.”

and then you pull him closer and watch in amusement as his pants quickly grow soaked, giggling when you see his face morph into surprise at the coldness.

you take off through the field before he can say anything back, lifting up your dress so you don’t trip and fall and further delay your escape from him.

but it doesn’t appear to even matter because his arms quickly find their way around your waist, a squeal leaving you as you shake your head and an uncontrollable laugh bubbles out of you.

it’s such a juvenile thing, running through a field and playing in sprinklers, but it fills you with such an unfamiliar sense of happiness you can’t help but giggle. because the idea alone is so...childish and and stupid and yet here you are, running and elbowing san as you chase each other and muddy your feet and dress.

“how did you even know they were gonna go off!” you yelp, standing away from the sprinklers as you watch san catch up to you again.

“noticed tuesday and figured we could use some fun,” he says with a smile, eyes now holding a sarcastic glint. “you know, since these past few weeks have been miserable for you.”

you purse your lips to the side as you look up at him, eyes narrowed with the slightest hint of softness making its way through. but you just can’t help it, with his playful eyes and childish idea that makes something inside you feel so stupidly...happy; but you’re not about to tell him that.

“and you thought getting me drenched would make it better?”

the smile on your face and amusement in your eyes is all he needs to nod with confidence, his head cocking to the side as he looks down at you.

“yes,” he says simply, his eyes roaming over your face and feeling his heart tug in his chest. “because that’s the prettiest smile i’ve seen from you since we’ve met.”

your eyes widen at his words because he said them like they were nothing, like they weren’t gonna make your insides jump and face feel flushed. because, for once, you’re speechless and can only blink at him.

he smirks at your expression, not a word leaving his mouth ash he turns back around to play childishly in the sprinkler. but you’re just so hung up on his words and the way they made you feel, the way he just said it to say it and move on, only making you more confident choi san is a lot more dangerous than he lets on.

but you quickly shake your head and make your way over to him, pushing him further back so the water shoots him in the back of the pants.

“i think it’s the only smile you’ve seen from me.”

san bites down on his lip so he doesn’t bluntly chuckle at your attempt to cover up your shock, shrugging his shoulders as he sees the slightest hint of pink still on your cheeks.

“what are you so shy for, huh?” he asks, the smirk he was trying to hold back blooming on his face. “you called me hot the first day, because don’t worry, i didn’t forget. and now i called you pretty. so we’re even.”

a scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes, pushing him backward until his feet land right in a pile of mud. and when he looks up at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his gaze, you take off again as you muffle your giggles in your hand.

it was almost unbelievable that, nearly five weeks later, your dad still wasn’t over the sprinkler mishap.

because that evening, when he saw you and san come in with muddy shoes and soaked pants, he immediately assumed you had done something. lured him out there in an attempt to show your dislike for him and this situation when, meanwhile, it had been the very opposite.

for a split second, it made you think this situation was okay. that maybe you could like san and this forced relationship wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world right now.

but how stupid were you to think that, to think that you could have control over anything in your life and build something on your own (even what was initially an unwanted relationship).

because now, just due to a little muddy fun, all of your meetings were inside where the watchful eyes and ears of your parents were close by.

where if your dad thought you were gonna do something destructive, he could show off expensive china or art work to san, like the young man really gave a flying fuck. where if your mom saw you with a familiar glint in your eye, she could shoot you a sympathetic look and silently beg for you to stop.

today’s meeting was a little different, though, both your parents and san’s at the dining room table as you two sat next to one another.

the atmosphere was horribly awkward, the watchful eye of your father making you incredibly unnerved; how are you supposed to do this when it’s like you’re being inspected under a microscope?

“so, how’s everything going?” san’s dad asked softly, resulting in you responding with a sweet, small “good.”

but already two minutes into this meeting, you’re deemed unworthy by your father.

“hopefully she hasn’t tried to pull you into anymore shenanigans, san,” your father had said, his voice attempting to be laced with humor but only sounding gruff and forced.

“no, no, not at all,” san insisted politely, sending a small smile your dad’s way. “i...i think it’s going good, given the circumstances.”

and they probably assume the circumstances are this arrangement itself. forcing you two together for the good of two kingdoms and not you as people.

but really, he means this. keeping you guys inside with their nosy eyes and ears just a few feet away. keeping you guys from having loud, fun banter and instead hushed conversations and small, playful slaps you have to keep silent.

“i hope so,” your dad says lowly. he meets your gaze and sees the tightness in your eyes, narrowing his ever so slightly before he continues.

“she does have a tendency to become...too much. and mouthy. it’s why we keep her out of the public eye, as i’m sure you’ve noticed. but the more you get to know her, the more you’ll learn how to-”

“why are you talking about me like i’m not here?” you snap.

you didn’t want to say anything. you really weren’t going to. but fuck, you just can’t help it. because who does he think he is? you’re literally sitting a few seats away from him and he’s gonna talk about you like you’re not even in the room?

talk about how troubled and outspoken you are but that once the boy gets to know you enough, it’ll be okay for him to reprimand you in the macho, demanding way he himself does.

“y/n...” he growls warningly, your mom’s eyes immediately turning panicked as she looks at you desperately. but you’ve bit your tongue for weeks around your father and the choi’s and you’ve had enough of him thinking this is okay.

“no, father. either address me directly or don’t talk about me like i’m not here. but you know, why don’t i just leave right now? i think we’re all over it, yourself included, so tense and nervous as you wait for my next mouthy outburst.”

your dad stiffens and looks at you with a deadly expression, eyes cold and hard as you get snippy in front of the choi’s. it’s one thing to do it in front of the help but in front of someone like them? someone full of power and who he’s trying to prove himself to?

you won’t be surprised if he makes you sleep outside tonight.

“enough, y/n,” he says sternly, looking at san and his father with an apologetic look. “see, this is what i mean. she’s....very strong, though, which could be commendable for a queen. you’ll just have to teach her to-”

“he won’t have to teach me anything, i’m not a dog,” you spit, the annoyance flaring in your veins causing the words and snippy tone to pour out.

“oh, really?” your dad says through gritted teeth, his back straightening as he looks at you the way he has many nights. many nights of you guys erupting into yelling and screaming until your throat is raw and your dad’s red in the face.

“because you were taught to not run in sprinklers and you were taught to wear shoes. but that one didn’t seem to get through your head, did it?”

and if you weren’t so annoyed right now, you’d be happy the san’s dad is seeing your dad like this.

the ruler of a kingdom who portrays himself to be so poised and fair losing it over his daughter’s snippy comments. his eyes on fire and jaw set so angrily, it looks like he’s about to jump over the table and drag you out by your hair.

“jesus christ, not that nonsense again,” you say as you roll your eyes. “i already told you i didn’t do anything to-”

“that was my idea.”

you and your father’s heads snap to san who just spoke, his face and demeanor completely calm as he looks at the older man a few seats away.

“i timed the sprinklers because i thought it’d be fun,” san says, slight amusement in his voice as he explains the situation. how he didn’t mean for you guys to come in as messy as you did and that he’d just wanted to have a little fun with you.

“we’re just both a little...hesitant about all of this and wanted to relieve some stress,” san says, “i didn’t mean to cause any problems. i’m sorry.”

and like his head wasn’t about to explode over it three second ago, your dad looks at san thoughtfully before nodding his head and clapping his hands together.

“oh! well....that’s great then. as long as you guys are feeling a bit better about things.”

san looks to you and is fearful when he can’t read your expression, eyes trained down but body so tense and stiff, it seems as if you’re about to yell again.

“i...i think so,” san mumbles quietly, not even sure if anyone heard his words.

an awkward silence fills the grand dining room, only the clattering of utensils and a softly spoken “my apologies,” in your pounding ears. you’re faintly aware of your father speaking again, even laughing after a few moments as he recalls you guys coming in looking like wet dogs.

laughing because, now that he found out it was the great choi san’s idea, it’s funny. it’s not distasteful or foolish or jeopardizing but one big funny, hilarious story they’ll be able to tell in a few years.

and when you can’t take anymore of the fake laughter between the parents or san’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your face, you get up wordlessly from your chair.

you’re faintly aware of your mom calling your name and your dad making some sort of gruff noise but you don’t even care, your shoes clacking against the floor as you make your way to the courtyard.

and you only get about three seconds of peace in the cool air before san comes around the corner, your eyes raising to him before rolling away.

“what?” he asks lightheartedly as he sits down next to you, his eyes clear and soft as they look at you.

and you don’t know how he manages to do it, have such sweet kind eyes but a voice full of amusement and playfulness. how he could go from serious to playful to serious in the matter of five seconds.

meanwhile you’re known to brew.

you don’t mean to but you do, sit on your emotions and feelings and let them completely consume you until you explode. until you get so irritated by your life and the lack of choices and respect you have, that you completely lose it.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

and he almost...expected those words from you, but he didn’t expect the harsh bite to them. he didn’t expect your eyes to look at him with such anger and annoyance, like he was the one blaming you for something you didn’t even do.

“do...what?”

“defend me. i could’ve handled him just fine on my own but you had to butt in and act like a hero. i’m more than capable of speaking for myself, san, so i highly recommend you-”

“i wasn’t defending you nor was i trying to act like a hero,” he says, cutting you off with a look of confusion all over his handsome face. “he was blaming you for something i did. why wouldn’t i have said anything?”

“because i can speak for myself,” you snap. “i don’t need you coming to my rescue like i’m some weak little girl being scolded by her father. if you just let him handle it, i would’ve told him that was your bright idea.”

“i was just trying to help, y/n, i don’t really see what the big deal is,” san grumbles, unsure as to where this change in you came from.

because ever since that day, you two had been...good. great even. getting along and chatting and laughing and he’d seen so much of your real smile, he found that he couldn’t go a few days without seeing it.

found himself thinking about you when he was with his friends who immediately noticed and made fun of him, called him whipped and crazy for falling for someone who’s being forced to be his wife. thinking about how, out of everyone he could’ve gotten married to you, it was someone like you who always kept him on his toes.

thinking about the ways your arms will bump now and you won’t move away, the way your hands graze one another and the one time your pinkies wrapped around each other and you threw him the softest, sweetest of smiles before giggling.

but this. your anger and annoyance toward him when he was genuinely only trying to help? he’s not sure what to make of it.

he’s not used to people not liking the good things he does. and it’s not like he does it for praise, he does it because it’s the right thing to do; but he can’t even lie and say your reaction isn’t hurting his feelings a little bit.

“of course you don’t,” you spit, shaking your head as you look at him with fire behind your eyes. “because the second you said something, it was okay. he no longer thought it was childish and stupid but something so fucking funny and humorous.”

“and that’s my fault?” he asks, his eyebrows pinched together as he looks at you. because he’s genuinely trying to understand what he did so wrong to upset you this much. “how was i supposed to know he’d do that?”

“if you just didn’t get involved at all, there wouldn’t have been an issue.”

because you always fought your own battles against your dad and you’ll continue to; you don’t need anyone defending you when you’re fully capable of defending yourself.

“did it ever occur to you that i didn’t like seeing him talk to you like that?”

and when those words leave his mouth, for whatever reason, they make you even more angry. whether it be because of how easy it is for him to say that or because you secretly liked hearing it or because this absurd arrangement shouldn’t have happened in the first place and you shouldn’t be feeling what you do now, you’re not sure.

you just know that when you look at him, you see such raw honesty that it immediately makes you shake your head and laugh in his face.

“and why would that be the case, san?” you ask, trying to ignore how your stomach is sickening and heart is twisting. “god, don’t tell me you’re actually starting to like me or something.”

and then pain flashes behind his eyes and you feel a knot form in your throat, praying to god he doesn’t try to sit any closer to you.

“why would that be such a bad thing?” he asks you, your eyes meeting his after a few silent moments and your heart cracks at the soft spoken tone of his voice. “because that’s exactly what i’m about to te-”

“don’t.”

he looks at you with wide eyes and swears he sees your eyes gloss over for a second, shaking your head as you gather your stupidly long, uncomfortable dress and stand up quickly.

you have to get away from him. you can’t deal with this right now. you’re far too angry and upset and annoyed and you can’t think straight. you know you don’t even mean the things you’re saying to him but you’re just so...consumed by your feelings that you don’t know what to do.

“why?” you hear him ask, turning around to see him leaned back and looking at you with a cocked head. his expression looks almost cocky now but he knows you can probably see it’s a front. “are you scared?”

and it’s in the way you feel like you’re about to cry or have a heart attack that you know the answer is a giant yes. that these two months have been effecting you far more than you’d like and hearing him say this stuff is making you see that.

but he can’t see that. he can’t see that you might like him too and are scared. that more and more everyday, you’ve been allowing him to see more of you and slowly and stupidly allowing yourself to submit to this arrangement.

because that’s what it is: an arrangement. a business deal, basically, that shouldn’t have feelings attached or soft spoken words or teasing touches. shouldn’t be making you feel all of these different emotions and breaking you to a point you’ve never been before.

“i have nothing to be scared of,” you say, hoping your voice sounds stronger and more determined than you feel; and when his eyes widen and eyebrow raises, you think you might’ve accomplished that.

“because it’s just an arrangement, san. whether we like each other or not, it’s happening. so let’s not make this more dramatic than it has to be. that’ll only make things complicated.”

but you feel like the dramatic one when you walk away from him and sneak back into the house. you hear the quiet whispers of your parents and san’s as you walk past the dining hall and up to your room, hoping that you’re able to lock yourself in there without interruption and get that sweet, hopeful look on san’s face out of your head.

but much to your dismay, it never leaves.

you’re haunted by the reminder of your harsh words and his hurt expression and the way you probably just ruined everything; because while the visits continued, you and san’s communication hasn’t.

you two move around the courtyard in silence, a few feet always between you two as you guys walk like strangers and try to ignore the thick tension in the air. try to ignore the memories of getting to know one another and running through the sprinklers and holding pinkies.

try to ignore the way every flower you pass is one that san would’ve snuck behind your ear by now, his fingers sliding through the strands of your hair before you rolled your eyes and pushed him away.

try to ignore how, even on the worst nights you’d have before his arrival, you’d always manage to smile at least once with him. and you could really use a smile right now, could really use hearing his nice voice or bask in the comfort of your bumping arms after the night you had.

because there was only two and half weeks until your wedding, your dress fitting just last night fully putting everything into perspective for you. that in less than 20 days, you’ll be married to san and living somewhere else. you’ll meet his people and his friends and make a whole new life for yourself.

you’ll have thousands of people making impressions and comments about you while you can only sit there, smile and take it.

no matter how hurtful or untrue or upsetting, you’ll have to. but you suppose it’s not different from your treatment now, your dad seeing you in your wedding dress and commenting on how it looks “fit for a queen.”

but he had said nothing about you. didn’t even say you looked nice or that he was excited to walk you down the aisle or that he was happy you came around. he just simply waved you off, like you were wearing any old dress and not a dress for the wedding he fall but forced you to have.

not that you wanted or needed his approval. but you thought it would’ve been...nice for him to actually acknowledge the fact you were here, without any snippy comments or threats to run away, and accepting this marriage.

even though accepting it didn’t calm your worries. it didn’t make you feel any less worse for lashing out at san and making him feel bad.

that was just one of the many things that made you break down last night, cried until your pillow was soaked and your eyes were puffy and you think it’s evident to everyone in the surrounding area how messed up you look.

even san when he walked in, he narrowed his eyes at you and raised a brow but didn’t comment as you two followed suit to the courtyard. you both sat down on the bench for a few moments, enjoying the may breeze and smell of flowers before he quietly asked if you wanted to walk.

he lets out a sigh when you shake your head and proceeds to stand up, mumbling something unintelligible before making his way to the familiar path you’ve been walking for months.

he probably thinks you declined because you’re still mad at him and want nothing to do with him but, really, it’s because somehow, you still have tears left to cry. you still feel so guilty and stressed and upset and you were so fucking stupid to attack him for being nice to you.

you don’t know when or how you started to like him or when you became so terrified but now it’s like after not speaking to him, you miss him.

you miss the banter you once hated so much and you miss how easy it was with him. you miss feeling something flutter in your chest and like a girl who finally allowed some walls to come down.

but you didn’t realize your walls coming down would result in this many tears, more frustrated than anything that you can’t make them stop.

so you hide your face in your hands to muffle them, taking in deep shaky breaths and shaking your head as you try to get it together. but then you hear footsteps making their way toward you and you shoot your head up, your hands flying away from your face just as you’re pulled up and dragged away.

you don’t know where he’s bringing you until you see he’s pulled you to the familiar area where the sprinklers are, san’s body turning and wiping at your wet, red face without much of a second thought.

“are you finally gonna talk to me now?”

and you don’t know why but that makes more tears gather in your eyes, lower lip wobbling in a way that makes you feel so weak and stupid. but you watch his face soften and whine against him as he brings you into his chest, shushing you quietly and you immediately allow yourself to melt into him.

attempt to memorize the way you feel against him and how warm his body is, how good and fresh he smells despite the sun beating on him and his low, deep voice in your ear telling you it’s okay to cry.

because he just knows this isn’t something you do often. you don’t cry and allow yourself to feel weak and yet here you are, whimpering into him and pulling at his shirt like you’re about to fall apart.

“i am scared,” you say quietly, the words muffled by his shirt but he’s still able to make them out. “i’m really fucking scared and this...i don’t know what i’m doing.”

the words make him chuckle and he pulls back, his hands on your cheeks as he raises an eyebrow and looks down at you. “and you think i do?” he hums lowly, his thumb swiping under your cheek so gently, it’s like you’re made of glass.

his heart pulls in his chest as a tiny pout forms on your lips, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, wishing he plucked a flower off the bush because up until a few weeks ago, he’d seen the smile you tried to fight every single time he did it.

“it seems like you do,” you mumble quietly, your teary eyes looking up at him as you fight the urge to let out a tiny sob. “i...i ruined everything. i said things i didn’t even mean and was so mean to you and you... you didn’t deserve that. you were just trying to help and-”

“you were always mean. i don’t know why you’re just getting so upset about it now.”

your eyebrows pull together and there he is again, managing to go from sweet and serious to teasing and playful that makes you smack him in the arm lightly; you’ve been upset for weeks and here is he making fun of you.

“i’m being serious, right now san!”

“so am i,” he says with a smile, his hand caressing your cheek and he can’t even stop his chest from soaring when you slightly move into his touch. “i knew this was happening whether we liked each other or not,” he says, your heart falling as you remember the last words you said to him.

you’re about to speak again when he puts his finger to your lips, his eyes falling to them before he continues to speak. “and i didn’t expect you to like me back and i know i probably made it scarier when i dropped that bomb on you. so i’m sorry for that.”

you frown at the way he feels like he has to apologize when you’re the one who should be saying that. when you were the one to get mad at him for sticking up for you, mad at him because your dad is the asshole who can’t find it in him to see you and san as equals.

“why are you apologizing?” you whine, about ready to cry again like a frustrated child; your tone and face almost make him laugh but he’s able to bite it back. “i’m the one who’s sorry. i acted like a total fucking bitch.”

“we can both be sorry, princess,” he says, eyes glinted with such amusement and fondness it makes you swallow nervously. your eyebrows pull together and you let out a huff, looking over his face and feeling that familiar fluttering in your chest.

he really is so handsome and kind and sweet and you have no business being with him. you have no business thinking you can-

“next time this happens, because we both know it will, just talk to me,” he says, back to the soft-spoken, serious san that makes your eyes water for completely different reasons.

makes you wish you could maybe just kiss him a little bit because that’s how much you’ve missed talking with him. “don’t ignore me or shut me out because you’re scared. we didn’t even do the scary part yet.”

and you don’t know if those words were supposed to bring you comfort but they absolutely don’t, your eyes widening and face paling in a way that makes his dimples poke out.

“i’m just saying,” he says quietly, his hand moving through a stand of your hair again. “i don’t want us to fight. i want us to talk everything out so maybe, this doesn’t turn out to be as big a waste of time as you thought.”

a tiny pout crosses your face and you shake your head but he continues to talk, tells you that you don’t have to feel the same way as him. that he’ll push the feelings down and you both could pretend he never said that. that you could just do this as friends and wait to see what happens.

that you don’t need to make any big decisions now and can just focus on getting the ceremony over with.

but you, being the reckless fool you are, don’t hear any of that.

you don’t know how you feel about becoming a wife in a few weeks but you know that you didn’t like not talking to him. you know that you hated seeing the look on his face when you snapped harshly at him and you know that, right now, even though he’s in the middle of talking, you wanna kiss him.

so that’s exactly what you do.

fist his shirt the same way you did when you pulled him into the sprinkler all those weeks ago and crash your lips together. you’re impressed by the way he immediately responds, almost as if he knew you were gonna do this, and was eagerly ready to kiss you back.

and once your mouths part on one another, it’s like there’s no going back.

every ounce of sexual tension and emotional energy comes back full force and is poured into the kiss. you think this is either the best or worst thing you could do right now but, truthfully, have no regard for that.

especially not when he’s meeting you back with the same amount of fervor, groaning quietly against your lips before he pulls back and lowers his gaze to yours.

“i...do you know what you just did?” he asks gruffly, not knowing if it was just the heat of the moment or if this was something you wanted.

but then you answer him quickly when you push him back and he stumbles over his feet, falling back onto the fluffy grass and his eyes widening when you bend down and straddle his lap.

“yes,” you say breathily, searching his face for any sign of objection because maybe he’s feeling hesitant about this. maybe he’s uncomfortable with you attacking him after ignoring him for weeks. maybe he thinks this is way too fast and crazy and-

but then he fists your hair and pulls you down to meet his lips, groaning when you lean down and rub against him in the process. you smile against his lips and his hands move to your hips for good measure, squeezing warningly as if to tell you not to test him.

that’s you’ve tested him since the moment you two have met and he’s been dying to humble you in this way.

it’s why he allows you to take control as your lips part on one another, swallowing each other’s moans and whines before you break apart from him and kiss at his freckled neck.

you remember noticing them the first day you met and pushing down this very urge, trying to convince yourself that, if given the opportunity, you wouldn’t litter his neck with hickies for the sake of hearing him moan out your name.

but now that you’re here, you know you were stupid to think otherwise. think that you could be unfazed by this prince in any way and not end up straddling him and kissing down his neck teasingly.

so teasingly, with warm breath from your giggles and the tip of your tongue and teeth grazing him, that you end up being flipped on your back in the fluffy patch of tall grass.

