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wyofabdoms · 3 years

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Undercover I Do - Chapter 11

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: smut, sex with missing memories, "just the tip", Javi being a fucking boy scout, implied cheating.

Word Count: 4287

Notes: Things heat up between you and Javi the morning before you're scheduled to be sent home.

Don't hate me for this chapter, k?!?

Feedback and comments are always appreciated and please let me know if you find any glaring mistakes; I was just trying to get this published since I know some people have been waiting.

Be well!

Read on Ao3

In recent days, mornings had often been hurried and solitary. Since returning home from the hospital (and since your husband had returned to sleeping next to you in your bed) every morning Javi would scramble out of the bed quickly as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, he would bolt from the bed and hurry to dress or rush to the kitchen to make coffee for the two of you before heading to work as though it were a race to get out of the apartment. Many mornings he was gone well before you even cracked your eyes open, his side of the bed cold and empty, leaving behind only the rumpled sheets and the scent of his sleepy warmth on his pillow. On those mornings you often curled yourself over into said pillow and breathed deeply, trying to find a wisp of memory in the familiar scent of your husband’s lingering presence.

This morning was different.

You were surprised to feel the heavy warmth of his arm still curled around your waist when you slipped from sleep. You felt the solid expanse of his bare chest against your back, the weight of his lanky legs tangled up at the knee with your own. His breath was heavy and relaxed; you couldn’t be sure if he was still asleep or not, but the warm tendrils of hot air slid languidly from his lips, through the strands of your hair and down the skin of your neck, leaving soft trails of goosebumps in their path. You lay quietly for a while, reveling in the feel of him, the security of his presence next to you, the rightness of him lying beside you. You watched as the shadows started to lessen along the far wall of the bedroom and the soft angles of early morning sunlight started to dance through the spaces behind the curtains. The soft light and the easy falling away of the shadows seemed to thrum to the rhythm of Javi’s breath; it struck you that the passage of time seemed like it should always only be measured by the breaths taken by the man laying next to you.

How could you love someone so much and still have so many questions about them?

Carefully, slowly, so as not to disturb him, you turned your head to peer over your shoulder at his sleeping form…

...And were greeted by his dark eyes staring back at you. You blinked in surprise at not finding him still fast asleep; he seemed to be wide awake and you wonder how long he’s been looking at you...perhaps for as long as you’d been listening to him breathe? You shift carefully so that you’re facing him, settling your face next to his on his pillow, your noses nearly touching. His eyes travel across every centimeter of your face as though he’s studying every feature, every frown line, every freckle. You have the sudden urge to lift a hand and lightly brush a finger across the tiny crease on his bottom lip. You’re surprised when his lips purse and he places a gentle kiss on your finger. The movement is so chaste and feels almost timid, in an instant you sense the gulf of space that had, up until now separated the two of you, fall away as he presses his lips to the tip of your finger and closes his eyes. You’re reminded again, as last night, of a man of faith closing his eyes during an act of reverence. When his eyes open again, they burn with something dark and hungry. Your breath catches in your chest.

In an instant his body is pressing into yours, caging you back into the pillows. He pauses and hovers above you, searching your face, your eyes. Behind the question you see something you can’t quite identify: Desperation? Sadness? You aren’t sure and you don’t want to think of it all that much. It frightens you, whatever it is.

You reach a hand behind his head and carefully twine your fingers into his dark hair, pulling him carefully down towards you, not wanting to spook him away yet again, but giving him the permission he seemed to be struggling to find. You hear something that sounds like a choked sob from somewhere deep in the back of his throat as he relents and lowers his lips to yours, allowing his weight to settle onto you carefully. You wrap both arms around his neck and sigh at the feel of him on top of you. Opening your mouth to him, you shift your lower body and widen your legs, allowing him to settle himself more intimately against you. He moans roughly into your mouth as his tongue devours yours and you return the moan when you feel him slowly roll his hips against yours, feeling him hard and ready as it presses against you. You feel like crying with relief: he does want you after all.

In an instant, the softness is gone and suddenly everything is urgency and eagerness, and you’re both fumbling to touch, to taste, to grope, to feel the other. His hand slithers along the hem of your sleep shirt and seeks out the soft mounds of your breasts; you arch into his touch as he palms first one, then the other. His lips and tongue leave sloppy kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. His hot breath is next to your ear and you know he’s saying something, but it's in Spanish and is so soft that you’re not sure you’d be able to make it out even if you had understood it. He captures your earlobe between his teeth and then gently surrounds the sensitive skin with his lips, applying soft, deliriously delicious pressure. You are suddenly certain that you will never be able to breathe normally ever again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth planes of his back, his sides, his neck, feeling the muscles and sinews stretch and contract and ripple beneath your touch. His hips have continued to grind into your and they move faster now, you can feel the urgency, the yearning that emanates from every part of him. He’s heavy and thick against the apex of your legs and the ridge of his cock rubs just perfectly along your crease; the wetness that is quickly accumulating there soaking through your thin sleep shorts. Your hands slip down his back and under the hem of his sweatpants. You clutch at the taut muscles of his ass as he continues to grind himself against you and you desperately start to work the offending piece of sleepwear over and off his lean hips, wiggling your own hips to help move the material of your shorts to the side. When both of your bodies are divested enough of their offending pieces of clothing and your skin makes contact, Javi lets out a sharp hiss and pulls his hips away as though he’s been burned. He buries his face in your neck for a moment, panting heavily and pausing his movements altogether.

You hold him there against you like that for several long moments, stroking your fingers through his hair and making soft, unintelligible cooing noises in his ear. You’re afraid to make a move; afraid that he’ll bolt again, that he’ll run away from you once more or, worse yet, that you’ll wake up from this dream and find only the bed empty next to you. You can feel his breathing become more controlled, but you also still feel his heartbeat pounding furiously where his chest is pressed into your midsection. Your desire to feel him move against you again wins out over your fear of him changing his mind and you slip one hand from his hair, trace a path down along his spine with one featherlight caress of a finger before slipping your hand along his hip and gently around and between you. You grasp him in your hand and begin to stroke him carefully, gently, delighting in the gasp that comes from his buried face and then the quiet, desperate growl of the moan he makes as he raises his head, his lips finding yours almost instinctively, the kiss sloppy and ragged, slightly off the mark from your lips but filled with fervor and heat. You realign your mouth onto his and change the strokes of your hand, twisting, stroking, rubbing and feeling him react to every change of direction with a gentle twitch of his cock or a shallow rocking of his hips into yours.

You pull your mouth away just long enough to whisper his name; he immediately captures your lips with his again, seemingly unrelenting in his need to kiss you. You breathe his name again, this time against his mouth and you move your occupied hand towards your center, gently pulling him along with you. You gasp into his open mouth when you feel the tip of him brush against your opening, then graze against the tiny bundle of nerves just above that throbs for more of the same sensation. You tilt your hips just so, and feel the heavy head of him run alongside your folds again. Every single part of him that wasn’t already hard suddenly goes rigid and he freezes, ripping his lips from your mouth and pressing his forehead to yours, his eyes unfocused, his breath coming in shallow gasps like a man drowning.

“Baby.” He gasps.

You rock your hips up again in response, feeling the tiniest, microscopic nudge of his head slide just barely into you, aided by the wetness you could feel pooling there with each passing second. It’s not even enough to count, you think for a split second, grinning at childish jokes about “just the tip” from your less mature years. You were going to make it count, though, and you braced your feet on the mattress to lift your hips upwards even more. But as you do, he pulls his hips back, breaking the sweet contact and wrenching a tiny whine from the back of your throat.

“Corazón,” he chokes out again, this time with slightly more force. He kisses you again, using his weight to press you back down onto the mattress and into the pillows, careful to keep his hips a safe distance away from yours. When he feels you reaching for him again and attempting to guide him into you again, he pulls your hand away, gently but firmly, threading his fingers through yours and pinning the offending hand in the pillow by your head. Lost in the haze of your desire, your other hand immediately begins to travel south on the same mission, and he captures that one in a similar manner. His lips are on yours again for several long, wet moments and he tries to speak for a third time.

“Cariño.” He kisses your cheeks, your neck, your jaw, your nose. He breathes his next words into your temple, his nose buried in your hair. “Corazón….we can’t.” Unable to reach for him with your hands, you jut your hips up towards him, the motion futile and succeeding in doing nothing but increasing the longing between your legs.

“Javi….please….” You can’t keep the high note of desperation out of your voice as you thrust your hips up again, still unable to find the purchase they seek. You squeeze his hands with yours hard and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down closer to where you need him to be. “Please, Javi. Please…” You press your lips against the shell of his ear and breathe your next words into him like a spell. “Please fuck me, Javier.”

You feel more than hear or see his resolve break. One of your hands is released and in the next instant, Javi has himself in his hand, stroking himself carefully as he moves his cock back towards your center. You tangle your free hand back into his hair, nodding frantically as he positions himself against you once more. His mouth is on your breast, gently taking a nipple between his teeth and then dragging his lips up your neck and finding your mouth again as he places his head against your entrance once more. He flicks a calloused thumb through the wet crease and drags it over your clit, eliciting a sharp cry from you that gets lost in his mouth; he uses your wetness on himself to ease his entrance. You feel him brace himself on his forearms on either side of you and build a forward motion to thrust into you with his hips…

...a shrill electronic chirping accompanied with a noisy vibration pierces through the soft, muted quiet that your lovemaking has fostered. You let out a frustrated scream that’s muffled by his lips on yours. You tighten your leg’s grips around his waist and hold him closely to you and rip your mouth from his to hiss into his ear:

“Ignore it.” He nods, and the offending noise ceases, allowing you both to sink back into the moment. He strokes himself once more, twice, three times and then moves again to enter you.

This time you actually scream.

But not because your husband is finally inside of you.

His pager explodes with noise on the bedside table once more, and you can’t hold back the shriek of frustration as you feel him tense up and pull away. You grasp for him frantically, trying to keep him with you in the deliciously sweet moment that you had both been in only moments before. But you can see it already: his eyes are no longer blown wide with lust, no longer hazy with desire and wantonness and abandon. They’re focused and serious, the eyes of Agent Peña, DEA Officer. For a split second, you think you see a flash of horror and realization as he stares down at you. In the next second, the comforting weight of him is gone from on top of you and he’s rolled out of bed, grabbing his pager and hiking his sweatpants back up his hips (and over his painfully erect cock, you can’t help but note) as he reads the message scrolling on the offending device. You hear him swear under his breath and heave a sigh, but he doesn’t turn back to you.

You can’t handle it anymore. You throw your arms over your eyes, trying to hold in the frustrated tears that have already begun to spill over. You can still feel the blunt heaviness of the head of his cock against you, feel the slightest pressure as he began to push himself into you...and then, he just….stopped. That look on his face: like he realized how close he had come to making a huge mistake. And then the speed with which he had vaulted from the bed. You heard him shuffling around for clothes in the closet and you roll so that your back was towards him, trying your damnedest to hold in the sniffles that were already traitorously starting to build and seep out of you along with the tears. The shuffling stops, then you feel the bed sag behind you and you’re suddenly swept up and around, brought to your knees, your arms pulled away from your eyes. You find yourself flush against him, can still feel his thick cock pressing through the jeans he now wears and his skin still hot, his chest bare against you beneath the unbuttoned bright blue shirt he’s donned. He kisses you, another kiss filled with fervor and contradiction. So full of promise and lust, his tongue staking claim of your mouth, a soft groan leaving somewhere deep within him, filling you and shooting all the way to the base of your spine.

You want to push him away. To punch him. To scream at him to stop toying with you like this. But you can’t. All you could do is melt into him, into his kiss. You feel the power behind the kiss; can feel the emotion and the sentiment behind the movement of his lips and the slant of his body against yours as his arms hold you tight against him. But that sentiment didn’t make any sense, doesn’t add up with his denial to make love to you. You knew he had wanted to in that earlier moment. You had seen it in his face: all of the fighting he had been doing against some unnamed, unknown obstacle...it had all been surrendered in an instant.

And then the wall had slammed up again.

But the desperate desire was still there. You could still feel it in his kiss, in his touch.

Why wouldn’t your husband make love to you?

When he had finally broken the kiss, he hadn’t said anything, he had simply held you against him for several more long moments, his forehead against yours, breathing in deeply, seeming to steady himself. Finally, he’d climbed off the bed and as he had finished buttoning his shirt, he’d muttered that he had to go. The page was a tip he needed to follow up on quickly. You’d sat in the middle of the bed, still dazed from the whiplash of emotions, trying to puzzle out what the hell was going on.

He had crouched back onto the bed for a few seconds more, leaning into you and pressing a warm kiss on the top of your head. He had hovered for a few seconds more than necessary, burying his nose in your hair and breathing deeply next to your ear, then spinning on his heel and flying out of the apartment. It had only been a few moments from hearing the door click shut when you heard the sound of the apartment phone ringing in the kitchen. You had thought perhaps it was the office trying to get in touch with Javi in regards to the tip he had been paged about, you knew the urgency that came with those tips and you had raced to grab the receiver, searching for a pad to jot down the info to pass on to him. You were surprised when the call had been for you.

It was Dixon. Her voice was strained and she sounded tired as she requested that you join her at the office as soon as you were able. You had felt something turn in your stomach; you couldn’t put your finger on it, but something told you that whatever this was about was not going to be good. You’d agreed, and Dixon had told you she would send a car to pick you up.

You knew you wouldn’t have long, so you’d hurriedly washed your face and teeth, ran a brush through your hair and threw on something more professional than the shorts and tshirt you had grown accustomed to during these last few weeks off. As you had puttered around in your kitchen, you had caught a foul smell coming from the overfilled trash can in the corner. You had been meaning to take it out for several days and now the rank stench made you regret the numerous times you had put it off. You quickly tied up the garbage bag and hauled it down the stairs and out the building’s back door, kicking it open wide with your leg as you tumbled out into the sunshine.

The trash cans were on the backside of your apartment building at the end of the alleyway. Said alley ran perpendicular with another alley; by the time you reached the communal trash cans, you could see almost all the way around the corner of your apartment building and up the opposite alleyway. You didn’t usually pay much attention to the alleys on previous trash runs, but today, just as you were lifting the lid of a can and chucking the bag up and over the lip into it, you caught a familiar flash of bright blue out of the corner of your eye. You did a double take and the bottom fell out of your stomach.

Javier was leaning with his back against the building, his hands on his hips, eyes closed, listening as a woman with long red hair and a heavily painted face, short skirt and thigh high boots whispered into his ear and trailed kisses down his jaw and neck. One of her hands was threaded through his hair where yours had been less than an hour before. Her other hand disappeared down the front of his jeans and you saw the telltale signs of her stroking your husband’s cock as she pulled his face down to kiss him.

It felt as though you left your body. You saw yourself stumble backwards away from the sight in front of you, knocking over several trash cans in your hurry to leave. You whipped back towards the building door and skipped the stairs entirely, slamming into the building’s front door entrance just as a dark vehicle with embassy plates pulled up to the curb. You dove into the back seat of the car and slammed the door shut, hissing at the driver to get you the fuck out of here, which he did after studying your tear-stained face in the rearview mirror for a moment with curiosity and concern.

Javier had known that it was a mistake to leave her. He should have done what she had said and just ignored his pager. He should have just given in, pressed himself inside of her, split her open and fucked her until he didn’t hurt anymore at the thought of how soon he was going to lose her.

But he knew, deep down, that he would never be able to accomplish that.

But he should have just stayed with her. Stayed with her in bed until Dixon had called. Stayed and held her in his arms, kissed her over and over, whispered her name, breathed in the smell of her skin, her hair, her breath against his ear, filing it all away into his memory.

But, as usual, Javier Peña had chosen his work over anything that made him remotely happy.

And now, here he was, eyes clenched shut against his own disgust with himself. When his informant (...what was her name? Valeria? Valentina?) had arrived, she had grinned like a cat as she had surveyed him, trilling in her agonizingly syrupy voice that it looked like he must be VERY happy to see her and looking pointedly at the still excruciating erection pressing desperately against his jeans. He hadn’t been to visit her in a long time, hadn’t felt the urge to seek solace, or information, from one of the many prostitutes he had kept on a rotating basis for years. Even when he had been tempted the day before, he hadn’t given in; he had seen the flowers across the street as a sign (not that Javier Peña would ever admit to believing in shit like that). But the scent of those plumeria had lured him away from the temptation of the brothel that night and seared his partner’s face in his mind. He had had no problem leaving the brothel unvisited in his rearview mirror and returning home to her, even if he knew it would most likely be the last time.

And then this morning had happened.

And all he wanted right now was to rewind time and make it so that the hand he felt on his cock now was his partner’s. All he wanted was to not be here, listening to this woman chirp some d-level information about a suspected lab in his ear as she pumped him inside his jeans. He hated the cloying scent of the vanilla perfume she was wearing, the jingle of the earrings and bracelets she had on, the feel of her too-long painted nails scrapping the sensitive skin of his dick inside his pants. It was all such a sharp contrast to the sweet smell of HER that he had born witness to only a short time ago. He wanted to be surrounded by the smell of lavender and lemons from her shampoo and the soft undertone of plumeria from the vase next to the nightstand. He wanted to hear only the sound of her soft breath when she sighed with pleasure or breathed his name into the skin of his shoulder like a plea. He wanted it to be her soft hand- slightly calloused from her gun, nails cut short from nervous chewing during stakeouts- to be the hand that was jerking him off right now.

For the first time in his life, Javier Peña felt himself going soft as a willing woman propositioned him.

What the FUCK was wrong with him?!?

He knew the answer to that question.

Before he could admit it to himself, he jolted at the sound of metal clanging further up the alley. His eyes sprang open and he shoved the woman’s hand away from him, staring at the trash cans that rolled and teetered from where they normally stood. He didn’t see anyone else around, but he heard a distant CLAP, like the sound of a door slamming shut. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat and his stomach turned to ice.

He ignored Valeria’s….Valentina’s? Protests and questions as he buttoned himself back up and hurried up the alley of their building, racing up the stairs to her apartment and exploding through the door. It only took him a few moments to realize that she wasn’t there. The sick feeling in his stomach only got worse.

“Fuck!”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javi #narcos #undercover married trope #undercover marriage #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfic

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

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Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 6 of 16

Kinda OOC Gally at the beginning, but I can do what I want, shuck you!

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(not my GIF <3)

You groaned as the dawn of a new day hit you directly in the face. You absolutely hated mornings, and the ever increasing ache in your back from sleeping in the dirt didn’t make things any better. But, you just kept telling yourself that you get out of the Slammer this morning.

You sat up to see Thomas already awake, fiddling with some pieces of grass that managed to grow inside the cell. “Hope you slept better than I did.” You yawned, hearing a couple satisfying cracks when you stretched out.

Thomas chuckled softly. “No, not really.”

You hummed in thought. “That can’t be good, not getting a good sleep, especially since you’re a Runner now.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He huffed.

Minho’s slightly silhouetted figure walking towards the cells caught your attention, and you moved closer to the wooden bars that separated the cells. “Be careful today, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid.” You told Thomas with concern etched onto your face.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, but then nodded once. “I’ll try not to.”

“Y’all look cozy in there.” Minho joked. “Sure you don’t wanna sit this one out?”

“Come on man, get us outta here.” Thomas chuckled.

The cool morning mildew on the grass tickled at your ankles as you hopped out of your cell, the chill giving you goosebumps over your arms. “Good luck out there.” You told the boys.

“What are you, our mother?” Minho sassed, making you roll your eyes.

“We’ll be careful.” Thomas reassured, and you gave him a grateful smile and then giving Minho a sharp glare, which only made him grin.

You watched as the maze doors opened yet again, like clockwork, feeling a clench in your gut as Minho and Thomas ran in. You wished you weren’t such a worrier.

You shook your head, he’s gonna be fine. They both are. But first order of business you made for yourself, you wanted to check in on Alby. Maybe whoever was watching over him a break, if the shank needed it.

Second was to find Chuck, give him that hug that you promised him the night before. You weren’t one to like breaking promises, no matter how tedious it may be. But you could see him at lunch, give him the hug and half your slop that Frypan would serve today.

For all the jokes, you actually enjoyed his cooking, not that you had anything else to compare it to.

Third, you really wanted to sleep in your nice hammock. But since you couldn’t, not until it was the time anyway, you just planned to work just like any other day. Go and build whatever the shuck you were building today.

Heading over to the Med-jacks, you saw a few of your fellow Builders heading over to the Homestead, one of the boys giving you a friendly smile as he passed. Odd, you thought, shouldn’t they be on the way to the Builder’s station? Well, it wasn’t like you were at the moment, so you had no reason to judge you supposed.

You greeted Jeff at the door to Alby’s room. “How is he?” You asked.

Jeff sighed. “Still passed out. Clint’s watching over him right now.”

“Does he need a break or anything?”

Jeff smiled a little. “He just switched out, he’s good to go for a couple hours. Thanks though.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, turning back to exit the building, heading over to the Builder’s area.

You smiled to yourself when you saw Gally, his brow furrowed that signaled that he was intensely focused on whatever he was doing. You still didn’t see any other Builders around. “Hey, Gal.” You greeted.

Gally quickly snapped his head towards you with a smile, subtly standing in front of the work bench that had a couple blueprints scrawled over it. “Sleep well?” He teased, knowing fully well you didn’t.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You responded sarcastically. “So, where is everyone? Do we not have work today or something?”

“Uh, no, we do. Just fixing up some broken flooring in the Homestead.”

“Oh. Well, let’s head on over there then.” You went to start walking over, but Gally stopped you

“No, wait,” Gally stuttered, making you look back at him in slight shock. He never stuttered. “Uh, not us.”

You furrowed your brows with a nervous chuckle. “Why is that?”

“Uh, well, uh,” Gally stuttered a bit more, it was starting to concern you.

“Gal, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said quickly, making you try to stifle another chuckle. He sighed frustratingly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Should you go see Jeff?”

“Yes, I’m fine, really. I just...ah, shuck it, I’m no good at this.” He took a deep breath. “Remember how you said that you wanted your own place to sleep, away from the Homestead?”

It took a bit of memory retrieval, but you remembered. It was around the first week of being in the Glade. “Yeah, I remember. Especially when you said, ‘Oh, the Homestead not good enough for you, princess?’”

Gally cringed at himself. “Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?”

You giggled and nodded. “Sure thing, Captain. So, why do you ask?”

Gally smirked and moved to the side, allowing you to see the messy blueprint that he was blocking, revealing measurements for a rushed looking drawing of some sort of hut.

You gasped and snapped you head to look at Gally’s slightly flustered face. “Gally.” You said in shock.

Gally scratched the back of his neck and turned his focus to the blueprint. “It’s not much, I know. I sorta made a rough draft of a plan last night when you were in the Pit. Only being here for a short time, I figure you probably aren’t used to sleeping in the same building with a bunch of ugly dudes.” He chuckled nervously.

“Gally...”

“Ah, you hate it, don’t you? I just wanted to make up for getting you punished yesterday. I can do something else if-”

“Gally!” You interrupted with a huge grin on your face.

“W-What?”

You shook your head gleefully. Gally flinched when you threw your arms around his neck, paralyzing him in shock. “I love it, Gally. Thank you.” You grinned into his shoulder.

Gally slowly brought his arms around you and leaned into your embrace, sighing in relief that you didn’t just tear up the blueprints in rage. “Good...that’s good.” He whispered breathlessly.

You pulled away from the hug, still wearing a grin on your face, the muscles starting to ache since it’s been a while since you’ve smiled so much. “Are we gonna get to build it today?” You asked while bouncing on the balls of your feet, causing Gally to smile at your childlike excitement.

“Yeah, at least the foundation. It’s kinda why I wanted it to be just us building it, without those other shanks, you know.” He chuckled. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course! Where we building it?”

“I was thinking near the tree line maybe? Near the gardens? It’s quiet there most of the time.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get started then.” You smiled, going over the blueprint to see how the framing would be set up and how long the measurements for how long the planks should be. It was a fairly simple structure, probably only would take a few days to build. Maybe four, if all went well.

You were excited. You’ve always wanted a place for yourself, but always thought yourself selfish for thinking it. It took a lot of self control for you to not do more than just hug Gally however. Just seeing how nervous he was about his plan, since he was usually so confident in everything he does. You’ll be honest, it was super sweet to see.

Gally felt elated after seeing you get so excited about something he made, well, planned to make. If he could’ve made the hut for you overnight, then he would’ve. But he felt so tired after spending a couple hours coming up with a decent blueprint. He was only one guy after all.

Gally didn’t realize he was staring at you sawing a piece of wood until you smiled at him, sweat beading at your forehead. He quickly felt the blood rush to his cheek and tried to focus back on his own task. He hated how flustered only you could make him.

After a couple hours sawing and nailing pieces of boards together to make a wooden foundation, Gally called for a little break just to look it over before moving on.

It was a floorless frame, but you could already imagine what it would be like to sleep alone without a bunch of snoring boys around you.

You looked to Gally to see him already looking at you with a soft smile. “What?” You smiled.

Gally simply shook his head, locking eyes with you before clearing his throat. “Lunch will be soon. We should go wash up.”

You nodded bashfully. “Yeah, Thomas and Minho should be back soon too.”

Gally rolled his eyes at the mention of Thomas, but nodded anyway. “Let’s see what that shank did now.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the comment.

You and Gally stood together at the maze doors with some of the other Gladers, all confused by the loud shifting sounds from inside the Maze. You smiled in relief when you saw the two Runners rounding the corner of the corridor and swiftly entering the Glade. “Well, what the hell’s going on out there?” Newt quickly asked the exhausted boys.

“Yeah, the hell you’ve done now, Thomas?” Gally asked, making you glare at him.

“We found something. A new passage, we think it could be a way out.” Thomas explained.

You quickly jogged to catch up with Thomas. “Are you serious?”

“It’s true.” Minho panted. “We opened a door, something I’ve never seen before. Think it must be where the Grievers go during the day.”

“Whoa, wait.” Chuck said. “What, you’re saying you found the Grievers home? And you want us to go in?”

“Their way in could be our way out, Chuck.” Thomas replied.

“Yeah, or, there could be a dozen Grievers on the other side. The truth is, Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual.” Gally expressed angrily, causing Thomas to quickly confront him.

“Yeah, well, at least I did something, Gally. I mean, what have you done, huh? Aside from hide behind these walls all the time?” Thomas snapped.

“Thomas...” You spoke up, trying to stop the argument.

“Let me tell you something, Greenie, you’ve been here three days, alright? I’ve been here three years-”

“Yeah, you’ve been here three years and you’re still here, Gally!” Thomas interrupted. “Alright, so what does that tell you, man? Maybe you should start doing things a little differently.”

“Thomas!” You snapped, sighing in frustration when they kept arguing, then noticing Teresa walk up to the crowd that surrounded the arguing pair.

“Hey!” Teresa finally interrupted the pair. “It’s Alby. He’s awake.”

“He is?” You asked. She nodded, turning back to the Med-jacks infirmary.

Thankfully, Gally and Thomas stopped bickering for the sake of being there for Alby. You tried not to glare at both the boys, so you just walked behind with Newt. “You alright?” He asked.

You sighed. “Yeah...” You glanced down to his leg. “How about you?” You tried not to mention how obvious his limp was today, knowing it was a touchy subject, but he knew what you were asking anyway.

“Just a bit more sore than usual. That’s all.” Newt weakly smiled.

Gally kept glancing back at you as you all were walking to the infirmary, but you kept your eyes to the ground.

“Has he said anything yet?” You asked Teresa as you entered Alby’s room.

“No.” She sighed.

“Alby.” Newt called out softly, slowly sitting down beside the stoic boy. “Alby, you alright?”

Alby didn’t respond. He just sat there, looking straight forward with tears in his eyes.

Thomas moved passed you to kneel in front of Alby. “Hey, Alby. We might’ve just found a way out of the Maze. You hear me? We could be getting out of here.”

Alby gently shook his head. “We can’t.” He whispered tearfully. “We can’t leave. They won’t let you.”

Thomas glanced back at the group for a moment. “What’re talking about?”

“I remember.”

“What do you remember?” Thomas asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Alby turned to look at Thomas. “You.” He said, making everyone turn to look at the shocked boy. “You were always their favorite, Thomas. Always.”

A commotion from outside caused you to lose on the conversation. What the hell was going on? When the shouting got louder, you ran outside, everyone else quickly following behind.

It was getting dark outside, a bunch of Gladers lighting up torches and running around in a frenzy. “What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked Winston.

“The doors, they aren’t closing.”

You looked to the doors and he was right, they weren’t closing. You and Gally gave each other worried looks, but you quickly followed after Thomas to stand in front of the doors. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t they closing?” You voiced, mostly to yourself, but you never got a response as an ear splitting clank echoed around the Glade.

You all looked in the direction of the noise, behind you, and what you saw was terrifying. Birds flying away in the distance as you all saw another entrance to the Maze opening up, the lack of use making it squeal and grind against the aligned stone pavement.

You didn’t even know there were other entrances, and by the look of everyone else’s faces...they didn’t either. You only noticed Gally moving you closer to him when another piercing clank echoed.

To the right, another entrance opening. Then one more...all four sides of the Maze were open.

“Okay, Chuck, I want you to go to council hall and start barricading the doors.” Thomas said.

“Winston, you go with him.” Newt said.

“Get the others. Tell them to go to the forest, go hide, now!” Gally ordered.

“Teresa, Y/N,” Thomas voiced, “we’re gonna go get Alby, okay?”

You were about to nod in agreement, but Gally grabbed your arm. “No, she’s staying with me.”

You didn’t have time to protest when all of a sudden, a bunch of Gladers to the left started running away screaming. A shrill howl was heard from where you all were standing. You all looked down the entrance to see a Griever, a real live Griever.

