#sorry this is not scanned or edited the sun had SET by the time i finished this so i couldn't take a proper photo like i normally do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowynn · 2 years

Text

| in love and lore | six |

pairing: ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: violence, death, yandere behavior, prejudice against mc. (things are a bit darker towards the end of this chapter)

summary: the daemon king and his seven black generals. names and faces of these eight had changed over the years as each new king was crowned, but their reputation as the most powerful daemons always remained the same. upon hearing the rumors one of the seven led the charge of the nearby battle, you should have stayed close to the encampment. you should have never wandered out on your own. but you did, and your life would never be the same again. good or bad, you would just have to wait to find out.

“There’s no need to be afraid, angel.” His words were a breath against the side of your neck. “You’ve done so much for us, let your king now return the favor.”

wordcount: 14.6k

| five | six | seven |

a/n: so, I knew this chapter was going to be long when i first wrote it, but it still ended up much longer than anticipated. oops. but this really is one of my favorites so far (though i have come to learn editing long chapters can be a pain) and hope you all enjoy this too! as always, all feedback is appreciated and loved. even if i don't reply, i read each and every comment and they always make me smile. :) the support for the series so far has been so sweet and i appreciate you all so, so much.

You had expected someone to wake you up the following morning, but found it was nearly midday when you rolled out of bed. The sun had long since reached its peak in the sky when you stepped outside, stretching out the kinks in your muscles. Just like Mingi had said, another Black General sat at the table near the entrance. He was scanning over a stack of papers, taking notes every so often in the margins, but looked up when he heard the tent rustling upon your exit.

You shuffled under his gaze, hovering near the entrance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

“Don’t worry about.” He waved your concern away, offering a smile in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “You’ve had a rough past few days and I’m sure the extra sleep was needed. If we had need of you, we would have woken you earlier.” Not only was he as attractive like the ones before, with streaks of red in his hair, but he was tall too. His figure towered over yours when he stood up to pull out the chair next to him and motioned for you to come over when he noticed you holding back. “But, please, come eat. We can head over to the infirmary when you’re ready.”

You were hesitant to take the seat, finding the act of someone pulling your seat out for you strange and foreign. Sure, Hyunwoo had done it for you a time or two, but only on special occasions such as your birthday, and even then it had been done in a half-teasing manner. But there was no hint of mockery in his stance, and he simply smiled at you once more.

He was gentle as you took the seat, pushing you forward and moving the full plate of food left on the table in front of you before returning to his seat. “I’m Yunho, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, angel.”

He stayed with you for the next few hours, leading you throughout the grounds just as Mingi had done the day before. He was less talkative than Mingi had been, and even more so whenever you tried to press him for answers, giving the same stupid excuses as all the others. You would just have to wait until you met with Hongjoong. When this meeting would actually take place, however, no one would say for sure. The only answer they gave was soon. You just had to be patient.

When the sun began to set, Yunho guided you back to the tent to eat and retire for the night, but it wasn’t just food that awaited you upon your return. Several daemons hung around the table when you approached behind Yunho, and you were quick to notice the black horns on each of them. Wooyoung and Seonghwa had made a return, as well as two others you had yet to meet, but were quickly introduced as San and Jongho.

Their presence was overwhelming. The aura of just one of them was intimidating as it was; the raw power each them held was nothing like anyone you had met before, and it all combined was nearly suffocating. But as oppressive as it felt, there was an inkling of contentment hidden beneath. The hollowness that had plagued you since Seonghwa had placed the mark on you had almost been filled, as though the part of you that had burned away had come back. For the first time in a while, you almost felt whole.

You grew accustomed to them quicker than you liked, no longer quite so tense every second you were forced to spend with them. You didn’t like them, and you hardly trusted them, but the nerves that had plagued you in the beginning began to dissipate with each day. You didn’t know what was to become of you, but the kindness they treated you with and the warmth that bloomed in your chest each time you saw one of them made you all the more confused and gave you all the more reason to keep your guard up.

Your time with them was vastly different than back in the city. You were under constant supervision by at least one of the Seven at all times, but they were much more lax with your work. No one ever woke you in the morning, allowing you to sleep as late as you wish and start work on your own time. And when you did work, no one dared to raise their voice or insult you. Your identity of being the Black Angel had become well known, and though discovering you were a half-daemon was a shock to them, it didn’t bother them as much as you had expected. Whether this was because they were actually grateful for what you had done, your constant guard, or both, it was hard to tell.

Hongjoong was oddly missing during the time you spent with them. While his generals were always more than happy to accompany you anywhere and everywhere - as long as it was inside their camp, that is - you had yet to even sneak a peek at their golden king. Despite the orders he gave towards you through them, he had remained out of sight for the time being. And though a part of you was itching to ask them when you would finally get to meet him and get the answers you desperately wanted, it was a different matter altogether to actually ask. Not when you weren’t even certain that he even was their king.

Yeosang was also gone more often than not, spending the majority of the time with Hongjoong in the city while you were left at camp. You had seen him once or twice, and the sight of his gleaming black horns had made your stomach twist. A painful reminder of the lies he had told you and the act he had committed in your name. He approached you once on your second morning, but was quick to pick up on your frustration in his attempt to strike up a conversation and kept his distance after that. The look he had given you as he went, so similar to that as a wounded puppy, had made your stomach twist once more. As though the fact he had hurt you had wounded him just as badly.

They had claimed you would stay with them until they had no further use of you. You had assumed this usefulness was in your healing abilities, but Mingi’s statements upon your arrival the first day had worried you. Leaving you with the fear your use to them was more than your ability, a thought that clung closer to you each day you remained here. Despite having attended to the remainder of their soldiers in the evening of your third day there, there was no inclination of sending you back from from Yunho when you arose the following morning.

And with no work at the moment, you were left with little else to do besides amuse yourself with your current guard. You had just finished lunch and was doodling on the back of one of the papers Yunho had been reading over when you had asked him for one. Though the two of you had settled into a relatively comfortable silence, you saw the way his eyes darted in your direction every so often to look at the random sketches you had done, especially the rough sketch you had done of him from your boredom in the top corner.

Your eyes glanced up when you felt the presence of another general, but it was the person who was with him that caught your eyes and had your breath hitching.

The pencil dropped from your hands and before Yunho could ask what was wrong, you were up from your seat and sprinting in their direction.

“Hyunwoo!” You called out your brother’s name and his head was quick to turn in your direction with just enough time to recognize you before you barreled straight into him. He caught you easily, arms wrapping around your body with the same force you had captured him with. “I was so worried about you. They said you were okay, but I still couldn’t help but wonder, you know? They didn’t lie, right? You’re not hurt?” The words came out in a single breath, rushing to voice the worry you had felt towards his and Soomin’s wellbeing in your absence. “And what about Minnie? Is she safe too?”

“We’re fine.” He pushed back the hands that had been running across his figure to check for wounds, brining your eyes back up to his face when you were satisfied he spoke the truth. “But what about you? Are you okay? Soomin and I were so worried when Suho informed us you had been taken.”

“I’m fine. I’ve just been sent here to heal their wounded for them.” You waved back his concern, knowing it was well placed with where you had been the past few days, but more worried about what had happened to him and your sister since you had last seen them. “What about you two? What happened to you?”

“We were ordered back to the house after the ceasefire was called. We’ve been there ever since, though I was called out for a task in the forge this morning before being brought here.”

His eyes flickered to Jongho, who you had yet to process was standing there next to you until that moment, his expression unreadable as he observed the exchange between the two of you.

You didn’t know how you felt about Jongho. While you had waved away Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s teasing comments about him the first night, you had quickly realized there had been some truth in them. He was quieter than the others. Almost bashful when it came to you, but a welcome relief to the way some of the others acted. You knew it very well could have just been an act to get you to drop your guard even more than you already had, but you still preferred his company more than the others, appreciating the silence that surrounded the two of you when you were alone.

“But you are okay, right, y/n? They haven’t done anything to you, have they?”

You shook your head, suddenly self-conscious under Jongho’s inquisitive gaze, wondering what thoughts might have been running through his mind at the moment. “No, I’ve been treated quite kindly since my arrival.”

“Don’t worry, your sister is safe here with us.” Jongho broke the silence, a hint of a smile breaking through as he added to your words.

“Woo, this is Jongho.” You pulled away from your brother, conscious of the way his and Jongho’s eyes kept glancing between each other. “Jongho, this is my brother Hyunwoo.” You knew there was a good chance the two had already become acquainted, but you felt the need to break the silence that had settled between you and it was the first thing you could come up with. “Is there a reason he’s here?”

Now that you were over your excitement of seeing your brother, the anxiety of what he was doing here began to settle inside you and whether or not you were the cause behind it. Jongho had been your guard the day before and had been curious about the dagger you had been using in the infirmary. He had asked to see it that night at dinner, testing out the design for himself. He had praised the workmanship of it, asking if it had also been your brother who had designed the arrowhead that had wounded Seonghwa when you had explained your brother had created it. You had been hesitant to answer his question, but you hadn’t sensed any hostility in his tone. Now, you wondered if you had made a mistake in telling him the truth and that your foolishness had gotten your brother in trouble.

“Hongjoong sent for him. He had a task for your brother earlier this morning and though you might enjoy having your brother accompany you back to your house to get ready for the ball this-“

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted. Any relief you might have felt towards knowing Hyunwoo was was safe for the time being and you would finally get to go home immediately masked by the statement he had made towards your attendance of the masquerade. “I’m attending?”

You had first heard about the event at dinner when you had returned with Yunho that second night with them. It had been San who had first mentioned it, having given up his seat at the table for you to sit, and the first to inform Yunho of what he had missed in the peace talks that day. He had explained it was an event meant to try and lessen the tension built up from the war, but the knowing looks he had exchanged with the others, and the smirk Wooyoung had been unable to hide, had you doubting their words.

The only other mentions of it had been in passing; one general asking another if the proper preparations had been completed or not. While you held some curiosity towards the event, you never bothered questioning them on it. Your attendance was something you never considered, so you never had a reason to question them. The guest list had been reserved to a higher class, much higher than your own, and even if it hadn’t been, no one had extended an invitation your way. And you hadn’t cared. You had absolutely no desire to spend an entire evening surrounded by a crowd of people who would just serve to make your life as miserable as possible.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Yunho must have not trusted you when you had run off without a word and followed you over, his sudden response to your question making you jump. You hadn’t heard him approach. “It wouldn’t be a party without you, angel.”

“Oh, well, um, thank you for the offer, but I don’t really think me going is a good idea.”

Your head tilted, shuffling as a new form of panic bloomed inside you. They expected you to attend? It wasn’t because you hated social events, but rather just events filled with people who hated you. The thought of it sounded more like hell than a party in your mind, and you could only imagine what sort of hell would actually be raised when the humans realized you were there. Did they not realize that you would get kicked out faster than you could explain you had actually been invited. And that was only if you actually got in.

“Ah, but you see-“ Yunho’s reply was cut off short, and while you had found it strange the first few times it had happened to him and the others, you had quickly come to realize it was Hongjoong who was doing it. Apparently you weren’t the only one who he had taken control of before and was now acutely aware he was observing the scene between the four of you and Yunho had been about to say something he wasn’t supposed to. “We’re aware of how some humans might respond to your presence, but you don’t have to worry about them. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you while you’re there. You’re safe with us, remember?”

You just barely caught the tail end of his eyes fading back to black as you turned your head, another sign you had quickly come to discover meant it wasn't actually Yunho who you had just been speaking to. And like always, you had a hard time fighting the urge to glare up at him, hoping Hongjoong would see your frustration. He was more than perfectly content communicating with you through the others, but remained steadfast in staying away from you at the moment. If it wasn't for the fact he was the only one allowed to give you answers, you wouldn't have cared. And though meeting with him still terrified you, you were antsy for that time to come. The unsurety of you fate was starting to drive you crazy.

"Yes, you've all stated that several times now." Your arms crossed, unable to hide the frustration that came with the phrase they had been repeating over and over again the past few days. "But I still don't think it's a good idea. And even if it was, It's not like I have anything to wear." You really couldn't have cared less about what you did wear, but knew the few items in your wardrobe would pale in comparison to anything else the other attendees would be wearing, causing you to stick out even more than your normal presence would have already.

"Don't worry. We've already thought of that and you'll find clothes for you and your siblings were delivered to your house this morning."

"Why?" Once again the question that had plagued your life the past few weeks popped out, more than thoroughly confused as to why your attendance seemed so important to them.

"To thank you for everything you've done, angel."

"And we've been over this a million times. I didn't save Seonghwa and the others because I wanted some sort of payment. I didn't ask for you to repay me. I don't need you to repay me."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair at the lies they continued to tell you. After all, if they truly wanted to thank you for what you had done, they would let you sit this one out. But they weren't. And if Yunho's earlier statement hadn't been proof enough for there being some hidden agenda - what had he been going to say? - then their insistence of you attending was. What that agenda might have been, you hadn't a clue, but there had to be one. This wasn't them showing you gratitude for saving Seonghwa's life, you knew that, but until Hongjoong decided he would talk with you, you had no choice but to play their game. Your very life might depend on it.

"And I'm not saying this because I'm not thankful for what you've done for me. I am, truly. But you've already thanked me enough. You don't have to keep doing this. You've done more than enough to return the favor and then some. Just let it go, let me go, and we can all move along with out lives."

"I know this has all been confusing for you, y/n, but will you let us do this one last thing?" Yunho's gaze had softened, unfazed by your ranting as he raised a hand to the side of your face. "I promise things will start to make a lot more sense after tonight. Just hold on for us a bit longer, will you, angel?"

You wanted to disagree, but one look was all it took for you to know nothing you did or said would change either his or Jongho's mind on the matter. You could try all you wanted in convincing them to let you be, but nothing you said or did would change the end result. It would just be wasted time and breath.

"Sure, whatever." It's not like I have a choice.

You had to bite your tongue to keep the last statement from coming out. While you had some leniency when it came to them - you sure as hell didn't see anyone else talk to them in the same manner you just had - you didn't want to take the chance at possibly putting yourself in a worse position than you already were because you couldn't hold your tongue.

"What the hell is going on, n/n?" Hyunwoo asked when the two generals finally let you leave with your brother. "Angel? Really?"

"Welcome to my life for the past few weeks," you grumbled, arms crossing as you did your best to hide the blush his callout of one of the nicknames they had all given you had created. You hadn't put too much thought into it though. It was nothing more than a playful reference they made to your previous hidden identity. "I keep trying to figure out what's going on and what they're planning to do with me, but they won't answer any of my damn questions. It's all just 'Hongjoong will explain everything to you later,' but Hongjoong seems to have a keep interest in avoiding me at the moment."

You briefly wondered if you should be more careful with what you said about him, just in case he was still spying on you, but you brushed the concern off as soon as it came. Perhaps if you made him angry enough, he would finally come talk to you.

"He has no problem spying on me and telling the others, 'Oh, y/n is exhausted so let her sleep,' or 'y/n's not supposed to hear that yet, so talk about something else.' It's all been Hongjoong this and Hongjoong that, but oh, no. You just need to have some patience. He doesn't want to talk to you right now. And why's that, huh? Because it would be a crime for the daemon king to be seen with a fucking mutt?"

"Are you sure you should be talking about him in that manner?" Hyunwoo's voice had lowered, eyes sweeping the general area to check and see if you had been overheard.

"Oh, trust me. He would have heard me if he wanted to. Did I forget to mention that he's in my fucking head?" You groaned, half regretting what you had just said, but also half hoping he had actually heard it. All of it. "They won't go into any specifics with it, but I'm pretty sure he already knows exactly how frustrated I am with all of this. He has access to my brain whenever he wants, after all."

"He can read your thoughts?"

"According to them, it's a little more complicated than that, but who's to say they're just not telling me the truth to keep me from freaking out more than I am already." You shrugged, letting out another exhausted sigh. It felt nice to finally be able to get your emotions out. To finally release all your frustrations after keeping them in for so long. "To be honest, I'm starting to think this is just some sort of game they're playing. That this nice exterior they've shown me is just a front for something more sinister. Now that they've gotten use of my ability, they'll embarrass me in front of everyone tonight for being stupid enough to believe someone like me could actually be something more in life. Why else would they be doing all of this?"

"I don't know." Hyunwoo's words were still soft as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, doing his best to calm you down for the time being. "As crazy as it seems, I don't think their motive is anything sinister. I spent quite a bit of time with Jongho this morning, and I didn't get any ulterior motives from him. He just seemed genuinely curious about how my ability worked and even asked if he could see some of my previous work. And when he mentioned you, there was genuine warmth there. If you ask me, I think they really are grateful for what you've done for them, they just have a bad way of showing it."

"Maybe, but does it even matter?" You weren't sure how Hyunwoo's words made you feel. Unsure if them actually being grateful for you like they said was a better outcome than your own demise. "I don't know what they plan on doing with me, but the only good outcome that can come out of this is them finally letting me go. And based on what I've heard, I have a hard time believing that will happen." You sighed once more, wishing you had listened to your sister all those years ago and put your own wellbeing before people you didn't even know. "And now I've got you and Soomin wrapped into this as well. Minnie told me countless times to be careful and of how dangerous it was for me to be going out, but I just always thought the worst thing that would happen would be me dying. I never imagined something like this would happen. I just wanted to help people, but I only ended up managing to hurt the people I care about instead."

"It'll be okay, n/n. We'll get through this together." Hyunwoo's grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. "They offered you answers tonight, right? So we just have to make it through this silly party and then maybe you'll finally figure out what they plan on doing with you."

"I swear, Woo, if we somehow all make it out of this one alive, the next time you or Soomin warn me against doing something incredibly stupid, I'll listen. No ifs or buts."

Despite the situation, Hyunwoo laughed, the sound of it slowly easing the tension and fear that had been eating you up the past few days. "Well, if that's the case, you'll have to tell her that yourself. I'm sure Minnie would love to hear it."

"So she can hold it against me forever? Yeah, no thanks." You couldn't stop the giggle that came at his reply, playfully shoving him to the side, a sense of normalcy settling on you once more. For just a short moment, you were able to forget about the war and the daemons. For just a minute you could fool yourself into thinking it had all been one long dream.

But it all came crashing back down the moment you saw the dress the daemons had given you for the night's event.

If you didn’t think you were going to die beforehand, you sure as hell did now. Whether it would be at the hands of the humans, the daemons, or simply sheer embarrassment, you didn’t know. But you did know you wouldn’t be making it through the night unscathed. That was a given.

When Yunho had mentioned the clothes they had gotten you and your siblings for the ball that night, you had expected something similar to the dress presented to your sister. Something of high quality and beautiful, but simple enough to fit in with the rest of the crowd and not drive any unwarranted attention your way. You hadn’t expected something that would cause you to stand out more than if you had just been forced to wear one of the few dresses in your closet.

While Soomin’s was a deep maroon, yours was a bright, dazzling gold. The top was fitted, with a high neckline that crossed just below your collarbone in the front and let a small second of skin between your breasts bare alongside the entirety of your back. The skirt billowed out beneath your waist, and though loose and light with a slit that reached your upper thigh, still gave you enough cause for concern on what to do if you needed to run.

If the attention the style and color of the dress would bring didn’t make you uncomfortable already, the slit at your chest did. It wasn’t just because it showed more skin than you were used to showing - hell, you hardly even wore dresses, let alone something form fitting - but that it left the top half of the king’s sigil on your chest bared and exposed for anyone to see.

Soomin had attempted to alleviate some of your discomfort by reminding you it was a masquerade, but any relief the mask might have brought left as quickly as it came when you unwrapped the mask that had come with the dress. It was pure gold, melded and worked into an intricate design though extremely beautiful, did little to hide any of your discerning features. When Hyunwoo stopped behind you, you were quick to realize this was the task he had been requested for earlier that morning. You could see your brother’s gentle touch in the shape, and realized now why Jongho had been so curious about his ability.