“i’m not surprised you’re a fucking tease like this either, princess,” he says lowly, his hand resting on lower stomach and you’re grateful for the casual, flowey skirt you were deemed okay to wear today.

“tease?” you quip with your head cocked to the side, a smirk on your face despite the way you feel like you can’t breathe.

because arousal and lust is quickly taking over and the look on his face isn’t helping, matching your desire but also with a glint of his own teasing; you think, if you don’t play your cards right in the next few moments, you could be walking away from this incredibly frustrated.

but the look that flares in his eyes is just all too fun, his eyes narrowing before his hand drags down just a little bit lower. your breath catches in your throat and you know he hears it because a dimply smirk crosses his face, his mouth catching yours in a kiss that claims you.

it’s all tongue and moans and when you try to slip your own in his mouth, he’s quick to press down on your fabric covered core.

“ah, ah,” he hums lowly against your mouth, smirking when he hears you let out a huff.

“san...” you whine warningly but he only presses down a little harder, his pointer finger dragging up and down in a move that shoots sparks right through you. a part of you wants to push him back and tease him too, palm him through his pants and roll your hips over him until he’s just as worked up as you.

but another part of you wants to beg him to slip his hand in your skirt and help relieve the ache quickly growing between your legs. and with the way he takes your face in his hand and forces you to look at him, you think that’s where this is probably going much to your dismay.

“i told you, you were gonna be good for me,” he says lowly, voice deep and husky in a way you haven’t heard yet. “didn’t i say that? that you were gonna be a good little princess for me?”

“i don’t know, maybe if you actually touched me, i’d be more inclined,” you hum back, ignoring the way the words that used to fill you with such irritation make your stomach swoop with desire. “unless i’m gonna have to do it myself.”

and when his eyes flare again, you have to bite back a smirk until your mouth falls open with a moan.

because before you can even bask in the feeling of getting under his skin the way you’ve come to love, he’s rubbing at your clit and a finger is teasing your wetness.

“and now?” he asks lowly, bending down so his words ghost over your ear. you cry out again when he slips his finger all the way in, your walls clenching around him as he picks up the pace and skillfully flicks at your clit. “are you gonna finally be good for me now?”

your head rolls back when you feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten, your hair splayed out on the grass as you squirm and moan out from his fingers fucking into you.

but he can only smirk at the way you’ve finally submit to him, taking your face in his hand and bending down to claim your mouth again. he kisses you until you’re moaning into his mouth, grasping onto his shoulder as an orgasm rips through your body and renders you in a state of euphoria.

you cry out his name and he only hums lowly about how good and tight you are, how pretty you sound whining and moaning for him and how, in just a few weeks, he can’t wait to hear it again.

because once you can catch your breath, he kisses your cheek and guides you to his chest gently. his hand runs through your hair almost to the point of lulling you to sleep before you hear him softly ask if you’re okay with everything.

your eyebrows pull together as you pop an eye open, resting your chin on his chest as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“i mean, yeah, i was just gonna catch my breath before i sucked your-”

“oh, my god, not that,” he says, a high pitched laugh leaving his mouth that makes your cheeks flush and face fall into his shirt. but he’s quick to pull you away and smile at you, brown eyes shining in the sun as he looks down at you.

“i meant...with this. the marriage and ceremony,” he says softly, not wanting to freak you out again but knowing, especially, after that, you both have to be on the same page. “i can say we need more time to figure it out or ask my dad if he could-”

“no,” you blurt out, surprising both of you by the certainty in your face. you ignore the heat rising to your cheeks as you shake your head, eyes roaming over his expression that’s gradually becoming more and more happy.

“i mean...i just think...i think it’ll be okay.”

his smile was soft and warm as you say those words, the hopeful twinge in his chest not surprising him in the slightest because, almost since the moment you bit his finger, he was hoping it was gonna be okay.

the stark contrast between your home and san’s was...staggering to say the least. because while both estates were daunting and gaudy and far too large for any one family, there was a certain aura to it that made it much more homey.

in the way his parents welcomed you with open arms and gushed with tears in their eyes how happy they were.

in the way each and every member of staff expressed their genuine excitement in meeting you, swapping out handshakes for hugs when san guided you by the small of your back.

in the way loud, booming voices echoed through the halls, footsteps stomping on the ground before seven bodies came barreling in through the door, two of them wiping out on the hard, stone floor.

“where is she!”

“san’s queen, come out wherever you are!”

“i cant believe he’s getting married!”

you turn around just as five of them swarm around you, a polite smile on your face as you wave at all of the boys you’ve heard so much about. you barely get out a “hi, nice to meet-” before two of them grab you by the hand and out the door, a squeal leaving your mouth as you look back at san.

but he only shoots you a thumbs up and mouths “good luck,” the boys you now know as wooyoung and mingi talking excitedly to you. how there hasn’t been a wedding here in years and they can’t wait to dance and celebrate with you guys. how they’re so happy you gave san a chance even though they knew “shit was kind of crazy.”

and then they can’t help but squeal and smile when they see your cheeks heat up and your head drop shyly, wooyoung whispering that san came back telling them all about the crazy princess who bit his finger.

#okay the requests are finally being worked on #i promise skdskkss #san #san angst #san fluff #san smut #san scenarios #san imagines #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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faulty-writes · 3 years

Text

This is a little different than most of my other works, but I'm trying to branch out and write for more of the secondary or minor characters. I actually adore the Todoroki family, especially Fuyumi and Natsuo. So I hope you guys enjoy this little appreciation piece featuring Natsuo who no doubt deserves more love considering he's a very interesting and complex character, at least in my opinion.

[ Natsuo is known as 'the nice guy' on campus despite also being recognized as a "Todoroki" and many knowing of the relation he holds to the number one hero, Endeavor. He's had plenty of experiences where people have used him because of this, but the latest one leaves him a tad heartbroken. What other choice does he have but to run to you? ]

The sound of his abnormally thick tears landing on the tiled flooring of the hallway faintly echoed as he continued on his way. Ignoring all the looks and obvious gossip that would come with the fact he was so shamelessly crying in the middle of a school day.

A sniffle came as Natsuo reached up and with some force, wiped his right eye with the end of his signature gray hoodie sleeve which he normally wore on campus. The very campus he had grown to love over the past year and the one Fuyumi had insisted he go to in order to study medical welfare.

It was funny, he could still hear her words echoing in his head, ‘Leave our family circumstances to me and go do what you want to pursue,’ and that he did. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that his sister offered to take the brunt of their family problems and encourage him to do what made him happy.

But at the same time, Natsuo hadn’t originally wanted to leave his sister or youngest brother behind. He didn’t trust their well-being with ‘Endeavor’ around, despite his mother having long since recovered from the mental and physical abuse the so-called "number one hero" put her through.

Since the death of his eldest brother, Touya. He couldn't shake this protective and anxiety-ridden feeling that had been slowly growing inside of him. He'd be damned if anything happened to his remaining siblings, even if it meant he'd experience more emotional trauma in the long run.

Much like today. College was supposed to be a fun time, and while Natsuo understood that some enjoyed ‘experimenting’ and partying rather than studying. He was never much of the party type and while he knew he was attracted to other genders, he never outwardly acted on it.

Knowing how his father treated his mother was the one thing that drove him to desire a true romantic relationship and that was what he thought he had. Unfortunately, there was a cruel reality that came with being the son of Endeavor, and while he should be used to people trying to get close to him when they found this out.

He never thought they would sink so low as to try and date him on the off-chance they'd get to meet the number one hero. His fingers sunk into the front of his hoodie, twisting the fabric as a soft ache coursed through his chest.

Which he could only describe as a broken heart and despite wanting to go back to his own room, bury his face into a pillow, and hide under his covers. There was one person he wanted, no needed, to see. It wasn’t his mother or sister, not even his youngest brother. It was you.

Strangely, since the start of his first year in college. He seemed to gravitate towards you, at first he believed it was only due to the fact that you were also studying something related to the medical field. But as your friendship continued and he got to spend more time with you, he realized that he genuinely enjoyed your company.

The fact he found himself telling you things, secrets that he wouldn’t have thought of sharing outside of his family was a pleasant surprise. Maybe you were just easy to talk to? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that unlike most.

You weren’t going to use him just because of his relation to Endeavor, though he knew you were interested in hero studies. There was no worry in his mind that you’d use him for some hero-related advantage.

Another sniffle came before he reached up to once more wipe away his tears, even if his effort was in vain considering more just came. He took a deep breath, trying to both collect and center himself. ‘Man, this backpack feels heavy,’ he thought as he clenched his jaw and focused his attention on the floor.

Counting the familiar shapes in the tile that he knew would eventually lead to your room. The logical reason for his backpack feeling so heavy was due to the fact it was filled to the brim with various textbooks and a few notebooks that were scribbled with his writing.

He could feel the slight bitter sting of frost beginning to grow on his tear-stained cheeks which he ignored for the moment. Still, he wiped his eyes once more before picking up his pace. He soon began to speedwalk which turned into a jog which eventually led him to frantically running and accidentally stumbling into your door.

Once more, he seemed to get stares from the passersby. But in a way, he couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t even sure how he looked slumped against another student's door with his arms stretched above his head and his hands closed into fists.

His forehead was pressed against your door and his tears continued to slowly fall. His eyebrows came down and for a moment, he wondered what he was doing before the door suddenly opened. “Hel-” your sentence came to a stop when the white-haired boy stumbled forward and your hands instantly grasped his arms.

Your stance stiffening as you unconsciously seemed determined to stop him from falling. One of your legs was bent back, and the other bent forward. An awkward silence filled the air before you heard the soft sound of something hitting the wooden floor of your room.

It reminded you of water and a few seconds later, Natsuo lifted his head. You instantly noticed those tears and felt his hands curl into the front of your shirt, funny you hadn’t noticed or felt the pressure of his hands there before.

But in a way it made sense, Natsuo was always very gentle. Even when handling the few people who volunteered to pretend to be "patients" during his medical welfare classes. In fact, it seemed he was downright cautious when it came to others.

Never necessarily wanting to cause trouble and sometimes acting rather shy unless you happened to bring up a topic he didn’t like. You had long since learned the reason why he preferred to keep the topic of ‘family’ out of conversations.

Yet, you wondered if Natsuo was crying because of something related to just that. But you knew you shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Still, you couldn’t help but look into those blue orbs of his. The look of hurt was clearly visible, not only in his eyes but also indicated by the way his face was twisted.

Then he leaned forward, allowing a soft whimper to escape in the process. Partly burying his face into the front of your shirt as he lifted his leg up. Then without warning, he slammed his foot against the floor. Which caused you to jump, but you didn’t dare release Natsuo.

Especially as his tears soaked into the fabric of your shirt, unlike most Natsuo's tears were always cold. You assumed it was due to his quirk, but before you could say anything the sound of Natsuo’s cracked and broken voice caught your attention.

“D-Damn it,” the stuttered words filled the air and you frowned, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through that white snow-like hair of his before you glanced back up. Noticing a few people staring into your doorway, you honestly didn’t know why they were staring or why they weren’t minding their own business.

But you did know that something was clearly wrong with Natsuo and whatever that something was caused this reaction. You shot the bystanders a glare before focusing back on Natsuo. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by the sound of his voice once more.

“I...am so sick of this,” his words, of course only confused you. What was he sick of and how did it relate to his current state? You managed to straighten out your legs, however, Natsuo continued to cling to you.

His tears hadn’t ceased nor those soft almost desperately gasps for breath. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly said before he turned to look over his shoulder. His hands remained curled into the front of your shirt as he looked at the many people staring at the two of you.

Some seemed curious as to what was happening and others amused to see the almost grown man crying in the arms of his friend. With more strength than he intended, he once more lifted his foot and slammed your door shut.

The noise it created echoed through your room and though Natsuo felt guilty for having treated your door in such a manner, his chest was already aching profusely. When he turned back to face you, the fact he had small bits of ice underneath his eyes and on the skin of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your hands left their position on Natsuo’s forearms to gently cup his face, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was cold to the touch. You knew that was yet again another semi-harmless side effect due to his quirk, despite the fact you had never actually seen him use it.

Part of you wondered why that was. Still, you couldn’t help but allow your thumbs to run over those specs of ice stuck to his moist cold cheeks and the desire to get a warm hand towel to clean his face was strong.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to ask what happened first or calm him down enough so he would tell you with as little of a fight as possible. Your touch was welcomed as Natsuo reached up and laid one of his hands over yours.

“Do you...want to sit down?” you questioned and Natsuo looked momentarily confused before he glanced away as if he were thinking about something. Sometimes when he acted like this, it annoyed you. You knew how guilty Natsuo could feel over things that he either shouldn’t or weren’t even his fault.

He was here crying into your arms, but you knew somehow he'd make up a reason to feel guilty about it. ‘Well, that isn’t going to happen today,’ you thought as you released his face and reached down to take hold of one of his hands.

Even though they too were always cold, you couldn't help but find some odd sense of comfort when you were holding him by the hand. Despite the fact, Natsuo was significantly larger than you. But, you assumed that was only due to the fact that he physically took after his father.

The fact he went to the gym daily only added to that overall intimidating stature of his. Regardless, you squeezed his hand in reassurance as you guided him towards your bed. He made no move to resist your guidance and once you had him sitting down, you gently laid your hands on his shoulders.

Those tears were now single drops that slowly slid down his icy cheeks and you'd be lying if you stated it didn't hurt seeing Natsuo like this. You took a deep breath. “Stay here,” you instructed, “I’m going to get a warm towel, you have ice on your face,” Natsuo seemed rather surprised and reached up to touch his cheek.

Using his thumb to glide along the skin and sure enough, he could feel the smooth surface of the small patches of ice. “Oh…” he said before a sniffle came. “Sorry,” though most would know not to apologize for something beyond their control.

Still, he couldn’t help but fold his hands into his lap. Squeezing them between his thighs. His feet were nervously tapping against the floor, creating a rhythmic pattern and if one listened carefully enough, they’d recognize it was the pattern of a standard heartbeat.

In a way, it was amazing how much subconscious knowledge you could obtain. Natsuo failed to notice the rhythmic pattern, but you could hear it clear as day even from the bathroom where you proceeded to ring out the warm hand towel.

A soft groan escaped him, and his thighs were the only thing keeping his hands in place. Else he would be running them through his unusual spiky hair and possibly pulling it out. ‘What am I even doing here man?!’ he frantically thought.

‘Y/n...is always the person I run to, I keep bothering them but I’d rather be like this than…’ his jaw clenched when the thought of Endeavor entered his mind and a soft growl rumbled in his throat before he heard your footsteps which prompted him to raise his head.

You noticed he was looking at the wet towel you held with an expression only a curious and slightly confused child would make. “Mm,” once more he looked away, feeling the guilt continue to build as you sat down next to him and laughed.

"Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty again,” you stated, and not to your surprise, Natsuo turned his head to look at you. His tears seemed to be completely dry and you wondered if that was because he was here with you or that he simply overworked his tear ducts.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still focused on the towel you held and the small amount of steam that seeped from it. “I...get it's kind of crazy for me to keep running to you but-” you shook your head, quickly interrupting him.

“But nothing,” you replied as you leaned forward, “that’s what friends do and you and I have been friends since the start of our freshman year,” that had to count for something, right? You reached over, cupping one side of Natsuo’s face.

“Now stay still, I want to get that ice off your face, and then you can tell me what’s bothering you,” the words left your mouth almost like a friendly command. But like most of the time, Natsuo didn’t seem to take offense.

He simply nodded and gave you a look that you knew meant he understood. Very gently, you pressed the towel to his face. Applying some pressure to ensure the bits of ice chipped off and sure enough, you could see the clear cold pieces slowly begin to melt.

When you began to wipe his opposite cheek, you couldn’t help but raise the question. “Hey Natsuo,” you began, effectively catching his attention and the soft, “Hm?” he responded with. “I’ve never seen you actually use your quirk,” you pointed out.

“Is there a reason for that?” a gasp came when Natsuo suddenly jerked his head away from you. “Uh…” blinking once or twice. You lowered the wet towel to your lap and grasped onto it. Twisting the fabric between your fingers to allow the now lukewarm droplets of water to soak into the pajama bottoms you were wearing.

Maybe you crossed a line? Did this have anything to do with his family? As far as you knew, his mother possessed a rather powerful ice quirk. Was that the reason he never used it? You weren’t sure, but usually, when Natsuo acted in this closed-off manner it was related to his family.

“Sorry,” you said, “I didn’t mean to pry, I was just curious,” the explanation was simple and you hoped Natsuo would believe you. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh before bringing his hand up, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine,” he replied, though you could tell his voice was a little strained before he turned to you. That’s when you saw the frown on his face and his eyes looked misted over as if he were going to cry again. You really didn’t want that.

“Natsuo are you-” though the answer was obvious, he wasn’t okay if he had come running to you in tears. But even so, Natsuo nodded. “Yeah…” he reached out, grasping the wet towel that you were previously holding before he got up.

You wanted to ask where he was going, but it was clear he was only heading to the bathroom. “It’s just…” you heard the wet plop of the towel landing in the sink before Natsuo walked back out and once more took his seat on your bed.

You reached out, laying your hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to tell me,” you offered with a kind smile, but Natsuo shook his head. “It’s fine,” he repeated yet again before allowing his hand to rest by his side.

“Big bro Touya and I used to play around with our quirks, but Touya was always so serious about his,” you watched as his expression grew dark and a clear hateful glance appeared in his eyes which seemed distant at the moment.

This was more than likely due to the fact that Natsuo was picturing his late brother alongside his father. “Uh…” you glanced down and watched as the hand that laid by Natsuo’s side began to curl into a fist, though you knew he would never actually raise that fist or cause harm to you.

It was just shocking how the subject of his family brought out this side in him, but you remained quiet and continued to listen. “Because of that...bastard and I hated seeing Touya like that!” he suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward as his fists began to tremble, and without much thinking, you laid your hand on his back.

"Natsuo…” you said, hoping your voice would bring him back out of the hateful moment he was in. His jaw was clenched and a shiver ran up your spine when you felt Natsuo’s trembling hand take a grip on your upper arm.

But there was still that familiar gentleness to it which indicated to you that even when Natsuo was temporarily blinded by this hatred, he was still aware of his surroundings and those that were important to him.

This was only confirmed when he lifted his head to look at you with a smile, though it was small. It was still present and seemed to put you at ease for the moment. “I’m okay but…” he once more turned away from you and a sigh escaped him.

“I convinced big bro to have fun with our quirks instead of doing what the old man wanted him to, but since he...died. I...I couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again and I’m sure sis feels that way too,” your frown deepened, ah so that’s why.

Maybe he fears he’ll lose the memory of his elder brother if he were to use his quirk again? “What else happened?” Natsuo looked back at you, confused for a brief moment before, “Oh...right,” he said as if he had almost forgotten he ran to you in broad daylight with tears streaming down his face.

He turned, bending down to slip his shoes off before he slid his backpack onto the floor. Then he proceeded to climb onto the bed or rather proceeded to crawl over to your pillows and plop himself down.

Being surrounded by your familiar scent eased him as did the fact he could stretch both his arms and legs out. You looked at him all sprawled out and comfortable. ‘Well...I guess if it makes him feel better,’ you thought as you watched Natsuo stare at the ceiling.

His face twisting with a variety of emotions that made you wonder just what caused him to cry in the first place. He didn’t deserve that, or at least not in your opinion. “She broke up with me,” he suddenly said, his voice somewhat quick and you barely understood what he said.

“Who?” you questioned as you got onto your knees and pressed your hands into the mattress, looming over Natsuo much like how a dog or loyal companion would. "My girlfriend…” he muttered as he once again looked to the side, you assumed it was an attempt to look away from your gaze which was a mess of confusion.

“Why did she break up with you?” It was said that getting your heart broken was hard to handle, but there had to be more behind this. You sat on your knees, placing your hand on your hip as you looked down at Natsuo who slowly turned his gaze back to you but seemed to avert it just as quickly.

Despite his overall twisted expression that laid somewhere between sad and angry, you also noticed the faint pink tint to his cheeks. Was that from anger or embarrassment? You honestly couldn’t tell. But Natsuo normally didn’t get embarrassed around you and you knew he knew he could tell you anything.

‘It must be from anger,’ you concluded as you continued to wait patiently for his answer. “I’m so tired of it,” he said in a soft voice which prompted you to lean closer. “Tired of it?” you repeated, clearly not understanding where that was coming from.

“I’m sick of being recognized just because of the old man's last name!” he exclaimed once more, though his voice wasn’t raised too high. It still caused you to jolt back, then again you should have realized this whole thing had something to do with his family.

Natsuo turned to you and impatiently pressed his hands against the mattress so he could sit up. His jaw was clenched again and his eyebrows slit in anger and the way he kept his eyes locked on you made you feel a little uncomfortable despite the fact you knew his anger wasn’t directed at you.

Then a sigh came and Natsuo’s head dropped. You saw this often when he was trying to collect or calm himself down. It honestly worried you that he was always going between emotions, trying to keep himself in check for the sake of others.

His eyes were closed, but when he opened them once more you could see the absence of anger. “I wanted to study medical welfare to actually help people…” he confessed as he brought his legs up to his chest and you watched as he wrapped his arms around them.

Those long sleeves of his hood concealing the contraction of his muscles and biceps. He seemed to stare off into the distance once more. “I wanted to make a difference in the world so the name Todoroki could actually mean something to me, unlike the tie it has to that bastard,” he hissed and like a switch, that anger was back.