“Alright, everybody hide!” Thomas yelled.

“Come on!” Gally yelled, grabbing your hand and quickly forcing you to run with him.

It was the complete opposite direction of Thomas and Teresa, but you couldn’t hesitate or else you’d be Griever food. You just had to trust that they’d be safe, so you followed Gally.

You weren’t used to running for your life, you never had to, not from horrifying monsters. You probably weren’t the best runner, but you did your best to keep up with Gally and the two other Gladers that followed him.

You heard screams all around you, itching so bad to help whoever needed help. You teared up at the thought of your friends dying in pain, but you had to be selfish. You wiped away tears that were blurring your vision. Looking to the left of you, you saw a Glader, who you couldn’t remember the name of, injured, desperately trying to crawl to safety.

“Fuck...” You whispered to yourself, before turning to help the kid.

“Y/N, no!” Gally yelled, briefly stopping before making it to the Box.

You quickly made it to the boy, quickly seeing lacerations all over his body. “Help me...” He said pitifully, blood seeping out of his mouth. You didn’t hesitate as you helped onto his feet, the weight of him quickly slowing you down as he wasn’t that much help.

Gally looked on in panic as you stupidly played hero. His panic only grew more as he saw a Griever spotted you two. “Y/N, you gotta leave him! Now!”

You looked behind you to see a Griever quickly catching up to you and the nameless Glader. You looked to the boy with panicked eyes, seeing that he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

You let out a sob as you dropped the boy to the ground, the Griever quickly finishing the job and gnashing him up with its jagged razor sharp teeth.

You being able to run full speed gave Gally a smidge of relief, but you were so full of guilt that you couldn’t focus on how fast you were running. “Hurry!” Gally’s voice snapped you out of your your own head and you soon ran at full speed, but it was too late.

You yelped as the Griever wrapped its tail around your ankle, tripping you and making you plummet to the ground.

You rolled over to see one of the Griever’s metal legs open up to reveal a syringe, but just in time, you dodged and rolled away, only to be trapped beside another leg. The Griever looked at you, almost tauntingly, before opening up its disgusting mouth, causing its thick drool to pour out of its mouth heavily onto your face.

You couldn’t believe you were about it die by this ugly thing, with the most disgusting thing you’ve ever tasted in your mouth, besides Frypan’s food.

But death never came.

Before the monstrous creature could tear you to shreds, you heard it screech in pain and you felt yourself being harshly pulled out from underneath the Griever. “Gally?”

“You’re so shucking stupid!” Gally huffed, carrying you to the Box in his arms.

You were quickly placed in the arms of another Glader as Gally hopped in the Box and closed the doors, quickly shushing everyone.

You were gently placed down on the floor, and you suddenly noticed the throbbing pain in your leg. You lifted your pant leg up to see blood seeping out of multiple cuts up your lower leg.

After it was quiet for a few minutes, Gally finally exhaled harshly. The only thing your mind focused on was the distant screams of your fellow Gladers. Please be okay, you thought to yourself. “What the hell were you thinking?” Gally scolded, but still aware to keep his voice at a low volume even when he wanted to scream at you.

Knowing that he definitely wasn’t addressing that to the other Gladers, you lifted your gaze up to Gally’s enraged face. “I thought I could help him...” You whispered, looking back down to the floor in guilt and shame.

Gally quickly kneeled down to your level and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You almost died. You almost fucking died. Look at your fucking leg. You’re lucky it was only your leg.”

You harshly pushed Gally’s hand away, making his glare increase if that was even possible. “Well, I’m alive so...”

Gally gave you an incredulous look and stood up to pace around the Box.

Your bottom lip trembled, your face felt sticky. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to get at least some of the Griever’s drool off your face. You cringed when you pulled away the fabric, seeing that it mostly took off the drool. At least it wasn’t on your face anymore.

Gally sighed when he saw you looking over your wounds, his face softening slightly. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if you had been killed...

“Hey, Gally. It sounds like the Grievers are gone.” One of the Gladers said.

Gally leaned up and slightly peaked out the top of the Box. “I see everyone outside. Let’s go.” Gally said.

The same Glader helped you to your feet, you having a slight limp. You reluctantly took Gally’s hand and he pulled you up, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “You okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, testing out the strength of your wounded leg. “Just a flesh wound.” You said, hissing in pain when you put too much pressure on your leg.

Gally’s scowl came back when he saw your pained face. “This is all his fault.” He spat.

You immediately knew who he was talking about. “No, Gal-”

“It’s his fucking fault.” He turned to walk to council hall, leaving you to follow after him with your limp.

Gally stormed up to council hall, quickly finding Thomas in the crowd. It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, and you were close enough to see him ball up fist tightly.

“Gally, no!” You shouted when he pulled is fist back and swiftly collided it with Thomas’ face, him immediately falling to the ground.

A few Gladers quickly started to hold Gally back. “This is all you, Thomas!” He fought. “Look around!”

“Hey, back up, Gally. It’s not Thomas’ fault!” Minho quickly defended.

You felt helpless as you watch the chaos ensure, you didn’t know what to do.

“You heard what Alby said! He’s one of them!”

“One of who?!”

“He’s one of them and they sent him here to destroy everything, and now he has! Look around, Thomas! Look around! This is your fault! Everything has been your fault! You’ve gotten us killed! Y/N almost died because of you!” He ranted.

Thomas quickly looked to you, soon noticing your leg, how your blood was bleeding through your pant leg. Jeff quickly went to you with bandages already out, gently sitting you down on the grass as he tried to help you.

“Maybe he’s right...” You faintly heard Thomas say.

You looked to him in confusion, your eyes widening in panic as he was holding a Griever stringer. “Thomas?”

“Thomas, no!” You screamed as Thomas strung himself. Even if you were injured, you crawled your way to the now convulsing boy, along with everyone else. “Chuck, get the other syringe!” Teresa ordered.

“Thomas, you stupid shank.” You cried.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oof

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally #sweet pandemonium series

103 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #22

Orion Amari x MC

Warning: very small mention of alcohol, blink and you'll miss it

A/N: Another very long one but... you'll see why :D thank you to @kc-needs-coffee and @carewyncromwell for looking over and getting my thoughts straight, love you loads <3

Word Count: ~ 4.900

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 22: Moonglow

The sounds of music and laughter were immediately muffled as the heavy round oak door shut behind her; by the time Lizzie had reached the end of the tunnel, the sound of the party going in the Common Room was barely audible anymore.

She stepped into the dimly lit stone corridor and shivered; the damp air in the dungeons was always more on the cold side, but coming out of the heat of the Common Room, Lizzie’s arms were covered in goosebumps in no time; she wished she had taken the time to put a jacket over the old team jersey she was wearing.

Looking left and right to see in which direction Orion had been going, she could just see him rounding the corner of the path that led up to the Great Hall. She set after him at a light jog, partly to catch up with him but also to drive the cold out of her body.

As Orion heard her footsteps behind him, he turned around; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he realised who had followed him from the bustling party. By the time Lizzie reached him, he was leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Tired of the party already?” he asked after Lizzie came to a halt. He flashed her that crooked smile of his that made it that much harder for her to return to a more steady breathing rhythm.

“Same as you apparently.” Lizzie took a deep breath that forced her heartbeat to return to a more normal pace. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t care much for huge parties with so many people,” he admitted. “I find the attention we get after a successful match often gets too intense. And besides,” he chuckled silently, “McNully was too preoccupied tonight to be good company.”

The image of Murphy’s hands buried in a mane of red locks flashed through Lizzie’s mind. She had to chuckle as well.

“Yeah, his attention may be elsewhere tonight,” she giggled. “So what are you going to do now?”

“The castle is very quiet at night; it’s easier to let your thoughts flow freely in the dark,” he answered. “I’m going to seek respite from the crowd at my favourite place.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “The Quidditch pitch?”

“Second favourite place,” Orion conceded.

He pushed himself off the wall and started climbing the stairs that would take him to the ground level. After a few steps he turned around to her. “Are you coming or not?”

Lizzie felt her lips curl into a smile as she nimbly hopped up the steps as well. It was foolish and reckless, but the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline coursing through her body made her ignore the warnings in her mind for good.

Orion quickly checked to see if no one was around before they crossed the still brightly lit ante room to the Great Hall and continued up the grand staircase that would lead them to the various wings and towers of the castle.

After they had left the Entrance Hall behind, it had grown considerably darker; almost all torches had already been extinguished for the night. Luckily, the light of the moon shining through the windows was bright enough for them to not have any need of their wands.

Neither of them spoke as they wandered past countless statues and paintings, dipping in and out of the silver light illuminating their path. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; both of them were enjoying the other’s company without the need for any words.

The castle looked completely different at night and Lizzie soon lost her sense of direction; she had snuck out after curfew a few times before, mainly when Tonks and Tulip had needed a third pair of hands, but she had never roamed the nightly hallways just for fun.

Orion, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable in the dark; it made her wonder just how often he had sneaked out of bed to explore the school before.

They had entered one of the main corridors again and were waiting for an enchanted staircase to swing their way. After it had arrived, Lizzie set her foot on the lowest step, when Orion’s outstretched arm suddenly blocked her way.

She could immediately see why; a swinging light had appeared at the other side of the landing and was approaching them at an alarming pace.

“Who goes there?” the raspy voice of Argus Filch cut through the darkness. His voice turned triumphant as he could make out their silhouettes in the light of his lantern.

“Ha, Mrs. Norris, now we got them for good!” He drew a deep breath before he yelled, “Hey you, stop! You’re out after curfew, I’ll hang you from the ceiling for this!”

He started towards them as the light in his hand swung back and forth erratically.

“Run!” Orion grabbed Lizzie’s hand as he darted back into the shadows of the corridor they had come from, pulling her behind him. She needed a moment to fall into step with him; she was a lot smaller than Orion and had to take two strides for every one he took.

Lizzie had no idea where they were going; she was just dashing after Orion through hallways, side doors and up several flights of steps. It surprised her how well he knew all the shortcuts and secret passages traversing the castle. They had shaken Filch off quite some time ago, but they only slowed down when they reached the foot of an iron cast spiral staircase.

Her heart hammering against her rib cage, Lizzie collapsed onto the lowest step, gasping for air. Her head had cleared and her already tired legs hurt, her sides burning with stitches from running at full speed.

She looked at Orion, who stood next to her, his forearms resting on the railing as he was trying to catch his breath as well. Their eyes locked for a moment and the rush of adrenaline had them burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

It was only now that Lizzie took in her surroundings; she tilted her head back and watched the staircase ascend into the darkness above, only parts of it illuminated by the moonlight seeping in from the openings in the round walls. She finally knew where Orion had taken her.

“The Astronomy Tower, huh?” she muttered.

Orion inclined his head. “Where better to be one with the universe than directly under the starry sky?” he smiled. “Come on.”

He offered her his hand to pull her up again; Lizzie felt her heartbeat picking up again as he interlaced his fingers with hers while they were climbing the steps leading to the top. She didn’t care if what she was doing was wrong; in this very moment, her hand resting in his felt completely right.

Lizzie could feel her heart beat in time with the sound of their feet of the metal steps. She was walking slightly behind Orion; the tips of his black hair were curled ever so slightly as it had dried in the warm air of the Common Room deep down below them. She watched how it gently swayed with his steps when they passed through one of the moonlit patches; she would have only needed to extend her hand to touch it.

The big, half open room at the top of the tower seemed vast to her as they reached the top. Lizzie had never been up here outside of Astronomy class, where the room was crowded with students and their unwieldy telescopes.

She let go of Orion’s hand as she wandered through the opening in the roof and onto the parapet running around the perimeter of the Astronomy Tower. Professor Sinistra always took great care that no student got too close to the edge, so Lizzie now took the chance to step to the end of the platform. Running her hands along the cold surface of the broad wooden railing, she tilted her head back and took in the dazzling night sky.

The moon was still low enough to not eclipse the myriad of twinkling stars above her; in the cold, clear air of the night, they seemed so close as if she only had to extend her hand to reach them.

“So this is your favourite place in the castle?” she asked as Orion leaned onto the railing beside her, his eyes trailing the firmament as well.

“It is the most peaceful place I know.”

Lizzie could see why; standing at the highest point of the ancient building beneath them, with no one but Orion by her side, the place seemed almost enchanted. She didn’t dare raise her voice to more than a whisper, as if any loud noise might break the spell and wake her up.

A breeze drifted up towards them. It caught in her hair and Lizzie shivered from the cold; she let go of the railing and wrapped her arms around herself. Without a word, Orion shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

Lizzie’s tense muscles immediately relaxed under the fabric still warm from his body heat. He was only wearing a white shirt underneath it himself. Not wanting him to be cold either, Lizzie pulled his coat off her back again.

“It’s alright,” he smiled as she offered it back to him. “I don’t get cold that quickly.”

Relieved she didn’t have to give up her newfound source of warmth, Lizzie slipped it on again. She had to roll up the sleeves several times until they didn’t fall over her hands anymore. As she snuggled deeper into it, her head started spinning at the lovely scent of the heavy fabric, fresh, spicy and woody at the same time. Lizzie recognised it immediately; she had caught it on another of her team members last; it was the missing component of her Amortentia.

“Why does your coat smell like Everett?” she mumbled confused.

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Why would you know how Everett smells?”

Lizzie blushed as she realised how that must have sounded. “Back at the last post-match party,” she explained hurriedly, “I noticed when he got a little bit too close for my liking; he only got hold of me because I got distracted by that scent.”

Orion still looked puzzled. “And why would this particular scent distract you so much?”

“Because I can’t figure out why I know it so well,” she sighed. “I’ve smelled it so many times and but I don’t know where. Only that it has something to do with Quidditch.”

“And what do Everett and my coat smell like?” Lizzie could hear the laughter ringing in his voice at the absurdity of his question.

She turned her head so the collar of the coat came closer to her face and inhaled deeply. “It’s warm,” Lizzie closed her eyes to better concentrate on it, “but fresh at the same time; kind of spicy as well.”

“That would be ginger, cilantro and patchouli, if I’m not mistaken.” Lizzie’s eyes snapped open and she blinked incredulously at the widely grinning Orion next to her. Now that he had named the components she could distinguish them clearly; why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you know?”

His grin turned into a beautiful, warm laugh. “That happens to be what my shower gel smells like.”

Lizzie’s confusion only grew as the heat rose to her face. “But why did Everett smell like your shower gel?”

Orion shrugged. “We share. There’s mostly only one bottle of shower gel around in our dorm, and somehow, it’s always mine.”

Lizzie cocked her head to the side at the notion of so many people sharing something as personal as a scent. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she declared with a giggle. “But why doesn’t Murphy use it then? I’ve never noticed it on him.”

“Murphy got gifted his very own personalised bottle of shower gel and he guards it like a treasure,” Orion chuckled.

She could just imagine who that gift had been from. But even after Orion’s explanation, something was not quite adding up. The way Everett had smelled had merely reminded her of the fragrance of the love potion; something had been missing.

“What’s that other scent then,” she asked more to herself. “It reminds me of a fire going out.”

“Like burning wood?”

Lizzie snapped out of her musings. “Yes.”

“I burn incense while meditating; it helps clearing the mind. No wonder my coat smells like it.” There it was again, that intriguingly crooked smirk playing around his lips as he watched her from the side while resting his forearms on the railing.

Not wanting to stare, Lizzie looked out over the peaceful grounds. Ginger, patchouli, cilantro and incense; just like her Amortentia. A wry smile formed on her lips as she shook her head the tiniest bit.

Out of all people, why did it have to be him?

“Do you know why I like to come here?” he asked suddenly.

She tipped her head back and watched the glittering night sky. “You like stargazing?” she chuckled, her joke a weak attempt to take her mind off the way her chest tightened as she felt Orion’s eyes on her.

“Exactly,” he answered in complete seriousness, however. “The stars have a way of showing you a way to your true self, if you know how to read them.”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the sky. “You’re talking about Astrology.”

Orion nodded in confirmation. “Exactly; it’s the reason I was interested in Divination in the first place. I don’t know much about my past, but the stars taught me more about myself than I would ever have thought possible.”

She laughed lightly as she remembered her own stupid reason for choosing Divination. The night breeze blowing around the top of the tower carried the sound away from her lips and out over the grounds.

“That’s a lot more plausible than what I did.” Orion’s intrigued silence prompting her to go on, she blushed at how flippant she sounded. “I lost a bet with Tonks about who would jump out of the way of a Fanged Frisbee first.”

He laughed along with her, the sound of his voice deep where hers was clear. “You don’t believe in Astrology then?”

She shook her head. “Not really; I know the movement of the planets affect certain magical traits and abilities, but I don’t believe in foresight and omens and all these things.”

Lizzie half-feared to have enticed him into a discussion about the universe and fate, but the corner of his mouth simply quirked up as his eyes dropped to where the neckline of her jersey showed the yellow topaz resting against her skin.

“Why did you never take your necklace off then?”

Her hand went to her throat automatically and covered the pendant. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “I got used to the feel of it, I guess. It comforts me to know it’s there.”

Orion inclined his head. “That’s what birthstones are supposed to do.”

He had started twirling the pendant of his own necklace; Lizzie had rarely seen him without it except when they were playing in House matches. She had never asked why it was so special to him. She reached over to him, gently taking the round stone out of his hands and turned it around between her fingers.

“Is that your birthstone as well?”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “Not mine,” he answered quietly, his voice suddenly tinged with melancholy. “It was my mother’s; it’s one of the only things I still have that once belonged to her. The people in charge at the orphanage where I grew up gave it to me. Although it’s not my own birthstone, its presence comforts me when I feel unsettled; that’s how I came up with the idea for yours.”

Lizzie’s throat tightened at his words; she lightly placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

But Orion shook his head. “Don’t be; all of this happened a long time ago. It made me who I am today and I wouldn’t want to change that.” His gaze swept over the panorama below them; the reflection of the moon glittered on the rippling surface of the Black Lake.

“I don’t need a birthstone to remind me of my strengths, because I know very well who I am,” his voice had reduced to a whisper, moved with the same sadness like before, “although I can’t share my true self with a lot of people.”

Lizzie furrowed her brow; it had never occurred to her that Orion might be afraid to open up. “I’ve never noticed,” she admitted, “to me you are always acting the same. You’re maybe a bit more direct when you’re around friends, but that’s about it.”

“Masking what you want to say behind a lot of words helps you distinguishing between the people who actually care for what you have to say and those who don’t,” he explained.

“Why would you do that?”

“Most people just tune out when they don’t catch on to me,” he explained. “They don’t care to see past my position. To them, I am the eccentric captain of our team and nothing more. They see only what they are expecting to see, so in turn, it is all that I show them. But with you, it’s different; you’re listening to what I have to say. With you, I can be honest.”

Lizzie remained silent; she leaned against the railing, mirroring his position. But contrary to the calm surrounding Orion, she could feel a fist tightening around her heart at his words; she thought about all the lies she had amassed over the course of the last weeks.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s good to dig too deep,” she mused more to herself. “You might not like everything you find out about yourself.”

“Some things remain mysteries to us, that much is true,” Orion’s expression was unreadable as he turned his head and watched her. “You have become one to me as well, although you never were before. I don’t know what you’re running from, but I want you to know that you can always trust me if you need to share your burden.”

Lizzie felt like she would choke on the emotions welling up in her chest. She didn’t deserve an ounce of the trust he placed in her. She knew this was her chance to come clean and tell him everything, that she positively had to. But the words refused to leave her lips.

Instead, she reached out again and covered his hand with hers, her skin tingling as sparks shot up from her fingertips and coursed through her body at the touch.

“I know,” she breathed with a constricted voice.

It was hard to make out his thoughts as he turned his hand around and intertwined his fingers with hers once more. Lizzie hated herself for not withdrawing her hand at this moment, but she had lost control over her actions long ago.

Orion broke her out of her thoughts. “It’s lucky the moon isn’t full tonight, don’t you think?” His eyes were fixed on a particular assortment of stars. “You can actually see every star of the Leo constellation.”

“You can?” Lizzie mumbled, still distracted by her own thoughts.

Orion regarded her with an unreadable expression. “You don’t see it?”

Of course she did; Lizzie was rather good at Astronomy, she found the movements of the planets fascinating. But she shook her head anyway. “No, I don’t.”

“Well then,” he left his spot at the railing and stepped behind her to gain the same perspective. Even through the thick fabric of his coat, Lizzie could sense the heat radiating off his body. She held her breath as his left arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer towards him. She could feel his strong heartbeat against her back and closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again as Orion started speaking, his right arm pointing out the single stars forming the constellation above them.

They stood like this for a while, Lizzie leaning against his chest while he held her close, the back of her head resting in the curve of his neck. He told her of the legend behind the Leo constellation, and how the Gods had raised it to the sky because the lion was deemed the King of Beasts.

She listened to the stories he told her with his warm and quiet voice while her eyes were tracing the familiar patterns of the stars. She knew all these things, but it didn’t matter to her; the only thing that was important was them, standing together on the highest point of the castle in the silver light of the ascending moon.

Her right hand was lying on his arm that held her, her fingers drawing tiny circles on his skin as he told her of the brightest star in the Leo constellation: Regulus, the Heart of the Lion.

“But even though it is the brightest of them all,” he murmured against her hair, “the light of the moon still eclipses it. That’s why we’re lucky the moon isn’t full tonight; on a night light this, you can see straight to the heart.”

He moved his head and Lizzie held her breath as his voice suddenly sounded very close to her ear. “But I believe you know all that very well.”

Shivers ran down her spine as his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her neck and she felt the rough stubble of his cheek against her jawline. Through the rush of emotions, she vaguely remembered that Professor Sprout kept him updated on all of their grades; of course he would know she did well in Astronomy.

Lizzie turned around in his arms to say something but couldn’t think of anything as she saw him smiling at her, his expression so tender that it threatened to take her breath away. Her own face softened as she brought a hand to his face and gently rested it on his cheek. There was no room for doubts anymore; shutting out her mind, she stood on her tip toes and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

Nothing could have prepared her for the explosion of butterflies inside her chest as Orion’s arms wrapped around her and his lips moved against hers. They were a lot softer than she had imagined, a stark contrast to the stubble of his beard slightly pricking her upper lip. The smell of ginger, patchouli and cilantro hanging in his hair was close to intoxicating as she raked her fingers through it.

Everything else was gone, there was nothing left but the feeling of his lips on hers and the weight of his body pushing her against the railing in her back.

They broke apart for air and Lizzie felt her knees growing weak at the wild and raw emotions stirring his dark eyes. His hand found her neck and pulled her in again. Lizzie felt as if she was on fire, every nerve in her body alert to the maximum, as Orion’s hand tangled in her hair while the other rand down her spine. Their kiss grew deeper with every passing second and Orion smirked against her mouth as Lizzie teasingly bit his lower lip.

He pushed her away the slightest bit and was surprised to see the challenge sparkling in her eyes. “Anything wrong, Captain?” she grinned.

He brought his hand to her face, never breaking the eye contact with her. The spark shining in them was answer enough.

As his lips crashed onto hers this time, it was different; it felt as intense as before, but the mood between them had shifted to something else. As he brushed the tip of his tongue over her lips, she gladly parted them for him, completely losing herself in the moment.

She soon found herself pressing her body against him, her hands buried in his black hair, while his fingers dug into the skin of her waist almost painfully. She brought one of her hands behind her and pushed herself up on the broad railing to bring herself to one level with him, allowing Orion to come even closer as she wrapped her legs around his midsection.

They were so caught up in each other, they didn’t notice the steps approaching from behind.

“Excuse me, what are you two doing up here? It’s way past curfew, and get your hands off each other this instant!” a stern voice sounded from the entrance to the parapet.

Lizzie’s inside went icy cold at the familiar voice. She immediately pushed Orion away from her and hopped of the railing, wrapping his coat around her to hide her crumpled state of her shirt.

Rowan’s eyes widened in shock as she recognised whom exactly she had caught making out before shattering into the deepest look of hurt and heartbreak Lizzie had ever seen.

She started shaking her head and backed away a few steps, mouthing soundless words of disbelief, before she turned around and dashed towards the staircase.

Lizzie cursed under her breath and ran after Rowan. When she caught up with her, she reached for Rowan’s arm to make her stop. “Rowan, wait, I can explain- “

“No!” Rowan jerked free off her touch so violently Lizzie staggered backwards. In the light coming from her wand, she could see the tears streaking down her best friend’s face.

“How could you do this to me? I trusted you!” she cried between sobs that pierced Lizzie’s heart like daggers.

“I’m so sorry, Rowan, believe me I, didn’t mean to- “

But Rowan didn’t let her finish. “Of course you did! You have everything you could ever want, but you just couldn’t keep your hands off him!”

She took a step in Lizzie’s direction with such a fury that Lizzie inadvertently moved backwards.

“Charlie Weasley’s not been enough for you, has he?” she sneered, all her disappointment suddenly turning into anger. “It’s not enough you have him eating out of your hand; no, you had to go and get yourself the one guy that was important to me, that I thought liked me, because you can’t stand the thought of me having something that you don’t!”

The colour had drained from Lizzie’s face; not once in her life had she seen Rowan so furious.

“Rowan, you need to calm down,” Orion had come up to them, addressing the livid girl very cautiously, as if trying to soothe a spooked animal. “I’m sure we can clear this misunderstanding together.”

“Misunderstanding?” Rowan barked a humourless laugh that made Lizzie’s skin crawl. “The only misunderstanding here is that I thought you were my friend,” she spat at her. “When in truth, you’re nothing but a liar.”

Orion was looking at her now and she closed her eyes. ‘Please’, she prayed, ‘please, don’t.’

But Rowan carried on. “Did you never wonder why we wanted to study with you in the first place?” she asked Orion but her eyes were boring into Lizzie’s as she spoke. “It was all a ruse and nothing more. She promised me to help me getting to know you better, but that was a lie as well.”

Rowan grit her teeth. “The only truth here is that our dear Lizzie has a taste for Quidditch captains and can’t stand it when all attention isn’t on her.”

With a last scathing look at Lizzie, Rowan turned to leave again. When Lizzie reached for her arm once more, she whipped around and raised her wand.

“Flipendo!”

A bang cut through the quiet of the castle as the jinx hit Lizzie square in the chest, knocking her to the ground and driving her breath from her lungs. The pain itself wasn’t so bad; she remembered the feeling from her many years in the duelling club and Rowan’s defensive charms had never been the strongest. What really cut through her was the knowledge that her best friend had cast a spell to hurt her.

Orion was by her side immediately to check if she was okay, but Lizzie only had eyes for Rowan who stood frozen on the spot, incredulous of what she had done, before a strangled sob escaped her and she fled down the staircase, the clanking sound of her steps growing fainter with every moment.

With a groan, Lizzie came into a sitting position and rubbed at the point where Rowan’s spell had hit her.

Orion’s hand cupped her cheek as he searched her face for any sign of whether she was hurt. “Are you okay?”

Lizzie could only shake her head; his caring touch broke the tension of the situation and she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She turned her head away from his touch and covered her mouth with her hand as they started streaming down her face.

What had she done?

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #if anyone's wondering that's the chapter I wrote drunk #turned out better than I thought it would #I was honestly so scared of this one I can't even tell you #kudos to my husband and his soccer team for educating me on why individual shower gels are totally unnecessary #that's there the idea came from #it's not something stupid I made up mkay

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moonbeamoclock · 3 years

Text

late night (levi ackermanx fem!reader)

a/n: every levi fanfic writer and their mother has a version of this same story so I felt it was my right of passage to write one myself. also please give me any and all feedback because this is my first fic and i want to improve.

trigger warnings: language, shit writing

word count:

1016

y/n’s pov

It’s late and it’s cold but I can’t seem to sleep. I lay there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. I just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard I tried. ‘Some nice warm tea sounds really good right now…..but I don’t know if I want to risk getting in trouble if I get caught.’ I thought to myself. After a moment of heavy contemplation, I decided to just risk it the thought of a warm cup of tea in my hands was too tempting. I slowly and quietly get out of bed as not to wake up Mikasa sleeping in the bed next to me. Slipping on my slippers, I felt goosebumps rise on the skin of my arms causing me to shiver. I reached towards the end of my bed and grabbed my sweater to put on before I slipped out the door into the freezing castle hallway.

The castle is eerily quiet as I pad towards the kitchen; only illuminated by a few scattered torches. I open the door to the kitchen cringing as it screeched loudly not noticing the figure standing over the sink. I let the door close behind me and let out a sigh of relief. It was so much warmer in here than out of the hallway. I shuffled over to the fireplace that was still burning slowly and turned so my back so it could be warmed up. I let out a sigh that quickly turned into a choking gasp as Levi spoke.

“What are you roasting your ass over there?” his voice reverberated through the stone kitchen. He stood with his hands deep in the sink, shirt rolled up to his elbows, and skin covered in suds as he continues to vigorously scrub the dishes.

“Uh--” is the only thing that my brain can seem to come up with as I watch him place the now clean dishes on a towel next to the sink.

“It’s quite late cadet” his voice came again knocking me out of my stupified state. This time as he turned around to look at me expectantly “Is there a reason you’re out of bed?” I suddenly realized that I was out of bed after curfew, standing in the kitchen in my jammies with Captain Levi, and became embarrassed.