But as beautiful as the piece was and as proud as it made you that even the daemons saw and appreciated your brother’s skill, you still regretted having to wear a mask that did nothing to hide your identity. If you weren’t certain of the daemon’s hidden agenda before, you were now. With a dress that screamed for attention all on its own and a mask that did little to hide your identity, they had to have something planned for you tonight. They wouldn’t have just dressed you up in something like this to simply thank you.

If it wasn’t for the fact Soomin and Hyunwoo would be at your side, you didn’t think you would have the courage to go. You had already tried to talk them out of making you go, begging for them to excuse your absence with being sick - the nerves bundled in your stomach definitely made you feel sick. But you knew it was pointless. Even if you did convince everyone to stay home, you knew it would be next to impossible. If they didn’t simply send someone to fetch you, Hongjoong could force you there on his own. And if it came to that, you weren’t sure how they might retaliate, afraid you would only risk your own life as well as your siblings.

Soomin did your hair, pulling and twisting it in a way that left the majority up and out of your face while leaving enough down to cover the tips of your ears. While this might have been enough for her to appear human in public, your luck of inheriting your father’s daemon eyes prevented you from easily blending in the way she could. And though she commented how pretty you looked, you couldn’t wish more than ever your eyes would suddenly appear human when she handed you the mirror. It didn’t matter how pretty you might have looked, all anyone had ever seen, or would ever see, were your slit pupils.

The trouble began before you even got inside the palace. Your cloak, once again mended and whole thanks to Soomin, was wrapped tightly against your body. Partially to keep out the brisk, autumn air and partially to keep the dress and mark hidden from view as long as possible. It did nothing to hide your identity, as an invitation with your names had come alongside the clothes given to you. The moment you walked up to the entrance and handed over the card, the guard eyed each of you with disdain.

It didn’t matter that he knew you were the people listed on the card and the guest list in his hands, the fact you were half-daemons had him convinced you were attempting to sneak inside and cause mayhem. For why would the council or the daemon king ever see fit to invite a bunch of mutts to an event that was meant to reign peace between them.

Though his actions struck a nerve with you, you were relieved all the same, hoping the commotion would be enough to send you all back to your house and avoid any further incidents. But just as you opened your mouth to convince the others to drop it and return home, a daemon guard approached your small group.

The human’s face blanched as the guard addressed you and your siblings in a cordial manner before quickly reprimanding him for offending the king’s personal guests. You didn’t know what part of the interaction made your stomach knot tighter. What might happen to the guard due to his mistake or the way the daemon spoke to you as he motioned you inside. The casualness of how he mentioned the king and his generals ‘eagerly awaited your appearance inside’ had you clutching the cloak all the more tightly around your body.

Unfortunately, you only had the safety of your cloak for a few moments longer. The moment you made it inside, a servant was asking to take it for you. And if you weren’t so terrified of revealing what laid beneath, you might have taken the time to note how strange it was to be treated like someone of a higher class for once in your life. You attempted to keep the cloak, shying away from their hands. The thought of taking it off and revealing the dress underneath made you terribly self-conscious, but when Soomin pointed out it might only attract more trouble, you hesitantly shrugged it off, shivering as the breeze from outside hit your skin.

You could already feel the eyes of the surrounding servants and guests milling around the antechamber as the golden dress was exposed. Your arms immediately wrapped around your chest and you hovered behind Hyunwoo is in shadow as the doors to the main hall were opened and you were ushered all the way inside.

You had been inside the castle of Maehwa before, often being asked to make personal calls to attend to any aches and pains of the council members and their families, but you were still left in awe at the scene before you. They had held balls and parties numerous times in the main hall of the castle, but they had never been anything but a fantasy for someone like you. Never before had you dared to so much as peek into one of these events, let alone actually be invited to one. And despite the events that had led up to this occasion, you couldn’t help but let a small smile sneak it’s way out as you took in the scene before you.

The main chandelier had been kept unlit, leaving the ones along the side as the only source of light besides the lanterns scattered amongst the room. It gave the scene a slightly eerie appearance from the way the shadows of the attendees danced along the way, but held a sense of enchantment all the same. Music filled the air from a small orchestra playing in a corner of the lower floor, while tables for food and drinks had been set up on the opposite end. And though the center of the main floor had been cleared for dancing, not many people occupied the space.

You strayed at the top of the staircase next to your siblings, taking in the sight of something that felt right out of a fantasy for you. And yet, here you were, dressed for the occasion in an outfit that was worth more than your own life. The gold glittered in the firelight, sending scattered beads of light dancing across the floors and walls it reflected off of. You might have been able to blend in well enough if you had been dressed in something more conservative. But the dramatic cut of the dress stuck out just as much as the color, influenced by the daemon’s style of clothing. There was no hiding in it, and already you could feel the gaze of the crowd around you, certain they were talking about you in hushed whispers amongst themselves.

You did your best to ignore them, fingers grasping for Hyunwoo’s forearm as you peeled past his shoulder to the scene below. A group was gathered at the base of the opposite staircase, set apart from the rest of the crowd that killed around. It didn’t take long to realize this was where the daemons had set up, recognizing the faces of the Seven behind their black masks. While you had always seen them handsome in their own way - something you would have never admitted out loud - it was even more evident tonight in the way they had cleaned up. Loose fitting shirts and leathers had been replaced with black formal attire, and the hair you always fought the urge to straighten out was slick and combed back.

An odd weight settled inside your chest as you observed them from across the room, tugging at you to go and free them. While the emptiness you had felt since the mark had been placed had nearly disappeared in your time with them the past few days, it had come back worse than ever when you had left with Hyunwoo. You had taken the tightness as nerves for the night’s events, but if that was the case, it should have worsened upon finally seeing them, not filled you with a bubbling sense of warmth and relief.

Whatever you thought of it though, disappeared when you took notice of the new face amongst the group. Even if it wasn’t for the way the lights glittered off the golden horns and crown that adorned his hair, you would have known who he was. Despite never seeing him before, you knew without a doubt this was Hongjoong. This was the daemon king.

He was breathtaking. Not that you had imagined him to be anything else. Not with the way each of his generals looked, but the sight of him still made your heart skip alongside a sharp intake of breath. Even with the distance and the golden mask - it’s twisted, metal shape that oddly seemed to mimic your own making you distinctly aware that this had been the other mask Hyunwoo had created - that hid his face, you knew he was just as attractive as the others. The way he was laughing at something Seonghwa had whispered to him making your stomach flip. Whether this was in awe, fear, or a mixture of both, you weren’t sure.

As though he knew you were looking at him - which very well could have been the case for all you knew - his head tilted up to the top of the staircase where you stood, eyes immediately locking onto your figure hiding behind your brother.

Hello, angel.

There was a hint of playfulness in his tone and you swore you could see a smirk cross his lips as the words echoed inside your head. If it weren’t for the fact he was actually there across the room, you might have felt some frustration over the fact this was the moment he finally decided to break his silence with you. Instead, it merely made your nerves spike and your heart skip another beat, each causing you to swiftly hide your face behind Hyunwoo’s back as a wave of heat flooded your body.

“I think I might go out to the balcony and get some air.”

Your words came out breathless, face hot and chest heavy as the situation you were in came rushing back. The awe of the scene that had killed you began to fade as those golden eyes seemed to pierce into your very being in that split second you had caught onto them. The words which had followed only confirmed it had been you he had looked at.

Now that you were finally seeing him, you wondered why you had ever dared to utter your frustrations towards him earlier. You might have wanted to meet him over the past few days, eager for just a hint of what was truly going on, but one look was all it took to make you weak. One look and you were ready to turn and run. The thought of having to get any closer than you already were nearly shook you to your core.

“But, y/n, you’ll freeze out there,” Hyunwoo replied, both he and Soomin oblivious to what had just happened. “Why don’t I just fetch us some drinks and we can find some dark corner to hide in for the rest of the night.”

“That sounds great, Woo. We’ll be over there,” Soomin voiced her agreement before you could voice any complaint you might have had, and dragged you over to an empty spot against the railing obscured by shadows.

“I don’t think I can do this, Min.” You leaned against the nearby pillar, trying your best to calm your anxiety as you purposefully positioned yourself so you weren’t facing him or the others anymore. “Everyone’s looking and I just know they’re talking. I can feel their judgement on the back of my neck.

“I know, but it’s just a few hours.” Soomin’s hand grabbed yours, squeezing it softly. “They did promise you answers if you came tonight, didn’t they?”

“That’s what Yunho said, but how do I know he wasn’t just lying to get me here tonight? What if it’s all just some scheme to pull me in and slit my throat?”

You gulped, unable to stop every worst case scenario from flooding your mind. Now that you were here, none of the options for how you saw this night going seemed very favorable. And even if you did succeed in getting the answers you yearned for, who’s to say they would even be anything you wanted to hear? And then, you would have to get close to Hongjoong to get them, a feat you didn’t know was possible or not.

“Did you see him, Min? He was so…” you paused, struggling to find the right word to describe how exactly he felt, “intense.”

“He’s something, that’s for sure.” Soomin nodded, observing him from across the room. “I can feel all of their auras from across the room. It’s…” she shivered, turning her gaze away, “uncomfortable.”

“Like you’re caught in a trap with no way out.” You struggled to suppress your own shiver, fully aware of what she was talking about. You may have grown used to their presence after the past few days, but the intensity had grown with the king in attendance.

Soomin nodded. “Though, it seems to do little to suppress Hayoon and the twins from fawning over him and the others.” Her lip twitched as she propped her elbows against the railing, a hint of a smile appearing as she watched them. “I wonder if they’re doing it on their own accord or if their parents put them up to it.”

Her statement caught you off guard and you turned back around to peek past the pillar to look for yourself. Sure enough, Hayoon and the twins, Sunhee and Yunhee, had crept as close to the daemons as possible. None of them so much as trying to hide their intentions as they did their best to catch the attention of one of the daemons beside them and wriggle their way inside.

You had very few interactions with the three girls over the years, but the few you had, had never been pleasant, making the scene with the woman at the infirmary a week ago nearly pale in comparison. The fact each girl had seemed to have suddenly put aside their dislike towards anything daemon because of a few pretty faces had you more frustrated than you had been when Wooyoung had first mentioned their attempt.

“I heard the council is trying to convince the daemons into a marriage union,” you replied, fighting the frustration that rose back up at the scene. “Funny how they don’t seem to mind daemon’s so much when they’re not the ones with the power. Do you think they realize what sort of children they’ll bear or do they magically think they’ll come out human?”

“And what are we talking about over here?” Hyunwoo had returned with the drinks, handing a glass to the both of you as his eyes attempted to follow your line of sight.

“Hayoon and the twins,” Soomin replied, pointing over towards them. “Apparently the humans are trying to secure a marriage alliance with the daemons, so there they are. Making an utter fool of themselves. I only wish I could hear what they’re actually saying.”

“Probably something about how hard it is to be the daughter of someone so high and respectable,” you huff, lips tilting upwards a smidge at the thought. They could try all they wanted to get the daemons’ attention, but you had heard enough over the past few days to know the marriage alliance was never happening.

“Or how difficult it is to find a respectable man in these times and day. All these men only seem to want to marry them for their money and stays. No one truly cares about who they are or how they feel. I mean, really? Who would ever do such a thing?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that popped out as Soomin followed your lead, quickly masking it with a hand to your mouth. The fact each girl was failing miserably at catching their attention only added to your amusement. And while the past few days had been strange and unnerving, you couldn’t help but wonder what sort of reaction you could pull out of them if they had known you had spent the past four days accompanied by them and each of them knew you by name.

“Oh, did they finally get a catch?” Hyunwoo asked, leaning over the railing to get a better look as one of the Seven, who you thought might have been San, whispered something into the king’s ear before breaking free from their group.

This immediately caught the attention of the three girls nearby, but any joy they might have felt fell when he passed them by without so much as a glance in their direction. You had little time to relish the disappointment that crossed their faces as San climbed the stairs behind them and began making his way in what appeared to be your direction.

You had no time to hide other than to attempt to obscure yourself in Hyunwoo’s shadows once more, turning your back towards him and hoping he would simply pass you by as he had done with them. Your attempts were in vain, however, as mere seconds later he drew close to your group and called you out by that ridiculous nickname they had given you.

You couldn’t stop the curse that slipped out from under your breath, nearly spitting out the sip of wine you had just taken and doing your best to compose yourself before he got too close.

“What are you doing up here hiding in a corner, pretty?” He peered around Hyunwoo’s shoulder, his smile playful as he caught your eyes. They didn’t stay long, straying for only a second or two before trailing downwards to fully take in your figure.

“Exactly what it looks like. I’m trying to stay inconspicuous.” You fidgeted under his gaze, arms crossing against your chest as you noticed the sets of eyes that had followed San’s movements to this point. Even Hayoon and the others had given up their antics for the time being to see what he was up to and who he might have been conversing with. “Which you’re not helping with by the way.”

“These must be your siblings.” San ignored your attempt at sending him away, turning to your siblings standing beside you. “Soomin and Hyunwoo, was it? It’s lovely to meet you both.”

“Likewise,” Soomin murmured, eyes glancing towards you as he smiled at her.

“Do you need something?” Your words pulled his attention back towards you, nearly shivering at the way his gaze shifted. You didn’t like that he was here meeting them. It felt strange, as though two different sides of your life was converging. As though he was wriggling his way into your private life.

“I happen to love dancing, angel, and am in search of the perfect partner.”

The inflection in his tone made you nervous and you swiftly shook your head, eyes widening. “No.”

“C’mon, pretty. You can’t just hide up here the whole time. Who will dance with me if you do?” He pouted, but his eyes were still teasing. “Please?”

“San, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You do realize that us just being here is akin to a taboo, don’t you? I can’t imagine what sort of hell you’ll raise if someone like you dances with me.” Your words were hushed, trying not to draw any more attention your way than there already was. The only reason you had yet to have anyone approach you was most likely due to the fact you had yet to be properly identified. Because the last person anyone would expect to be the girl dressed in gold was you. “If you want to make friends with the humans, you have to leave me alone. Go dance with Hayoon. I’m sure she would be dying to based on the way she’s been flaunting herself over there.”

“But I don’t want to dance with her, I want to dance with you.” He pouted, tilting his head, but his eyes were still playful. “And if that’s the best excuse you have, then, well, I’d say this place could use a little hell.” He grabbed the drink from your hand and took a sip of his own before placing it on a nearby table and grabbing hold of your wrist. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be borrowing your lovely sister here for a few moments.” He bowed his head in their direction and dragged you away before either of them could object.

“San!” you whined, trying to pull him back as the panic began to build inside the pit of your stomach once more. “I don’t even know how to dance. I’ll only embarrass you.”

“Don’t worry, angel, I’m a great teacher.” He looked back, a smug smile set on his face and completely unfazed by your second attempt to get him to stop. “Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine. I promise.”

You were left with no choice but to follow after him, bunching up your skirt in your free hand as he led you down the stairs towards the dance floor. If you didn’t have the entire room’s attention on you beforehand, you sure as hell did now. Everyone was bound to be wondering just who had drawn one of the Seven out onto the dance floor.

But as much as the humans’ curiosity unnerved you, it was nothing compared to the gaze of the other daemons. You made the mistake of glancing in their direction just once as San guided you to the center of the floor and immediately regretted it. Now that you were closer to them than before, you were acutely aware of the way their eyes had latched onto your figure next to San. Another wave of heat ran through your body as your eyes ran past each of them and you wondered just how exactly you were going to get out of this night alive, let alone in one piece.

“San, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Your hands were shaking as he guided the left onto his shoulder. It was bad enough this was your first time dancing, let alone with someone else, but the eyes that watched you made it all the worse. You didn’t care what San had said, this was only going to lead to embarrassment on your part.

“Nonsense, just relax, will you, sweetheart?” His other hand wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t suppress the gasp he elicited from you when he used his grip on you to pull you in close. “I’ll be doing all the hard work here. Just take a deep breath, relax, and let me lead you, angel.”

That was much easier said than done, but his grip on you was secure. Though you stumbled a few times in the beginning, he always pulled you into the next movement without skipping a beat. And while the ease of his movements did lessen your panic, the attention the action pulled was enough to keep you on edge. You didn’t know where to look. San’s face was completely out of the question with the smug smirk that was plastered there, but the onlookers, especially the daemons, weren’t any better. Eventually, you settled on his jawline, trying hard to not accidentally step on his toes, a feat you had somehow managed to avoid for the time being.

“See, it’s not so bad is it?” His voice was a breath against your ear.

“Everyone’s staring,” you mumbled back, risking a glance behind him and regretting it immediately. If you weren’t so terrified of San or the reaction it would pull from him, you would have just biting your head into the crook of his neck to avoid seeing all of them.

“That’s because of you, angel. Everyone’s wondering just who the pretty girl in the golden dress is.” He chuckled at the way his statement made your cheeks tint, but he didn’t stop there, continuing before you had the chance to rebuke him. “Which you look absolutely ravishing in, by the way. I knew you would when I saw the dress, but damn.” He sighed, fingers tightening against your waist and pulling you flush against him.

If it wasn’t for the music filling the hall, you were afraid he would have heard how fast your heart was now beating. And given the position you were in, you did bury your face into his neck this time, not wanting him to see the effect his words had on you. At the chuckle that reverberated through his chest, however, you knew your actions had hidden absolutely nothing.

“You’re doing great, angel. I think it’s time for you to try a spin.”

“No.” You pulled your head back out, shaking it quickly as a new wave of desperation filled you. You were barely hanging on as it was. Complicating things more than they already were was only a guarantee you would mess up. “Don’t do it, San, I swear-“ But your words were cut off when he ignored your pleas once more and did it anyways.

His grip on your hand was secure, keeping you from stumbling as he spun you around, the motion of your movement causing the fabric of your skirt to swirl around you, casting the nearby area in a sparkle of lights.

“Please, don’t do that again.” You tightened your hold on him when he pulled you back in, breathless by the act. It wasn’t quite as terrifying as you had expected, especially because you had managed it successfully, but you felt much more secure with both of his hands on you.

He laughed, pulling you back into him, a move you could only hope meant he would oblige to your request this time around.

It felt like an eternity, but the song eventually fell to a close and San seemed content with one dance for the time being. You were quick to excuse yourself before he could think to take you over to the others, claiming you needed the bathroom when in actuality you headed outside to one of the upper balconies in front a desperate need for some air.

Grabbing another glass of wine on the way, you were relieved to find an empty spot near the opposite end of the room overlooking the courtyard down below. With winter fast approaching, the majority of the attendees remained inside, but the cool air felt refreshing against the heat the dance had built up inside you, and you leaned against the nearby ledge with a sigh.

What were you doing here? You didn’t belong here.

You had been promised answers tonight, but the dance with San had only served to create even more, unsure of what insanity had driven him to do it. He had said the party could use a little hell tonight, but what had that meant? Was it because their intentions were true, and they truly didn’t care if your were a half-daemon like Wooyoung had insisted upon that first night, or were they simply using you as a pawn? Did they simply want to thank you with a night you had only ever dreamed of before, or was their invitation merely a way to rile up the humans?

And then there was the way San had complimented you. It was different than before. The others, including Hongjoong, had all complimented you before, but those were nothing more than teasing nicknames and playful remarks. Angel was only a reference to your time as the Black Angel, and pretty, was well… just something they said to amuse themselves with the reaction it could pull from you. Tonight, however, San’s words had been different. It had been in the shift of his tone. And in the way his fingers had tightened their grip, as though he was afraid you would slip right through.

You shook the thoughts away, fighting the blush that crept back on your face as your mind ran through the scene once more, hating how easily you had melted at the words. He wasn’t being serious. He couldn’t have been serious. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he had said it, clouded by the image before him to remember exactly who you were. To remember exactly what you were.

The answers to everything were back in the ballroom, but how were you going to get them? We’re you just supposed to wait until one of them approached you or were you expected to come to them, yourself? Without knowing exactly where you stood with any of them, it was impossible to tell. They had seemed lenient enough with you back in the camp, but it was a different world here. A world where you were reminded just who they were and not the man who stood guard over you. They were the eight most important daemons and you were, well, you. Would they simply react the way they always did if you were to approach or would they punish you for daring to approach without permission?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard rustling behind you. Turning around, you expected to find one or both of your siblings, or perhaps even San when he realized you had lied to him. What you hadn’t expected to see was Hayoon and the twins in tow.