You could even hear that soft rumbling of a growl threatening to admit from his throat. “I don’t want to be recognized as a Todoroki just because of him!” you opened your mouth to speak, but all thoughts and actions escaped you when Natsuo turned to look at you.

Once more sporting that angry expression which was terrifying in its own way. But then, it slowly began to fade into sadness and he lowered his arms. Allowing his hands to fall back onto the mattress, you couldn’t help but glance down when you felt his fingers brush against yours before you looked back up.

“I don’t want people trying to get close to me because of him either,” Natsuo stated and you gasped when you felt his cold hand engulf yours, taking firm grip as if he was silently gesturing to you that he needed some form of physical comfort.

“But that’s exactly what she did,” you felt that hand begin to tremble and you quickly gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She used you to get to your father?” you questioned, a little confused but still showing an effort that you wanted to get the story correct.

Natsuo nodded. “She’s an inspiring hero I guess," he said with a shrug, "and wanted to get close to me so she could have the chance to speak to my father,” his tone sounded like he had given up as he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

That ache in his chest returned, but somehow your touch prevented it from growing any further. “Guess I was more interested in caring for her that I didn’t see it,” he commented before tilting his head back down. “Just tired of it,” he repeated.

"I wouldn’t introduce my father to anyone I’m with...they deserve better than to be exposed to him!” you could imagine that’s how the rest of his story went then. His ex-girlfriend trying to pressure him into introducing her to Endeavor only for Natsuo to express his concern and reasons for why he couldn’t.

Then from there she must have gotten angry and confessed the truth. The whole situation was unfair and you could feel your own anger brewing, using people was one thing. But using them for your own personal benefit, pretending to love them?

That wasn’t exactly forgivable in your book. No wonder he was crying. “I’m…” would saying you’re sorry even do anything? You knew Natsuo wouldn’t take offense, but it seemed unfitting for the current situation. Instead, you found yourself leaning over.

Releasing his hand in order to wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you embraced him. Natsuo while not overly shocked at your friendly gesture, crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you even closer.

Though your back slightly hurt, you didn’t mind. Natsuo, while not completely touch-starved, still melted into anyone’s affection. You felt his stiff body finally relax and the cool touch of his cheek against your ear as he nuzzled the side of your head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, despite the fact, there was no one else around to hear you two. “I know I keep bothering you whenever-” you reached up to tug on the back of his hair.

“You’re not a bother,” you said in a stern tone, “and you should be happy that girl is now your ex, you didn’t deserve what she put you through,” your arms tightened around him just before you pulled back and grasped his shoulders.

Making sure he was looking at you before you continued to speak, “No one deserves that, you’re a wonderful person Natsuo and I know there are others that won’t care that you’re a Todoroki or that will help you make it into a name you can be proud of,” you assured him and watched as the faintest expression of hope washed over his face.

Just that alone meant the world to you and while you knew Natsuo didn’t need any protection, you still wanted to try your best to be there for him. “Come on,” you insisted as you crawled over him in order to reach the opposite side of your bed.

Though Natsuo took up most of the space, you managed to lay down and offered him your hand. That smile of his seemed to grow and as expected, he gently grasped onto your hand as he laid down by your side.

“You can stay here if you want, it’s still daylight and I don’t have any more classes for today,” you insisted and hoped he’d take the bait because you didn’t exactly trust he wouldn’t get emotional again later.

Natsuo always seemed to overthink things and maybe that’s where his sense of guilt came from. “Hm?” he glanced away and you were quick to speak. Taking a firm grip of his hand, you slipped your fingers between his and gave him a stern expression.

“Don’t let your guilt tell you that you’re going to be a bother, I want you to stay,” your words were accompanied with another reassuring squeeze, and once more his gaze was directed back on you.“...Okay,” he replied, you smiled and turned your attention to the ceiling.

Allowing your intertwined hands to remain nestled between you. Your mind was free of any thoughts, unlike Natsuo who was debating how he could even thank you for everything you did for him. Just listening to him was enough, but you went the extra step to dry his tears and invited him to stay for however long he wanted.

Was it that you knew he found comfort in you, your scent, your presence? Is there any way he could express his gratitude? Suddenly his own words came back, echoing like thunder inside his head. ‘I...couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again,’ he held his breath and slowly lifted his free hand, turning it so he could gaze at his palm.

The sound of his and Touya’s laughter now softly echoed alongside his words. ‘It’s been years,’ he thought before he turned to glance at you, but ended up flinching when he realized you were already looking at him.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, now that everything was off his chest he should be, right? Then again, you have been wrong before. Natsuo almost seemed to be in a trace, though his eyes hadn’t left yours and his hand remained lifted in the air.

‘Would I even know how to control it? I can’t risk hurting Y/n but if this proves how thankful I am to them then…’ he finally seemed to make a choice and he slowly turned on his side causing the bed to shake along with his movements.

“Can I see your other hand for a moment?” he questioned, knowing that if anything did happen to go wrong with his quirk that he could use the basic knowledge he learned from his medical welfare classes to hopefully undo any damage.

“Hm?” you seemed a tad confused by his request and why he was holding his hand up, but once more you reminded yourself that Natsuo had no ill intentions. You maneuvered yourself on your side much like him and slowly held your free hand out.

Natsuo smiled and carefully connected your fingertips, then he took a deep breath. Channeling his long-forgotten quirk to the center of his palm, though he could feel the cold rush. It came as a surprise to you. In fact, the sudden drastic drop in temperature coming from Natsuo's hand was an utter shock.

Even knowing quirks existed, this almost seemed impossible. “N-Natsuo?” you worried something was very wrong when you felt it, the cold rough texture of tiny ice crystals growing across your skin. You almost wanted to pull away as there came a slight pulsing pain with the bitter coldness that was Natsuo's quirk.

But instead, you looked to your hand, your jaw was clasped closed and your eyes were wide. Too focused on those ice crystals that continued to grow and slowly frost over the top of your fingers. You stared in amazement.

“I...b-but you…” your words were all jumbled together and you almost missed the fact that Natsuo’s palm was covered in a thick lining of ice and how red the skin surrounding it was. Still, even if this brought him some minor discomfort.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your reaction, the small feeling of heartache numb for the moment and replaced with a small dose of happiness. Partly due to you and partly because he was relieved he could in fact control his quirk even after years of refusing to use it.

“I just wanted to say thank you for being there for me,” he stated and though still astonished, you glanced back at him. Even though the small mishaps would more than likely continue to happen as well as people that would attempt to use him for their own personal benefits. You somehow knew he was going to be just fine.

#natsuo x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki natsuo

109 notes · View notes

i-need-air · 3 years

Note

Hey it's me again ❤️

I'm just gonna whisper something in your mind (is that even possible?)

Having a baby with Hybrid Katsuki.

Just that. Imagine girl. Perfection.

Ok, real talk here. Every time I see a request from you I uwu a little bit bc I know for a fact whatever you're requesting will make me get so immersed and involved and I'm gonna 💕💞AAAAAA💕💞 while writing AND [lemmecatchmybreath] it happened once again skdjdkfkf Hope you enjoy and sorry it took longer than normal~

Word count: 1.8k

× listen 🥺 I already started and I'm melting, ok?

× when he finds out you're having a smol baby together?

× he freezes and looks at you in a whole different light

× if you're getting pregnant, he will definitely smell the change in your scent and will know even before you do; he'd be instantly by your side with a bewitched expression on his face, taking your cheeks into his palms to just soak everything in yet he's shaking slightly

× and even if you adopt [hopefully a smol hybrid], something deep inside of Katsuki, burried and long forgotten surfaces

× this is the life he always wanted, he always craved even in his darker moments

× this happiness, this fulfillment, this joy

× I absolutely believe he will diligently read and learn everything about the baby to come; will educate himself like no other, deciding to be the very best father he could ever be

× his life was rough and he was stolen away from his biological family, he will now have a chance to have his own and he will not fail you or the baby

× when you hold the little bundle of sunshine in your hands, head down admiring the beauty of a new life, he will stand there, again in shock, again soaking this moment in... so beautiful, so perfect

× will he ever tell you that? of course not; angry ass wild pomeranian—

× but his face gives him away every single time and when you tilt yourself to hand him his new son or daughter, he falls in love for the second time in his life;

× he burries his nose in the soft and fragile skin of the baby's head and breathes in, his instinct kicking in to defend, protect, care, look out for...

× watch carefully because once the baby makes a noise, he'll still, unsure of what to do, but smile so softly as the baby coos in his arms securely; that right there is the best image you can have of soft Katsuki.

× the first few weeks are actually horrible, sorry to break it to everyone aksjskdj not because he doesn't know what to do or does not want to help; on the contrary, he is so incredibly attentive but he also recites the books he learned by memory at this point and it's getting absolutely infuriating;

× although understand him, please; he wants to prove he's a good dad 🥺 except you wanna smack him bc he scoffs if you suggest something he isn't sure about.

× you will find him standing by the baby's crib as it sleeps; he's just???? making sure this is not a dream????? don't question anything though

× can we hc Bakugou with a daughter too? [ already established in the Hybrid!Kiri hcs that Kiri'd have daughter bUT i just really really like beefy men with tiny daughters;;; my heartttt;;; ]

× his little angel, no discussion, no argument, his daughter can do NO WRONG!

× he's very down to earth though, don't get me wrong, he just absolutely adores spoiling her

× speaks softly into her ear, the lowest you'd hear from him

× gruff, raspy, gutural voice ofter overused to scream now low and soft as he holds her into his chest; doesn't do baby-voices or anything like that, but calls her his angel then smirks at you if you're watching;;; then starts softly complaining and bitching about you to the baby 💀 all while rubbing her back

× omfg his hand is as big as her tiny back; guys, call an ambulance, I'm—

× Katsuki would be the type of little shit to pull what I just said then grab you and glue you to his chest too; he'd look down at you both, eyes shining in such adoration he'd take your breath away just before he continues his ranting about you;

× once the baby starts being more interactive, her giggles specially the ones induced by her daddy will make him melt; absolute diminute baby with a small wiggling tail clapping her chubby hands at her dad? his eyes would widen suddently, ears snapping high in surprise and he's taken back by the emotions overtaking him

× he's gone, man; she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger and you can't do anything about it

× instantly acts all in denial if someone is around though; scoffs to hide is obvious smile, placing a palm on his mouth to further block it out and tickles her with the other, earning another fit of giggles

× please, don't tell him his whole tail is waving from side to side

× the only clear giveaway apart from his ears and it's;;; a d o r a b l e;;;

× specially when your daughter also starts wagging her tail in response whenever he does it;

× "Hey, come see what the dumbass is doing!" or "Look at what she did" while showing you a video; proud pappa 🥺

× we're bringing back Proud Bakugou bc hIS DAUGHTER iS tHe BeSt; no, seriously, his kid is the mf best in the world and he will start this presentation with—

× now sit down with me and accept this: the baby; yes, your sweet daughter; mhm, that adorable screeching angel; mhm;;; she'll talk so early it's disturbing.

× at 6 months or so she's already saying mamma, dadda, kitty, woof-woof

× seriously terrifying how sharp she is and how she cannot shut up; for the love of gOd, Katsuki, this is all your fault... it doesn't matter, he just smirks as he has another reason to brag to anyone about his child

× did that street vendor look at him funny? "I'M GONNA FUCKING TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAUGHTER—"

× super-protective of her and fucking hates with a burning passion if anyone dares to do that thing where they match up babies saying "Maybe they'll get married when they grow up"

× hands down, no filter, he just looks deep down in whoever had the audacity and says "Like fucking shit they'd deserve her."

× drag him away before he throws fists

× he will definitely if you don't drag him away and you know it, they know it, the baby knows it and cheers for pappa, the whole world knows it at this point and they're buying tickets to watch the shitshow

× chest carrier and walks around with the kid like a boss

× man has shit to do, don't even dare to judge him;

× handles fits really well, he's impressive to say at least

× she's spoiled, yes and always has new toys, coloring books, whatever she wants but the moment she throws fits, he puts his foot down

× baby would be smol angery bb all adorable in all her Bakugou genetics anger and he'd just stare, tapping his foot

× literally waits in place until she calms and looks up at him with big, round eyes, puffy red cheeks and ears lowered

× mission accomplished; he nods then picks her up;

× and you're there amazed??????

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" lil shit still has a foul mouth tho, but make him get just as pouty and embarrassed as the child in his arms by saying something cheesy like "How amazing you are as a dad 💕"

× all rainbows and unicorns until she starts repeating insults and fr tho, Katsu almost shits his pants, fearing your reaction. Will, hands down, chill out with the insults even if he meant no damage with them; he has this unreadable expression on, a mix of shame and fluster, dread too? he's sorry, ok????

× loves, loves, loves cooking for you both and once the kiddo has her own special chair to sit at the dining table together, that's when he sees it: his dream

× you, wiping some food off her cheek with a loving expression, talking about your day casually, baby giggling while she moves her face away playfully; he loves you both so much.

× has these rare moments where, at the end of the day once you're settled in bed, he'd hug you tight and thank you in his mind for... for this... all of it...

× once she starts walking they're both a disaster

× seriously, do not expect the household to be silent ever again [ well, that dream was gone long ago anyway lol ]

× "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

× rapid giggle running around from place to place

× "Oh, for fucks—"

× "Katsuki." you only need to say, catching him in his insults

× 😳 ... "Kid, come back, we're goin' to the park." Skdjkdfkl

× sudden adorable tiny fast steps approach him bc they're going for walkies!

× he is very careful with her and teaches her about stranger danger; also teaches her how to growl and even if her attempt is a total failure, small rawr leaving her lips, he's like "Yes. Good job. Now give it more heart."

× he growls as an example

× she growls back, sounding like a cute lil pup 🥺💕

× as she grows up, she obviously acts more like her father yet he knows when to stop the bad behaviors and it only takes a warning growl from him to get her to cease

× yet somehow you're the strict parent at the end of the day??????? tf????????? who made the rules??????

× starts calling her brat, squirt, lil shit 💕lovingly💕

× "your child" if she did something bad

× "Your fucking child kicked the ball into the vase and broke it." Aha, nice one, Katsuki. Good job.

× not to brag but her puppy eyes don't work on him but yours do; the problem is her puppy eyes do work on you bc she's the light of your life so if she wants something; she'll puppy-eye you knowing you'll get it for her bc daddy loves you very much 💕💞

× literally evil mastermind; didn't I tell you she's sharp? pft, she's playing you both so hard

× every day he comes back from work she runs to him at the door, tail wiggling happily behind her as she stretches her arms to be picked up and he always does, without a doubt, then proceeds to kiss the top of her head

× come out to greet him too? the whole loving routine is his absolute thing and wants to see you, have you kiss his cheek; he complains but adores it soooooo much!

× you have a family night; BONDING WITH MOODY POMERANIANS. Yes, plural, and it sounds perfect~

× even if it's just one of those animated movies he hates so much, he'll watch through all of it and make sarcastic comments just to make you both laugh; will grin satisfied asf if he manages to do so bc he's the best.

× will definitely want another kid, so how about maybe a boy??? hmm???

× asks you if you're up for the idea and if you agree, he'll roll his eyes and crack his shoulders, acting so very uninterested and purely exhausted yet his smirk would give him away:

× "Knew you'd torture me with another devil"

× throw him out, istg— 💀

#bakugou katsuki headcanons #noire writes #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #hybrid!bakugou #hybrid!au

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purecantarella · 3 years

Text

Sweet Promises

so this is overdue, i had this drafted a week ago but tumblr deleted ALL of my drafts :") so updates will take a little longer. i'll keep on writing but yeah, i'm gonna fix my account first. anyway, this is sort of my pride month fic. i genuinely hope you all enjoy it! 💖 disclaimer : shin yuna x female!reader, this contains hate speech and actions against the LGBTQ+ community. some angsty fluff ahead. reader's discretion is advised.

The story of your romance with Yuna was one of the classics. You'd been neighbours as kids and became inseparable as you both grew up and became best friends. Being attached at the hip since childhood, she knew your likes, your dislikes, your secrets, and your burdens. And you knew hers.

The attraction was hardly noticeable until Yuna had taken care of you after the biggest fight your parents had had to date.

The argument had been boiling in the house for the entire week when the brunette had come over to have dinner with you all since her parents had to work later that day.

"So, Yuna how are things at home?" Your father asked politely as you all ate at the table. Since all of you had sat down, the tension was present and eating away at the both of you. Yuna offered a polite smile before saying, "Good, Mr. L/n. But my dad recently got a promotion so he hasn't been home often and my mom is still looking for work." She explained hastily before taking another spoonful of food.

Your mother, who'd been glaring at your father, chimed in with, "Oh, see that, dear..." She began sarcastically. "Yuna's father has gotten another promotion." The man at the head of the table clenched his fist before giving the middle aged woman a tight grin. "And her mother is contributing something to the family, my love." With that harsh words were exchanged and they both screamed at one another, not even caring that both you and Yuna sat there in horror watching the adults fight.

She turned to you tentatively. As she saw you stare intently at your parents while your eyes glossed up with tears, she took your hand in hers under the table. Your gaze immediately shot to your best friend. She tilted her head to the backyard, silently asking you both to hang out there until things boiled down a little.

You and Yuna slipped out of the house and were welcomed by the cold night air and the beam of the moonlight. The shorter girl looked up at you, a broken expression etched onto your features. She gave you a small smile before plopping to the ground and dragged you down with her.

Giggles briefly swirled around the air, making light of the situation you were in. Once the both of you had settled down, she scooted her way into your lap as you chuckled and wrapped your arms around her waist. Your face nuzzled into her neck making her giggle. The night was almost serene, except of course for the heated debate inside the house. Yuna looked down at your comfortable features as she felt damp tears begin to trail down her neck. She bit her lip tentatively before placing her chin over the top of your head.

“It’s all going to turn out fine, N/n…” The brunette whispered in a baby voice, her hand moving to the back of your head. Making sure that you felt safe and secure despite your position. “I don’t know about that anymore, Yuna…” You paused to lean back. She shuddered as the cold wind hit the back of her neck, your warm embrace now missing. "This isn't the first time they've argued." You explained before returning to lean on her.

The dark haired girl turned her head, still cross legged, to look directly at you. It was a strange occurrence for her; seeing you so defeated. She'd always admired your strength in the public eye. You were the rock to her balloon. Yet here you were, so vulnerable. Yuna knew that she was the only one who got to see you like this. You needed her as much as she needed you, and that was always heart-warming to her.

But it was different this time.

The way she could feel your breath fanning her neck, the warmth that radiated off of you. Attempting to shake off the feeling, knowing you needed her support, she adjusted herself to no longer be leaning on you. Yuna moved to kneel in front of you, offering you a gentle smile, her hand placed over yours.

"I'm here Y/n. No matter what." She paused, leaning closer, brushing her nose against yours. "When things get tough, I promise I'll be here for you. For whatever you need, whenever you need it.” It was a simple enough promise. Something Yuna would always say. But there was something about the sincerity in her eyes and the proximity of her face, just a breath away.

You’d always known she was a beautiful girl. Everyone at school had their eyes on her but you’d just never seen the hype to her. She was your best friend after all.

Realizing you were both staring at one another, you pulled away and thanked her softly before laying down onto the grass to which she followed suit. You both stared up at the dark sky, your hands still intertwined.

After that, it became hard to ignore the creeping feeling in each of your chests that made your pulses hammer erratically. You couldn't ignore the butterflies in your chest when she smiled just for you, when her hand intertwined with yours, and when you cuddled how she propped her head over your chest listening to each detail, not letting a single thing run amiss.

It was the same with her. Movie nights became harder to navigate without getting too flustered, touches lingered longer between the two of you and it confused her to no end.

Before long, longing glances turned into loving stares and one drunken night after your highschool exams, you two finally kissed and admitted your feelings for one another.

Your relationship had become an open secret around the school and each of your households. Despite it being so out in the open, her parents had no idea. You were just clingy best friends to them. Which had become the subject of your petty arguments.

She was afraid to come out to her parents and with good reason. They'd raised her as a reserved child. Her parents wanted her and her sister to have a full and happy future. That came with a successful job, a loving husband, and kids. She didn't want to disappoint them. So you were understanding of her situation, as her best friend and her girlfriend.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" You said as you walked her to stairs leading to the porch in front of her house, handing her her book bag. She looked up at you and gave you an adorable pout. The dark haired girl wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you down to her level. You grinned dumbly, leaning lower. "You know, this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so small—"

She placed her hand at the back of your head. "You always like to run your mouth, N/n." Yuna teased before pulling you towards her, pressing your lips together ever innocent, ever sweet. You relished the feeling of her soft lips against your own, placing your thumb and pointer under her chin to deepen the connection.

Your arm was about to wrap around her waist when you heard a sharp squeal from the household's door. Both of you jumped back. Her head whipping to the side, eyes going wide in horror as she saw her mother looking at her with utter disgust and disappointment.

"Your daughter has corrupted ours!" Her father screamed to both your parents, his face going red in anger. You looked over at Yuna. Her lower lip was trembling, her eyes were red and puffy, and she had clutched herself as if preventing herself from falling apart right there and then.

You wanted terribly to hold your girl in your arms and tell her everything was going to be fine. But you knew that if you took even a step closer, you might not get the chance to.

Your father rubbed his eyes tiredly yet raised a brow at his neighbour. "What are you talking about. Y/n's been nothing but a good friend and person to your daughter." Her mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her brown eyes narrowing at you, silently cursing you before pointing.

"Or so we thought. Turns out she's been filling our angel's mind with sapphic and devious thoughts." She spat at you. Yuna tried pulling her mom back, begging for her to stop her attack on you before she was pushed back violently. "Do you see? This is all your daughter's doing!"

No longer caring, you strong-held your way to her. "Are you okay, baby?" You asked, your thumb tracing over her cheekbone in the most delicate way you could. Her arms jutted around your waist pulling you closer. "Shin Yuna, get off of the monster." Her father said sternly.

