#I can’t even get through this moment without essentially bowing down to her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cavalierious-whim · 2 years ago

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Sylvain struggles to settle into his role as Margrave and writes a letter to Felix, an olive branch he isn't sure will receive a reply.

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Post-war life is a strange thing.

It isn’t that Sylvain expects it to be easy. Reconstruction is a bittered thing with too few resources and people left to do the heavy lifting. He doesn’t miss war but he isn’t quite equipped to handle the aftermath, either.

This is what he thinks when he looks at Gautier Manor rising high before him. It is in disrepair. Still in one, solid piece, but patched in areas that he doesn’t remember. Boards on the windows, tarps over broken roof tiles to keep out the rain and snow. The steps that lead to the double doors are pitted and chipped.

Sylvain feels as though he’s looking at a ghost. He stands there, staring, a bag slung over his shoulder and his horse pawing at the ground behind him.

“Margrave?” A quiet voice to his right, meek and trembling. The servant girl keeps her head bowed and wrings her hands in front of her apron.

It takes a moment for Sylvain to realize that she is talking to him. Margrave, she’d said, the question rolling off her tongue softly.

Feel wrong. Sylvain shifts awkwardly, dragging a gloved hand through his hair. Winter has not fully settled in, so the air is crisp but still warm enough for only a thick woolen cloak and the barest essentials.

“I’m…” Sylvain stops, words refusing to form because his tongue feels fat in his mouth.

Sylvain is a man who has always cared for himself, mostly ignoring the whims of others. Always told his father to fuck off, slept with both men and women to satisfy the void in himself, and never wrote to his mother despite knowing it’d be good for her.

And now, he’s come back to a home full of ghosts and even his title to haunt him.

“A Margrave is meant to serve his people,” his father once said. The only good advice he ever gave him.

“The work of a Margrave is tiresome and grueling, but you are built for it.” Sylvain never listened to his mother, not even when it counted. He still wouldn’t listen to her now, his own self-deprecation his worst enemy.

He very nearly didn’t come back home.

But he did because if there’s anything Sylvain does not do, it’s let things sit stagnant and unresolved. Besides, the people here have done nothing to warrant an absent lord. They’ve done their best to get by in the midst of war and famine. Even the girl that stands next to him seems strong despite her thin frame.

“We are Gautiers,” was another thing his mother once said. “We are the people of the bitter north winds, hardened by our lives here and made better for it.”

“What is your name?” asks Sylvain.

The servant keeps her head down. “I’m—”

“No, look at me.” He isn’t unkind. He says it quietly, carefully, even, like he’s addressing a hatchling not yet out of the nest.

When the girl looks at him, though, Sylvain finds not a hatchling. Her eyes are sharp, glinting with measured and underhanded intelligence. Like a magpie, he thinks, in the way that she regards him as though he’s a text to be dissected.

“Rhesa, Lord Margrave,” she replies.

“Well, Miss Rhesa—” She starts at that, her head tilting ever-so-slightly. “I can’t promise that I’ll be a good Margrave, but I’ll be a better one than my father.”

She snorts. Tries and fails to hide it behind a carefully placed cough. It is funny—truly it is, but it is funny to them for different reasons.

For Sylvain, it’s a hope and mostly a dream, but he makes no promises because he’s never been a good man. And the one person who helps him, who makes all the difference in the world, has fucked off to Seiros knows where because playing a mercenary is easier than being a lord.

Felix is the man that forces Sylvain to face his ugly parts, but without him there, Sylvain is bound to fall back into his old habits.

“Keep me on my toes,” he says to Rhesa. “That’s an order.”

Rhesa gives him a once-over and an amused glance. “Is that permission to speak candidly when I see fit?”

Sylvain barks a laugh. “Yes, I suppose that it is.”

“Well then, Lord Margrave, you’re already off to a good start.”

He is lost without Felix. But, as Sylvain trails behind Rhesa to the manor he thinks that he might remember how to survive in the cold.

“We Gautiers never forget. We are born of the permafrost and ice runs in our veins.”

Sylvain wants to think that maybe his mother would be proud.

Truth be told, everything goes pretty well until Sreng hears of a new Margrave and sends a party to investigate the border.

They do not launch an attack. The party is small and all they do is reconnaissance, riding the edge of one end of the border to the other, taking note of rumors and stories of just what kind of man Sylvain is. The rumors must be dismal. Sylvain knows that his reputation precedes him, even here in the far corner of Faerghus.

One morning, he is surprised by a letter.

Rhesa doesn’t bother knocking before she slips into his office. She’s loud, heavy-soled shoes loud against the floor instead of the dainty sneakers his father would have expected her to wear. Rhesa doesn’t bow her head. She doesn’t present him the letter, laid flat on a silver platter, bowing politely as she holds it out.

She dumps it onto his desk next to the rest of his paperwork before crossing her arms. “It’s from Sreng,” she says curtly.

Sylvain looks up from his current headache. Accounting reports from sheep farms to the south. He rubs the tension from his eyes, turning to the new letter instead. “You opened this,” he says, thumbing the edge of where the envelope has been sliced open.

Rhesa sniffs but doesn’t apologize. “Would you rather be poisoned?”

“What? No?”

“The last time they sent a letter to the Margrave, it was dipped in something that made him bedridden for two weeks.”

Sylvain’s lips part. He tilts his head, considering this. “I—well, I had no idea. Mother never mentioned—”

“And why would she have?” Rhesa snorts. “You were off playing hero with the would-be king of Faerghus. Of course, she didn’t distract you with something like that.”

“I wouldn’t have come home.” He says it bitterly, tongue twisted by the distaste for his father that curdles his gut.

Rhesa’s expression softens and her next words are quiet. “Yes, I know. You would have just wanted to know, yes.”

Sylvain actually isn’t sure. He sits there, elbows against his desk, fingers steepled and brow furrowed as he thinks. He and his father were wholly hostile with each other, and for many reasons. Knowing he’d spent some time sick wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Lord Margrave, it’s that we don’t always get the things that I want. Do you think I prefer to be here, doing as you ask?”

He laughs at that, a soft chuckle. Keep me on my toes, he’d asked her. Nothing could have prepared him for how perfectly Rhesa settled into her role. She’s quick-witted and sharp-tongued. Over the weeks he’s come to appreciate her blunt honesty, whether he wants it or not.

“No,” he finally says.

“And yet, here I am, caring for your sorry ass. I deserve a raise.”

“Yes.” He means it. Rhesa can hear his genuine tone and she sighs, hackles dropping. “Are you going to read the letter or not?”

“Oh, so it’s interesting?”

“Probably the most interesting thing to walk through those front doors in a decade.”

Sylvain pulls the letter from the envelope and spreads out the thick, uneven parchment paper. “‘To he who sits on a would-be throne of his making—’” Sylvain pauses, choking back a laugh. “Wow, what an entrance. Does this clansman think I run a monarchy here?”

“Your father certainly thought he did.”

Right. It isn’t a surprise that they think he’s more like his old man than not. The stories about him that circulate certainly don’t help. The fact that Sreng hasn’t attacked the border since he came back means they’re curious enough to stall their advance, but Sylvain isn’t a fool to think that’ll last.

“What does he want?”

“He—” Sylvain skims the letter and then rears back, surprised. “Er, she—”

“She?”

“‘I’m unsure that we can come to an agreement but maybe you’re more of a man than your predecessor. Time will tell.’”

“That sounds ominous,” drawls Rhesa.

“It’s signed Ulla, Twenty-Ninth Chief Clan Dahl.” Sylvain raises his brows. “That’s a title. And I thought mine was long.”

Rhesa sits on the edge of his desk, uncaring that it’s improper. “And so, what? They want to visit?”

“She expects me to come to her, actually. Make peace, or so this letter says. She doesn’t seem very confident about it though. I think she’s mostly curious.” Rhesa’s nose scrunches at that. Sylvain’s mouth tenses and he leans back in his chair. “Hey, now, I take offense to that look.”

It’s gone the moment Rhesa rights herself, back onto her feet, and ready to go back to her chores for the day. “If I may say—”

“You always do, whether I want you to or not.”

Her expression thins, curdling slightly. Rhesa huffs and continues. “I was going to express concern for you visiting yourself. We have no extra men here, so I know that is your plan.”

She’s right. It’s too much of a risk. Sylvain has no progeny he’s aware of and it would be utterly stupid to march into enemy territory alone. If this was the war, the answer would be simple: he’d do what was needed, no matter the cost.

But the war is over. It isn’t so easy to turn back the clock and think before those times. Matters during reconstruction are handled differently, with a sort of tenderness that Sylvain isn’t sure he holds. His hands are too rough, too soiled, tainted black with the bitter darkness in his soul.

It’s a learning process. Sylvain spends every day telling himself that he’s more than what he thinks he is but he’s alone this far north, even with the friendship he’s found in Rhesa. The others walk on eggshells around him. He has no family left.

“I… there’s someone I could…”

Ingrid sent a letter unexpectedly a few weeks back, citing that she’d shared a meal with him. Told Sylvain exactly where to find him and demanded that he clean up his damn mess.

“A pen and paper, Sir?”

Sylvain’s already pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment. “He won’t answer,” he murmurs, dipping a quill into his inkwell. He shakes it slightly, letting the extra slip off before penning a rather blunt letter.

Felix won’t want platitudes. Insults have always been his language of choice.

The letter goes entirely unanswered until Sylvain wakes up one morning, nearly a month later, to a glass of cold water being dumped over his head.

He yelps, jolting up in the bed. It’s the beginning of winter, so the room is bone-cold and his sheets are now soaked. Sylvain shivers, curses, and jumps from the bed, feet smarting against the frozen stone floor. “Fuck, fuck. Rhesa—”

It is not Rhesa. Felix stands opposite him, covered in furs, a mug in his hand. Rhesa stands in the doorway behind him, hiding a grin behind her palm, choking back a laugh.

Sylvain stares. Stands there like an awkward vulture, curled in on himself, shoulders hanging as he wonders, What the absolute fuck.

Felix knows that look. He snorts and his stiff stance loosens, like a cat shaking itself out. “You’ve always been a lazy lout.”

“I’m not—lazy?”

“It’s midday.” Felix’s voice is prim. Matter-of-fact as always, the words crawling from his mouth as though it pains him to speak.

“I’m the Margrave. I can—”

“Do what you want, no doubt,” cuts in Felix, finishing before him. “Didn’t you come here to make a difference? To be something more than your old man? Instead, I find you lazing in bed into the late morning. Not a damn thing’s changed.”

Rhesa still watches from the doorway, eyebrows drawn high on her forehead. The look she hides behind her hand is one of both shock and amusement.

“Felix—” starts Sylvain with a wince.

“I’m the fool, of course. I should’ve known better.”

“Why are you even here?”

Felix rolls his eyes and growls with impatience. “Your letter,” he snaps. “That’s why—midday, Sylvain! Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be in two days’ time? I pushed my horse to get here early because I knew you’d need help, but I didn’t think I’d have my work cut out for me.”

The letter, one penned in Sylvain’s neat penmanship. He’d nearly forgotten.

Felix, I know you owe me nothing, but I need your help, Sylvain wrote. To anyone else, Felix would deny it. Even if everyone knew, even if they still know he’d come to Sylvain’s rescue, Felix will insist until his dying days it wasn’t for him.

“I’m not here for you,” says Felix, as if on cue. So stubborn. Sylvain nearly laughs at the utter predictability. “In any case. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. There isn’t time to plan.”

“Plan?” asks Sylvain, finally righting himself and sitting on the edge of the mattress. It’s hard to look proper wearing nothing but his night clothes and he pulls at his sleeve nervously.

Felix sneers at him. “Don’t be daft.” He turns on his heel to leave. “Ten minutes,” he finishes, punctuating his words with a rude gesture that leaves Rhesa snickering in stitches.

“Sir—”

“Don’t start.”

Rhesa chuckles as Sylvain shrugs out of his dressing gown. Ten minutes means five with Felix. Sylvain doesn’t have time to dodge her well-intentioned and teasing jabs.

“I was surprised, you know. He was somewhat presentable there, but—” Sylvain howls with laughter. Felix is never presentable. Rhesa clucks her tongue before continuing. “You should have seen him when he rode in. I made him at least clean his boots.”

“I’m sure he loved that.”

“About as much as he loved the way that I wouldn’t let him in at first. That’s the Duke of Fraldarius?”

Sylvain is still laughing as he slips on a clean shirt. “In the flesh.”

Rhesa rounds him, buttoning up the front with quick and deft hands. “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised. It takes a strange man to love another, I suppose.”

Sylvain freezes against her. His heart thuds in his throat. “I—” He knows he can’t lie. About anything else, sure, keen, well-cultivated words tumbling from his mouth like perfectly composed verse, but with Felix. “I’m not…”

There’s a look that Rhesa gives him. Something stern and stoic, a little bit cross-eyed, her lips tugged into a severe frown. But then it softens and she sighs. “That’s how it is, isn’t it? The ones we want to make it work with are always the hardest.”

“Like you’d know.”

Rhesa shrugs.

Sylvain finishes dressing in the quiet, the brush of Rhesa’s fingers the only sound as they slide over soft wool. “It isn’t my place—”

“Yeah, it isn’t.”

“—but you told me to keep you on your toes.”

Sylvain shoots Rhesa a pointed look. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

A smile curls across her face. She reaches out and straightens the lapels of his waistcoat. “I am only doing my job, Sir.”

“I don’t pay you to tease me.”

“No, but you do pay me to take care of you.” She pats Sylvain’s chest with friendly affection. “I’ve heard the stories, of course. Rumors of a mighty romance between a Margrave and a Duke. When love is that strong it’s hard to hide. At first glance, it was hard to imagine. He looks rather like a drowned cat and you have… well, taste, at least.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Flattering.”

“But watching the two of you… Love isn’t just about romance, you know, it’s also everything in between. It’s knowing a person, both the good parts and bad. That man—” Rhesa points to the door. “We all know your bad parts but he’s the only one to look at you like they mean nothing.”

Sylvain feels her words deep in his gut. “I… he’s… It’s complicated.”

Rhesa snorts in a silly, pig-like way. “Yes, well, complicated means that it can still get sorted out.”

“It’ll be better for everyone else if you settle shit here at the border,” is the first thing Felix says when Sylvain appears in the kitchen a half-hour later. He’s annoyed, tapping his boot against the tile floor. Sylvain took a half-hour thanks to Rhesa’s unwanted advice. “This woman—”

“Ulla,” supplies Sylvain, settling in at the table and going for a piece of toast. He slathers butter and jam across it messily, and Felix watches in disgust.

“Right.” Felix’s voice is so flat, it’s damn-near bored. “UIla. Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to get you alone and do some damage?”

“Well, that’s why I wrote to you, isn’t it? I’m not so stupid to ride into Sreng alone.”

“You have men.”

“I do not.”

Felix’s gaze narrows and his head tilts. “What?”

“When Father died.” Sylvain shrugs nonchalantly even though it still stings. “Most of the household left. What’s less than a skeleton crew? Either way—”

“That’s why you called me here? Because you scared everyone off?”

Sylvain frowns, offended. “I’ll have you know—they left before I arrived.” Rhesa leans in to pour him fresh coffee, not even bothering to hide her laughter. “Don’t you nag me too.”

“I said nothing, Lord Margrave.”

Felix regards her with a cool glance. “She talks to you like you’re a bug underneath her shoe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get a handle on her.”

“No, I like her.”

Oh. Both Sylvain and Rhesa pause, surprised by the off-handed compliment.

Felix turns back to his food, shoveling in a few bites like he’s a man starved. Judging by his thin shape, he is, just this side of hungry. He was wandering, said Ingrid in her letter. You know how he does, bothering others and forgetting about himself.

Rhesa bows, a neat little curtsey that is certainly mocking. “Why thank you, Your grace.”

Felix’s expression sours. “I’ll stop liking you if you keep calling me that.”

“Oh, leave her alone. She’s just doing her job.” Sylvain shoos her away and Rhesa leaves, giving him the same teasing bow. “Back to the matter at hand.”

“How’d you manage to get one of their Chiefs to write to you?”

“I didn’t. She reached out to me personally. It was odd—”

Felix’s mouth purses. “It stinks. She’s planning something.”

Normally, Sylvain would agree, but so far Ulla hasn’t done much other than watch. There’s been ample opportunity to launch an attack. “We’re barren here at the Manor. If she came on us, we wouldn’t be able to fight her off. She knows that.”

Felix hums, drumming his fingers against the word kitchen table. It’s less fancy than the dining room and a little more like home. They’re so used to roughing it that the glitz and glam of a proper dining set puts Sylvain’s teeth on edge. It’s warmer in the kitchen. Homier. Reminds him a little of Mercie, and other friends Sylvain’s surprised he misses.

“Marriage?” asks Sylvain.

It would make sense. Peace treaties are often drafted through a lens of land sharing and cultural exchange. The idea of it is awful but he could put together a dowry—

“You aren’t actually considering that, are you?” Felix’s face says it all—it’s an idea he despises.