“You’re fucking kidding me. It was you?” Hayoon’s eyes hardened as she recognized you, lips puckering as she took in your appearance with a newfound disgust. “He picked the fucking mutt over me? What the hell are you even doing here?”

“I-”

“So that’s what she’s been doing since she got sent over to them,” one of the twins - you had never took the time to get to know them well enough to tell them apart - was quick to add as they approached you. “Fucking them in order to get some kind of favor, huh? Tell me, which one did you do it with to get this dress?”

“I can’t believe this. What the hell got in your head to think it would be okay for you to show up tonight, let alone in that thing.” Hayoon’s eyes raked over the dress, jealousy evident in her gaze. “My father said marriage was in the talks and that I should be sure to get his attention to secure it, but I can’t get him, let alone any of his stupid generals to even look in my direction thanks to you.”

“Well, well, well, would you look at this.” The other twin broke Hayoon’s ranting, finger pointing towards the golden mark gleaming in the moonlight. “She was the traitor after all. She was the one who killed that lady. She had to be. Daddy said they requested her by name, after all, so she must have been in league with them for some time now.”

“What did you even hope to gain from it, you stupid whore?” Her sister asked, head cocking. “I mean, you do know what they do to mutts like you, right?” She tan a nail against her neck, mimicking the act of them slitting it. “Did you think helping them would get you into their good graces? Did you think fucking them would keep them from killing you?”

“You do realize you’re nothing more than a pawn to them?” Hayoon was close enough for you to smell the alcohol on her breath, but her eyes were sharp. “That the only reason they’ve been entertaining you this whole time is to you use you against us? My father said marriage was in the works, but I’m not an idiot. I know the daemons would never dare to mix their blood with the likes of us. They’re too prideful for that. They’re just using you as a toy to mock us. Dangling you in front of us as a way to degrade us.” Her finger trailed against the fabric wrapped around your upper arm. “So, just what are we to do with this pretty, little plaything of theirs, girls?”

She grabbed hold of the fabric, tugging hard. The sound of it ripping left you gasping, making you wonder what was going to happen to you when they realized the dress had been ruined. You didn’t have the means or money to fix it.

“Hayoon, are you sure we should be doing this?” The twin on the left asked, more hesitant now that Hayoon seemed willing to act on her frustrations. Her eyes glanced back at the entrance to the balcony, as though worried of getting caught.

“Relax, Sunnie, they’re going to kill her once they’re done with her. We’ll just be doing them a favor when we beat them to it. After all, she is a traitor, so we’re only doing the right thing by turning her in once we have our fun with her.” She took the wine glass from your hand and tilted the rest of the contents onto the front of it, staining it beyond repair. “Oops, my hand slipped.”

You knew you should do something to defend yourself, either by words or actions, but you found yourself shutting down at the haughty expression Hayoon wore. After all, what if she was right? What if this really was nothing but a game for the daemons? And you were just a pawn to get back at the humans? That they would kill you once they were done with you.

Was this why they had brought you here tonight despite your insistence it was a bad idea? Did they dress you up and pull you out into the dance floor to attract trouble your way? To ensure something like this would happen to you? To ensure the humans would punish you, so they could use your death as an excuse to exterminate them all? And that they had only marked you as a means to see the war through to the end?

“What’s going on here, angel?”

Between the voice that spoke directly in your left ear to the arm that was suddenly snaking it’s way across your waist, you couldn’t keep from jumping. You weren’t they only one surprised by their sudden presence, and Hayoon stumbled backwards, eyes wide and blinking as she took in the figure who had just materialized behind you.

You didn’t have to look behind you to know who it was. Even if you hadn’t recognized the voice, you knew it was Seonghwa. While you had been confused by how quickly he had moved the night you had saved him, you had since come to learn his daemon ability had something to do with teleportation.

“Are they bothering you, pretty?”

You had a hard time deciphering the emotions running through you. You were relieved at his presence, grateful that he had come to your aid, but the venom that laced his voice kept you on edge. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was enraged. You could feel how tense his muscles were behind you, and you knew Hongjoong must have been observing you in your absence and had sent Seonghwa before things got out of hand. Whether this was because they were truly upset by the way the girls had spoken to you or because they were simply telling the truth behind the daemon’s behavior, you weren’t sure. Neither option ended with a positive outcome and the image of Hak Seongmin dead in the streets ran through your mind once more.

“No, I’m fine.” You tried to wriggle your way out of his grasp, growing more panicked as the situation began to escalate. If you didn’t do something quick, someone was going to end up in major trouble. “We were just talking.”

“Oh, are these friends of yours?” Despite your attempts at escaping, his grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your hip.

“Uh-huh, we’ve been friends forever.” Hayoon’s expression shifted at his response, eyes glittering dangerously as she took full advantage of his ‘mistake’. The innocent smile batted his way all but proving she was not aware of the danger in his stance. “I came out to compliment this beautiful dress of hers; it’s just a shame she spilled her wine. She’s always been a little clumsy.”

“Is that so?” Seonghwa twirled you around to face him, free hand roaming to the front of your dress that was no soaked. You couldn’t suppress the shiver his touch against your bare skin brought, the dark glint in his eyes lightening momentarily as his finger traced against the blade of the sword etched there. “It must have just slipped.” Oh, he knew. He definitely knew. “Why don’t we get you inside to warm back up, huh, pretty? The others have been eager to see you.”

“I… Mu dress, though. I should probably-“

“Invite your friends? What a wonderful idea, angel.” His hand raised to your face, cupping your cheek with a look that shook you to your core. “I’m sure the others would love to meet them.”

“Really?” Hayoon had a hard time holding back her surprise, but she recovered quickly, shooting a smug smirk in your direction when she thought Seonghwa wasn’t looking. The twins, however, seemed a lot less interested in Seonghwa’s offer, eyeing the two of you carefully as they whispered to each other behind Hayoon. “It would be an honor, sir.”

The last thing you wanted was to go with them. You knew something was up with Seonghwa. His grip was tight enough around your waist that you were afraid it would bruise, and the smile he sent your way was strained, not even remotely reaching his eyes. He was terrifying enough as it was when you had been with him before, but it was nothing compared to the scene now, and you couldn’t suppress a shiver from coursing through you when he dragged you along after him.

Hayoon, oblivious to the tension between you and Seonghwa, attempted to strike up a conversation with him as you went. She batted her eyes and hit him with the sweetest smiles she could manage, but Seonghwa didn’t even look in her direction. And once she realized her efforts were in vain, her smiles vanished altogether, exchanged for scowls directed towards the object of his fascination, you.

It would have unnerved you if your mind hadn’t already been elsewhere. Any fear you had felt towards Hayoon and her threats, and even Seonghwa, dissipated when the person he was taking you to finally hit you. Unless he decided to be mysteriously missing once more, you were finally going to meet Hongjoong. You were finally going to meet the daemon king.

“Seonghwa, I can’t do this.” Upon hearing you speak, he leaned his head towards you to better hear you, fingers drawing you all the closer towards him. A motion Hayoon was quick to pick on beside you. “My dress, it’s ruined. I can’t go in front of him or the others like this. Just let me go home, please? I want to go home.”

“It’ll be okay, angel. It’s our fault this happened. We told you we would keep you safe, that nothing would happen to you tonight, but we failed.” As you made it to the steps, his grip tightened once more to keep you steady. “The last thing any of us cares about right now is some stupid dress.”

“But-“

“Let’s just go see the others for a bit and then we can all go home, okay?” Seonghwa’s expression did soften this time when he looked down at you. “I promise.”

You wanted to tell him that defeated the whole point of your argument. As much as you did take relief in hearing you wouldn’t have to stay here for much longer, it did nothing to relieve the fears you had confessed earlier. It did nothing to get you away from having to see him. But any argument you might have been about to voice fell away as you took sight of the group you were approaching.

Despite the fear clawing it’s way through you, your eyes were quick to lock onto Hongjoong. He sat in the middle of the group, leg propped up as he lounged and looking every bit the king he was. His hair was multicolored, black on one side and white on the other, strange, but oddly fitting of his other features.

Mingi was bent over on his right, listening to something he was saying, but popped up as Seonghwa approached with you in tow. His dark eyes ran over your figure once before stepping away, allowing Hongjoong’s full attention to be on you as he disappeared to do whatever it was he had just been tasked with.

“Your majesty, I present to you Miss l/n y/n, the Black Angel.” Seonghwa’s grip released you as he bowed before stepping away to join the others and leaving you alone before him.

Unsure of what to do or how to act, you decided the best course of action was to follow Seonghwa’s lead and lifted your skirt to fall into a deep curtsy. You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you remained silent. What would you have even said if you did find the courage? The proper etiquette for a situation such as this one was unknown and foreign to you. After all, never in your life did you think a moment like this one would ever come to you. Never in your life did you think you would be face to face with the daemon king.

He was silent at first, face unreadable as he took in your shaking figure. You didn’t dare look him in his eyes and stared at the floor instead, hoping he wouldn’t be upset by the fact the dress he had given you was now beyond repair.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, angel.” He rose from his seat to approach you, and after only ever hearing his voice inside your head before, it felt strange to hear him speak to you out loud. “As well as to finally thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” It took everything in you to not flinch when he reached for your hand, but it was impossible to control the shiver that overtook you when his lips brushed against your knuckles. “You’ve done a great service to your king and your kindness will not be left unrewarded for much longer.”

“Please, you’ve already done so much. Any service I might have done to aid you had been paid in full already. No further reward is needed.” If he really wished to reward you like he said, he could do so by answering the questions that had been haunting you for the past weeks, but you didn’t dare voice this in front of him.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact I feel my gratitude has remained unmatched by your kindness and grace.”

His head tilted and you were acutely aware of the way your hand was still grasped firmly in his. As much as you wanted to pull it away and disappear from his intense gaze, you found yourself leaning into it all the same. His mere presence was awe-inspiring. You could feel the power rolling off of him, the intensity of it far surpassing any of his generals, and yet, as terrifying as it was, it was also… inviting. You felt bare and exposed beneath him, and yet there was still a warmth to it hidden beneath the surface, as though inviting you to let his aura fill your entire being and make you whole once more.

The trance was broken when someone cleared their throat behind you, grounding you back to reality. You were swiftly reminded of the three other girls standing behind you awaiting the introductions Seonghwa had promised them. Hongjoong also took note of it, golden eyes glancing behind your shoulder and smile faltering as he took them in.

“These are your friends, are they not?” He spit the word out, as though the mere thought of them being anything resembling it was sickening. “Go see Jongho for me, will you, angel? I’d very much like to talk to them.”

“C’mere, angel.” Jongho called out to you, extending a hand towards you. Hongjoong used the grip he still had on you to extend it in his direction without allowing you to decide for yourself if it was something you wanted. Jongho’s hand was gentle, but firm as he brought you over towards him. His eyes were darker than normal and body tense as he pulled you close to him, masking his usual bashful behavior around you.

“Your highness, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Hayoon approached first, the only one who still seemed interested in this meeting, and drew herself into a deep curtsy. “I am Ahn Hayoon. My father is the lead councilman of Maehwa.”

“My interest doesn’t lie in introductions tonight as I’m already well aware of who you are.” There was a shift in his tone, dark and commanding. Even Hayoon seemed to be taken back, not quite as smug as you expected her to be when he stated he already knew who she was. “I’m far more interested as to what happened out on the balcony earlier.”

“I apologize, but I don’t quite understand what you mean.” Her face fell, eyes flickering towards you, almost as if she was asking for your help. Asking you to back her claims up. “If you’re referring to the dress, her hand slipped.”

“Ah, yes. And please remind me, was this before or after you threatened her life?”

“What? No, I-“

“‘They’re going to kill her once they’re done with her. We’ll just be doing them a favor when we beat them to it.’ Isn’t that what you had said? That you’ll turn her over to the authorities once you’ve had your fun with her?” A smile had crossed his features, but it wasn’t the same smile he had shown you moments earlier. There was nothing kind about this one. "Tell me, just what sort of fun were you referring to?"

“What does it even matter? She’s just a mutt. You already plan on killing her once you’re done with her anyways.” Hayoon’s face was pale, but she didn’t back down, frustrated by the fact you had seemingly still been picked over her and fueled by the alcohol she had consumed. “Whatever it is that she’s done for you, she just did it to save her own skin. She’s-“

But whatever other insults she was going to throw your way was replaced by a low gurgling and her hands flew up to her neck. In a movement faster than you could properly comprehend, Hongjoong had slit her throat; the only sign he had done it was the blood now dripping off his extended claws.

“Oops, my hand slipped.” He laughed, running his tongue over one of the nails to taste the blood that now stained them. “How disappointing,” his face fell, “it’s terribly bitter.”

Your entire body froze, heart nearly stopping as you watched her body slink to the floor.

He had killed her. Just like that. No questions asked. And all for what? Because she had threatened your life? Because she had offended you?

“You fucking monster!” A few scattered screams rose up, alerting the rest of the crowd of the murder that had just taken place, but it was Hayoon's father who drew your attention. "That was my daughter!" The high councilman of Maehwa made his way across the room, collapsing to his knees next to her body with a strangled cry. He was too late though. Hayoon was nearly beyond saving now. "You!" His finger pointed straight to you, eyes glistening with tears and yet glaring at you like this was all your fault.

Was it? Was this your fault?

“Get over here and save her. That’s an order.”

You knew you needed to move. You knew you needed to listen to him and pull yourself back together and try something to save her. She was gone, you knew that, but you couldn't just stand there and do nothing either. But no matter how much you screamed at your legs to move, you were frozen in your spot, paralyzed by fear. Your eyes were glued to the blood dripping off Hongjoong's hand, wondering why you had ever let your guard down around him. Why had you ever let your guard down around any of them? They were killers. You knew that. You had seen it.

Oh, god. Was Hayoon right? Were you next?

"Oh, that's an order?" Hongjoong bent down to match the man's eye level, head tilting to the side as though them ordering you to do anything for them was ridiculous. He grabbed the councilman's chin with his hand, bloody claws still extended and digging into his skin. "And what will you do after she saves your daughter's life, hm? What gratitude will you show her? A noose, perhaps? For taking the precious attention you and your daughter so desperately craved? You pigs make me fucking sick."

While the majority of the crowd watched the scene unfold in horor, glued to their spots in a similar fashion as yourself, a few attendees had made an attempt to escape through one of the two doorways leading out. But despite them remaining open, something was blocking them from leaving. Something invisible. Something that left their pounding fists bouncing back off uselessly.

"This woman has saved thousands of your soldiers and citizens and what have you done to show your appreciation, huh? What have you done to thank her?" Hongjoong dropped the councilman's head in disgust, standing to address the crowd. "She risked her life countless times to ensure the soldiers you left for dead had a second chance at life. Stayed up countless nights to brew the potions you took to save your own and not a single ounce of gratitude was ever shown her way. You punished her for the smallest of crimes. Claimed she was poisoning you. called her every derogatory name you could think of, treated her like she was less than you. You would let her die without a second thought, and yet, despite it all, she still worked tirelessly to help you. But that all changes tonight. Tonight, you'll pay for your crimes."

"C'mon, angel. Let's get you out of here." Jongho began to pull you away, guiding you to the stairs behind you.

"Why? What's going to happen?" You struggled up the stairs after him, nearly tripping on your skirts at his quick strides. You legs still struggled to move, the scene of Hayoon grasping at her throat repeating over and over again. If it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you though you would very well collapse. "What are you going to do?"

Your eyes glanced behind you as you traversed the upper level to the main door, unable to hear anything else Hongjoong was saying over the panicked crowd around you.

You didn't like Hayoon. Hell, if you were truly being honest, you would even say you hated Hayoon. Hated her for the way she had treated you. Maybe you had even wished she would known what it felt like to be the one on the other side, to get a small taste of her medicine, if just a little, but that hadn't meant you had wanted her to die.

"Nothing that you need to worry about. All you need to know is that you're safe with us now. None of these pigs will ever harm you again."

Jongho weaved his way through the crowd effortlessly, and the invisible barrier that had kept them from leaving had no effect on you as he guided you through the doorway with ease.

Jongho closed the doors to the hall once you were through, shutting out the noise of the room behind you. He seemed to breathe easier now that you were both out and motioned for a nearby daemon guard to grab your cloak before the two of you stepped outside. His shoulders were still tense, but his grip on you had lightened, fingers no longer digging into your skin.

"What the hell is happening, Jongho?" You pulled away from him as you found your strength once more, eyes narrowing. You didn't know what madness they had planned, but you knew nothing good was about to go down on the other side of those doors. Whatever it was, it was something they didn't want you to see. Something they didn't want you to know about. "Where are you taking me?"

"Has it... has it really always been like that for you?" Despite your obvious frustration, his gaze softened as he took you in, no longer in a hurry now that he had gotten you out of the main hall.

"What are you talking about?" You tilted your head, slightly caught off guard by his sudden change in topic.

"That girl. She treated you so horribly, even in front of Hongjoong, And the others..." His words were soft as he tried to reach for you once more, but you stepped back from him before his hand could touch, causing it to just fall short. "I could hear what they were saying about you. What everyone was saying about you. You've saved so many of their lives, and yet, the only gratitude they seem to show you is to allow you to keep breathing."

"So? It's nothing new." Your arms crossed, attempting indifference. "I've been treated like that since I was born. That's the price you pay when you're someone like me. You should know that. It's not like the daemons have ever treated us any better. Or has the fact you just kill us when we're born blinded you to the way we're treated when we're allowed to live?

"This," you motioned to your figure as you continued, to the dress that still adorned your body and the castle you were still standing in. "This isn't me, Jongho. This dress, this party, the people. None of this is me. They never have been and they never will be. Not for someone of my status. It's just the way that it's always been. It's the way it will always be. Hayoon knew that and you killed her for it."

Oh, god, why had they killed her?

"She was going to have you killed, angel."

"That didn't mean you had to kill her!" Your arms wrapped tighter around your body, unable to suppress the shiver that racked your body as your mind replayed the scene once more. "I didn't want you to kill her."

"I'm sorry, angel, truly, but she resigned herself to her own fate. You're under our protection and anyone who threatens the lives of those under the golden crown are punished with death. Hongjoong had no choice but to-"

"Choice? There's always choice." You spit back. "The law said I should have just let Seonghwa die, and yet I chose not to. So don't tell me you didn't have a choice. The only one who doesn't have a choice here, is me." You were done playing the nice and safe act. You were done playing their game. "So, what the hell is going on? And don't give me the fucking Hongjoong excuse. I want answers. Now."

"And you'll get them, angel, I promise. Let's just get you home and out of that dress. You can take a bath to calm down and change into something more comfortable, okay? And then we can talk. How does that sound?"

You shook your head. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I know you're upset, y/n, and I can understand your frustrations, but will you please just come with me? I really don't want to have to force you back to camp."

You would have laughed at the irony of his words if it wasn't for the fact they had swiftly reminded you of the fact your siblings were still inside. In the midst of your panic, you had all but forgotten about Soomin and Hyunwoo, and your breath caught at the thought of them still being in there. Of something happening to them.

You scrambled back to the door, fingers prying at the handle to open it back up, but Jongho stopped your movements before just as it started moving.

"Let me go!" You struggled against his grasp, fighting to get back to the door. "My siblings are still in there!"

"y/n, please. You don't need to go back in there. Your siblings are fine. Mingi escorted them out a few minutes before we left. They'll be waiting for you back at camp when we return."

This made you stop. "They're at the camp?"

"Of course. We know how much they mean to you." Jongho smiled, taking advantage of your shocked state to let his fingers brush along your cheek, fully taking in your wide-eyed expression. "So, what do you say? Shall we head back and join them? The others will follow once they've finished taking care of a few things."

"If I agree, you'll answer my questions, right? You'll tell me what's going on?"