"That monster is my daughter." Your father said standing up. Both of Yuna's parents scowled at your father. "What's your issue here? These two clearly care about each other, why get in the way of their happiness." You smiled at your father's words as you made eye contact and he offered you a small smile.

"Well now it's clear that this isn't the child's fault, more so you both as parents didn't raise her right." Mrs. Shin said, tutting softly. Your mother then gave her a tight grin.

"If you're going to insult me, my family, and my manner of raising my child. You know where the exit is." Your father wrapped an arm around your mother, agreeing wholeheartedly.

The two glared at your family before turning a heel, motioning for Yuna to follow. But she simply held onto your torso tighter. The sneer on each of their faces deepened before her father spit in your direction and walked out the door, her mother at his heel.

Hours went by after the incident, her sister had called to check up on her and they had talked it through. It'd been decided that Yuna would stay with your family for the time being, not that either of you were opposed to the idea anyway.

You lay in your bed, she was curled up on your chest. Hiccups fell from her lips every so often as a result of her hours of sobbing. Your arm securely wrapped around her waist and your hand running through her hair as you whispered sweet nothings into her ear in attempts to calm her down.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I wish I'd never forced you to tell them." You said suddenly. Yuna got up to meet your eye. Her face was, at this point, flushed. Both your hands sat on her cheeks, wiping the damp patches on her skin. She choked on another hiccup before shaking her head. "No, it was right this came out now. I don't want to hide us anymore..." She paused, putting her hands over yours, pressing them harder. "I don't want to hide anymore."

You gave her a small smile before tentatively taking her lips again. Your forehead then pressed against hers, wanting to feel a little closer to her. Her eyes were downcast and her expression still grim.

"It sucks right now, I know." You paused to force her to look at you. As you looked into her gorgeous brown eyes, you finally said, "But I'll be here for you. Every step of the way. I promise."

A small smile crept onto her face as she asked, "Promise?"

"I promise." You sealed your words with another peck of the lips. You took her in your arms again. Yuna looked up at your serene expression and she'd felt content and safe.

She had you, you had her. That was your promise.

cheesy, overdue, and hella late. yeah that's my brand now apparently. HAHAHAHAHA i hope you all enjoyed and i hope you all had a good pride month. remember that if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable or bad for who you love, no matter who it is, it's probably best to distance yourself from them for the time being. love is love and you should never feel bad for feeling things. anyway, requests are open and i'm very open to criticism and comments are very appreciated. i love you all and stay safe always! 💖 mini update : tumblr said that they have fixed my tags and i hope you all can see this. taglist : @labrachrosite

#itzy #itzy x reader #itzy imagines #itzy yuna #shin yuna #yuna x reader #yuna imagines #girl group imagines #kpop imagines #gxg #girl group x reader #happy pride 🌈

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binniedeactivated · 3 years

Text

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦

[ m.list ]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

𝐖/𝐂 | 4k

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

POC = person of color

a/n; should this be a ff?

adriana didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. her dirty thoughts never stopped ever since he walked into her kindergarten classroom that one morning. with his sleek parted blonde hair, tall physique and lush pink lips she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him day in and day out. she had a job to do of course. teach the children, take care of the children and make sure each and every one of them were safe.

but myla rose’s father looked nothing like any man she had ever seen before. and it was a pity that his ring finger was occupied. that made her attraction to him even more difficult at the school’s open house.

adriana greeted every parent who stopped inside her classroom, guiding them to their child’s work display and giving short reviews of their performance in class. she was an excellent teacher. one of the school’s favorite in fact and every child loved her. the parents were always pleased with her enthusiastic attitude and compassion for their child. and this was evident especially when myla came running to hug her legs at the door.

“Hi ms. A!”.

in awe, adriana hugs her gratefully. “hey myla!”.

she glances up and with a warm smile the man takes her hand. “good evening, I’m choi yeonjun. myla’s dad”.

adriana smiles back a little harder than normal but she tried her best to conceal it. to her demise though, yeonjun didn’t come with just his beloved daughter.

“this is my wife, leah. our eldest son daniel. and this little guy right here--“.

yeonjun pauses for a moment to squat next to the baby stroller that his wife was pushing. he lifted the top of it a little, revealing the small one year old child who was currently dressed in a brown furry onesie with a dog ear hood. he sucks cutely on his blue pacifier glancing upwards at his father in wonder and being immediately surprised by the splashes of color around the classroom. he looked just like yeonjun.

“this is our youngest son logan”.

adriana smiles and coos at the younger child, “aww he is adorable. myla why didn’t you tell me about your little brother?”. she directs to the small girl with a pink ribbon wrapped around her ponytail. she rolls her eyes.

“because he’s annoying”. she says with more attitude than she ever showed in class. adriana laughs.

“nice to meet you leah. and hey daniel”. she greeted the eldest. he looked to be at least 8 years old. not very far from myla. he waves shyly, burying his face into his father’s chest. how lucky leah was, to have a family with yeonjun. as a single woman, dealing with families was always hard. it’s just what adriana wanted especially at this stage of her life.

“well, first things first myla is a pleasure to have in my class. she is always doing her work diligently like I ask and she’s always the first one to answer questions when it’s time”.

yeonjun nods in approval rubbing his daughter’s back as they were then guided to myla’s work display. he was here for his daughter he had to remember that. especially when his eyes kept slipping below adriana’s waist as she walked. but it was something about the way she walked. she walked like she wanted to be seen. as if she were inviting yeonjun’s eyes to admire her every curve. nevertheless he snaps his eyes back up whenever she turned around.

“and right here is myla’s art work, her math work, and her reading caterpillar. as you can see she really loves watercolors. her math work is outstanding. she grasps every concept I teach. and her reading caterpillar--eh it can be longer”. she playfully laughs. she tried to make the conversation as general as possible but with leah on her phone pretending as if she had no care in the world adriana’s only focus was on yeonjun who, didn’t hesitate to give an unforgiving stare into her eyes every time she talked.

adriana was an afro-latina beauty. black spiral curls dropping just above her mid back, deep set brown eyes, and full sensuous lips that anyone wanted to kiss with just one glance. and yeonjun took advantage of admiring her every chance he got.

“and um,” she fidgeted. “for each book she reads she gets a segment added onto to her caterpillar. the first student to become a butterfly wins a prize”.

“you hear that myla? don’t you want a prize?”. yeonjun cooed holding her hand. she nods excitedly. “yes!”.

“you have to start reading more okay? see look, your caterpillar is short”. yeonjun pointed at the green bulletin board. “can you buy me more books daddy?”. she asks in the soft voice that she knew would touch his heart.

“you already have enough stuff myla”. daniel chimed in, annoyed. wanting nothing more than to go home and play his play-station already.

“hey! you have stuff too”.

“you’re always asking for the most”.

“so what! daddy will buy it for me”.

“that doesn’t mean you have to ask all the time”.

“but--”.

“guys. enough. we’re not at home we’re at an open house”. yeonjun settled. all the while leah just stood there just as annoyed as them. she could’ve helped yeonjun calm the kids down but she didn’t. she didn’t even seem interested in myla’s work nor her progress. much less wanting to be there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,”. yeonjun apologized. “my kids are spoiled”.

adriana chuckles. “it’s alright I understand”.

“so how are myla’s grades? is she getting along with the kids okay? I know she can probably be a little chatty”.

“oh myla’s grades are amazing. she’s great with the other kids, rather a leader. she’s only chatty when I allow it”.

yeonjun hums in approval. “good job baby”. he coos to her. he pays his attention back to adriana though. “she loves you. she always comes home with stories about what game you played with them or what you taught them that day”.

“oh really?”.

yeonjun nods. “yeah she does. you’re a phenomenal teacher. thank you for taking good care of her”.

“thank you yeonjun. it’s no problem I love these kids like they’re my own”. adriana spoke, sinking into the hypnotics of his lustful gaze. the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “she’s a pleasure to teach”.

“thank you for this. so um--we go to the gymnasium now right?”.

“yeah, do you need help finding it?”.

“no it’s alright, I think I saw it on my way in. thank you though”.

“no problem. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your evening!”. she smiles sweetly.

“you too”, yeonjun nods, nudging his wife to push the baby stroller before they turned to leave. and adriana instantly wondered what he saw her in her. she was beautiful. but she wondered why he loved a woman with such an attitude. perhaps they had argument beforehand that she didn’t know about. but even that wouldn’t explain how careless she looked about her family.

and she was almost too careless. yeonjun could feel his adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of fucking someone new. it’s been a while since him and his wife had any kind of sex. she’d always blame it on the fact that she was tired and would postpone it to another night. but yeonjun had needs and once he saw adriana he became desperate once again. he didn’t want to ruin his marriage. god knows he didn’t.

but things in the choi household never went how yeonjun wanted it to go.

“give me back my controller myla!”. daniel shouts.

“no! you shouldn’t have cut the hair off my dollie! now your controller is going in the toilet!”. the smaller girl runs to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, leaving daniel angrily banging on it in agony. “stop it myla!!”.

“no I’m flushing it away!”.

all the commotion in the next room over was enough to startle logan, who was sleeping so soundly leaving yeonjun thinking that he was out for the night. but he wasn’t in this case. now he was crying and screaming to the top of his lungs and rattling his hands wanting nothing more than his father’s warmth.

daniel races to the kitchen, “daddy!! get myla she’s trying to flush my controller down the toilet!”. he screeches to his father who happened to be cooking over the stove top. “what do you mean she’s trying to flush it?”.

“get her! my controller is going to be broken!”.

overhearing the baby crying yeonjun rushes down the hall to get him, slowly lifting the infant out of his crib. still sobbing, the baby clings to his sweater and yeonjun shakes him gently hoping that his presence would be enough to calm him. but he could still hear daniel banging his fists against the bathroom door. yeonjun scrambles into the hallway and fiddles with the door knob.

“myla open up this door right now. you two are being too loud you just woke up your brother”.

“daddy?”. she asks innocently.

“yes this is daddy open up the door”.

there was faint shuffling on the other side of the door before she opened it. daniel gives a sigh of relief at the sight of his game controller sitting on the bathroom sink away from the toilet. myla glances up at her father with big eyes and the cutest face she could give. she’d do anything to avoid her father’s wrath.

“I wasn’t really going to flush it daddy”.

“give your brother back his game controller. why are you messing with him?”.

“he cut all my dollie’s hair off!”. she points, stomping her foot for good measure.

yeonjun looks back at his eldest son sternly. “daniel? why would you do that?”.

“daddy she’s always teasing me and being annoying”.

“give me the controller myla”.

she strolls to the sink and pushes the controller in her father’s hands while crossing her arms. yeonjun turns, “I’ll give you this controller but if i find out that you’re sabotaging myla’s toys again I’m selling your play station. If she’s annoying you come tell me so I can deal with her. I spend a lot of money on this stuff daniel”.

he huffs his breath with his back against the wall. “fine”.

“and myla,”. he turns, “if I find out that you’re trying to destroy your brother’s stuff again I’m selling your dolls. I spent a lot of money on that too”.

she gives a sigh that was identical to her brother’s. “fine”.

“good. you guys go play. where’s your mom?”.

“she said to tell you that she had to go someplace and that she’ll be back soon”. daniel exclaims while walking to his room. yeonjun checks his phone lock screen wondering where did she have to go at 9 o’clock at night. and the crazy part about it is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this.

“daddy?”. myla murmured fiddling with her fingers. yeonjun hadn’t notice she never went to her room.

“yes?”.

“can you buy me a new dollie? since daniel ruined my last one?”.

“yes. but stop teasing your brother so much and maybe he won’t mess with your stuff”.

“yay!!”.

“go on your ipad and pick one out. after you’re done show it to me okay?”.

“okay!! thanks daddy!”. she jeers, scurrying to her room already having the perfect doll in mind. yeonjun sighs, now looking at his messy haired baby boy who inches his tiny fingers up to press on yeonjun’s bottom lip.

“are you ready to eat logan?”. he asks in spite of the chaos that was going on in his mind. throughout the night he was calling leah consistently and she never picked up, her phone going straight to voicemail. so it was up to yeonjun, pretty much like it was every night. for him to cook dinner, for him to feed and change the baby, for him to make sure the kids are washed and ready for school the next day. and as frustrated as yeonjun was he always made sure he got everything done with or without her.

he was laying logan down in his crib for the night, the sleeping baby’s head falling tiredly into his pillow. he kisses him on his forehead and his cheeks before he heard the front door open and close.

making his way downstairs he spotted leah walking into the house, no--stumbling into the house with her work attire on. he approaches her before she could knock the kitchen chair over.

“leah? what is wrong with you? where were you?”. he whispers. she gives him a solemn glance trying to make herself look sober. it was failing miserably.

“I had to finish some stuff back up at the office yeonjun. don’t start”. she kicks her heels off at the door.

“don’t start? you’re never here. when are you ever going to be here? the kids see you once in the morning and then somehow you disappear for the rest of the day”.

“I just told you where I was. I’m going to bed now. I don’t feel like talking about this”. she brushes past him making her way to the staircase. the things yeonjun wanted to say to her-- but he bit his tongue. he didn’t want to pour his heart out just for her to leave him single and alone. had that been him coming in late and drunk she would’ve raised hell. accusing him of cheating and trying to kick him out the house. with three kids, the last thing yeonjun wanted was to be alone. it stressed him out.

and adriana saw it all over his face.

“hey, um- myla left her lunchbox in the car I just wanted to drop it off”. he approaches the vacant classroom-- the kids playing outside for the hour with the P.E teacher. adriana softly smiles at the man whom she wasn’t expecting to see so early in the day.

“hey yeonjun. no problem you can just sit it right there on her desk”. she guides. she was at the back of the classroom stapling work to the bulletin board.

“are you okay? you look a little stressed”. she adds.

“yeah I’m fine you know--just kids. they’re a handful sometimes. I’m sure you understand”.

“of course! I know how they can be at school. i don’t have any of my own though so I have no idea how they can be at home”.

hm, so she didn’t have any kids. yeonjun was annoyed with himself for even taking note of that. even worse, wondering if she was single.

“imagine a 24 hour school day. that’s exactly what it’s like”.

adriana chuckled. “god that’s brutal”.

“it is. you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. whenever you and your significant other decide to have children at least. it’s a world you haven’t known”.

she hops off of the stool to grab another sheet of paper to staple. she chuckles a little, “i hope this doesn’t sound weird but i actually look forward to that. whenever I actually get a significant other”.

yeonjun nods his head in disbelief. he wondered how a woman so beautiful with such an enthusiastic, compassionate attitude could be single at all. maybe she had a secret past yeonjun knew nothing about. perhaps she’s a psychopath. maybe even a gold digger.

but with the way she carried herself, in confidence but with humility, it attracted yeonjun he wouldn’t care if she was both.

“you’re single?”. yeonjun blurted out, wanting to smack himself for thinking out loud. she grins.

“why do you sound surprised?”.

while she stretches her arms up yeonjun stares at the small dip in her back and swallows. “well because you’re gorgeous”.

she steps off the stool again stifling a blush. she toys with the stapler in her hands.

“thank you and if i’m not mistaken it kind of sounds like you’re flirting with me”. she accuses, the cute grin of hers twisting into an innocent smile.

yeonjun breathes. it’s been years since he flirted with anyone other than his wife. but with the stress he was feeling nowadays he was willing to take any type of chance he could. he approaches her,

“it’s because I am”. he reassured, looking down at her hoping she felt the same way. only if he knew how much she thought about this moment, he’d take her right then and there. she pushes her face closer to his teasingly.

“aren’t you a married man? choi yeonjun?”. she licks her lips at the up close sight of his.

“please don’t mention my marriage while you’re licking your lips at me like that”. he monotones.

“or what? hm?“.

he grins, bending lower to hover his lips over her ear. “don’t test me adriana“.

his words sent chills down her spine. her heart races and before she could say her next word he was already glaring into her eyes soon after. he places his fingers at the bottom of her chin forging her attention on him.

“kiss me”. he demanded.

she clutches his wrist, half leaning in and half hesitant. she was uncertain. he had a wife. a family. children. but he was sexy and she could already feel her panties clinging to her now sticky folds. his lips were halfway there but he had other plans.

he sticks two fingers between his pretty pink lips while maintaining his gaze. adriana could feel her legs turning into jelly at the streams of saliva that slipped in between them and running down his hand. when they were finally drenched with the contents of his tongue he pulls them out and instead sticks his messy hand directly into her panties.

her lips parted and she tensed immediately, not gasping the air but gasping in his mouth---because it took almost nothing for yeonjun to pull her into a wet heated kiss. her lips felt just as yeonjun though they would. soft and full. she whimpered in delight as her tongue lolled into his hot mouth. his fingers slid through her slick liquid so easily, she was practically gushing for him and all he was doing was tracing his fingers around the circumference of her clit, not wanting to give her too much too soon. but the lighter his fingers were the more she twitched up into his hand. she wanted so much more. she needed so much more. her mind went blank.

“y-yyeonjun”., she mewls before he roughly sticks his tongue down her throat. she waited until she got another speck of air. “you’re m-married”. she partially wanted to warn, mainly because she didn’t want him to do anything that he was going to regret. he only let his fingers do the talking, allowing them to travel into her channel, pumping them into her gradually. she does that little innocent gasp again. the one that yeonjun likes, the one that made her seem like she’s never been touched before. the euphoric waves his fingers gave her was like venom, swimming through her nerves and making her legs tremble.

his hand searches for the back of her thigh and he lifts her leg around his waist, widening her legs.

“you’re thinking about my marriage and I’m thinking about pounding you into this fucking table”.

he watches her face contort in pleasure and he smirks. he couldn’t deny the hard on she gave him by her measly moans alone. she sounded so helpless and needy for more of him. she was dripping down his fingers and it took every instinctual part of him to not unbuckle his jeans. she pressed her body into his like a bruise, gasping into the crook of his neck as his fingers delve deeper into her. “ohh m-my god please ddon’t stop”.

pulses of arousal amended around yeonjun fingers and he sloppily kisses her hungrily. she steadily grinds her hips into his rhythmic thrusts in need.

“just like that adriana, fuck my fingers”. he groans into her mouth, she wondered if it was possible to get wetter at the sound of his voice. if not, she was definitely pulsating harder than before after he said that. with a shaky hand she reaches down to unzip his pants. “pplease fuck me I need it”. she whines, not being able to withstand anymore of the finger fucking. she wanted to be stretched. “pplease make it quick I have to go get the kids in 7 minutes”.

yeonjun lets her undo his pants, he enjoyed her desperation for him. it was hot and it was something he wasn’t used to. leah was never like this. but adriana was a woman who knew what she wanted and who she wanted it from. so it wasn’t as embarrassing for her to slide down on his dick the way she did. she was turned, her back facing his front where yeonjun could see her ass swallow his dick whole. he wasn’t going to fuck her initially since this was their first sexual interaction. but he was hard and she was needy so he didn’t care anymore.

the setting quickly fades from his mind while he watches her bounce against him wildly. his breathing becomes weighty and he grips her waist in absolute heaven, her slick sheathing his dick faithfully. he hid his bottom lip behind his teeth to produce a curse word but couldn’t quite get it out entirely; everything felt so fucking amazing and unbelievably so. broken curse words fluttered from his throat.

“fu--fuckk”. he utters with a low grunt. with her own electricity shooting through her veins and torso obscene moans fled from her lips and yeonjun clasped his hand over her mouth before she could get any louder. he had no intentions on getting caught but on the other hand it was hot hearing her unable to control herself.

her hips rolled down as she took up a measured pace riding him, her thighs burning but her movements were pleasing the both of them and the way yeonjun smacked her ass in praise gave her every reason to keep going. he soon met her thrusts by gripping her ass and grinding against it, chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come if she kept going at the same pace. “ohh my god”. she hissed. he was gripping her ass rough enough to leave a significant bruise. not that adriana cared anyway, it would be an honor to be bruised up by yeonjun.

“god I’m going to fucking cum all over you”. she whines, reaching down to play with her clit along the way. yeonjun fucked into her a bit harder, exhaling all the choked up groans he withheld until her juices was spilling down his dick with ease. she trembles, wiggling her ass on him a bit longer before rushing to pull her panties up and look presentable for the rest of the school day. she was shocked to see that yeonjun was still hard as a rock, yet he was zipping up his jeans.

she clutches her clipboard, totally not expecting yeonjun to grab her from behind and kiss her on the cheek the way he did. she felt his bulge pressed against her backside.

“next time ride my dick until I cum”.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun smut #dilf!yeonjun #txt smut

311 notes · View notes

sariahsue · 3 years

Text

Footsteps

Marinette’s about to get married to her soulmate, a man she’s never met before. Too bad she meets that cute groomsman in the hallway first. Rated G. 4,000 words.

***

Marinette bunched the white lace of her train into her fists and walked faster, eyes searching the empty marble hallway. Just keep walking. She could get through today. One foot in front of the other.

All she needed was some fresh air. She thought a building as enormous as this one would have at least one window that she could open. Instead, sunlight streamed through vaulted arches taller than the bakery she'd lived in her whole life, mocking her.

Marinette poked her head around a corner into a side hallway, saw nothing but closed doors, expensive paintings (that couldn't be an actual van Gogh, right?), and a plush white rug, and walked past.

All she needed was a few quick breaths, a little bit of air to cool off her flushed face, and a few minutes away from her hovering family and bridesmaids so she could pull herself together. And then she would get right back.

How big was this building? Each hallway she looked down offered a new way to get lost, with smaller hallways coming off of the side hallways and as many doors as there had been guests and staff just an hour ago. She gripped her train harder. Staff that had disappeared to the banquet hall to set up for the reception. Guests that were nowhere in sight because they were being seated in the chapel right now.

A door snapped shut somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, her heart in her mouth at having been caught, but no one was there. Her eyes traced crystal vases on marble tables only put there to break up the vast space the building contained. Nothing moved. And nothing looked familiar.

Can I even find my way back now?