“Why would you care? Aren’t you going to fuck off again once this is said and done?”

“Sylvain.”

“Ingrid told me, you know.” Sylvain’s tone is a little too proper. He pulls back, steeling himself for Felix’s ire because this is a conversation that is often started and never finished. What are we and where do we go? Sylvain’s been wondering for over a decade by this point. “You’ve been wandering around. The Meandering Swordsman—”

“It’s not as though there’s anything at Fraldarius Estate for me. We don’t guard the border.”

It’s a useless argument. They both know it, so they fall stagnant and turn back to their food. Sylvain munches at his toast and Felix pours another cup of coffee.

“It’s a two-day ride to their camp. She just wants to talk. Go with me and when we come back, you can do whatever you want. I won’t care.”

Felix’s expression is unreadable. He waits, almost as if he wants Sylvain to say something else but when he doesn’t, Felix just sighs. “Alright then.” He pauses, rubbing at the table again. “My horse. I pushed her too hard. She’s in no shape to ride.”

“That leaves you two options, then. You ride with me, or you walk.”

Ah, thinks Sylvain when Felix’s lip curls. There’s that annoyed look I love so much.

Felix chooses to ride with him which is both a blessing and a curse.

“You smell better, at least,” teases Sylvain, mouth near Felix’s ear as he leans over his shoulder. “Did Rhesa make you bathe?”

“I’ve been on the road for weeks. Do you think I like being dirty?”

“I think, given the opportunity, you’d live in your absolute funk for years—especially if it kept people away from you.” Felix’s silence in return speaks volumes, leaving Sylvain laughing into his neck. And maybe—just maybe—Sylvain thinks he relaxes just slightly, giving into the lighthearted teasing.

It’s a step backward. War was shit but Sylvain liked that it brought them close. He and Felix shared tents, food, and even cots, and blankets. Wandering hands, too-soft touches that Felix will deny if ever asked. But it happened, they happened.

Sylvain misses it.

Felix squirms.

It’s half a day into their travel and he won’t stop moving, sliding over the saddle, stimulating parts of Sylvain that he thought were dried out and useless. It’s just been him and his hand since the end of the war—and barely that.

The only other time they’ve ever shared a horse was after a battle one day where Sylvain was nearly dead. Felix found him in the nick of time, threw him over the back of Sylvain’s horse, and settled into the saddle before riding like the wind back to camp.

A close call. Too close.

This though—

Felix squirms, wriggling in his lap just so. Heat settles in Sylvain’s gut. This is too close, as well, Sylvain practically plastered against his back, arms loose around Felix’s waist to reach the reins. His forearms brush against Felix’s cloak, cinching his torso.

“Felix—”

“I can’t get comfortable. What kind of saddle is this?”

It isn’t built for two. Sylvain’s about to quip that when Felix shifts, slipping back over the hard leather of the saddle, ass meeting Sylvain’s groin.

They both freeze. Sylvain’s fingers tighten around the reins, pulling them taut. Even Felix is on high alert, cheeks flush. Oh, this is bad.

“Sylvain,” starts Felix. Even. Measured. “Are you—”

Sylvain’s definitely half-hard in his trousers. Has been for an embarrassing amount of time. “Can you blame me? Felix, you’re… and we’re—”

Well, they’re something. The what is up in the air, but there’s enough history for Sylvain’s dick to harden at the thought of the man, let alone his ass within reaching distance.

“You know how it is,” finishes Sylvain. He ignores the ache of his cock, willing his erection to go away. It only throbs harder.

Felix’s throat bobs as he swallows. His mouth parts but he’s slow to respond. “I—Yes. That’s—Sylvain.”

Sylvain didn’t realize one of his hands dropped the leather strap to rest against Felix’s thigh instead. Palm, flat against the lithe muscle, gloved fingers digging into the thick material of Felix’s trousers. “Sorry,” murmurs Sylvain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just… look, I’ll—”

He moves to pull away but Felix’s hand is quicker, snapping out to wrap around Sylvain’s wrist. He holds Sylvain’s hand there. The movement is subtle, instinctual, as he pulls Sylvain’s hand to his trousers instead.

“Oh,” breathes Sylvain. “Well. That’s—”

“Familiar,” mutters Felix. “Gods, it’s—I didn’t want to fall back into these habits so easily, but—”

“It’s hard not to.” Sylvain drops his chin to rest against Felix’s shoulder. “Honestly, I feel more stressed than I ever did during the war. It’s because I don’t know what to do with myself. But with you—”

“Are you going to keep yapping? Or are you going to take care of the problem?”

That surprises Sylvain. “Felix,” he says, voice tipping into something sultry, “we’re on a horse.”

“So the years of talk about your riding skills mean nothing, then? Put your hand where your mouth is.”

Sylvain puts his hand elsewhere. Takes little effort and no time to undo the front of Felix’s trousers, wrapping his fingers around his cock. A soft sound falls from Felix’s mouth, and shit, Sylvain’s missed this.

“My glove—”

“You’ll get frostbite.”

“I’d rather feel your cock.”

“The glove is fine.”

Sylvain keeps his eyes on the icy path, letting the lilt of their horse’s gait drive them. All the while, he strokes Felix’s cock, sighing at the familiar heft of it against his palm. Precome already dribbles at the tip, leaking down the side. Sylvain sweeps his thumb through it.

“How long were you hiding this?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Is this why you were squirming?”

“No.”

Oh, it is. He can tell by the way Felix’s body goes taut, pulled straight as a bowstring, tight with tension. Sylvain chuckles, squeezing his cock tighter as he jerks it. “Oh, that’s cute.”

“Idiot,” snaps Felix. “Imbecile. You—this is your fault.”

Sylvain hums at that, moving his hand lazily. His own cock twitches in his trousers, desperate to be relieved, but he’s enjoying this too much. Felix tries to keep quiet but a moan slips loose. Delicious. Sylvain feels his gut swoon at the soft whimper.

“Shh. Can’t spook the horse.”

“Fuck you,” bites out Felix. “Fuck you, and—oh.”

“Like that?” A twist of his fingers around the tip of his dick. His thumb settles underneath the crown, tracing the vein on the underside. “I haven’t forgotten what you like.”

As if he could. The sight of Felix in his bed is seared into his brain. It keeps Sylvain company on cold and lonely nights or bath times or the sheets in his bed. Anywhere, really. He shoves his nose into Felix’s nape, inhaling. Sweat and soap. Crisp, brisk winter. Felix.

Sylvain moves his hand faster, using Felix’s precome to slick his hand. Still a little dry but he knows that Felix likes the friction. His hips move, bucking ever so slightly into Sylvain’s hand, chasing the heated touch of his glove.

“I’m—”

“Are you close?” Sylvain kisses the juncture of his jaw, right where it meets his neck. “So quick. Mhmh, I would be too.”

“Get on with it.” Felix’s voice is pinched. “I don’t want to hear you prattle.”

“You want to come?”

“Yes.”

Sylvain laughs and moves his hand faster, stroking his cock with a well-practiced touch. Felix whines, wiggling in the saddle. His hips move, meeting every downstroke of Sylvain’s fingers with an aborted thrust. It takes no time until he’s spilling into Sylvain’s hand with a groan.

“There’s a good boy,” says Sylvain into his ear. He wipes his hand on the rag in his saddlebag.

“Shut up,” is Felix’s acerbic reply. Still, he shudders, still coasting the high of his orgasm.

Afterward, they fall quiet. Felix closes his trousers and the horse continues on, entirely unaware. Sylvain's chest is pressed to Felix’s back. His cock is still hard against Felix’s ass, aching with the need for release.

But Sylvain behaves. Takes hold of the reins properly and wills himself to just hold Felix close.

Felix doesn’t push him off.

Later, when the moon is high and the fire dulls to burning embers, Felix slips into Sylvain’s cot.

“You can tell me to leave,” he says in a hush.

Sylvain pulls Felix close, an arm around his middle, hand pressed flat against his stomach. He smells like outside when Sylvain leans in close, nuzzling the back of his neck. “You’re cold.”

“Yeah.” A pause. Sylvain yelps slightly when Felix presses his cold, socked feet against his shins. “Earlier…”

“Earlier?”

“You—” Felix “You didn’t… It was just me.”

Oh. Sylvain chuckles and kisses the base of his neck. “It’s fine. I know I teased you but I did as I wanted. I’m perfectly fine like this.”

“And if I’m not?”

Sylvain stills. “Do you regret—”

Felix’s response is immediate. “No.” Another pauses as he rubs his face, embarrassed. “I want… You said you missed this. I do too. I didn’t… I know that I’m not good with words, but this—this is something that we do well. Being just us.”

“Us,” murmurs Sylvain. “Against the world, right? I think we said something like that when we were kids.”

Us against the world. They’ll have to pry us apart.

It’s funny what time can do to a friendship and how love can pull two people apart. But it can bring them together. War was complicated but losing themselves in each other helped them through the hard times.

Still.

“You left,” says Sylvain into the hair at the base of Felix’s neck. His hair is loose, around his shoulders. Sylvain drags a hand through it, petting the silky strands.

“I didn’t know what to do. With my father gone and the Dukedom… I just—” Felix grunts. “There isn’t use in talking about this.”

“Felix—”

Felix moves, sitting up and turning to lean over Sylvain. “Your hand isn’t enough. Sylvain, I—I missed this. I missed you.” He hovers there, over Sylvain. Drags a hand down his chest, fingers dipping into the open collar of his shirt.

Sylvain’s tongue is thick in his throat. There are a thousand things he could say, but what spills from his mouth comes unexpectedly. “I love you.”

Felix snorts, his expression crinkling. “I know.” Then he dips low, crossing the distance, and it’s like falling back in time.

Sweet, staggering kisses. Heated touches and the soft slide of fabric as they shuck their clothing off. It’s too cold to get undressed, but it’s enough, opening Sylvain’s shirt and tossing their pants to the side. Felix’s skin is searing hot against Sylvain as he straddles his hips.

The thing is that Sylvain doesn’t need to hear Felix say those words back. Sylvain knows it and feels it in the way that Felix presses against him. In calloused fingers that drag down his bicep and across his chest. Nails that dig into his chest hair, scratching through it.

The way that he kisses him, all tongue and lips, and how he slots their hips together. Sylvain’s already hard, cock twitching as it leaks against his stomach. Felix’s hand is frozen, icy against his heated length.

“Sylvain,” he mutters against his mouth. Sylvain bucks into his hand with a whine. “Sylvain,” repeats Felix, kissing the sharp line of his jaw next.

It’s too soft but perfect. War isn’t lingering at their backs, ready to strike. They don’t have to be quick and quiet, they can drag this out and do as they wish, which they do.

One finger first, pressed into searing hot heat.

“The fucking saddle oil,” hisses Felix, as if they haven’t used it before. “Fuck.”

“Easy does it,” says Sylvain, laughing against Felix’s throat. Felix hangs over him, rutting back against his hand. “Slow down, for fuck’s sake.”

“Goddess, you’re—oh, that’s—”

Sylvain fucks him lazily on several fingers until Felix is a sweaty mess, chest heaving and cheeks pinched pink. He’s flush down to his sternum, reddened skin on display in the split of Felix’s shirt.

When Felix finally slides onto his cock, it’s too tight. Sylvain looks skyward and counts the stars. His nostrils flare as he tries not to immediately bust. So, so good.

And Felix—the way he hangs over him, the tips of his fingers pressed into the meat of Sylvain’s chest. How he immediately moves, rolling his hips, trying to force Sylvain’s cock deeper. Takes him at the right angle and then he’s seeing stars, crying out as they push and pull at each other.

It’s quick. Lasts barely moments, Sylvain holding Felix tightly around the hips as he’s ridden. He pulls Felix into every thrust, back arching up from the ground. The slick slap of skin. Felix’s soft, biting curses. Sylvain tumbles over the edge first, coming into Felix’s ass, and painting his insides white.

Felix drops his hips, grinding against him. Fucks his cock into his own palm until he’s spending himself all over Sylvain’s abs.

Sylvain laughs, wiping the sweat from his brow. “No better than fumbling teenagers having their first roll in the hay.”

“Surely better than that.”

“What, is it bad otherwise?”

“What? No?” Felix looks offended.

Sylvain laughs again, his smile warm and affectionate. He pulls Felix’s hand to his mouth for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says.

“For fucking you?” Felix scoffs.

“For coming back to me.”

Felix is quiet as he slips off his cock. Minimal clean-up, wiping at themselves with a dirty, soiled shirt. Felix pulls on a fresh top and slips back into the cot, slotting against his side.

“I didn’t come here for you,” he says, just as he always does.

“Yeah, I know. You came for yourself.” Sylvain presses a kiss on his forehead and Felix sighs.

They don’t talk much after that, they just count the stars in the sky together until their eyes are drooping. It’s the best sleep Sylvain has had in a year.

Sylvain and Felix find the Srengese Clan of Dahl two days from Gautier Manor, just at the border.

They are led into the center of the camp where a cookfire is blazing and meat is slow roasting as it's turned on spits. Sylvain’s back is sore from their late-night romp on the hard ground—and then a second in the morning. Felix let him fuck his thighs, still half asleep and dozing before spilling himself into Sylvain’s awaiting palm.

“Is this your husband?” Ulla asks it without judgment despite expecting an entourage, not two tired men and day-old clothing. She is a serious-looking woman, tall and muscular. Her dark hair is pulled into a thick braid that rests over her shoulder. Green eyes bore into Sylvain, dazzling with intellect.

“Not yet,” says Sylvain cheekily. Felix hisses, shoving an elbow right into his ribs. “Ow—fuck—”

Ulla bursts into laughter. Then, she extends a hand. “Humor,” she says. “I can’t say I expected that from you.” Sylvain shakes her hand firmly, wincing slightly at her tight grip. “Now, tell me about your husband.”

“I’m not—”

“Yet,” cuts in Ulla with a wink.

Felix, for all his snark, does the unthinkable—he doesn’t correct her. He just rolls his eyes and lets the idea sit. “Your mother’s ring,” he says, turning to Sylvain. “That’s what I want—the plain band. It won’t get in the way of a sword.”

Sylvain has only a moment to be stunned before Ulla drags them over to the fire pit, shoving them down. Later, he thinks. Later, I’ll—

Felix sits next to him uncontested. He knocks their knees together, leaving them together for a grounding touch. They meet gazes for a tender moment. Ulla watches but says nothing as she spoons a savory stew into a bowl.

Sylvain finds that he doesn’t have a care in the world. His chest is light. Giddy.

Yeah, later.

#fe3h #sylvix #Sylvain/felix #fe3h fanfic #fe3h fanfiction #smut

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tutuandscoot · 3 years ago

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LOOK HOW PROUD HE IS OF HER

LOOK HOW MUCH HE ADMIRES HER

LOOK HOW GRATEFUL HE IS FOR HER

LOOK HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER!!!

To Tess: I don’t know what to say, I mean… We did it, kiddo! I don’t know that I deserve to be on the Walk of Fame, but I’m damn sure that YOU should be on the Walk of Fame. I’m so proud of you.

#coz pennielane decided to punch me in the feels at 1pm on a Friday #be still my fucking heart #BE STILL I SAID!#yeh the all caps what’s necessary #he knows more than anyone what she went through to achieve what they did #she gave her legs for him #she gave up the national ballet for him #she skated in pain for years FOR HIM #she would not be where she is without him #but he would also not be where he is with out her #they wouldn’t what they are without each other #he spent 22 years being in awe of her #I can’t even get through this moment without essentially bowing down to her #NEVER TELL ME AGIN HE DOENST LOVE HER OR DIDNT WANT TO BE WITH HER #HE WAS BY HER SIDE FOR 22 + YEARS AND THEY CREATED MAGIC TOGETHER #AND HE WILL always ALWAYS LOVE HER #he’s emotional not for the award but for his kiddo being recognised for all and more that she is #she hugs him like ‘I love my precious goofy boy he such a sap’#virtuemoir #tessa and scott #and their endless love for eachother #they are my dancing bbys don’t you dare touch them #the greatest ice dance team the world has ever seen #cwof #also that dress haunts me in my dreams #where was Tessa virtue at the Met gala???

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tommysparker · 3 years ago

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Never Forget You [Chapter 1]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

A/N: here’s the first official chapter! thank you so much for the support this series as already gotten. chapters will be posted every Saturday! enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. fluffy flashbacks. this isn’t even the worst of it mwhaha. paragraphed italics = flashback

[10 YEARS LATER]

The sky was as blue as his eyes. Not as dark and cloudy, but gave the same feeling of hope, peacefulness, and comfort. You could picture them vividly in your mind, even the small crinkle at the edges and the kindness they held, a warmness that matched your current aurora.

The two of you sat in the gardens for what felt like hours, deep in meditation. Your force signatures quickly became entangled with one another, your bond radiating around you, creating almost a shield bubble between the rest of the world and the two who sat inside.