"You'll have to wait until Hongjoong returns, but yes. He promises to answer any and every question you might have for us." Jongho nodded, taking the cloak the guard had brought back and wrapping it around your body for you. "Is that okay, angel?"

You hated the sincerity he was showing you. How could he treat you with such softness after what had just happened? After everything they had done? Acting like he hadn't just willingly let his king murder someone and then following through with his orders without batting an eye. Acting like he was innocent in all this. Hongjoong may have killed Hayoon, but he was just as guilty for the role he had played.

Damn hypocrite.

Jongho flinched, making you half-wonder if he had just heard what you had called him in your head. Based on the frown that tugged at his lips, you assumed he had, but felt no ounce of guilt for it. After all, if he didn't want to hear how frustrated you were at him and the others right now, he shouldn't have gone digging through your mind.

"You already know the answer to that," you began your reply to his earlier statement, ignoring the pained expression that had crossed his face as you pushed past him to start the long walk back. "After all, we both know I don't have a choice."

@layzfeelit @calirix @seonghwarizon @yunho0o0o0o @blglmgk01 @marievllr-abg @ddeonghwva @rosie-hao @malyxsoulpersonal @kirooz @violetpenguinkris @woosmaid @eggyomelet @wooya1224 @mulanateez @kimi-kiwi @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @yourleftsock @dear-dreamie @uriruwi @purplelady85 @camzpetite @peachesandcream-9 @beautysirenss @peachy-yabbay @seonghwaholic @honeyedtalisman @nichobins @fl0r4f4wn @avantalem @seojonneh @is4b3ll3s @ahhhhhhhhhghh @slutforheeseung @hyunjiminssi @knucklesdeepmingi @mrcarrots @wxnderingthoughts @moni-cah @hazel42 @blaaiissee @anushka-k @peppermint-tea-life @all-black-darling @not-everything-is-so-primitive @naiify @sophxom @kuleo26 @doublebunv @halotopicecream @shakalakaboomboo

a/n: let me know if you would ever like to be on or off the taglist!

#ateez x reader #ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fantasy au #yandere #yandere ateez

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reina-writes · 1 year

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Two Suns and A Star [chapter 1, Din Djarin / f!reader)

Summary: Y/N, a young heiress of House Vosa from Tatooine, has been kidnapped and her family is desperate to bring her home. Her family hires Din Djarin, a skilled bounty hunter, to find and bring her home.

As Din sets out on his mission, he discovers that Y/N is not only a valuable hostage but he has to navigate the treacherous criminal underworld of Tatooine, where danger and betrayal lurk around every corner, to reunite Y/N with her family.

Characters: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Warnings: Kidnapping.

Chapter: 1 / 10?

A/N: Yeah, I don't know. This may be a bit of AU-ish. I'm sorry if the first chapter is a bit fast-moving, as it is basically just setting up the story. Please enjoy the first chapter of "Two Suns and A Star". Let me know what you think of it!

Chapter 2 will be up on May 28th - due to amount of school and work I haven't had time to finish chapter 2. I'm sorry for the delay, being full-time student at the university and having a full-time job has been lately stressing and taking my time way too much. Chapter 2 is almost written and I need to proof-read it after that and maybe do some editing. It's on it's way but I want it to be perfect.

Two Suns And A Star

Chapter 1:

Din Djarin stood before the head of House Vosa, a wealthy and powerful family from Tatooine. The elder man, wearing golden robes with blue embellishments, sat on an ornate chair with his two sons, the heirs of the family, standing stoically by his side. The room was guarded by a group of golden-masked guardians, ready to act at a moment's notice should the bounty hunter pose a threat. The air was thick with the scent of opulence and authority, the walls adorned with valuable artifacts and fine art.

Y/N, a young heiress of the family, had been kidnapped during the local festival. Her family was desperate as there weren't enough clues to point who could be behind the action so the family reached out for Din. He knew that his reward for completing this mission would be more than enough to cover the much-needed maintenance for his ship, Razor Crest. Last job had been hard and unfortunately his ship had taken the most of the damage. Din knew he was no expert at fixing the ship, that was in dire need of repairs. Currently, it was held together with little more than duct tape and extra welding.

"Find my precious little flower and bring her home," the elder man commanded with a weary voice. Din nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. "Do you have any leads, any information about the kidnappers?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of deception. The elder Vosa shook his head. "None. We have searched high and low, but there's nothing. We fear for Y/N's safety."

Trust no one. Words echoed in Din's head as he looked at the two heirs of the family, who seemed to be just as worried as their father. Turning his gaze back to the head of the house, Din nodded.

"I will do my best to find her and bring her back safely," he said, his voice firm. The elder Voss nodded. "We trust in your abilities, bounty hunter. Do not fail us."

With that, Din turned to leave. As he walked out of the room, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to this kidnapping than meets the eye.

---

Alyena, Y/N's lady-in-waiting was sitting on a small couch, squeezing a handkerchief in her trembling hands. Her dark pink dress seemed to accentuate her red cheeks even more. Din sat down on a small wooden chair opposite the couch. “Tell me about the festival. Was it Y/N’s idea to go there?”

Dark-haired girl nodded a bit as she spoke in a hushed voice. “It is our tradition to go to the Festival of the Desert Bloom every year. You know Tatooine is a desert planet and there’s not many flowers here that could survive in this environment except some cacti and desert flowers. The festival celebrates the short but beautiful blooming period of the desert flowers. It’s… amazing. Y/N loves the atmosphere of the festival, the crowds, the colors, the music…”

Alyena’s voice hitched a bit when mentioning Y/N’s name and for a moment Din waited that the girl would start hysterical crying. Again. But she took couple of deep breaths before continuing. “She usually likes to spend her time on the library reading or walk on the small garden her father built for her mother. But sometimes we go to the city, for shopping and exploring. Her father makes sure there’s always at least two guards with us if we go outside. Like on the festival.”

“Tell me about the guards. How many were there?” Alyena’s expression turned uneasy, but she tried to hide it with a weak smile. “There were four guards, including the captain of the guard.” “Did they notice anything unusual? Did they see or hear anything that could help us find Y/N?” Din asked, looking at the young woman. Alyena shook her head. “I’m afraid not, they were with us the whole time. Captain Thomart escorted us, and three other guardians were within a reach, keeping watch.” Din narrowed his eyes slightly behind the helmet. “Are you sure about that?” Alyena hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes, I’m sure. We were together the whole time.”

Din studied Alyena’s face carefully, trying to read her expression. He had already talked with the guards, but he wanted to hear Alyena’s version of what had happened. Din wasn’t convinced that she was telling the truth either, but he didn’t want to push too hard just yet. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Do you remember anyone that Y/N talked to at the festival? Maybe someone who seemed suspicious or out of place?” Alyena shook her head again. “No, I don’t remember anyone like that. Y/N was mostly interested in the flowers and the fabrics, she didn’t talk to many people.”

Din sighed, feeling a little bit frustrated. He had hoped that Alyena would be able to provide some useful information, but it seemed like she was either holding back or genuinely didn’t know anything. “Is there anything else you could remember? Anything can remember would be useful.”

The girl sat quiet a moment, before lifting her gaze. “Y/N’s dress was scarlet and gold. She picked the color from Sunsand Scarlet, her favorite flower. She stood out from the crowd. Everyone else was also wearing colorful clothes, but her colors were a different and so vivid… There was this one vendor who sold flowers. The old man said something like she looked good in red and gave Y/N a single sandy as gift.”

“A sandy?”

Alyena nodded, frowning a little. “Yes, Sands of Deception, the one with pink and white petals and thorns. We call them sandies. It’s pretty little flower but usually it’s not given as a gift because the name is a bit… Ominous. My grandmother used to say that getting sandies was a bad luck.”

It was an odd detail, but not so unusual. There could be a reasonable explanation for that, Din thought. Maybe the vendor was gifting the first flower he got on his hands. Or maybe he wanted to get rid of them and gave them everyone. With the name and reputation like that, even Din would think twice before buying sandies.

“Thank you for your time, Alyena. If you think of anything else that could help us find Y/N, please let me know.”

Alyena nodded, her eyes downcast. “I will, I promise.”

Din got up from the chair and made his way out of the room, deep in thought. He needed to find more leads, and fast. Y/N’s life could be in danger, and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her on his watch.

---

It was cold and dark. The only light source in this tiny cell were the stars above, shining from the small window near the ceiling. Y/N snuggled up with old grey blanket to get more comfortable, but it wasn’t easy with the heavy cuffs on her sore wrists. Y/N tried to shift her position, but the hard concrete floor beneath her offered no respite. She had woken up suddenly, dreaming about something… something bad. In the dream, there had been shadow figurines and monsters. She had found herself standing next to a man wearing beskar armor, trying to warn him. Trust no one.

Dream had been full of shadows, monsters, something bad, she had sensed it. In the dream Y/N stood beside the man with a beskar armor, trying to warn him. Trust no one.

She couldn't remember much else about the dream, but the feeling of fear and danger lingered on. Y/N shook her head, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It was just a dream, she reminded herself. But even as she tried to convince herself of this, she could still feel the safety and comfort she had felt next to the man in the beskar armor.

Who was the man? She didn’t know anyone wearing armor like that, only heard stories. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to recall the dream but it was pointless. The memory of the bizarre dream was already fading. It was only a dream – a bad dream, nonetheless. Y/N shuddered, pulling the thin blanket closer to her chest. The dream may have been just her imagination, but the sense of foreboding it left behind was all too real.

Y/N sighed heavily, shivering in the chilly air. Or maybe she was shivering because of the concussion she got when captors tossed her in the cell. The throbbing pain in her head was getting worse again and Y/N didn’t dare to move any more as the dizziness took over once again.

She wished for something to occupy her mind, but all she could do was stare up at the stars above and wonder if anyone out there was thinking of her. Memories of her past flooded her mind, both happy and painful, and she struggled to push them away. Her friends and family, were they looking for her? Fear and worry twisted her stomach, but she refused to give in to tears. Her captors wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her break down. Y/N Vosa was raised better than that.

Y/N was determined to stay strong, to be brave even in the face of fear. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to find a way to escape the present moment. The dream world seemed like the only way out, a place where she could be free from her captivity and pain, both physical and mental.

As she lay there in the dark, she could hear faint noises from outside the cell. Voices and footsteps, someone was nearby. Y/N tensed up, wondering if it was her captors or perhaps a potential rescuer. She tried to focus on the sounds, straining her ears to make out what was being said. It was difficult to hear anything with the thick metal door muffling the noise, but she could tell that there were at least two voices. One was gruff and menacing, the other was more measured and calmer. The voices grew closer and Y/N could make out more of what they were saying. Reward. Girl. Promise.

She strained to listen, hoping for any clue as to what was happening outside her cell, but it seemed the arguing stopped as quick as it had started. She heard the footsteps come closer and closer until they stopped right in front of her cell. Suddenly, there was a loud metallic clang and the door to her cell swung open, flooding the room with bright light. Y/N blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness that made her head feel like exploding. And then she saw a man she didn’t recognize.

A tall, muscular man with a long scar running down his cheek stepped inside the cell, holding a plate. He was wearing all black, the only colorful detail was the red symbol in his left arm. The man approached her slowly, his steps cautious as he assessed her condition. Y/N held her breath, unsure of what to expect. She was back-to-back with wall, nowhere to escape.

Instead, man set the plate next to her, before taking a step back. Y/N hesitated for a moment, but the pain in her head and the hunger in her stomach made her squirm and man saw that. "Eat, it will help you feel better," the man said with a quiet voice. She couldn’t recognize the food on the plate but the bread on the side looked freshly baked. As her stomach crumbled, Y/N reach out with her cuffed hands and took the bread from the plate. The bread was still warm, golden crust crispy when she tore off a piece and chew it slowly. It tasted like a homemade. The man watched her, his eyes unreadable.

"Who are you?" Y/N asked, tearing more pieces into her mouth. The man hesitated for a moment before answering. "Just someone who made a promise." With that, he turned and left the cell, closing the door behind him and with that, she was left alone once again.

Y/N finished the last bite of bread and felt a sense of warmth and comfort spread through her body. The man's simple gesture had given her a flicker of hope that she could hold onto. She leaned back against the wall, feeling her eyes grow heavy with fatigue. As she closed her eyes, she felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her. The memories of her past and the uncertainty of her future faded away as she drifted into a peaceful slumber. She dreamed of the man in the beskar armor, of standing beside him as they fought off monsters and shadows. She felt safe and protected in his presence, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

-- Din had made his way back to the Razor Crest, his mind still preoccupied with Y/N’s kidnapping. It felt good to be back on familiar ground after his encounter with Alyena. Something about her had made him uneasy, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important. He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. He had a job to do, and he needed to focus on that.

He walked over to his equipment cabinet, opening it and beginning to gather his gear. His hands moved with practiced ease, pulling out weapons and ammunition, checking and double-checking to make sure everything was in working order. He couldn't afford any mistakes on this mission - not when innocent one’s safety was on the line. Din took a deep breath and tried to push aside his concerns. He knew he needed to focus on his mission: find the vendor who had given flowers to Y/N and track down any leads that might help him locate her. He quickly gathered his gear, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead.

As he was about to close the cabinet, he heard a rustling sound coming from behind him. He turned to see Grogu reaching for one of his weapons. "Grogu, no," Din warned, scooping the little creature up in his arms. "That's not a toy."

Din carefully placed Grogu on the nearby bench, watching as the little one cooed contentedly. He turned back to the task at hand, struggling to locate a specific device in his equipment. As he fumbled with the stubborn cabinet, he heard a voice - a soft, unfamiliar voice. "I don't think you're doing it right."

Din spun around, his blaster already drawn and aimed, but there was no one else in sight except for Grogu. The little one cooed softly, seemingly unfazed by the situation. Confused, Din lowered his weapon slightly, searching the space around him for any signs of danger. That's when he noticed a figure forming in front of him - a flickering and translucent figure. Instinctively, Din stepped in front of the bench, shielding Grogu and aiming his blaster at the forming figure. He couldn't help but feel on edge - how was this possible? He didn't have a projector here. "Dank farrik," he muttered under his breath. As the figure became more solid, Din realized that it was a girl, a stranger with warm eyes and an easy smile. He couldn't help but be startled by her sudden appearance. Grogu cooed softly as he looked up at the flickering figure. He didn't seem scared, but rather curious. Din watched as the little one reached out a small hand towards the girl, as if trying to touch her. Din tensed, ready to protect him, if necessary, but the girl didn't seem to pose any threat. Still, he kept his blaster trained on her.

"Who are you?" Din demanded, keeping his blaster trained on her. "What are you doing here?" The girl's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of confusion. "I don't understand," she said. "You're the one who brought me here."

"I didn't bring anyone here," Din said firmly his grip on his blaster still tight. "And I don't appreciate unexpected guests. Now, who are you and how did you get here?"

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin imagine #din djarin #din x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader

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gavinsdeviant · 2 years

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Minefields

Remember to drink water and eat something! Hope you enjoy <3

cw/tw- overthinking, me projecting onto Angel a little too much, anxiety, trauma response, just early relationship things

word count- 691

fandom- RedactedAudio (known as RedactedASMR)

pairing- David & Angel

@davidshawswife @daveysangelsposts @thesunandmoons-blog

Tagging @angelcactus and @cupcakegeckolover for the second edit of this version, since it looks a little different now

Angel paces back and forth in the living room, throat tight. They stare out onto the driveway, still empty even as the sun had set a while back. They gnaw on a fingernail absentmindedly as their mind races.

They couldn’t force themselves to slow, to become calm without him here.

Getting yourself worked up isn’t helping.

David still wasn’t home. He hadn’t texted, hadn’t let Ash know to tell them— nothing.

He always left some sort of message, and it unnerved them. Not to mention they had no idea what he did for a living. If he’d gone missing, they would have no idea where to look.

What if something bad happened? Not only did their body stiffen at the thought, but it warmed with a newfound anger. If only he had just said, instead of being so secretive, then they wouldn’t be so worried.

He owes you nothing, some voice at the back of their mind whispered.

They hurry over to the kitchen and lay their palms flat on the table, feeling the cool countertop beneath their fingers. It tethered them, kept them feeling grounded.

They hadn’t even been dating five full months and here they were, getting too attached already.

Their eyes burn, but they blink away the tears.

We’re practically strangers. He doesn’t owe me anything.

They hadn’t felt this way with anyone before. Not Michael and not anyone before him. Loving him wouldn’t last— how could it? Having a love this strong always come with a price.

You don’t deserve him. He’s too good for you.

Their heart squeezes in their chest, emotion welling in their throat.

It hurt to imagine their days without him. Days without him waking up nestled into their side, hair shading his eyes in the morning light. It sent fear skittering up their spine at the thought of him never coming back. Never coming back to—

“Angel?”

They jolt at the nickname he had started calling them 2 months ago, furiously wiping a hand over their wet cheeks.

He touches a big hand to their shoulder and they can see the concern in his eyes as they swing around to face him, angry.

“Where were you?” They hadn’t been this mad at someone in a long time. Hadn’t been this mad and allowed themselves to actually feel it. And they were mad at him for being their Davey, the only one who’d managed to disarm them completely and had them defenceless now, vulnerable.

They blink up at him through damp lashes, glaring.

“I was at work,” he grumbles, frowning. “Where else?”

“Where do you go?” they whisper, voice rough. Tears cloud their vision again and they avoid his eyes as they try and ignore the wave of sadness, and rage, and everything in between.

He blinks, looking torn. “Angel, I can’t really-“

“Why can’t you? I’ve been worried sick and I-“ they snap their mouth shut, a sob catching in their throat.

He scans their face and his features soften.

“I’m okay.” His voice is steady, deep. Grounding. He lifts a hand to touch their face but they jerk back, drawing in a sharp breath. He drops his palm and makes a comforting sound.

“Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he doesn’t go to touch them again, only whispers those words like a prayer. Before they know it they’re pushing out the door, face in their hands as they stumble past him.

“Baby.” They stop at his voice and turn to glance at his face, ashamed. “I would never hurt you.”

They give him a watery smile.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright.” He smiles down at them, smile so soft. “You want a hug?

The floodgates finally open as tears track down their cheeks. Their shoulders fall and their chest caves in as he wraps his arms around them, tight.

“I’m sorry,” they hiccup.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to their cheek. He cups their face in his hands then, so carefully as they both sink to the ground in each other’s arms. He presses a kiss to each knuckle before whispering,” I love you.”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted asmr comfort #redacted david #redacted angel #when have I not projected onto a character?#it's a common thing at this point

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elvendara · 1 year

Text

MYSME FICTOBER DAY 8/JUMIN WEEK DAY 4

@mysme-fictober & @juminweek2019

Michael's Edition

8 October 2023—BOO! Jumin Week—Acts of Service

Jumin held the phone between his shoulder and cheek, trying not to let it slip.

“Just…I don’t…ahh…” the phone fell to the carpeted floor. He picked it up in frustration, letting go of the fake spiderweb he had been trying to stretch across the bookcase. “This is ridiculous, why did I even think I could do this?”

“Settle down Jumin, you can. Also, what was that muffled sound? What are you doing exactly?” Saeyoung asked through the phone speaker.

“Trying to pull apart this stupid web while still listening to you. I only have two hands you know.” He said.

“Uh, you know you can put the phone on speaker right?” Saeyoung joked.

“Oh, right.” He felt like an idiot. Hitting the speaker button on the phone he set it down on a side table. “OK well, what do I do after I finish with the web?” he asked.

“Change out the bulbs in some of the lamps, you got the purple bulbs right?”

“Yes, I bought everything on the list you sent me.”

“Really? Wow, you really are going all out aren’t you?”

“It’s Lillie’s favorite holiday, so I want to make it special, and I don’t want her to lift a finger this year, I just want her to enjoy it for the entire month.”

“You could have just paid someone to do it, you’re filthy rich after all.” Saeyoung laughed.

“That wouldn’t be the same. I want to do the work and see the look on her face.” He was aware that it likely would look much better if he hired someone to decorate, but, he knew Lillie well enough to know that she would love it all the more because of his effort. Though he hadn’t thought he would be fighting with fake spiderwebs.