He rolled his eyes and opened up one of the many cupboards pulling out a small container. Speaking over his shoulder he asked, “Would you like some tea?” I reluctantly step away from the fireplace over to where he was preparing to brew some plain black tea leaves for himself. “Um no…” I spoke hesitantly. He looked up at me with narrowed eyes, daring me to elaborate on my tone. “I just...don’t like that kind of tea. I think it’s gross.” There was a pause where he tried to process what I had said and after a moment he scrunched up his face in disgust.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? This is good tea,” he argued gruffly

“I never said it wasn’t good tea, I just said I didn’t like it.” I moved around him and opened a different cupboard door. I moved around a couple of different containers and reached into the very back and finally felt my fingers brush the object I was searching for. Pulling it down I glance at him “This is my secret stash of tea.” I smile as I continue “It’s chamomile, it helps you sleep. Would you like to try some Captain?” As my eyes lock onto him I watch as he inspects the container in my hands.

“Yeah okay, just don’t fuck it up I guess,” he mutters pushing the black tea leaves back into the cupboard and turning to sit down at the large table as I got to work making tea for the two of us. We enjoyed the silence as the water was heating for a few minutes before I spoke again:

“Were you also having trouble sleeping, sir?” I took the kettle off the stove and poured the water into the cups I had set out.

“Yes, I was. I always am, cadet, it’s an occupational hazard.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You work really hard and you deserve to be able to sleep after a long day. This tea should help. Drink up.” I set his cup down in front of him and sat down in my own chair to him. I took a moment to study the Captain’s face; the flawless angles of his face were accentuated in the torchlight, his tense shoulders seemed to visibly relax as he swallowed a mouthful of his tea, and lastly, my eyes landed on his grey ones that were highlighted by dark circles underneath. He looks exhausted.

“It’s not bad,” he spoke shaking me out of the starstruck daze I had accidentally fallen into.

“Im glad you like it, you’re welcome to have some whenever you want since you already know where I hide it” I chuckled. He lets out a quiet puff of air and mumbles a quiet “thank you.”

“Of course sir, I hope that it helps you finally get some rest.” I stand finishing off the last bit of my tea and taking his cup with me to the sink.

“Levi,” He said quite loudly. He cleared his throat, and says much quieter almost embarrassed “You can call me Levi when its just us….y/n.”

‘Jesus, was this man blushing right now? That’s so fucking cute.’ “Okay, Levi. Well, I’m already feeling sleepy so I’m going to head to bed and I suggest you do the same.” I take a few steps towards the door before I feel a hand grab ahold of my wrist.

“Thank you for the tea, and for the company.” He quickly dropped my hand as I turned to look him in the eyes. “ Of course si--sorry, Levi.” I left the kitchen quietly and walked back to my room now even more awake from the image of how the Captain looked in the candlelight.

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years

Text

midnight in prague | tom holland

summary: you play MJ in far from home and when filming gets too stressful, you and tom sneak off from set to explore the city of prague at night while also talking about the idea of running away together

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader

word count: 1.9 k

warnings: a bit angsty but mainly fluff, one (1) violent metaphor, language

a/n: i highly recommend listening to the song, it’s absolutely beautiful, sets the mood and inspired this story. used some of the lyrics as dialogue. enjoy!

song/inspo: Canada (ft. Alessia Cara) by Lauv

↳ masterlist

* * *

“That’s a wrap, guys!” The crew cheered weakly, lacking the usual enthusiasm. Not moving from your spot, you meekly pumped your fist in the air in mute joy. To say you were exhausted wasn’t just an understatement, it was a big truck that rammed and then dragged you through the empty streets of Prague. You’ve been up since 9 am and the enormous clock, that had surely become the focal point for everybody, almost signaled three hours after midnight.

Your scene partner was even more drained than you. Tom was barely twitching a limb—only a hollow shell, containing the last remains of his wiped-out energy.

With his head rested on yours, you believed he was dead asleep and lightly poked his side to wake him up. But he only reached out and held your hand in a loose grip, arms dangling between your bodies. “I’m awake,” he murmured, and you were sure he was talking in his sleep.

“Tommy, wake up,” you said gently and wrapped your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a warm hug but he didn't budge, “You’re compressing my brain, Tom.”

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes fluttering open to scan your face but only a second later did he realize that insomnia had caused him to believe your teasing for once. You couldn’t help but pout at the prominent exhaustion on his face. Footsteps on cobblestone and the movement of heavy filming gadgets made up your surroundings but you focused solely on Tom and the guilty look on his face. No words were needed for you to know that he was still sorry for something that he had no control over.

It wasn’t his fault that the weather conditions pushed the night shootings back and it certainly wasn’t his fault that cars were constantly driving over the bridge that you were filming at, forcing you to quickly jump to the side, only to shuffle right back to restart the scene.

But this was Prague and he was Tom. Much like his character, he had thoroughly planned a romantic trip for both of you and after weeks of gushing about it, he was sure he could make it work but something would always come up and push his plans into hopelessness.

At this point, he had accepted his fate but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t sad every time he looked at you and mad every time somebody said “action”. He loved his job and was forever grateful but for fuck’s sake, was it too much to ask for to spend some alone time with his girlfriend?

Just when he was about to open his mouth to apologize to you, you locked his lips with yours and he melted into the kiss, tense shoulders dropping. Releasing his lips with a soft plop, he sighed with a small smile, but his eyes still held sadness. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the others were already walking toward the van to drive back to the hotel to fall into a restless sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let Tom go to bed like this.

Your mind flicked to back home where you had naively envisioned your trip to Europe to be completely different—free and without a care in the world. You knew you were here for work, but you didn’t expect to have this many obligations that added to the constant pressure of having to deliver the perfect scenes. The world was counting on you to not fuck this up.

You sighed and looked down at the river. The water reflected the vibrant yellow streetlights and brought you a sense of much-needed peace and tranquillity. Tom watched you curiously as your eyes marveled at the scenery.

Your head whipped back to him and now you were beaming at him, a glimpse of mischief dancing in your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” Tom blankly stared at you and blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What?”

“I’m saying,” you dragged out and let go of his torso to swing his arms excitedly from side to side, he squeezed your hand, “this is our last night in Prague! We’ve been looking forward to this for the longest time, do you really want to miss it? Come on, we can sleep on the plane tomorrow. Let’s be carefree for once.” Your soul was fueled with sparkling joy and you forgot about your exhaustion. “Let’s be free.”

Tom took a second to contemplate your words before a wide grin broke out on his face and he nodded eagerly, surrendering to bliss. “God, I’m obsessed with your brain sometimes.”

With your hand still in his, you pulled him with you, excitement shimmering. Crossing the Charles Bridge, the two of you slipped away and entered the night you had dreamed of.

Golden lanterns on the side of the houses marked hidden but absolutely breathtaking alleys and for the first time on this trip, it was quiet and serene. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting everywhere, taking it all in with the deepest admiration. It was like you were falling in love with the whole world.

You had a bounce to your step and Tom couldn’t contain his bubbly feelings at the sight of you. He didn’t really understand what switch of yours was suddenly flicked for your spirits to fly this high, but he didn’t need to. He missed spending time with you. Back in the States, both of your schedules were packed and barely allowed a fleeting glimpse but now, the girl of his dreams was buzzing with happiness while the streetlights highlighted her glowing face and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t treasure every moment.

The darkness made the town appear like a secret fairytale village with its colorful houses and narrow passages. Your soft chatter lingered in the warm summer air and every time a giggle left your lips Tom’s heart filled with more love for you, warming him from within. With his adoring gaze, he spun you around. Your dress flying up and you stretched your arms upward, enjoying the carefreeness with a broad smile. You felt like you were floating, feet barely touching the ground as the both of you were dancing to no music.

Drunk with happiness, both of you laughed as Tom pressed your back against a wall. With his hands caressing your hips and your foreheads pressed against each other, your heart throbbed with profound joy, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Adrenaline and happiness consumed you, so much of it that you nearly forgot to breathe but you didn’t need to as Tom’s lips were already on yours. You pushed off the wall, sealing the tiny space between you and he deepened the kiss. Your heart almost broke with joy. Pulling apart, it left you breathless again and you were certain nothing could ever wipe off the stupid grin on your faces.

Arms swinging, the two of you continued your fairytale walk and ended up at the Charles bridge again where you had started off the night. Still high on emotions, Tom pulled you with him as he swung his legs over the rim of the bridge and gestured for you to follow. You didn’t hesitate and sat next to him, legs dangling over the river. You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your small frame as you overlooked the sight in front of you.

Your voice was delicate as you spoke, cautioning into the silence, “I really needed this. It's almost like I've been stuck at home forever.” Tom was playing with strands of your hair and you knew he was deep in thoughts.

Again, you watched the dancing streetlights reflection on the water surface but this time it didn’t bring you peace. You had your night and that was all you wanted. So why did you feel a pinch of sadness at the simple thought of heading to the hotel, settling into your bed and calling it a night. You didn’t want this night to end and you knew Tom also dreaded having to end this feeling.

So the question he asked next wasn’t a surprise to you in the slightest—it resonated with you.

“What if we move to Canada?”

He sounded hopeful. Musing about taking on the world in a different way than you both already did but he knew you two were in no position to be bold and just not give a damn. It was neither in his nor your power to be selfish. A sudden breeze left goosebumps on your exposed skin, but he dreamingly gazed at you with vulnerable eyes and you let yourself dream with him.

“We could bring Tessa,” you voiced, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “And your paintbrush and some candy,” Tom added, and awe transformed your face, eyes lighting up.

“I guess we’re lucky that we don’t need much outside of us, do we?” You chuckled softly and he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. He took your hand in his and started to play with your fingers, eyes looking heavenward. For the first time tonight, you noticed the endless stars sparkling from above.

“You know, when we film those movies...” He licked his lips and your gaze darted to his hesitant face. You weren’t sure if tears were brimming his eyes or if they reflected the deep water but they were glistening and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there. “...When they talk about those people in the movies who up and leave, I always think about how that could be us.”

He looked down at you, hands tightening around yours and now you were sure those were tears shimmering in his eyes. “That could be you and me.”

You didn’t answer and he didn’t need you to.

Both of you knew this wasn’t the heat of the moment talking. ‘Let’s get away from here and do our own thing’ wasn’t an option for any of you. Your thing was acting, you loved it from the bottom of your heart, and you wouldn’t be completed without that passion in your life and Tom—Tom was Spider-Man. Arguably one of the most recognizable cinematic characters in the world. Besides the fact that he couldn’t just quit, he didn’t want to either.

This was the life that you both chose. Unforgettable memories, unconditional support and overwhelming opportunities. There were also hours of press tours, draining interviews and nerve-wracking red carpets.

Your heart rate picked up at the single thought of it all but if tonight had taught you anything, it had taught you something deeply beautiful. Amid the chaos and pressure, amid the glamour and blessings, all you needed in the end was Tom by your side. He was the reason why you soared your highest heights and he was your support system when you plunged to the deepest depths. Gratitude flowed through you.

Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting it linger for a moment before you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck—brown eyes never leaving you. He returned the gesture by leaving a gentle kiss on top of your head, before resting his own on yours, pressing you closer into his body with a content sigh.

We are lucky that we don't need much outside of us.

* * *

wrote this at 5 am so it might be extra cheesy but i’m still too sleep-deprived to tell lol. i appreciate the hell out of feedback so feel free to leave me some and if you don’t, that’s okay too. thank u for reading, buh-bye! x

masterlist

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #actress!reader #tom holland x actress #tom holland x yn #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader fluff

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chocolatemin · 3 years

Text

word count: 8.51k

contains: fantasy, fluff, angst, crack, psychological issues, violent themes and mentions of explosives, implied fem!reader, mention and description of food, cursing

note: yaaaay! I'm back with another fic for Halloween Special, the story was mainly inspired by none other than my favorite Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland and the word ‘horologe’! I had so much fun writing and this is my longest one yet, about the pairing-- it’s a secret! You’ll find out along the way ;) I hope you enjoy reading! <33

「1st Strike.」

You sat on the bottom of the tree, feeling the texture of the paper on your fingertips as you flipped through the pages of the book you are reading. Horologium, it has been stuck in your bookshelf for years. You always tell yourself to read it after finishing a book but somehow, you always end up forgetting it. The book’s cover has always been intriguing to you, it was simple and pleasing, yet it has a vibe that you cannot determine. You read one of the passage aloud:

“By the time the clock strikes twelve,

Thou shall hear the sound of bells,

Make sure to bid thy farewell,

Or the day shall repeat its spell.”

“What?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, under the passage was a picture of a pocket watch that is oddly familiar to you. You shrugged off the thought and closed the book, ready to head home. It was still early, around 10 o’clock, and the tree created a perfect shade for you to read your book peacefully at, however you have still errands to do.

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” Your ears perked upon hearing a tiny voice not too far from your spot. Huh? You got up from your seat and dusted off your clothes. You carefully made your way towards the source of the voice and tried your best not to create loud sounds as you stepped on the fallen dried leaves on the ground. Quietly peeking from the leaves, you saw a talking squirrel in a suit, running for its dear life. Wait, a squirrel? You must be mistaken. You blinked your eyes a few times but nothing has changed, there really is a talking squirrel in a suit running. Letting the curiosity get the best of you, you quickly followed the squirrel. It seems to be too caught up in being ‘late’ that it didn’t notice you following it.

“Goodness, I’m late!” The squirrel groaned once more before ducking safely under a log. You were almost there when you felt something slipped out from your pocket halting you to a stop. You looked behind you and saw your pocket watch lying on the ground. You immediately picked it up, examining if there are scratches or broken parts and thankfully, there is no damage or else your mother is going to get mad. And when she gets mad, all hell breaks loose.

“Oi, Felix! Whatcha doin’ mate?” You saw a blonde guy approaching another blondie while grinning widely. He has such a nice jaw and cute dimples. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off his well-toned muscles.

“Look at this egg!” The taller blondie, which you assumed as ‘Felix’, flashed a cute smile, extending his arm towards the shorter one, holding out an egg, “isn’t it cool!”

“What’s so cool about it?” The blonde guy which you didn’t know the name looks at Felix quizzically. Felix’ reaction was a mix of shock and disgust causing a giggle to escape your lips. You instantly covered your mouth but they already turned their heads to you, “A friend!” Felix yelled before they practically ran over to you.

“Hi! My name’s Felix!” Felix asked, holding his hand out to you, “What’s yours?” You were skeptical about shaking his hand but you didn’t want to come off as rude and impolite so you hesitantly took his hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“That’s such a pretty name!” The shorter blonde spoke, “I’m Chan, and we’re brothers. Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand to you for a handshake which you still took skeptically, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just passing by.” You hid your hands behind your back.

“Do you wanna hear a great story?” Felix chirped with excitement.

“Maybe next time? I still have to go somewhere.” You glanced at your right, where the squirrel headed off, taking a few steps away from them and you could see the dejection in their eyes.

“Wait! Aren’t you curious about the sunset and sunrise?” Chan asked and in which you firmly answered, “No, not at all.”

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Felix followed, wiggling his brows simultaneously.

“Yes.”

“Are you really not going to listen to it?” Chan pouted, giving you his ‘puppy’ eyes. Well, you think it is cute but your curiosity about the squirrel is killing you. You shook your head, “Not a chance.”

“You’re not really going to give it a chance?” Felix clasped his hands in front of his chest and pouted, causing your heart to flutter and become annoyed at the same time. When are they going to stop?

“You’re annoying! Fine. Let me hear about it.” You grunted and you saw them jump in excitement, “Ha! Told ya, you are curious!” Felix cooed.

“I am not. Now, kindly get to the story so you can stop bugging me about it.”

Chan began the story, “The sun is afraid of the dark so it hides during night time.” He created gestures as he continued, “The sun is known to be the warrior of the day, so the Sun cannot afford to lose its reputation by simply being scared of the dark.” Felix continued, “This is where the Moon enters, the Moon cannot stand the day because it was too blinding for him. So, they made an agreement. The Moon shall hide during the day and reign on its glory at night.”

Chan followed, “The sun shall rise and dawn upon the day, but they shouldn’t tell anyone their little secret. They made an alliance, tricking everyone that they both ‘rule’. And so the night came, the Sun immediately hid under the mountain while the Moon glimmered at night. And then, the morning came…” Chan nudged Felix’ side, signaling him to resume the story in which Felix nodded, “And the sun yeeted the moon.”

“No, Felix! The story is not supposed to end that way!�� Chan ruffled his hair a little aggressive, placing his hands on the sides of his waist. You watched the two bicker over the ending of the story until you heard the ringing of bells. Your eyes widened as the color of the surroundings started turning into different arrays of color. You felt dizzy and your vision started to swirl. The squirrel! I totally forgot about it, thanks to these two. You feel yourself falling but all you can see is darkness and you’re definitely terrified. You feel your chest tightening along with a lump in your throat while you become lightheaded. Panic washed your body as you experience two of your worst fears– not being able to see and falling from heights. But before you completely pass out you grabbed your watch from your pocket and saw its hands glow as it pointed on 12.

「2nd Strike.」

“Wait! Aren’t you curious about the sunset and sunrise?” Chan asked. You were confused, mouth hanging open upon the happening. What did just happen?

“Didn’t you ask me that earlier?” You tilted your head, looking at him with confusion.

“No, I didn’t.” Chan gave you a puzzled look.

“Really?” They both nod at the same time, you were disoriented by the happenings. First, you met these two earlier and you agreed to listen to their story, second, your sight turned into an unfamiliar vision before free-falling at a void of darkness, and third, you were suddenly back with Chan and Felix. The squirrel! You glanced to your right and saw the footprints left by the animal in a hurry, “but I have to go somewhere.”

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Felix wiggled his brows, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes, and if you would excuse me, I’ve got something to do. Goodbye.” You waved your hands before running off to the direction where the squirrel headed at. You hear their shouts of disapproval but you disregarded it. You already knew the ending anyway, right?

You hurriedly tried to follow the footsteps but it only led you to a wooden gate. You peeked on the hole to see two tall men wearing extravagant clothes arguing over something you couldn’t quite figure out. What you didn’t expect is for the gate to swing open by itself, revealing your dumbfounded self.

“A guest!” The brown-haired lad clapped his hands, gesturing you to step inside in which you were compelled to, "Welcome to the party. Please enjoy yourself.” He flashed you a captivating smile.

“Hyunjin, what a shame to our guest, tell the chipmunk to hurry up!” The brown-haired lad smacked Hyunjin’s arm to get his attention from dancing on his own. Hyunjin nodded upon the order, taking the bell on the long table, shaking it violently and you covered your ears using your hands. What’s wrong with this guy?! However, your annoyance was cut short by the clanking of porcelain and plates coming from the back door.

“Squirrel!” You almost yelled and the two turned their heads to you. You notice how perfect their faces were, the taller– Hyunjin has a mole under his eye that highlights his pretty eyes and thick brows, he has a pointed nose and full lips. You haven’t seen anyone as pretty as him, heck, he’s even prettier than your sister. While the other lad, which you still didn’t know the name of, looks a lot mature and more masculine than Hyunjin, he was charismatic, his eyes are something, so are his lips.

“Do you have any problem, Miss...” Hyunjin eyed you a bit harshly, causing goosebumps to form on your arms and you decided not to give your true name.

“Alex. No, I just didn’t expect a squirrel out of all to bring the tray.” You feigned innocence, smiling to him and he returned the smile with a hint of mischief.

“Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself, you can call me Minho.” The brown-haired lad removed his hat and bowed, offering you a blue rose. As you picked up the rose from his hand, you felt your heart skip a beat. You faintly smiled at his courteousness but you were interrupted by no other than, Hyunjin.

“Miss Alice, I think you should join us dance. A party is not complete without dancing!” Hyunjin dragged you towards a spot near the end of the long table, he then walked over to the table, taking a teaspoon and tapped the teacup three times, “Music, please!”

A loud booming sound of a trumpet was followed by the strumming of harp, accompanied by percussion and stringed instruments, and it rather sounded obnoxious to your ears. Looking around, you couldn’t find the source of the music, you were flustered. How the heck is that even possible? There wasn’t even a record player to begin with. You stood awkwardly watching Minho and Hyunjin dance rather crazily than dancing according to the music. Minho noticed you and spoke, “You should dance with us!”

You shook your head, “No, I cannot dance, besides, I have somewhere else to go.” You stepped back.

“Then have a bite first, a party isn’t a party without sweets!” Hyunjin shoved a saucer to you with a slice of red velvet cake with mint chocolate frosting topped with blueberries. You almost puked just by looking at the bizarre combination of flavors, it didn’t even look pleasing to your eyes.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You forced a smile and returned the saucer on the table. When you looked back at Hyunjin, his brows were knitted and he was glaring at you, shivers ran down your spine and you were frozen at your spot. His pretty face is now contorted with anger and disappointment.

“Your behavior is so ugh!” Hyunjin raged, making Minho stop from dancing. Hyunjin grabbed something from his pocket that looked like a bath bomb, you don’t know whether to feel frightened or laughing because it didn’t seem harmful. But you felt your insides turn upside down as soon as you heard Minho’s celebration, “Bomb fight!”

In a blink of an eye, Minho was already holding many bombs. Fuck, they are out of their minds! Your adrenaline came rushing and before you can even think, your body was already making its way out of the place. You heard Hyunjin and Minho’s steps and explosions from behind, you glanced to your back and saw the squirrel come out running from the mixture of colored smokes. You realized that it that the bombs weren’t catastrophic but it still scared you. As much as you wanted to get away from the two, you can’t help but feel bad for the squirrel so you turned your heels and rushed to it. You frantically grabbed the squirrel and carried it. Albeit getting farther from the two, you didn’t notice the bomb coming at your direction. You were shaking as soon as you saw the bomb drop in front of you, and as an instinct, you ran back to the opposite side inspite of the colored smoke blocking your sight. You felt the ground shake from the explosion near you, making you lose your balance and your body collided with a softer surface.

Upon hearing that the explosions stopped, you pushed yourself up and saw an unconscious man lying under you.

“What the hell!” You stumbled backwards, garnering the attention of the man, he looked young though. His black hair is parted in the middle that flaunts his attractive face and his cheeks sort of resembled a squirrel’s. He appeared like a prince because of the tuxedo he was wearing.

“Wow… you were gorgeous.” Your eyes widened and you shut your mouth from embarrassment. You heard him scoff as he helped himself to a sitting position.

“What do you mean ‘were’? I am always gorgeous!” He rolled his eyes at you and you can’t help but to feel irritated from his cockiness. You stood up huffing as you removed the dust and dirt from your clothes.

“By the way, have you seen a squirrel?” You fanned your hands, trying to push away the smoke that causes you suffocation. The man behind you erupted in laughter and he looked at you in a judging manner. You could feel your irritation growing, you wanted no other than to slap that arrogant smirk off his face. “Did I say anything funny?”

“I didn’t expect you to be this dumb.” He made a straight face.

“Pardon?” You glared at him, clearly offended.

“I am the squirrel, dumbass!”

“But you look.. human...” It sounded more of a question than a statement.

“You know what, nevermind.” He shook his head, “Where are you going anyway? Maybe I can help you.”

You fought the urge to leave a sarcastic comment to avoid an argument. But where were you heading off to? You were just following him. “I was lost, I wanted to find my way out of here.”

“Are you not from here?”

“No… I am from Alium Orbis.” You fidgeted as you gazed down at your worn out pair of shoes. It really wasn’t your intention to travel to a different place, you only wanted to know what the squirrel was late for.

“I’ve never heard of it, but we can inquire at the palace.” He flashed you an apologetic smile and you nod.

The skies were already painted with hues of orange and pink yet you were still out in the woods, the route you were taking is the safest yet longest, according to the man beside you. You have learned that his name is Jisung and he was working at Minho and Hyunjin’s sometimes and he was quite used to the two’s antics. He also works for the king, he said that the king had a terrible anger so he works there as one of the palace’s repairmen. You also learned that he wasn’t cocky, he’s just very good at ‘teasing’ people. He joked a lot from time to time and you realized that hanging around with him was fun and never boring.

“Hey, Jisung.” You broke the silence that engulfed the atmosphere as you walked through the dark forest.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t eaten since noon, and I’m…” You shyly admitted since you cannot hold in the hunger, your stomach is churning and aching at the same time. You fished out your pocket watch and the timepiece says 8:27. Thankfully, there were lamp posts along the way so you could still see clearly despite the darkness.

“Right, my house is just a few minute walk from this place, can you still wait a bit longer?” Jisung scratched his nape.

“Yes, but my legs are getting weak so you’ve got to carry me when I cannot walk anymore.” You joked, trying to lift up the mood but Jisung stopped in front of you.

“Hop on.” Jisung crouched, his back facing you.

“Wait– no, I was just joking.” You laughed but your feet and legs are already sore.

“I said hop on.” Jisung impatiently argued, turning his head to you. You gulped nervously and obeyed. You can feel the erratic beating of your heart as Jisung carried you on his back on the way to his house. Your cheeks are flushed from another embarrassment with him.

“Jisung, I think I can walk now,” you stuttered, “my legs are now okay.”

“Nah, we’re already here.” You tore your gaze from his back and saw a small but cozy house, “Wait a moment, hold tighter.” You were about to argue but Jisung cut you off. He removed his right hand from supporting your other thigh as he slipped his hand inside his pocket to get the key and opened the door for the both of you. Your heart skipped a beat from his act.

“Jisung put me down.” You declared earning a chuckle from him before muttering ‘alright’, “Thanks, by the way,” you shy away from his gaze.

“You’re probably exhausted from all the running and walking, you can grab a pair from the clothesline and change in the bathroom,” Jisung pointed towards the door at the kitchen back door, “The bathroom is upstairs, the last door at the left.”

You whispered ‘thank you’ before heading to grab a pair of his clothes and go to the bathroom. As you cleaned up and changed into comfortable clothes, you pondered on how you got in this mysterious place. You heard the clanking of plates and pots from the kitchen as you washed your clothes and you couldn’t help the weird feeling in your chest.

Damn, Jisung has it all.

Not only was he funny, kind-hearted and gentleman, he also knew how to do all the domestic chores and it was a bonus that he’s awfully attractive. You felt the blush creeping up to your cheeks so you immediately shook off the idea. This isn’t right. You thought to yourself. It didn’t take you long enough to finish rinsing you clothes and you soon left the bathroom. You went to the kitchen and you were welcomed by the smell of food and of course, Jisung in an apron.

“Hey, Jisung.” Jisung jumped from your voice.

“You startled me!” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically, “You’re done?”

You nodded, “Can I hang my clothes outside?”

“Of course, but better hurry up. I’m almost done.”

The dinner was scrumptious and you savored the food with delight. You didn’t imagine that Jisung was a great chef. You’ve exchanged stories and personal experiences, just like friends in the get-to-know stage. He talked a lot and made you laugh countless times. You offered to wash the dishes as an act of returning the favor, he didn’t even oppose, you saw how his eyes lit up and you couldn’t help but laugh at how happy he looked.

Gazing through the telescope, “Look at the constellation! It looks like a pendulum!” You stood up and ushered Jisung to switch seats so that he could see it too. You sat beside each other at his mini observatory next to his room. It’s been an hour since you two started stargazing and you were having the time of your lives. It’s been a while since Jisung had a companion and it surely made him all giddy inside, but it wasn’t just the thought of having a companion that makes his heart flutter. It was you and he didn’t know why.

“Y/N, I think I might be falling in love with you.” You were taken aback by Jisung’s confession out of the blue. Long silence filled the atmosphere.

“But it hasn’t even been a day since we met.” You whipped your head to face him and you swore, there’s something in his eyes.

“I know, sounds absurd, right?” Jisung shook his head, you’re right, but who are you to tell him his own feelings, “Y/N…”

Jisung stared at your eyes, so do you, you could see that he was trying to see the deep side of you, trying to figure out the puzzle in you. It was funny how you only met him today yet you felt nostalgic. You stiffened the moment Jisung started closing the gap between the two of you, his eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips and a turmoil started boiling inside your chest. Jisung’s lips were only an inch far from yours when you felt dizzy again along with the ringing of bells in your ears. Your vision swirled and you were transported again in the void of darkness, falling. However, this time, there were faces of the clock in different sizes, all glowing as the hands pointed at twelve. You sighed in relief. Thank goodness, that was close.

「3rd Strike.」

You adjusted the telescope to find another constellation and you did. This time it looked like a pendulum, you wanted to show it to Jisung but knew fully well what could happen next, “Jisung, I’m getting sleepy. I think I should go to bed now.” You tried your best not to sound too awkward but failed.

“Yeah, sure.” Jisung got up from his seat, offered his hand to help you stand up and he led you to the room you’ll be staying in for the night.

“Thanks, Jisung,” You stepped inside then turned to face him, “good night.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

“Good night, Y/N.” You waited for him to leave before closing the door behind his back.

You turned off the light and walked over to the bed, it wasn’t very dark since the moonlight illuminated the room just right. You thought that maybe this “12 o’clock” thingy doesn’t seem bad at all. In fact, it saved you two times, but if you were to be given a chance to go back in time, that would be before he was gone. You also felt guilty for Jisung for an unknown reason. You have to put up an act tomorrow and pretend that nothing happened, well nothing did happen, but what almost did.

You woke up the next day feeling energized and ready to head home. Just like last night, Jisung cooked the meal while you washed the dishes since that was the only thing you could do for him in return, for now. You washed the clothes you wore last night and hung it outside, fortunately, your clothes dried up overnight. It was around 9 o'clock when the two of you left his house. On your journey, you noticed how Jisung seemed a bit off and you had a clue why. He still joked a lot and told you some of his embarrassing moments while working at the palace. You shared how your mother always scolded you whenever you did your antics. How you miss your home.

“Jisung, did you hear that?” You moved closer to Jisung as you whispered.

“You heard it too?” You nod at him and the growling sound became louder. You tugged the hem of his shirt as a signal to stop walking. Your eyes darted to your left, observing your surroundings while Jisung kept his eyes on the right side of the route, “Hey, Y/N. Continue walking but stay as close to me as possible.” He whispered in your ear as he pulled you to his side. You continued on your tracks and pretended as if you didn't hear the loud growling behind you.