It was a problem she would have to deal with later. She didn't have the capacity for one more thing to go wrong right now, so she marched forward to continue her quest.

Her heels click-clicked as she walked across the polished floor, and she could have sworn she heard the door closing once again.

The shoes were going to give her away. With shaking fingers, she reached down and unstrapped them. They swung from her hands as she kept going.

Just a few days ago, Marinette had been so excited to finally meet her soulmate and get married. Why had the feeling deserted her today?

She knew the answer. All week it had been building, but now that the day was here, the swirling anxiety that had been simmering below the surface of her joy just couldn't be ignored any longer.

Most people gave themselves a few weeks or at least a few days after meeting their soulmate to get married, but her husband-to-be, Adrien, had insisted on being "traditional." No seeing each other until the wedding. She hadn't even talked to him on the phone yet. They would fall in love at first sight, as she walked down the aisle. If she'd met him before, maybe right now she wouldn't be so-

Marinette bumped into a glass-topped side table, sending the empty crystal vase on top tilting dangerously. Dropping her train, she managed to grab it before anything smashed. She stood there, frozen, listening, waiting to see if anyone would scold her, but no one was around. With a whispered "Sorry!" at the vase, she put it back in its place and kept searching through the maze of hallways.

It must have cost a fortune to rent this humongous mansion for the day. A new worry stuck in her throat. I'm not going to be able to fit in with my husband's family, am I? Adrien would love her completely. That's just how it worked. But what if her in-laws hated her because her parents weren't rich too?

Her panic spiral was halted by the sight of a familiar blue rug pattern in one of the side hallways. Marinette made her way over, window quest forgotten, and she tripped over her dress the whole way there.

The long, white walls were filled with paintings of fruit and flowers, like the ones she used to make in art class (but with lighting skills so good it made her want to cry), and no… she hadn't been down this way before. Even as upset as she was, the artist in her would have remembered.

Marinette took a few seconds too long to glare at an apple, and by the time she heard the whispering, it was far too late for her to hide.

"Sneaking," a male voice whispered.

Marinette turned toward the voice. Had someone seen her? Did someone know she was roaming the building alone? She saw no one. And she saw nowhere she could quickly hide.

A few feet in front of her, the hallway turned a corner and continued out of sight. Some of the hallways had been like that, leading to more corridors and rooms that she hadn't bothered to explore. The footsteps came closer.

"Sneaking around the corner."

If she held very still, maybe he wouldn't notice? She walked backwards and pressed into the white wall, the fabric of her dress rustling loudly with every step, every breath she took.

His shoes squeaked as a hunched figure came into view.

"I'm not sneaking!" Marinette blurted out as soon as she saw him.

He jerked up straight.

She noticed three things instantly. He was blond. He was holding his hands around his eyes, like binoculars or a mask, and he was in the nicest tuxedo she had ever seen.

The man was also quite a bit taller than her, but he still jumped back in alarm when he saw her, and finally lowered his hands. Brilliant green eyes went from shocked to soft and warm and inviting.

"S-sorry," he finally said. "I was the one sneaking around. No worries."

"Oh," Marinette said, heart beating in her throat. "Right. I wasn't sneaking."

He smiled, and Marinette was glad she was already leaning against a wall. He had to be the single most beautiful human being she'd ever met her in life.

"Um, nice to meet you?" he said. When he held out a hand to shake, she quickly took it. His hand was soft and gentle and warm. No ring on either hand that she could see. Gorgeous and single!

Guilt swept through her, making her drop his hand. Here she was, getting married in literally a few minutes and ogling someone else. But he was still smiling at her. No, she had to stop thinking like a single woman. But he was so pretty.

"Of course. So, uh," He looked down at her dress. "You must be the bride, huh? Marinette? Nice to meet you."

Sweat prickled on the back of her neck. Judging by his outfit, she'd just been caught by a member of the groom's wedding party, a groomsman or a family member. Would he tell her future husband that she was out here getting cold feet? Not that it wasn't true, but she didn't want her soulmate to know about it.

"And you are?" she asked, hoping to divert attention away from herself. "One of the wedding party, right?"

"Yeah," he whispered and reached for her hand again. "I am. I was out here looking for you. I'm A-"

She shrank back. No matter how much she wanted to, she shouldn't be thinking about him this way. She was getting married to someone else.

The man dropped his hand quickly, eyes roaming her face, like he was looking for what he had done wrong. When he couldn't find anything, he ran his fingers through his hair and stammered out an apology. Marinette watched each lock fall back into place, the light catching each strand and making him glow.

"I'm-" he tried again, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Ni- W-winston."

"Winston?" Marinette couldn't help but laugh a little. That was the least French-sounding name she'd ever heard.

"Winston the groomsman," he said, not looking at her. "Yes, old family name. My father's name, and his father's name, and I think I have an old uncle. Because we're British way back there somewhere on my mother's side-"

"Nice to meet you, 'Winston.'" It was apparent he was nervous, and she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. "What are you doing out here? You were looking for me?"

"Um." He looked around the hallway for inspiration, and Marinette immediately regretted her question as she watched his discomfort grow.

"I- He- The groom wanted to meet you before the wedding," Winston confessed.

"He did?"

"Yeah, he wanted to break tradition and see you, but Fa- his father is stifling stick in the mud."

"Yeah?" The knowledge was somehow both comforting and unsettling. She and her future husband had both wanted to meet first, but her father-in-law… she wasn't going to fit in.

"Yeah," he breathed. "He can't wait to meet you. But he couldn't get away, so I thought I'd come out here. And, wow, he's going to love you. You're amazing."

Marinette flushed at the compliment. "Isn't that how it's supposed to work? Love and first sight and everything?"

"Sure," Winston said, "but you know what I mean."

In the distance, an organ started playing softly, but Marinette barely heard it. This man would go through all that trouble for a friend of his? He was so kind, and she was going gooey under his intense gaze.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked quietly.

Just like that, the glow was gone. Would he believe the truth, that she was just hoping for some fresh air? He might be sympathetic. But he might not be. Who would feel sorry for a bride on her wedding day?

"I was… looking for the bathroom and got super lost." She adjusted her skirt with one hand to give herself something to do and then laughed nervously. "This place is such a maze."

Winston didn't answer right away. He studied the train of her dress, mouth a thin line of disappointment. Her shoes dangled from her loose fingers as she waited, and she adjusted her grip.

"You don't have to get married today, you know," he said. "You can call it off."

Marinette squirmed at how perceptive he was - or maybe she was just obvious - and pushed her hair out of her eyes. When it fell back into place, Winston reached out to tuck it behind her ear but stopped himself. His hand hung there awkwardly between them until he let it slowly fall.

"It's okay to be nervous," he said. "I know lots of people who didn't go through with their weddings. Loads."

Marinette smiled at the lie, grateful he was trying in spite of everything, though she was still a little worried he was going to tell Adrien about this conversation, or that word would somehow get to her future in-laws. She wasn't sure which would have been worse, giving her in-laws ammunition or disappointing Adrien.

"No, I really did get lost," she said. "I didn't mean to get all the way over here." And to make it sound convincing, she added, "Do you know the way back?"

"I can walk you." Adrien stood up straight, his smile returning.

"Oh, you don't have to," Marinette said quickly. There might still be a chance for her to find a window and that breath of fresh air she'd been hoping for.

"I insist." Winston held out an arm for her, and like the idiot she was, she eagerly took it. His free hand settled over hers, and they began to walk.

Her heels swung from her other hand, and without their added inches, the difference in their height was ludicrous. But Winston didn't comment on it, just matched her pace without making her feel rushed.

Together, they left the small hallway and stepped back into the still deserted main hallway. Sunlight poured through the windows, reflecting off the gleaming floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers high above. Winston's hand on hers was comforting, and he was so sweet to help her, but now there was no chance for her to get away.

Feebly, she said, "I think I recognize this part now. You can get back."

"Oh, they won't miss me," Winston said. "I'll make sure you get back safe. Is there anything else you need?"

Marinette sighed. As kind as he was handsome, and she hoped he never removed his hand from hers. Why did he have to be so nice and gentle?

After several more turns, she really did start to recognize things. How had she wandered so far? Her family must have been worried by now.

Marinette didn't bother to escape from him again, and Winston didn't let go of her, even when they stopped in front of the bride's room with its white and blank, gleaming, bronze plaque.

"I can't wait to see you coming down the aisle in a few minutes," Winston said. He lowered his arm, and her hand slipped away from his sleeve. She felt the loss of his touch immediately. "I mean, if you still want to," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine," she squeaked. "Thanks."

"Okay," he said, waving goodbye without moving away. "Great. See you."

Yup. He was definitely the most adorable, sweet, and beautiful man she'd ever met. "Why couldn't I be marrying this guy?"

Winston took a step back. "What?"

Huh? She'd said that out loud? She'd said that out loud!

Fumbling for the handle behind her, Marinette said a hasty goodbye and launched herself through the door and slammed it shut without looking at his expression. What was she supposed to do now?

"Girl, where have you been?"

In seconds, Alya, Sabine, and Tom were gathered around her. Marinette leaned her back against the cool door, wondering if Winston was still staring at the spot where she'd been standing.

"Are you all right?" her father asked.

"Just needed some fresh air," Marinette said, staring at their shoes. "Then I got lost. Have you seen this place?"

"Marinette," Sabine said, lifting her daughter's chin with one soft hand. "You can tell us the truth."

The tension in Marinette's body all came out in a rush. Her shoulders slumped, and she slid down the door two inches.

Tom brought over a chair, and Marinette tried to sit down, only to find that her dress was caught in the door. What else could go wrong today? Without peeking into the hallway, she opened the door and removed her train - to her relief, it didn't look like she'd ripped it - and then collapsed into the chair.

"It's okay to be nervous," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded, though that wasn't the entire problem anymore. She was supposed to be marrying a friend of "Winston's" in a few minutes, maybe his best friend or even his brother. He would be standing there, witnessing her marriage, knowing what she'd just said. How was she supposed to show her face out there now?

Her parents and Alya doted on her, trying to put her fears at ease, but it was only making everything worse. She couldn't ignore her anxiety while everyone was talking about it. They flitted around the small room, fetching her water, guiding her to sit down in front of the triple mirror vanity, offering to brush her hair out. "That always calmed you down when you were little," Sabine said.

Marinette nodded.

"If it makes you feel better," Tom said, "I'm sure he's just as nervous as you are. I was nervous, too."

"Everyone expects you to be a little anxious." Sabine picked up the bristle brush while Marinette avoided looking at herself in the mirror. "You're marrying someone without ever having met him. That's terrifying. But you're going to be okay."

Marinette nodded again, dumbly. They waited for her to say something, respond with her usual cheerful attitude, and when she didn't, Alya jumped in.

"Sabine, didn't you get married and move to France at the same time?"

All four of them knew the story. Marinette had grown up hearing it, had loved hearing her parents' own love story.

"I found out my soulmate's name two days after my twenty second birthday," she said. Marinette could almost mouth the words along with her mother, they were so familiar. "I couldn't believe he was so far away. I started teaching myself French almost immediately, but the first time we got on the phone to speak to each other, all I could say was hello!"

A tug on Marinette's scalp told her that Sabine had found a small knot. She set the brush down and started to pick at it with her fingers.

"I moved away from home to a strange country, and was learning a new language, and was nervous about meeting my soulmate, but as soon as I saw him, it didn't matter," Sabine said. "You're going to be fine. As soon as you see him, you'll love him, and everything will be okay."

"I know all that," Marinette said. "But I'm scared now!" Not to mention distracted by "Winston," and the crushing guilt that reminded her she shouldn't be.

"Well," her father cut in. "What do you want to do about it, Marinette? Do you feel like we should wait a little bit?"

"Yeah," Alya added. "We can tell them there's something wrong with your dress or whatever if you need a few more minutes."

"I'm sure Adrien would understand," Sabine said. "He seemed very kind when we talked to him."

A few more minutes sounded wonderful, a chance to collect herself, do delay the inevitable. Or a chance for her anxiety to get worse. She took a deep breath. "No, let's just get this over with."

"Very convincing." Alya picked her clutch up off the vanity and started fishing around inside it. "You sound so pumped. Let me just text Adrien." Alya pulled out her phone.

"No," Marinette said, covering the phone with one hand. Her fake nails clicked on the screen.

"Waiting's not going to make it easier. I don't need any more time to worry. It's like you said, when I see him, everything will be fine. So let's just so see him. I want to see him."

"All right." Alya dropped her phone onto the table and grabbed the eye shadow. "Come here, then."

Marinette sat as still as she could while Sabine finished her hair and Alya did her makeup and Tom hovered around, asking what he should do to make her feel more comfortable. When they didn't give him any ideas, he started telling funny stories from Marinette's baby days.

Marinette only half listened, making sure to smile when someone else laughed. Maybe Winston had asked "What?" because he hadn't heard what she'd said. She had said it quietly, after all. That was logical.

Eventually, Tom had to leave the room to check on how things were progressing. Marinette missed his voice and his stories. The silence was too easy for her anxious mind to fill.

If she could just make it a few more minutes, if she could just make it to the altar, then she'd fall in love with her soulmate at first sight and everything would be great. No more worrying. No more wondering.

The final piece of her outfit, her veil, was laid out neatly on the flower-print sofa, waiting for her. When Alya declared her face perfect and Sabine could find no hair out of place, Marinette strapped her heels back on and stood, knees shaking, and retrieved her veil. She seemed like another woman in the mirror as she watched herself put it on.

Marinette did want to meet Adrien. She did. A few days ago, she'd felt excited. Just his name was enough to put a smile on her face. Her parents had met him, and she'd devoured every detail of him they could give her. Elation had bubbled through her chest as she had designed her wedding dress. It had taken weeks to finish simply because she was having so much fun designing it that she hadn't wanted to stop. If she could remember what it had felt like then, maybe she could recreate the feelings now.

The door creaked as it opened, and Tom walked back in. "It's time," he said, extending his arm for her.

Marinette plastered a smile onto her trembling lips and leaned on his arm to compensate for the weakness in her knees. No one else needed to know about her struggle, least of all Adrien.

The walk down the hallway to the chapel didn't take as long as Marinette thought that it should have. The organ music was too loud, but still not loud enough to drown out the breathing and whispers of a room full of hundreds of people, everyone who was ever important to her, and more that she would get to know well in her lifetime as Adrien's wife.

The processional song began to play, and Marinette walked in, staring at the pink petals on the carpet in front of her. Pews creaked and fabric rustled as everyone stood for her. And she kept her face down.

Don't make eye contact with the groomsmen. You're getting married to Adrien, so don't look for adorable "Winston."

Marinette forced her face up, searching out the people she knew. For her bridesmaids and Alya, her mother in the front row. Her school friends throughout the year, aunts and uncles who had flown from all over the world. A few held tissues, some waved at her. They were all smiling.

Everyone was smiling except for her.

She should be looking at her new husband - her soulmate - for the first time. He was probably looking at her. Had he already fallen for her? Was he wondering why she wasn't looking at him?

That curiosity was nothing compared to how much she wanted to look for the man she'd met in the hallway. There was something seriously wrong about that. It went beyond the guilt that she felt. It was a strangeness in the situation that she didn't have time to think about.

The line of petals thinned and disappeared halfway to the altar, and the organ music swelled.

The temptation was too great. Marinette raised her eyes, looking at the groomsmen first, looking for the friend that shouldn't have liked as much as she did. Because she was marrying someone else, she reminded herself as she quickly scanned their faces. And because she had only known him for about two minutes. What was wrong with her?

Her gaze skimmed them all twice, three times, but Winston wasn't there. Her footsteps stuttered to a halt before taking a big step to match her father's long stride. The hand holding her bouquet started to sweat.

Could he not bear to watch her marrying someone else? No, that was ridiculous. He didn't feel the same way. He wasn't feeling torn like she was.

He had definitely been part of the wedding party. He'd said so. So who was he?

The carpet ended, and Marinette heels clicked on marble as realization clicked into place. He was part of the wedding party, but not one of the groomsmen, so that must have meant…

For the first time that day, her heart pounded from something other than anxiety.

Marinette held her head high and looked for him. And she found him. "Winston." It had been a ridiculous name anyway. Adrien suited him much better.

Adrien smiled broadly at her. That wonderful smile she first saw out in the hallway was now a hundred times brighter, focused solely on her. He had snuck out to see her, had so gently guided her back when she was lost, had made sure she was comfortable, and offered to call off the wedding.

No wonder she had liked him so much. Love at first sight, just like everyone said.

He reached out a hand for her as she took the last few steps to the altar. Marinette slid her fingers into his, and they fit perfectly.

"Hi, Winston," Marinette whispered as she nestled herself into his side. "Could the groom not get away again? Are you getting married for him too?"

"I said the groom was going to love you," he said. "And I was right."

The last notes of the organ faded away, and a hush settled over their friends and family. This was it. They stepped together up to the altar. The first step of their lives together.

***

Author's note: Merry Christmas! You're getting something completely un-Christmasy. Huge thank you to @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs, @vivalasaturn, and @noirshitsuji for reading over my outline of this and making sure everything made sense!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #arranged marriage au #soulmate au #incorrect quotes

334 notes · View notes

sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Part 3

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus.

The mad Prince of Notaleveale.

Remus was coming here. Remus was coming to Steveange and if Romulus saw him-

Roman had to leave.

Which was easier said than done; when the streets were crowded with hoards of shoppers and revellers all pressing against him, blocking his path, stealing the air out of his lungs-

“Roman!”

He needed to go. He need to find Virgil and Patton in whatever rooms they’d managed to find, collect his belongings and-

No. That would take too long – he could replace the clothes and books, he already had his sword-

“Roman, what’re you-”

- but he needed his lute. To make any kind of living he had to be able to perform. It was the only thing he was good at and once he’d got away he’d be -

He could do it. He’d run away before. He survived alone, without anyone, he could do it again and-

“Roman! Stop!”

He stopped.

Logan. Heading towards him. But he hadn’t given a time frame and if Roman grit his teeth and pushed past the spike of pain he could start to move again in just a second-

“Wait!”

Dammit.

Roman waited. Fists clenched by his side, until Logan was next to him.

“Roman.”

His chest was tight. His brain wasn’t -wasn’t working right and Logan looked so odd, with his glasses askew and his face flushed – had he been running?

“I thought I saw Patton.” Roman blurted.

It was the first excuse that popped into his head and it was clearly not – not good enough. Logan was frowning at him, a pinched expression, studying him like an experiment and-

Roman hated him, suddenly.

Logan was an upstart swot with ideas above his station and a chip on his shoulder. He poked and prodded and lost them jobs with his terse words and his better than you attitude. He reminded Roman of the tutors who snap at him for his lack of understanding and bark orders for him to recite, repeat, remember, to be better, smarter, stronger: someone worthy of his title.

He reminded him most of all of Julius. His fathers closest advisor, who had been charged with unravelling the Princes’ curses. He was the one who had helped Romulus learn how to push against his curse. He would give him orders that were almost impossible to follow and watch with cold eyes as Romulus struggled to disobey. Together they’d categorised how much pain he could withstand, what orders could be navigated and misinterpreted and which ones he was truly helpless against.

Once, he’d bid Romulus to stand on one leg. And left him there until his muscles started to cramp and shake, waiting to see if gravity or the curse was stronger. Romulus had been in tears by the end. Had even wondered, briefly, about complaining to his parents. But is was such a silly, innocuous order compared to other experiments. What had truly upset him was how Julian had just stood there, not speaking, his eyes distant and cold and calculating as he noted down every twitch and whimper from the boy. Even when he circled him, Romulus could feel those eyes boring into the back of his neck like a-

“Princey.”

Roman blinked. Julius’ practice room disappeared, replaced with the sights and sound of the Steveange street. Logan was in front of him and his eyes were far from cold. When he spoke it was with the same gentle tone that Roman had heard him use when Virgil’s worries overwhelmed him or when Patton woke from a nightmare and didn’t know where he was.

“Did the cro- the woman. Did she say something to you?” Logan was holding his hand. Gently but firmly, he tugged at Romans tightly clenched fingers, encouraging them to unfurl. Roman stared uncomprehendingly at the deep crescent marks he’d made in his palm.

Slowly, Logan released his right hand and reached for his left, repeating the process.

Roman felt shame ripple through him.

Logan wasn’t Julius. Logan would never push him so far he broke.

Logan was his friend and Roman has made him worry with his silly behaviour and his slapdash lie. But he could fix it.

He forced a smiled. Flexed his fingers and straightened up his full height. Made a show of looking around him.

“I swear I saw him. Big man, big sword, big smile – he’s hard to mistake!”

Hesitantly, Logan glanced around too before quickly refocusing on Roman.

“Are you sure you –“

“Ah well, the mind plays trick I suppose – must be hunger getting to me, speaking of which…”

Roman reached forward and deftly snatched the bag from Logan's grasp, reaching in blindly and shoving the first pastry he found into his mouth.

“Mmmm so good!” He beamed at Logan with berry stained teeth, flakes of pastry flying through the air. “Aren’t you going to have one?”

Logan stared at him. Roman kept his smile sweet and his eyes clear. He held up the bag and wiggled it enticingly.

Hesitantly, Logan took the bag and selected a tart. Keeping his eyes on the bard the entire time, he ate his treat with much more refinement then Roman had shown. “Holding back?” Roman asked, teasing, “I’ve seen you eat jam before, there’s no point pretending to have table manners now.”

Logan just hmphed but his shoulders relaxed slightly and Roman decided to take that as a victory. “We should get going” Roman said and started walking, Logan easily falling into step beside him.

The streets were crowded enough that none of the sellers seemed to feel the need to call to Roman specifically, and so this time he was free to investigate the stalls he was actually interested in.

But instead he stayed by Logan's side

Logan was a good friend. For all he claimed to lack an understating of emotional nuances he was letting Roman have his space. He’d even distracted him earlier, when his biggest concern had been the a spike of homesickness after meeting their northern customer.

He was nothing like Julius.

Roman was going to miss him so much.