“I think I can handle placing the items in an aesthetically pleasing arrangement, however, I might need help again in setting up the fog machine for the cauldron.”

“Sure, I’m here all day! Sounds like you have things well in hand.”

“Indeed, if I require more hands, I’ll simply ask my security team. Thank you again Saeyoung for the support and suggestions.”

“Any time! Make sure you take pic…uh, that Lillie takes pictures!” he laughed.

Jumin grunted as he hit end call on the phone. He’d gotten better at taking pictures, it wasn’t his fault that the stabilization on his phone was finicky.

He was meticulous in his arrangement of the décor, not a single surface was without a Halloween item. With Saeyoung’s help, he’d even been able to create an actual bubbling cauldron that wouldn’t create and environmental hazard in the apartment.

Hours, he had been working for hours and the setting sun outside reminded him that Lillie was due to arrive home soon. He checked his watch and saw that he had only minutes. He turned off any lights whose bulbs hadn’t been changed, turned on the cauldron, and lit the candles. Fairy lights were strung throughout the decorations giving the areas a ethereal quality. The scent of pumpkin spice and apple cider wafted through the room as well. Satisfied, all that was left to do was wait.

It didn’t take long before he heard the rattle of the front door, hiding behind it as it opened inwards he held his breath for his love’s reaction.

He heard Lillie inhale as the scenery caught her attention. She took a few steps inside, her head scanning the entirety of his labor. Quickly he slammed the door closed and jumped at her with a loud “BOO!”

Lillie screamed and turned, her hand already balled into a fist before noticing that it was her beloved.

“Jumin! You scared me!” heart racing she doubled over in relieved laughter.

“I’m sorry my love, I couldn’t help myself.” He enveloped her into his arms and held her close as her heart regained equilibrium. “Do you like it?” he asked as he released her.

“Like it? I love it! How much did it cost to do this? You know I would have decorated myself.” She said, but her smile never left her face.

“Oh, well, the cost was only in supplies, I decorated.” Jumin said, running a hand through his thick black hair, a grin on his face. “Took several hours, but it was well worth it to see your reaction.”

“You…you did this? All by yourself?” she asked, turning to her husband, golden brown eyes wide.

“Saeyoung helped with some of the more intricate items, but I set it all up on my own. I just wanted to surprise you. I know how much you love this holiday and how hard you worked last year. I wanted you to just be able to enjoy the season this year and concentrate only on your costume for the party.”

“Party?”

“Absolutely, I think having a Halloween party here would be quite entertaining, don’t you?”

“Oh yes! That sounds wonderful!” Lillie threw herself on her husband and held him close, tears of joy filled her eyes and a wide smile plastered her face. “I can’t imagine being any happier than I am right now! Just…I…the thought and effort you put into all of this has me in tears. I love you so much Jumin.”

“I love you too. And I would do anything to see that radiant smile on your face for the rest of our lives.”

They kissed.

#mysme fictober #mysmefictober2023 #day 8 #BOO!#Jumin Han #Juminweek #juminweek2023 #day 4 #Acts of Service #JuminXLillie #I stand by that ending!

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bendungodly · 4 months

Text

There were no instances or possibilities of Ofelia and Valentinus' first (proper) meeting to ever be kind and friendly. No, one of them always had to hate the other first. For this (one and only) case, when their eyes met that one monday afternoon at one of the classes they shared, impressions were made and set in stone; Ofelia hated Valentinus.

Ofelia swung the thick wooden door by throwing her body onto it, miscalculating the amount of force she needed to open it thus making the door collide to the wall and set a strident noise. She flinched, grimaced, and looked up at the inside of the classroom in which she found was filled with eyes of judgement and disgust marking her down like prey. It almost felt cultish. Ofelia gulped and scanned her eyes around the room. Apart from all the tight faces from her classmates, she saw a girl at the front just standing. The girl didn't look like the teacher and Ofelia guessed that the one sitting on top of one of the desks was the supposed figure of authority here, one that was also looking at her unkindly.

And before she could mutter a sorry—before she could even shake the feeling of all the eyes pinned at her so that she could finally move and walk and sit somewhere—her eyes unexplainably bounced back to the girl standing upfront. This time, the girl had on a kind and perfect crescent moon smile in the sea of heads turning back to look at her. Ofelia's eye almost twitched at the sight.

It was beautiful—by god, she was beautiful. It was a view made for the heavens, with the afternoon sun shining tenderly on her face and the black backdrop of the chalkboard making her look baroque-esque; the shadows and lights perfectly contrasted as if it is being edited and color graded live. It was fucking magnificent.

And Ofelia wanted to throw the nearest stool she could grab at her.

She couldn't explain it, why instead of admiration, or awe, or any of those soft feelings she was supposed to feel at witnessing such beauty didn't wash over her, instead, a bitter, jaw clenching, eyebrow furrowing loathing bloomed within her. Bloomed might not even be the word because that is reserved only for flowers, and the emotions she's feeling aren't very flowery. It is rather electrifying and it crawls up to dry one's throat after leaving a pit in one's stomach.

Ofelia desperately wanted it to stop. She wanted the freezing spell casted upon her to break and finally have the freedom of moving and walking towards the nearest empty seat. She couldn't do that of course, she could only ball up her fists, blink her eyes rapidly, and breathe irregularly as she is being forced to stare longer at this bewitching view.

In its entirety, this moment didn't last longer than five seconds (although, of course it felt like eternity for Ofelia).

Eventually, the girl upfront broke the eye contact (as well as the spell on Ofelia) and began to speak. Her voice predictably kind and polite, "Okay! Hi again, everyone, I am Valentinus. Maxine Valentinus Tramonté and—" she clasped her ornamented fingers in front of her as she slightly swayed her weight from her toes to her ankles.

Ofelia lowered her head as she walked towards the front of the room where the empty seats are, trying not to make eye contact with anyone both in caution of another uncomfortable spell and the disgust of her other classmates sticking even more to her skin.

As Ofelia settled on one of the seats, her ears catch poorly concealed whispers of distaste coming from her classmates behind her. At first she thought it was about her, because who else could they be talking about, right? But when Ofelia hears Valentinus' name come out of one of their classmate's hissing mouths, she couldn't help but straighten her back and listen.

And oh look, the earlier hostile atmosphere suddenly doesn't scream Ofelia's name anymore, but rather Valentinus'. The whispers all about how they didn't know Madame Aurora had a daughter, and how they thought Valentinus was pretentious and pompous. All shallow insults in the name of jealousy. Ofelia almost laughed while Valentinus was still speaking upfront about things the class possibly asked her about earlier.

"—But call me Valentinus, yeah? No one calls me Maxine." Valentinus spoke in the same kind, respectful, and polite tone, she even threw in another unbelievably gorgeous smile. Ofelia could see it though, the resentment seeping out her gritted teeth, metallic like blood.

Ofelia furrowed her eyebrows as she understood that Valentinus felt it as well, the shift in the atmosphere. But what Ofelia didn't understand was why Valentinus bore a face that of a victor as she walked off the podium. The hostility in the air did nothing to her, it didn't destroy or humiliate her spirits at all. Then a thought popped in Ofelia's head, an almost instinctive thought as if she knew what Valentinus was feeling. That Valentinus actually liked it—basked in the hatred in fact. That this isn't a setback, it's a challenge; one that she expected and one that she will enjoy overcoming.

And because the universe is a sick fuck who loves playing tricks on Ofelia, her face contorted and morphed into that of someone who has just seen a ghost as Valentinus slowly approached her seat. The girl then sat beside her and Ofelia couldn't tear her eyes away from her as she felt a laugh creeping up her throat. Actually? She wanted to ask out loud but the laughter escaped despite her attempt to hold it in, its initial sound as if that of a frog's croak.

She laughed at the absurdity of the intensity of her emotions right now, Ofelia couldn't hate a person any more than she does now with this oddly named girl sitting shoulder to shoulder at her in a row of empty seats, and she couldn't understand why that is at all.

She palmed her face in another desperate attempt to stop her uncomfortable laughter, as well as to hide her face from the crowd of eyes back to looking at her again. Although, Valentinus' stare bore the most impactful and profound sensation to her body.

Ofelia only stopped when their teacher finally hopped off the desk and approached her seat. "What is it that you find so funny, Miss...?"

Ofelia peeked through her fingers before tearing her hands away from her face. "Ofelia d'Orta," she spoke as shame burned her back. "I'm sorry." was the only other thing she could say.

During and after this class, Ofelia and Valentinus don't talk to each other at all. Ofelia for the reason of hatred, Valentinus for indifference. Next classes that followed, seats were beginning to fill up more randomly, they never sit next to each other in this class again.

#valentinus and ofelia #bird of valentinus #maxine valentinus tramonté #ofelia d'orta

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ghostselena · 2 years

Note

BABEEEEE IF YOUR TAKING REQUESTS CAN YOU DO SMUT W RAFE IN A POOL

Title: You're mine

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: just you getting railed, what can I say? its just filth, read at your own risk, 18+

a/n: STOPPPP you literally read my mind! I had an idea like this in my phone's notes to write it down one of these days... I'm using it here cause you're amazing for that. It's a long one, I got carried away with it but damn, I'm proud. [2.6k words I'm sorry]

You may not copy or post this as your own, however, reblogs are encouraged! :) [Slightly edited]

Today had been the biggest heatwave of them all, causing the beach to be stacked with nothing but locals and tourists. Even the community pools were full, and there was no way you were going to swim with half of the outer banks.

You laid back against your towel that sat on top of the lounge chair, letting the sun warm up your now tanned skin. Sarah had invited you all over to her house to cool off, including beers to sweeten the deal to a very grumpy Jj. He could care less if his body was ready to melt off, he was set on just filling up his hot tub with nothing but ice—knowing it won’t work.

That was his excuse—one that was easily dismissed when Sarah added in a few blunts she had stolen from Rafe's stash.

With a satisfied hum, you stared down at your body, lifting up your bikini top to see the color difference. You stood up, earning the attention of a particular boy that stayed quiet against the corner of the pool, sipping on the drink he's had in his hand for the past 20 minutes.

His eyes never left your body, it looked so deliciously yummy as the sun hit your skin. If looks could devour, he would've eaten you 30 times over. The way your nipples were pressed against your top, barely giving you any coverage. He was thankful to be hiding his boner under the water, hand adjusting the bulge every few seconds.

He couldn't stand the rest of the pogues that were splashing each other back and forth, splashing him in the process. But, you? ever since Sarah introduced you at one of the kegger parties, he was hooked right away. Most times, he'd go out of his way to bother your friends to catch maybe, just a glimpse, of you.

When the both of you were left to fend for yourselves inside the pool, he couldn't stop the smirk that his lips had formed. He'd finally gotten you alone, all to himself while the others had gone inside to order something to eat. He knew just what he wanted for lunch— he'd been staring at it for over an hour, savoring every curve and inch of your body with every movement you made.

You had your head leaning back against the edge of the pool, pressing your back into one of the walls and enjoying the water pressure that massaged your back. You hadn't noticed how close the boy had gotten to you until you felt his arm brush against yours.

Your head turned to face him, slowly opening your eyes with a squint, using your hand to shield yourself from the sun.

"What do you want, Rafe?" you asked, your eyes betraying you as they scanned his well-toned body. His chest looked so smooth, so delicate, Greek-like even. He wasn't too far back, now that he had you this close, he could see your plump lips even better; The way your bikini top hugged your breast, cupping them nice and tight.

He couldn't concentrate on your question, shamelessly asking, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" his cheeks were flushed with a hint of red, and not because of the small sunburn that had started to form.

Rolling your eyes, you were now standing up straight, crossing your arms as you spoke—his eyes quickly finding your breast once more, eyes wide, "I said, what do you want? quit, staring at my boobs,"

His eyes met yours, tongue wetting his bottom lip, "They left us alone," he nods his head over to the clear door.

"So?" you shrugged, turning your head to see your friends talking amongst themselves inside, keeping themselves entertained and not looking your way

You felt a breath against your neck as your head turned, your hands quickly reacting for you and pressing themselves against his chest," Rafe, what the fuck, are you doing?"

He kept his hands to himself, looking down at your hands that were warm against his chest, "Dont you feel it?"

"Feel what?" your eyes avoided his, looking at your own hands that seemed to melt against his skin, sending small tingles through your body.

"C'mon, there's no way you dont feel what we have here," he pointed his hands back and forth between you both, looking down at you as if it were obvious.

You've had your encounters every now and then. Hands accidentally touching when you would walk past each other, the way he always chose to sit next to you when you would go out with Sarah for drinks, finding him there with the boys. How he gifted you a necklace as your secret Santa, driving him crazy cause you always wore it, never taking it off.

"I-I Rafe," your breath hitched as he got closer, his lips pressing themselves against your ear while his arms slid around your waist, you'd taken too long to answer to him, too deep in your thoughts.

"Hm, what? I know you feel it, pretty girl," he whispered against your ear, his arms closing the gap between the two of you as he pressed your chest against his, "They're not looking over here, I just wish I could taste you," his eyes were placed on your friends who had left, probably on their way to pick up what they ordered.

Your hands were back on the water, accidentally (but not really) brushing themselves against the bulge that was painfully hard, poking your stomach the moment he had you against him, "Right now?" you mumbled, looking up at the tall boy who was now looking down at you, "I want to savor your pussy, and I rather do that in my bed than in here," he bluntly replied, shrugging it off as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The wetness that had formed between your legs made you uncomfortable, he had gotten to you.

You jumped slightly when you felt a hand pressed against your needy slit, his fingers adding pressure to your clit and you quickly gripped onto his massive arms, "What-what if they see?" you barely choked out, spreading your legs to give him the access he dearly craved.

His lips were now pressed against your neck, using his free hand to wrap it around your throat while he worked his way up to your lips, hovering over them. His fingers were circling against your clit, painfully slow as he spoke, "You think I give a fuck?" he growled, knowing there was no one at home except the two of you.

You mewled, holding back your moans at the way his fingers were teasing you, wanting nothing more than to grab them and push them in yourself, "Please.." you whispered, softly pecking his lips, wanting to feel them against your own.

In one swift move, your body was pressed against the edge of the pool," M' gonna fuck you right here, and if at some point someone comes through that door, right there," he pulls his fingers away from your heat, using them to point over at the closed sliding door, "I'm not, fucking...stopping," he whispered the last word against your lips, capturing them in his with a hunger he's been pushing down for too fucking long, caving you in with no escape as his fingers pulled off your underwear, throwing them across the pool with a splash.

Your hands were quick to palm him under the water, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip, to which he happily granted access to his mouth, letting you savor the taste of the drink that lingered on his tongue; The sweet taste of Mai Tai taking over your taste buds, intoxicating your senses.

His fingers found your clit, pushing your arousal back inside with two fingers, thrusting them against you with quick speed, earning a throaty moan from your mouth, pulling your lips away from his, "Fuck-fuck, right there," you could barely gasp out, tugging his swim trunks down his leg and wrapping your hand around his cock, earning a hiss from his perfectly pink lips that were now pressed against your neck, biting down against it as he moaned, pulling his fingers away.

"I can't, fucking wait," he let out as his tongue pressed itself against his fingers, tasting your arousal that had stuck to them underwater.

You stared at him in awe, holding onto his cock while you brushed your thumb against his tip, "What are you waiting for?" you teased, clicking your tongue as you bit your lip, containing your excitement inside.

“Eager now, aren’t we?” He smirked down at you, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip gently,”But it’s gonna have to be done by the stairs,”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, knowing you won’t be able to play it off if you get caught, “But what if the-“ he pressed his finger against your lips, holding your hand and dragging you softly through the water towards the stairs, “I don’t give, a single fuck,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting back against one of the low stairs, and pulling you onto his lap.

The water was by his hips, giving you the perfect amount of water to still keep the pool sex experience, “It’s on you, then,” you noted while you had your hands against his chest, pressing down against his member, the tip kissing your entrance with its leaking goodness.

“You think too fucking much,” he murmured, lifting his hips up against you while you teased him, keeping his cock between your slit—moving your hips back and forth. Your lips parted—letting out a soft moan, “Shut up, Cameron,”

“Yeah?” He smiled back at you, sliding his hands to your hips, dropping you down onto his massive cock. He ripped right through you deliciously good, earning a squeal that fell from your lips at the suddenness, “Holy shit,”

“Thats right, let ‘em know who’s stuffing your pussy this fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your walls around him, warming him up in a way that made him want to stay in there forever, “M’ gonna make you mine, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he gave you no time to adjust to his massive size, quickly thrusting up against your pulsing heat, that kept welcoming him in with a tight hug as you held on to him, scratching down his chest.

He was hitting every spot, reaching every crease that had you screaming out his name, “Fuck, Rafe!” Your hips rolled down against his, matching his pace as the water splashed onto your bodies.

You were so deep in your pleasure that you both didn't hear the car clicking sounds, his hands kept bringing your body down against his with force, pounding his raw cock into your tight wet cunt, that he'd fallen in love in.

Only when the sound of laughter filled your ears, had you then—opened your eyes, trying to pull away from Rafe who had your body tight against his, turning his head to the side to watch the way his cock would disappear inside of you, a place he dared to call his new home.

"They're here," you spoke rather too quickly as you panicked, not knowing how to explain yourself if you got caught. With one last thrust, he stopped moving his hips, rubbing your sides before picking you up and walking back inside the water; back to the corner, you were just by before, "Better act like you were just cold then, cause I'm not stopping," his voice was hoarse against your hear, his hand was pressed against your clit, rubbing circles as he thrusted deeply into you, waving back to Sarah who had her eyes on the two of you.

Your fingers gripped the edge in front of you tightly, holding back your moans as you felt the familiar feeling form inside your stomach. He set a pace that kept hitting that one spot that made your toes curl in pleasure, "Can I cum?" you begged, pushing back against his thick and pulsing member, that just kept massing your inner walls.

"Say you're mine," he was savoring this very moment, wanting to engrave it inside his brain as you let out a couple of quiet moans, barely holding onto his composure as you nodded quickly, "Fuck, I'm yours—I'm yours," you shakily let out, hiding your face against your shoulder as you came undone around him, your swollen clit swallowing him in with each thrusts—arching your back onto him.

You knocked all the air out of his lungs as you came, his hand wrapping itself around your hair to pull your head back roughly, his lips pressing themselves against yours hungrily, pushing up against you with a brutal pace that made waves against the water.

He wasn't done with you just yet, letting you finish yourself off to continue over stimulating your sweet cunt, "Look at you, such a fucking mess around my cock, huh sweetheart?" he breathed against your lips, his tongue sliding against them as he asked for an entrance once more, using this to spit down against your tongue—that you swallowed like the good girl you are.

You were sure the rest had caught on the moment you saw the kitchen empty, no sounds coming from it anymore. You were dickmatized, already craving to have him back inside of you as he chased his own release, keeping you from pulling away from him, "All for you," you moaned, your legs were trembling once more as his fingers kept rubbing your sensitive bud, the way he was so deep and had you spread all the way apart at his mercy; letting him make you his, right outside the house he grew up in.

With a loud moan as he spilled himself inside of you, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He was flooding your insides as you milked every last drop of his seed, collapsing forwards against your arms that were leaning against the concrete. Your legs were trembling as your knees buckled, letting go of the build-up he had caused inside of you once more with a shattered breath.

You couldn't believe what just happened as he pulled out of you, watching the way his essence slid out of you slowly and into the pool. He made a mental note to clean the pool later on, but right now? All he cared about was you as his hands rubbed against your sides, "You feeling okay?"

All you could do was nod as you turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck with a smile, "More than okay," you lifted yourself to press a small kiss to his lips in appreciation. You ran your hands through his hair, letting out a small laugh, "Um, I'm pretty sure we got caught, though,"

He shook his head as he chuckled, cupping your breast in his hands with a cheeky smile, "How many times, am I gonna tell you tha-" you interrupted him, "That you don't give a fuck, I know, handsome,"

And there you stayed with your bodies against each other, enjoying the new relationship that had formed between the two of you. Already planning how you were going to explain yourself to your friends, who were clearly scarred, at least for a few months.