“Y/N, on the count of three, you hide there.” Jisung eyed the bush near the oak, “walk faster this time.”

“Got it.”

Jisung mumbled, “One, two,” taking a deep breath, “three!” He pushed you away from him before transforming into a squirrel. You followed his instructions and hid behind the bush, as you peeked, you saw a chimera facing Jisung in his squirrel form.

“What the fuck, Jisung?” You cursed under your breath, you could see that if he tries to fight, he would be no match for Chimera’s size and abilities, but Jisung is smart and full of tactics– something that Chimera lacks. You trusted Jisung whatever his plan may be.

“If I don’t come back within an hour, you go first, the town is straight ahead. Look for the blacksmith and wait for me there. When he asks you why, just say “Jisung’s”.” Jisung was rapping and you almost didn’t pick up the last part.

“You wanna eat?” Jisung yelled, “You gotta run first, weakling!”

You wanted to punch Jisung hard, he really was very good at provoking but this wasn’t the best time to do so. You watched Jisung dashed off to the left side of the forest, which was opposite to where you were hiding. You grow more worried as minutes pass by. After what felt like an eternity, you decided to head first according to Jisung’s plan. Along the walk, you became more anxious about Jisung, you hoped that whatever his plan was, worked for him, because unfortunately, there you are, face to face with another creature– Greater Basilisk, oh, how lucky you were. Knowing that you were nothing compared to the beast, all you can do is run. Turning to your heels, you ran with all your might albeit trembling. You ran here and there, making you more lost than you actually were. You were worried as hell for Jisung and now you were running everywhere just to get away from the beast chasing after you. You were on the verge of breaking down when you heard the ringing in your ears. Thank goodness! You felt dizzy, causing you to trip on a twig you didn’t notice. The last thing you saw before your vision swirled was the Greater Basilisk’s mouth. You were transported into the void just in time, that’s when you let your tears out as you fall into nothingness, and you felt grateful for whatever this thing is.

「4th Strike.」

You opened your eyes and you were back in your hiding spot. You left out a heavy sigh and grabbed the clock from the pocket of your kirtle. The hands were pointing exactly at 11:45. So I get transported to the time, fifteen minutes before twelve. This time though, you decided not to leave your spot.

“So, what are we hiding from?” You flinched at the deep voice.

“Jisung?” You turned your head and met a man standing behind you wearing a white dress shirt, black trousers and suspenders worn over his shoulders. The first button of his shirt were unbuttoned, making him appear mature. He has his hair styled up that brags his pretty forehead. Were they all required to look this good?

“You’re staring,” He snorted, “and I am not Jisung.” He made himself comfortable beside you.

“Oh, you have the Horologium.” The man pointed to your pocket watch, “Where’d you get that?”

“What are you talking about? This was given by my mother.” You clutched the pocket watch close to your chest protectively.

“Is that so? I used to have one but I accidentally stepped on it.” He chuckled and that was the most pleasant thing you’ve ever heard since you came here.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you shoved back the watch inside your pocket, you felt like he has all the answers to your questions and you figured it wouldn’t hurt trying, “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Where are we?” He threw you a ridiculous look.

“At the forest, obviously.” You didn’t expect his answer but he’s right.

“What is this place?”

“Why are you here when you don’t even know this place!” He hit the bullseye, that’s very stupid of you to follow a squirrel without even having an idea where would it take you, and he notices your lack of response, “You’re in District 9.”

You heard a loud growling not too far from your hiding spot, “I hate reptiles.” You bit your lip and peeked from the bush that hid you and your guess was correct, it was the Greater Basilisk.

“How did you know?” The man beside you asked in a quiet voice.

“I already encountered that monster earlier!” You spoke in an angry tone, “I can’t believe it’ll come here.”

“So that’s what you were hiding from?”

“Not really. It just so happened that I followed Jisung’s plan but ended up face to face with that,” you sighed, should I tell him? “Do you know that 12 o’clock thing? I was transported back here before that monster ate my head off.”

Something in the deepest part of Seungmin’s memory struck upon the mention of 12 o’clock. You were really just like him when he first stumbled at District 9.

“Do you know that your watch can work like magic?” Seungmin asked.

“What are you saying this time?” You eyed him suspiciously.

Seungmin smirked, “The basilisk can smell us, if you wanted to know.” The tiny hairs on your nape stood up and you never wanted to have an encounter with that beast anymore. You took out the pocket watch faster than a lightning.

“What now?” You impatiently asked. Seungmin changed from sitting position into a crouching position before pulling you towards him. He grabbed your hand holding the timepiece and pressed the crown firmly. Your cheeks flushed upon the realization that Seungmin was holding your hand tight but it was cut short by the glowing of light from your pocket watch. The light formed a circle that served as a shell for the both of you.

“What is this?” You asked, bewildered by the hidden power your pocket watch holds.

“The power of Horologium,” Seungmin explained, “It can give you protection and invisibility but it only lasts for half an hour. Pretty cool, right?”

You faced Seungmin and noticed how dangerously close he was. His eyes met with yours and you felt the loud thumping inside your chest, you’re sure that he could see how red your cheeks were. You realized that he kind of looked familiar to you.

“You’re staring again,” Seungmin lightly chuckled, “I can’t believe you are already falling for me, princess.”

“If I push you out of this shield, what would happen to you?” You smiled in a sarcastic manner and he just rolled his eyes at you. He was about to say something whilst you glanced over the bush and the basilisk was standing in front of your hiding place.

“It’s right in front of us! Shh!” You placed your forefinger above his lips to shut him up. Little did you know, Seungmin was already dying inside yet feeling alive from the close proximity, his heart did a series of backflips when your finger came in contact with his lips. He didn’t understand why you have this effect on him and it’s not like he hated it, he was just baffled.

“It’s gone!” Seungmin snapped out of his trance, “But how do I deactivate this?”

“Yeah, right, all you have to do is chant ‘in tempore’.” The shield slowly faded after Seungmin muttered the chant, “See?”

“How awesome!” A wide smile spread across your face from astonishment.

Seungmin couldn’t suppress the smile forming on his lips from how adorable you looked.

“Woah there buddy, get your hands off.” Your eyes darted towards the owner of the stern voice and found Jisung with an extremely disheveled hair.

“Who are you to tell me?” Seungmin helped you get up and smiled at you gently making Jisung grow more irritated.

“Why would I trust someone like you?” Oh, Jisung, stop digging your own grave.

“Why are you so worked up? I just helped her hide from a beast, right?” You nodded enthusiastically. Seungmin enjoyed the sight, he can read him and he wanted to try pushing Jisung’s buttons further, “Why are you acting so protective of her when you literally left her alone?”

Jisung clenched his jaw, he couldn’t admit that he was feeling jealous of seeing Seungmin holding you too close to him for his liking.

“I know you find her cute and all but can we like, leave now? We have something else to do, Min.” A charming young man with cold, fox-like eyes and blue hair came out from the opposite side of the forest. He was wearing a vest instead of suspenders, unlike Seungmin.

“How did you find me?” Seungmin’s ears turned cherry red. How could Jeongin expose him like that?

“You just talked to this girl and you already forgot that I can literally smell you from miles? Oh, greater basilisk, this isn’t you, Min!” Jeongin cackled.

“Hey, I have a name!” You glared at him

“Alright, Miss. But I wasn’t talking to you.” Jeongin snapped back.

“Watch your mouth, Jeongin.” Seungmin threatened, he was not just having it.

“Yeah, sure, Loverboy. Come on, we’ve got to go somewhere!” Jeongin waved his hand in annoyance.

Seungmin rolled his eyes before whispering to you, “I apologize in his stead, he’s not usually like this.” He walked over to Jeongin while Jisung was shooting daggers with his eyes as Seungmin walked past him.

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Jisung gave Seungmin one last glare before pulling you to his side.

“See you later, Y/N, bye chipmunk!” Seungmin waved at you before dragging Jeongin away, seeing Jisung frown made Seungmin erupt in laughter.

Oh god, why does his laugh sound familiar?

“Why were you still there? I told you to go first.” Jisung blurted out unconscious of the anger in his tone.

“Hey, calm down. Why are you so angry? I was almost- if I didn’t wait for you, I would have already been eaten by the basilisk.” Jisung’s anger slowly died down because of your next words, “Also, I was worried as hell for you!”

“You were?” Jisung didn’t notice the smile creeping up his cheeks.

“Why are you smiling like that? It’s freaking me out.” You pushed Jisung away from you jokingly and he just left a hearty laugh, “You’re weird.”

“Call me that one more time and I won’t treat you to lunch.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Alright, mighty squirrel.”

「Last Strike.」

Upon reaching the castle, you were welcomed by the king having tantrums so you were escorted to the garden instead. His loud yelling echoed within the palace halls and you were never terrified of someone in your life until today, not even your mother. You heard a loud shattering of glass causing you to flinch on your seat, across the you was Jisung sighing heavily.

“When you said he’s got a bad temper I didn’t know that it was that bad.” You admitted.

“Not to scare you, but actually... that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Jisung gave you an uneasy smile as he picked up a cookie on the table.

After what seemed like an hour, the king’s shouting could no longer be heard and the tension inside the palace walls died down, you were asked to come to a room for interrogation. The servant bowed before leaving the two of you in front of a wooden door. You knocked and heard a muffled voice behind the door saying come in.

“Greetings, my King.” You copied Jisung’s actions and bowed.

“You may have a seat,” The king spoke without sparing you a glance, he was busy signing documents, “What brings you here?”

“My King, I found another lost traveler in our land.” You were confused with Jisung’s statement and he has this mysterious aura around him that left an unsettling feeling inside you.

So this isn’t the first time they’ve encountered people like me.

“Oh, really? Please tell me more about it.” The king finally decided to turn to you.

“Here’s Y/N. She said she was from Alium Orbis.” Jisung took a pause, “does our District 9 perhaps have connection to other lands?”

“Alium Orbis… that sounds familiar.” The king rang the bell and a servant entered the room.

“You called, Your Majesty?” The servant bowed to the king, “Do you need anything, Your Highness?”

“Have you ever heard of Alium Orbis? I think we had someone come here before from that land.” You were staring at the king for a very long time now and you notice how intimidating he looked. His eyes had this sense of authority in them, his broad shoulders also added to his intimidating look, as if he can break anyone into pieces.

“Yes, Your Majesty. His name was Kim Seungmin.” You felt your heart jump upon hearing the name.

“Miss Y/N, do you know him by any chance?” The king’s piercing gaze almost made your soul leave your body.

“I do, Your Highness.” Tons of questions about Seungmin flooded your mind. One day you all woke up and Seungmin disappeared just like that. His parents almost turned mad when they heard the news that their only son was missing.

“That’s good news then.” The king turned to his servant, “Where is he now?”

“I believe he’s with the Teller. He still wasn’t able to leave our land.”

“I remember now, it’s been exactly twelve years, right?” The king placed his hand under his chin as he tried to figure out the reason, “Suspicious.”

“Nevermind,” The king opened the drawer and took out a piece of paper before handing it to you, “this is the map to the Teller’s place.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” You gave him a small smile.

“I advise you to start your journey sooner before the day gets succumbed by darkness.” You were freaked out by the king’s choice of words but you stood up from your seat anyway.

“Thank you, Lord Changbin.” Jisung bowed before the king and the servant escorted you out of the palace.

It took you three hours to get to the Teller’s place, you were feeling nervous and uneasy for an unknown reason. You should be excited, right?

You lightly knocked on the door and you were welcomed by none other than him. You did not expect that he would be the one you’re looking for, “Oh, it’s you. Uhm, you are the Teller?”

“No, it’s Jeongin.” If the man standing in front of you isn’t Jeongin- oh.

“Seungmin?” A large part of you hope that you’re right, despite the information from earlier, you’ve been looking for him all this time, and maybe that was the reason he looked familiar.

“Yes, that’s my name.” Seungmin smiled pleasantly, you mentioning his name sounded mellifluous to him, “You’re looking for Jeongin?” You nodded calmly inspite the storm in your insides.

“We are not here to flirt.” Jisung scoffed behind you and Seungmin rolled his eyes before stepping aside to get in. Seungmin motioned you to follow him and led you to what seemed like a place for rituals.

“Jeongin, someone’s looking for you.”

“Oh, so, it’s your girl.” Jeongin scoffed but Seungmin did not answer, instead rolling his eyes.

“So you’re not denying it, I see.” Jeongin’s smirk grew wider but decided to stop picking on the older’s nerves, but that smirk soon vanished from his face when he turned to you, “I know why you’re here. Do you want me to get straight to the point?”

“Sure.” Jeongin pointed to the seat near the cauldron, gesturing you to have a seat.

“First answer to your question, just like a pendulum, it never stops once you move it, so does the Horologium. You will continue to go back in time when the clock strikes to twelve until you leave this place.” You were amazed and creeped out at the same time, “I know the route to Alium Orbis, Seungmin’s from there too, unfortunately, he broke his clock so he couldn’t return, not only that, he also forgot his memories outside District 9. Seungmin’s clever and all but sometimes he’s just dumb.” Seungmin let out a sound of disapproval and Jeongin laughed, his pleasure truly comes from annoying the older. However, the thought of Seungmin forgetting you does hurt like hell.

“So, Y/N, if you were to leave make sure that you will step out of the boundary before twelve. I suppose there are other ways but I still haven’t found out.” Jeongin didn’t even trip on his words, he wasn’t the Teller for nothing, “But you know, at District 9, once you enter there’s no way of getting out.” Jeongin laughed rather maniacally, his wicked voice filling the house.

“What do you mean by that?” You abruptly stood up from your seat.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You know fully well what that means.” Jeongin walked closer to you, raising his hand that was emitting blue flame. Seungmin stepped in before Jeongin could hurt you, “What now, Seungmin? You’re going to protect her when you couldn’t even protect yourself?”

Jisung who has been silent since you entered the house finally spoke, “Y/N, the truth is... You will never be able to leave this place,” he stood beside Jeongin before he continued, malice notable in his voice, “No one can leave this house.”

As if on cue, Jeongin started shooting flames around the house while Jisung took out bombs similar to Minho’s and Hyunjin’s and threw it everywhere. The colored smoke blocked your vision while the smell of burning wood entered your lungs. Their wicked laughter reverberated within the house, there’s no way you’d let them burn you alive. The suffocating atmosphere inside the house made you hold your breath as you tried to step forward despite the heavy feeling on your legs due to the lack of oxygen to grab Seungmin’s arm, luckily he was just a few steps away from you. You managed to get out of the house unharmed even though you bumped on several furniture and broke objects on the way to find the exit.

However, Jisung and Jeongin were quick to follow you. Seungmin’s movements were really languid as if he didn’t care about anything. Your kicking adrenaline was the only reason you were able to run speedily despite Seungmin’s lazy and heavy footsteps that keeps slowing you down.

“Seungmin, we have to leave now!” You dragged him away from Jisung and Jeongin.

“But Y/N, I don’t want to leave.” Seungmin’s words made you stop on your tracks, “that’s why I intentionally broke my clock.”

“Seungmin, we don’t belong here. They’re all insane!” You cried, at this point, the only thing you wanted to do was to leave this hell of a place. You’ve had enough of all the madness this place bears.

“Didn’t everyone in the town call me that?” Seungmin tightened his fist, his memories came flooding, he could now remember everything– from his childhood to people calling him insults, he was just a kid enjoying his imagination and fantasies, “Y/N, please let me go.”

“No, Seungmin, I cannot afford to lose you again.” You were sobbing, letting your feelings out.

Ever since Seungmin disappeared, not once you did not think of him. He was your best friend who caused the blossoming feelings inside you, the only one you could trust, the only one who could understand your complexity. The only one you wanted to sacrifice your life for and give all the happiness in the world. Your feelings for him never changed throughout the years.

“Please, Seungmin.” That was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done in your life. You only wanted to spend the rest of your life with no one but Seungmin.

“Why, Y/N? Tell me why should it matter to you!” Seungmin yelled, pain and trauma evident from his tone, you never knew that he was suffering inside all those times. You choked on your sobs, the lump in your throat was getting bigger, it’s now or never.

“Because I care for you! Can’t you see that? You’re my best friend!” Oh god, how hard could admitting one’s feelings get?

“You can find another best friend there,” Seungmin started tearing up too, “Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t want anyone else!” Your mouth already has a mind of its own, and you couldn’t believe the next words that slipped out of your mouth, “I only want you!”

It made you even more frustrated with everything. You glanced at the clock dangling around your neck, you only had ten minutes 'till 12 and you wanted to leave, but not without Seungmin.

“If you really care for me, then stay with me here.” Seungmin stepped closer to you, offering his hand.

“Why are you acting so childish, Min!” Your emotions were getting mixed up and from afar, you could hear Jeongin and Jisung’s shouts and twisted words.

“Y/N! I thought you liked me? Why are you running away from me?” The tone of Jisung’s voice made shivers crawl on your body.

“Seungmin, they’re near, let’s leave!” You pulled Seungmin but he doesn’t budge.

“You like Jisung?” Seungmin’s eyes looked hurt and empty as it gazed at your frustrated ones. You wanted to hug him but there’s not enough time.

“Please Seungmin, not this.” Why can’t you just admit it?

“Don’t avoid the question, Y/N.”

“Let’s leave now, please. They would be here anytime soon.”

“Why can’t you just leave me here and go on your own?” Seungmin was really trying to get those words out of your throat.

“For heaven’s sake, Min. Don’t make me say it!” You smacked your forehead in annoyance.

“Say what?”

Screw it.

“Of course, I love you! Why would there be any other reason?” You never thought you would have the courage to admit your feelings, especially not this way.

“I’ll never let Jisung take you.” With those words, Seungmin picked you up swiftly in his arms and ran from the scene as fast as he could.

“Why couldn’t you just say it?” Seungmin asked, his eyes still focused on the way.

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know how you feel!” Your voice raised in defense.

“That’s so stupid, Y/N! I already told you many times that I liked you!” Seungmin groaned in frustration, he thought he already made it clear.

“I thought you meant that as a friend.” Seungmin couldn’t be mad at you, though he declared his feelings for you, he never acted on it, maybe that was the reason you didn’t feel it.

“I’m sorry. I did not make it clear either.” Seungmin looks at you with so much regret in his eyes, he swore that this time, he’d treat you right.

“It’s okay, Min,” you wiped the tears that stained his cheeks.

“Hold tight, Y/N. We’re gonna use your watch to leave this hell.” You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck while holding the timepiece in your left hand tightly to avoid it slipping out of your neck. He sped up, and from his back, you could see Jeongin and Jisung chasing after the two of you.

He stopped in front of a large wall and put you down, “Now, give me the Horologium.” You quickly handed him the watch and he wrapped his arm around your waist, making heart flutter from his action, “Hug me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said hug me.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your head on his chest.

“Why do you have to say it like that!” You heard Seungmin let out a mischievous chuckle.

“Brace yourself, we’re gonna end this cycle once and for all.”

You saw Seungmin throw your pocket watch on the ground causing it to break. You wanted to cry but you’re fully aware that Seungmin knows better. You peeked from his shoulder, Jisung and Jeongin were nearing you two, “Seungmin, they’re here!”

“I forgot the chant!” You looked at Seungmin wide-eyed, “No, I’m just kidding.”

Before you can punch his arm, you heard him mumble before stepping on the watch.

“In nullo tempore.”

Just in time, you saw Jisung and Jeongin freeze on their spot, as if the time stopped, the surroundings became silent and the only thing you could hear was the obnoxious ringing in your ear. You felt the familiar dizziness along with the pulsating of your head, Seungmin pressed his body closer to yours, if that was possible, tightening his grip around your waist. You saw a blinding light before you were transported harshly to the familiar void of darkness.

You heard Seungmin utter your name.

“I can’t see you but I can feel you,” you cringed at your words, “What I meant is, I cannot see you but I can still feel you hugging me. Yeah, uh, why do I feel like we’re floating?”

“Y/N…” Seungmin spoke slowly this time.

“What?” Your voice echoed in the void.

“Do you really mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“You care for me.” You felt your cheeks heating up.

“I do.” You sighed, “Never once you left my mind. I miss you so much, the thought of never seeing you again kills me more than anything.” A tear escaped your eye and you were surprised to see your tear glowed as it floated above you but you couldn’t care less.

“I felt lonely without you, I thought I was going nuts from the emptiness.” More tears escaped your eyes as you sobbed on his chest.

“I love you too.” Seungmin caressed your locks and it made your heart feel warm; if it weren’t for you, he would have been stuck with his fears and would never have the courage to leave. “Y/N, your tears… Look at them.” You looked up to see the droplets of your tears glowed in different colors, becoming the source of light to the dark void, it formed a constellation that looked like the one you saw through the telescope– a pendulum. Seungmin was beyond ethereal, with the glowing bits of light that casted the surroundings and you’ve never felt so in love.

“Wait, how long are we gonna stay like this?” You faced Seungmin, and you have never seen him look so happy yet sad at the same time.

“Oh, right. I forgot to say the last chant.” You lightly smack his chest and he placed a quick peck on your lips that is enough for the fireworks to burst inside your chest before giving you his heart eyes.

“The pendulum stops here and now.”

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highsviolets · 4 years

Text

breathless: lifeguard!obi-wan x reader

summary: a self-described “90s!au Summer lifeguard job with obi and he saves you from drowning”

word count: no clue. once again this was written on my notes app so pls excuse typos!

rating: pg-13 for language, themes, kissing

A/N: fulfilling a prompt request for @afogocado, who sent me the following photo and summary last night for inspo. gosh this was absurdly fun. enjoy, loves -xx.

breathless, a fic by corellians-only

“Sorry about your cigarette,” you mumble, crossing your arms to ward off the chill. your eyes focus on a triad of water droplets suspended on his left bicep even as he takes another step closer, vaporizing the gap between you.

“ ‘s not a problem,” he returns with a half-grin. It makes you weak. It shouldn’t. But it does. A new feeling is rapidly bubbling up to replace the onslaught of adrenaline. Effervescent heat starts fermenting in your core — he runs a hand through shaggy hair, now limp and loose around his face — he reaches around you — his palm skates over your bare arm — he’s looking at you perplexed, repeating his question more insistently now.

“would you like one? A cigarette?”

your brain — your eyes, really — toggles between his azure eyes and the pack of Marlboro’s now secure, comfortable, in his palm. His fingers, still damp judging by the condition of the cardboard, are extended towards you, a link, a bridge — an offering? — in that charged space between you and him. His eyes drag themselves from the cigarette curled in his fingers ((what would it feel like to have his fingers curled around your wrist, around your—)) to your face in time to catch your nod.

He watches you. Watches you pluck the white stick from his fingers. Watches you place it to your lips. Watches you lean forward, this time foisting yourself into his space, that forbidden no-man’s-land. Watches you watch him — he’s fumbling with the lighter, more awkward now that he’s not in the water — he’s got it now, the flame appearing with a muted click, and he’s raising the fire to your lips ((you haphazardly wish he would set you on fire in a different way)) — you inhale and close your eyes as the heady scent fills you.

Reluctantly you take a step back, exhaling the smoke and turning your head as you do so to avoid his face. The wind changes, though — what’s that they say about the best-laid plans? — and it’s thrown back into him and he splutters and coughs, pausing his own efforts. your jaw drops. Aw, hell.

“This just doesn’t seem to be my day, does it?” The remark, and your self-deprecating smile, brings a hitherto unseen light to his eyes. Something more than interest, more than mischievousness. maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither. his rejoinder is too quick for you to angst over it for more than a moment.

“why would you say that?” the cigarette twirls in his hand, like that kid who sits behind you in geometry does with his pencil when he’s bored. There’s no accusation dancing at the edge of his tone.

you shrug. Squint as the sun starts to make an appearance again. “Well, I nearly drowned, for starters” you drawl. His eyes, those ungodly aquamarine orbs, are boring into you, so you take another drag of your cigarette. Christ. It’s been a while.

“Near-drowning is a pretty low threshold for a shitty day.” The upwards lilt of his voice tells you he’s just messing around, so you roll your eyes. A thought seizes you.

“Well, I do you have you to thank for the ‘nearly’ part, don’t I?” you muse, matching his airy, unaffected tone. It’s your turn to examine him, now, and you rake your eyes over his form, patches of corded muscle still wet, glistening in the sun.

from the corner of eye you see him bite his lip. another impulse screams at you and you listen. You reach out and tug the lighter from his grasp — his hand clutches at the now-phantom object, reaching at nothingness — you take his other hand, the one with the Marlboro, and raise it to his lips — you murmur a few words that cause his eyebrows to shoot up in gentle surprise.

“Will you permit me?”

he nods ((once, twice, rapidly, easily)) and maybe you’re a fool but it seems like his breath hitches and his eyes flicker down to your lips when you light his cigarette.

He nods again, this time in thanks. He tosses the pack onto the table, and the lighter joins it quickly thereafter. it’s the least you could do, you say, as though you did this sort thing — share cigarettes with attractive half clothed life guards — all the time. Maybe you did, in another life. He wouldn’t know.

“I’m Ben.”

“Hi.”

there’s a silence. a few heart beats? half-dozen light years? You’ll never know. He runs his hand through his long hair again ((not quite to his collarbone, but shit, it’s better looking than yours)) and you says something that gives rise to a smirk playing across his diamond-cut features.

“I already know who you are.” Another long drag. A sidelong glance. Strains of The Cranberries waft over from over the iron fence. He shrugs. Another drag, maybe two. “I like the Indigo Girls better.” Another pause. “But Rites of Passage was better than Swamp Ophelia.”

“1200 Curfews is the best of both.” your eyes narrow. “Don’t avoid the topic, Ben. How’d you know who I was?”

A toss and vigorous stamp of your foot and your cigarette joins his, dead in the dirt.

He laughs and the heat in your stomach is back ((did it ever go away)) and it’s creeping through your rib cage straight to your heart and it’s climbing through you and creeping to your fingertips and trickling down to everywhere, everywhere and you grasp onto the table behind you with urgency and it’s all you can do stand upright, damnit and the rickety table sways under the sudden stress.

Hands — strong, sweet ((can hands be sweet)) immediately reach out to steady you, clutching your forearms, holding you in place — pinning you down, ((god you wish)) — thumbs caress your muscled shoulders in small circles — his head is bent, obscuring his vision — trying to get a better look at you — you nod, yes you’re okay, if you really knew me you’d know I was a klutz — he nods — smirks — he already knew that, knew you.

“You’ve been at the pool nearly every day this summer.”

once more he reaches around you and this time, Ben emerges with a towel. He wraps it around you gently, authoritatively, no doubt having noticed the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh. a hand tugs at the edges of the cotton cloth near your neck, dragging it back from slipping off completely. It lingers. He meets your eyes for the first time in what feels like years. You can breathe again now.

“Even if your head’s been buried in books, your friends, they’re still talking about you. Trying to get your attention.” He cants his head. “So how’s The End of History? Worth the hype?” Hands are near, around you, always. Chlorine and salt and sweat and cigarettes envelop you both, heavy, but not cloying.

“You know Fukuyama?” he simply looks at you and nods. “Well, he makes an interesting argument, but I don’t think he adequately rejects Huntington’s thesis.”

Ben smiles, a brilliant, radiant act that could act as your life force for days, you’re sure of it, you would do anything to make sure he smiled like this the rest of his life, he’s so beautiful. “Wise words from a wise woman.”

A man — boy? — yells over the fence — hey, kenobi! — that politics and diplomacy never won over any girls, tell her about the time in the Sheddu Maad neighborhood — he ducks his head — tells Anakin to shove off, mate, leave it alone.

You laugh at his embarrassment, only detectable because you’ve been analyzing him, only because he seems to make sense to you the way no one else does, only because he saved your life, how the hell would you know?

A hand scratches the back of his neck. “You wanna get out of here?” Ben ignores the jibing of his friend and speaks quietly, assuredly, like he knows you’ll say yes.

The fire surges in you again and you wonder what it would be like for that voice to tell you to hold still and you haven’t even finished giving form and sound to your assent when he’s wresting the towel off of your shoulders and pulling the baggy white lifeguarding t shirt over your head and his muscles are bunching with the effort ((and for your benefit, you suspect)).

The towel gets draped gracefully over a lightly tanned arm, the cigarettes and lighter and keys tossed into the pocket of his now-dry swim trunks, your book is secured in the crook of an elbow.

Ben grabs your hand and starts leading you to his car with an errant grin ((shit, he’s strong)). It’s a make and model you don’t recognize. He makes quick work of the necessities, tossing notebooks and periodicals and a set of brass knuckles into the backseat. the towel and your book join the island of misfits, but he’s more careful about those things. he’s like you. He doesn’t do this often. More interested in words and cigarettes than Alicia Silverstone’s clothes in Clueless.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The nail of his thumb is tracing patterns in your palm and it’s achingly tender and the faintest bit teasing and just enough to grip his hand a little harder than necessary and you ponder how you can exact revenge for his antics.

Rummaging complete, he turns to face you. He’s serious. You can see it in his eyes — they’ve changed — they’re a more delicate shade of blue now, more like glinting sapphire than cerulean — Ben turns so you’re in between him and the car. His hair, too, has changed color, more copper-toned with flecks of gold. You like it better like that, and you tell him so.

“one thing left.”