***

Roman kept up his performance of normality all the way back to the main square, where they had agreed to meet the others once their mission was done. The sky was beginning to turn dark by the time they got there, though it was easy enough to navigate from the sheer number of stalls still in operation, each one boasting its own selection of colourful lanterns.

“This is fantastic!” Roman gasped theoretically, spinning on one foot to take in the whole spectacle.

“It’s a fire hazard.” Logan muttered with a frown.

They found Virgil waiting for them by the central fountain. He had manged to find a seat on the fountains edge but was wedged between two young couples who had clearly taken the romantic festival atmosphere to heart. The healer’s shoulders were up by his ears and his cloak was wrapped so tightly around himself it looked constricting. When he saw them he sprang to his feet so quickly he almost knocked one of the young ladies into the water.

“Took you two long enough.”

Roman and Logan glanced at each other.

“Logan got lost-”

“Roman kept wandering off.”

“-We brought you baked goods!”

Virgil took one of the two remaining pastries with minimal grumbling and led them out of the square. They took the north east road, a path that curved its wary upwards into the higher levels of the city. Here the buildings were all built of a blush-pink marble that sparkled in the evening twilight. The streets were wide, with neatly arranged flowerbeds and street lights which had the steady glow of Arkazeii glow lamps rather than the flicker of oil. There were certainly no traders spread out on blankets. Logan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Was this inn you found an…economical choice?”

“It was a ‘the whole town’s rammed and this was the only place with a room left’ choice.” Virgil snarked “and don’t worry – its one room for all four of us with no breakfast included, if you were worried about getting too… bourgeoisie…or whatever."

Logan raised his hands for peace.

“I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Well …we were lucky.” Virgil told him, and then glanced over at Roman, his lip twitching.

“Apparently they give discounts to performers.”

***

The inn was certainly a cut above their normal haunts. With brightly painted walls almost obscured by well pruned climbing plants, outdoor seating, and a wrought iron gate leading to spacious stables behind the building. Even the doors were of better quality then your typical village tavern – made of wood heavy enough to make a satisfying crash when Roman stormed in.

The room was crowded, but Patton really was hard to miss. Roman shoved his way through to the back table where the big man sat waiting. Leaving other customers cursing in his wake.

‘Hey kiddo!’ Patton greeted him with a wide smile “Did you-“

“Key.” Roman snarled.

Patron blinked and him, shock writ large on his face. “Sorry?”

“The key. To my room. Give it.” Roman snapped. “It is mine right? Since you seem happy to pimp me out in exchange for-“

“Hey!” That would be Virgil. Roman half thought he had left both men behind in his rage after Virgil’s little announcement, but the elf at least seemed to have kept up. He’d reached the table just in time to hear the start of Roman’s rant. “What the hell is your problem Princey?”

“My problem? Oh I’m sorry, I’M not the one signing other people up to sing for their supper without permission Virgil.”

“You like singing for your – we thought you’d want to!”

“Well it would have been nice to have a choice!”

“Virgil. Roman.” That was Logan, it had taken longer for the shorter man to force his way through the crowd but he wasted no time now in inserting himself into Romans business. “whatever this is… it’s not about putting on a show.”

He turned to the other two. Virgil scowling, Patton wide eyed.

“He had an…episode in the market.”

“Excuse me?” Roman shouted.

“Roman, whatever disturbed you, you practically ran away.”

“Well perhaps I had simple grown tired of looking at your face? Had you considered that?”

He turned his back to Logan, rounding on Patton again: “Now, give me the-“

Patton already had his hand out, wrought iron key resting loosely in his palm.

“We’re on the fourth floor.” he said calmly as Roman snatched it from him. “First door once you get up the stairs.” Roman spun on his heel only to find Virgil blocking his path.

“Move.” Roman hissed.

“What is wrong with you?” Roman narrowed his eyes. Virgil looked angry. Looked one second away from telling him to sit down, shut up, stop causing a fuss. He wondered if he could get past him without using his sword.

“I’ll bring you up some food in a bit,” Roman blinked glancing back at Patton, startled. The warrior still hadn’t moved from the table - admittedly no easy task in the cramped corner- and was looking at him calmly.

“I don’t want anything” Roman muttered, sullen.

“But you might later.” Patton smiled at him. Not knowing how to respond Roman turned back to Virgil. The elf glanced between the two, chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before sighing and stepping to the side. Not fast enough to prevent Roman from knocking his shoulder with his own as he pushed past however.

It wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped.

At a guess, the room was normally meant for storage not guests. Two rickety looking beds had been shoved in, so close together they might as well have been one. There was one small table forced between the end of one bed and the wall, with a basin of water perched on top. Someone, presumably Patton, had organised their bags neatly at the end of the beds. Roman’s was at the far end, closest to the window. Then Patton, then Virgil with Logan closest to the door, next to the only built in shelf where a candle had been left for the night. Roman would be able to wake with the dawn, as he liked to do, and Logan would have light for the longest to stay up and read.

Romans lute was not on the floor with his pack. Instead he found in had been placed on the bed itself, propped up on his pillow, away from any potential harm.

Whatever righteous anger he had been able to hang on too as he stomped upstairs dropped out of him now like a stone from a cliff. Without it, the despair he had felt in the market came rushing back. He sank down right there by the door, bringing his knees up to his chest as he’d done in the forest. As he used to do in Julius’ room.

He almost wished Julius was here – at least he would tell him not to cry.

The through was so absurd he let out a weak snotty laugh and buried his head in his arms.

He needed to leave Steveange.

He didn’t want to leave them.

But they had planned to stay for a week at least, hopefully longer.

Convince them to leave early? Except he couldn’t explain why. Find them a job out of the city? How? When the coronation and accompanying celebrations were over it would be easy enough to find a traveling group in need of a little extra protection, but for now no one was leaving.

They’d been excited to come. Virgil want to try the city baths, famed for their heated pools and soothing water. Logan had been talking about the library for half the trip. Patton was just excited to explore the city itself, meet the people and try the food. He loved when they stopped in busier towns but it was a rarity.

There was no way Roman would be able to convince them to leave just because he wanted to.

Roman did what other people wanted. It was all he knew how to do.

And even if he had a convincing reason…well, they probably didn’t want him around anymore anyway.

He scrambled up, grabbed the first pillow he could reach and buried his face in it to muffle a scream of frustration which turned into more sobs.

He was so pathetic.

Since he’d left home, he’d kept his memories, kept Romulus, buried as deep as he could. But now it was like Romulus was just under his skin. Ready to jump out If he let himself slip. With all his anger and hurt and fear.

Romulus was a liability.

Romulus was a murder. Or would be. If Roman couldn’t think.

He stepped over to his pack, still hugging the pillow to him like a teddy bear, and started to review the contents. He didn’t need to take all of this with him, surely? Half of it wasn’t even his, their belongings having become more and more intertwined the longer they travelled.

The healing salve was rightfully Virgil’s, the soft shirt he wrapped himself in during cold nights was actually Patton’s, at least one of the notebooks belonged to Logan.

He opened the nearest book to check, but instead of Logan's neat lists his own sloppy scrawl stared back at him. Song lyrics and passing thoughts and, on the next page, an unfinished sketch. It was of Virgil, hand covering his mouth but eyes betraying his laughter. The other pages, he knew contained scribbles of all three of them. He flicked back and found his favourite, the page marked with a yellowed leaf he couldn’t remember picking up.

It showed all three in one sketch. Logan, sleeping and so looking years younger, head pillowed on Virgil’s thigh. Virgil was turned towards Patton, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ but making no move to actually shift scholar off him. Patton was laughing, he was the most well rendered of the three figures, you could almost see his shoulders shaking.

Roman looked at it for a moment. Then slowly replaced the book mark and closed it. This would have to come with him.

A knock at the door startled him so badly he dropped the book, which bounced under the bed.

“Kiddo? Can I come it?”

Fuck.

Patton. He had -he had been so, so unbelievably rude to Patton.

His first instinct, which was admittedly not a good one, was to jump out of the window.

Roman took a deep breath. Focusing on the mundane task of sorting items had cleared his head somewhat. He was still a little shaky but his eyes were dry. He knew what would be expected of him now - Romulus had spent most of his life apologising.

“Come in.” he croaked and stood, squaring his shoulders.

Patton entered alone, two bowls of something that smelled delicious cradled in his arms.

Roman ignored the sudden spike of hunger – the fruit tart seemed a long time ago now- and bowed from the waist. He kept his back ramrod straight and bent low enough that it quickly became uncomfortable. It was the kind of bow Romulus would only have given his father or elder brother.

“Patton, I owe you my most humble apology I-“

“Roman I am so sorry.”

“The way I spoke to you was the height of disrespect and unprin- ungentlemanly behaviour I – wait, what?”

He straightened up and looked at Patton, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“Roman, I – wait hold on.” Patton handed him one of the bowls and turned to close the door. “Do you mind if we sit?” he asked and Roman nodded, smiling despite himself. Patton was the politest person he had ever met.

Once they were both seated, Patton’s bad leg stretched out in front of him, Patton looked at him seriously.

“Roman you were right downstairs. We should never have promised you’d perform without asking you first - no it's true!”

But Roman was already shaking his head. “Patton you were fine, you know I love singing! I was the one acting like, like some sort of beast I-“

“I know you love singing but that doesn’t mean we get to pick and choose when-“

“But I wanted to perform as much as possible whilst we were here- I’d told you that!”

“-especially after travelling all week. We were, er, presumptuous.”

Roman stared at him.

“Unlike this soup, which is pre – scrumptious.”

Patton beamed at him. Roman groaned.

“Anyway I’m sorry for letting you stew-“ he held up the bowl again waggling his eyebrows “- up here for so long, but we needed to make things right with the landlord.”

Roman, who had been starting to relax under the force of two puns in a row, tensed again. “What things?”

Patton smiled. “We paid the difference – you don’t have to perform! Uhh unless you want to of course, but it’s your choice.” He nodded decisively whilst Roman gaped.

“b-but isn’t it expensive?”

Patton just shrugged, “Well, the last job paid well didn’t it?”

“Not that well!”

“Aw c’mon kiddo, what’s the point of having money if we don’t spend it? Right?”

Not knowing what to say. Roman shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth without tasting it. Guilt turning the meal to ash.

“Patton…how many days did you pay for?”

“The rest of the week! And there’s still enough to have some fun at the markets, don’t worry, we can all have a – hey!” Patton put his bowl down, shuffling closer to put one warm hand on Roman’s knee.” Roman, hey kiddo, buddy what’s wrong?”

Roman found, quite to his surprise, that he was trembling. He followed Patton's example and put the bowl carefully on the floor before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I…can’t Pat. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

“Go?” Patton looked at him with confusion clear in his big brown eyes, “But why kiddo? You don’t like the inn?”

Roman groaned shaking his head “not the inn. The city. I’m not – I can’t – if ‘m here it- “ he let out a whine of frustration, hating his curse heavy tongue.

Never tell anyone about our conversation.

“I just-“ My brother is coming and if I see him I-

“If – “ my brother is coming and he won’t be alone. There are people who know who I really am and I –

“Okay.”

Romans head snapped up.

Patton still had a frown on his face but when he looked at Roman his eyes were as serious as Roman had ever seen them. “If you can’t tell me the details it’s fine but-“ he lent forward, “Roman, are you safe here?”

Without breathing, Roman shook his head. No.

Patton nodded and squeezed his knee. “Well then of course we’re not staying.” Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and rested one large hand on the back of Romans neck. Forcing their eyes to meet. “Whatever it is – we will help you. You know that don’t you?”

Embarrassingly, Roman felt his eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll leave in the morning.” Patton told him. Patton stood up, taking Romans congealing stew and his own empty bowl and headed to the door. He paused, one hand on the door handle. “Everything’s going to be okay kiddo.” he smiled, “We love you.”

And he was gone.

For a long moment Roman sat frozen, staring at the closed door.

“Yeah.” He agreed, eventually. “Right.”

Except. They didn’t. Not really.

They loved Roman.

Roman had screamed and insulted them and instead of kicking him out of their group like they had every right to do, they had given up what little money they had just to make Roman feel better.

And Roman was a lie.

Roman was Romulus with a bad haircut. And Romulus was everything they weren’t’ – a stupid, pampered, prince with no power or pride.

Patton might be willing to upheaval their lives just on Roman's say so, But Logan and Virgil were more practically minded. They would want explanations. Might even demand them.

Never tell anyone about your curse. Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about it and put as much distance between you as you can.

Romulus was a liability.

One they shouldn’t have to deal with.

He strapped his lute to his back and secured his dagger in a hidden pocket that Virgil had taught him how to sow. Everything else he left, including, after a moments hesitation, his sword. He had been training Logan to use it, on and off, and whilst the scholar was no solider he was improving. At the very least, it would be some source of protection until they could hire another swordhand for their travels.

The climbing plants he had noticed on the way in made getting down from the window much easier than he had originally anticipated. Dusting off his hands he skirted the building, taking care to avoid the large windows of the main hall, until he found the entrance to the the stables.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he had stolen before when he first left home. He would have to again now in order to put some distance between the city and himself.

It wasn’t his worst plan.

And it might even have worked, had they not already been waiting for him.

When Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy. Even now, under the weak light of a covered lantern and with almost fifteen years distance from the memories, he still recognised him instantly.

“Good evening, your highness.” The Marquis smile was as dazzling as he remembered, although his eyes were colder.

He had no army with him, and no weapon that Roman could see. But then, why would he need one?

“Come with me.”

Roman went.

part 4

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #creativitwins #this chapter is just #roman having an extended panic and making piss poor decisions #but also having great friends #alas #sidespart writes #TS: Fall of Romulus

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justoneofthoseghosts · 3 years

Note

X me for Brettsey maybe about Matt meeting Sylvie's parents for the first time or Matt asking her parents their permission for marrying their daughter

Loved everything you have written!!

“Hey, you okay?”

Sylvie glances over at Matt who seems to be clutching onto the steering wheel of his truck just a bit too tightly. It’s early morning on Thanksgiving and they’re cruising through the highway on their way to Fowlerton to celebrate the holiday with Sylvie's family.

She notices Matt swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little nervous I guess,” he admits quietly, briefly looking at her before turning his eyes back on the road.

Sylvie lets out a startled laugh, “about meeting my parents?”

Matt nods.

“Matt, you shouldn’t be. I’m sure they’re going to love you,” Sylvie soothes, squeezing his arm.

She notes how he relaxes a little, loosening his death grip on the poor steering wheel, his shoulders sagging in relief.

“Tell me again what your parents like?” He mumbles.

Sylvie giggles before she turns down the volume of the radio and starts to give Matt tips, “okay, so Dad is a lifelong Colts fan. The words 'New England Patriots' are never uttered in the house unless it’s to bad mouth them. And Mom loves planting flowers in the garden out back and crafting, you know, scrapbooking, stuff like that.”

Matt listens intently, hanging onto every work Sylvie says.

It’s kind of adorable, Sylvie thinks, this man, who risks his life almost on a daily basis, running into fires and saving people’s lives, is anxious about meeting her parents.

When they reach the driveway of her parents’ home, Sylvie unbuckles her seatbelt, opens the passenger side door and hops out. When she looks over the shoulder, she sees Matt take a deep breath before he gets out of the car, like he’s trying to give himself a mental pep talk.

Okay, this man is truly adorable. Sylvie's sure he's met the parents of his previous significant others but the fact that he's still a bit on edge about meeting hers makes her feel like he really is taking this seriously. Not like she ever doubted he was though.

Sylvie grabs the bouquet of flowers for her mom and the bottle of whiskey for her dad while Matt takes out their overnight bags from the back of the truck. Sylvie loops her arm around his, smiling at him, as they make their way to the front door.

Before she knocks, she hands the flowers to Matt.

“Here, it was your idea so you should give them to her,” she winks at Matt and smirks at his slightly bewildered expression once he has the flowers in his hands. She raises her fist to knock but the door swings open to reveal an older blonde woman.

“I thought I heard something. Come here,” Sylvie’s mom opens her arms.

“Hey, Mom,” Sylvie says as she steps into her mother’s embrace, hugging the other woman tightly.

When Sylvie steps back, she introduces Matt.

“Mom, this is Matt Casey. Matt, meet my mom, Cynthia.”

Matt clears his throat before offering the bouquet of burnt orange roses and blush carnations to Sylvie's mom, “thank you for the invitation Mrs. Brett, these are for you.”

“Oh, call me Cynthia, Matt. And thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely. Now, come in, come in,” Cynthia says as she ushers them inside.

Matt exhales. One down, one to go.

Cynthia leads them both to the living room where an older man with greying hair is sitting on a recliner watching the football game. He glances over at them when they enter the room and breaks out in to a wide grin when his eyes land on Sylvie.

“There’s my little girl,” he booms, getting up from his spot and swiftly approaching them.

He pulls Sylvie in and Matt hears her laugh as she wraps her arms around her dad. It warms Matt’s heart almost immediately. Sylvie’s family seems so sweet and caring that it’s easy to understand how Sylvie grew up to be this amazing woman.

Sylvie and her dad are quietly talking before the elder gentleman notices him.

“Dad, this is Matt. Matt, this is my dad, Bob,” Sylvie mentions.

Matt holds out his hand, “it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Sylvie’s dad quirks up an eyebrow as if appraising him before shaking his hand. His grip is strong and Matt thinks he’s silently communicating something along the lines of if you hurt my daughter, I have a huge farm where you will become worm food and nobody will ever find your body.

He tries to smile but it turns into a grimace. He wants to say that he’d never hurt Sylvie but he doesn't think that would be the proper first conversation. Instead, he presents Sylvie’s father with the whiskey he brought. It's one that Herrmann told him was popular with the older crowd at Molly's and he hopes it'll help with buttering up Sylvie's father.

Bob takes the bottle and grunts out a thank you before walking back to his chair.

Well, one of two isn’t half bad, he thinks. He still has time to turn things around with Sylvie’s father.

Thirty minutes later, once they’ve settled down and Matt has sufficiently teased Sylvie about her super pink bedroom with the Nsync posters, they make their way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Cynthia is making stuffing for the turkey.

“Hey Mom, how can we help?” Sylvie offers.

Cynthia looks up from her task, “yams, salad, pie, take your pick.”

Sylvie smiles before walking over to grab an apron from one of the hooks and putting it on. Matt is about to do the same by Sylvie’s mom waves him off.

“Matt, honey, you’re a guest. Sylvie’s aunts and cousins are dropping by soon to help so make yourself comfortable in the living room. I think that football game’s starting to get exciting,” Cynthia tells him kindly.

Yeah, honestly, Matt would prefer to help out in the kitchen rather than have to make small talk with Bob Brett, who seems to tolerate him just because Sylvie loves him. Matt notices Sylvie observing him. He can tell she knows he’s still nervous about everything. She walks over to the refrigerator and pulls out two beers and uses a bottle opener to remove the caps. She holds both bottles out to him.

“Relax, Matt, he’s just my dad,” Sylvie points out.

Yes, and Matt thinks that’s the issue. He really wants to make a good impression and he wants that seal of approval.

“Besides, if you can swing around on a rope rescue, this shouldn’t be a problem, Firefly,” Sylvie teases, beaming.

Matt chuckles despite being an anxious ball of energy, “you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” Sylvie says before kissing his on the cheek.

So he squares his shoulders, takes the beers from Sylvie and heads for the living room.

Matt hands one of the beers to Sylvie’s dad who mutters a quick thanks, his eyes never leaving the television screen. Slowly, he takes a seat on the couch. He takes a sip of his beer watching the Colts trash the Texans.

“You seem like a nice guy, Matt,” Bob says out of the blue.

Matt turns to the older man, “I’d, uh, like to think I am.”

“Sylvie has always sang your praises,” he mentions, “even before the two of you got together.”

Matt raises his eyebrows at this information but smiles warmly at the thought that Sylvie’s been telling her parents about him for quite some time now. He can’t explain it but it makes him melt a little bit.

“And you get that look on your face at the mere mention of my daughter.”

Matt’s been told this multiple times by multiple people. How he looks like a lovesick teenager every time someone so much as says Sylvie’s name let alone when he’s with her.

“Well, sir, I really love your daughter,” Matt tells him sincerely.

And he does, with his whole heart. It’s terrifying sometimes entrusting your heart to someone but he’s not scared to fall completely with Sylvie because he knows they're in this together.

Matt can see Bob Brett tilting his head to the side, an unreadable expression on his face.

“That’s good to hear. Sylvie hasn’t been the luckiest when it comes to relationships. That last guy she was engaged to - I couldn’t tell her but I thought he was a jackass,” Bob confesses.

Matt chokes on his beer before glancing at Sylvie’s father, his eyes wide, taken aback by what he heard.

“You though, my money’s on you,” the older man continues, “so crack open that whiskey and call me Bob, please.”

Matt lets out a nervous laugh, “yes sir, er, Bob.”

Turns out, Matt didn't have to wait too long to win over Sylvie's parents.

#chicago fire #brettsey #fanfic prompt

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drabblingdraco · 4 years

Text

✬Arranged✬ Draco Malfoy X Reader (Request)

This is a request I received!

"Hello! I would love if you wrote something around reader and draco being forced into an arranged marriage by their parents. They hate each other at first because draco used to bully/insult her in school, they're constantly at each other's thoughts at first but then they begin to not mind each other's company... idk if that makes sense feel free to ask any questions. if you don't mind writing it I would love you see your take on it ❤️ oh and maybe the reader would fit the whole pureblood Slytherin comes from a wealthy family thing too. Something like that..."

I’ve read various imagines with a similar plot, but here’s my take on it! If you’d like a Part 2, let me know! I love this story line

Warning: swearing, slightly mean/bully Draco

Very long like 2k oops

Draco's POV:

I was awoken by the sound of Father walking in to my bedroom. He told me I needed to get up and ready for the day, as the (y/l/n)'s were coming. I ran my fingers through my hair, stressing over the fact I had to see (y/n) again. I couldn't stand being in the same room as her. She made me feel emotions I refused to let out. Although we were arranged to be married, I would never let her in my head. She wasn't getting anywhere near my vulnerability. I looked up at Father as he walked towards my bed, grabbing my chin.