His lips were pressed back on yours happily, mumbling against them, "Let's continue this in my bed? I wanna taste you," he whined softly before continuing, "I wanna taste you, fuck you with my tongue,"

Your legs were back to being jelly, tugging him out of the pool with no hesitation back up towards his room, not needing to answer him with your obvious actions.

I had no idea how to end it omg, I would've kept that shit going for hourssss

Tags [let me know if you’d like to be added/removed! :) ]

@gillybear17 @my-baexht-ls @phildunphyisadilf @ailee-celeste @onmykneesforrafe @rafesrings @unbelievablystillafangirl @fashphotolife @rootbeerfaygo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader smut #outer banks #outerbanks #drew starkey x y/n

3K notes · View notes

mcyt-imagines · 3 years

Note

hi! love your writing! could you possibly do dating headcannons for technoblade?! possibly including some kissing/cuddling :)

I’m so sorry this took so long!! I’m finally on break so I’ll be posting a little more frequently for now! Also I got very carried away with this one,,,, um,,, it’s almost 4,000 words long,,, can you tell Techno is my comfort streamer?? And gender-neutral pronouns as usual! (Edit: This is C!Techno btw, didn’t think I needed to point that out seeing as we all know the actual streamer is not a bloodthirsty half-piglin man but I just got an angry anon in my ask box, so I’m specifying.))

Dating C!Technoblade HCs

Techno being half piglin shares their obsession with gold, and in turn, likes to gift you gold as often as he can. Usually, in the form of jewellery that matches his own, he even gifts you a ‘friendship’ emerald, embedded in a choker you wear most days. And of course, if you ask for it, he makes sure to acquire a crown for you to match his own. As a man who forges his own weapons, he is aware of the process of smelting and sure, he could make the jewellery himself but he’s not very crafty with his hands. Dealing with the small potion vials he uses to brew is difficult enough for his large hands, let alone something as finicky and delicate as jewellery. But when he’d asked you to make your relationship ‘official’ per se, he did persevere and make a ring for you, he ended up making several and scrapping too many he didn’t think were good enough. This continued until Phil had to intervene telling him that if he wasn’t gonna hurry up and ask you he was gonna do it for him, mortified at the thought Techno buckled down and despite the ring’s faults, which were only obvious to him, he gave it to you. You adored it of course, and then he told you he had made it, and it only made you love it more. Techno had underestimated how he would feel when he finally saw you wearing it, he almost killed Phil. The two had been sparring outside in the snow when you had come riding up from the nearby forest, the ring on your finger glinting against the early morning sun and stunning him. Him blindly thrusting his sword forward, head completely turned to you as you approached. Only turning away when he noticed your horrified expression. Thankfully Phil was fine, but you were banned from flashing anything too shiny whenever you came to visit. Techno never heard the end of it from Phil and yourself, however, teasing him for it whenever you had the time.

Techno is a man of few words, for the most part. His love language leans closer to physical touch and acts of service. This man craves your touch, you can hold him so gently in your small hands and he can hardly describe the feeling that washes over him. He wonders if he feels contentment, or if he just feels whole for once. The latter terrifies him because he has no idea what he’s going to do if he ever loses you. That’s a lie. He knows what will happen. The voices will finally win, and it’ll be over. He’ll be lost in the consciousness of a mind that was never truly his own, to begin with. But when you hold him he forgets about all of it, his mind feels clear and quiet. Even if it's just for a few minutes he cherishes those moments, holding you tightly to his chest and simply letting himself breathe. You are his rock, undoubtedly. And now that he’s lived without you for so long, he never intends on letting you go.

Techno’s favourite way to cuddle with you is when you’re both lying on the couch, you draped over him, head on his chest. Sometimes he’ll read to you and sometimes you’ll lie with him for hours, begging him to take a break for once. Even Phil can’t pull him away from his work on his worst days, but you never fail to tempt him with warm cuddles by the fire. Another one of his favourites has to be when every blue moon you wake up before him, he’s quite a light sleeper so once you stir, he’ll wake too. But if you manage to remain undetected and get downstairs he will groggily trudge down the ladder, shirtless and hair an absolute tangled mess. Without a word he will simply wrap his arms around you, pulling your back tightly against his chest and nuzzle his face into your neck all whilst grumbling that you left him alone to wake up. You will always giggle and apologise with soft kisses and a steaming cup of coffee, of course, he begrudgingly forgives you. Those slow morning cuddles as you cook are some of his favourites. When you desperately try to scoot around the small kitchen to stop the eggs from burning and he merely holds you tighter, strength easily holding you back as you whine out complaints as he chuckles against your neck.

Techno is such a sucker for you whenever you kiss his scars. He has a few on his hands that you will always target if you ever feel if he is getting quiet or distant. Your lips on his skin always pull his spiralling thoughts back to the present, back to you. Whenever he starts to feel less than human you practically drag the man to your shared bedroom to remind him of how human he is. Sometimes Techno will tell you the tales behind the scars you pay particular attention to, others he won’t, you focus on those the most. Doing your best to lighten the dark clouds that plague him on his worst days.

Techno isn’t one for a lot of PDA, content to hold your hand and occasionally kiss your forehead. However, if he ever feels threatened by any of the other members of the SMP he is likely to hold you close and glare down anyone who dares look your way. But Techno isn’t intimidated by anyone at the moment, meaning he has no reason to act particularly possessive whilst you’re out. This man adores your hands, he loves watching how small they look in his own. He’ll kiss along your knuckles, especially if you’re wearing the ring he gave you, he’ll murmur a soft, ‘Looking gorgeous your majesty.’ Just to watch the way you smile brightly at him when he does, almost always leaning forward to meet his lips with your own.

Techno is plagued by the memories of his past, the voices a constant reminder of this. He can handle them during the day, but it’s at night when he’s most vulnerable to them. The first time Techno wakes from a night terror you are practically thrown out of the bed as he violently jerks around. Which instantly sets you on alert, Techno sleeps like a rock usually. It’s only when you manage to stand up that you can see him, his body is caked in sweat, strands of his long hair sticking to his skin, the sheets are even damp from it. ‘Techno.’ You try to wake him, knowing he’s a light sleeper. But that doesn’t work. Eventually, you cautiously climb back into bed, tenderly holding his face in your hands, noticing tears slipping down his cheeks as he practically trembles. ‘Techno.’ You call his name again, nothing. ‘Techno!’ He shoots up, sending you flying backwards again in case he threw a punch with him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out. You’ve never seen him look so terrified before, he scans the room, eyes darting every which way until his eyes finally land on you. ‘A-Are you okay?’ You probe, the tears start again, but they are silent and run quick down his cheeks. His breathing is shallow and quick as his eyes seem to lose focus, looking straight through you. You move closer to him, ‘Hey, hey.’ You coo, unsure what the hell is going on because of course, Techno wasn’t going to tell you he has night terrors. You take his face in your hands again, wiping at the tears on his skin. ‘Techno you’re safe, you’re okay.’ You speak clearly before he pulls you closer, shoving his face into your chest, his arms tight around your middle. You wrap your arms around him as best you can, repeating comforting phrases until his grip loosens, and eventually, he pulls you back down to lie with him. You don’t ask him about it until he mentions it the next morning over breakfast. You hold him close as he talks, face emotionless and eyes blank, trying to distance himself from the events even as he retells them. You deserve to know the atrocious things he’s done. And yet you still choose to stay. Even after everything he tells you, you don’t budge from his side. That speaks louder to Techno than any confession of your undying love could.

Techno is a wanted individual and just by interacting with him, you’re put in danger. But being his partner doubles that danger by tenfold. His enemies will see you as his weakness and desire to use you against him. So, he takes it upon himself to train you, he knows the last thing you want to do is be the cause for his capture or untimely death. As much as Technoblade claims he never dies, if it were your life or his he would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for you. This terrifies you beyond belief of course, so you agree to let him train you. No matter if you already are somewhat skilled Techno’s paranoia surrounding your safety will always encourage him to push your skills further. Most early mornings the two of you spend together, sparring for hours until the sun is high in the sky or until you grow too exhausted to continue. Which in the early days, was often. But there comes a day when you finally best him. He doesn’t remember if he was going easy on you or was distracted by his surroundings, scanning the perimeter. He only remembers the moment you knocked him down onto his back, you look down at him panting with such a shocked expression. Techno looks up to you and holds out an arm, you take it ready to pull him back up only for him to pull you down with him. Techno holds you tight to his chest, the sun warm on both of your faces as it reflects upon the surrounding snow. Neither of you speak but you both understand what this means, you’re ready.

Techno isn’t one for grand gestures to prove his love to you. The man is dramatic, sure. But he finds himself yearning for simplicity, and you provide it. He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often, he is a man of few words, you’ve always known this so you never expected it. However, his actions scream it to you. Countless times you have mentioned small complaints about little things in your life and Techno takes them on as if the draft in your window had a personal vendetta against him. As if it had threatened your very life. You’d never seen a man fix a window frame so aggressively before. It was funnier to watch than you’d admit to him if given the chance. On one particular occasion, you mentioned his absence from the cabin, his explanation of the importance of the Syndicate and the new room Phil and himself had constructed. You understood and didn’t mention it again, not thinking anything of it but a necessary and temporary inconvenience. Only for Phil and Techno to be set up at the kitchen table when you came downstairs the next morning, the table covered in tattered books and coffee spill-stained scrolls. You were confused for a moment, spotting the Syndicate plans, codenames, etc sprawled out in Phil’s chicken scratch. Until it clicked. Hauling all of the stuff up from the Syndicate room had been a bit of a pain but the way your eyes lit up in realisation was more than enough for Techno to know it was the right choice.

This man cannot keep a secret from you. Most may think he isn’t very talkative, but you can hardly get him to shut up sometimes. Not that you’d ever want him to, eager to listen to whatever he has to say. He will always come to you when he feels he needs advice, knowing you will offer a fresh perspective that may give him the breakthrough he needs to make an informed decision. You are his rock and he never wants you to forget that. He may be more talkative with you but that doesn’t stop him from being a fantastic listener. Sometimes he can get zoned out when the voices become too much. In the beginning, you found it difficult to tell when he wasn’t able to listen, but after being around him for so long you’ve got a better knack for it. And sometimes you can’t and you keep talking, he’ll just silently press a hand to whatever part of you is easiest to reach. And that usually gets the message across. Sometimes you can pull him out of his own head, and other times you can’t. So you just sit with him in comfortable silence, usually, you’ll place your smaller hand in his and lean into him. The two of you have fallen asleep countless times like that.

However, sometimes the fact he can’t keep a secret from you leads to some comical miscommunication neither of the two of you foresaw. Phil, Techno and Ranboo had left for around a week in search of a new woodland mansion to raid, following one of Ranboo’s countless maps. Upon their return, Techno seemed visibly, off. He wasn’t being distant or getting lost in his own head, it was more as if he were actively avoiding you. Which was something very un-Techno. What made your worry increase tenfold was when you asked Phil if he had noticed any kind of difference the blonde merely shook his head. “He seems normal to me, mate.” Because there’s no way Phil didn’t notice Techno’s change in behaviour, which means they’re both hiding something from you. Knowing the two men quite well, you knew they wouldn’t break. But Ranboo would. So with your head held high, you sought out to find the boy, only to find out he was staying in Snowchester for the time being but would be returning in the morning. That night thoughts of self-doubt plagued you, wondering if it was something you had said or done that made Techno act strangely. But just as the moon was reaching its zenith, Techno came into your shared bedroom. He beckoned for you to follow him, after putting on some snow appropriate outerwear the two of you were on the back of Carl headed towards the forest’s tree line that faced the cabin. You asked Techno where you were going his only response, “It’s a surprise.” And to say your heart soared would be a slight understatement when the two of you finally reached the forest clearing. A small candlelit dinner for two inside of a dark oak gazebo. One that looked as if it had only been finished recently, the veneer on the wood still in impeccable condition as Techno led you over to it. You were truly floored by this display, stars illuminated in your bright eyes. “Phil and Ranboo helped. We brainstormed on our way back from the woodland mansion. And I, I knew I’d spill the secret the moment you asked. Sorry.” His apology and explanation are curt, much like the man himself. You hold him tight then, arms wrapped around him for as long as he’ll let you. He chuckles after a while, “C’mon, the food’s getting cold.” He pulls away after pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling your chair out for you because Phil told him to. The blush you provide lets him know he should do it more often. As the two of you begin to finish your food you hear the soft strumming of a guitar and an equally soft voice to match. Floating atop one of the branches in a nearby tree, as if he were trying to sit on it, is Ghostbur. He sends a small and quick wave when you spot him before his hand drops back down to his guitar. “Wow, you really pulled out all the stops for this, huh?” You look back to Techno to find him now stood up, offering his hand to you. “For you. Anything.” You take his hand and he leads you into the middle of the gazebo with a grace you always knew he had. Ghostbur continues to serenade, the two of you dancing in your own private world until the moon was low on the horizon once again.

Whenever Techno leaves to go and fight he knows you worry about him. You do not doubt his skills but his luck is bound to run out eventually. Skill and resources only account for so much of the outcome, luck and fate determine the rest. Techno worries when he leaves to fight as well. He worries about what will happen if he ever loses. When his enemies will come for you, his past now liable to catch up with you as well as himself. He can’t have that happen. That’s why he keeps fighting, he won’t stop until he knows that if he ever falls in battle you will be safe from his enemies past or present. When Techno eventually does get back from the battle, without fail you will swear up and down that he cannot keep doing this and that next time you’re going to leave him to bleed out in the snow on the porch. You never do. But some days Techno thinks you’d be better off if you did. But those are the kind of thoughts you happily kiss away with a soft smile and a few gently spoken words. You are always the one to patch him up when he’s injured, which isn’t often but you remain swift with sutures and bandages despite that. No matter how badly he’s been injured you will always hold him so reverently, with such a gentle expression that it never fails to floor him. Most sessions in which you patch him up devolve into soft gasps and warm hands on your body to repay you for your ‘services’.

Techno knew you were different from the moment he met you. He acknowledges how stupidly cliché that is, but it’s true. The constant chatter of the voices in his head drowned out the first time he saw you, even if it was just for a moment. They stuttered and stammered, just as he did. You floored them as much as you floored him. When you were with him, they would quieten. As if they wanted to concentrate on what you were saying as much as he did. Not even Phil made the voices act in such a way. Only you. Nowadays they only bother him on certain bad days that grow more and more infrequent the longer you are in his life. You drown them out in a way nothing else in his life ever has. He doesn’t know how he can ever repay you for that but vowing to be by your side for the rest of his life seems to be a good enough start for the two of you.

The first time Techno tells you he loves you is when you’re in battle together. Techno, Phil and yourself had decided to raid a woodland mansion, something all three of you had done before with no trouble. But upon arriving, everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. This led to the three of you becoming separated within the confines of the thick wooden walls. You were managing to keep a level head but fear was growing in the pit of your stomach. With every vindicator you took down another only seemed to replace it, leaving you tired and heaving for air. You were in good shape all things considered but you were getting tired and soon you would get careless, you needed to find Techno and Phil and get the hell out of here before things got worse. Your totem of undying tied tightly to your waist glints against the setting sun pouring through the large floor to ceiling windows as you charge past, enemies remain at your back as you plough forward heading for the set of stairs you know are here somewhere. As you spot the sacred stairs you hear a shout of pain followed by a deep snarl. You look over the stairs balcony to see Techno swarmed by a group of stubborn Vex. He looks exhausted. Bloodstains him, you’re unsure whether it’s his, the enemies, or a combination of the two. Techno fails to notice the Ravager charging towards him from behind, the axe raised high above its head. The half-piglin far too distracted by the Vex and the aiming of his crossbow at their stupid little bodies. It takes only a moment for you to vault over the second-floor railing and plummet towards the Ravager. You land on its shoulders and it stumbles, your hand shoots out to restrain its axe-wielding arm. The other hand desperately clawing at you as it grumbles and groans grow high pitched and panicked. Your legs wrap tightly around its throat until you hear a sickening pop and you fall to the ground along with the now very dead Ravager. You don’t manage to catch yourself, despite the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You let out a soft groan as a hand comes into view, Techno following it. You take his hand and he hauls you back up and onto your feet. Now that you’re closer to him you can tell that some of the blood staining his clothing is his, but you’re sure you mirror his look. He doesn’t let go of your hand now that you’re stood up and neither do you. You look up from your entwined hands to his face, he’s staring at you with an expression you can’t quite determine. “Tech-“ His lips plant firmly onto your own, swallowing your words instantly. He grips the small of your back, trying to pull you closer into him as if the two of you could fuse into one single being. When he finally pulls away to let you breathe your lungs are burning, soft gasps heaving in air. “I love you-” He mumbles the phrase repeatedly against your lips like a prayer, a mantra, only to capture your lips again before you can even respond to his confession in kind. Eventually, the two of you break apart long enough for you to be able to tell him you love him as well. You knew he loved you before that moment, but in reality, he finally realised how much he loved you. And for the first time, it didn’t scare him.

~Requests are still open! But it’s a little full so please be patient!~

#technoblade x reader #technoblade mcyt #x reader #mcyt imagines #mcyt headcanons #mcyt x reader #c!techno x reader

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hoboal87 · 3 years

Text

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something.

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#pmdailymix666 #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x pregnant!reader #angst #violence #kidnapping #angst with a happy ending

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

#britpop #fanfic #bandimagines #Liam Gallagher x reader #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #Liam Gallagher #oasis #blur band #oasis band #my writing #fluff #angst

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

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Fic: Fixated

A/N: I can’t explain how I am feeling, so I am going to let fic do it instead. This is entirely written without edits, without a read through. Overworked!Scott

Edit: Okay I did a read through. Remaining mistakes are mine

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Virgil is the first to notice. Maybe because he’s Virgil, and possibly because he’s the only one who can call Scott his immediate older brother, so there’s something in their closeness in age, having navigated childhood together almost as equals, that sets his Scott-sense apart from that of his younger siblings.

When Scott was thirteen and Virgil was eleven, Scott was in the eighth grade and had to write a research report on the Wright Brothers, the pioneers of modern aviation. And that was all well and good, because Scott was going to start training for his pilot’s license right when he turned sixteen. The report became not just a chronicle of the historical figures’ lives, but also of flight, of the first airplane itself and the prototypes before it, of physics, and aerodynamics. He researched in a way he never had before because it was a subject he was passionate about.

He obsessed.

Like John but different.

John absorbed the search for knowledge into the fiber of his being, his fingertips always itching to take a deeper dive through archives when he heard a word he didn’t know or a concept he couldn’t explain fully. Research was as much a part of John as music was for Virgil, or swimming was for Gordon. It was a companion he could always revisit later, and so like all of them with hobbies that mattered, John knew how to catalog and save for a better time, and turn the itch aside when he needed to. He knew when to stop.

Scott didn’t. Scott defined the turn of phrase “down the rabbit hole.” Alice caught and enraptured by the not yet known or understood.

When he cared, he obsessed.

That project got finished with an A+, but resulted in anxious shaking that didn’t alleviate until a few days after the grades came back. Scott had lost weight, skipped his extra curriculars, and Virgil hadn’t seen him for two whole weeks while he worked. The younger ones likely didn’t remember.

But Virgil did. And he knew the signs. Forgetting to eat, falling asleep at his computer or on his books, waking up earlier than normal to get a head start to whatever imaginary goals he created for himself that day.

So, the day Virgil notices, it’s because Scott missed lunch. Grandma had made hot wings, which was one of his favorites, so the smell of char in the air would’ve been enough to set his stomach rumbling. With Scott absent when he definitely shouldn’t be, Virgil decides to make him a plate, six hot wings with ranch on the side, and some celery.

He finds Scott at their father’s his work desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, intently scanning the files behind the screen.

“Hey, I brought you lunch.”

No answer.