“What’s that?” you hope you don’t sound breathless. Or maybe you do, and you decide you don’t care. He’s probably going to kiss you anyway. What’s the sense in not telling him you want him to, with all the ladylike weapons you have in your arsenal? He’s nervous now. His thumb has stilled. Ben’s eyes are the color of the sea before a storm, a rippling kaleidoscope of blues and half-greens.

still, he smiles, and it reaches those tempestuous eyes, crinkling and compressing their thunder and lighting around the edges.

a kiss imprinted on your knuckles — his mouth against you — a tongue grazes over your skin, tasting for the first time — you stare unabashedly — the heat has reached your cheeks now, and you don’t even care — his thumb replaces his mouth now, drifting over you the peaks and valleys of your hand.

“May you permit me?” He murmurs gingerly, echoing your previous words with obstinate formality.

and you, too, mimic him, simply nodding. Your hands drop as he leans forward and —

Oh.

the pressure of his lips on yours is feather-light. It’s seeking. Reassuring. Gentle. Exploratory.

But you do not want gentle. You are too far gone for that.

Your tongue insistently licks the seam of his lips and his gasp of surprise gains you entrance to his mouth — he retaliates with a gentle nip on your lower lip — hands move — now on his stubbly cheeks, now threading through his hair — tugging, grasping for purchase for your own stability as much as for pleasure.

he moans again when your fingers rake his scalp and his hands go to your hips, skimming under his oversized t-shirt and gripping your waist, holding you in place even as your legs seem to fall open of their own accord, at this juncture when instinct and pleasure formulate a compound, a melange, a hydrogen bond with irrationally high ionization energy.

Ben’s tongue delves into your mouth ((dominance)) and his chest brushes against yours and he tips his head to get a better angle while his left hand abandons its station on your hip and traverses bare skin, hiking upwards. a mewl erupts from the back of your throat.

he’s migrated to kissing — biting, really — your neck — your head has fallen back against the warm metal of the car — eyes fluttered shut — hands in his hair, scraping at his bare back — fuck, he’s good — it’s not enough —

a car horn startles the both of you. he lifts his head, blinking as though he’s been rudely jolted awake from an REM state. Ben eventually straightens and you follow suit, gathering yourself off the car and twiddling with the edges of your braid.

It’s you who laughs first ((laughing with swollen lips)) and you’re so glad you do. Ben smiles again, that jaw-dropping display of warmth and aliveness it makes your heart skip a ((non-proverbial)) beat. that’s happened so many times in the last few minutes you can’t believe you have yet to pass out.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “ready to get out of here?” a kiss to your cheek. “for real this time?” another to your nose. His eyelashes brush up against your skin — left breathless at the simple intimacy.

you beam up at him. “yes, Ben. I’m ready.”

Fin.

#obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #cristina writes #afogocado #prompt request #cg's og's #never did i ever think i would write this #BUT HERE WE ARE #usernobie

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Passage

Sometimes you’re on the train when you’re writing. Sometimes you happen to be writing DamiRae on that train. So, I thought I would write DamiRae on the train, on the train. Yes, DamiRae was very much needed! I hope you enjoy this random short.

—————-

A Pullman train scraped and stretched along the track. Each car wormed its way under a bridge. Then it inched into a tunnel, striking them with a constricting darkness. The windows all at once, had gone black. As though the train was a shuttle guiding them along a journey through the underworld. There were flashes, brilliant bulbs lighting the path. The glowing, white souls of the departed that they were leaving in their wake.

Damian Wayne watched them go. He observed them, as they moved on. It was almost a comfort, seeing as he found himself similarly situated. Onward bound. The train continued to teeter, to pull forward. It was onto a new life. His new life. And a new love… He shifted his body through sheets in a bed that was borrowed, not his own. Shaking, rough hands brushed over a pale, sleeping face.

Still there.

She was still there. And that meant, everything that had happened was real. Had they really? He felt compelled to glance down at his body under the blankets. The moving train jostled, then jerked. Her arm fell away from her bosom.

Yes.

On ground lay the trappings of elegant formal wear.

A heavy frock.

Petticoats.

A corset.

Stockings.

Lastly, the voile drawers.

The adornments were armor. With armor came with such an albatross.

But, it had happened nonetheless.

Raven and Damian had talked into the night, finally laying aside formalities and typical pleasantries with which society deemed appropriate. But they didn't need the weight of unwieldy words and gestures anymore. For once, they were entirely alone, with no fear of being seen or overheard.

Abruptly, Raven had stopped speaking. But she offered a sentiment that would be the last. “I’ve not once, truly looked at you,” she had said. “To take you in entirely. So very completely.” She glanced into his eyes, and he into hers. And they knew there was nothing more that needed be spoken. They made love - intensely - exquisitely. Deliriously. She gave her body to him, and his belonged to her. They left themselves in the care of one another while they slept. She was unguarded, open and bare. Vulnerable. And she was freely offering up vulnerability. She was showing him her everything. Hiding from him nothing.

At last.

Was he worthy of her? Truly worthy of all this?

She could have anyone - she was supposed to.

Raven Roth.

The papers would be a tailspin and a tizzy if the slightest wind was caught. Raven Roth, whose society debut was superseded only by the Roth family’s old fortune. Suitors had been clamoring to court since she turned of marrying of age. The door to the Roth estate ought to be rebuilt on revolvers to lessen the strain of a line down the block. In itself, the family name, suitors were guaranteed. But it was the stories of her legend that created the frenzy.

She had a unique beauty unparalleled by any other. A wide-eyed, innocence in juxtaposition with her ever-knowing and slightly cross expression. It didn’t mar her looks cavalierly, as it might’ve some. Instead it bequeathed her an air of nobility and humility. It was as though she hardly knew what all the fuss was about - she’d rather be in her library.

With that pedigree, the likelihood of spending an hour with one like Damian Wayne dwindled. But the heiress didn’t agree. She had gone as far as to give the new-money-nobody, foreigner a piece of her virtue, and furthermore a piece of her soul - on a train.

Raven Roth had run off.

Would she ever know much it meant that she chose him? Could she ever?

A hand crept up and looped a finger through each of his own. With a sharp pull at their clasp, he plodded backwards into the bed, taking up most of their compartment. “Damian?” She drawled sleepily. “What roils ‘round… in that weary head?”

She was assuring and she was playful. And oh so lovely. She kissed the union of their fingers.

Did he mean to doubt her?

“Everything and nothing…” Raven grinned in memoriam. At once, Damian could feel a surging about her skin. She wanted this. She had wanted to ditch her lady maid, Tara and her chaperone, Korina at the last stop. Raven had wanted to leave behind her rules and obligations exactly as he. After all, this was as planned. For months, they had it outlined in secret letters and love notes. Sneaking sidelong glances at garden parties and dinners for which they were both in attendance.

She would flash him, when she caught his eye. She would casually slide her long glove to her milk white elbow, then down to a delicate wrist. And straight back in place before anyone was made wiser. When Raven was to make her exit, Damian would excuse himself to politely hold open the door for her car. Of course, she had a driver, Stone. But Damian wanted the honor, as did the men who dreamed of finding futures charmed with the spell of Lady Raven. He simply longed to grasp her hand, if not to glide a finger, indecently, over a glove.

How things had gone on since they met…

“Raven, are you - were you certain about this?”

The whole thing was convoluted. Completely wonderful. And maddeningly reckless. They were leaving the world behind. “Everything we did tonight…”

“Shhhh…” His eyes closed. Raven coiled her fingers through the strands of buttery, brunette-black. She drew them off the bright green gaze. “Everything we did was…wondrous. I regret not one second of it.” Warm breath brushed his forehead. “Now I know the man I gave myself to wouldn’t either.” Two lips grazed his own.

He inhaled her sweet perfume. Pressing his mouth to hers far longer than she had. They took in turns, seeing how long they could go before one of them caved. Each one pushing their lips harder and longer than the last. Until, she wound her way on top of him.

“I don’t…” He murmured. Massaging the beautifully bare waist. Her rising goosebumps delighted him. It was as though he realized it had been hours since he’d felt her body last.

She gasped, he had taken hold of her as the train jolted. And his teeth started on her neck. “With all these markings, I’m sure grateful I packed a high collar dress.”

“We are not to discuss wearing clothes - not while you are in this state, Raven.” The sheets pooled around her. “This is… how you should always be when you’re with me.” He stroked her loose wavy hair gingerly.

“Always…” She leaned into his touch. “Does that mean?” Damian pulled up her body and lined his open mouth up the midpoint of her breasts.

“It means exactly what I said.”

“Which is?” She insisted. Damian clicked his tongue. “Why Damian? I have read it many times, in our correspondence - in letters. I like to hear you say it…” He smirked at her. “Again - I’d like to hear you say it again.”

He obliged while he whispered to her warmth. “We are going where no one knows us.” Stroking her with each passing word. His heart leapt with the train and with its own excitement. “Past your family estate. Past the whole town. Past state lines. Where we can be together.”

“Together… Always.” She kissed his shoulder. “Do you swear it?”

“Now who is dubious?” He grunted and rolled over. He crushed his mouth with hers. “No matter what happens when we get off this train. Yes.”

“If we even decide to leave.” Raven said in jest. “But until then… Till we arrive, we’ll stay here. On this train, in our creaky compartment. You’ll make love to me… I’ll cry out to the heavens.” She whispered to the man who was desperate to do so. “And when our desire for sustenance finally outweighs our carnal one, we’ll go to the dining car…” She stroked his jawline.

“Or… raid the bar car.”

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sarcastic-space-gal · 4 years

Text

Cross Paths (Part 1)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female Reader;

Word Count: 2,8k;

Warnings: None;

Summary: On Tatooine the Mandalorian is helped by a misterious woman.

A/N: Is it requested? Nope. I still have requests to do? Yep. I’m gonna deliver it to you anyway? Yes. Will there be more than one part? Yes. I have spoken.

Tatooine was the only base available, even if their time on the planet would have been counted. Sometimes the Mandalorian wondered if taking the asset had been a good idea, putting a bounty on the little creature’s head and condemning himself to be a fugitive and living in exile. But how can someone live behind a baby, yes he was a warrior but he was not heartless.

The Razor Crest trespassed the planet’s atmosphere in a matter of minutes and reached the surface, landing vigorously on the desert of Tatooine.

“Stay here” Din pointed at the little creature as he headed towards the exit door and pushed the button as a warm soft breeze filled his body when he finally stepped outside.

The two suns were high in the sky, the temperature was too hot for his liking but fortunately the city was just a mile away from where he landed. He was just about to take off to his destination when a soft cooing sound made his way to his ears. He turned his face and found the crib with the little green creature smiling at him to which he could only respond with a heavy sigh.

Wordlessly he started walking away as the crib floated right next to him.

Mos Eisley’s streets were chaotic and timing with every kind of creature from every part of the galaxy but nobody seemed to care much about them, which was good, he had to remain low key. The crib was now closed in order to not arouse suspicion: seeing a Mandalorian with a crib was already strange enough.

Merchants’ yells and the indistinct chattering of the people almost covered the Din’s thoughts as he finally found hat he was searching for: charges and munitions. While searching for the things he needed within the endless types the seller had displayed, he repeatedly kept looking around him, making sure that no one was here for them.

As he put away the last weapon in his belt he strode down the street again when a beeping sound caught his ear.

“It’s him!”

Without hesitating he pulled out the blaster and started firing towards the voice as all the people in the streets started screaming in horror and running away to find a shelter. They were there for the baby, but he wouldn’t let them take him, he thought while hiding behind a corner.

From what he could tell there were at least six or seven of them. That was not good, not with the crib floating closely around him, making it a perfect target.

“Here!” a different voice came from behind him, making him turn around and aiming the blaster at whoever was there.

_______________________________________________

Mandalorians are warriors: weapons are part of their religion, the thirst of conquest is embedded in their instinct, confrontation is inevitable, fighting is necessary.

War is their way of life. War is their God.

This is what you knew about them or at least what has been told you about them. You’d never seen a Mandalorian before but their story had always intrigued you: how can someone give away his life, his entire being on one belief, for one cause and follow it, die for it.

Listening carefully to the rumors that were always going around, you heard even more terrible stories about them, as they were depicted as dreadful opponents, someone you don’t want to face on the battlefield, and if you were on their list, the last thing you’d see before dying would have been their blaster pointing at you.

But well, maybe you’d rather have a Mandalorian against you than carrying on with your kind of life, you thought. Surviving sometimes was really hard and challenging as you found yourself skipping meals many times and fighting and praying to the Maker that the next day would be better.

That day turned out to be really different.

As you did everyday, you woke up from your tiny little spot where since countless days and months you passed the night, get dressed, took your weapon and headed out in the streets of Mos Eisley.

Life as a scavenger was exhausting but it would put food on the table… sometimes. That day you had to sell some items that you took two days prior from an abandoned dathomirian starship.

Since you arrived to the marketplace you could not notice the stranger who strode down the street with a...crib? But his appearance spoke by itself. The helmet, the armor, you had no doubt: he was a Mandalorian. Finishing the deal you shoved your credits in the pocket and turned to see him buying some munitions. Intrigued you put your headscarf up to your nose so that only your eyes where out, and slowly followed him down the streets, not sure why you were doing that. Then suddenly you heard blasters firing around and people frenetically running away. You could swear that all the bustle was because of the new arrival in town.

Quickly running around the corner, you saw him hiding and occasionally firing at the hunters. You had to help him. Searching for a better place to hide you scanned the area and with a solid kick you opened a door and shouted “Here!”

_______________________________________________

“I’m not a bounty hunter, I wanna help you, come here” it was a female voice for sure.

“He is not alone come on!” one of the hunters shouted.

Lacking of any other ideas, Din quickly typed something on the screen placed on his left arm and sprinted towards you as the crib floated in your direction too.

“Inside” with a side nod you pointed inside where the door was slammed open. The man and the crib followed your instruction as you entered and closed the door just before hearing some shouting and heavy footsteps running down the street.

“That was close” you said as the adrenaline pumped into your veins when you turned and saw the Mandalorian with the blaster still firmly in his hand. When finally all the shouts silenced, he shoved his weapon in his belt.

“Thank you” his voice was steady, calm and even if it was filtrated by the helmet you could feel it was deep, it almost made goosebumps appear on your skin.

The light inside the house was dim as the only source of it was through a small window almost fully covered by a heavy curtain, making really difficult to see. But even in the dark you could make out the outline of the Mandalorian looking at you, his sixth-sense and experience was probably kicking in, knowing that he couldn’t trust anyone.

“Don’t mention it” you replied kindly before heading to the window. You moved the curtain a little and peeked outside, people were still running away but mostly the streets were clear. You turned your head again and saw him on his knees near the crib.

“Is your baby ok-?”

The little oval thing was now open, revealing a little green creature with huge ears compared to the size of his head, who was cooing happily.

“It’s not mine”

“Oh, yeah I can see why” you looked at the little baby with a wide smile on your lips “Hi little one”

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side as he attentively watched every movement you made. The baby was already a fan of yours as he reached up with his little arms.

“I must go” he suddenly said, when few shouts were heard in the street “They are still here”

“I think you should wait for the night and sneak out in the darkness” you suggested.

Even if he wasn’t eager of the idea, he had no other choice, he couldn’t let anything happen to the Child. So with a heavy sigh he lied down with his back leaned on the wall with the crib right next to him.

“I should go then...”

“No” his hands were working on his weapon, he was probably cleaning it “They saw you with me, they’re searching for you too probably”

“Oh” it was the only thing you could manage to say.

After a few moments of silence, noticing the sudden changing in your features the Mandalorian spoke again, this time his voice was soft.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay. I don’t have anything here, I’ll find a safe passage out of this planet as soon as I manage to get out of here” you sat down on the opposite side of the man leaning on the wall too “Hoping that the credits I own are sufficient”

You two didn’t speak again for what seemed like hours, you could tell that he wasn’t a talker but as time went by you shared few glances, or at least you thought, you couldn’t really tell if he was really looking at you through that helmet, but somehow you knew: he was watching you. What was intriguing was that he tried not to be obvious about it. When you lifted your head and meet his eyes he would always quickly look away nonchalantly.

Come on, how you could even think such things, he was a warrior, a hunter, he was probably keeping you under control, after all the only thing he could see were your eyes as you remembered only then that you were still wearing your headscarf.

You pulled the fabric away from your face revealing your features to the man in front of you. At first he did nothing but when he turned his glare to you and saw that you pulled away the veil from your face, deep down in his heart he hoped for a few more light for being able to see you better. But there was none.

“Can I ask what is your name?” you asked, gaining his attention again.

“My real name is a secret, but everyone calls me Mando”

“Mando” you repeated “I’m Y/n”

Din felt his heart falter a bit at the sound of your voice, but shook away the feeling immediately.

The two suns were getting down pretty fast as the two of you stood up ready to go out. The Mandalorian closed the crib again fidgeting with some buttons on his screen.

“I know the way through the streets were you could go unseen, but to reach your gunship you must pass through a not covered area, in the desert. They will probably follow you. But I can show you the way”

He didn’t say anything he just nodded and took his blaster out. The night was already dark and silent, making difficult to see. Perfect.

Slowly you opened the door and scanned the area, no suspicious looking people were around for now. The Mandalorian was right behind you with the crib floating silently. With determination you started striding down the streets, small corners, dark passages with quick turns in every directions: no one could ever see you.

At least it’s what you believed. Someone was lurking in the shadow, following your path.

Then the three of you finally came to the peripheral area of the city, no more corners, no more streets, just sand for miles and miles.

“This is it, you have to be quick and-”

The sound of blasters and red lights interrupted you as you both reached for your weapons and started firing back.

“They’re trapped, the asset is ours” one of the hunters shouted aiming his weapon towards you two.

They were still firing when suddenly a gloved hand wrapped around your upper arm pulling you away and down behind a pile of boxes.

“How many are they?” you shouted.

“At least six or seven, maybe more” even in that circumstance he was able to keep his voice steady almost as if this wasn’t happening “I throw this to them to distract them and we start firing” he said showing a grenade in his hand.

“Sound good for me”

With that Din threw the grenade which exploded vigorously. Without hesitation you charged towards them. After few moments he had already took down three men, but he froze when he saw you fighting. Surely you were skilled, you knew how to fight but the way you move was almost warrior like: kicking, punching, firing you killed all the men near you. The Mandalorian was so caught into your movements that he didn’t see the hunter with the blaster aiming at him just few steps behind him as he caught him in the arm. Without even flinching the shot was stopped by the beskar armor as he quickly turned and shot at him, leaving the streets of Mos Eisley finally silent.

Regaining a steady heartbeat you walked towards him.

“Are you okay?” you asked a little out of breath.

He simply nodded as he shoved his blaster away.

“You should go now”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” your confusion grew every moment.

“You said you needed a safe passage out of here, I can offer you that”

“I don’t have enough credits to pay” sadness suddenly rose from your heart.

“I don’t want them” your confusion was at its peak now. A Mandalorian with a little green creature in a crib was offering a safe passage, and he didn’t want your money? “I could use a crew member of your ability”

“Sorry, are you offering me a safe passage for free?” you questioned.

“Yes” he simply responded.

“I accept” without even thinking about it twice, you responded “I’ll just take few things and we can leave”

“I’m coming with you” your heart skipped a beat. But why? That was probably adrenaline still pumping around your body.

Gathering all the last things from your little ‘home’ you left that place, and followed the Mandalorian to his ship.

The trip to the ship was silent, just the soft sound of your footsteps on the sand and the wind caressing your cheeks, when you finally came to the Razor Crest. You stopped right in your track and just looked at it for a few moments. This was a turning point for your life, a new beginning, away from this planet, away from hunger and away from scavenging.

“This way” the Mandalorian said opening the ship’s cargo door.

Placing your things down you followed him again to the cockpit of the gunship and took a sit next to him, but as the engine turned on a wave of nervousness made his way to your mind. You stiffened in your seat as you hooked your fingers around the armrests.

“Have you ever been on a ship?” it was like he could almost sense your distress.

“No” you gulped “Not one that actually flies”

“Are you nervous?”

“What you suddenly became a talker now?”

That was impossible to tell but you could swear he was smirking under that helmet.

He pressed some buttons, moved some switch and the Razor Crest started flying. Within minutes you could see the planet from the gunship window. Slowly you walked towards it and looked at it in awe. Din didn’t fail noticing your expression while watching for the first time the space and the planet from up above. You features were shaped with happiness, the nervousness was now completely gone as you smiled widely scanning the sky and the stars with your beautiful eyes. They were indeed beautiful. Now with the light shining on your face he could finally see every little detail that was under that headscarf: your e/c eyes, your nose, your mouth, your lips, your beautiful hair. Like in a dream he suddenly looked away, hoping you didn’t notice his staring.

But you did.

“Mesh’la”

“What?” his heart almost skipped a beat after hearing that word. It was a long time since he last heard his language being spoken.

“Isn’t the word for ‘beautiful’ in your language?”

“Yes, it is. How do you know Mando’a?”

He was fully focused on you now. Surely you were full of surprises. You turned away from the cockpit and sat back in your seat.

“Living on a planet like Tatooine is not simple” you started, looking down at your hands that were placed in your lap “I learned to speak many languages, how to fight, how to heal wounds, how to fix ships”

The Mandalorian was listening very carefully at your story as the only sound in the ship was your melodic voice.

“I tried to survive in any possible way”

He simply nodded and didn’t say anything.

After few minutes passed in silence you spoke again.

“Thank you” you said hesitantly “For taking me with you and away from that planet”

Din stayed quiet for a bit.

“Thank you for helping me” his voice was steady and calm “...Us” He turned his head to you and the baby and nodded .

Smiling fondly at him, you leaned in your seat and closed your eyes as the Razor Crest went into hyperdrive to your next destination.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian x you #baby yoda

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darker-soft-starker · 5 years

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Starker au >> My Best Friends Dad Pt.1

(Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4)

-----

Peter is home for the summer, back from his first year away at college. He loves his school, but he’d missed his own room and his small hometown, missed his aunt, and especially his best friend, Harley.

Friends since they met in high school, they parted ways when Peter moved for college and Harley stayed to become an apprentice mechanic for his dad. They’d been inseparable before and he’s glad to find little has changed.

With the summer ahead of them, Peter finds himself spending more and more time at Harley’s place, fixing up old cars, using the space of the big house and bigger yard to host get togethers with their old friends, playing ball or video games and gorging themselves on the perpetually full pantry in the Stark household.

Reuniting with his best friend also meant with Harleys’ dad, who Peter may or may not have had a small crush on since they met. After not seeing him for almost a year Peter would have thought his schoolboy crush had dwindled, but if anything else the passage of time and the maturity he’s gained has only made it worse.

Way worse.

It’s not Peters fault that he’s a helpless bisexual and that Mr. Stark - call me Tony - is a hot, single, forty-something with strong hands and a smile to die for. He’s only human, he can’t be blamed for finding a built older man, usually covered in grease and sweat with low hanging jeans attractive.

And it’s not only that Tony is a fucking babe, but he’s crazy smart and funny too, always with a witty one-liner. He’d always felt so inadequate around him, fumbling and insecure as Tony seemed to be effortlessly charming.

But the year away has done wonders for Peters confidence, finds himself on an equal footing for the first time since they met, finds himself engaging in banter and conversation like the adult he’s become.

And he thinks maybe Tony sees it too.

Maybe he’s imagining it, that Tony starts looking at him differently. Maybe he’s imagining the lingering looks as he bends over the hood of the old car he and Harley are fixing up in the garage. Maybe he’s imagining things when Tony offers him a beer and watches as Peter presses the bottle to the opening of his lips, drinking the bubbly liquid down. Maybe Tony doesn’t watch as he swallows, carbon fizzing down his throat.

Maybe he imagines that Tony touches him more now, the firm pats on the back where Tonys hand lingers longer than normal, the way he reaches out to fix Peter’s wayward curls with a lazy grin, or the way Tony places his hands on Peters hips to shift him while they’re in the kitchen, the garage. Maybe Tony just sees him as an adult now, and it’s all innocent.

Perhaps Peter dreamed the double-take Tony made when he first came back or the way the man finds more reason to be around them, much to Harley’s chagrin.

It’s possible, but that doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t find reasons to walk around shirtless more often than what’s reasonable. Even in the summer heat. And maybe he finds himself eating ice cream cones and lapping at the sticky melted treat as it covers his fingers. If he does it around Tony, it’s just a coincidence.

One night, Peter stays over and Tony joins him and Harley for a Lord of The Rings marathon, sitting himself on the sofa next to Peter and good-naturedly stealing some of the popcorn.

The night is filled with quoted lines and snarky commentary and at some point near the end of the second film Harley bows out, one too many late nights getting the best of him. With a yawn and a mumbled goodnight he drags himself off to bed, leaving Tony and Peter alone in the living room.

They don’t get many moments alone and as the third movie starts up Peter finds himself subtly shifting closer to the older man, getting up to go to the bathroom and coming back only to sit close enough to Tony that their shoulders bump together. It was kind of an accident but Tony is warm and Peter doesn’t want to move, not when he can smell the clean scent of soap and the faint traces of engine oil that always seems to linger.

“Comfortable?” Tony asks as Peter shuffles closer to grab the edge of the blanket on Tony’s lap to drape it over himself. Peters only response is to smile innocently and press play on the remote.

Instead of watching the movie Tony turns to look at him just a few moments too long. Long enough for Peter to feel the heat of his gaze and to stare back. Flashes of movement from the television screen flicker over the mans face, casting him in a glow that makes his face seem softer, more gentle.

“Everything okay, Tony?”

The man reaches out to trace a finger gently along Peter’s forehead, moving a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Just thinking that you need a haircut, Pete.”

The delicate touch has goosebumps raising on his skin and despite the innocent comment, Tony still hasn’t looked away from him. The air in the room feels thicker, like the air particles around them are vibrating.

Peter licks his lips before answering and watches the way Tony follows the movement of his tongue.

“Like you can talk, old man,” Peter teases quietly, reaching up to card his fingers through Tony’s hair, slicking it back. It’s more touch than he’s ever given himself permission to do before, emboldened by the charge between them. Tony’s hair is soft, still a little damp on the ends from when he’d showered earlier.

“Old man? You wound me, kid.”

Peter licks his lips again, letting his hand fall to rest on Tony’s knee.

“Just calling it as how I see it. And… I’m not a kid.”

Tony looks at him with consideration, taking a second to answer. “Guess not,” he says softly, “You really grew up out there, huh? How old are you now, nineteen?”

Peter nods, throat going dry as the Tony’s fingers trails down to gently stroke his jaw. There is no imagining the way that Tonys eyes darken when Peter moves his hand slightly higher up Tonys’ thigh and leans in closer to the older mans face.

“I learned a lot, had some new experiences,” Peter says, close enough that now he can feel Tonys’ warm breath on his face. “Made some new friends.”

“Yeah? Any boyfriends or girlfriends?” He asks, finger still tracing along Peter’s jaw to his chin.

“A few. None right now.”

 The answer gives the older man pause, a moment of silence falling between. There’s a finality in the way that Tony leans in, brown eyes darkening.

“I’m not one of your college boys,” Tony remarks, moving in until there’s barely an inch between their faces.

Peter’s stomach twists hot as he braves creeping his hand up further to palm at Tony’s crotch, finding it already hard beneath the denim. Heat zips up his spine as the man makes no move to stop him.

“I’m not looking for a college boy,” Peter whispers, before finally bridging the gap and pressing his lips to Tony’s.

Tony groans softly between them, hand coming up to cup Peter’s cheek as he presses back. He shivers as the bristle of Tony’s beard tickles his chin, the firm but delicate way Tony touches his face. Soft, gentle pecks quickly devolve into fevered kisses, Tony’s hands in his hair, his tongue in his mouth.

 Later, cheeks flushed and lips slick and swollen, they agree to keep seeing each other in secret.

The rest of the summer is spent in stolen moments, sneaking off to Tony’s room in the middle of the night, stolen kisses in the kitchen while Harley is getting dressed, sex in Peter’s bed while May is at work, texting back and forth, oscillating between sweet I miss you’s and dirty pictures.

It makes him feel like a shitty friend to Harley to keep this from him, but when Tony holds his hand or hugs him from behind, kisses his neck and calls him beautiful, sweetheart or baby, he can’t find it within himself to feel all that bad.

#starker #starker moodboard #starker mini fic #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #spideriron #may do a part two?

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gguktarts · 4 years

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bluebells & buttercups | myg

summary: the Fae Folk had a notorious reputation, despite how no one had seen them for years. but no matter what people said, you knew better. you knew better because when you got lost in the forest, their home, something lead you back to yours. so really, what else to do but invite one over to your humble abode?

pairing: fae!yoongi x reader genre: fantasy au || fluff (a bit domestic, really) || strangers to lovers word count: 20.4k cw: none note: i wrote this fic a looong while ago for a dear friend of mine (@michimindi), but she gave me permission to post it so here it is! the elf race here (modeled after the ones in LOTR) is called Elven,, and they’ll make their own appearance in my future fics!

Late Winter

The village by the northwest side of the great river was always an odd one. It was surrounded by thick trunks that reach the heavens, leaves that sway without the help of the wind, and a forest with an air that threatens to pull everyone in it. And while a small village in which everyone knew everyone, it shone in the privacy people—humans granted each other. Though maybe this had to do with it being a rather prosperous home, despite the sparsity of its inhabitants. That is not to say rumors did not spread, nor that the folk did not gossip. Nevertheless, despite so, they were all very much aware of the plague of misinformation, though less and less with time.

It mostly has to do with their ties and knowledge of the arcane. Half of the residents were descendants of human practitioners of magic, even though they themselves did not participate or think much of such practices. But they could not deny their roots, so they opted to ignore it.

This is also how they knew of the forest around them, and how the respect and hesitant fear their ancestors showed it had lingered throughout the years.