"Son, you know how important this is. She's one of the only good pure bloods your age. Not to mention her great, great grandfather was the founder of Slytherin house. Don't fuck this up, Draco." He spat his last sentence before exiting.

I sighed, getting out of bed. My warm feet adjusted to the cold temperature of the wood floor. I went into my closet and picked out my usual attire: an emerald button up, black slacks and black laced dress shoes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I combed my hair back to a suitable placement. After spritzing some cologne on my neck, I saw a silver town car pull up outside the window.

(y/n)'s POV:

As the car came to a stop, I sighed while slouching in my seat. I could see Draco peering out the window pane. I wasn't looking forward to spending another day at the Malfoy's, yet again. I've been coming to the Manor my whole life. I knew the Malfoy's like the back of my hand, except Draco. He repeatedly threw his aggression towards me. Every time we spoke, one of my flaws came up in conversation. He always pointed out the (y/birthmark) on my (y/body part).

"Out the car now darling, time to see your fiancé."

"Mother please stop calling him that."

"Why? He is your betrothed after all." She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. After all these years, I still can't imagine being married to that foul mouth. I wanted to marry someone I loved, like my parents. But all they cared about was the Malfoy’s and keeping their great image in the wizarding world.

I stepped out of the car and mother shouted at me from the other side. "Go ahead inside love, I'll meet you in there." She had a slight smirk across her lips. I was suspicious, but not enough to ask questions.

I make my way up the grand stairs, Narcissa waited for me in the doorway.

"Hello dear! Delighted to see you again." She gave me a hug and a peck on the head.

"Draco will be down in just a minute- DRACO!" She smiled. I internally groaned.

A figure came walking down the spiral staircase. His hair was placed just right, making his piercing grey eyes stand out. His sleeves were cuffed right above his wrists, the green really accentuated his skin tone. I quickly shook myself out of admiration coma.

"Draco." I said with a straight face.

"(y/n).." he replied.

"Draco, why don't you take her to the gardens while your father gets her trunks?"

"Trunks? What do you mean?"

Narcissa looked confuzzled. "Oh dear, don't know you? You're staying at the manor for a short while."

My eyes went wide, "What?"

"WHAT?!" Draco grasped the railing of the stairs, the veins on his hand popping out as he strained against the wood.

"Draco! Behave yourself," Narcissa gritted through her teeth, she turned to me smiling.

"I don't have any clothes," I stammered, trying to make up excuses to avoid my dreadful stay.

"Yes you do!" Mother said, walking through the door.

I turned to face her with stink eyes, "is there a reason you didn't tell me I had to stay here with this twat?!" I motioned to Draco.

"And you didn't tell me this bloody-" Draco shouted at Narcissa, but she quickly stopped him.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence between the four of us.

"My love, it's time you got a taste of the married life," she grasped my shoulder shaking me subtly. "After all, you are older now and soon enough, you'll officially be husband and wife."

"But mother! I-"

"No buts! Now I really must be going. I have to meet your father at the council meeting, but enjoy yourself! I packed you enough clothes for a few weeks, so you're all set dear." She kissed me on the cheek as I stood there, dumbfounded.

"Goodbye darling!" She shouted as Lucious shut the door behind her, exiting the manor.

I turned around to face the two Malfoys that stood before me. How could she just dump me here? And for weeks? It's bad enough she married me off before I could even breathe. There's no way I would be able to last that long here with Draco. I look at both him and Narcissa, he looked enraged and I couldn't blame him.

"Now take a walk in the gardens, get some fresh air." She stated as a command rather than a question.

We both looked at each other with disgust, but we followed her wishes and headed towards the courtyard. We walked in silence for quite awhile. It was a cumbersome stroll, he wouldn't look me in the eyes or even my direction. I shouldn't be surprised, he was always like this, but something was different. He seemed tense, like he was holding something back. I tried to enjoy myself as if he wasn't there, admiring the lilies and pansies scattered perfectly symmetrical. Unfortunately my eyes kept falling back on him. His tapered slacks rested right above his matte dress shoes. The way his shirt grasped his frame. I felt a chill going down my spine. I adjusted my cardigan, wrapping it tightly around my chest. For some reason this got his attention and he whipped his view towards me.

"Don't tell me you're cold?" He scoffed, scrunching his nose.

"Is there a problem with feeling normal human reactions?" I spat.

He laughed, "just find it rather odd you'd wear such a short skirt on a day like this."

I shook my head in anger. It was typical he pointed out something to do with my attire. "It's summer Malfoy..what, would you rather I wear jeans and sweat like a pig?" Looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at the hem of my skirt.

He ignored my words and continued to walk faster, heading back to the manor. I scoffed and continued at my pace, in no rush to go back inside with that jackoff.

I closed the door to the courtyard and locked it. My eyes traveled around the room, I remembered memories from my childhood, when Draco was actually pleasant towards me and didn't act like a dick. We used to play with fake wands and babble made up spells to each other. I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw Narcissa approaching.

"Why don't you come have some tea? I just brewed a pot." I nodded and followed her to the dining room.

I sat down in one of the many chairs seated at the table. A minute later she came back with a kettle and two dark green teacups with silver snakes on them. Typical Slytherins, but I was one to talk. We chatted a bit about how I've been since we last saw one another, even though it was only a mere three weeks ago. Then we diverted to the subject of Hogwarts. She went on about Dumbledore and how Lucious couldn't stand him. At this point, who didn't know about his vendetta against him.

After a few hours of conversing, she said she was tired and was heading to bed.

"You'll stay in Draco's room this evening."

"Um, are you sure? Can't I stay in the guest room?"

"Oh..the guest room is being..remodeled at the moment. Draco knows of the arrangements. I assure you dear, don't worry about about a thing. Sweet dreams." And with that, she left me standing in the dining room.

I clenched my fist together, wanting nothing more than to obliviate myself and forget everything that was happening, but alas, I couldn't go through with it. Like the kind, forced houseguest I was, I took the teacups and kettle back into the kitchen to be cleaned when I ran into Dobby.

"Hello Dobby how are you?"

"Hello Miss (y/n), you're always so worried about Dobby, it warms my heart. Dobby's keeping his feet on the ground. Dobby keeps hearing things from Mr. Draco about you."

"I'm sorry but I thought I just heard you saying Draco's been talking about me.."

"Oh dear, Dobby has said too much! Bad Dobby." He reached for the teacup but I stopped him before he could.

"Don't hurt yourself, it'll only make me sad, and I know you hate to see me that way." I bat my lashes.

"Sorry Miss (y/n)..since I've already said too much...Mr. Draco talks about you nicely. He likes your (y/h/c) hair and the way your nose scrunches when you're laughing. Dobby hears him talk to Mr. Crabbe and Goyle about these things and much more.." He shyly looks away, looking up the stairs towards Draco's room.

"Hey, hey, I won't tell him. (y/n) keeps secrets Dobby tells her." I smiled at him.

"Thank you Miss, Dobby likes you much more than his masters."

"I like you more than them too." I gave him a peck on the head and went up the staircase.

I trailed down the hall towards his room. The halls were dimly lit by small candles on the walls, as well as moving paintings on the walls of their family tree. I arrived outside his bedroom, scared out of my mind to knock, but I brought myself to do so. Shortly after knocking, he opened the door to his bedroom. I stood there admiring his night clothes; a fitted white v-neck tee shirt and boxer shorts.

"Are you just going to stand there like a git and gawk or come in?" He smirked.

"I- Uh- Coming in." I slipped past him and stood there, unsure of my next move.

"It's getting late," he shut the door behind him. "You should put on some more comfortable clothing to sleep in."

"Right..oh, my trunk is downstairs. I should go get-"

"It's right here," he pointed towards it. "I brought it up a little bit ago. Didn't want to risk you breaking a nail, I'd never hear the end of it."

I scoffed, walking towards my case. I unbuckled the clasps and opened it to find clothing that didn't belong to me, or so I thought."

I've bought you some more appropriate dressings for your stay with Draco. Enjoy them, I know he will too.

-Mother

I was taken aback by her note. It's like she's asking me to fuck him, and we're not even married yet. She's already desperate for grandchildren, I thought to myself. I rummaged through my new wardrobe and ogled in shock. Lingerie, bodycon dresses, even shorter skirts. Are mothers supposed to be like this?

I picked the least revealing item I could find to sleep in. It was a silk green nightgown with lace detailing on the chest, lingering a little too low on the chest for my liking..but it was the only thing that didn't expose my entire body. I grabbed my toiletry bag and my feet brought me to the bathroom. I peeled off my current attire and put on a new set of panties along with my nightgown. I brushed my hair up in a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Gathering my belongings, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with Draco. Now he was the one gawking at me.

"I know I'm always being a dick but..you look dashing (y/n), really." He said shyly, looking down at his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Thanks..." I wasn't sure how to respond.

I put my dirty clothes and bag on top of my trunk. I scratched the side of my arm in nervousness, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements were going to work, although I had an idea. There was nothing else to sleep on besides Draco's bed. He stared at me with anticipation as if he was waiting for me to join him.

I proceeded to the opposite side of the bed. I peeled back the sheets on my side, snaking my legs underneath. Draco still sat in his place, shifting a bit, but stayed in his current position. I laid down, facing his direction, closing my eyes. Maybe if I kept them closed long enough, I'd eventually fall into a deep slumber without any further conversing with Draco.

I felt the sheets ruffle as he too laid down, I couldn't tell if he was facing my direction or not, but I ignored it. I adjusted my pillow to a more comfortable position. We both laid there, within the same vicinity, completely silent. After a few moments, I peaked my eyes open ever so slightly to find a pair of silver eyes looking deep into my soul. I shuttered, unaware of the fact he was staring at me. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?" I asked in confusion.

"Having the pleasure of looking at you," he licked his lips.

"I don't think I understand.."

"My god (y/n)...I never took you for dumb."

I raised an eyebrow, "how am I dumb?"

"Because you can't see it," he paused. "You can't see how madly I'm in love with you...and you can't tell me you don't feel the same." He reached for me chin, grasping it ever so slightly.

I didn't dislike his touch. His hands were ice, melting on my warm skin. His thumb caressed my jaw, heading towards my lips.

"I- I will admit..I do have f-feelings for you, I've been suppressing them..but you make it very convincing that you have a..distaste for me. Ever since we were young.."

"I don't think you understand the common thing about us males...we tease the ones we love," he chuckled.

Not knowing what the hell came over me, I forcibly grabbed his face and slammed my hungry lips onto his.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

A story in three parts

Interlude

First part

I have an easy plan, I said. I have it all figured out, I said. Three parts, dusted and done, no problem at all, I said.

I think not, this story said, and proceeded to throw some unnecessary relationship drama at me.

This chapter is very NieLan heavy. Content warning for in-book level of violence.

Nie Mingjue is humming under his breath as he prepares dinner. It’s Jiang Cheng’s favourite, and while Lan Xichen had sent him a knowing look when he saw what Nie Mingjue was making, Nie Mingjue didn’t pay him any attention.

He is not spoiling Jiang Cheng. At least not since the bruises and cuts on his face have faded.

This is just because Madam Yu summoned Jiang Cheng to Lotus Pier and Nie Mingjue knows that such summons always leave Jiang Cheng unsettled and upset and he wants to do something nice for him.

It has nothing to do with spoiling him, Lan Xichen’s glances be damned.

“Get out of my kitchen if you keep looking at me like that,” Nie Mingjue eventually grumbles under his breath and it makes Lan Xichen laugh before he darts over to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s cheek and then he leaves.

Finally Nie Mingjue can concentrate on making their dinner.

He’s mostly done by the time his phone rings and when he sees that it’s Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue quickly wipes his hands before he accepts the call.

“Di-di,” he warmly says, but he tenses when he isn’t met with an answering “Da-ge”.

Something must be wrong then.

“What is it?” Nie Mingjue asks, using the tone that used to make his people quiver with fear usually, but Nie Huaisang is silent for a moment longer before he finally speaks.

“Lotus Pier is burning,” he then says and Nie Mingjue’s entire body goes cold even as his mind struggles to understand the words.

“No, it’s fine, Wanyin went there today,” he tries, but his voice is already trembling, his body clearly understanding what Nie Huaisang’s words mean even if his mind is still struggling with it.

“Da-ge, it’s burning. No one came out, there are said to be no survivors.”

“Who?” Nie Mingjue demands to know, because this is easier to think about than the fact that there are no survivors. He doesn’t pay attention to the sick feeling in his stomach. “Who did this?” he asks, even though he damn well knows who did this.

“The Wens,” Nie Huaisang predictably says and Nie Mingjue has to grab for the counter so he doesn’t collapse right then and there.

The Wens took his father and now they took his heart.

“He could have made it out,” Nie Mingjue says, his voice shaking but Nie Huaisang is relentless.

“They would have captured him if he did, and they would be bragging about it, heir or not. They say no one survived. And they were all there. They—” Nie Huaisang winces on the other end, but Nie Mingjue snaps at him to speak.

He needs to hear this.

“They strung up Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu,” Nie Huaisang eventually whispers and Nie Mingjue closes his eyes at that.

He never respected them as parents, but they were formidable fighters and leaders and to hear that they are being treated like this is wrong.

“If they had Wanyin they would do the same to him,” Nie Mingjue tries.

“If he survived the initial attack he would be trying to get them down,” Nie Huaisang shoots back and Nie Mingjue knows he’s right.

Jiang Cheng never liked his parents much, but they are his parents. He wouldn’t allow this.

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue whispers, desperate beyond anything he knows, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t have any comforting words for him.

There is no comfort if his heart is gone.

“I have people here, keeping an eye on things. If he somehow made it out, or if he will make it out later, they will know and they will get him, but--it’s not looking good,” Nie Huaisang whispers and it’s incomprehensible to Nie Mingjue what just happened.

The entire Jiang Clan, including Wei Wuxian, wiped out just like that, in one fell swoop.

“He survived,” Nie Mingjue says, because he cannot believe anything else, because his heart cannot simply be taken from him as easy as that.

It’s not right.

“I’m sorry, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang gives back and the fact that he’s not even arguing with Nie Mingjue, that he’s so damn sure that everyone is dead, tells Nie Mingjue just how serious this is. “You should go to the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Huaisang suddenly says. “I have our side handled and the Jins are unlikely to be attacked but the Cloud Recesses—” he trails off there, but Nie Mingjue knows what he wants to say.

The Lans are not weak and Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji are doing a great job at leading their Clan, but ever since Lan Xichen put down his sword they have changed. They are not quite as ruthless anymore, not as dangerous and everyone knows it.

If the Wens want to go against another Clan as well, the Lans are the obvious choice. And the Wens are the most powerhungry Clan Nie Mingjue knows.

“Understood,” Nie Mingjue forces out and then he hangs up on Nie Huaisang.

This he can do. Protecting the Cloud Recesses means being in action and that is something Nie Mingjue knows how to do. There will be time to think about the rest later.

“What’s wrong?” Lan Xichen suddenly asks, having made his way back to the kitchen, clearly alerted by Nie Mingjue’s tone. “You sounded upset.”

Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to say it; if he says it, it might be real after all, but he has to. No matter what it will do to Lan Xichen. He deserves to know.

“That was Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue starts with.

“Is he alright?” Lan Xichen asks immediately and Nie Mingjue nods at that.

“It’s Wanyin,” he whispers and watches as Lan Xichen’s face goes pale. “Lotus Pier is burning. The Wens attacked it. Huaisang says there are no survivors.”

Nie Mingjue would love to add that Huaisang is probably wrong, that he must have missed something, but Nie Mingjue didn’t transfer the role of leader over to Nie Huaisang because he misses things.

If he says there are no survivors then there are none. Nie Huaisang’s intel is always impeccable even if Nie Mingjue does not want to believe it. And by the gods, does he not want to.

“No,” Lan Xichen whispers and when he staggers Nie Mingjue rushes forward to pull him into his arms.

He isn’t sure who of them is shaking—or if maybe they both are—but they are definitely both clinging to the other.

“Our heart is not dead,” Lan Xichen mutters eventually and Nie Mingjue longs to agree with him but he’s not sure he can.

He made it a point a long time ago to never lie to Lan Xichen and he can’t force the words that would soothe him past his lips.

The silence weighs heavy on them but eventually Lan Xichen pushes Nie Mingjue away.

“Mingjue, our heart is not dead,” he says, with more vehemence, but Nie Mingjue presses his lips together.

“Tell me that he is not,” Lan Xichen begs him, fisting his hands in Nie Mingjue’s shirt and Nie Mingjue covers them, but he can’t find his words.

Wen Ruohan killed his father who was a much more accomplished fighter than Jiang Cheng was and there is no way Jiang Cheng could have survived if Wen Ruohan or even Wen Xu went to Lotus Pier. There might be a chance that he managed to outwit Wen Chao, but if it was him who went to burn it down, then Wen Zhuliu was surely by his side and he is just as dangerous as Wen Ruohan and not just because of his special ability.

Nie Mingjue fought him once, just once, and he can still feel his bones rattling from his hits, even though Wen Zhuliu never managed to touch him long enough to burn his core.

“Huaisang says the Cloud Recesses are next,” Nie Mingjue says eventually, not answering Lan Xichen and going by the hard glare in his eyes he noticed.

“How can you be this unaffected if our heart—if he’s—” Lan Xichen tries to say, but he can’t even bring the words past his lips.

Nie Mingjue wants to yell at him that he’s far from unaffected, that he couldn’t ever be anything but completely and entirely devastated just thinking about Jiang Cheng being dead, but then Lan Xichen cradles his face in his hands and when he brushes his thumbs over Nie Mingjue’s cheeks, he realizes that he’s crying.

“My soul,” Lan Xichen brokenly whispers and when his face crumbles Nie Mingjue’s heart shatters right with it.

He can’t be dead. Jiang Cheng cannot be dead. He promised to not leave them alone, to stay away from his family and the business, to be safe and happy with them, and he promised it.

He cannot be dead. It’s not possible. Nie Mingjue wouldn’t know what to do if he is.

“The Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue eventually croaks out, because he can’t think about this.

If he thinks about it, he’ll break and then he will be useless. And there is still something to do.

“Okay,” Lan Xichen agrees, clearly only humoring Nie Mingjue, but he’s thankful for it anyway.

Lan Xichen steps away from Nie Mingjue—something he can barely stomach, because if he steps away Nie Mingjue can no longer touch him, can no longer keep him close to protect him—but then he stops.

“It wasn’t a simultaneous attack,” Lan Xichen slowly says, a frown on his face. “They went to Lotus Pier first and then they’ll move to the Cloud Recesses,” he muses and then his face goes hard. “They will be there.”

Before Nie Mingjue can say anything to him, Lan Xichen leaves the kitchen, probably to retrieve Shuoyue, but when he comes back, Nie Mingjue freezes. Lan Xichen has Shuoyue at his side, but he holds Liebing in his hands.

“My light,” Nie Mingjue croaks, because Lan Xichen promised him to never use Liebing again.

Lan Xichen is deadly with Shuoyue; he’s downright catastrophically destructive with Liebing.

“They went to Lotus Pier first,” Lan Xichen says again and his voice is cold and detached.

Nie Mingjue hoped to never have to hear him sound like that again.

“The same people who—who did that are going to the Cloud Recesses. I will not—they have to die,” Lan Xichen tells him and Nie Mingjue agrees, of course he does, no one who dared to lay a hand on Jiang Cheng is allowed to continue living, but he never wanted this.

It was a struggle to get Lan Xichen away from the brink the first time and Nie Mingjue holds no illusions that he only managed it because of Jiang Cheng and if their heart is really gone, Nie Mingjue is going to lose Lan Xichen as well.

“They have to die, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen repeats, clearly daring Nie Mingjue to disagree, to start a fight over this, but Nie Mingjue can’t.

He wants them dead as well and his heart is bleeding. There’s nothing he can argue about.

“I’ll get Baxia,” he only says, leaving Lan Xichen in the kitchen as he retrieves his own weapon.

Baxia is singing in his hands, clearly excited to be used again after being discarded for so long, and Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath as he promises her blood.

“Let’s go,” he says to Lan Xichen when he comes back, but Lan Xichen is already impatiently waiting for him.

“I wrote Wangji, they should be ready,” he informs him and Nie Mingjue nods, even though he’s reasonably sure that Nie Huaisang informed them already.

Their trip to the Cloud Recesses is quiet; neither of them feel like talking, both stewing in their own thoughts. Not a word passes between them when they get to the first buildings of the Cloud Recesses and see them ablaze in flames, but whenever they spot a Wen, they move flawlessly together, and Shuoyue and Baxia sing as they are drenched in blood.

It doesn’t take them long to fight their way through to where they suspect Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji to be and they are proven right when they walk in on an intense stare down between Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji, Wen Xu, Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao.

Nie Mingjue is kind of glad that they are not fighting already, because he itches to kill them himself.

“I see you are so weak that you need help from retired fighters?” Wen Chao snarls and Nie Mingjue tightens his grip on Baxia.

Lan Xichen appears to be completely calm at his side, his stance open and relaxed, Shuoyue resting easily in his hand, already sheathed again, while Liebing is tucked into his belt and Nie Mingjue worries.

He can tell that Lan Xichen is on the brink of losing it, of giving in to the bloodlust completely, and he takes a step closer to Lan Xichen.

“Aren’t you missing someone?” Wen Chao says as he narrows his eyes at them, a deranged smile passing over his face. “I seem to remember you running around with a third useless person,” he says and then pretends that he has to think for a moment.

“Oh, right, I forgot. It was the Jiang boy, right? Ups,” Wen Chao laughs and slaps his thigh, clearly thinking himself to be hilarious. “He will no longer be around,” he tells them once he calmed down and Nie Mingjue clenches his teeth.