Virgil steps closer to the desk, sure that once Scott catches him in his periphery, he’d acknowledge his presence. But Scott doesn’t appear to have a periphery when he’s focused like that.

“Scott?” There’s a little room on the desk, so he nudges a few papers to the side and slides the plate down. “Scooter?” He looks tense. He can see knots forming, so he drops a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and –

“FU—”

Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, his hands fly up, catching the side of the plate which clatters, sending ranch and hot sauce all over the floor. Even MAX scurries away with a low beep at the sudden sound, and Virgil flinched in a sudden panic when the dish slipped through his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry! I just meant to help.” Virgil is already kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up what he can with his hands, knowing he needs a wet rag. Maybe a mop.

The little cup that held the ranch slid a ways. Gross.

“Ah. Thanks, Virg,” Scott says. And he means it, Virgil knows that. But he can also see the gears in Scott’s head still working, still thinking about whatever he had been focused on, not quite fully present. “Umm. Do you have this? I’m under a deadline.” He looks at his watch. “Ugh. A rough one. I’d help if I could.”

“No, I got this! Sorry, Scott.” He picks up the dirty hot wings, placing them on a plate for their compost pile. “Is there anything else I can get you instead? These were the last of them.”

But Scott doesn’t answer. He’s already back to his computer.

~*~

Gordon is next.

He may not have the same Scott-sense as Virgil, may not have picked up on it as quickly, but he and Scott both share early morning routines, meeting in the kitchen at 5:00, Scott dressed in a tank and his running shorts, Gordon in his swimsuit, a towel around his shoulders. Coffee is too heavy to start the day, but Scott usually would begin the brew for when they returned (and in case Virgil woke up) while Gordon filled their respective water bottles. Whoever finished first chose the energy boost of choice – sometimes just a snack bar, sometimes a shake. On weekends, it might be oatmeal or toast.

Out by the pool by 5:15. Stretching was important.

Scott began his run. Gordon began his laps. They went about their day. Rinse, repeat.

Occasionally a rescue might come in and affect their sleep cycle just a bit, but Scott and Gordon were both military. If they weren’t rising before the sun, it was too late and they lost half their day already.

So Gordon is next, because Scott doesn’t meet him in the kitchen. He’s not sure he knows how to make smoothies for one – hasn’t in a long time – so he proportions his ingredients for two, fills a second cup for Scott when he wakes, and sticks it in the refrigerator so it will stay cold.

He pushes himself during his exercise. He was long past chasing times, but he still raced himself. Seconds could save a life, and so he exercised for speed, for longevity sometimes. For survival.

It’s a longevity day, so he’s abandons speed for energy conservation, which makes it a long morning.

His muscles are tired and sore when he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge for a drink to boost his electrolytes. He is not in the mood for coffee today, but sees the pot is half full, so someone is up. But it’s not Scott.

Because the smoothie is still in the fridge, untouched.

He tells himself he needs to check in on Scott once he finishes his research down at the dock today. He’s been tracking a pod of dolphins near Mateo and has been needing to collect the latest data captured by his little research vessel.

He’ll catch him later. Figure out what’s going on.

~*~

Then it’s Alan.

Alan admires Scott, has been practically raised by him since Dad disappeared. Scott is everything Alan wants to be… just the John version of him. Take Scott’s courage and bravery, John’s love of space, you get Alan. Eyes on the horizon, but looking beyond it into stratosphere, exosphere, the space between stars itself.

He’s a hell of a pilot. He knows that. He wouldn’t be the pilot of Thunderbird Three otherwise. But a part of him will always seek the approval of his older siblings. He wants to make Scott proud.

Scott hasn’t had the time for him lately. He’s been working on… oh he doesn’t know. They don’t tell him. Something for Tracy Industries.

His final quarter grades have come out, and he aced all his classes. It had been a hard semester and juggling his courses between rescues had been tough. He’d needed to call on his brothers’ expertise a few times.

He knows Scott has his file somewhere in his email, but he likely hasn’t gotten to it yet because he hasn’t said anything to him. It’s been a few days. So Alan pulls up his grades on his datapad and strolls past the center of the lounge over to Scott.

The first time he says Scott’s name, he doesn’t answer.

Nor the second.

The thirdfourthfifth time, because that’s how he called for him, the name running together like that, Scott irritably gives him a low grumble of “What do you want, Alan?” He doesn’t glance up, and the smile falters from Alan’s face.

“Oh, I, uh—” This was silly. It’s not important, really. Scott will get to it eventually. “My grades came through. When you get a chance.”

He grumbles in response. “I’ll look later,” he says. “I need to…”

But he trails off, back to his computer, and Alan still doesn’t know what project stole his brother away.

~*~

John’s the last.

He’s called to check in. He’s definitely connected, but....

Scott is slumped at his desk, and John’s calls are not working.

“Scott!”

No answer. The figure at the desk doesn’t budge. So John opens a channel to the rest of his brothers, his feet already sending him toward the space elevator as he calls out. “I can’t wake Scott!”

#overworked!Scott #Gavii Scribit #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Tracy Family #thunderangst mabe #sorry if this is crap

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c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years

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For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :)

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing.

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?”

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.”

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap.

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!”

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre.

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.”

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better.

“Alright,” Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.”

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall.

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed.

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.”

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car.

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature.

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate.

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.”

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?”

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.”

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.”

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.”

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react.

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!”

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own.

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features.

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.”

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.”

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her.

“At least tell me your name.”

“No.”

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.”

“I don’t recall asking.”

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.”

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand.

“Does that line actually work for you?”

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.”

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.”

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel.

“Goodbye, Cassian.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat.

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.”

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders.

“You again,” Nesta sighs.

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?”

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.”

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way.

“And why would I do that?”

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?”

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.”

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace.

“You forgot something the other day, you know.”

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face.

“You got the book I needed?”

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.”

“Well, I can’t accept it.”

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.”

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back.

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.”

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man.

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin.

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way.

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash.

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers.

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her.

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.”

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.”

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof.

“The Universe strikes again.”

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.”

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes.

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.”

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember.

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.”

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now.

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers.

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.”

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word.

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

#my fic #acotar #nessianweek2021 #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

In his eyes III (Pero Blacksmith AU)

Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Part 3 of short Pero Blacksmith AU series

Part 2 here / Masterlist here under Pero / Part 4 here

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, smut a lot of smut but also soft Pero

Summary: with your father at his brothers, Pero and you grow closer in the first three days he is gone.

Word count: 8.3k (I have split this into two parts because it was so long but also because so many were looking forward to it and I have not been able to edit the rest yet!)

Day one

Two days later your father left for his brothers, leaving early in the morning. He woke you from your sleep before he went, telling you where he had left the keys for the bakery and coins for the market. You decided to stay in bed for a while longer, the room still dark with no sight of the sun yet.

Sleep did not find you again so you decided to start your day while the rest of the world was still in darkness. You got ready as usual, tying a cloth around your hair to keep it back from your face for the day. Although you knew how to run the bakery, believing you could run it in your sleep, you had only done it a few times by yourself and never for more than two days at a time.

As you double and triple checked that you had everything you would need for the day ahead, a short, sharp rap came to the front door. You froze in the middle of the room, not sure who would be calling by so early in the day. As you slowly opened the door, only enough to check who was standing outside, you found Pero.

He had been turned to face away from the door but as he heard the knob twist he had turned his head around. He was dressed in his usual black, well worn work clothes, though his hair a little smoother than usual. The sun was only now making its way over the tree line, giving enough light to make out his face that was still puffy from a nights sleep. He would look soft had it not been for his scar that stood out as usual.

“Pero?” you opened the door wider so to take in his full appearance.

“Your father left this morning, yes?” he asked and you nodded, “would you like me to walk you to work?”

“Walk me to work?” you repeated.

“The mornings are still dark, the path through the forest even darker.”

“Oh,” you cheeks flushed knowing that Pero had thought about you as he woke this morning, deciding to start his day by walking you to the bakery. You tried to force yourself to think that he only did so because he promised your father he would check in on you this week but even this seemed more than was promised, “well, thank you, Pero. I just need to put on my coat.”

Pero nodded and waited by the door as you tied your cloak around your shoulders, warning off the spring mornings that were still carrying a chill. As you stepped out of the door, Pero moved off the step to let you lock it behind you.

The walk to the village was quiet as you followed the narrow path through the forest next to one another. Pero kept his steps in time with yours despite his much longer legs, occasionally causing you to brush up against one another before avoiding each other’s blushing cheeks. The closer you got to the village the more birds woke with the morning sun, their songs providing music for your walk.

The village was still quiet as you entered, only shop owners making their way through the street to open up for the day. Although the blacksmiths was before the bakery on the street, Pero walked with you to the front of your shop.

As you unlocked the door you turned to face him, “thank you, Pero.”

He nodded, rocking on his heels for a moment before opening his mouth, “can I walk you home this evening?”

“Yes, Pero. I would like that very much,” you giggled slightly, turning to walk into the bakers as Pero walked to his work.

Your day went in quickly as you manned both the front and back of the bakers. When the last customer left you finally felt the impact of the day on your body, the balls of your feet painful with each step. You carried the empty trays from the bread into the back of the shop, catching your reflection in the window. Your face had specks of flower across it, standing out against your flushed cheeks, and your hair was slowly coming undone from under the cloth. As you washed the trays to dry overnight you heard the bell from the door and the call of your name from the front of the shop.

“Pero?” you called back, listening to the sound of his footsteps that neared.

“Busy day?” his eyes scanned the room and the trays upon trays that you had washed.

“I forgot how much work it is to man the front and back by myself,” you laughed tiredly, “I am finished now though, I just need to collect today’s coins.”

He nodded and waited as you counted and recounted the coins you took in today, carefully placing them in your bag and placing the bag in your pocket. The walk back to your home was just as quiet as the morning, though this time because both of you were recovering from a long day of work. Your mind wandered to what food was in the kitchen, remembering you had started a stew the night before that you could finish when you got home. As the sight of the cottage came into view your feet stopped walking as you realised you did not want to say goodbye to Pero just yet.

Pero stopped his steps in time with yours, turning and calling your name.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” you shot out your mouth quickly.

He turned to look at the cottage and back down the empty path before his eyes finally landed on yours.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you awaited his answer. His hand reached up to rub over the scruff of hair around his jaw before he nodded and you both restarted your walk to the cottage.

The sun was still high enough in the sky as you unlocked the door, taking off your jacket as you stepped inside. You moved to the kitchen but turned when you did not hear the sound of his footsteps following you.

“Are you not coming in?” you turned to him.

“Your father wont mind?” his eyes looking around the room, settling on anything other than you.

“Would he have asked you to check in on me if so?”

Pero thinks for a moment before realising you were right, closing the door behind him before joining you in the kitchen.

“Can I help?”

“First, you can take off your work clothes,” you point down at his layers covered in soot, “and then I will fetch some water to wash our hands and faces.”

He nodded, stripping himself down to his base tunic as you walked out to the well to gather enough water to fill a basin to clean the day of work off you both. When you came back you quietly washed yourselves before Pero stared the fire for the stew.

“Do you like wine?” you asked as he walked back into the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Wine?” you asked again and he nodded. You poured some into two jugs, enough to drink until dinner was ready.

You reached to lift the pot of stew over to the fire in the sitting room but Pero’s hands stopped you, grunting as he lifted and walked it into the next room.

You followed with the jugs of wine, carrying the bottle under your arm, and sat on the floor in front of the fire at the other side of the table. Once the pot was set above the fire, Pero gave the stew a stir before moving to sit next to you.

“What do you make in the blacksmiths?” you turned to face him.

“A lot. Equipment for the farmers, weapons for the Lord, whatever else the villagers need,” he took a large drink from his mug, his eyes looking into the fire.

“Did you learn how to do this when you sold your sword?”

Pero shook his head, still not turning to face you, “my father was a blacksmith before he passed. He taught me the skills, believing I would take over from him but… there wasn’t enough money to keep my mother and my sister fed. We lived in a small village with not much work so I sold his workshop and began to sell my sword, sending my mother and sister coins until they passed.”

“Oh, Pero. I’m- I’m so sorry,” you looked down at your hands.

“Don’t be,” he turned to face you, “it was long ago now.”

“Nevertheless. My mum passed long ago and I still miss her. It is okay to miss those you love.”

Pero held your gaze for a moment, his eyes searching yours in the light of the fire.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“You can ask me as many questions as you wish, hermosa”

You wanted to ask him what that word meant but it wasn’t the first question on your list.

“You have told me stories of your travels but not one about-” your eyes fell to the scar on his face. “You don’t have to if you do not want to.”

“It is not as interesting as you may think,” he chuckled, “I was young, in my early days of selling my sword. A Lord paid me to seek out the man who shared his wife’s bed while he was away on his travels and I discovered it was the Inn keeper’s son. I went after dark, when the Inn was shut and there was his mother waiting for me. She told me to leave and I did not listen. I tried to make my way into the back to find her son but… she had more bravery than many men I have been on the road with, giving me this and warning me never to go back.”

“Was it sore?”

He nods, his eyes darting down to your lips before back up again, “but nothing I cannot handle,” he smirks.

You reached up, letting your fingers trace over the scar for a moment. Pero leaned into your touch, fighting to keep his eyes open despite the warmth of your skin on his.

“You are a very handsome man, Pero,” the words fell from your mouth before you could stop them.

You watched as his mouth fell open, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought of what to say in response. His mind did not work fast enough, your hand falling back onto your lap before you pushed yourself up to pour two bowls of stew.

You placed both bowls on the table, walking to the kitchen to bring back some bread, butter and cutlery.

The pair of you eat in silence, the stew warming your bodies from the inside. You bit back a smile at the way Pero huddled over his bowl, ripping the bread with his teeth and sending crumbs into his moustache. From days of travel you thought as you took your dinner slower, savouring the taste of the meat and vegetables that your father had left for you.

Once you had finished, Pero took the bowls and pot to wash the dishes in the basin and placing the leftover stew on the stovetop. You placed more wood on the fire, pulling a blanket onto your lap as you leaned against the pillows you brought onto the floor.

Pero joined you soon, sitting by your side. You moved to place the blanket over his lap, the tiredness of your muscles meaning you did not care about leaning into his side slightly.

“Can you tell me about your homeland?”

You felt Pero shift slightly beside you before settling.

“It is beautiful. A lot warmer than here but not as green. Wonderful food, you would like it I think…”

His voice carried on, telling you more and more about his home and you felt your eyes begin to close. You moved your head to rest on his shoulder, making his voice halt of a moment, looking down at your soft face. He noticed how your eyelashes rested on your cheeks and the way your smile didn’t quite disappear even on the edge of sleep. He continued talking until he heard your breathing becoming louder and more even.

He whispered your name, moving his hand to gently shake your thigh.

“You should go to bed,” he stated as you looked up at him, watching you lazily nod against his shoulder.

He helped you to your feet, walking to gather his work clothes left in the kitchen before meeting you by the door again. Neither of you wanted to leave one another’s company just yet but the sun had completely disappeared and the only sound from outside was a lonely owl perched on a branch near by.

“I will walk you to work tomorrow?” he asked and you nodded.

You opened the door, leaning against it as you waited for him to leave. When he walked by you felt your hand reach out for his, taking it in yours for a moment and giving it a squeeze. He gently squeezed back, lifting it to press his lips against the back of your knuckles for a moment before walking out again.

“Pero,” you called after him as he reached the end of the garden, “one more question?”

He laughed and nodded, turning and waiting for you to go on.

“What does hermosa mean?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at the ground before back up at you again. His wide smile covered his whole face, his usual scowl disappearing for a moment, “beautiful.”

You smiled, gripping the door tighter to hold yourself up as he turned to walk away again.

Day two

The next morning Pero showed up your house once again, waiting for you as you finished getting ready for the day. The walk to the village was quiet once more as you bumped shoulders trying to walk next to one another on the path. He walked by your side to the bakery, watching you carefully as you unlocked the shop and stepped inside. He wished you goodbye, agreeing he would be back to walk you home again.

Around half way into the day, the Inn Keeper came in for some bread.

“Good afternoon, what can I help you for today?”

“Just a loaf for myself, please my lovely. How is your father I haven’t seen him in two days?” You laughed quietly at the question, remembering just how village life could be, gossip starting at the smallest of changes.

“He is visiting his brother, my uncle. He will be back in a few days,” you reply as you wrap up her loaf in brown paper.

“Is that why the blacksmith has been walking you to work each morning,” her eyebrow raised as she smirked.

“Yes. My father asked Per- Mr Tovar to check in on me while he was away,” you handed over the bread, avoiding her eyes as your face burned.

“You should bring him to the Inn tonight for some dinner. My son, you know Henry don’t you, went to the fish port the other day and brought back some wonderful catch to sell.”

Your mouth watered at the thought. Being inland meaning you lived off chicken and beef most of the time, fish only coming into the village where someone travelled to the coast. You nodded, telling her you would stop by after you closed the bakers.

All day you thought about the fish that would be at the Inn, whether it would be in a stew or in a pie. The thought of dinner made you work faster than usual, cleaning up and closing the shop faster than Pero managed to close the Blacksmiths. You walked along the street, pulling the cloak around your body as you skipped up his steps.

He was standing over a basin, washing his hands. His apron was already hanging on the wall, showing he was done for the day and so you knocked at the door. He turned to face you and if you didn’t know better you would have backed away from his scowl but noticing the lightness in his eyes you stepped in.

“I was thinking we could go to the Inn tonight, they have fish.”

“Fish?” his eyebrows pulled together at your invitation.

“Yes, fish. You don’t get it often in the village,” you explained.

He nodded, drying his hands on a cloth that hung over a hook on the wall.

“No one will mind that we are going together, without your father?”

“It is a small village Pero, most people have went to the Inn together at some point. It also isn’t a very religious village, I don’t know if you noticed that much,” you laughed, reaching for his own jacket to hand him.

He smirked slightly. He had realised that people were a little more relaxed in this village than others he had passed through before. Unmarried men and women were free to be friendly to one another without any lingering chaperone or words of sin. It put him at ease but caused a weight to grow at the bottom of his stomach as he questioned in what way you looked at him.

He looked at you and saw the sun, moon and stars. He wondered what you saw when you looked at him…

“Pero?” you held the coat towards him. He grabbed it grunting a thank you and nodding at the invite.

You both walked to the Inn, the sounds of conversations already buzzing along the street with people finishing their days of work here. When you opened the door your eyes scanned the room finding one empty table left. You nudged Pero with your elbow, nodding towards the table. He moved by you, placing his hand on your waist as he did so, before leading you through the crowd hand in hand. His hand enveloped yours, making you feel even smaller behind him as you followed in his footsteps to the table.

He pulled out a chair, standing back as you sat down, before moving to sit opposite you. The friendly Inn Keeper came over to the table, her warm smile welcoming you both.

“Good job I kept two fish pies aside. Something to drink?”

“Ale, please,” you smiled back and Pero grunted the same to her.

The Inn buzzed around you, men and women drinking at the end of a long day. When the ales arrived Pero listened as you spoke about your day, nodding when you complained about customers and laughing as you told him of the flour explosion. A few ales later, your pies arrived and you eat in silence. You watched as Pero’s eyes glided around the room, one arm wrapped around his bowl protectively as though he was a man still travelling the road. You smiled at him. He truly did not care what anyone thought of him. While this was true you didn’t know there was one exception to that - you. As his eyes fell back on you he sat a little straighter in his chair, eating slower and savouring the taste.

“What do you think?” you nodded to the near empty plate in front of him.

He grunted, nodding back at your plate.

“I love the fish pie here. I wish I could have it more often.”

As you both finished Pero watched how your eyes were closed over a little more than usual. The ale was obviously hitting you as you giggled at any remark he made. You rested your elbow on the table, leaning your head in your hand as you asked him to tell another story from his travels. Your eyes were shining in the candlelight, the lazy smile as you listened to him stretching your cheeks with every laugh that passed your lips. He could stay and watch you for the rest of the night but as he looked out the window, finding the moon already high in the sky he placed coins on the table and held his arm out to you.