The forest, above all of its inhabitants, was ruled by the Fae Folk. They were humanoid beings, with pointy ears and fair skin but void eyes—beautiful and alluring, or so the old witches used to say. No one in recent times had actually seen one, but that did not matter. Faes had shadows, whispers, and it was widely known how utterly mischievous they tended to be, and how they absolutely loved a good bargain. Anyone walking along the forest paths, or out of them, did so knowingly under the chance of losing their way, of forgetting their steps—and sometimes, sometimes they never returned home.

But people knew that what lives in the forest tends to stay there, grace and matters of theirs far superior to human ones. There’s no reason to get them mixed as long as there’s respect. People were still called towards the vast, giant trees, but the village agreed it was to be expected and did nothing to stop it, much less when they tried denying the very magical explanation behind it.

In actuality, very few villagers openly disliked the idea of the Fae. These ones were scared of them, of their pranking ways, and wanted nothing more but to erase their memories of such things. Most lived ignorantly by choice, ignoring what lay beyond what their gaze could see. They would rather hate their magical past, no matter how bound to it they were.

Others with more direct ancestry, others such as yourself, were… more curious.

Being the last member and only child of your family, you were left to run the small herb & plant shop they ran on the lower grounds of your two-floored house. This responsibility served to help your loneliness—thoughts of it always plagued your mind since young, after being raised mostly by your fragile father.

Often you kept busy tending and selling the plants, drying and packaging herbs, and more often than not with restocking everything.

The way your parents had set the business was not through importing the variety of specimens, but through collecting them from the forest all year around. It was a practice that went back to your great grandmother, being the originator of what was then an apothecary. (You always thought of reopening that medical elixir part—it wasn’t like you had much to do besides sell and recollect herbs to make a living.)

So each season you ventured to the forest, the grounds already fairly imprinted in your memory, and got whichever flower, weed, root, or vine you needed. Those were the times your curiosity ran a bit wild—you would go each time only slightly off course, to see, to experience. That’s how you were sure of the forests’ safety, of the Fae’s dim interest in humans such as yourself.

The Fae Folk always intrigued you, a product of stories of old told by your grandmother and heard by her mother. You often kept an extra eye open during your trips, wondering, hoping you would see one. You never did. At least, never fully. While they taunted your peripheral, they never exposed themselves, never played with you for more than whispered seconds.

They played with Jimin once, your closest friend and hired co-worker. You didn’t send him on gathering trips any longer after that, afraid he’d take away his own presence from your home or even worse, be tricked into losing himself by the Folk to never return.

But this winter it went a bit differently for you. Jimin saw you off alone, bag on your back and eyes observant—this was routine. With the air being cold and biting, and snow threatening to eat your feet however, you went fully equipped: fur padded snow boots on, scarf, long warm stockings and a very, very thick jacket courtesy of your late grandmother. A winter routine, and needed safety precautions.

The cold was harsher earlier that year, too. But this was no indication of possible changes in your trips, or at least you didn’t think so.

While the wind didn’t pick up more than usual, the fallen snow was heavier, threatening to swallow your footsteps. It covered what little green spots and live tree branches there were left and collected itself amongst the others, amongst your feet, quite higher than the visible passage towards the forest. But your trust in your memory blindsided you, failed you when combined with your drifting thoughts.

You went as far as you usually did, and then farther after noticing snow had covered some roots you needed for your apothecary plans. And farther, and farther, with the snow turning every detail you knew so uniform and strikingly identical that by the time you noticed how deep you had gone, it was far too late.

Your heart raced faster with the knowledge, and you weren’t sure if the shadow that lingered by the corners of your eyes were real or product of your panic, but you kept on walking towards the direction you thought you came from.

It didn’t take long before the shadow came clearer for only a second—but it blended with the snow somehow, more of a white outline than thick grays. Were Fae Folk even human size? Much speculation was said about their height, most often the small pixie whispers reigned over the rest. But what you saw, whatever it was you saw, was certainly not small.

You tried following it before fear took over, but only a peaceful humming became present to you with the passing seconds. The shadow went back to being a shadow, and you were sure you were being observed. Usually your skin would have gotten goosebumps at the feeling, but the humming was lulling and your body sensed no threat, so your heart began to calm down. But time was ticking and the chill was getting to your bones, and despite the calmness in your chest, you began to shiver.

Soon after, faint flickering lights appeared before you, each right after the other, leading off to the unknown in your sudden loss of direction.

You looked everywhere again, eyes searching frantically. Did they want you to follow that? But where would they take you? Would they lead you astray, now that you were so far gone into their land, surely into their home?

Pouting slightly, you decided to put your faith in them this once—a chance to see what they would do. You had, after all, barely any other choice besides take your chances and die by frostbite, and a part of you didn’t want to be rude and ignore what you were sure was them attempting contact.

So you followed the lights, and followed them, and followed them, until the sun was lower in the sky and your heart felt uncertain again.

But then finally you saw it, the edge of the forest, the outskirts of your home. Your heart could only swell with relief, relief and unmatched curiosity. The Fae Folk… they clearly helped you, brought you back, hadn’t they? They lead you home.

Before leaving the forest entirely your steps slowed to a halt, and you turned back slightly. Your eyes took the scenery in, and you hoped they conveyed the gratitude you tried to express with a soft “thank you”, before taking off towards your house where Jimin awaited, surely worried.

Unbeknownst to you, coal eyes stared at your retrieving form as they always did, his interest in your behavior multiplied.

He always kept a watchful eye on you whenever you paid them a visit.

Early Spring.

Since that last time, your desire to know about the Fae Folk increased each passing day. You spent the long, unforgiving winter nights cuddled with your blankets and old journals passed down to your grandmother as Jimin snored away in the next room.

You were thankful for his constant presence, the loneliness being too much sometimes. But you had him, his worried eyes, and the visits from your other friends, Hoseok and Namjoon.

Once you returned that fated day in winter, you found them all around your small kitchen. They were quick to give you a blanket and hear the tale you were eager to tell. If they disapproved of your curiosity in the Folk, something already widely known, they didn’t show it.

And when you decided a few days later to search through your grandmother’s possessions in hopes of finding her mother’s arcane journals, they raised an eyebrow but let you be. As long as you always returned safe and sound, they all let you be. Jimin had made a point by personally staying with you more often then, out of concern, and you welcomed the company.

Currently you were reading theories and advice from your great grandmother on how to please the Fae. It seemed she was a fan of them, always attempting to communicate and welcoming them to her resting place.

“The Fae are mischievous, but appreciative of their home and all that it bounds to it,” the page you were reading began, “and so I’ve gathered enough information on plants that appear to encourage them to visit other places besides their trees. It is best if they are grown within a small space, maybe I should build a garden for them?”

The next few pages focused more on other topics, such as “Food: They seem to enjoy a grand variety of sweets, although some would rather taste the bitterness of other edibles. Conjuring up both kinds would be best, I believe, though I should have utmost care with the recipes.”

With a journal and a pen at hand you eagerly took notes, carefully choosing amongst the recipes and flowers named and drawn over the aging papers of your great grandmother’s book.

You were going to do just as she had. You were going to create a garden.

After finishing your list of Fae-garden requirements, the days turned a bit more hectic than usual. Jimin noted so too. Sending him out and about was rather odd of you, but it was decided as a last resort when your attention could simply not leave the kitchen or the gardening table at the back of the shop.

You spent hours tending to a patch of soil right in the corner of the backroom, right behind the workstation, squared off to tend to any special plants you could get your hands on previous to your sudden efforts. It looked more like a garden day by day after that, similar to the one Jimin and you were expanding and tending to in the back of the house, slowly but surely filled with bluebells and buttercups (for calling the Fae and for the ones to come to be compassionate and kind, according to your notes), as well as the ever attractive clovers, toadstools, lilacs and foxgloves, and even a sheltering fern. It grew quickly, too, as your eyes were always scanning the space and your voice constantly offered solace and company to the leaves. Jimin sometimes whispered to them when you weren’t looking, and had even become accustomed to the recollecting favors—not that he minded. You were safer home, and he was thankful for that.

Or, as safe as you could be. You were never the most talented when it came to matters of the kitchen, but it never did stop you from trying. Only once did Jimin and the boys come back to find a single piece of burnt bread, and you refused to think of that as a failure considering everything was still very much alive and standing (“thank you very much!”). Well, save for the bread. But still, it only fueled your determination.

Every afternoon you took to baking pastries and desserts, making the minutes before the shop closed what Jimin now happily called “dessert hour”. By the time he was finished closing up, whatever recipe you were trying out was seconds out the oven, and both of you gathered around the island to taste the confection of the day. Sometimes it did go wrong (Jimin had to learn to let you try it first lest his stomach and throat betray him one more time), but speaking to the blooming flowers inside the square perked you up right after. They loved hearing about your days, no matter their subsequent monotony.

Your skills had developed enough around the time the violets by the mushrooms began to bud. The February days had thinned out when a visually appealing (and hopefully equally tasting) Lemon & Thyme Cake became the current product of your love, dedication and hope. It took a good few hours, but you managed with newfound confidence in your hands, and you were eager to try it.

You couldn’t hide the shy smile that overtook your face as you cut the spongy yellow cake into pieces, serving some for Jimin and yourself on the plates you brought from the upstairs kitchen. He didn’t bite into it until after you ate a slice.

His eyes went wide. “Wow, this actually tastes pretty good!” he exclaimed, cheeks full, and you almost smacked him silly had it not been for how cute he looked. “Way better than last Wednesday’s strudel, too.”

“Right? Well, cake is easier to bake - but I’d like to think that pouring everything I have into it was the trick.” Not to say you hadn’t put all your effort into that apple strudel but, this cake had more purpose than just feeding you two or serving as just another practice batch. It was the result of one of the recipes from your book, the one you chose to leave as a food offering that day.

The younger boy chuckled as he took another bite, and to prevent any choking accidents (though there shouldn’t have been, considering it turned out rather moist), you poured two cups of the Elderberry wine you had been brewing since last spring and handed one to him.

He drank it rather eagerly, all satisfied grin and half moon eyes. “Poured everything, you say? Are you really sure? You mean every single spice in the pantry? Because, y’know, I’d really like to keep my insides intact, noona.”

“Har,” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, “har. What I mean is I poured my heart and soul into it after weeks of trying.”

“I know, I know.”

You shook your head at his antics but said no more, attention having gone to cutting a smaller piece of the confection. It was supposed to be the most attractive of treats to the Fae Folk, from what your great grandmother’s notes and attempts told, anyway, which made it indispensable in your own. In reality, you weren’t even sure it would work, unknowing if the folk changed their taste in a matter of years just as humans tend to do. But it was the only piece of information at your disposal, and therefore the only way forward.

With caution you placed both tea plate and cup of wine in the center of the square, and touched the crystal bell chimes Namjoon helped you hang from the little room’s ceiling. It’s done, you thought, going back to admire your work. Pretty.

Jimin had his eyes glued to your form, curious of your actions. When you decided to spend the days looking over those old books, no one said a thing, not even him. When you began sending him off on restocking duties, he nodded along because he thought you somehow feared going back after winter past. But seeing you dedicate yourself to a garden, and to putting food and wine as what was most definitely an offering, he couldn’t stop himself from prying. In an effort to look out of you, of course.

“Lily,“ he called. It was the nickname your father gave you for your love of the particular flower. “What are you doing?”

His words seemed to snap you out of a daze, and you jumped slightly at the sound before looking back at him. “Oh, just,” sucking in your lips, you briefly wondered if you should tell him. Jimin was your closest friend, trustworthy, a man of kindness built entirely humble despite his lonely upbringing. He also han interest in creatures outside the village grounds, though never on the Fae themselves as far as you were concerned. You decided it was best not keep secrets from him, and briefly explained. “I’m making a garden for the Fae.”

“For the Fae?” One of his eyebrows rose in confusion, but you saw no shame or anger behind his expression, and your heart turned lighter. You did the right thing.

“But, don’t they never leave their forest?”

Humming, you began cleaning up the mess on the work table. “So people say. But my great grandmother, you know, the one I always say was a witch?” Jimin nodded in reply, taking the empty cake plates and wine cups and waiting by the stairs for you. “Well, according to her books they do, but they need to be welcomed to one’s home.”

“And the fastest way to do that is building them a garden?”

After picking up the utensils and making sure everything was in working order, you looked to the garden one last time to make sure everything was well, and followed Jimin upstairs. “Yes. And to offer them treats they like.”

“But… aren’t the Fae Folk… small?”

You pursed your lips, suddenly wondering the same for a very brief moment before shaking your head. Remembering your trip, you concluded that if the shadow you saw by the forest was indication of their sizes, they were definitely not small. You humored him nonetheless. “Well, even if they are tiny, like you—”

Jimin turned to you like a whip. “Hey!! I am NOT—”

“—I’m sure they’ll appreciate the amount of food and drink I put for them,” you finished with a teasing smile.

“I’m not tiny—I'm—I’m taller than you,” he huffed, putting everything by the sink and watching as you began to wash the dishes. “I just meant, they say their sizes are…” to provide an example, he took his hands to make an invisible square the size of a lullaby box. “Teeny tiny.”

Giggles filled the room as you turned back to your task. Yes… those were the rumors. But no one had really seen a Fae in years, and everyone who had was long dead now. If there were any records of their interactions, none that you knew of were preserved. And thinking about it, not even your old books mentioned anything about size or height. You only had your peripheral as a sort of confirmation.

“Who knows, really,” you said, “Maybe they are, or maybe they’re not. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

You had high hopes for an encounter that very night, your mind wandering through all the ways it could go and all the questions that could be answered. How would they speak? Was it the same language? How did they look? Did they have wings? Were they tricksters? Would they be interested in you as you were in them?

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have had such high ones in such a short time, and on a first attempt.

You had to remind yourself, once the clock stroke 3 AM, that being in the right track did not equal immediate results, when suddenly a familiar chiming sound came ringing from downstairs.

It was faint, but your excitement hadn’t let you sleep peacefully, and combined with your light slumber, it was no surprise your eyes blinked open and your feet made to follow.

Silently as to not wake Jimin, you padded downstairs and onto the backroom, silent profanities leaving your lips whenever the old wood panels creaked below your feet.

You hadn’t made much noise at all, but the Fae must have sensitive ears, you concluded.

The garden was empty. A few toadstools were crooked, the flowers seemed to glow, and the chimes were still shivering, but no one was there.

But at least… the cake and the wine were tasted. Nothing more than inconspicuous bites littered the cake, but the cup was now halfway empty. You pouted at the realization you might have scared them away with your approach, but at least it was confirmed: you were on the right track, you were confident.

And yet as the days passed, most of the feeling chipped away.

You still baked, and you still tended and talked to the plants, and you still hoped, but only similar results remained. The offerings were taken, sometimes never fully, but their presence was never shared. Only the trails remained, the ghosts of a visit shown in the touched plants and resplandescent flowers.

After a week, Jimin (who had also caught on to the visitor’s tendencies) decided to intervene, not that he could do much but offer solace. He went to buy your favorite brand of sparkling water, put a blanket atop your cold shoulders and sat to talk in front of the hearth, just besides your form.

“Is there maybe something you overlooked in those books?” he asked, eyeing the leather bound pages open on your lap.

You were passing your fingers throughout the rough parchment pages when his words registered, but nothing clicked. “I don’t think so,” you sighed, “I’ve been through all of these, and they’re not all about the Fae. Great grandmother was a plant witch, so about 3 quarters of these are dedicated to that.”

“And those are the only ones she left?”

“Yes, well,” you passed a few pages on the properties of mandrakes, “these were the only ones grandmother kept. I think there was one more, but I vaguely remember her attempting something and burning off her eyebrow along with a book, so that might have been it?”

Jimin stifled a laugh and cleared his throat, noting it was best not to laugh at the mistakes of a dead woman. “Right.”

“She would have laughed too, don’t worry,” you chuckled, although your eyes never left the papers. She was the type to laugh at misery in the face, just so her frown didn’t worry others.

He shook his head. “Do you think that book might have had more information on the Fae?”

“No, all that she wrote on the Fae Folk was limited to this book here. It had a beginning and an end, and everything is here. She wrote somewhere that this was all the information she could recollect… and I’ve done everything?” I’ve already baked all there is here, and I’ve kept the garden clean and enchanting, but all that ever varies is the level of consumption.” You were less exasperated and more sullen at the facts finally laid out on the table. It was supposed to work, with every factor written reviewed and every possibility taken into consideration, and yet, why hadn’t it?

Jimin hummed in thought. “Maybe you can add plants to the garden that signify safety?”

You nodded, changing the pages towards the list of suggested plants for the garden again. “Maybe…” a sigh escaped your lips and Jimin frowned, “what else is there to do?”

While the question was more rhetorical, the younger boy decided to answer anyway. He certainly had… ideas.

“What if— what if we contact someone else?” His words caught your attention, and you furrowed your eyebrows once you noticed him biting his lip. He was nervous?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” his voice came as a whisper, “are you willing to contact another magic practitioner?”

“Another? But there’s no one else in our village, not anymore.”

“No,” he said, “not from here. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t others outside, near the North or to the East, or even Across the River.”

He was right. Living in the small village where you did often made you forget about the rest of the world. With the Fae Forest surrounding most of the terrain of your collective home, it was easy to lose oneself in the calm and mythless life everyone there ends up leading. But the world out there, it was different.

The highest village was known for its pact with Nightwalkers and Moon Howlers, and most others were home to Halflings and Dwarves. From what you’ve heard, that treaty remained to this day. And other talk told that the village nearest to the River was no stranger to the creatures swimming inside it. You knew not much besides those generalities and stories, though.

Villages were more often than not separated one from another, and information about their standings only came around twice a month—unless an emergency occurred.

From the January news you could tell that humans still reigned amongst them, just like in years past. The other beings, while crossing and redrawing the amicable line humans drew between them, mostly opted to home their own lands in surrounding areas, very much like your and Jimin’s hometown.

This sometimes caused reality to become myth, not unlike what happened with the Fae Folk, and especially so in remote villages. If there was no interaction, and if there was no explicit presence, humans were quick to discard facts and turn to a life of ignorance. The South, for example, most likely did not deal with any sort of Fae, and neither did their thoughts. That was simply the way of life they chose.

The same happened to magic and its practitioners, although they were more common amongst all.

It all made your heart ache, knowing you’d likely never encounter any of them, never validate their existence, but you were just one and you couldn’t do much but keep living where you were.

“But… how? And who? I’ve never left this place, I don’t know any other practitioners.”

“No, but there are witches on the village North of the Great Lake,” he said, “Namjoon hyung has mentioned it.”

You sometimes forgot how knowledgeable that man was. Without other factors he was far beyond his years, but with his job, he was as wise as any witch or any Elven. His near eidetic memory helped, as well.

Namjoon was a messenger, a News Traveler for the villages. Perhaps collectively, you mused, he had seen more than the eyes of the whole village combined. He often went away for two weeks or so, and stayed home for a month while other groups of News Travelers began carrying out their duties. Whenever he came back he had stories for days, no matter the distance of his predetermined route. You figured it was during one of those instances that he mentioned the fact to Jimin.

His favorite ventures included the more advanced and populated villages, where creatures were more welcome and both their inclusion and the whispers of the arcane were open to congenial discussion. You couldn’t ever deny your jealousy over that sort of freedom, of seeing and speaking to anything not human and wary of difference.

“He says he’s heard the village in the West side of the River talk about witches from the North of the Great Lake, which means the ones by the Northern Lights should still be alive and active, too.”

His words were quick to catch your interest, and your ears perking up at the specific choice of words. Jimin had never spoken to you about things beyond village borders, notwithstanding his eagerness for Namjoon’s stories and late night ramblings. He was always concerned with his own job, or with your shared friends, or with joking about the villagers within the borders. Raising an eyebrow, you questioned, “Northern Lights? Still?”

He was quick to offer a sheepish smile, but his eyes remained on his fumbling hands. “I…” His loose shirt suddenly seemed very interesting to him, and noting the hesitation, you moved your eyes back to the book to take away the pressure of your stare. You didn’t want to push him to say anything, even though he did start it himself.

Already you passed the suggested plants once more, and the colorless sketches and instructions of your great grandmother came into view. She drew a pretty mean sunflower cake.

“Before she died, my mother sent me here and I’ve been an orphan ever since. But you already knew that. It’s just… my mother, she - she was half Elven.”

You took a few seconds to respond, shock resonating through you. “Half Elven?” You blinked. Honestly, you should have known, that everlasting baby face of his should have sign enough. “You’re half Elven?”

Jimin’s smile was small, his hand coming to part his hair and showing you his ear. From far away it had the roundness of any human’s, but once you looked closely, very closely, you could see the top dipping into a ghostly point. It was barely noticeable at all, and had you not been looking for it, you might have lived the rest of your life not knowing about it. “Sort of,” he confessed, “though it’s more thin blood than anything.”

Your big, wondrous eyes had him laughing shortly after, definitely filled with more questions that you could contain and yet deciding to store them to another time, for when he felt like he could tell you more about it.

“We can talk about it some other time,” he promised, as if reading your mind, “it’s not a big deal—”

The look you gave him had his small hands reaching out to pinch your cheeks, and you slapped them away lightly. “I mentioned it because that’s where my mother was from. I don’t remember much else, but… that place, sometimes it visits me, understand?”

You did. Jimin would spend a lot of his time helping around the shop, but what was left went to either dancing or visiting the other boys and sharing jokes, or sleeping. And for some reason unknown to you and himself, he always managed to dream about something every single night. The next afternoon he’d tell you how x or y person or x or y place visited him in his dreams. It was alike what your great grandmother wrote about soul-projection, now that you thought about it, and you made a point to read more about it eventually.

Nodding along, you went back to the book, the pages having thinned out considerably. “But why mention it? Elven are not— oh!”

You hurriedly put the book in front of your bodies, hands trembling with renewed excitement as you pointed to a small paper no bigger than a matchbox, a sort of memo, previously folded and attached to a side of one of the last illustrations. It was the same kind and age, inconspicuous only in its thinness and how flattened time had made it.

“This,” you pointed to the arcane symbols littering the piece, their ink seeming to fade at the ends. “This is Elvish, isn’t it?” You were then thankful for your grandmother’s arcane language lessons and talks (that and stories of the Fae Folk were her favorite to tell, albeit she herself denied dabbling into anything outside tales, much like her mother so she said). Even when you yourself retained zero practical knowledge, you could at least identify all of the most relevant ones.

Realization hitting him, Jimin nodded enthusiastically at the new find. “Yes,” His body left your side for an instant to come back with paper and pen, and you watched attentively as he began drawing the symbols on the new surface, hand gliding effortlessly, as if he knew it all by heart. “I’ve barely any knowledge of it, though.”

You hummed in acceptance, knowing there was no way he could have retained his mother’s tongue after being so many years parted from it, from her. That, and the conversations about the different languages out there with Namjoon in Hoseok’s library flooded your mind. He must have been interested in learning about it now that he could.

“Maybe Hoseok has books we can use?” you offered, eyes captivated by the difference in elegance between his lines and the ones from your great grandmother. His lineage was oddly evident in the little things, now that you thought about it.

After making sure everything was precisely mimicked, he folded the paper and handed it to you.

“Maybe. But I think we’re better off speaking with Namjoon, since he knows an Elven.”

Getting a hold of a News Traveler was never difficult, per se. It was more of a waiting game. Thankfully, luck seemed to be on your favor, or maybe it was Jimin's—you couldn’t tell anymore after finding out about his lineage. Around three mornings after your discovery, word had come in that Namjoon, along with his trusty bike, had returned for the month, and despite wanting to give the man some breathing room, you still dragged Jimin along to pay a visit.

It turned out to be a rather long one this time around. He told you of new movement from the Night Walkers, and that apparently the Merfolk of the Deep Lake were seen more towards the shores of the nearest village. Peculiar, but you were more interested in the beings inside the forest to be more inquisitive about other matters.

You thought it cute how your question about Elvish was taken with as much child-like wonder as you expected. After a quick explanation about your Fae-Folk-welcoming and your books, Namjoon took the paper to gaze at it with curiosity. He wasn’t precisely fluent, but he explained he knew an Elven from the North that was always willing to teach him certain scripts and meanings during his visits. He wasn’t able to translate the whole sentence, but could make out the words “coffea” and “leaves,” and quite frankly that was enough for your heart to swell in excitement and hope again.

That same night you paid an extra visit to the garden in the back of the house, grabbed a few coffea leaves with silent apologies between your lips, and stacked them neatly behind the toadstools inside the backroom. You thought it a bit odd, though. By the amount of sweets in your great grandmother’s suggestion list, you guessed Fae Folk were more attracted to that type of taste. Coffea leaves were… rather bitter, even for you, but you shrugged it off nonetheless. Maybe the Folk did vary their taste just as humans did.

Sleep came easy that night after that, much unlike the first time your trial and error began, though who could blame you. Between the newfound determination and the rollercoaster of emotions you went through, lost hours were bound to catch up with you even if in the most inconvenient times. By the way the bed felt softer than ever, even the universe knew you were meant to go on for a few good hours, if only a resonating whisper from your dreams and a persistent feeling of thirst hadn’t woken you in the middle of the night. Typical with your light sleep, though annoying and really hard to get rid of, even with your herbs.

Sighing and hoping to go back as soon as possible, your hand shot out to an empty nightstand and a shiver ran up your spine.

A shadow fell by your beside, you could feel it, but you couldn’t see it, and the presence went away before you could even pinpoint it. It wasn’t at all like the blending of shadows from your outings. This time you couldn’t see it because it simply vanished, replaced by dust. Frowning and rubbing your eyes, you decided not to question it before heading to grab a cup of water. No memory, no fight or flight response. Just thirst. The house was protected by your great grandmother and the witches before her, anyway, or so you told yourself. Your throat needed water.

If Jimin were awake he would definitely call you a zombie, with your eyes partially closed and walk all slow all the way to the kitchen and the fridge. It was laughable, your pitter-patter and your mind blank as it usually turned at that hour. Jimin’s laugh at your expense was what usually brought clarity to your mind in the mornings, shaking you out of your stupor after the constant of it throughout the years, but he never woke this early. Instead, the pair of eyes watching you from behind the island did the trick, and you stopped right in your tracks.

“Would you do me the favor of brewing some tea?”

Your body stiffened, more alert than ever before as your gaze took him in and your mind slowly unraveled his words.

Tea. He wanted— A he, with eyes entirely ink and lashes putting yours to shame. And he wanted tea. Coffea leaf tea. Right.

“Uh—” clearing your throat, you nodded almost meekly, unsure of your voice with how dry that sounded and the racing thoughts going through your head. You could only mustered the will to answer after you drank a cup of your sparkling water and turned off your internal red lights. All throughout, you felt his gaze glued to your form. “Yeah, yes of course.”

The Fae nodded and pushed the leaves towards your side of the counter, waiting. You set up the kettle and focused on the metal pot just so your eyes didn’t stray to his form, to stare unabashedly like you wanted desperately to do. No, you maintained a sense of civility and strayed from rudeness, at least a little bit. It was a hard thing to do when the Fae’s aura practically screamed at others to pay attention to details, and he had so many.

When you peeked for a good few seconds, you could visualize why the shadow had blended in that one time—if, if the Fae was even the same one.

His silver hair bordered on white, softly tousled and (desirably) velvety to the touch, falling around his face to give an aura of delicate nobility. Around the top, a warm brown gathered in a makeshift circlet of small dots, alike the pale butterfly wings of the ones commonly seen inhabiting the forest. His skin was an ivory tone, but it seemed to glow even under the faint, crooked lightbulb that hung from your ceiling, and complemented his white billowy shirt. Even his dark eyebrows and pierced ears proved to reinforce his status as creature more attune with magic than anything other than so. Not that you’ve ever seen a creature that was non-human before him (Jimin didn’t exactly count), but his etherealness was unmistakable—even amongst his own kind he would stick out, surely.

“What’s your name?” you asked, finding enough courage along the way to trust yourself a bit more, and to shift your gaze to him again.

His face was resting on his palm, expression telling of his decision.

“That is delicate information.”

You nodded in agreement, understanding the precaution of telling a stranger your name, moreso a human stranger in his case, even if absurdly comical considering he asked for you to make him tea. Still, names could be used for rituals, for cursing, for hexes and chants. He didn’t know if you could do any of those particularly well, but maybe being used to dealing with his kind made him highly precautious, if whispers of mischievousness were any true.

“So you won’t tell me who I’m doing a favor for?” you tried again. He said nothing but raised an eyebrow.

“Alright. How about we exchange our names, then?”

Fascination coursed through you as you took in the way his pointed ears twitched slightly, his lips curling up.

“Interesting proposal. I’ll think about it.”

You rolled your eyes at his precaution, saying no more as to keep from pestering him after being denied twice. Picking up your favorite teacup, you settled for serving him the tea and putting the kettle besides his cup. You nibbled on your lip when you saw him clink the spoon around. Usually, you would offer him honey, but with some more thought you decided against it. What brought him to your home was the bitterness of the leaves, not the sweetness of the cake or the wine.

To give yourself something to do, you began to clean around the already tidy kitchen, moving your arms around to swipe the surface and move utilities while trying to find something to say. Maybe something that didn’t quite involve your inquisitive nature, though that proved really hard. You wanted to ask, to see, to learn about the differences way beyond the obvious physical traits. Could he fly? Did the Fae Folk use conventional magic like practitioners use? If it were just a little bit later, your mind might have been able to properly ask them, but seeing as it was too early for everything —including a caffeinated drink—, you stayed quiet all throughout.