Obi-Wan was the first to open his eyes, having never been one to sit still for long periods of time. He’s improved since he was a youngling, but still had a long way to go.

You, on the other hand, looked completely invested in your meditation. Your face was relaxed, although every now and then your eyebrows would furrow as you tried to maintain concentration. It was hard when a certain other was very distracting, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“I can feel you staring,” you said, eyes still closed. Obi-Wan was thankful for that fact because it means you wouldn’t see him blush in embarrassment from getting caught.

“I can feel you blushing, too.” This time, you opened your eyes and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t last long.” Anytime the two of you tried to meditate together, it would always end with Obi-Wan getting bored and asking to duel instead.

He quickly hid his face, pulling the hood of his robe over his head. “I’m not blushing, that’s childish.”

You giggled, leaning forward to lift the front of his hood. “Obi-Wan, you are the most childish person I know.”

The young man was about to protest before you hushed, eyes already closed once more as you returned to your deep state of awareness.

You opened your eyes and sighed, long and deep.

Standing up from the cold floor of your room, you looked out the window and gazed at the cloudy sky of Gyfill. The air felt chilly from the lack of life-forms in the area. After your first week on the planet, you decided it was a safer idea to seek shelter away from town. Considering your mission was to spy on the local Separatist groups, keeping a low profile was essential.

Today was different, however. The same cold and dull atmosphere were present, but the future is what held the divergent. For today, was the day you were finally to return home.

Home. The word itself felt familiar but distant. As a Jedi, you trained to hold little sentimental value. Attachments were forbidden, a path to the dark side. They provoked fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Once your bag of belongings was packed, you made your way to the marked location someone from the Jedi council sent earlier that morning. Mentally, you were not prepared to see everyone again. After being isolated for years and having limited contact with any life form outside of business, the many faces from your time at the Temple became slightly blurry. Except for his.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was on his way to the Archives when he bumped into Ahsoka Tano.

“Oh, Master Kenobi! Perfect, I was about to go look for you.”

“Ahsoka,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Who’s Y/n Y/l/n?”

Obi-Wan froze. The sound of that name echoed in his mind, paired with memories that he had locked away in the back of his mind. “Well...that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” was all he could manage to say, still trying to process all the past recollections that suddenly surfaced.

“So, you know them?”

“Uh, yes I suppose so. We were...close as younglings and trained together as Padawans. They were...the most skilled Jedi I ever had the pleasure of knowing, almost as good as Master Yoda.”

“If they’re so great, how come I never heard of them before?” Ahsoka tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip in classic ‘Ashoka manner’,

“They were sent away on an important mission years ago as far as I know. Er, why do you ask? And how did you come to know of that name?”

“Oh right. Anakin said the Chancellor told him that Master Y/l/n was returning today. He told me to ask you about it.”

Once again, Obi-Wan’s world paused.

He stood across from you, trying to maintain a neutral expression as he watched you load your bags onto the ship. However, you knew him better than that.

You walked up to the young boy and he took in your appearance. Gone was the braid that draped over your shoulder. Gone were the long robes you liked to hide in, in their place was a heavy jacket that looked like it was built to keep out the cold. Perhaps you were going to Hoth?

“Obi, you know I can’t tell you where I’m going. Master Windu was strict about his instructions,” You sighed, sensing your friend trying to deduce as much as he could. Your Master was very clear when he told you how classified the mission was. No one can know, especially Obi-Wan.

“Can you at least say how long you’ll be gone?” He practically begged, wanting something, anything he could get to keep his hope alive. Hope that you'll return soon. Hope that you weren’t truly leaving him.

You looked away, staring at the towers and passing hover-vehicles that littered the planet you’ve grown up on. “I don’t know.”

Everything had happened so suddenly. You were called into the council room that day to hear the news every Padawan dreams of. When Master Windu said you were ready for the trials, the first thing you went to do was tell Obi-Wan. The two of you celebrated that night in the gardens, a moment you would treasure for the rest of your life. Soon after you gained the title of Jedi Knight, you were once again called into the Jedi Council room to be debriefed on your first mission as a proper Jedi. You didn’t want to mess this up. You couldn’t.

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pull you into a hug and never let you go, instead opting to hold your shoulders and give you his signature charming smile. “Be safe, darling.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You held his wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and pressed a hesitant kiss to them before pushing them to his side. “May the force be with you.”

There was no pet name at the end, no ‘my friend’ or even his own name. It was a sentence that was meant to bring comfort, but the way you phrased it, the edge in your voice, made Obi-Wan feel everything but comforted.

He didn’t get the luxury of responding, for all he did was blink and suddenly you were on the ship, taking off into the clear blue sky.

You gazed at the clouds passing by as the ship flew into Coruscant’s atmosphere. The bright light and sunny day was a harsh change from the grey sky that fell over Gyfill. The energy emitting off of all the life-forms gave you a headache. You felt the Force all around you, swirling in the air and penetrating your soul. It was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for over a decade.

You flinched at the light as the door opened, suddenly feeling like a hermit crawling out of its shell. Slowly walking out of the ship, you pulled the cloak hood over your head, inhaling the strange but familiar scent of the Jedi Temple. You were still wearing your Gyfill civilian attire, the wool fabric made the Coruscant heat much more intense causing a few beads of sweat to form on your forehead. Or was it just the nerves of seeing all the people you left behind?

Master Windu stood at the end of the drop door, a smile on his face at the sight of his former Padawan. It was an occasion that called for a little joy, a moment to celebrate outside the war that raged through the galaxy.

You descended down the ramp, taking in a sharp breath at the feeling of another force sensitive. “Master Windu”. You bowed your head and he did the same to you.

“Master Y/l/n, it’s great to see you in person rather than as a hologram.”

You both chuckled lightly. “The feeling is mutual, Master. It’s...it’s good to be back.” Your eyes wandered over the people that roamed about. Jedi Masters walked with their Padawans at their side. Distant memories resonated within you. Some time ago that was once you and your Master, the man who stands before you know who has grown significantly older. Then again, so have I, you thought to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one registering your growth. Obi-Wan stood behind a pillar, glancing over the hanger in search of a familiar face. He was aware it would not be the same face he knew as a young boy, but he certainly was not prepared for what he saw.

You look older, which was the obvious and expected observation. He noted how you wrapped yourself in your cloak, similar to how you would in your youth. You stood tall in front of Master Windu, another trait you had kept since your days as a Padawan. He remembered how you would always act mature in the presence of Masters, something he never really understood until becoming a Jedi Knight. The need for approval by the superiors was a constant.

It wasn’t just your appearance that had changed either. He could feel it in the Force. There was a shift in it when you had landed that made an excited yet nervous chill run down his spine. You were stronger and held more control in your signature.

Before, he remembers being able to feel it from across the Temple. Now, it was barely there. He remembers feeling your bond drift farther as he watched you leave, and how it had dimmed over the years you were gone. He remembers the pain that tortured him every night as he laid awake in bed, trying to reach out across the stars but only being met with the vast emptiness of space. There was something in him that broke the first time he slept without having a tendril of your force signature connected with his. He felt cold, resorting to sleeping in his Master’s quarters in an attempt to ease the loneliness.

Overall, it would appear that nothing about you had changed, and yet it seemed everything was different. Almost everything.

His eyes were just as blue as the last time you saw them. They looked tired, haunted by the ongoing war but still filled with determination. Classic Obi-Wan.

You quickly broke eye contact the moment it was made, but that one second was more than enough for Obi-Wan to get lost in the familiar colour. His favourite colour in fact, not that he would ever admit you had any part in the decision.

“Master Obi-Wan?”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and suddenly became aware of the presence right next to him, that presence belonging to none other than Master Yoda.

“Master Yoda! I er I was just...uh...looking...for Anakin! Yes, uh have you seen him around by any chance?” Obi-Wan quickly tried to cover his stutter, feeling embarrassed about getting caught gazing from afar. Not that Master Yoda would know he was looking at you...right?

“I see,” the little green creature smirked in amusement. “Whatever it is, wait it can. Council meeting about to begin there is.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his eyes. Typically he was able to keep a good track of the meetings, but this was news to him. “What’s it about?”

“Master Y/l/n.”

“Hmm?” You hummed absentmindedly.

“Are you listening?” Master Windu raised an eyebrow.

“Oh uh, my apologies Master. I’m just...readjusting.” You tried to focus your attention on what Master Windu was saying, but the recognition of his presence made it difficult. For years, you tried to forget about him. You ignored the empty feeling in your stomach at night, the thoughts and memories that plagued your dreams. After some time, they eventually began to fade but never forgotten. It was for the best.

Master Windu crossed his arms. “There will be plenty of time for that after your debrief of the mission. Master Yoda and the rest of the council await.”

Oh, Force, not the council.

You would never dare to admit or even show it, but the council and being in the council room had always intimidated you. How could it not? You had to stand in the center of all the best Jedi of that era while they stare at you, judging you, sitting high and mighty in those stupid chairs.

“This way, my old Padawan.”

You followed Master Windu through the large halls of the Jedi Temple. You masked the nervousness that was no doubt radiating from your force signature. A multitude of thoughts ran through your mind, good and bad. Worst case scenario, you had done something so wrong that you were about to be kicked out of the Jedi Order. Nothing came to mind when you tried to think of any offence you had committed in the recent weeks since you earned the title of Jedi Knight.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the large council room doors opening, the creaking of the hinges made you cringe slightly.

The room was ominously lit, the only light source being the setting sun shining through the glass windowed walls. Master Yoda sat in his seat. All the other chairs were empty.

Master Windu took his seat as you stood before the two of them. He could see the questions rise from your confused facial expression. “Everything we discuss in this room stays between us, young Jedi.”

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. “Master Windu, Master Yoda. What is this about? Have I done something wrong?”

The two men looked at each other and shared an unreadable expression before turning back to you. Master Yoda was the first to speak. “Sending you on a mission we are. To Gyfill you will go.”

Whatever anxieties that you held before were washed away with this information. You contain your excitement, but the sudden mood shift was still noticeable. “Who am I going with? When do we leave? What’s the mission for?” It was rare that a Jedi would be sent on a mission alone, typically you were partnered up for safety measures. Obi-Wan’s face flashed in your mind, and although it was unlikely, a small part of you hoped he would be going with you.

“This mission only requires one Jedi. There’s a Separaist organization on the planet and we’re sending you to gain intel and report back to us. No one outside of this room can be aware of this information. You leave within the week. Understood?”

You frowned, “Forgive me Master, but why can’t anyone know?” The idea of having to leave your home seemingly without a trace made you iffy. Obi-Wan once again appeared in your mind.

Master Windu and Yoda exchanged a look before Windu responded almost hesitantly. “We have reason to believe someone in the Order is a traitor, and the number of people who are trustworthy is very limited.”

“You mean someone has betrayed us?” You asked in shock. How could anyone do such a thing? And a Jedi nonetheless.

“Time to answer your questions, there will be, young one. Prepare for your first mission now, you must.” Master Yoda said. “Prepare to say goodbye you should.”

It was as IF he could read your mind, which he probably could. You dreaded the idea of saying goodbye, especially when it was clear that there was no guarantee of your return date. How would you explain to your friends that you won’t be around anymore? What will Obi-Wan think?

“That is another subject that needs to be discussed.”

————————————————————————————

what else needs to be discussed? who’s the traitor? how will obi-wan and y/n get on after all this time? lemme know what you think!!

taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @dwarfplanet69 @katsukink @blondekel77 @generousrunawaydonut @fandomtrashwhore @fortheloveofaqueenfan @mrskenobi19 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @hotleaf-juice

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goldencherryhazz · 4 years ago

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my stress reliever

Sub!h x reader

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving) fluff and some swearing

A/N: so the grammys are tomorrow and I am not prepared physically or mentally, so I decided to write a little something to calm myself. Its nearly 2am so there’s probably a load of mistakes! Pls don’t copy my work. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night before the Grammys and Harry had to admit he was feeling a bit stressed but even more nervous, he was so grateful for the fact that he would not only be opening the show, but that he had been nominated for not one, not two, but three Grammys.

When he got the phone call from his manager Jeff he was over the moon and y/n was jumping for joy, whilst hugging Harry, he was also pretty sure he saw a couple tears slip down her cheeks. That feeling lasted for weeks, but now with less than 24 hours to go the nerves had definitely set in and he didn’t know how to soothe them and had been basking in his troublesome thought for the past 40 minutes.

Y/n was currently out shopping for some essentials but Harry wanted her to be no where else except in his arms, they had both become a bit clingy towards each other during the pandemic, they had heard lots of couples break up or get divorces, but with Harry touring all over the globe and y/n having to stay put for her own jobs hey were more than happy to spend months on end together.

When he heard the front door open he practically leaped up from his spot on the couch, rounding the corner to the hallway immediately spotting y/n carrying multiple bags, still clad in a coat and woolly hat, her cheeks slightly red from the cold air even though it was nearly half way through March.

‘Hiya baby’ she smiles at him

‘Hi angel, missed you’ he said fumbling with the ends of his fingers.

‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour H’ she chuckled slightly, sensing he wasn’t feeling himself and hadn’t been all day.

‘Wanna come and help me put some shopping away’ she asked starting to take her hat and coat off, before getting a nod of the head in return his shy eyes making contact with hers. She ventured her way through to the kitchen, Harry trailing his way behind her like a lost puppy, starting to feel a bit calmer just due to her presence.

They then started to putting items in their allocated places in their kitchen, working like a dynamic duo somehow knowing wherever the other was at each given moment. Once the last item was put away Harry folds away the bags and puts them in a cupboard to be used another time. He then stands there in front of her, strands of his hair falling into his face in which y/n reaches out to push them back, he nuzzled into the slight touch, craving closeness with his girl. He makes grabby hands towards her in which she immediately complied and crashed into his warm chest wrapping her arms round his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. He sighed deeply in contentness but with a hint of worrysome into the crook of her neck ‘what’s going on in that head of yours baby’

‘I’m just worrying about tomorrow’ he speaks honestly ‘there’s just loads of thoughts of what could go wrong running through my head, and I can’t stop them’

‘Well I know that once you get out on that stage you are going to take it and rock the hell out of it, cause that’s just you and no matter how much you doubt yourself I know you are going to be amazing no matter what happens, and I think I can speak for pretty much everyone when I say that, you’re incredible baby no matter if you win a Grammy or not, I don’t really care about a shiny piece of metal I care about you’

‘But what if I mess up the words to the songs, or fall over on stage or something stupid like that’ he rushes out.

‘Your overwhelmed baby, and that’s very understandable because you haven’t really been doing a lot of this stuff cause of the pandemic, you just need to get in the swing of things again, but I’ll be there every step of the way, don’t need to be nervous H I’m here’ she cooed as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

‘Thankyou angel, I love you, don’t know how much I needed to hear that’ he whispered kissing her neck.

‘I love you too, no need to thank me baby, that’s why I’m here, I’ll always be your moral support. If you want I can stand at the side of the stage with banners and everything,’ she says manoeuvring to grab a tea towel to demonstrate, she starts to swing her hips around, her body going in a circle with her hands in the air that was gripping the towel, whilst cheering ‘go H, go baby, go H, go baby.’ This made Harry laugh, a real laugh immediately lighting up the whole atmosphere. He swore he couldn’t live without this girl, who was dancing around the kitchen and would probably actually do what she was demonstrating on the side of the stage whilst he performed at the Grammys, because she cared about him that much.

‘There’s that smile, missed seeing that on your pretty face today’ she smiled right back at him, glad that he was happy again.

She made her way back to him, hugging him once again placing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

‘Wanna go upstairs and get all snuggy?’ She questioned.

‘Yeah, sounds perfect angel’

‘C’mon then’ grabbing his hand and leading them to their bedroom.

When they were half up the stairs y/n suddenly spins to face him again ‘you know, if your still feeling stressed I can help you even more, pretty sure I could eliminate all of it’

‘And how do you plan on doing that angel’

‘Oh my beautiful boy, the list goes on and on’ she says almost seductively.

They both knew where this was heading so they start to rush more up the stairs, excited to get to the bedroom, and as soon as they are and the door is shut behind them, Harry is pushed so his back was against the door before y/n starts kissing his lips hungrily, biting and sucking hickeys onto his neck making him groan ‘wanna be my baby boy tonight, just want to love you on you, make sure you’re totally stress free, how does that sound baby’

He whimpers at her words he could feel his length harden at her words ‘y-yes angel, want you to take control, wanna be your baby boy’

In turn y/n whimpers feeling her panties get wetter and wetter, she backed him up to the king-size bed, their lip connecting and reconnecting, the head in the room seeming to go up about 10 degrees, Harry loved it when y/n had her way with him, taking control of his pleasure, making him cum so hard he saw stars, he swore she was magical, the fact that he was worrying about every little thing about 20 minutes ago and now not having a care in the world, he could have been in the deepest, darkest whole and she still would be a been able to pull him out.