You stood from the table, stumbling slightly as you pushed the chair back but Pero’s arm steadying you. He looked down at you, smiling.

“Drunk?”

“N-no, ‘m not drunk,” you said as you held onto his arm a little tighter while he weaved your bodies through the crowd and out the Inn.

The walk to your home seemed longer than usual as you stumbled through the path, the darkness not helping but you were thankful to have Pero’s arm to hang on to. Around half way through the path he gave up holding you and lifted you into his arms, carrying you all the way into your home.

He could feel you falling asleep in his arms so walked by the sitting room to your bedroom. It was the first time he had seen it, his eyes scanning around the trinkets that covered the shelves before finally landing on the bed. He placed you gently on the bed before moving to light the fire in your room.

You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched him light the fire, tilting your head and taking him in. His back muscles strained as he moved the wood around, the back of his neck visible when he leaned forward to blow on the sparks. When he got the fire going he turned on his heels to face you from his crouched position on the ground.

“You should get ready for bed,” he stated simply, moving to walk out the door.

“Wait, Pero. Will you stay tonight?”

The scowl on his face harshened for a moment as he shook his head, “I- I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Please,” you whispered, “just for company. I- I know what I’m asking, my mind is not that altered by the ale you do not have to worry.”

He thought for a moment, waiting by the door and looking in at you lying on the bed.

“Just for company,” he nodded.

Pero turned on his heels, moving to the well at the back of the house to pour enough water for you both to wash before bed. When he came back you were already sitting on the edge in your night dress. He had seen you plenty times before but never like this. The loose, white dress stopped halfway down your arms, the neckline lower than any he had seen on you before, the hem only just below your knees. He had seen more of plenty other women before but never like you, the soft skin noticeable under the light of the fire. Your hair was now loose too, falling around your face as it should be.

“I- I brought water.”

You both knelt by the fire, slowly washing away the day. Pero noticed as you moved to kneel by the bed, your eyes shut and hands clasped as you mouthed a few words before standing again.

“I did not know you prayed,” he noted before pouring the water out of the window.

“Not always,” you pulled the sheets on the bed back before climbing under them, “I pray at the start of spring for a good harvest, at the start of winter for a kind storm, when people fall sick, and when my father travels.”

He nods, moving to lie on the floor by the bed before you grasp his arm.

“I don’t bite,” you tease, pulling back the sheets for him to join you. He looks at the floor and the space next to you in the bed before sighing.

He removes his outer layers, left with the last layer between him and his skin. You truly notice the muscles in his arms for the first time, hard with years of labour but the skin that covers them soft. He has freckles dotted over them, making you smile as your eyes move down his body. He climbs in next to you, waiting for you to move before he does. You turn to face him and he decides to face you too, looking at your face under the moonlight that streams in through the window.

“You are a very handsome man, Pero,” you say as you let your hands trace his face, running over his strong nose and scar along his eye.

“Kings and Lords are handsome, I am not.”

“Are Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies the only ones who can hold beauty?”

He shakes his head, reaching up to trace over your own face, “I have met many a Queen and Lady, none come close to your beauty.”

“Well, I have never met a King and very few Lords, but you are the most handsome man my eyes have had the luck to fall upon,” you move forward, holding your breath as you press a kiss to his scar, “goodnight, Pero.”

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he pulls you closer to his chest, waiting until he knows you are asleep before he lets himself dream of you.

Day three

You woke the next morning wrapped in Pero’s arms. Your head lay on his chest, the steady rise and fall comforting you as you let your eyes wake to the world. One of his arms lay off the side of the bed while the other held you close against his side.

You lifted your hand to trace circles on the part of his chest that was free at the top of his undershirt. He stirred under you for a moment before his eyes opened and found yours.

“Morning,” you whispered.

He grunted, pulling you tighter against his chest as he stretched out in the bed.

You laughed quietly, noticing how he appeared even grumpier at this time in the morning. You pulled yourself away from his warmth no matter how much your body wanted to cling to it.

Groaning as you stood from the bed, you reached your arms up to stretch out your back. Pero’s eyes trailed up your body for a moment before he forced them away upon seeing the soft skin of your thighs.

Walking towards your small set of drawers, you pulled clothes for the day out before lifting the empty basin from the night before and filling it up. By the time you got ready for the day, setting two bowls of porridge on the table for you and Pero, you walked back to your room to find him sitting on he edge of your bed and playing with his hands.

“I have set some breakfast for us.”

He nodded, following you to the table where you both sat for breakfast.

“Thank you for staying last night, Pero. I- Staying so far away from the village, it’s nice to have the company at night,” you looked down at the bowl in front of you.

“I was worried you would regret it, letting me stay,” his eyebrows pulled together as he searched your face for any sign that you were.

“I don’t, I would never. I like spending time with you, Pero.”

You eyes met for a moment, child-like shy smiles pulling on your lips for a moment before you looked back down to finish the bowls of porridge in front of you.

The walk to work that morning was slightly faster than usual as there was a little more bounce in your step. You even noticed Pero’s usual scowl had been replaced by something lighter. Not quite a smile, no upturn of the lips or relaxing of his eyebrows, but a lightness that was surrounding him.

When you reached the bakers you turned to Pero as usual to say goodbye but this time you stood on your toes, balancing yourself against his arm and placed a kiss to his cheek. You were close enough to notice the pull of his lips before he straightened them again, nodding and turning to walk to his own work.

Everywhere in the village worked a half day today, meaning you did not have to go as long without seeing the handsome man who shared your bed the night before. You both must have had the same thought of finishing work quickly as you met each other between the bakery and blacksmiths.

“Mr Tovar,” you smiled and he laughed back your name.

You spend time enjoying the walk back to your house, looking at all the flowers that were standing straighter in the midday sun. The pollen was dancing in the sunlight that breached the spaces between the tall trees making the whole forest smell like summer.

When you finally reached the garden you collapsed onto the grass, throwing your hands above your head and letting your legs stretch out. For a moment Pero panicked thinking you had tripped until he noticed the calm look on your face.

There was a lazy smile on your lips and your eyes were closed as you enjoyed the feeling of the sun on your face. Your palms were turned up, fingers dancing in the sunlight and you kicked your shoes off for your toes to do the same.

“Are you joining me,” you shielded your eyes with one hand as you opened an eye to look up at Pero.

He tilted his head, taking in the sight before him. He had always thought you were beautiful and light, innocent and happy, but in this moment he was truly in awe of you. Nodding, he lifted his work layers over his head to let his arms feel the sun on them before sitting next to you. He rolled the legs of his trousers up to let his calves feel the warmth too before lying next to you.

For a while, the only sound that filled the air was of the birds singing their spring songs and the nearby river running through the fields. You began to hum under your breath as your head lulled from side to side, feeling the grass tickle your cheeks.

“What is that?” Pero’s voice came from next to you.

You turned to face him, finding he was already looking at you. His face was much more relaxed than usual, not happy or sad but content as he lay in the sun.

“A lullaby my mother used to sing. I don’t remember the words just the tune.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

You both looked back up to the sky, taking in the tall trees above you and brush your hands along the grass. The side of your hand bumps into Pero’s and you jerk it back towards you for a moment before slowly brushing over the grass back towards his hand. You let your pinky rest up against his, waiting to see if he will pull away. When he doesn’t you let your fingers run across the back of his before locking yours and his together. You hold your breath, waiting to see what will happen. He removes his hand and for a moment you regret your action before he turns his palm over, holding your hand and his against one another.

You hear the grass rustle as he turns his head to face you again, his free hand reaching across his body to grasp your chin slightly. As he turns your head to face him, he lets his knuckles drag across your cheek. You close your eyes, feeling the heat from his hands and enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours. When you turn your head even more, pressing your lips against his knuckles he freezes, his eyes wide for a moment as he swallows. His hand stays still as he stares into your eyes before he moves to turn onto his side.

You mirror his movements, now both facing one another and hands still locked together between your bodies. His hand stays on your cheek but moves to cup it gently, holding it in place as he lifts his head closer to yours.

You feel your eyes look down at his lips, soft and parted as they come closer to you. When you look back up to his eyes they are now on your lips before flicking back up to yours.

“Is this okay?” he whispers and you nod.

“Please, Pero. Kiss me,” you sigh.

In a moment his lips are on yours, gentle and slow as they press together. He stays still for a moment, taken aback by just how soft they feel on his before he parts his mouth and kisses you. His kiss is soft, making sure to feel every single movement against him and swallow every last sigh that escapes your mouth. When your free hand reaches up to hold his arm tight he pulls your body closer to his, deepening the kiss.

He takes his hand from yours, breaking the kiss to move your bodies so he was now lying back on the grass and your legs were at either side of his, straddling his waist as your head dipped back down to meet his lips once more.

One of your hands balanced on his chest and the other on the grass next to his head as he kept one of his hands on your cheek, his whole palm taking over the side of your face, and other on your waist, rubbing circles gently into your side. His tongue grazed over your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, your own dancing against his until you were both breathless and dizzy. Pero moved his hand from your waist to cup your other cheek, lifting your head back to take in your face.

“Tell me to stop and I will stop,” he looks into your eyes, making sure he was not overstepping.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. I want you Pero.”

“I need you to tell me what you want,” his eyes moving back to your lips before meeting your eyes again. Pero wanted to feel every inch of you, his cock starting to strain against his trousers at the thought, but he did not want to take more than you were ready to give.

“You, Pero. I want you, if you will have me,” you sighed and leaned down to kiss him again.

You lips moved together in sync, moans falling from your lips before being caught by the other. Pero’s hands moved from your cheeks, gently down your arms and smiling into your kiss when the goosebumps rose in response. They moved down your waist where he gripped at your layers seeking to feel you and they kept moving down to your waist and squeezing before finally finding your thighs and all the way to your ankles, circling your soft skin as they rested at either side of his hips.

When he finally found your skin, he pulled your skirts up slowly, waiting to see if your hands stopped him. His hands finally touched your bare thighs under the skirts, his rough and calloused hands from years of hard labour touching your soft skin, and you moaned into the kiss. A true moan from the back of your throat that you had no control over the minute you felt his hands on you. It was an automatic response like the way your thighs tightened around his waist, rocking slightly to release a pressure that was building inside you.

“Not here,” Pero whispered against your lips, kissing you once on the lips, each cheek and forehead, before lifting your from him and standing, holding his hand out for you to join him.

You followed him quietly as he lead to you the your bedroom, the one he had seen for the first time the night before.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he reached to hold your face gently.

“Trust me, Pero. This is what I want,” you reached your own hands up to hold over his.

He smiled, kissing you once before standing straight.

“We should wash then.”

The both of you stayed quiet as you start the fire and heat the water, taking turns filling the basin in the corner of your room. Once it was full enough and the right temperature you faced on another next to the tub of water, waiting for someone to make the first move.

You turned and looked at Pero over your shoulder, lifting your hair to show the tied ribbon at the back. He walked towards you slowly, attempting to stop his shaking hands as he reached to pull the ribbon loose. When it came undone he slowly pushed it off your shoulder, leaning down to kiss each inch of skin on your shoulder as it was exposed until he reached your underdress. He let it fall to the ground, moving to stand in front of you holding your hand as you step out of the dress.

You reach down, grabbing at the fabric of your underskirt and pulling until it you lift it over your head. With your whole body now on show you suddenly feel shy, your arms wrapping around your body to hide some skin. Pero gently shakes his head as he takes your small wrists in his large hands and brings them down to your side, stepping towards you and holding your face in one of his hands. His eyes look down at your body, making sure to notice every mark and curve that covers your soft skin. He pulls the band that holds your hair back, letting it fall free around your face.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Your hands reach up and grab at the end of the tunic, the only layer that was left along with his trousers after taking off his work layers earlier. He raises his arms as you lift it up over his head. You take your lower lip into your mouth as you look down at his body, tan and muscular but soft around the middle. It is littered in scars, one in particular that catches your eye as it crosses one side of his chest. You trace it with your fingers before stepping forward to kiss it gently. You hear Pero sigh as you do so, not seeing the way his eyes close and face relaxes. No one had ever treated him with as much care and love as you had.

You let your hand run down his body only stopping when you reach the waistband of his trousers. He nods and you move to your knees, gently tugging his trousers down with you. You gasp when his cock springs free from the confines, hard and pressed against his stomach already leaking. You hide your face as you work to untie his boots before taking his trousers off the rest of the way, hoping he doesn’t see the redness that covers your cheeks at the sight.

When you stand back up he holds your chin in his hand, “Have you ever done this before?” You shake your head and try and look down again but his hand stops you. “Do not be embarrassed. We will only do what you want to do.”

Pero steps around you and into the tub, holding your hand in his and letting you join him. It is a small tub and as Pero sits, bringing you to sit between his legs, some of the water sloshes over the side. He holds you close to his chest and lifts the soap, washing it up and down your arms and back before doing his own.

The feel of his skin against yours, soft in parts and rough in others, sends a warmth through your whole body. When his lips finally attach to your neck, placing gentle kisses down it onto your shoulders you can’t stop the moan that leaves your throat. One of his hands rests on your leg running up and down the inside before resting on the crease at the top of your thigh while the other comes up to your chest. He gently squeezes your breast before he catches your nipple between two of his fingers, nipping and twisting until it is hard. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, looking up at him from below his jaw as his hand moves to give the other the same attention.

“Pero, please,” you gasp, not sure what you are whispering.

“Go lie down on the bed,” he leans and captures your lips in his before releasing your nipple from his hand and letting you stand.

The room is now warm from the fire and you dry your body with a towel as you walk towards the bed. You move to lie at the top with your head resting on the pillow as Pero finishes washing himself before also stepping out of the tub and drying himself.

He stands at the end of the bed, taking your body in as it shines under the moonlight. You force your arms down on the bed, making sure not to cover yourself in embarrassment. You trust Pero in this moment, more than you have trusted anyone before.

“Can I make you feel good?” he near-growls as he stalks over your body, crawling up so your eyes were in line with one another. You nod and he shakes his head, “I need to hear you say it for me.”

“Please, Pero. Make me feel good,” you whine and he hungrily claims your lips in his.

He kisses down your jaw and neck, sucking on your collarbone before kissing down your body and resting between your legs. He looks up at you as he spreads your legs open for him, keeping them that way with his shoulders. His eyes stay on yours as he kisses and softly nips at the skin on the inside of your thighs, waiting until you were squirming under him before he moved to lick a stripe up your folds.

Your head falls back against the pillow as he holds you down with one arm draped across your stomach and the other holding your folds open as he licks again and again. His lips finally attach to your clit and he notices the way you gasp, how you whine when he starts slow before panting when he moves faster, eventually finding the rhythm that has you moaning his name like a prayer.

“I want you to look at me,” he lifts his head to speak, waiting until your eyes were back on his before he moved again.

“Please, Pero I- I”

He hummed against you, making your legs shake around his head. There was a warmth building inside you, growing stronger and stronger with every flick of his tongue.

Your hands found their way into his hair, grabbing on to him as he worked. The feeling inside you was stronger than anything you had felt before, like a current running through you from head to toe.

Pero looked up at you, your mouth open and eyes wide as your body tingles with every move he made. Your shoulders were tensed and he sat up, his hand running up and down your stomach for a moment, “relax, my love. I’ve got you, just let yourself go.”

His head dipped back down and you let your shoulders relax, holding his hand that lay across your stomach while your other hand gripped at the sheets. You made yourself keep your gaze on him, watching as his mouth smirked when you moaned a bit louder.

Suddenly the warmth crashed through your body, your back arching off the bed and legs shaking. Pero kept going, working you through your high and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb until your back relaxed back against the bed and your thighs stopped shaking. Your eyes had been squeezed shut and as you opened them you found his eyes on yours, full of a softness as you repeated his name out of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “you did so good. How was that?” His head rested on your thigh as he waited for you to answer.

“Amazing, Pero. I didn’t know I could feel like that,” you sighed making him chuckle.

“I plan to make you feel like that again, if you wish?”

You nodded and he let his fingers trace down your folds, stopping at your entrance. He pressed one inside, watching as your back lifted off the bed once more before settling after a moment. He watched as his finger pushed in and out of you slowly, waiting for you to adjust before he added another. The sound of your moans was like music to his ears as he picked up the pace a little, attaching his lips back to your bundle of nerves.

“You are so beautiful, taste so sweet,” he mumbled against your skin.

The same warmth was flowing through your body again and Pero felt you walls tighten against him. He lifted his head, curling his fingers and coaxing another out of you. Your body tensed, his name falling from your lips once again as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you. His chest swelled as the only word that could fall from your mouth in this moment of sheer bliss was his name.

When you finally relaxed once more he pulled his fingers from you, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. You watched him carefully as he dragged both fingers up your folds again, gathering more wetness.

“Do you wish to taste?”

You nodded and he crawled up your body, placing his fingers in your mouth.

“Sweet isn’t it,” he smirked as you hummed around his fingers. He felt the way your tongue flicked over him, wondering how your mouth would feel around his cock but knowing he could try that another day.

He rested himself over you, a forearm at either side of your head. Your eyes looked down between your bodies, looking at his cock that was now red and dripping.

“I want you, Pero,” you whispered against his lips, tasting yourself on him when they finally collided.

He pulled back, wanting to look you in the eyes as he pushed into you. He shifted his weight onto one forearm, his free hand coming down to line himself at your entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You nodded but upon seeing his mouth open you spoke, “I promise.”

He nodded, pushing in slowly. It took every single bit of strength he had not to fill you completely in this moment but he wanted you to enjoy it and he definitely did not want to hurt you. He waited until you nodded before moving in further each time until he was finally bottomed out. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth as he felt your walls tighten around him.

“Please, Pero. Move,” you begged, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

His hand held tightly onto your hip as he wrapped your legs around his waist, starting with slow deep thrusts. You moans filled the room as he growled with each thrust and you gasped each time he filled you completely. Your body was still so sensitive from the two times you had already cum tonight that you could feel another one nearing and as could Pero.

You looked into his eyes and let the words fall from your mouth.

“I love you, Pero.”

He shook away the tears that were stinging at the corner of his eyes at those words. There was no uncertainty in them, no reason for him to believe that they were only being shared because of the way your bodies were moving against one another. You loved him for who he was.

“I love you,” he whispered back along with your name.

He quickened his pace, swallowing your moans with his mouth. When he felt your body tense around him, holding him in place he kissed down your neck and biting slightly. He pulled out as he spilled his seed over your stomach with a shout of your name, watching the way it glistened on your skin.

Your legs unwrapped from his waist and arms from his back as he sat back on his heels looking down at you. His chest was rising and falling heavily, every scar that covered his chest and face illuminated by the moonlight. He was perfect, every mark telling a story of how he was brought to you. You knew you would make sure to kiss each one when you had the chance but for now you would let him hold you in his arms.

You looked back down to your stomach, gathering his seed on your fingers before bringing it to your lips to taste. Pero groaned at the sight, something so dirty but by someone so innocent. He watched as your body relaxed more, the moon showing the glint in your eyes as you looked up at him. He reached for a cloth, cleaning between your legs and on your stomach before lying next to you and pulling you onto his chest.

He could already feel your breathing slow and he pulled the sheet over your bodies, hugging you closer to him. You fought off sleep for long enough to lift your head and kiss his cheek, on the scar, and lips one last time before sleep.

“I love you, Pero, so much. Thank you,” you whispered against his chest.

“I love you. You have my heart and soul,” he murmured into your hair, letting the tears of love and joy he had held back release as he fell asleep with you in his arms.

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl

Pero tag // @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear @artsymaddie @ajeff855 @strangelittlenobody @elegantduckturtle

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar fic #Pero Tovar #the Great Wall #headcannon

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blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay skznta event, written for @stayndays !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it! ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”.

“Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them.

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock.

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.”

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose.

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date.

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too.

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter.

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it.

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion?

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own?

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it.

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long.

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now.

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch.

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across.

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all.

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.”

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned.

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon. You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door.

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod.

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up.

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days.

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly.

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it.

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly.

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.”

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?”

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.”

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course.

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

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