He finished his cups (he refilled it, twice) in proper timing, when sleep was beginning to grab you by the ankles, and you stared at the empty piece of porcelain in thought. Everything felt very convenient, altered in a way suggestive of his will, if that made sense. He arrived and you woke, and he’s close to leaving and you’re welcomed to sleep again. Or maybe it was nothing but you hazily overthinking around the comfortable but steady silence that enveloped the kitchen, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask about that, eventually.

His chuckle brought you out of that stupor, and your cheeks burned slightly at having him witness your sluggishness.

“Thank you, for the tea.” His voice was smooth and warm, and somehow also verging on teasing. He stood up when you whispered a “you’re welcome.”

Your eyes widened, “W-wait,” panic fighting with drowsiness. You couldn’t help but stop him in his tracks, suddenly abhorred at how you’d done nothing but make him tea and ask for his name and nothing else. You even stared a little bit, and— “I… I imagined you different.” That… didn’t come out right, but you held back the flinch that came with it. You wanted him to come back at another time, not offend him. Though if he was, he showed no sign of it, which at least took away the uneasiness in your chest.

The way he eyed you amusedly, stars in his vast stare as you’d never seen before in the little time he’s graced you with his presence, also helped.

“Are you disappointed, little human?”

“No,” you breathed out hurriedly, certain but so quick your cheeks grew red in fluster.

Your curiosities about the Fae Folk were just that, blanks that you wanted them—him to fill somehow, far more than anything, and what wasn’t blank were the differences in your head more in tune with your great grandmother’s notes and hopeful day dreaming, really. You hadn’t expected much, imagined much, but you guessed maybe more mischievousness and deal making and maybe even wings were in the unconsciously expected mix. It wasn’t bad he seemed different, though. Then again, it was only the first visit.

He must have taken your response as a surprise, because his eyes widened before he could control it, and his smile made your skin prick, a newfound feeling surfacing and making you shiver.

“You’re like your ancestor.”

What?

You opened your mouth instinctively, your body acting faster than your mind as you processed the words. You were almost ready to ask him what he meant by that, ask if he had any connection to your great grandmother. Yet before your vocal chords could function accordingly, he vanished, only smoke and sparkling dust left behind.

You tried looking around, feet taking you to where he stood mere moments ago and hands clutching your nightgown in confusion, but upon finding nothing physical to the touch, a heavy sigh replaced your unsaid words instead. And instantly, your body felt the weight of the hours and the visit on your shoulders.

With the knowledge that he would definitely not visit again for the night, your legs half-heartedly dragged you to your room automatically. Your heart sunk along with your body under the plush covers, the too short interaction already turning sluggish in your memory while the bed too alluring. You didn’t dream of anything after shutting your eyes.

And once morning came, you became unsure if it was a dream or reality.

No answer came until your next trip to the forest.

The cold wind passing through the village had thinned out. It was merely cool morning and refreshing afternoons now, the trees having already regained their greenery and the flowers in pink bloom. The sole path you took towards the forest was lonely as ever, but the vibrant colors of the newborn plants brought a smile to your face and a light skip to your step.

Tending to the garden for a whole month had left you with little time to venture out when you also had to man and look after the shop most days. You tried your best in accompanying Jimin during his shifts, as well. He hated being alone for long periods of time just as much as you did, so it was unavoidable.

There was also the matter of sending him out for errands or quick run-ins to search for certain plants as you carefully practiced and took care of the Fae welcoming garden.

It was no surprise for the younger boy when you woke up eager to go out that morning, hoping to see the familiar trees and curves along the forest path and trying to control your jittery feet. While you didn’t have to tell him, you knew he was much aware of the other reason you wanted out. You didn’t even make an effort to conceal the warm thermos inside your messenger bag.

In truth, a week had passed since the early morning visit, and not even the coffea leaves had done the trick. You had started to think that maybe it was all a part of your head, but your heart denied the thought as fiercely as possible, tugging you out to the woods to try, and try, and try, if needed.

Your need for restocking on thyme was very real, too. The transition of the seasons had brought about fits of cough here and there as it always did, and without fail (despite all your efforts) all had been used or sold to that very day. Seeing as the spring still had its tight clutch upon the weather, you thought it a perfect opportunity to try a hand in crafting the different remedies for cough and other minor ailments yourself, also as a way to encourage yourself to begin building for a proper apothecary. Beginning small was good, and you took advantage of the growing amount of sunlight.

You dressed lightly that morning, with a thin hooded jacket Jimin had draped over your shoulders in worry, and you silently thanked him when a chilly breeze passed through and encouraged the trees to dance softly. You let your eyes travel to them, more towards the sky than forward in your steps, while your hands clutched your messenger bag closer to your body. Hopefully the thermos kept warm enough until you reached…wherever.

One thing you were sure to remember later was how light the Fae Folk seemed to be on their feet, or at least him specifically. Combined with your attention being on the shaking leaves and the bright petals, transfixed on the subtle movements of bigger yet smaller things, it was no surprise you didn’t hear his approach. The hair on the back of your neck rose—you could feel his presence, but before you made sense of it, your back was pressed against something solid, warmth radiating right through and putting the jacket to shame. You jumped slightly at the contact, and a low tone caressed your ears.

“Little human, what are you looking for?”

The voice was the same, and it washed away any doubt you had that it wasn’t him, the same Fae you wished to see again. Maybe it was an effect of what he was, or maybe it was simply that it was him particularly, but his voice practically lulled your shoulders to an ease, and you had to fight the urge to not lean back on his chest. Like a spell, you answered truthfully, and without hesitation.

“For thyme.”

You could feel his chest tremble with a chuckle, and you scolded yourself internally for not even questioning what he found amusing, but rather focusing on how nice it felt.

“It grows on the ground, you know. Not the trees.”

His teasing nature sparked a roll of your eyes.

“I’m much aware, Mr. Smarty Pants.”

“And yet you look at the trees and the skies,” he countered, shifting to stand in front of you, eyebrow curious. “Instead of the ground by your feet.”

Seeing him more clearly this time, with the sun shining on his silver locks and falling into the dark depths of his eyes, you practically gaped in awe. His lashes danced atop his cheekbones whenever he blinked, a soft contrast to the black scleras, and you were utterly captivated. He looked both ethereal and deadly should he choose to be, even when he stood only a few inches above you.

When you offered no immediate answer he broke out in a smile, stars inside his eyes. You blinked furiously and cleared your throat, mentally praying he took no offence of what you tried so hard to avoid that one morning, or that you were saved of words that fueled your already very rosy cheeks. You made to speak before he could even attempt that, though, just in case.

“I was admiring—” his smile grew further, gummy and far cuter than you had imagined in the little time you had to think about it, “—admiring spring. I—I haven’t been to the woods in quite some time.”

“I know.”

He what?

“How—”

“You, and the man that works with you, are the only people to ever venture out into our home.”

He began moving eastward as he spoke, footsteps like bells and pace telling you to follow. You did.

“Ji—” you caught yourself from saying the name of your best friend, suddenly wary of how name exchanges were special to the Fae. You gulped before changing the subject, far from smoothly, though he did not comment on it. “So… you watch? All—eh, some of you?”

“We feel you a mile away. But I, myself, just keep a lookout. Wouldn’t want you to get lost now, wouldn’t we?”

You mulled his words over carefully, wondering if he spoke truths or mistruths about his people’s tendencies. You couldn’t quite tell, but you believed him nonetheless, deciding to nudge elsewhere and keep those questions for a later time. You didn’t mind waiting, as long as you could secure the answers some other time.

“Last winter, was that—was that you?”

He tilted his head back to give you a look—curiosity kept flashing before his eyes, but it was with something else you couldn’t quite identify. He didn’t even answer, not until he stopped walking. You came to a stop beside him, and the sight before you almost made you throw yourself onto him. Almost.

“Yes.”

The sunlight showered the small clearing in beams and golden dust, the air humid and fresh. Sprouting thyme was everywhere, bright dewdrops scattered around its evergreen leaves, a remnant of light rain from the night before, no doubt. The whole area looked untouched, as if no human foot had ever come close to it, and while your chest swelled at the idea of having been special enough to show such a place, you couldn’t help but wonder why. Why did he go against every tale, however close to the truth it was? Asking him was out of your plans, though. For the time being, at least, you decided to indulge into what was given to you, as long as you had permission.

“Are you sure I can take these? It feels awfully like disturbing the peace…”

“I brought you here for a reason,” he answered, corner of his lips twitching to a faint smile once more. “Thank you for asking, but there’s no need.”

You nodded in response, about to step forward when his fingers grazed your shoulder, warm in their scarcity even then. He took them back when your eyes drifted to him, and you had to suppress a pout at the lack of touch. This startled you, although you didn’t show it. Why your reactions to a being you had only met once before was like this was unknown to you, it scared you to think more about it then. Thankfully (or was it, really?) he distracted you with more unspoken questions as he asked his own.

“You brought me something, haven’t you?”

“Ah! Y—yes, how’d you— Oh, nevermind,” you huffed in embarrassment, your hand going to find the sleek black thermos within your bag and offering it to him. “Just in case you wanted more tea. You can always bring it back to me if you want it refilled.”

The Fae blinked a few times, surprised at your words, but took it carefully and with a strong grip.

Knowing he might not say much else, you decided asking was worth a shot.

“You’re always welcome in our little house, Mr…?”

But he only smirked at your attempt.

“Maybe next time, little human. Don’t get lost on the way back.”

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was all smoke and Fae dust again. You could only sigh, and go finish the other task you ventured out to do.

By midday, a few hours and a successful trip back later (you had no idea where the clearing was in the first place, so you thought maybe he kept an eye on you as you trudged onwards since you made it back safely), Jimin had to run and help you with the new size of your bag. He was dumbfounded at the amount within your possession, but mirrored your happiness once you told him your set goals. You were most definitely going to begin brewing for the future Apothecary, starting immediately.

The ‘next time’ the Fae had mentioned occurred sooner than you expected. It happened during the time of day you set aside for practicing general cooking, an hour before sundown and around the time the shop closed.

Your hands were busy mashing some potatoes when slivers of bell chimes were carried all the way to your ears from the Fae garden downstairs, and your mind instantly went to the male you had encountered twice until then. You wondered how he was, if he enjoyed the tea or let it run cold, or if he would return. You couldn’t help but want him to. The garden you had spent your efforts on was a general offering for all of his kind, not a … right, you knew not even his name. Either way, it wasn’t a him garden as far as you knew. He couldn’t be the only Fae that could get curious enough to visit the house, the math said so (not that you were exceptionally good at math). Yet something about him made your spine tingle in an addicting kind of way. He was secretive but he seemed nice enough, breathtakingly beautiful too. Wanting to see him again was natural, wasn’t it?

Pouting, you left the pot of potatoes on the stove to look for plates, when a soft thunk replaced the softer sounds from before, and you almost dropped the ceramic dishes with the speed at which you turned.

Black stared at you with curiosity like he always had so far, dark eyebrow raised. He was sitting on top of your island counter, arms besides his folded legs, and briefly, panic struck you. Had he read your mind? Could even do that? Fae Folk used magic, certainly. But—

“Okay, the shop is officially closed and—oh,” Jimin’s words fell to a meek silence, halfway frozen atop the staircase that led from the shop to the kitchen.

The Fae, who had his eyes trained on you, shifted them briefly to the dark haired boy only to watch him rub his own as if trying to make sure the sight before him wasn’t a dream.

“You’re—”

“A visitor,” you finished quickly, but it seemed to go unheard as he continued on regardless.

“You’re a Fae, aren’t you?”

The male in question turned his attention back to you instead, however, the corners of his lips threatening to curve upwards as he pinned you to the spot. Your cheeks went red at his stare, suddenly self-conscious and desperately trying to keep your mind blank of any thoughts of him.

“What gave it away?” he asked, but you were unsure to whom exactly.

He was teasing, obvious in the answer that everyone in the room knew. Just in case, and not trusting yourself, you let Jimin speak as he moved.

“Pretty much everything, eyes especially” he began, pointing to the pitch black gaze of the Fae, when amusement suddenly painted his cheeks, “and the height.”

“Hey!” You pinched him at the comment, very aware of his implications. When had Jimin turned so cheeky it was beyond you.

“With that criteria, are you so sure you aren’t a Fae yourself?”

Jimin stilled in his movement, then crossing his arms and uttering out a soft “whatever” as he pouted indignantly from besides you, opting for ignoring the fire tongued guest in favor for looking at the mashed potatoes and the chicken you had proudly managed not to burn to a crisp.

A giggle escaped you at the quick back and forth between them, and you patted his shoulder for comfort (he hated to be reminded of his less than average stature in comparison to much of the village, save for yourself) until you noticed the object that had made you turn around in the first place.

Besides the Fae’s tight clothed thigh stood the thermos you had given him, certainly empty. Look at the thermos, not his thigh, look at the thermos, not his thigh.

“Can you hand me that?” you asked.

He did as told, attention solely on you as you shifted around the kitchen to get the kettle working and the bottle clean. You would pour him a cup at the moment, but send him off with more tea before he went away.

“Do you want to eat with us?” you offered after putting the new cup besides him, moving to keep busy and not look at him directly. You couldn’t bring yourself to it, knowing he might reject the offer, or even be gone as quickly and quietly as he often did around you. You wanted him to stay, to ask about him, but you didn’t know what he liked, and you refused to show your hopeful gaze. Instead, you went to help Jimin serve two plates of mashed potatoes and chicken on the other side of the island. By the subtle clinking and gulps, you could at least tell he was drinking the tea.

“Hm, I accept,” he answered, “just the potatoes though.”

Minutes later he sat besides Jimin and you on the small dining table by the wall, his eating pace slow. He was scrutinizing you both, and on more than one occasion you had to give up on the staring contest that started every time your eyes settled on him, your cheeks flaming and his smirk growing.

Jimin was content on eating and eyeing the interaction, clearly too hungry to exert his energy elsehow.

“Why’d you raise the garden?” he asked, and you paused your spoon mid-way in surprise. He was the one with the questions now, turning everything around and getting a head start. Maybe it was best that way. You didn’t know when to stop walking on eggshells around him just to keep him coming back, but this seemed incentive enough to do otherwise.

“I—” you gulped at the way his eyes didn’t falter, “just wanted to come into contact with one of your kind.”

Not even once. “Why, exactly?”

You hummed as you swallowed your next bite, thinking of how to answer him without sounding naive. You couldn’t find a way, so you settled with a simple, and a bit embarrassing, “just… for selfish reasons.”

He didn’t seem surprised at your words, but rather stayed silent and egged you on.

“I have lots of questions, and no one had seen any of you properly in years and, well,” you tried again, “I wanted to see how far from the rumors you guys are…”

The Fae scrunched his nose, mirth glazing over his features, and you weren’t sure at what. You could almost swear golden Fae dust fell from his hair when he rested his head on the palm of his hand, but it was gone before it settled anywhere near the table or his empty plate.

“So,” he drawled, “you’re sure we’re all unlike your people’s tell-tales?”

“You implied so yourself just now, didn’t you?” you countered, and the way he narrowed his eyes at you had you shuffling in your seat, nevermind how you found no threat in them even after all you said.

“I did. But the stories aren’t baseless. Not all of them, anyway.”

“I, for one, whoreheartedly expected wings.” Jimin, already having finished his dinner, finally joined in with a jab, leaning to the side from his seat in a lazy attempt to look at the Fae’s back before returning to his previous position. He had already seen his wingless back, but one could never be too sure. Maybe they were hidden, or something along those lines.

The Fae’s lips twitched at his actions, though you weren’t sure if it was out of annoyance or playfulness. “I expected you to have pointier ears, halfling descendent.”

The word echoed in your head for a few seconds, “Halfling?” you repeated, only to have Jimin continue with the query and stealing the words right out of your mouth.

“How’d you know that?”

For a second the male looked confused himself, as if questioning the reason behind the reactions, but the look didn’t last, a lopsided smirk settling into place.

“Magic recognizes magic, no matter how very faint it is.”

Jimin nodded, and you couldn’t help but stare in both interest and a nagging sense of loss. No matter how much you knew of him and his life, you remembered there was a part completely unknown to you until a few days ago. It took a long chat before bedtime for him to tell you most of what he knew—which was little more than fragmented memories and sensations that came and went—and you were thankful that it took no proding (not that you intended to prod). Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you truly did not know the boy you grew up playing with as much as you thought you did. Your chest ached further at the thought that he, too, probably did not know most parts of himself either.

“And you,” the Fae continued, his voice bringing you back to the matter, “you might not have the same type in you, but your affinity towards it is there. Because of your ancestor.”

“My great grandmother?” you echoed, remembering his words during those forsaken hours in the morning (and briefly making a mental note to ask about Fae age). “You met her back then?”

He hummed in confirmation, gaze shifting to the rest of your body before settling back on your face. It was making your blood run hot with embarrassment, suddenly uneasy and self-conscious of your body, of your clothes, and for what you were unsure—for all you know he might be comparing you to your great grandmother, which was more believable than thinking he was appreciating your body. But there was a part of you that wished he did, and it unsettled you. You didn’t even know his name.

“Yes. She often welcomed my people into her home, back when she was few years older than you. We watched her work,” he confessed, his voice turning softer at the memory, until it dipped in something sour, “and we also watched how her own people turned against her and others that practiced witchcraft alike. She was the last to contact us—properly, that is. We stopped coming after she swore to break her ties to magic.”

The history of your great grandmother’s time was not new to you, having heard it already from your father and your grandmother years before, and neither was the pain your clenching jaw felt whenever you heard it, nor the following tightness in your chest at how unfair it all was. You couldn’t help but feel the aching guilt, either, belonging and living with the very people that thought and acted like their own ancestors, fearing what was different or shutting themselves off from what they didn’t understand and never bothered to in the first place. Some were different, you knew. There were some more inclined to their curious side and ancestry, like Namjoon and Hoseok, for example, but for the most part everything stayed the same within the village.

In a way, you envied him. He had met her when she was at her peak, he actually spoke to her. All you were left with were stories of her affinity and quirks—the same ones your grandmother and father saw in you, the ones you lacked someone to share them with.

The frown that settled on your face was genuine - you didn’t even fight it, and had you not looked away to find words to say, you wouldn’t have missed the way it made his gaze softened.

“I—I can’t change other people’s views on things, but for me—for us, at least it can be different. Thank you,” you stammered out quietly, “for taking the chance to visit.”

“Well,” he said, moving an arm to rest behind his chair and tracing patterns on the wooden table with his long, delicate fingers. His voice ripped your eyes away from them seconds after. “You practically screamed.”

“All she did was build a garden and bake for you—that was enough?” Jimin piped in, latching on to his last words.

The Fae shifted in his position, dismissing him with a simple “we have our own fixations” as if it explained anything. If you knew more about him you’d have sworn he was partially embarrassed by the way his ears flattened briefly, instead you steered the conversation elsewhere.

“Are you the only one that dared to come?”

“We’ve long since had our own matters to deal with, much aren’t interested in dealing with your kind in these parts any longer,” he answered.

You thought so as well, but you couldn’t help but wonder why had he been the only one to come your way. Why at all?

“Why did you visit me, though? Not that—” your jolted with alarm at your own words, your cheeks flaming and your hand going to tuck loose strands behind your ear. “Not that I don’t want you to visit— I do—I mean, I’m just wondering…”

Jimin cooed at your agonizingly cute behaviour, his hands flying to grab your cheeks and pull on them lightly just to annoy you. You swatted at his chubby hands and tried telling him to stop but it was effortless, nothing could stop him until he was satisfied. Even with all the muttering and swaying, though, you managed to see the gummy grin adorning the other male’s face and your pulse quickened at the pretty sight. Did he wink?

When you finally got Jimin’s hands off your cheeks and whined out your last ‘stoooop,’ you weren’t sure if you spoke to him or your own sprinting heartbeat.

“I already told you,” the Fae said after the other boy settled, “I keep a lookout around these parts of our home. You can say my job is alike your human… guards.”

You blinked. Right, he mentioned that when you were in the forest.

“So, were you visiting to make sure it was safe? Or are you the only Fae that keeps a lookout here, therefore the only one curious enough to come here?”

He chuckled. “You’re the one that’s awfully curious, actually. How many questions do you have, exactly?”

Pouting, you looked back at your unfinished chicken to avoid any more embarrassment, only taking glances at his incessant shape tracing fingers. What was he even doing?

“I—”

“Probably a lot, knowing her,” Jimin answered with a fond smile before eyeing the silver haired male up and down. “You don’t mind, though, do you? ”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I’m rather amused. But we’ll have to leave it for another time.”

Your heart sunk a little at the implication, and you tried not to dwell on it. “You’re leaving?”

“Already?”

The Fae nodded, gazing one last time at the place his fingers drew upon, where thin silver lines shone only briefly before dying out and leaving no trace.

“What—what was that?” you asked, leaning on the table to see the now empty spot.

“Was it a sigil?” Jimin suggested, following your actions and poking the wood with an awed gaze.

“It’s to let my kind know it’s safe here, a refuge if they’re ever in these parts.”

“Oh.”

He then stood up, and you automatically began stacking the plates in a pile to take them to the kitchen, remembering the tea. Jimin helped with the cups but stopped by the island to turn to the Fae with a tease hanging from his tongue.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, even if you did insult my height. But I forgive you.”

You trailed behind your friend, missing the Fae’s playful eye roll at the jab, just to return with the black thermos he brought to you, now full of the tea he unabashedly enjoyed.

“Take this,” you offered, “You already know you can come back whenever.”

His fingers grazed yours when he grabbed it, a phantom touch all warm and electrifying, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless gasp. Once more you were unsure if your body reacted the way it did because of what he was, or if it happened simply because it was him. Both answers scared you all the same. Though the soft curl of his lips made a tiny part of you hope for the latter.

“Thank you—”

You interrupted, damning all the warnings of keeping your name unknown to offer another sense of safety. “Y/N. My name is Y/N. But my friends call me Lily.”

“I know,” he confessed with mirth, “don’t worry too much, though. I won’t hex you, or trick you all that often. Consider it me paying respects to your ancestor.”

“You knew?” you squeaked, “wait, ‘all that often’?”

“What? Noona, I told you my rings were moving and disappearing last week!” Jimin practically screeched from the kitchen sink, turning to you and then narrowing his eyes at the other male. “That was you, wasn’t it!” Jimin accused more than asked, pouting with furrowed brows as if grievously annoyed. You knew better, though. He always found his rings anyway. Well, most of them.

“I already told you we have our fixations,” the Fae replied, deep chuckles escaping at the memory. “I’m not to blame, little Jimin. Though I wouldn’t say no if you want to bargain for them.”

You rolled your eyes at the quip while Jimin mumbled another whiney, defeated “no thank you!”, not even surprised he knew his name as well, and not falling for any bargaining traps either. His heart couldn’t take another hit to his stature, the pain enough to overpower any attention he could have given to the Fae’s offer.

Just before said creature turned to smoke and dust again, the Fae winked and spoke once more.

“If it makes you both feel better, my name is Yoongi.”

And then he was gone.

The next day there were whispers of how Mrs. Young’s little boy almost get lost in the woods trying to search for his bouncy ball. He appeared asleep on the edges of the forest, with no memory of his trek between the oaks and pines, and absolutely no sign of his toy.

Yoongi.

His name rolled off your tongue easily, tasting and dripping like warm honey. You tended not to say it, but rather think about it lest you were willing to withstand your housemate’s teasing. But sometimes, more often than not, when the name slipped from your lips in sudden desires of hearing it, it… called to him.

You weren’t sure how it worked, if he could hear you or sense you saying it or if he was always magically nearby to hear it. You just knew not to fight it.

The first time it happened was during a late morning in March. You were running the shop that day, offering out the new brews you managed to concoct effectively and tending to some other purchases while Jimin cleaned the workstation at the back. All it took were a few distracting seconds straight after a customer had left for you to busy yourself with thoughts of the Fae. And you said his name, and then seconds after, he was there.

You immediately panicked, running towards the front to put one of your “taking a break” signs and facing him with eyes wide as saucers. Was he crazy?

Mischief sparkled in his eyes as always, Fae dust falling from his fingers with a lazy wave. He was crossed-legged besides your cheap register, and fully aware he had appeared unannounced yet again, and in the shop during working hours, when customers came and went like a pendulum. He didn’t seem to care.

That day you learned the Fae had their own language, much like any other line of creature, and additionally knew common tongue in case of any interaction they had with others. Upon Jimin’s insistency he was also willing to admit the Fae had two forms: the human sized form he always presented himself with, and a much smaller version the size of a clam’s pearl. In that version they did have wings, but they resembled fireflies in their shine, their bodies hidden by bright light and glow. You and Jimin were both satisfied with the answer, but had yet to see him transformed, so the certainty of it being true was yet to be confirmed.

You did not learn why he visited that time, though, and small details of his presence remained appearing around the house. Jimin still lost his rings, some potted plants changed their positions to other rooms, whatever flower you planted grew too fast, and your shoes were never where you left them. Your sneakers always had the laces tied, however, never the other way around, and you were thankful for that.

After the fourth and fifth visits, all faults of you saying or humming Yoongi’s name, Jimin was positive you had a looming crush - mainly because your blush wouldn’t stop when the Fae came around, and because of how consecutive and frequent the visits became. He often teased you about it until you smacked him, denial everywhere.

Yes, he was beautiful, yes you liked how his eyes held the galaxy in them, and yes, his touch was as electrifying as that one time in the kitchen, and it was true that maybe you enjoyed spending dead hours of night asking him questions and answering whichever ones he had a little bit too much, but none of that was indication of you being putty in his hands.

But you were.

Plus, who was to say that whatever you felt was more than fondness and attraction generated by the very nature of his being? The Fae were known to be alluring, for how else would they make others follow them to the depths of their home? You had no evidence, and no reason to name the sinking feeling of your stomach when he was away, or the jolts in your spine whenever he was around. So you decided the thoughts on the matter were better put aside for the time being, at least until you had more to go on.

It would have been easier if he hadn’t made it so difficult.

Amongst all spring, he was still the only Fae to ever visit you. Often he caught you cooking; his peculiar tastes became very apparent whenever he scrunched his nose or dipped his finger in the pots to taste, or when his ears twitched with pleasure. It came in handy with the offerings, the plates by the toadstools left empty by the time he parted ways.

When he didn’t stop by to talk, you would at least know he came to eat and see the Fae—no, his garden. This happened a lot more than you would like, and sometimes not even you saying his name brought him back.

During the last nights of May your heart was in a perpetual fall, never quite reaching your stomach yet ambiguous in its pain and place. Your lips would turn into an inconspicuous pout, and your sleep replaced with tosses and turns, restless and ceasing with a jolt when the lulling bells of the garden reached your room. At first you carefully got out of bed and thrudged downstairs, but upon finding nothing each and every time you woke, you stopped trying.

You missed him, and even Jimin knew, though he never heard you say it. Even he found odd when nothing ended up in another place around the house, or when the food in the garden was left untouched.

Neither of you worded the feelings out, persisting in the day to day tasks. Running the shop, experimenting with different concoctions for the apothecary, taking care of the two now overgrown gardens (an effect of his presence, surely), cooking, visiting Hoseok and Namjoon, and following the same biweekly routine of visiting the forest were common tasks for you. It was all you knew after years of routine. Missing someone you so shortly got attached to and acting upon it so determinately, that was wholeheartedly new.

Which was why, as you made your way across the now vividly green forest path, your hands trembled as they wrung the strap of your shoulder bag. Unlike the past weeks of his silence, when you gave up calling him, no longer saying his name, this time you were determined to try again. You brought the usual black thermos he was used to keeping, guilt nibbling at your chest from having forgotten to refill it for him before the last time any of you saw him, and a small bag of the crackers he liked to dip in the tea included in the pouch.

With your bag already filled with satchels of hollyhocks and parsley, you were reaching the end of the drawn trail, the weeds growing thicker beyond in the horizon being hidden by the drooping mane of your favorite weeping willow, standing lonesome before you. The fact that you hadn’t been intercepted yet by him stung less when you reached the dancing leaves, colored lime in the season despite it’s subliminal melancholy. Sitting under its shade was a decision easily made, and you basked in the serenity of the woods, the distant song of birds putting your heart at ease for just a second longer than expected until you got lost in thought once more.

When your gaze flickered to your wristwatch you almost cursed and rushed to stand with a frown, half an hour had already gone by—Jimin must have been worried again.

As you moved to leave the shade, something brushed the back of your shoulder, and you whirled, eyes wide and expecting, just to notice one of the slender leaves practically wave goodbye as it sailed in the sudden breeze. You blinked, closing your already parted lips, and fought to contain the embarrassment flooding your system. Right, you probably looked so foolish, borderline begging to see him in any corner of your peripheral only to be let down in continuity.

You were about to trudge back had it not been for the wisp of white fluttering between the branches. It was one of the white butterflies natives to the forest, the ones that shared his hair color. Something came over you then, an unknown energy controlling your will, and before you could stop yourself and process what you were doing, you were already whispering, desperate to know the answer to the burning question: why do I miss Yoongi that much?

As if on cue, the breeze picked up it’s steady rhythm, sweeping up stray, loose leaves and withering pink petals in its wake. It surrounded your body, looping around once, twice, and away as you noticed—it was making a floating path to be followed. So you did, eyes trained on the butterfly ahead and ignoring how you were now treading in unknown parts of the forest, indistinct paths ahead. Your intelligence was surely questionable in times like these, when matters of the heart were involved, but you continued on without hesitation nonetheless, following the petals like serpentines until the last one fell and you saw something you had never encountered anywhere else. Before you was a low archway made entirely of two twisting pines, grown curved and intertwining by the middle.