She turns both their bodies so that Harry’s would be the first to hit the bed, she was kissing him so hard it was making his knees buckle ‘do you want to take your shirt off and lay on the bed for me baby boy’ she says in which he quickly complies, lifting the fabric over his head, to see y/n doing the same taking her bra off at the same time, making him practically drool at the sight of her perky tits just begging to be played with.

He laid on the bed following her instructions, waiting for her to come over to him, and when she did y/n let out a small moan at the sight of his fucked out face and she had barely touched him, she loved it when he was like this, letting her take control when the roles were usually reversed, she just wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel, which was pretty dam amazing.

She leaned over kissing his lips, her tongue diving into his mouth dancing with his own, she pulled away slowly ‘what do you want me to do to you baby’ she asked already knowing the answer ‘want me to play with you cock’

He whimpered and nods, his doe eyes begging her to do something about the tent in his sweats.

‘Use you words baby, wanna hear you say it’

‘P-please angel, want y-you to play with my cock’

‘Okay baby boy’ she reaches down to the tie on his sweats undoing the bow slowly, almost teasing him making him squirm and moan out ‘please touch me angel, m’starting to ache’ she works quicker getting the trousers off of his legs before throwing them somewhere in the room, then going back to pull his boxers down his long legs, his cock finally springing free from its confines and gently hitting his stomach.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of his cock, the tip an angry shade of red leaking precum, the thick veins more prominent, his balls looking deliciously filled with cum, just ready for a release. She lays between his spread legs, wasting no time in gripping his girthy shaft in her hand making Harry throw his head back and stifle out a load moan, she smiled knowing she was making his feel good with only one touch. ‘Who’s made you this hard baby?’

‘You angel, only you’ he moans as she starts bringing her hand up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over his sensitive tip making him groan every time. She then brings her head down, making eye contact with his green orbs as he lifted his up, her lips encased his tip before going down inch by inch until she was about half way, Harry let out a prolonged moan, loving the feeling of her mouth in him. Y/n brought her head up after a few more seconds gasping for air ‘taste so good baby, can’t wait to taste that cum though’ he whimpered his legs spreading even more to give her more room. When she reattached her lips to his shaft she starts bobbing her head up and down, taking him down her throat aswell, her hand tugging the rest ‘feels so good angel’ he says whilst gathering her hair in a makeshift ponytail.

At this point y/n panties were soaked, she managed to get a little stimulation by grazing her clit on the rough fabric of her jeans, making her hum in delight around his cock. She brings her other hand down to his balls, rolling them in her palm. She then comes off his cock with a pop, taking one of his balls into her mouth instead, changing between the two all whilst tugging his cock.

‘M’gonna cum if you keep doing that’ his legs starting to shake around her

‘Well that was my aim, baby’

‘wanna have you wrapped around me when I cum, please angel’ he whimpered

And with that y/n was already unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, because how could she say no to him, her clit was starting to throb aswell, she smiled knowing that it wouldn’t take long for them both to cum, she straddles him bringing her lips to his once again, he grabbed hold of one of her tits massaging it before tweaking her nipple making her whimper into his mouth. She becomes desperate pulling away quickly before gripping his shaft and lining him up with her entrance, sinking down onto him with ease because of how wet she was. They both let out prolonged moans, loving the feeling of being wrapped around each other ‘pussys so fucking tight, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out, ‘think your cock was made for me too baby boy, stretches me out soo good’ placing both hands on his chest, she whimpers slowly lifting herself up before going back down, making a slow pace. They were moaning in unison the only sound in the room, and small whimpers of ‘baby’ and ‘angel.’ y/n brings her hand down to her clit starting to make small circles, knowing she wouldn’t need much to topple over she was amazed at how fast her orgasm was creeping up on her ‘m’gonna cum baby boy, you close’

‘Yes m’so close, your gonna make me cum so hard’ his legs starting to shake again, one of his tell- tale signs.

‘Cum with me baby’ y/n says not holding back anymore, with a few more thrusts and circles to her clit she was cumming, she whimpered the words ‘baby boy’ over and over, that’s when Harry toppled over he felt his cock twitch and with that he was releasing ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of her, he stopped breathing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, toes curling, legs shaking practically screaming profanities. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was gasping for air, a faint ringing in his ears.

Y/n leaned down to his chest kissing a few spots, now utterly exhausted ‘you okay baby’

‘Never cum so hard in my life angel, felt incredible’ he breathes out a lazy smile on his face.

She slowly lifted herself off of him, knowing he would be sensitive before laying down beside him ‘thankyou angel’ he whispers to her

‘What for?’ she asks

‘For making me forget all of my worries, for being my stress reliever, probably would have lost it by now if I didn’t have you’ he says sweetly. ‘I don’t know what I do without you either baby’ she says kissing his lips and then pulling his head to her chest, he nuzzled into her, his long arm draping the duvet over them, before gripping onto her waist.

‘Now go to sleep my beautiful three time Grammy nominated boyfriend, you’ve got a big day tomorrow’

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles imagine #harrystylesisgolden #love harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #fine line #harry styles is an angel #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #stress reliever #hazza styles #harold #sub!harry

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Words: 3,436 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: YOU'RE ALL GONNA LIKE THIS ONE. PRETTY SURE! :) This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Safe in Hilltop, Daryl and Y/N try to move on from what happened in The Sanctuary.

Your name: submit What is this?

In the middle of the night, Daryl suddenly gasped awake and shot upright in bed, startling you awake too. You could barely see his silhouette in the darkness, sitting up panting, with his knife extended in front of him. He was disoriented for a moment, trying to get his bearings.

You turned toward him slowly and leaned up on one of your elbows. “Daryl?” You gently touched his arm and he immediately melted under your touch, remembering where he was, lowering the knife and replacing it on the table next to him. He sank back against the headboard again.

“Sorry,” came his gruff voice in the dark.

“Don’t be. It’s okay. Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mm. Fine,” he said, but you didn’t entirely believe him.

You took a deep breath and moved closer to him on the bed. You extended your hand and found his arm, resting it lightly there and tracing idle circles with your fingertips over his skin. “Are you sure?” You were half-surprised that he hadn’t stiffened or recoiled at your touch, though you shouldn’t have been. He always melted under your touch. He relaxed beneath it.

“Mhm. M’okay,” he murmured.

“…you want to talk about it?” you asked.

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. It had been a nightmare that you were in—you were back with Negan and he couldn’t get to you. He didn’t want to speak it aloud in case it somehow manifested. “Nah. S’alright.” He loved the feeling of your hand still on his arm and he adjusted the pillow behind his back.

“Okay,” you said softly. You pulled your own pillow a bit closer to his side and settled back down onto it. Daryl could sense you beside him and it was comforting.

Soon, both of you were asleep again.

When you woke the next morning, Daryl wasn’t beside you anymore. You immediately climbed out of bed and threw on some jeans and a shirt, unable to help the slightly frantic feeling in your chest at his absence. You pulled on your boots and laced them up. When you pulled open the door of the trailer a little frantically, he was right there on the steps, sharpening a knife on a whetstone and you heaved a sigh of relief.

He looked back at you and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards. His heart leapt in his chest. You looked so much brighter than you had even the night before.

He turned back to the knife, hoping you couldn’t see his ears turning pink.

You sank down beside him on the steps of the trailer. “You scared me,” you admitted softly. “When I woke up and you weren’t there.”

He looked over at you briefly. “M’right here.”

You nodded. “Yeah, well, I see that now.”

“Ya ain’t gotta worry about that,” he said, punctuating his words with the grinding of steel on stone. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere without ya.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest at his words. “You better not,” you said.

Maggie appeared around the corner and smiled at you. “Mornin’, you two,” she greeted you with a smile. “You look loads better. Both of you. Sasha was lookin’ for you, Y/N,” she said.

You stood up, pressing a hand down on Daryl’s shoulder as you got up. He glanced at it as your fingers parted from the fabric of his shirt. “Okay. Where is she?”

“Just down toward the gate,” Maggie said. You started off and she took your place on the steps beside Daryl. “How are you doing?” she asked him.

He shrugged and grunted a little, focusing on the blade of his knife.

“Yeah…” she said thoughtfully. “Same.”

He paused with the knife in his hand and stared for a moment. Maggie glanced over and took in the thoughtful look on his face. He was anxiously chewing his bottom lip again. “I just—I don’t understand why—” he broke off, staring out across the green space in front of Barrington House, the direction in which you had gone.

“Why what?” Maggie prodded.

He shrugged slightly and ducked his head. “Y/N. What she did—”

Maggie nodded and looked down toward her boots, the tiniest smile curving her lips.

“She risked everythin’. He coulda killed her and if he didn’t—” he wrung his hands and clenched one of them into a fist, “—she knew what was waitin’ for her. I can’t make any goddamn sense of it. What she had to—” He broke off again with an exhale that was more like a growl than anything.

Maggie nodded. “If it were reversed, if Negan had her prisoner and you were out, what would you do?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed over his blue eyes and Maggie smiled slightly again.

“Exactly. Then what is there that you don’t understand, Daryl? She did it for you.” She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and got up, leaving the archer to ponder over his conflicted thoughts and the fluttery feeling in his chest.

After a while, Daryl went looking for you after you hadn’t returned to the trailer. He found you with your hands covered in soil, leaning over a garden bed, smeared with dirt practically up to your elbows. “Hey. What the hell are ya doin’?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder at him and smiled widely. “What’s it look like?” you asked, tilting your head toward the garden bed.

“Playin’ in the dirt,” Daryl said, a small smirk on his face. It was good to see you relaxed and happy.

You raised your eyebrows at him and let out a small laugh. “I’m helping plant these seeds they just brought back,” you said, grabbing a clod of soil and whipping it at Daryl, catching him in the chest.

He flinched and glared at you which only made you smile wider and laugh again. “Watch it,” he growled.

You stood up, brushing the soil from your hands. “Or what? You gonna do something about it, Dixon?”

He shook his head at you, taking in the light in your eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d never guess that you had been essentially in a living nightmare just a few days before. “I might,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I still owe ya for pushing me in the damn pond that one time…”

You laughed heartily. “Uh huh. I’m real scared,” you said. You looked back down at your dirty hands and clothes. “I need a shower.”

“Mhm,” Daryl agreed. “C’mon. I’ll walk back with ya.”

Your boots stomped up the stairs to the trailer and Daryl followed you inside, immediately grabbing the crossbow he had claimed from the armory and fiddling with it as he sank down on the couch.

You were grabbing some clean clothes and heading toward the bathroom when you heard Daryl’s voice behind you again.

“Y/N—”

You glanced back at him.

He hesitated for a moment, apparently anxious about something, and seemed to suddenly think better of what he had been about to say. He waved you off, ducking his head. “Ah… Never mind,” he said. His heart was absolutely pounding in his chest.

You quirked a brow at him. “Okay… I’ll be back. And clean.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

When you came out of the bathroom, Daryl was still sitting on the couch with the bow beside him. He was sharpening some new bolts now. He looked up when you stepped out and his heart did what it always did when he saw you and annoyingly skipped a beat. The hot water had brought warm color into your cheeks.

You smiled at him and set your dirty clothes down before going to sink down next to him on the couch.

He didn’t even glance at you. That was unusual. You could tell he was holding something back.

“You okay?” you asked him.

He sighed and shrugged. “I should be asking you that.”

“No. You went through just as much as I did. Maybe more.”

He shook his head and skinned another strip of wood off the bolt with his knife. “Nah. That ain’t true.”

“Daryl.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“Daryl. Hey,” you said again, more forcefully, and this time you put a hand lightly on his arm. He froze instantly. “You need to really listen to me right now. Whatever they did to you, whatever happened in there, and I have some idea because I was in one of those cells at one point, you didn’t deserve any of it.”

His chest started to heave a little.

“You didn’t and you don’t,” you said quietly. He glanced at your hand on his arm. “You—you deserve only good things. The best things.”

He stayed silent but you could see him again battling emotion.

“I know this is all a lot… A lot has happened really quickly. I mean, I’m still spinning from it but I need you to know that. You deserve only the best things.” He finally met your eyes, peering at you through the strands of his hair hanging over his face.

He didn’t really acknowledge what you said, but he inclined his chin. “C’mon. Let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

That was enough to make you smile at him and nod. You headed over to Maggie’s trailer and were surprised to see Jesus there. “Hey!” you greeted him. “It’s good to see you back,” you said.

He looked at you with the light in his eyes glistening a little and shook his head. “Maggie was just telling me how you both came to be here. And I’m sorry about Gregory. You really can just ignore him. You can stay here as long as you need to.”

“Thanks,” Daryl said, holding out his hand for a handshake. It was a nice gesture considering the fight they had once had over a certain truck which ended up at the bottom of a pond.

Jesus appreciated it too, smiling at him, and gladly shaking his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you,” he said. “I got us a little present courtesy of The Saviors,” he said. He held up a handheld two-way radio. “Now, we can listen in.” His expression turned more serious. “They know you’re both gone by now obviously. They’re on their way to Alexandria tonight to search for Daryl, but they don’t seem to know where to look for you, Y/N.”

The air felt like it suddenly went out of the room. Daryl nodded. “Well, they ain’t gonna find me in Alexandria. And they ain’t gonna find Y/N.” You were surprised by the finality in his voice as he said it, and even more so when he simply pulled out a chair and sat down. “We eatin’ or what?” he asked. He glanced up at you and then looked at the empty chair beside him.

You nodded and pulled it out, taking a seat and gratefully accepting the stew Maggie dished out. Daryl ate ravenously but you still only picked at your food and he noticed. “Hey,” he said in an undertone to you. Everyone else was talking with Jesus about what to do about Gregory and The Saviors. “Ya gotta eat. Can’t have ya passin’ out again.” His blue eyes were steady on your face. “I’m gonna need ya by my side when we fight these assholes,” he said.

He watched something change in your face, uncertainty maybe, but eventually you nodded and turned back to your food, choking it down despite the fact that you weren’t hungry at all. It wasn’t lost on Daryl that you were reserved throughout the rest of the meal. He hoped you were just tired, still recovering, but he had a feeling it was something more. You were worried.

Everyone had finished eating and there was a natural silence. You decided to speak what was on your mind. “So, when are The Saviors coming here?” you asked. “And what are we gonna do when they show up?”

Jesus nodded. “I’m guessing they’ll be here for a pick-up tomorrow or the day after.”

“We need someplace to hide, or a way to get out unseen,” Maggie said.

Sasha nodded. “I thought of that. I dug a tunnel that goes under the wall. Hid it in that wood bin on the other side of Barrington House. Goes straight out into the woods.”

“Good. Jesus, do you have any ideas for where else we might be able to hide, just in case we can’t get to it?” Maggie asked.

He nodded. “We can put a false back wall in the root cellar. Bring the shelves forward so there’s space to hide you all back there.”

Daryl nodded. ‘S’good. I’ll do it in the morning, first thing.” He glanced over at you. You still looked worried.

Jesus noticed too. “What is it, Y/N?”

You shrugged. “Maybe Gregory was right,” you said softly. “Us being here. It is putting all of you in more danger.”

“We’re all in danger anyway when it comes to The Saviors. And where are you gonna go?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Just out there,” you said. “I’ve done it before.”

“Nah,” Daryl said. “They managed to find Dwight and his wife out there anyway before I saved their asses. We’re safer behind the walls, from walkers and from them. They’re gonna be combing the woods for ya. We can’t just be sittin’ ducks out there.”

You considered his words, chewing the inside of your cheek and finally nodded. “Okay.” You looked to Daryl. “I trust you,” you said. You climbed to your feet. “Thanks for dinner,” you said. “I’m pretty exhausted. Think I’m just gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Daryl stood up too and nodded at Jesus as everyone murmured goodnights. He followed you out of their trailer and back over to the one you were sharing. Your boots were heavy on the stairs as you climbed them.

“What is it? That wasn’t everythin’ that’s worrying ya,” Daryl said as he shut the door behind himself.

You sighed and pressed your hands over your face. “Alexandria. I just hope things didn’t go too bad there today, when they’re looking for you.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Rick will take care of everybody.”

You nodded, fiddling with a pair of sweatpants from your stack of clean clothes. You disappeared into the bathroom and changed, washing your face and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back out into the other room Daryl was sitting on the couch and he looked up at you expectantly.

He had to ask. He felt like he was about to burst. He needed to hear it from your lips. “Why’d ya do it?” he asked, gravel thick in his voice, and his tone almost desperate. “I still don’t—I don’t understand why ya would accept everythin’ that you knew was gonna happen to ya. Just to get me out. Even for me, just the thought of Negan putting his hands on ya—” His jaw clenched. “Let alone the sight of it…” he trailed off.

You wandered over to him and sank down next to him. Now your heart was beating hard in your chest as you looked back at him. You lifted your hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes, clasping his face, your fingers grazing over the stubble on his jaw. His eyes were somewhat bewildered at the intimacy. He couldn’t keep them from flitting down to your lips and back up to your eyes. Your touch back at The Sanctuary was one thing; you were desperately worried about him. But here?