“Shut up,” Wen Xu says with an eyeroll, but he seems pleased too and Nie Mingjue is going to kill them, no questions asked.

“If it makes you feel better, he was stubbornly defiant, right until the end,” Wen Chao conversationally says. “At least until I brought the whip out. Couldn’t stay all stoic then.”

Lan Xichen has turned to complete stone at Nie Mingjue’s side, while Nie Mingjue is boiling with rage.

“Shut up,” he snaps, unable to help himself, but of course that only spurs Wen Chao on.

“He did well for the first hit, but when I was done, he was barely able to scream anymore, could only whisper to beg me to spare his life. I’d say you should give him a proper burial, but with how he looked, I’d advise for a closed casket.”

Wen Chao leans forward, clearly not realizing that he’s this close to being painfully murdered himself and he whispers “And that was before Wen Zhuliu got his hands on him.”

Nie Mingjue makes a pained noise at that, because he has seen Wen Zhuliu in action, has seen what his special power does to the people, and Nie Mingjue is going to lose his mind just thinking about the fact that Jiang Cheng might had to live through that.

“Oh yeah, that was fun,” Wen Xu agrees and Nie Mingjue turns his eyes on him before he looks at Wen Zhuliu, who seems as stoic as ever.

“You’re dead,” Lan Xichen says, his voice ice-cold, and before Nie Mingjue can blink Lan Xichen moves.

He’s just a blur for a moment, at least right until there’s a sickening crunch as a breath is punched out of Wen Chao. Lan Xichen rammed his sword into his chest, not even bothering to unsheathe it; he just plunged Shuoyue in there, relying on pure, blunt force to make his way right through Wen Chao’s ribs.

It’s not a painless death, that’s for sure.

Wen Xu and Wen Zhuliu are still trying to understand what is happening by the time Nie Mingjue moves and before they can even move a muscle, Baxia swings in a wide arc, followed by two heads.

Their bodies make a satisfying sound as they drop to the ground and Lan Xichen kicks Wen Chao in the stomach to get his corpse off his sword.

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says from behind them, but Lan Xichen only has eyes for the dead man before him.

“My light,” Nie Mingjue tries and steps closer to Lan Xichen, Baxia still dripping blood to the ground, just like Shuoyue.

“He’s not dead,” Lan Xichen finally says, not taking his eyes off Wen Chao, and Nie Mingjue takes in a shuddering breath.

If even half of what Wen Chao said is true, it would be a kindness if Jiang Cheng were dead and Nie Mingjue hates himself a little bit for even thinking that, but some nights he still has nightmares about the blood curdling screams of his father’s men who had the misfortune to get too close to Wen Zhuliu.

He does not want Jiang Cheng to experience that kind of pain.

“I trust you can handle the rest here?” Lan Xichen demands to know suddenly, slightly turning towards his family and when Lan Qiren nods with a sad look on his face, Lan Xichen walks away, Shuoyue dripping a bloody trail behind him.

Lan Qiren waits until Lan Xichen is out of earshot before he turns to Nie Mingjue.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he formally says, but Nie Mingjue can see the grief in his eyes.

Lan Qiren always did like Jiang Cheng.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue presses out and then bows slightly to Lan Qiren. “I’ll do my best to bring him back,” he promises him, aware that he already failed by losing Lan Xichen to the bloodlust yet again, but Lan Qiren only reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“He will return for you,” Lan Qiren says as if there couldn’t be a moment of doubt about that and Nie Mingjue does not have the heart to tell him differently.

Nie Mingjue will not be enough; they only got Lan Xichen back last time because of Jiang Cheng and if he’s dead then Nie Mingjue doubts that there is anyone else out there that will manage the impossible like Jiang Cheng did.

Still, Nie Mingjue nods jerkily and then walks away, trusting Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren to have the affairs of the Cloud Recesses handled, now that the Wen brothers and their faithful dog are dead.

He doesn’t have to be a genius to know where Lan Xichen has gone to and so Nie Mingjue makes his way to Lotus Pier.

Or rather what’s left of it.

Nie Huaisang did a great job of cleaning up after Wen Chao and Wen Xu—dead Wens almost as numerous on the ground as the Jiangs—but of course there was nothing he could do to save the place.

Lotus Pier is just a smouldering ruin at this point and Nie Mingjue’s heart bleeds when he sees it.

Lan Xichen is standing at the entrance of Lotus Pier, simply staring inside and Nie Mingjue steps up next to him.

“There’s no body,” Lan Xichen says. “Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian have been found, but there is no sign of Jiang Cheng or his siblings,” Lan Xichen says and Nie Mingjue closes his eyes at that.

It’s a relief—of course it is, because it means there’s still hope—but it’s also a curse, because Lan Xichen will not let this go if there’s no body to be found.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue tries, but he falls silent when Lan Xichen whirls around to him.

“No,” he hisses. “There is no body, that means he’s not dead. It’s as simple as that.”

Nie Mingjue clenches his teeth, because the throb of hope in his chest is dangerous, but he nods anyway.

“Okay,” he whispers and prays to all the gods he knows and doesn’t believe in that Lan Xichen doesn’t break when they do find a body.

That he doesn’t break, either.

~*~*~

Life without their heart is different and much more difficult than it has any right to be.

It almost feels like Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are out of tune, like they no longer know how to be just the two of them with the knowledge that Jiang Cheng will not come home to them after work.

Nie Huaisang keeps them updated about Lotus Pier, and he of course has people out looking for the Jiang siblings, but every time he reports back to them it’s with the same news.

They didn’t find a hair of the three.

Lan Xichen always only just nods at that, because it still means there’s no body; it still means there is hope but Nie Mingjue is steadily losing that hope.

The longer Jiang Cheng stays missing the worse his prospect looks. The only ray of hope is that it doesn’t seem like Wen Ruohan got his hands on Jiang Cheng, because he’d be sure to boast about catching him.

Lan Xichen goes out almost every night now; Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to ask how he manages to appear fresh and rested at work, because he fears he won’t like the answer. Especially since he himself is very much not fresh and rested at work, seeing as he accompanies Lan Xichen on his trips, mostly to keep an eye on him.

He doesn’t use Baxia more than he has to, but it’s still too much for his liking, especially since he left this life behind. But Lan Xichen is adamant on going out, adamant that he has to find Jiang Cheng and kill every Wen that crosses his path and Nie Mingjue doesn’t have the heart to tell him not to.

He understands the urge to go out and fight against those that took their heart away from them, even as he tries to keep it in check as best as he can.

It’s enough if one of them loses themselves to the bloodlust again.

But what’s surprisingly more difficult than watching Lan Xichen succumb to the bloodlust again is living without Jiang Cheng there with them.

It’s the small things that trip Nie Mingjue up; the fact that no one will be coming home at five, like clockwork, or that there is no humming from the bathroom.

Nie Mingjue can’t even think about making the food he wanted to make for Jiang Cheng on that fateful day, and just the thought makes his stomach turn.

The one time Lan Xichen suggested Jiang Cheng’s favourite as their dinner, Nie Mingjue screamed for a whole five minutes at Lan Xichen before he walked out on him.

They didn’t sleep in the same bed that night.

And that’s something else that Nie Mingjue finds increasingly difficult: sleeping in the same bed.

Not because he doesn’t love Lan Xichen anymore, but because there is a huge gap between them now, a gap where Jiang Cheng used to be.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue no longer know how to fit together, it seems, because Jiang Cheng was always in the middle, and they both cuddled up to him. On the rare nights that they do have time to cuddle now, Nie Mingjue finds himself thinking that Lan Xichen doesn’t fit into his arms like Jiang Cheng used to, that he’s too tall, too muscular, too tense, to ever give the impression that it could be Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue doesn’t know what to do with that.

Some nights it’s easier to simply not cuddle at all. At least like that Nie Mingjue’s heart doesn’t continuously break.

~*~*~

Months pass like that, with little to no change, and Nie Mingjue feels exhausted down to his bones. Lan Xichen still insists on going out most nights, and as soon as they step out of their apartment he becomes Zewu-Jun.

Nie Mingjue thinks he can count himself lucky that Lan Xichen is able to shed that part of himself at the door, because at home he is still Lan Xichen, though a few of his more cruel streaks find their way into their everyday life as well.

Nie Mingjue prays to all the gods he knows that Lan Xichen at least remembers to keep up appearances at work, though he’s not sure how well Lan Xichen manages that because he gets increasingly short-tempered and snappish.

There are no news of Jiang Cheng or his siblings, and Nie Mingjue knows the odds of ever seeing him alive and well again, especially in their line of work and after this much time.

Nie Huaisang still keeps an eye out, more as a favour to Lan Xichen than out of any real hope and with every new update that tells them no news at all, Nie Mingjue grows more resigned.

They still keep Jiang Cheng’s things as if he would come in through the door any moment now, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t know if it’s hurting them more than it helps, but he can’t bring himself to pack all of Jiang Cheng’s things up.

Not even to mention that Lan Xichen would never forgive him if he should do it, and so Nie Mingjue endures every stab of pain he gets when he looks at Jiang Cheng’s things. His favourite hoodie thrown over the couch as if Jiang Cheng will come back to pick it up and slide it over his head every moment, no matter that it has long ago stopped smelling like Jiang Cheng.

His toiletries are still in the bathroom, as if he will ever have need for a tooth-brush and shampoo again. Jiang Cheng’s pyjama are still in the middle of the bed, as if he could materialize into them at any moment and be sandwiched in the middle, like he should be.

Nie Mingjue feels like crying every time he notices one of these small things, but he also can’t bring himself to throw any of them out.

They are all he and Lan Xichen have left of Jiang Cheng after all. Some days Nie Mingjue thinks that these things are also the only thing that keep Lan Xichen at his side.

But the weeks drag on like this and with every passing day it feels like Nie Mingjue is losing more and more of Lan Xichen, as if not even the ghost of Jiang Cheng is enough to keep the bloodlust at bay.

It feels like it did before they found Jiang Cheng; there’s more and more of the cruel Zewu-Jun and less and less of Lan Xichen to be found and Nie Mingjue doesn’t know if he can do this again.

If he can survive losing Lan Xichen so shortly after Jiang Cheng.

Nie Mingjue has to admit that the answer is a very resounding no, when the days drag on and he loses a little bit more of Lan Xichen every time they go out, until it feels like there’s nothing left for Nie Mingjue to lose anymore.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to face that particular fight but everyone has their breaking point, after all and Nie Mingjue’s comes with a broken mug.

He doesn’t mean to—of course he doesn’t mean to—but when he puts the dishes away, he takes Jiang Cheng’s favourite mug out, so that it doesn’t get buried behind dozens of others.

Seeing the mug brings Nie Mingjue a fair amount of pain, but not seeing it might even be worse, so he intends to put it at the very front of the row, like he always does. It used to stand there when Jiang Cheng was still around because he was using it daily, and Nie Mingjue is not about to change that.

Everything is going well, like it should be, until Nie Mingjue reaches out for the mug to put it back as well. He doesn’t even know how it happens; he hasn’t dropped anything in ages, but one moment the mug is standing innocently on the counter and the next it’s falling.

Nie Mingjue has good reflexes—he proves that time and time again when he goes out with Lan Xichen and protects his back—but he can do nothing but stare as the mug falls.

He jerks when it hits the ground, instantly shattering into way too many pieces and Nie Mingjue can’t tear his eyes away from it.

He’s only barely aware that Lan Xichen comes into the kitchen, no doubt alerted by the noise but Nie Mingjue definitely notices when Lan Xichen freezes.

“What did you do?” Lan Xichen hisses, his eyes just as glued to the broken mug as Nie Mingjue’s, and it’s only his hostile voice that makes Nie Mingjue look away from it.

“It was an accident,” he whispers, fighting back the tears that are stinging at his eyes.

It was a puppy shaped mug and Jiang Cheng liked to look at it more than he actually liked drinking out of it. He had a habit of filling it up with coffee or tea and then simply forgetting it, more content to have the mug be around than anything else and Nie Mingjue cannot believe that he broke it.

“What is he going to do when he comes back?” Lan Xichen demands to know and Nie Mingjue feels weary down to his bones.

“He’s not coming back,” Nie Mingjue whispers, because it’s been almost a year now and there is not even a single clue about Jiang Cheng’s whereabouts.

“He is not dead,” Lan Xichen says, for what feels like the millionth time and Nie Mingjue isn’t strong enough to have this conversation again.

So he simply turns around and walks away from Lan Xichen, who seems unwilling to just let him leave.

“Do you even care about him? Or did you only love him for what he did for us?” Lan Xichen wants to know, his voice bordering on cruel and Nie Mingjue stops dead in his tracks.

It feels like Lan Xichen slapped him and Nie Mingjue feels cold all over. Nie Mingjue owes Jiang Cheng a life-dept for what he did for them—for what he did for Lan Xichen—but he loves him for a million different reasons.

And Lan Xichen should know that.

“Do you care about me?” Nie Mingjue gives the question back, but he can’t quite bring himself to turn around and look at Lan Xichen.

Nie Mingjue thinks he knows what the answer to that question is, and he’s not ready to see it on Lan Xichen’s face.

“Or did he replace me so thoroughly in your heart that I no longer matter to you?”

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen whispers and Nie Mingjue is honestly surprised to hear the pain in Lan Xichen’s voice.

It gives him hope, for a short moment, but then Lan Xichen falls silent again and Nie Mingjue’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

“I see,” he presses out, and then continues to walk away from Lan Xichen.

He doesn’t call him back and Nie Mingjue is not about to give him any more chances, at least not today, and so Nie Mingjue finds himself on the street in mere minutes.

He didn’t take Baxia—barely remembered to put on shoes at all—and without the usual goal of finding and killing some Wens, there’s only one real place Nie Mingjue can go to.

Nie Huaisang does not seem surprised to see him at all, but his eyes do widen when he takes in Nie Mingjue’s appearance.

“What happened?” Nie Huaisang snaps, clearly already going into crisis mode, and Nie Mingjue wishes this was something Nie Huaisang could do for him, that there was something to fight, but there’s not.

“I’m not sure if Xichen still loves me,” is what Nie Mingjue says to Nie Huaisang and then he can’t speak anymore, because his tears and sobs are choking him.

He already lost Jiang Cheng and didn’t get to grieve for him because Lan Xichen is so adamant in his belief that he is still alive, but now it seems like Lan Xichen is also slipping through his fingers and it’s just too much. All of his grief and pain come to the forefront now and they completely overwhelm Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue is not too sure how they end up on the couch with Nie Huaisang petting his head, but Nie Mingjue feels raw and hurt and he’s not inclined to leave just yet or move ever again. At least here, nothing can hurt him.

“He loves you,” Nie Huaisang says long after Nie Mingjue’s last tear fell and Nie Mingjue immediately tenses.

“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen him lately,” Nie Mingjue whispers, his voice cracking when he remembers the cold look in Lan Xichen’s eyes and how the only time he seems to be filled with any feeling at all—even if it is murderous rage—is when they talk about Jiang Cheng or go after Wens.

“I do, because he’s here,” Nie Huaisang lowly gives back, not ceasing his calming motion of carding his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair. “He called me around half an hour ago.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue whispers, because he didn’t even notice that.

“I told him to wait in another room, because I wanted to check with you first, but he seemed frantic. He said you left after a fight.”

“A fight,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, because that could barely be classified as a fight. “I don’t think he cares enough to actually fight with me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and Nie Huaisang makes a thoughtful noise.

“Well, he seems to care enough about you to fight with me,” he finally gives back and Nie Mingjue looks questioningly at him.

“What do you mean?” he asks when Nie Huaisang doesn’t seem inclined to answer and Nie Huaisang gives him a small smile.

“You were still in the middle of your breakdown when he called me,” he easily says, “and I wasn’t inclined to let him meet you when he is the cause for this, so I told him to get fucked,” Nie Huaisang says with a shrug. “He didn’t take that well and yelled at me for about five minutes before he argued me half to death as to why he has to see you. Jiang Cheng’s name only fell once, I counted,” Nie Huaisang reassures Nie Mingjue, who finally sits up.

“What do you think?” Nie Mingjue asks his brother, because he does usually have a better insight into people’s minds than Nie Mingjue does.

“I think he loves you. I think it’s easier for him to only concentrate on the Wens because it gives him something to do and a front to hide behind. I think he’s afraid he’s going to lose you, too, and that maybe that non-fight you were having was the push he needed.”

“You think I should forgive him.”

“I think you should talk to him and see what he has to say. Maybe even make him work for it,” Nie Huaisang corrects him. “I don’t want you two to break up, because I saw what losing Jiang Cheng already did to you, but if he doesn’t remember how to love you, then I will kill him myself,” Nie Huaisang then says, and Nie Mingjue has to smile at that, because that’s much more like his brother.

“Fine, I’ll see him,” Nie Mingjue eventually says with a smile and Nie Huaisang gives him a thumbs up.

Nie Mingjue has to admit that even the fact that Lan Xichen came for him and didn’t just wait it out does wonders to reassure him and set his fears that maybe Lan Xichen doesn’t care for anyone else but Jiang Cheng at rest, but he has to hear him say it as well.

And Lan Xichen clearly has to hear that this whole thing hasn’t been easy on Nie Mingjue either, if his callous words are anything to go by.

Nie Huaisang leaves and a few moments later Lan Xichen steps into the room. Nie Mingjue doesn’t bother to stand up, or try to look even a little bit more presentable, and going by how wide Lan Xichen’s eyes get, he makes quite the miserable sight, though it only lasts a second before Lan Xichen puts a mask over his face.

Nie Mingjue forgot long ago that Lan Xichen used to be an expert in shielding his emotions, and he doesn’t like being reminded of this at all. He thought they were long past this.

“Are you coming back?” is the first thing Lan Xichen asks him and Nie Mingjue wonders if what Nie Huaisang said is even true.

Lan Xichen doesn’t seem ready to fight for Nie Mingjue, but instead he seems ready to go out and kill some Wens again. He doesn��t even seem to want to talk. Lan Xichen has Shuoyue in his hand and death in his eyes, but Nie Mingjue can’t do this, not anymore.

Nie Mingjue is tired.

“I’m not,” he says, from his position on the couch, and he can’t even bring himself to look at Lan Xichen, can’t stomach to see the cold, detached look on his face, can’t stomach to see that Lan Xichen is so very clearly done with them.

But even if Lan Xichen is about to shatter Nie Mingjue’s heart into thousand pieces, he’s not supposed to be this. His light is supposed to laugh and be happy.

“So you truly don’t care,” Lan Xichen harshly says and at that Nie Mingjue’s head snaps up to him.

“I care so goddamn much that it feels like it’s tearing me apart,” he hisses at Lan Xichen. “But I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough to lose you so shortly after Jiang Cheng and I certainly can’t watch it happening.”

“You’re not losing me,” Lan Xichen says with a frown and Nie Mingjue can’t help the bitter laugh he lets out at that.

He is definitely losing Lan Xichen if he can’t even tell Nie Mingjue that he still cares about him, there’s no way around that.

“Xichen, look at you. There’s nothing left of you, it’s all Zewu-Jun. And I’m not strong enough to bring you back. I haven’t been the first time and I wouldn’t even know where to start this time, with how you don’t even seem to care about me anymore. What good am I to you if I can’t even do that?”

“What?” Lan Xichen asks and Nie Mingjue puts his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how to get you back without him, I no longer know how to make you care about me, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive losing both of you,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he startles when Lan Xichen sits down next to him and pulls him into a hug.

Nie Mingjue freezes because this amount of contact hasn’t happened in weeks and he doesn’t want to spook Lan Xichen into pulling away.

“I came back for you,” Lan Xichen whispers and he sounds choked up. “That first time, I came back for you, and I can do it again,” he promises him, but Nie Mingjue knows better than to believe empty promises.

“Don’t lie to me, Xichen, that only makes it worse,” he bitterly says, but Lan Xichen is relentless.

“It was you, it was all you. I came back for you, our heart had little to do with that,” he promises Nie Mingjue, but it’s hard to believe, especially when Lan Xichen doesn’t seem to care about him at all anymore.

Nie Mingjue still remembers the first evening they met Jiang Cheng, remembers how Lan Xichen’s eyes were glued to him the whole evening, and it was immediately afterwards that Lan Xichen began to soften again.

Jiang Cheng had managed to do in one evening what Nie Mingjue had failed to do for months and what he’s failing to do now.

“I thought you wanted them dead, too. I thought you wanted justice for Wanyin and the Jiangs as well,” Lan Xichen says, without letting go of Nie Mingjue.

“I do,” Nie Mingjue immediately says, because he does want to see every last Wen dead. Not if it has to be a trade, though. “But I want to keep you more. I want you to love me again” he finishes and Lan Xichen sighs.

“I have always loved you,” he whispers and Nie Mingjue wants to believe him so badly, but he doesn’t know if he can. “Why didn’t you say about the other things, though, my soul?” he softly asks and Nie Mingjue immediately feels like crying because Lan Xichen hasn’t sounded like this in a long time.

“I’m not enough for you,” Nie Mingjue whispers, because that is something he had been forced to accept with every inch Lan Xichen slid closer to being Zewu-Jun.

“You’re my everything, my soul!” Lan Xichen insistently tells him. “What use is there for light in the eyes and a beating heart if there is no soul to make it worth it?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Nie Mingjue wants to believe it—he does—but the way only Jiang Cheng kept Lan Xichen tethered to his sanity speaks volumes to him.

“Just come back to me,” Nie Mingjue says, clutching at Lan Xichen’s arm, because he can’t say anything to what Lan Xichen tries to make him believe.

“I’m here,” Lan Xichen promises him and presses a kiss to his temple. “And I won’t leave you again, I’m sorry, my soul,” he goes on and Nie Mingjue hopes that he can believe him, at least this time.

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#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingxicheng #mafia au #angst #hurt no comfort #yet #violence #murder #missing person #grieving #please remember that this is not tagged as mcd #and it's still mingxicheng #even though this is mostly #nielan

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