You couldn’t help but think it looked like a doorway, and with tentative steps you stopped near the edge, taking in the oddity of the pine’s growth before flickering your gaze to the butterfly now going inside it. You let out a gasp when it disappeared entirely once through the arch, as if it were never there, the space within it rippled like disturbed water. Your hands were itching to touch it despite the internal warning signs, but your curiosity was stronger than ever at that very instant, and what if—what if you could find him inside, wherever that led to?

The possibility, however low, was enough for you to nudge a hand through, slowly at first but fully once deemed safe and free from any sort of pain. You didn’t even think about how it felt, nor registered the sensation it gave, when a strong pull had you falling to your knees with a breathless ‘oof’. Had your hands not caught you in time, your face would have eaten grass and your chin would have probably suffered the same fate your palms did. They stung, and you were sure you were bleeding because a faint hint of iron found your nostrils, but none of that mattered, not when you felt a burning stare in the back of your spine.

When you met it head on, one pair turned to two, your breath catching in your throat at the creatures only a matter of feet away, a name leaving you in a whisper.

Yoongi and another Fae stood, eyeing you with so much heed you scrambled to stand back up, dusting your knees and smearing the caking blood from your palms in the process. It was more of a thoughtless action that left you wincing, your eyes leaving the Folk to glance at the state of your injuries for a second. Noting they were lighter than what you thought, you let yourself do what you hadn’t before—you oogled as the shock rooted you to the spot.

Yoongi seemed to have turned to you partially, half of him still facing his companion. This time he wore a silver shoulder plate held by a leather harness, and if circumstances were different your spine would have shuddered with an energy you dared not mention. Instead your shoulders sagged with relief at his presence, his expression turning equally soft at your reaction.

The Fae behind him stood at his same height, his clothes and armour mirrored in type but not in color. Being more sculpted, the billows did nothing to hide the shape of his biceps, nor did the dip help in hiding the marks that ran from his arms to his chest. Positively stunning, but allure less intense than Yoongi’s.

He was the first to speak, words unknown and tone mysterious to you. The black curls that fell on his forehead bounced when he turned his head to your frequent visitor. While you blinked in confusion, Yoongi easily replied in his Fae tongue, eyes not once ripped from you.

Your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment at the sudden realization that you had intruded deeper than where welcomed into their home, apologies threatening to fall but ceasing as to not interrupt the conversation and humiliate you further.

Then suddenly the other Fae’s words turned to common tongue, and you got the feeling he did so just so you could understand him.

“Be careful, and don’t do anything else foolish for a creature you barely know,” the male advised in warning with a flicker of his eyes your way, though you found no malice in his gaze or his tone. “Call if you need anything. Your post is permanent here now, it’ll get boring.”

Yoongi smiled, responding with a “Goodbye, Yu” just as said Fae turned to smoke, and sauntering your way.

Your heartbeat sped up with each step he took, steady to erratic by the time he was within reach. A part of you were scared it’d give out when his silken hand touched your cheek, but a bigger part didn’t quite care. Not when he was so close the scent of brambly woods reached your nose—you could practically taste the blackberries in the aroma.

“Miss me, little human?”

You practically melted in his touch, the truth spewing out of your mouth before you could even think about the consequences of their reveal. “I—I did.”

If the tug at the corner of his lips were any indication, your answer must have pleased him.

They looked so positively soft…

You wanted to touch him back, make sure with your own fingertips that he was there, present and in the flesh, but you stayed put, only allowing a hand to lay above his own on your cheek.

“I—” you began, yet the spell-like trance you were under shushed your unspoken apologies at the intrusion when he came closer, his chest pressed against yours and his next words said to your ear.

“You’ve gone an awfully long way from home, dove. Why don’t I take you back?”

Apparently, the reminder that you were in Fae territory was enough to knock some semblance of common sense into you, making you blink away the rest of the haze and turning beat red afterwards. You could only nod as he led you away.

The way back had been comfortably silent, an air of contentment surrounding your frame all the way until he let you reach the house and disappeared to meet you inside.

“When I went through that arch, did I…. um, transport or something?” you broke the silence once you were both seated with cups of lukewarm tea, and some biscuits you baked for him in the first place.

“No,” he smiled after a bite, “you went through a glamour wall. It’s there to make sure others don’t see into the depths of our home. For protection.”

Your eyebrows must have knotted in worry because he stopped you before you could apologize.

“Don’t fret, your visit was harmless,” he said with a slight shrug, continuing after a brief pause to take a sip of his tea. “I’d appreciate, however, if you didn’t go near it again.”

The statement shouldn’t have tugged at your chest the way it did, your mind aware of the possible dangers and consequences of trespassing, and yet you couldn’t help but feel the lonely pluck of a heartstring. It must have been evident in your face again, or maybe he could read you far better than you thought he could, because as soon as your eyes trailed elsewhere out of fear of showing him your disappointment, he explained.

“For your safety. Other Fae… might do more than move the things around your house.”

You nodded solemnly as a silent promise.

“Why did you go away for so long?”

Yoongi’s head tilted slightly at the string of words, most likely surprised at how your tone let your frustration slip right through. You would have admonished yourself for sounding such a way, for even asking it in the first place when he had no reason to answer, when he owed you nothing, but the genuine grin that overtook his face made you malfunction. Your cheeks turned red as if by hobby, and Fae dust fell from his movement just to disappeared yet again.

“I missed you too, dove. Believe it or not.”

You ignored the fluttering that riddled your stomach at the confession.

“Then, why?”

“We’re not stationed in permanent areas. We’re protectors, we rotate once every few years,” he answered. “And based on how much I come visit, I was to have a chat with our Queen.”

The nonchalant way he said it had your eyes like saucers, questions flying to your mind and fighting to escape. “What? Your— the Queen? Are you—are you in trouble?”

Yoongi shook his head as he took another biscuit, “No. Our system is very lax in rules, though it is still tight and homogeneous in many other aspects. I just had to give my due report, ask for some permissions, the usual.”

“But the other Fae, he said—did you ask to be stationed in this part of the forest?”

He hummed in agreement. “I want to keep bothering that descendant for as long as the years go.”

Oh. “Jiminie?”

A chuckle resonated throughout the room when he registered the disappointed dip of your voice.

“Mhmm. And to keep tasting your confections. You always try so hard to keep me coming back, it’s the least I could do. ”

At the playful words you flushed once more, not being able to deny the truth but finding no way to retaliate with facts of your own. You tried changing the topic instead, though your questions didn’t make you feel any better.

“But… it’s permanent? What if you get bored or tired, or—”

“As I said, our system is somewhat lax. I’m sure if I tell them I’d like to go elsewhere they’ll permit it.”

“Okay… but the other Fae,you called him Yu,” you countered, determined to make sure he was alright. “He seemed worried about something else. Are you really okay?”

Yoongi stopped drinking the tea at the topic, his eyes narrowing with concentration as he mulled something over, settling for “Do you really want to know?” When you nodded, he continued.

“By Fae Law, Jimin and you are, to us Fae Folk, my humans. He’s worried I do more than claim you as that, is all.”

You jolted upright in your chair, a warm feeling settling in the pit of your abdomen at the choice of expression and the promise of the statement. What did he even mean?

“More than claim me as your human?”

“When Fae get attached, they become a bit… possessive of their playthings. In some rare cases, things go farther than mere infatuation. Being the homogeneous group we are, some of my people are a bit unsettled. Yu’s words were uttered in precaution.”

The things he mentioned, all of them were new to you. In all the times you’d ask him about his people, never did topics like these rose from you. Mostly because complications of crossed lines were at the back of your mind when it concerned him, and you wondered briefly for the hundredth time if it had to do with his charm as a Fae. Some of his choice of words still left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you chose to ignore it considering their nature.

“Some of your own people have gone beyond claiming another creature?”

His answer came with care, and you could tell he was turning attentive to your following expressions by the twitch at the side of his lips.

“Yes. Some give up immortality to court the limited life of the one they ‘own’, others become outcasts for as long as their partner lives and come back once they’re gone, and the fewest… they become befallen.”

When your curiosity surfaced despite the sorrowful aura you emmanated at the thought of each outcome, he cleared your unvoiced doubt.

“The befallen are Fae who forsake their own lineage, those daring enough to hand it to another’s timeline. It’s like offering immortality to your kind at the price of our existence as Fae.”

“They stop being Fae folk?” you asked, your arms brought around your chest in efforts of keeping out a dread-filled chill.

Yoongi hummed in affirmation. “They’re turned to demons. Usually incubi, as far as my people are concerned. Interesting, isn’t it? To think some of us are lunatic enough to do that.”

Despite his answer, his neutral tone told you he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as much as it seemed by word choice, and you couldn’t help thinking about his choice if he were in their shoes. It was a fleeting thought you discarded asking before it nagged your mind.

“Does the other creature turn into a sort of Fae hybrid?”

“No. They’re just doomed with immortality when all the rest of their brethren die at the hands of time. It’s a consequence they usually don’t know about, and are told when it’s too late. We’re selfish creatures by nature and choose the outcomes all on our own.”

“Oh…”

Your lips tugged into a frown, abruptly ending the topic of choice for both of you. After being away for more than two weeks and having gone without seeing him in so long, you were adamant to change everything to a lighter note. He was the Fae that visited you and played tricks in your house—you didn’t want to imagine him suffering through any of the burdens some of his people did. Even if it meant making yourself believe whatever you felt for him was nothing more than the enticement all who faced the Fae were under.

Some things were easier said than done, however, and when time passed and your mind smudged the memory of the conversation, all it would take were seconds for your heart to beat in the rhythm of his own. Of that, you were certain.

For now, changing the subject would have to be enough.

“I also went to see an Elven witch from the North, if that interests you. Want to hear about it?”

You couldn’t seem eager enough, and his smile made it all better.

The days had returned to a newfound normalcy after that encounter, the routines you followed different only in his increasing presence and syrupy touch. He hadn’t ever been so touchy with you before, opting more for a safe distance and traveling eyes rather than sharing warmth. That was, up until you found him behind the glamour wall. You figured it might have been triggered by your response to it in the first place, having been guilty of nuzzling your cheek ever so slightly and enjoying it much more than you let on. He could probably tell, and being the mischievous little thing he was, faint touches here and there (a hand behind your back, a tuck of your hair behind your ear, a grip on your hip whenever he looked over your shoulder) became the norm until you were fully conditioned to expect them, to want them. And though you never asked for them, you followed his hands whenever they shifted away.

Jimin was always one to tease you as soon as Yoongi left, his eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge and afterthoughts of annoyance. All he got were tugs at his hair and being a pillow to lean on whenever he was free and the Fae drowsy. He didn’t complain either, though.

The other difference was the amount of sales going on since you began selling elixirs. Word had traveled around the village that the apothecary opened once more after years of silence, and by the great granddaughter of the Witch herself no less. No one could resist the temptation of coming to visit, some in awe, others for keeping an eye out.

It was a funny sight, watching how wary and jittery-fingered villagers entered the shop, their steps hesitant and eyes watchful, yet never leaving without at least one of your remedies. They were cheaper than those sold at the local pharmacy, and all natural, and while at first everyone was apprehensive because of those very reasons, no one could deny the potency of your brews. (Or at least, that was the spoken reason that reached your ears.) Some of the more spiteful old men spent their money solely to destroy your work, the only living remnant of magic within the borders, you could tell.

Off-handed comments about your sudden practices reached you both within the shop and outside it, when trekking around the establishments near the center of the village. Jimin was always quick to ease you, take away your thoughts of the spiteful tones. “They’re just baseless spews of nonsense,” he would say, “they mean nothing, they know nothing. Let’s forget them ok? They’re harmless fools anyway.”

For the most part, they were harmless, but harm comes in many ways, and Yoongi, who knew not of most of the things that went on in the shop (opting to hide from the rest of the people and visiting specifically when you were alone, or with Jimin), could protect you from his people but not from your own.

“Namjoon’s coming back today isn’t he?” you asked a sweeping Jimin, hands busy tying your shoe laces and bag empty enough for half your list of groceries.

“Yea. He’ll stop by at nighttime, Hoseok too.”

All finished, you patted your behind after standing and made your way to the door.

“Ok, got it. I’ll be right back then, we need ingredients for dinner,” you said, “I’ll get chicken, too.”

Jimin nodded squeakily, waving before requesting beef instead—for the occasion. While you rolled your eyes at the use of his whiney voice, hating how much power it had over you, he knew you’d still comply nonetheless. You always did like spoiling him.

That autumn morning you went off peacefully, taking your time to get everything you needed for a healthy supper, bountiful enough for 3 seemingly starving men and yourself. You were well-rested, you had a good breakfast, and it was a day off from work as well. So the reason why, halfway into the trip and well inside the market, a sharpness prickled your spine was uncertain to you. While odd, the discomfort lasted so little you simply paid no heed to it.

What you couldn’t ignore was the swift wave of tiredness that swallowed your shoulders and turned your feet sluggish, your hands grabbing at the tomatoes and cabbages with such a weak hold they almost fell from your fingers.

Cabbage, tomatoes, onions, garlic, spice, rice… chicken, did you get the chicken? No, Jimin wanted beef. Beef…

Your feet made it towards the freezer aisle, your hand shooting out to grab the thickest serving of red meat without further thought and hauling it to the cart. You moved it with a huff, sweat trickling at the back of your neck in defiance of the blasting air conditioner, and you could only hope you didn’t look as bad as you felt. You didn’t need more rumors or prolonging stares. However by the time you reached the register, you knew otherwise. Shivers clearly wrecked through your body as your neck and ears flushed an unhealthy shade of red.

You felt suffocated, stuffy—you had to get out of there.

Trying to pay no mind to the worker, you fished out your wallet a little bit too quick, the coins spilling everywhere. Had it not been for Mrs. Young’s son, you would have taken an eternity to recollect them. Giving him a few spare ones, you thanked him and rushed your way out as soon as possible, a plastic bag in each hand.

By the time the front door came into view, Jimin had to take the groceries from your trembling hands and ushered you to bed.

You were fast asleep before you could feel the soft fur of your favorite blanket, and before you could see Yoongi appear, breathless and with a desperate look swirling inside his dark eyes.

One of your favorite parts about sleeping was how numb it felt. There were no traces of outer or inner pains and aches—save for nightmares, but you barely dreamt in the first place. What you didn’t quite like was waking up, which was inevitable, and just the more agonizing when your body felt like it been stoned by at least a dozen people.

What woke you this time were muffled sounds, voices filtering into your mind from somewhere far away. It took a while to distinguish some of the words, your fingers twitching from your waking state.

“She gave you a what?”

“Let me see it.”

“Will it help her? Is—Is that a map?”

“Hey, be careful with that—”

They would have continued had you not groaned in pain, your head pounding as soon as your back hit the mattress and your arms gave up their attempt at holding you upright. Your body felt like pounds of lead, and everything was far too dark—how long had you slept for?

A look to your wall clock told it was already 7PM, 8 hours since you got home from the supermarket. Your mind fleetingly thought of the groceries left in Jimin’s care, but you didn’t have time to wonder if they were put to use when the memory of having Namjoon and Hoseok visiting your home and being left to starve almost fueled enough adrenaline in you to rip off your blanket. Almost, since right then the door opened to reveal all men in question.

Hoseok’s golden skin and auburn head of hair were the first to greet you, worry evident in his eyes as much as it filled Namjoon’s own.

“Hey girlie, how are you feeling?” asked Hoseok, voice thin and feet edging closer.

“Do you need anything?” questioned Namjoon, pointing to the kitchen behind them, “Water?”

You nodded meekly, the thought of cool liquid for your parched throat giving you enough energy to sit upright as he shuffled out of the room.

“I’m okay,” you croaked out Hoseok’s way.

Jimin, who had entered behind them, came to stand by your bedside. His hands quickly found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze, something he did whenever any of you two felt worry or fear. You reciprocated, but whatever answer you had for his next question got stuck in your throat at the sight of Yoongi.

He stood by the doorframe briefly, eyeing you with scrunched eyebrows and a far away look until it slipped away, replaced with softer features that despite their nature, only served to make your heart thud incessantly, confusion and panic settling in. He must have noticed your questioning gaze as to why he was there when other people could see him, because seconds after your eyes widened, he spoke.

“It wasn’t expected but I sensed something was wrong so I came by,” he explained. “We met in the kitchen.”

“I introduced them,” Jimin said, “it’s all fine.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell us you finally contacted a Fae, Lily?” asked Hoseok, a playful lilt sliding through, “we could have become friends earlier.”

You blinked, faltering and dreading to answering a question that had at least two alternatives. Sure, it wasn’t your choice to make, but you also knew you’d prefer he kept to your house, to your eyes, to your time, even if knowing your friends would gladly accept him. They were the only other curious and different ones from the bunch, after all.

“I— it wasn’t my decision, I just…”

Hoseok heart shaped smile told you he was kidding, so you quieted down and took the glass of bubbly water Namjoon returned with, thankful at the distraction.

He stood besides Hoseok, and when he crossed his arms, the whole room shifted in tone.

“So, noona,” Jimin began, giving your hand another squeeze to get your attention before continuing, “Did something happen on your trip to the market?”

You began shaking your head, but at the throbbing pain, you let out a soft “no” instead.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes in response, coming to stand by the foot of your bed. “Why do you still live here?”

“What do you mean?”

“The people in this village don’t like your kind,” he said, “nor are they fans of people like all of you. So why do you all live here?”

“We grew up here, so we sort of just stayed. It’s not all that bad,” Namjoon offered, and Jimin voiced your thoughts.

“But what does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re simply not wanted here by a good deal of the other villagers. Not anymore, and you especially, dove.”

“Why? Is it because of my great grandmother? Or because of my new practices?”

Jimin’s thumb soothed over the palm of your hand in absent thought. “Even if they don’t… what can they do? They themselves hold no magic, they’re normal humans. Half of them aren’t even descendents.”

“Do you know why this house is placed in the outskirts of the village? Far from most other places such as the market you all go to?” At everyone’s silence, Yoongi answered himself. “It’s because of energy, and how in concentration, it’s as potent as magic for some creatures. Humans are included in that mix.”

“Energy?” asked Hoseok, a glint of understanding in his warm eyes, “you mean people’s projected auras?”

“And their intentions, I think,” added Namjoon.

Yoongi hummed in confirmation. “Precisely. They may be human, but enough hatred and twisted desires can taint what energy they expel into the atmosphere. And if it’s against you, it will reach you.”

“But—is that why you came? You could feel it reach me?” you queried. His reply was a sharp nod.

“Why do you think it reached me now?”

“You never carry any protection on you,” he pointed out, “and the house lost its protection as well.”

“So that’s why she gave me the charm and the mandrake,” mumbled Namjoon with a faraway look, shifting on his feet before looking at Hoseok, and then at Yoongi.

You shot Namjoon a questioning look and he just shrugged. “My friend from the North, the Witch I mentioned, gave it to me—for you” answered Namjoon.

“For me? She knows about me?”

“Witches know a lot of things, Lily.”

“And what— how was this house protected?” As far as your memory went, there was no talk of hexes or spells upon the house. The feeling of safety it expelled was something you were just accustomed to, its protection something you hoped for. And if there were any spells placed, who would have dispelled them? You had no knowledge of that, and you were sure no one in the village did either. There were no satchels on any corner, or spell jars anywhere that you knew of, nor circles of plants surrounding the premises. What was left?

“Your great grandmother buried a mandrake near the front door of the house around the time my people visited this place,” Yoongi confessed, “Mandrakes easily absorb energy and counter magic, but they die if they get stuffed with too much of it. My guess is that the one she placed died when you began selling more elixers to continue her craft.”

“So we have to replace it with the one Namjoon-hyung brought?” piped in Jimin, his brows knotted in clear confusion. “Is that all we can do?”

“Yes, and no. Y/N should be fine in around a week if we change it now, but I can help speed up the process.”

Though you hated the idea of spending more than one day as slow as a slug and as weak as cotton candy, your heart leapt at the promise of a quick recovery. You would go mad laying around and not doing any of the tasks you were so used to taking care of.

“How—”

“Just focus on taking care of the mandrake, little Jiminie. Follow the map she left, wear gloves and earmuffs, all of you, and place the dead one in the same box the new one came in.”

Hoseok nodded, “and then what do we do with it? Shouldn’t it be cleansed or something?”

“Fire can do that, I think. The Witch mentioned it before I left,” Namjoon piped in.

“Yes. And hurry,” Yoongi warned, and you instantly recognized the impish glaze over his dark eyes, “before the newborn mandrake starts crying. It’ll shatter your eardrums if it screams.”

Hoseok and Namjoon visibly paled, making to shuffle out of the room as quickly as possible with Jimin close behind. Though, not until after pinching Yoongi as a punishment for scaring them off, and giving one last worried look your way as the door closed behind him.

“So,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence that filled the room. “I’ll be fine in around a week?”

“If you don’t leave the house, and if I help.” Yoongi, who had maintained a distance until then, took the empty glass from your hand to place it in the nightstand, and you noticed there was an empty milk bottle right beside it. You didn’t have time to question it as he came to sit by your side, his hands coming to fix your bed hair and crooked shirt. You suppress a shiver almost instantly, but failed to stop yourself from clutching his fingers.

“Will you?” Your question came as a whisper, verging on a silent plead even though you knew the answer. “Help, I mean.”

“You’re very aware of my answer, dove. Do you just want to hear me say it?”

You never could get used to him knowing you like the back of his hand, and the heat surfaced to your cheeks with bite at his throaty chuckle. “And if I do?”

He must have liked it, because he let his smirk grow as he cornered you between his arms, your hands intertwined and pinned under his own. His actions brought a squeak out of you, the proximity between your faces so minimal you could feel his breath playing on your cheeks, blackberry playing on your tongue. You could finally admire the smoothness of his skin, the flutter of his lashes, and the vastness of the very eyes that trapped you in stillness, but at what price?

“You’re a bit cheeky today, aren’t you?”

His tone dipped low, stilling the words inside your throat before you could try uttering anything more than a shuddering breath. A shot of energy leaked through your spine, all the feelings you tried so poorly to suppress breaking through with ease when he complied and answered.

“I will take care of you—make sure your body’s healthy again,” he said, leaning back to give you room to breathe, his eyes traveling and pointy ears twitching. “You’ll be fine in no time.”

“And after that?”

“I’ll take care of you then too, for as long as you want me to.”

You could tell the small smile he gave you was sincere, and while his features then completely contrasted his earlier timbre, you let yourself relax at the softer change. It barely lasted.

“Okay.”

“Now,” he leaned back into you steadily, “I need to take some of that energy out of you.”

“How?”

A sultry tint glazed his half lidded eyes, shifting without effort as sparks of thrill came out as warning.

“Don’t fret,” he said, “it’s fun.”

His lips found yours in one swift swoop, locking in place for a second just to being brushing against your own in an agonizingly slow pace. Embarrassment painted the tips of your ears and cheeks at how unhesitant you were to reciprocate, your eyes falling shut in an instant as you savored the taste of him for as long as you could.

One of your hands left his hold to rest on the back of his neck, tentatively inching closer until your fingers threaded through his hair. It was as if your body responded on its own, overjoyed and electrified at how his hair was as velvety, and how his lips were as smooth as you imagined. When you gave a gentle tug you could feel the ghost of a smirk playing against your lips. It prompted him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip lazily until a heady whine left your throat and he could do nothing but swallow it to continue. The blush that bloomed across your shoulders and chest radiated warmth as your thoughts jumbled and turn to absolute mush, entirely intoxicated on the plush strokes of his tongue and the bitten tugs he gave your lower lip. Your legs pressed together as your nails found his clothed back, and he pressed himself further against you, tongue all but consuming yours. He left you utterly breathless in every sense of the word, wanting more whenever he paused for breath, but you quickly grew far too weak to follow him.

Your hands left his back and fell gently besides you. Then your mind turned blank, a wave of exhaustion taking over your limbs as unconsciousness reached closer and closer, it’s grasp so near all you could do was let your eyes flutter open to have one last look of his pretty, abyssal eyes surrounded by strikingly dark veins before you let fatigue overtake you.

You thought maybe you imagined the feeling of a light kiss pressed against your forehead, but you couldn’t be sure.

Mandrakes were… uglier than he had expected, truthfully. Even the one they had buried was nothing but a pale, wrinkled root with branches resembling fat appendages and an irregular line oddly similar to a mouth. It unsettled him, but nothing was worse the the dead one he was sealing away. This one was pure black, carbony to the touch despite it’s solidity, and where the line was in the other, a deep hollowing circle took its place. It looked abhorred, and Jimin thought with a frown that it was most likely pained from everything it had to endure and absorb.

The idea that Lily could have been in a much worse state had it not been for Namjoon and Yoongi brought him out of his stupor, shifting his gaze from the root to her bedroom window, and then the wooden front door where Yoongi stood by. He was holding one of their empty milk bottles, now filled with black mist crammed and curling inside it, only sealed by a corkscrew tightly in place. Jimin couldn’t help but eye apprehensively it as he approached the Fae, box in hand.

“How’s Lily doing?”

“She’s resting again,” he replied, “I’ve taken most of the tainted energy from her body.” Yoongi lifted the bottle to signal it’s contents, then placed it besides the dead mandrake as his eyes drifted to the other two guys. They were gathering wood and placing it behind the house, far from where curious villager’s eyes could reach.

“Will she wake up soon?” Jimin asked him, thinking about the duties of the store with worry. He knew how to run everything, but he was just one man, and the demand was high for Lily’s elixirs.

“In a few hours she’ll be up, and very hungry I believe.”

“I saved some of today’s dinner for her, though she’ll probably want something light instead,” he said, shifting on his feet before following Yoongi upstairs to the kitchen.

“Most likely. Now,” Yoongi halted in front of the pantries, his hands opening and closing the ones he wasn’t accustomed to peeking into as he moved along. “Do you have any salt?”

“Yes—it’s in the bottom one. Why?”

“A circle needs to be excavated around the fire and filled with salt. Wouldn’t want the energy to escape now, would we?”

A few hours later, when it grew darker and everybody else was ready to be tucked in bed, the fire Hoseok lighted grew in the backyard. The three boys watched it burn, the box melting away in the middle to reveal the foul within it. Ghastly whispers and hisses rose with the flames, a screech dissolving into the night sky until, with great speed, the smoke returned to the center to consume itself with the blaze. A puff of cleansed air was all that remained, threading through their hairs and ruffling their clothes in release.

Yoongi stood by the windowsill in your room, watching the spectacle with leisure. Once done, he went back to your side, sitting on the edge of your bed as his eyes roamed your peaceful face with a mixture of curiosity and a form of fondness he wasn’t quite used to. You shifted when his hand found your cheek, his thumb tracing soothing patterns when a sigh left your lips and raised a chuckle out of him. Just like then, your body searched for his caress, and the idea of this being a casual thing pulled the strings of his heart in ways it hadn’t before. He hadn’t even thought of offering a deal to help you like he could have done, like any of his people would have done, for goodness’ sake.

In that moment, he was certain he was more attached to you than he thought, and with bemused acceptance at his newfound sentiment, he pulled his hand back after kissing your forehead one last time.

“Gods, I’m a lunatic, aren’t I, dove?” he whispered, then disappeared out of the room to find the others.

After that night, everything went back to how it used to be, for the most part.

Yoongi had kept true to his word, keeping around the house and your room more than ever before, helping with the gardens and your waves of intermittent dizziness as much as he was able while Jimin tended the majority of the customers in the shop and apothecary.

Namjoon and Hoseok visited as often as their jobs allowed as well, wanting to interact with the Fae every chance they got. It eased your heart how friendly they became, and how easy it was to get used to having a full house.

What you hadn’t quite gotten used to was the more constant spike in your blood pressure, courtesy of the only Fae in your life.

Every night or two, without mistake, Yoongi stayed with you in bed until your mind numbed enough and your eyes gave away to sleep, whatever remnants of the tainted energy slipping away from your form. But what happened before you dozed off and he disappeared was the problem, because you always thought of the same thing, the same moment, happening over, and over, and over, until he seemed to read your mind and your flushed features, and he pressed his lips against yours with a fervency that rivaled your own. The stare that caressed you before the kisses unfailingly rendered you weak, shivers rolling down your spine when the sweetness turned too heated, though it never got farther than that.

They began following you in the mornings when he was absent the night before, light presses against your temple, on your nose, or your shoulder as you cooked breakfast or woke to read a really good book. Ultimately it got so normal that Jimin became used to the randomized displays of minimal affection when Yoongi visited during the daytime. He often mentioned he was glad you let yourself be sure of your own emotions, and that was when it hit you.

You loved him. Of course he must have known, though your confession a few nights later drove him absolutely wild. (You had never seen so much Fae dust sparkling around your room.) For the first time, he spent the night over, wrapped around your sheets as you cuddled next to him.

When he said it back, however, it triggered the memory of the day you found him beyond the glamour wall, of your talk afterwards, and along with it a flood of trepidation.

You couldn’t contain the worry seeping through your eyes one night, sitting in front of him on the windowsill. He was looking outside, to the forest he once called home, oddly forgotten after acclimatizing himself to the house, to Jimin, to you, while your eyes remained on him. His hair remained as silvery as ever, now contrasting against a more golden skin from all of the accompanied trips to his home. Even just sitting there, it was outstanding the pull he had on you.

A soft touch on his bicep brought his attention to you.

“Yoongi. You got attached to us, didn’t you?”

The smile he offered wasn’t bitter, but it was the answer you needed, and a flash of his earlier words threatened to cease your beating heart on the spot.

‘We’re selfish creatures by nature and choose the outcomes all on our own.’

“Did you… did you choose already?”

A look of regret flashed through his eyes but you could barely registered it, his hand smoothing out your hair distractedly. Then he answered.

“I have.”

#yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts yoongi #yoongi x y/n #bts fic #bluebells and buttercups

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