You gently reached out and took the bolt and the knife he had in his hands, leaning forward for a moment to set them down on the table in front of the couch before turning back to him again.

You angled your body toward his, watching as he nervously fidgeted with his hands now. You clasped his face again and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. He turned toward you at the action but you didn’t pull back. Your faces were inches apart and he didn’t withdraw. Neither did you. You clasped his face again and shut your eyes, leaning in and finding his lips with yours, pressing just a soft kiss to them, light and gentle, before drawing back, nervous to read his expression. You thought for sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

He sat there, frozen, just staring at you, confusion in his eyes and you started to feel an anxious blush rising in your face. You opened your mouth to speak, drawing away from him a little, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice.

Daryl watched your expression change to one of mortification but he still felt paralyzed.

“Oh,” you said, struck suddenly by the realization that he wasn’t reacting at all as you’d hoped. You stood up abruptly from the couch and drifted away from him. “I’m—Daryl, I—I’m sorry.” Your cheeks were burning pink. You turned and practically ran out of the door of the trailer, your chest heaving and your mind spinning. You rushed behind Barrington House and ended up at Glenn and Abraham’s graves, sinking down onto a nearby rock and finally letting the tears of humiliation leak out of your eyes, feeling like your heart was breaking. You’d gotten it wrong—and now had potentially ruined the most important relationship in your life. The stoic archer was the most important thing to you. How could you have been so stupid?

Back in the trailer, Daryl was still frozen on the couch, reeling from what had just happened. Had that really just happened? And he hadn’t kissed you back, hadn’t stopped you from running out when you obviously thought you had made a huge mistake—thought he hadn’t wanted it. Ya fuckin’ idiot… he cursed at himself. The trailer door was still open, letting in a draft of cool evening air. Daryl went to stand at the threshold and looked outside, searching for you, but he couldn’t spot you anywhere.

He closed the door behind him and sank down on the top step, determined to wait for you to come back. But you didn’t. Increasingly worried, Daryl went in search of you again. He checked the stables and all the guard posts. He even checked the medical trailer, but no one had seen you. He walked through the gardens, thinking he’d see your familiar frame around every turn, but he was disappointed each time. He was standing back in front of the trailer, unsure where to look for you next, running a rough hand over the stubble on his face when he heard your voice behind him.

“Hey.”

He spun on his heel and looked at you. “Y/N—”

You held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t say anything,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I’m—really sorry… Can we just… pretend that didn’t happen?” You rubbed at the achy feeling in the middle of your chest absently.

“No,” came Daryl’s gruff reply. “We can’t.”

You looked up at him, feeling a little sick, your eyes questioning. “Please, can’t we—”

“No.” Daryl chewed his bottom lip in that anxious way he always did. One of his hands clenched and unclenched in a fist. He was staring at you, taking in how miserable you looked. You were ashamed and embarrassed, thinking you had made a complete ass of yourself. Daryl couldn’t wait any longer. He closed the space to you in three long strides and suddenly his hands were on you. One of them was at the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in the silky locks of your hair and the other was pressed against the small of your back, sweeping you into him, his lips on yours. This time he was kissing you, and it was feverish, and hungry, and wanting, and a little clumsy in his eagerness.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #my gifs #daryl fluff

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bloodpacks-archive · 4 years ago

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'tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.' with saeyoung please and thanks. you know he would bitch you know he would :) love you

hi hi love u too also everyone go listen to just like honey by the jesus and mary chain this is an order

honeyed | saeyoung choi

warnings: i can’t really think of anything but essentially saeyoung really likes his girlfriend and thinks she’s very pretty and he goes out to do work in the cold and doesn’t wear a fucking coat

word count: 2.1k

The cold bites into Saeyoung’s fingers, pressing at his skin as he reworks the security system. He curses himself over and over for not grabbing the gloves before he came outside. Snow falls down and around him, landing on the exposed skin of his hands as he works. It stings as it hits his flesh, and he sighs, leaning his forehead against the cool metal in front of him and closing his eyes. He’s almost done, if he can just keep it together for five more minutes in this damn cold.

He pulls down the sleeves of his jacket and feels a shiver run through his back and down the rest of his body. The tip of his nose feels almost numb, so he brings his hands up to his face, blowing warm air into cupped hands (or sleeves, he supposes) until he can feel his nose once more. His glasses fog with the warmth of his breath, but it’s quick to go away. He shakes out his hands, and then he returns to his work.

Though his mind is quick to know what he has to do, his fingers are moving much slower than they would normally. They hurt as he tries to move them through the wires, but it’s only a few moments later when he finishes, and he immediately tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. He lets out a breath as he watches the system return to life, a little green light flashing back at him, though the chill of the air leaves his vision foggy from his own breathing. When the light stays on for a few seconds, he rushes back into the bunker, stretching out his hands and hoping to get feeling to return to them.

His ears burn, and he knows just from the feeling that they’re bright red. He shakes as he tries to take his jacket off, hanging it back up beside the entryway. He massages his hands, hoping to return the blood back to them, but it seems that no matter how much he tries, they still hurt with the feeling of the freezing outside air. As he sniffs and brings a hand up to feel the chill of his nose, he hears something—a sweet sound, something floating through the walls of their bunker and filling it with a lovely set of chords.

Is that music? He wonders, kicking off his snow-ridden shoes to follow the sound that seems to fill their little home. He turns a corner into the kitchen, and sees her there, her phone sitting on the counter away from her, music flowing out of its speakers. Her back is turned to him, and she’s much more focused on the sway of her hips and the two mugs in front of her to have noticed his presence anyway.

A smile creeps onto his face as he moves towards her, his steps quiet and light on the floor. She’s mixing something into the mugs, her fingers delicate on a spoon as she swirls whatever’s in there. He places his hands on her waist, the thick material of her (his) sweatshirt between their skin. The sweatshirt hangs loosely on her, the neck wide enough to expose a large part of the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the flesh there.

She laughs, a warm hello falling past her lips as she tilts her head away from him to allow him to continue to run kisses up her shoulder and neck. A smile pulls at his lips as he plays with the hem of her shirt, until finally he slips his hands beneath it and feels the touch of her warm, bare torso against the chill of his fingers. At the same time, he buries his nose into her skin, feeling the warmth on her neck as well. She gasps, turning around in his arms and squirming a bit at his touch.

“Saeyoung!” She scolds, and he laughs, low, bowing his head until their foreheads almost meet. Her hands come up to his cheeks, and he hadn’t realized until then just how cold his entire face was. Her hands are so warm against him, he wants to bury himself as far into her as he can possibly go, feel her touch all along his skin until any chill that’s ever lived in him can be dispelled.

She brings his gaze up to hers, guiding him with her hands. She turns his head, her fingers running over his skin. She traces the shell of his ear and he hears her sigh. Her hands return to his cheeks and his gaze is back on hers once more. Her brows are furrowed, her eyes flitting over his face. He notices that, despite the way she gasped at his touch, she hasn’t dared to move his hands out from under her sweatshirt. He lightly rubs his thumb against the flesh of her hip and feels the way she shivers under him.

“You’re so cold,” She begins, “I didn’t realize how long you were out there.” Her fingers return to his ear, and he can’t even feel her fingertips against him. He knows she’s warm though, and he’ll take that warmth as much as he can. “God,” She breathes through bitten laughter, “You are such an idiot. Why didn’t you wear more layers?”

“I had a jacket-“ He begins, but he’s cut off by a pointed look.

“A coat next time, please. And gloves. And maybe a hat too.” Her voice softens towards the end of her sentence, and she leans to look at his reddened ears once more. She sighs again, and then leans up, pressing her lips to his cheek, only a little bit in front of his ear. He hums, and then follows her as she pulls away, leaning in until he’s buried his face into the crook of her neck. Her hands move to his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as he pushes himself further into her. The music still plays throughout their kitchen, and she moves her hands to the rhythm until suddenly he’s doing the same to her. His hands are now up and around her back, still beneath her sweatshirt, but he’s wrapped them around her, and now he’s begun to trace the patterns in her flesh in line with the song that seems to envelop them.

“You’re so warm,” He mumbles into her skin. She laughs again, and then he feels the way she presses her lips to the top of his head. He pulls away from her then, letting his hands return to her hips. Her hands settle around his neck, but then she moves one of them up, her finger lightly tapping his nose.

“Still red,” She says, but he follows her touch until he’s leaned back into her, using his nose to barely trace up her neck and down her jaw.

“But now I can feel you,” He replies, and he relishes in the way her skin feels against him. Now, he’s begun to warm up more, and he can feel the way her skin presses against him, can feel more than just the subtle touch of warmth and pressure. He knows the divots of her body, can feel the texture in the flesh of her hip.

“And your ears?” She asks, and he feels her hand come up to trace one of them. “How about them?”

He hums. “Still numb,” He replies, voice flat. She shakes her head at him, but there’s laughter in her breath, and she leans up then, pressing her lips to the outside of his ear in a sweet kiss. Then she twists in his arms to kiss his other ear, and then returns to the first side to kiss his cheek, repeating the motion slowly—moving closer and closer to the center of his face until she’s kissed both corners of his mouth.

“Your hands are warmer,” She notes, before reaching up to press her lips to the tip of his nose.

“How unfortunate,” He replies, lightly pressing his fingertips into her hips, “Seeing you squirm was so much fun.”

She scoffs, swatting at his chest before turning away from him to attend to the almost-forgotten mugs that sit on the counter behind her.

“Anyway,” She begins, “I made tea for you.” She pushes one of the mugs closer to him on the counter, motioning for him to take it, and so he begrudgingly moves his hands away from her waist and onto the mug that sits in front of him.

It’s not hot, but it’s warm, and steam still rises and swirls in front of them as they both move to take sips.

“It’s not as hot as it was when you came in, but it has honey in it,” She interrupts herself to take another sip from her mug. “You know, just how you like it.” She tilts her head at him, and she’s right, it is exactly how he likes it; his favorite kind of tea that V had bought him so many years ago, and now he keeps buying because God that guy knows his teas, and just a little bit of honey to make it a little sweeter.

And it’s weird, standing in front of her, his ears still numb from the cold but the rest of him so warm with something other than the physical kind. She looks so beautiful in front of him, one of his favorite mugs so big in her hands, her hair falling around and into her face, his sweatshirt hanging off of her shoulders.

Without another thought, he puts his mug back down onto the counter and plucks hers from her hands as well, placing it right next to his. She looks at him with a quirked brow, her head tilted and her lips drawn into a smile as he moves. When he raises a not-quite-warm-enough hand to her cheek, she doesn’t hesitate to lean into his touch. He leans in then, and finally presses his lips to hers.

She tastes sweet, just like honey and citrus and whatever else is in that damn herbal tea. She melts into his touch, quick to follow him in whatever action he takes. He pulls away to look at her, lets his eyes flit over her face for as long as she’ll allow him. His thumb brushes over her cheekbone, and he can feel the way her cheeks pull into a smile beneath his touch.

She moves forward to press another short kiss to his lips, but he goes to follow her as she pulls away. She laughs, sugared breath across his nose, and brings her hand so it sits between them as a divider.

“No,” She teases, a smirk pricking at her voice, “I didn’t make this tea just for you to get distracted and let it cool.” A soft whine leaves his throat, making her laugh a little more, but he complies—though he does grab her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before finally letting her go.

They both return to their tea, but he hardly lets them move out of their position. She’s still leaned against the counter, and he doesn’t dare move any farther away from her—he likes being able to comfortably rest his hand on her hip anyway.

And so they sip their tea together—sometimes interrupted by kisses, though neither of them can be entirely sure who starts them after a while—and eventually Saeyoung forgets the cold from outside. He’s warm here, and she’s here, and when she laughs into his skin, or when he can feel the way she smiles against him, there’s hardly room for anything but an overwhelming warmth all throughout his body.

When they’ve both finished their tea, he sets their mugs to the side, and leans in close to her once more. His nose brushes against her jaw and her ear, and he presses kisses to any skin he has access to.

“What about now?” He whispers, “Can I be distracted now?”

She laughs, twisting so he has to look at her—though he could hardly describe that as any kind of chore.

“Yes,” She replies, “Certainly.”

And so he does—he becomes entirely enraptured by her. He lifts her up onto their countertop, and she gasps a bit at that, but he’s quick to lean up and press his lips to hers.

And she still tastes sweet, just like honey and citrus, the warmth of the tea so clear on her lips.

And that music still plays throughout their kitchen. Just like honey, it repeats, guitar chords filling up their entire home.

Just like honey.

tag list: @drketim @kimjihyun @dis-gorl

#saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung choi x reader #707 x reader #luciel choi #luciel choi x reader #mysme fanfic #mysme #mystic messenger fanfic #kimjihyun #mystic messneger

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h34rtizuku · 3 years ago

Text

𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔶

i hate angst without happy endings, but i’m also self-destructive. therapy is expensive, but ripping your own heart out and bearing your insecurities into a full-fledged story for you and others to read? free.

warnings : angst without a happy ending, insecurities, jealousy, mayhaps toxic behavior?? idk if ur looking for a good time, this isn’t for you bestie <3 also i might misspell uraraka’s name wrong a few times, i’ll fix them later :*

being quirkless had its advantages. with such a small number of us being born without powers, it left a lot of the mundane jobs open.

which is why, as soon as pro-hero deku opened his agency, i came to him with the request to be his assistant.

on the daily, he had people coming up to him asking for internships or to be his sidekick. but he never had anyone ask to be his assistant.

being the number one hero often meant that every day things, things one may take for granted or deem insignificant became just another list of things on the busy man’s to-do list.

therefore the appeal of having someone file his paper work and run to get him coffee in the morning was great enough to hire me.

and i was glad he did.

this is what i have been working for since i was a first year in high school. after watching the freckled boy break limb after limb to defeat his opponent.

yeah, i saw it as irresponsible and stupid that he had to break his own body to save others. but i was willing to overlook it.

my one goal during my remaining years of high school and up to college was that wherever that little green haired boy went, i would follow.

and that reigned true as his assistant. i would shuffle after him like a duckling following it’s mother, wherever he needed me.

if he needed me in a briefing to take notes for him, i was there. if he needed me to put in overtime to help him file the last minute paperwork, i was there. if he wanted a particular pastry from a specific bakery half way across town, i was there.

izuku was never mean, or demanding. always thanking me profusely for anything i ever did for him. leaving me to remind him that this was my job, and any way to make his life easier was good enough for me.

but maybe i should have held onto those blushed cheeks and crinkled eyes as he thanked me for the coffee that he didn’t even know he needed, for a just a little bit longer.

you know how a child will open a new toy on christmas and it quickly becomes their new favorite toy? playing with it non-stop, taking it wherever they go. until one day, they grow bored of it and never touch it again as it grows dusty at the bottom of their toy bin.

i know izuku wasn’t doing it on purpose, he didn’t have an intentionally mean bone in his body. i guess you could say, some other toys came around and took his attention away.

and that toy, was a particularly difficult mission in collaboration with uravity’s agency.

the two spent long hours cooped in his office as they went over notes, plans, intel, etc. until the conversation melted into talk about the old days and the wonderful memories they had together in high school.

i went to work the following days with absolutely no energy to handle whatever would be thrown at me. i hadn’t been able to get much sleep, as when i closed my eyes the only thing i could see was the look in his eyes when he saw her.

my patience was already thin given the events of the most recent week, but when the printer started malfunctioning leaving me unable to fax the papers izuku wanted me send, you could say that was the first domino.

i swatted and kicked and pressed any button on the stupid machine. telling myself i was merely trying to get to stupid thing to work, but deep down i knew that the printer was just my temporary punching bag. an outlet to unleash my anger and emotions onto something instead of letting them fester inside me.

so when one of izuku’s sidekicks came by, giving a snarky comment about my behavior, i was able to brush it off with a roll of my eyes and an equally snippy comment back.

but as the hunk of plastic remained steady in its plan to ruin my day, the lack of sleep and lingering resentment started to bubble within me once more.

i heard footsteps behind me and a joking voice say, “having a bit of trouble are we?”

if it weren’t for the white hot anger buzzing in my ears i may have been able to identify the voice before i lashed out on them. but we already established this was not my day.

so as my hands moved to clutch the machine below me, most likely to restrain my abuse to merely verbal instead of physical. i spit out, “listen i’m fucking trying okay? so how about you get off my ass and do something useful.”

i turned around to face who i thought would be another sidekick sent to push my buttons. but i instead came face-to-face with the green haired man himself.

eyes blown wide, mouth agape in shock, a light blush dusted under his freckles as he fought to handle the situation the best way he could.

but i beat him to it with a deep bow and an endless flow of apologies, opting to only blame my anger on the malfunctioning piece of junk behind me and not the several other reasons i was plotting murder in my head.

with a gentle smile and a soft chuckle he placed his hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the baby jade hairs of his undercut. “i see. bad days happen to the best of us.” he replied, his voice like honey.

i became drunk on the minor interaction he was giving me, bringing me back to the beginning days at this job where we would spend late nights trying to keep each other awake under the only singular yellow light as we finished paperwork. or where sometimes he’d invite me to spend lunch with him as he felt he’d enjoy the company.

i got lost in the intricacies of his face as he tampered with the printer. thin eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip captured between his thick scarred fingers as he muttered to himself.

i fell in a trance, locked on the slope of his button nose, his gemstone eyes, and chubby caramel cheeks dusted in freckles.

he looked essentially like the same boy i saw on the screen all those years ago, yet matured and hardened by the realities of life.

i wanted nothing more than to reach out and protect him any way my small quirkless body could. to be there for him the same way he was for everyone else.

he eventually got the printer to work with a boyish smile on his face as he told me that despite the good roughing up i gave the machine, he was able to locate and handle the issue. “next time, skip the punching and come find me, yeah? i’ll help with any problems you face.” he joked as he made his way into his office to resume his work.

i didn’t know it was possible to fall harder for that man, but he proved with every day of his existence that the impossible didn’t apply to him.

i was finally able to get some sleep the next few nights as my eyelids filled with the blush on his cheekbones and his gaze of concentration.

but my trip to cloud 9 didn’t last very long as the occasional meeting with uraraka became trips to her agency, and occasional meetings in civilian clothes to civilian places, like coffee shops and corner stores.

to anyone else, those would read as dates. to me, they read as dates. but izuku assured the gossiping sidekicks that it was strictly professional ~ nothing more, nothing less.

i knew that i would end up with more fits of restlessness and sleepless nights as i pictured the two of them laughing over a cup of coffee. so i sought out a replacement.

a moment. a look. a sentence.

anything directed at me that would choke out the ugly thoughts and images my brain would show me of the two of them together.

so that afternoon as i brought him his lunch, i placed the box safely onto the table beside him as he continued skimming through the papers littered across the desk.

he muttered a small ‘thank you’ but it wasn’t enough. as my hand moved to place his drink that i held in my other hand next to his food, a different idea popped in my head.

my hand moved faster than my brain could register what it had just planned to do. squeezing just enough for the lid to pop off and slip from my fingers to tumble into his lap.

as soon as the liquid and ice hit his lap he flew up from his seat and away from his desk.

my hands flew up to my mouth as a string of apologies fell from my lips. eyes watering in guilt as they moved around the room trying to locate something to soak up the mess with.

“i am so sorry, my fingers slipped and before i knew it i had lost control of the cup. i-i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” i rambled as i took my blazer off to wipe at the wet stains starting to form at the bottom of his teal suit.

“hey, hey, hey.” he said softly, taking my tinier hands into his large and battered ones. warmth enveloped my clutched sticky hands as he gently urged me to stand from my crouching position in front of him.

“it was an accident. no harm, no foul.” he said with a soft smile.

i should feel bad, as it wasn’t entirely an accident. but the warm and gentle look in his eyes made what little guilt i felt crumble away.

his thumbs rubbing soft circles to my skin as he worked to get the tears to stop streaming from my eyes was enough to get me to sleep like a baby for a good 2 weeks.

until it became a cycle. he would spend too much time around uraraka, and then i would do something all in the name of garnering his attention back on me.

was it wrong of me to do, to take advantage of his kindness? to take advantage of the fact that he was naive to my true intentions? maybe.

but i felt i deserved it. i felt i deserved to be looked at the same way he looked at her.

i wasn’t any different than she was. with the way she used her big brown eyes to pull him in. or the way her cute behavior made him blush. or the way her sweet way of talking made him laugh.

i can’t be her, or compare to her. so i found my own way around it. and no one could fault me for doing so. they just couldn’t.

at the end of the mission, uravity decided to throw a party in celebration of their win. a nice formal gathering, with everyone she had involved.

when izuku pulled me aside one late night to tell me that he was extending the invitation to me felt akin to a marriage proposal.

i wasn’t involved much in the case, merely being used as the one who provided them their lunch on their long meeting days. or filing and organizing the paperwork and notes that they would compile. i wasn’t out in the field, breaking bones like izuku or saving lives like uraraka.

i didn’t deserve to go, but i didn’t care. izuku had invited me personally and damn it, i was gonna be there.

yet, i shouldn’t have gone.

i shouldn’t have spent the hours on my makeup. i shouldn’t have enlisted the help of my best friend to do my hair as i gushed about how izuku had personally invited me, how he was the most perfect man ever, and how i was undoubtedly in love with him.

i shouldn’t have spent the week leading up to the event going from shop to shop trying to find the prettiest dress that was just the exact color of his eyes. i shouldn’t have spent about half my paycheck on said dress when i found it.

i shouldn’t have decided to face my fears and step out of my comfort zone to join a group of heroes that i knew were old classmates of izuku’s as they whispered about something that clearly was a raving topic.

because then i wouldn’t have heard how izuku was planning on confessing to uraraka. i wouldn’t have heard how this mission caused old high school feelings to rekindle. i should have known my place.

and that was far away from here, from the hero scene. i should have grown up to be an accountant or a chef.

when my father took me to get that checkup when i was 5, to confirm that there truly resides no quirk inside me.

i should have left it at that.

when i was riding my bike that day as a first year and i saw the group of boys huddled around a screen as they tuned into the u-a sports festival, i should have kept riding.

as maybe it would have saved me a lot of pain.

i backed away slowly, heels tapping against the tile floor as i hurried out of the building.

i didn’t realize how suffocated i felt until the chilly autumn hair brushed my face and into my lungs.

my whole body felt hot, i felt numb. i stumbled onto the sidewalk as i looked into the dark azure sky glittered with stars.

the tears finally spilled from my eyes as the stars muddled together into a messy blur. my stomach swirled and tensed as pit of nausea sunk in my stomach.

my chest heaved as it tried to process the crisp cold air into oxygen, but my throat was too tight to let much in.

i gasped and sobbed as my back hit the brick behind me, my legs wobbling unable to carry my weight much longer.

i slid into a crouched position as my tears mixed with the black of my mascara. streaming in pools down my cheeks, neck, and chest.

in the midst of my sobbing and heaving, i called my friend who was still at my apartment awaiting details of that night when i came home.

knowing it was far too early for me to be calling her she picked up the phone with confusion. it didn’t take much words from me, not like i gave her much, to convince her that she needed to come pick me up.

as she hung up the phone, my hand slipped from my ear, falling limp to my side as i placed my head into my other arm resting atop my knees.

this was inevitable and i knew it. no matter how many ways i was able to manipulate a sweet glance from him, it didn’t mean anything.

izuku was nice to everybody. sweet to everyone. kind to anyone.

but with her, it was different. he treated her that way, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

they had years of memories, of laughs. they were perfect for each other, both smart, and kind, and always looking to help others. never acting selfishly or for personal gain.

they shared soft touches like they did old stories. they looked at each other with the same respect and admiration.

i was wrong. uraraka and i are nothing alike. she didn’t have to beg izuku to look at her like she hung the moon, he did so without asking.

unbeknownst to me, as i was manipulating izuku into these fabricated moments of gentle gazes and kind words, i was manipulating myself.

lying to the deepest parts of me that knew that this wasn’t real. that i wasn’t her. that he didn’t think of us the same way.

to him, uraraka is an old friend, who views the world the same way he does, who shares his same passions, who built her quirk to do some good within this world.

to him, i was a coffee-getter, the girl who knew his lunch orders like the back of her hand, the girl who filed his papers. the quirkless little fangirl who practically begged him to give her a job under him.

i heard the metal door open and snap shut announcing that someone was now outside with me. however, i just assumed it was a party-goer stepping outside for a smoke or a phone call so i didn’t bother to look up.

i also wasn’t in the mood for if the person happened to be a drunk girl who was ready to become my therapist as she saw me crouched on the sidewalk wishing to become one with the cement and simply cease to exist.

“there you are, i was wondering where you went?”

i would have taken the amateur therapist over this.

the voice belonged to izuku, dripping with sugar and default kindness.

if i could become one with the bricks just a little bit faster that would be great.

“hey, are you alright?” his tone became worried but i still didn’t dare to look up from my arms.

“do you feel sick? did something happen? do i need to take you home?” there he goes, into hero mode. ready to drop anything to help anyone facing the slightest of inconveniences.

“please just leave me alone.” i mumbled, throat tight and voice wavering as i try to hold the tears that still remain to fall.

“what did you say? i didn’t quite hear you.” he said softly, gently setting his large hands onto my exposed shoulder.

they should feel like welcoming warmth, but instead they felt blistering hot as i shoved them away as quickly as i could.

“i said leave me alone.” i said, slightly louder as i no longer was stuffed in my arms and knees.

he immediately saw the mess my face was in, i could tell by the way he quickly reverted fully into deku.

“hey, what’s wrong? whatever it is, i can help. didn’t i say you could come to me whenever you ne-“

“oh my god just stop! i can’t take it anymore.” i snapped, finally able to look him in the face.

but not for long as i saw the same look on his complexion as the first time i snapped at him.

“you’re too fucking nice. leaving you vulnerable for people to take advantage of you. giving them a reason to be selfish.”

“i dont-“ he tried to start but i cut him off.

“i don’t need a hero, izuku. there are people you just can’t save.”

as he worked to wrap his head around what was happening, my friend pulled up in my getaway car.

i bent down and grabbed my purse, but before i could fully escape this night, izuku grabbed my wrist causing me to stare into his eyes.

now lit aflame with desperation, “please just tell me what’s wrong. let me help you.” he encouraged softly.

but i wasn’t going to fall for it, not again.

i wasn’t gonna be played for the fool as i took the soft look in his eyes for anything but the gaze of a hero hoping to add another save to their statistics.

“god you never know when to quit!” i yelled as i yanked my wrist back. “and i hate that i-“

loved that about you?

no, love that about you.

i shook my head, thankful that for once my brain caught my actions before i spilled and made a mess again.

i walked quickly to the car, opening the passenger door almost as fast in hopes that within its metal sanctuary i could finally escape this hell.

“y/n- i-“

“mr. midoriya.” i just about whispered, my energy long since drained.

he laughed gently and i cursed the way my heart squeezed a little at the sound.

still head over heels for the angelic sound.

“you haven’t called me that in a long-“

“i quit.”

“w-what?” he muttered in disbelief.

i wouldn’t believe it either, not after the way i came to him nearly 4 years ago saying i would even be willing to clean toilets if he asked me to, so long as i got to work for him.

“i quit.” i repeated.

“you don’t mean that.”

he’s right i didn’t, not really.

hot tears started to dribble as my lower lip puckered in a sour quiver.

“no i do, sir.” i shook. “i will send someone to collect my things on monday.”

and with that i closed the door.

“drive.” i whispered to my friend who after a moment of looking at me, trying to read me, silently put the car into drive and started forward.

leaving izuku behind to stumble after the car, mouth muttering, trying to form any sort of sentence or sense.

but i couldn’t see him, knowing not to look at the mirrors situated on the side of the vehicle.

for they too are liars, as objects in the mirror are farther than they appear.

*** my little blue bitch working overtime

🧼 also mayhaps “soap” by melanie martinez fits this story… unintentionally ~ but if i’m wrong it’s cuz i haven’t listened to it in a while

#izuku #izuku midoriya #deku #deku x reader #izuku x reader #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #izuku angst #deku angst #deku headcanons #deku imagine

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Text

Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small. You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small. “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?” “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.” “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.” You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either. Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t. Your expression remains stoic. A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.” “Thank you.” “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.” You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be. It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany. “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!” Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief. It’s noisy. In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you. “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!” Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off. // Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral. The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight. “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.” “I’m your only niece.” “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?” You wonder the same thing. Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.” Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—” “I noticed.” You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial. “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.” “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees. “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat. Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation. “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.” The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.” Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped. You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected. That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.” Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move. “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.” You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table. A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along. “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.” “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!” “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.” The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear. A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass. “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.” Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat. The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.” Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing. “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?” Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more. “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?” You hate it all. // The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair. You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion. Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting. A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves. “Madam, are you not well?” “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him. Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.” Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.” “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side. You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.” Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.” He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust. Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.” You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.” “Then discipline me.” You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.” Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.” For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm. It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion. By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.” You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp. Sleep comes easier than you expect. // When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to. “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.” “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin. Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?” “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.” He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?” “Is there a dark blue?” Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself. You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure. You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.” “Yes, my lady?” You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?” His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.” “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?” “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.” What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.” But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most. He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb. “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily. “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.” The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.” “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.” He nods and goes on his way. The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area. There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later. “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around. Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well. But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—” “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.” His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.” You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?” “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.” “It’s not a problem. What is this about?” “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?” “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.” At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!” Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.” “But—!” You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.” Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.” You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?” He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.” The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face. Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.” Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.” “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—” “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.” Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence. Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups. “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite. You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic. Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—” “And?” He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.” The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?” “Well….” “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.” Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!” ‘Rightfully ours’. You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?” “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!” “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?” Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.” Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.” “Pardon?” “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.” Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal. You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.” “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!” Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin. Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest. You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.” Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest. // The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away. It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here. A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.” The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters. The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries. But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.” He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after. There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself. “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave. The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you. “You are Detective Jeon?” He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances. “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.” “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?” “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.” You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup. He finally asks, “How may I be of service?” You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.” “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.” “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.” Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work. It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has. “Do you have any leads?” You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.” The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours. “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling. “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.” Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do. “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.” “Did you see anything else about him?” “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.” “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?” “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.” His eyes lift off his paper. “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.” And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase. “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.” He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.” Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child. Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions. The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.” “What are you planning to do when you find them?” “I’ll kill them, of course.” You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year. “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.” You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time. “I know.” You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?” He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.” // The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring. You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken. “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.” There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.” You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house. “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.” “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.” Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself. The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.” You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead. You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done. “My lady…” You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?” “Of course.” “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?” “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.” “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.” Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?” “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.” The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.” You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.” He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.” You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long. He’s already won before the game’s begun. // A few days later, there’s a knock at your door. It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.” It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.” You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?” “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it. “If you could clear the teacup from the table.” “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger. True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.” “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.” “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.” You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents. “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.” The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….” “Yes, how is that coming along?” He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.” You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?” The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.” If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either. You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family. That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you. Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have. “Huh.” “What’s the matter?” “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper. “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too. “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.” “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile. You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.” At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?” “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.” // The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent. You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right. “It is quite cloudy today.” “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.” “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.” “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.” “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?” “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.” “Me?” “Yes.” Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.” You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—” “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.” “Pardon?” He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?” “There’s nothing.” The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.” Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.” Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?” “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.” You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.” Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours. A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!” Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames. “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?” There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls. When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing. “I want more!” A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head. “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!” You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape— “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.” “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away. “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.” Her eyes light up. “Really?” You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?” “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.” “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?” She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….” Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed. “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?” “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.” You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?” Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows. You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability. Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too. Rose comes home with you three hours later. You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home. You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours. “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!” Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.” “Thank you, ma’am!” “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam. You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane. She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…” “What is it?” “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.” You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.” She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.” You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack. “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.” The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?” “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.” You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?” “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you. It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on. “Like what?” “Pardon?” “What have you heard about me?” Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.” The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?” The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.” You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?” “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.” You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.” “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.” You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars. Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.” “Mr. Carter—” “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.” He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are. Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light. It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.” “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever. Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.” “Wait!” You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder. The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!” Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?” // The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited. “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor. “Right this way, sir.” The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?” “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.” “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose. Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found. “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.” “What did you find?” Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.” You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility. “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.” “What is it?” “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside. “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.” His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it. “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.” Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.” He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.” Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?” Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.” Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.” “Then don’t ask.” “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.” There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?” Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight. It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation. But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking. Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other. “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.” His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?” “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.” “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?” “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.” “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?” His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate. // You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life. Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung. There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well. “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.” Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help. “The blue one will be fine.” She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?” “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.” Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.” You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?” “No, I’m fine, thank you.” It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape. You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side. “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod. Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in. You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow. As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd. The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do. The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic. Until Taehyung comes into sight. “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile. “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.” He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take. Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars. The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment. It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases. “Here we are, my lady.” Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along. You watch houses flash past the window. “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you. “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?” Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.” It isn’t. And he knows it. “We can get off the next station.” “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.” You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.” Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.” The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.” “I’ll watch over you.” A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary. Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours. Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips. Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you. You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be. He knows you’re still grieving for your parents. The two of you grew up together after all. Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother. He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver. Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you. His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself. Taehyung moves. He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open. “Excuse me.” Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps. He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all. Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart. He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze. Taehyung runs. He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts. “Hah!” There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed. The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!” His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood. Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges. Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes. The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise. Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat. “Step back!” Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath. The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.” But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes. He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails. Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past. “Who are you?!” “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!” “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!” The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched. “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!” “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!” “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!” Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.” But it’s too soon. “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.” The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand. He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you. Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip. Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb. He sharply inhales. “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face. It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.” You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.” “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry. The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after. It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel. You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room. “We should find him, shouldn’t we?” You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression. “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox. But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind. You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.” “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.” The detective’s words ring inside your head. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.” It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted. “But he grew up here in Lennox.” Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you. The bell rings as the door of the shop opens. “Hello there! How can I help you?” There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years. You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.” At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling. “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?” “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.” “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.” “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…” “That was a very long time ago.” “Then why did you come to see my mother?” “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.” The corner of your mouth twitches. He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else. But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history. “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.” Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together. “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.” The clock on his shelf ticks loudly. “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.” // The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire. You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it. “My apologies.” You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death. “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.” You came here for nothing. “I don't know who your sibling is.” Your efforts were worthless. “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.” There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls. Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry. He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides. “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame. You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—” You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready. The frustration cripples you blind and angers you. How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you? Why? “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs. And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder. If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.

#bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung writing #taehyung series #taehyung scenario #bts scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #ooOoooOOoH LET'S GO

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

Text

He, Hercules - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: What is Ushijima if not strong? (~2.0k words)

Warnings: accident, temporary disability, implied depression, some suggestive themes, hurt/comfort

A/N: I have limited experience with athletic injuries and mental illness so bear with me. If there is anything you find inaccurate or insensitive in my depiction, don’t hesitate to pm me! <3

---

“Mr. Ushijima?”

You perk up when you hear the secretary’s voice call out your husband’s name, only realizing now that in your long semi-long wait you’d ended up dozing off, resting your head against his shoulder. Clearly, you must have been exhausted, because it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you’re here.

There are very few others in this small office aside from the single middle-aged man in the corner who you realize is staring quite hard at you, and you wonder briefly if it’s because you somehow looked inappropriate or acted inappropriately while you were asleep. There shouldn’t be anything very noteworthy about a young couple inside a therapy practice.

You glance at Ushijima who is barely moving despite the fact that his name was just pronounced. He’s as still as a statue and his expression is neutral as is typical of him, but you still perceive the lack of intensity behind his eyes, a constant reminder that no matter how much he acts as though he’s fine, he’s not.

Why else would you be here in the first place?

You nudge him gently.

“Love, they called your name. It’s time for your session,” you whisper into his ear.

He had been staring off at a fixed point across from him, but he does still respond to your nudges. When he rises, it’s done slowly, and he walks besides you with a slight limp in his left leg. He doesn’t wince with any step but the arm you hold onto as you walk with him through the hallway down to the provider’s office is stiff. You wonder if he resents how clingy you’ve gotten since his injury, handling him with kid gloves as though he were the most fragile of glass. You can’t help it. You’d almost lost him.

The office is open when you arrive, and a man who looks only a few years older than Wakatoshi is seated in a cream armchair, waiting, a measured smile on his face. Ushijima doesn’t smile back but he doesn’t frown either.

“Welcome! Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” the man says without missing a beat, rising to shake his hand. He also shoots a glance at you, but before he can ask you to introduce yourself before politely shooing you out of the room (this is not couples’ therapy after all, even if it will help the two of you), you squeeze your husband’s hand before quickly exiting.

“I’m his partner, I’ll see myself out, thank you!”

You worry slightly about leaving him alone in this stranger’s care, but Ushijima is not a child and this isn’t the first day of kindergarten, he’s a man recovering from a life-altering injury and has finally agreed to go to therapy.

You’re not sure how optimistic to be, but you’ve done an extensive amount of research and this particular therapist boasted credentialing in sports psychology, was highly recommended and had worked with a lot of current and former athletes alike.

Of course, this would all be meaningless if Ushijima refused to talk, but as you started your car to pass the next hour at a nearby mall, you gave yourself a little bit of hope.

---

“Tell me about yourself,” is the first question the therapist asks, after offering not much more than his own name, and Ushijima is slightly annoyed by the question.

He does not want to be here in the first place, he doesn’t need to be here, and now he’s asked a question as vague and audacious as ‘tell me about yourself’ like he’s expected to pour out his feelings to this stranger from the very second he sits in this admittedly comfortable couch.

He pauses. He’s not sure exactly what he would say.

He’s nearing 30. He’s married, no kids. If it’s not obvious, he’s from Japan. He plays volleyball professionally… well, played, up until recently.

He frowns. That’s why he’s here. Because you don’t think he is okay, even if all of his injuries have essentially healed aside from this annoying limp that makes it obvious that he’s in some way not in optimal shape, broken, vulnerable. This limp is the reason why he can no longer play even if he feels fine otherwise, and why he’s not exactly sure what to do next.

But that’s beyond the point. The question is about himself.

What else can he say? How would others describe him?

His friends call him serious, just as the media describes him. Quiet and serious. Dedicated. Strong.

Maybe he’s not that last thing anymore, but that too is beyond the point.

You think he’s sweet; you say this repeatedly. You tell him that he’s kind and considerate.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he was too kind. Kindness is what got him in this predicament in the first place, isn’t it?

A moment of compassion - a likely exhausted mother whose eyes leave her child for a split second to rummage through her purse, a little girl whose tiny legs take her just a bit too far out into an open intersection, a speeding car that shows no signs of stopping…

He remembers the exact moment he is no longer jogging but sprinting to take the child out of harm’s way, as well as the exact moment he hears his bones snap on impact, and he’s too shocked initially to feel pain, eyes frantically searching for the kid who now is standing on the opposite side of the street, looking at him in curiosity because the toddler is too young to understand what it means to see a body crumple. She’s unharmed, so he’s successful.

A woman screams and she sounds nothing like you. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The car speeds on.

---

You sit in a food court, poking at some fries, but you’re not exactly hungry, just anxious. Is the session going okay?

Even if the man is a professional at getting people to talk, Wakatoshi is a hard nut to crack. You could envision him sitting silently until the hour passed completely, before getting up to bow and exit stage left. It had taken you months to get him to agree to go to anything other than physical therapy.

You hope this is not an exercise in futility.

---

“I’m fine,” he grunted, just a couple days out of the hospital, once you’d started nagging him for weight-bearing on the leg that had just been operated on.

“Your leg was literally shattered!” You shouted. “You’re lucky they didn’t amputate!”

He gave you a mildly fatigued look. All he’d wanted to do was walk to the kitchen by himself, without crutches in his own house, and he’d barely made it a couple of steps before you were standing in the bedroom, looking all sorts of stressed and concerned.

He figured your concern was temporary, so he attempted to quell his stubbornness. He had already been benched for the season, possibly to likely forever and pouring out his frustration on you wouldn’t be helpful.

“What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

He frowned but he let you help him anyway.

---

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima. I moved here several years ago from Japan to play volleyball professionally. I was in a bad car accident a few months ago and my wife is concerned that I’m not adjusting well.”

The therapist offers a small smile again.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly. He does disagree… he doesn’t? He’s not sure. He’s frustrated of course, who wouldn’t be, he had just been in the Olympics after all, but he’s fine. He’s strong.

He’s strong.

---

“We just wanted to thank you again.”

Wakatoshi glanced at the gifts the couple before them had brought, a bouquet of flowers and stacks of cookies and pastries in boxes on the living room coffee table, before looking back at you. Your face remained polite and smiling but you were clearly uncomfortable from the way you were perched on the seat, nodding carefully as you listened to your visitors, your arms crossed over your midsection as you leaned forward in your chair.

He knew you wanted to be angry at them, well, her, the mother who looked at him pitifully initially then averted her eyes out of shame. But it wasn’t her fault but yet, it was her fault and still, it wasn’t. It was very complicated. No one was at fault. Her daughter was safe.

Everything was fine.

---

You’re back in your car again, ready to drive to pick up your husband from therapy. Things should get better from here on.

Maybe he will no longer shut down like a brick wall when you suggest that now is a good time to start transitioning away from sports for the future. Maybe he’ll be less upset with small things like not being able to run as far, or lift as much or please you as much in the bedroom as he used to.

They’re small things compared to losing his life.

---

“I would like to go back to playing but I’m told at every turn that it’s too dangerous, maybe even after a year of healing.”

The therapist nods, and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.

“How does that make you feel?”

The therapist notices even through Ushijima’s accented Polish that he’s naturally eloquent, but regardless he still lacks the words to appropriately talk about his feelings.

His hands grip at his knees, the good and the bad one. The word ‘useless’ comes to mind but he can’t bring himself to say that to this stranger, even if these four walls come with the promise of understanding.

For once, silence is uncomfortable for him, and the therapist is surprisingly good at staying quiet. They sit in silence for moments longer and surprisingly, Wakatoshi speaks up first.

“Weak,” he ekes out in a voice that is so small he barely recognizes it.

To that, the therapist leans just slightly forward, focusing his eyes on the man’s restricted range of motion and slightly hunched shoulders. It’s the posture of a man who’s normally stoic and confident, now made uncertain about the future.

“What’s wrong with weakness?” He says quickly, and Ushijima is somewhat stunned which then lends way to a small measure of anger.

Everything is wrong with being weak. Weakness was for other people. How could he protect himself, his livelihood, his team, you?

What is he if not strong?

---

“I love you.”

He says it less often than you do to him, but every time he does, he means every word. You shifted beneath him, weary from the lovemaking of just prior but still nevertheless craning your neck up to reach his lips.

Your hands traveled down his shoulders and along the length of his bulky arms, playing with his biceps, drinking in the sight of his muscles flexing as he moved. He smiled and wrapped his arms tight around you, laying his head on your chest.

“Aww, Toshi, you’ll crush me if you hold me so tight. You barely know your own strength,” you teased with a laugh, prompting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly, and lift up his head to show you the smallest of pouts.

“I love you more,” you added, giggling.

Pleased, he lay his head back down on the softness of your bosom, clinging to you more. He’d protect and take care of you forever.

---

You hold Ushijima’s hand tightly as you walked out of the building to your car, holding in your curiosity about the session the entire time.

Would he go again?

He gives your hand a squeeze suddenly which surprises you, and when he turns to you, there’s a small upturn in the corner of his lips that approximates more of a smile than you’ve seen in recent weeks.

You’re elated enough that you immediately give him a hug, and maybe you’re a bit overzealous about it, but he stops and holds you close for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

There’s a lot in the thank you, and you shed a tear.

---

Strength is relative and inconstant, so our first task is to work on your definition of strength.

But I would say, coming here in the first place is already evidence enough.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #mae.replies #mae.writing #tw injury #tw depression

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doyouevenshipbr0 · 4 years ago

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gruvia drabble

author’s note: ok. hi. here we are again. i go on a 1948392 year hiatus and then become inspired to write something from the most RANDOM thing. but this was too good to pass up. so essentially i saw a headcannon by @incorrect-ft-ez-quotes and then @bbygirljuvi added onto it:) look at my most recent reblog for reference if u want hehehe. yeah ok maybe i did add some bs healing abilities to juvia’s powers... sue me! ok here we gooooo i hope u cuties enjoy!!!

“Popsicle,” Natsu sighed. “What the hell are you doin’ back here?” He held his door in one hand as he stared at a recently familiar face.

“What, a guy can’t stop by and visit his best friend?” Gray nervously chuckled.

Happy and Natsu weren’t buying it, exchanging suspicious looks as Gray impatiently stood at the door frame.

“Best friend?” Natsu rose an eyebrow.

“And for the 4th day in a row?” Happy jabbed, hovering beside Natsu’s head

“Would ya’ just let me in?” Gray spat out, clearly looking jittery.

“Fine.” Natsu groaned, stepping aside so Gray could step in.

“But we’re gonna’ start charging rent!” Happy exclaimed.

“Whatever, I don’t care, just as long as I can hang out here for a little while.” Gray hustled in, plopping himself onto Natsu’s worn down couch.

“Ok, you can stay here on one condition, tell me what it is you’re freaking out about. And gimme’ the real reason you’ve been comin’ here.” Natsu folded his arms.

“Aye!” Happy mimicked Natsu, crossing his little paws.

Gray let out a groan, bowing his head between his legs before whipping his head back up. “It’s Juvia, ok!?”

“Juvia?” Happy asked.

“But, you haven’t tried avoiding her in forever. You guys have been all buddy-buddy lately.” Natsu was trying to piece this all together in his head.

Gray blushed, averting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So what’s the deal?” Natsu was doing his best to get straight to the point, as nuance was not his strong suit.

“W-well... we... kind of... sort of...” Gray scratched at the back of his head, searching for the gall to say it. “We got drunk the other night at the guild, and then I went to walk her home since she was pretty wasted, and...one thing lead to another and... we almost kissed.”

Natsu was as confused as ever. “So?”

“So?!”

“Well, don’t ya’ like her?”

“W-well-!” Gray stammered, and gave out a defeated sigh, bowing his head again. “Yeah.” He mumbled to the point that Natsu or Happy could barely hear him.

“So then why don’t you wanna’ smooch her?” Happy was almost as dense as Natsu.

“Gah! You guys don’t get it!” Gray sprung up. “Forget it. I’m gonna’ find a new hiding spot. Preferably, one that asks less questions.”

Just as Gray made his way to Natsu’s front door, there was a sudden knock. Gray froze in his tracks as a chill went up his spine. He had a knack for this sort of thing, knowing when Juvia’s around, and that chill only ever meant one thing.

“Shit.”

Gray needed an escape route, but his head wasn’t on straight. He frantically scoured the little house, looking from wall to wall, but there was only one door, and Gray was just feet away from it.

“Natsu, whatever you do, don’t-“

“Be there in a sec’!” Natsu shouted at the door.

“You idiot!” Gray whisper yelled.

Natsu opened the door to none other than Juvia. She was known for her expressive nature. The look on her face could tell you anything you want to know, without her having to say a word.

“Hi, Natsu-san.” Juvia said both frantically and nervously. “Juvia was just wondering if Gray-sama was here.” She held her hands together promptly, hoping that he would be there.

“Actually Gray-“ Natsu was cut off at the sound of shattering glass. He instinctively spun around to a disastrous scene, displaying a broken window, shards of glass everywhere, and no Gray to be found. “Just left.” Natsu finished the thought differently than he originally intended.

Juvia heard the shattering too, and she had her answer. Her Gray-dar never failed her. Using her Gray-dar she quickly scurried to the back of the house, crossing her fingers that Gray hadn’t gotten away yet. The first thing she heard was a hiss of pain, and as she turned the corner, there sat her Gray in the ground, holding his bloody knee.

“Son of a bitch!” Gray yelled in pain, applying more pressure to his cut knee. Sure, he was used to getting beaten to a pulp in a fight, but he wasn’t exactly expecting a busted up knee right about now.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia’s eyes widened at the blood, and she hurried to his side.

Gray finally realized her presence. He stopped writhing in pain for a moment, and tried to appear as casual as usual. “Oh...” He forced a laugh. “Hey Juvia. what are you doin’ here?”

“Juvia should be asking you the same thing.” She knelt by Gray’s side. “But first, let Juvia help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let Juvia see it, Gray-sama.”

He sighed, giving in and releasing his hold. Juvia quickly took her hands and placed them on Gray’s knee. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly her hands became water, but it wasn’t normal water. It was soothing, and it was making the stinging in Gray’s knee go away.

“Juvia has been working on some healing techniques. It’s nothing like Wendy, but I can heal some minor, surface-level things.” She explained, using her water hands to massage the area.

“Now that Juvia has finally caught you, why have you been avoiding me?” She finally looked at Gray who blushed at the sudden eye contact.

“I haven’t.” Gray tried to sound as natural as possible.

All Juvia had to do was give him a look that practically screamed “oh, please.” before he cracked. “Ok, fine. I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Juvia knows!” She exclaimed.

“I just don’t want things to be awkward between us!” He explained.

“But you don’t think avoiding me for days would make it awkward?” Juvia finally finished his knee and reverted her hands back to normal.

Gray groaned. “You’re right.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his face.

“Is this about... the other night?” Juvia finally asked.

“Do ya’ really have to even ask?” Gray avoided eye contact.

“But Juvia thought the night went well! I had a lot of fun!”

“So did I! Until...” He cut himself off.

“Until we almost kissed?” Juvia finished it for him.

“Yeah.”

“I see.” Juvia paused. “Are Juvia’s lips chapped?”

“Huh?” He finally peaked up at her.

“Or did Juvia have something in her teeth maybe?” She was going into panic mode.

“No that’s not-“

Juvia cut him off with as gasp, and her hands slapped against her mouth. “Or does Juvia’s breath stink?! Is that it?!”

“Would you knock it off!” Gray finally stopped her. “It doesn’t have to do with any of that stuff.

“Oh.” Juvia sunk. “So Gray-sama just does not want to kiss Juvia then.”

“No!” He instantly cut off that thought, even though he was embarrassed by how eager he sounded. “Not that either.” He grumbled.

“Then..?”

“We were drunk. Yes, we were having fun and all, but, I dunno’.” Gray grumbled, looking for the right words. “We haven’t had our first kiss yet. So when we do, I want it to be... kinda’... special. I guess. In a way.” Gray finished with some filler words to try and take the heat away from his face, but it was no use.

“S-s-special?! Gray-sama wants our kiss to be special?!” Juvia lit up, almost freezing in time waiting for someone to pinch her, because she figured this had to be a dream. However, she still was a bit lost, so she put a pause on her momentary fantasy. “Wait, so then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to tell you all that. I was trying to buy some time until I could figure out what to say.” Gray released a deep exhale. “But I guess I’ve said it all now.”

“You sure have.” Juvia said giddily right before she launched herself at Gray, tightly clutching Gray’s shoulders in her arms as her cheek was pressed up firmly against his.

“Gah!” Gray shouted in surprise, trying to keep his balance as Juvia leeched onto him. They were still sitting, but she almost knocked him flat on his back.

“But you know what, Gray-sama?” Juvia broke her clutch, making sure she was looking right at Gray.

“What?” He looked down at her curiously.

“Juvia thinks every moment with Gray-sama is special. So to Juvia, any time is perfect for a first kiss.” She smiled so sweetly is made Gray’s heart just about burst.

“Yeah?” Gray felt the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Yep.” She nodded in assurance.

“If you say so.”

And without a second thought, Gray closed the gap between them, planting a sweet and soft kiss on Juvia’s lips. As they parted, they leaned in and pressed their foreheads against each other, both wearing matching grins.

“That looked pretty special from in here!” Happy interjected from inside the house, followed by Natsu’s laughter.

Gray and Juvia jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “Happy, shut it!” Gray turned his head, looking through what used to be a window, and seeing Natsu and Happy standing in their living room.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be able to hear you two slobbering on each other if there was a window here!” Natsu yelled, referring to the gaping hole in the middle of his wall.

“We were not slobbering, you moron!” Gray blushed furiously, finally standing up and facing Natsu.

“That’s what it looked like to me!” Natsu teased back, wearing a devious smile.

“Aye!” Happy seconded.

“Mind your business, flame-for-brains!”

“Next time you need to hide out for a week, you ain’t comin’ here!” Natsu shouted.

“Fine by me.” Gray scoffed.

He then looked back at Juvia as she appeared a little on edge, wondering if she was going to have to break up a fight between Gray and Natsu.

He grinned once again, at the girl he couldn’t wait to spend more special time with, making more memories, and growing even closer

He reached for Juvia’s hand and squeezed it. “I was gettin’ tired of running away anyway.”

#gruvia #doyouevenshipbr0 #fairy tail #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fanfcition #gruvia drabble #fairy tail 100 yq #ft 100yq #anime #manga #gray x juvia #juvia x gray #juvia lockser

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

Text

Flower in the Sun

AU where Beni has a mom (I don’t know if he doesn’t I just know about his adoptive father/master)

Benimaru x Fem!Reader

Not edited don’t hate me for the many mistakes

5.5k words

You tried to focus on the celebration, tried to let go of all the stress you felt right now, but it was difficult considering you JUST moved here less than a year ago, opened your shop in town and lived above it, and now your whole apartment/shop was obliterated. back to basically square one for who knows how long.

You sat by the edge of the celebration, chewing on your lip as you thought about your options. You’d have to move your shop back to the barn on the gardens you have outside of town but you didn’t get as much business that way.. plus you can’t really sleep there. You could move back in with your mother but she lived near company 3 and baked them a cake every sunday, your sisters family lived in the Shinjuku District but they were holy sol nuts and you really didn’t want to have to ask them of all people. So the barn was the only real option right now, no bed but at least it has a roof and a door with a lock. A voice cuts through your thoughts and you pay attention when you realize it belongs to Benimaru

‘If I wrecked your house last night feel free to stay at the guardhouse until it’s fixed. It won't take too long.” you felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you watched those without homes gather around him for details, you pick yourself up and walk over to the group so you could hear what to do.

At the guard house you are directed to a small room at the back since you were just one person and not a family. You didn't mind that it was a small space or that you were farther away from anyone else, you were just grateful you could stay in Asakusa and keep your business running. You are told that you can help yourself to breakfast in the morning and dinner will be served for everyone at night and you were given a few essential toiletries.

When you are certain that everyone else staying there had used the showers, you gave it some extra time so that the hot water will replenish before you made your way silently down the quiet halls of the guard house.

You walk past a door that was open, you glance as you walk by and see Benimaru help bandage Konro, the sight brought a small smile to your lips as you continued your course to the showers.

Their conversation after you passed went something like this

“Waka”

“I saw her”

“She's beautiful. You should..”

“No”

Konro sighs “if you don't, maybe I wilL”

“You’re such a pain in the ass”

Your shower was amazing, they really spared no expense on the quality of shampoo and conditioner. You were so glad to not smell like smoke anymore as you changed into a new set of clothes, they were too big and just a fire force soldier shirt and jumper, but you didn't care. They were clean and comfortable. You folded your dirty clothes into a small stack and carried it back to your room, making a mental note to run to the clothing store in the next few days.

The next morning you are up at dawn, walking through the still quiet hallways towards the kitchen. You get warm in the baggy jumpsuit so you undo it halfway and tie the arms around your waist before you open the doorway. Inside there is a long table with different foods set out and at the end is Benimaru and Konro. You bow to them “thank you for letting me stay” you say, your voice as quiet as the morning. “I’m sorry for destroying your home.” Benimaru says and you rise, a smile on your lips as you make your way farther into the room before kneeling down in front of the table across from Konro.

“You’re Y/N L/N who owns the herb and flower shop” Konro says, recognizing you now that you were up close. You nod and reach out, grabbing some bread “yes I am, although my shop will now be run from the gardens just outside of town until it is rebuilt. My herb garden was on top of my apartment building so some special herbs will be out of stock for a while” you laugh and rip a piece of bread and put it in your mouth. “There is a garden behind the guardhouse that is hardly used, feel free to plant whatever you like” Benimaru says and you blush before bowing your head “thank you very much Captain Shinmon.” He frowns and Konro chuckles under his breath “just call me Benimaru” he says and you nod “of course. Benimaru” you notice the sunrise outside and stand again “thank you again, for breakfast as well” you say with a bow before leaving the room, your unfinished bread in your hand to finish on your way to the gardens. you had to set up your new shop in the barn on the flower farm you made sure to leave as early as you could since that would take a while, good thing you had one employee to help you, your close friend Jo.

One eye like a bullseye and one like an X. you couldn’t look away from him even if you wanted to. Here he was, in your shop, pursuing the already made bouquets you had made that morning and the potted plants Jo had taken care of. You watched him talk to Jo for a second from your spot at the back counter, before resuming his shopping.

You could hear Jo next to you saying your name but it didn’t register that she was talking to you until she walked in front of your vision “huh?” you ask and she glares “huh?! I have been practically shouting at you for the past five minutes. Could you take your eyes off of the Captain for a second please?” your cheeks turn red as you look down sheepishly “sorry Jo” you whisper and she laughs at you then says “he’s actually looking for you, oh flower master” you gasp and look up into her eyes “WHAT?” you practically shout and then crouch down behind the counter when you see his head turn. Your coworker leans over the side and says “and he’s coming this way now. good job dummy” before she leaves “fuuuck” you whisper and panic, how are you going to okay this off? “didn’t know you hated me this much y/n. Is it because I destroyed your home?”

You dip your head back to look up at his face which is now looking over at you as he leans over the counter. His facial expression was uninterested but he had curious eyes. His voice was monotone, like he had way more things to be doing than this mediocre errand. You pop to your feet, your face feeling like 100 degrees. “No!! I mean yes! I mean!Ugh” you sigh and close your eyes, stealing a moment before opening your eyes, a customer service smile and voice when you say “no, I dont hate you. Sorry i'm just a little flustered. How may i help you today?”

“I need some flowers and when you mentioned your garden at breakfast I thought I would come down. I need whatever says “i’m sorry for not coming to dinner for 5 months i still love you mom” you bite back a giggle as you think of his mom, a regular at your shop who would come just to talk “say no more, come with me and we will build you a perfect bouquet” he nods and you grab a flower basket and a knife, leading him out the side door into the garden.

“So these ones are blue hyacinths, they represent peace and truth” he hums before shaking his head “no” he says and you chuckle, leading him down a few rows before stopping again “these are called star of bethlehem, they mean reconciliation” he leans in close “i like these ones” he says and you smile “perfect” you say and reach out cutting a few and adding them to your basket before walking down a few more rows.

You spend half an hour looking around at the flowers and chatting easily. “So why haven't you been to dinner with your sweet mother? She comes in every once in a while and only has nothing but kind things to say about you” you ask while you finish the arrangement of star of bethlehem, yellow roses, white ivy flowers, spider mums, and lily of the valley. You spruced it up with some ivy greenery and the last of the rosemary and chamomile flowers in the shop, the seeds you’re going to plant back at the guard house were already in your bag in the back.

The bouquet you made was beautiful and you felt proud as you tied around a few ribbons “Just busy is all” he says and you hand the bouquet over “well, tell her y/n from the flower shop says hi” he nods “i will. thank you y/n” he says, his fingers brushing yours as he takes the flowers. “Will i see you at dinner?” he asks and you smile “wouldn't miss it” he nods “good Konro will stop asking me now” you chuckle, does that mean Konro likes you? You push the thought aside “have a good rest of your day, Benimaru” you say and he gives you a small smile “you as well” you notice the flush of pink on his neck as he exits the shop.

“Ohhh these are lovely! Are they from y/n’s garden??” Beni nods “she say’s hi by the way” his mom smiles and brings the flowers into the kitchen to grab a vase “that girl is so sweet, she always remembers FooFoo and if i bring her with she gives her treats.” Benimaru feels his heart warm as he crouches down to scratch the tiny head of the senior dog laying on the floor. “She moved her shop to her garden until it’s rebuilt” he says, remembering the way he felt her eyes on him in the store, the way her hair shown in the sunlight as she brought him around her garden, telling him about the means behind every flower he asked about, the way the conversation was easy. He found himself wanting to talk to her again, trying to find any reason to go back to your garden. “Benimaru!” his mom shouts and he looks up to her “sorry ma” he says and she just shakes her head with a smile “shes quite beautiful isnt she?” his mom says as she places the flowers in the vase “yeah” Beni says “she is”

When you get back to the guard house after work it’s already dark and quiet, you had a lot of work to do once you closed and it unfortunately made you miss dinner. You roll your shoulders as you take off your shoes by the back gate, picking them up as you walk into the back garden. You hum softly to yourself as you find a watering can and hose, filling it up halfway and bringing it with you over to the garden boxes filled with dry dirt. You chuckle at the sight “poor unfortunate neglected dirt, not for long tho” you whisper as you wet the soil, sure you could plant more things at your garden around your flowers but if you did both you'd have more supply when they were grown. Plus it was the perfect time to plant. You kneel by the garden box and mix up the soil so it was all wet and combined before planting the seeds. Unaware of the man on the back porch watching you as you went, a smile on his lips.

You snap your fingers and the hanging lanterns above you light, making your face glow as you look up and make eye contact with Benimaru, a smile on your lips when you notice his shocked expression. He recovers quick with a smile you can tell he’s trying to hide “you missed dinner” he states and you chuckle “I’m sorry to make you miss me” you say with a chuckle “Would you like to help me?” your voice was quiet but he heard it like it was right by his ear.

He stands from his spot and walks over to you, his feet making soft sounds when they hit the dirt. He kneels down next to you and you take his hands in yours, making him cup them, the dirt on your hands rubbing off on him. “Take some of these” you dump some seeds into his hands “and plant them in a row, a couple finger widths apart and a knuckle deep” he nods as he follows your orders, you start on another row and hum softly as you go.

“You’re a pyrokinetic” he says and you chuckle “kind of. I mean. I never had any training so I can’t fight or anything with it. Nothing compared to your talents. But technically yes” “You’ve watched me so often you know of my talents?” he asks and you watch as his fingers push seeds into a neat row. You chuckle “yes, im not ashamed to say it. You’re captivating and insanely talented.” His cheeks flush and he clears his throat “is..is this right?” He asks and pulls his dirt covered empty hands away “that’s perfect Beni” he holds his hand out for more seeds and you smile as you pour some more into his palm.

“These are chamomiles, one of my favorites although common” you say “why do you like it?” he asks and you feel your stomach birth a butterfly or two “when i was younger, my grandma owned the flower garden. She would plant beautiful flowers and let me pick whichever ones I wanted. Then at the end of the day she would let me go pick as many chamomile flowers as i wanted so she could make tea. As we drank tea should tell me stories, I love chamomile because it reminds me of quality time and the stories that can be shared over a good cup of tea”

You finish your story as you both finish planting. You wipe your hands off on your pants as you stand up with him “thank you for your help” you say with a smile that he returns “thank you for the story” you nod “anytime Benimaru” he picks up your shoes and hands them to you before he puts the watering can back and disappears inside the guard house.

You snap your fingers as you walk inside, the lanterns going out before you close the door.

You don’t see Benimaru for the next few days, he wasn’t there for breakfast or dinner, you guess he has fire force duties that keeps him busy but you can't help but wonder how he is.

You get home from work late again, a wedding coming up that has been keeping you busy. You shower and then make your way through the guardhouse to the kitchen, it’s quieter than usual, a few families homes are already built and yours should be soon as well. You walk into the kitchen and smile when you see Beni already there “hi” you whisper as you shuffle to the cupboard to grab a mug and some tea “hi y/n” he says when you stand next to him at the stove, the tea kettle already heating up “can’t sleep?” you ask and he nods. You notice the dark circles under his eyes and how bloodshot they look. You hum in response and frown at the response your heart had when you saw him. Like you wished you could take care of him and rub his back while he lays in bed. “Are you just getting back?” he asks and you nod and cover your mouth as you yawn “yeah. Mrs. Kim’s daughter is getting married sunday and I’ve been making all the arrangements. White peonies, lavender, and ivy, it’s gorgeous” he notices the bandages on your fingers and dark circles under your eyes that almost match his. He wants nothing more to hold you while you both fall asleep. He’s so sleep deprived and he can see you are as well, but his thoughts are cut off by the whistle of the pot. “Do you wanna sit?” he asks and you nod with a smile.

You sit and talk at the little table in the kitchen, the only light coming from the one hanging above the table. It felt like you were in your own world as you talked and shared stories, laughing at the many things he told you about growing up and meeting Konro.

You told him more stories about your grandma, about your childhood. You bonded over mutual feelings for religion and politics, over what you want for the future. Before long you’ve finished a cup of chamomile tea and your second cup has gone cold, at some point he grabbed your hands and was now playing with your fingertips as he told you the story of how he became captain, sharing his fears with you in the safe space of the quiet kitchen. “I think I will always believe that Konro could have been better at this than me” he whispers and you lean forward, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead before cupping his cheek “for what it’s worth, I think you are perfect” you hear his breath catch as his eyes look up into yours “perfect for this company, for this town. I talk to many of the people who live here and I have only ever heard praise and kindness for you. Your people love you. I know you don't like sweets that much but I’ve seen you accept them AND eat them and that says so much about you. People always give you so many gifts because it’s the only way we know how to give back, to you and the company for protecting the people and always being there.” Your hand slips as you go to move it from his cheek but he moves his hand up, covering yours and holding it in place.

“You may not feel worthy of this mantle, Waka” you smirk and give him a sweet look, knowing about his nickname and using it in this context makes his heart race as a small chuckle escapes his throat. “And no matter what i say, you can live with what makes you comfortable. But know that you are ultimately not living the truth.” He ponders your words for a moment and brings his hand down, taking yours with it. “The truth being that you DO deserve this position. You ARE worthy. You ARE the best and most qualified for this” his fingers laced together with yours “and you have the support of your team and basically the whole city...” your cheeks blush and you look down at your hands together against the table “and you have mine as well” you whisper

Benimaru was gone the next few days, Konro as well. Leaving you in the guard house as more and more families left, able to go back to their newly built homes until only a few of you remained.

Your bare feet plop along the wooden floor, echoing in the empty quiet hallway as you make your way to the back. Your long duster cardigan hitting the back of your ankles and making your shorts and tank top seem even more cozier. The sound of birds makes you smile as you take a deep breath of the fresh morning air, walking to the little garden with a watering can in your hand.

“Good morning” he said softly, his voice strained and tired. You smile and your head snaps up to look at him, your smile falling as you take him in.

You set down the watering can and stand, making your way to him in an instant. “Are you okay?” You ask, your hands reach for him but stop a short distance away. His face had a bandage on his cheek and forehead, his left hand wrapped, and a bruise forming around his left eye. “Just a couple scratches is all” he says, taking one of your hands with his right hand and slowly leads you back to the plants. “They’re growing nicely” he says as he looks down at the sprouts, already a little tall and poking out of the dirt in just a week.

He drops your hand to pick up the watering can, raining down the cool liquid over your plants, the dry lightened dirt turning dark brown. “You’re going to work?” He asks and you shrug “I don’t have anything special to do today, and if I’m being honest” you blush and take the can from his hand, walking to put it away so you didn’t have to look at him “I wanted to go in today so I didn’t think about how much I wanted to talk to you”

His breath catches and his wounds don’t even throb anymore, he wasn’t paying attention. All that matters is the soft way your voice reached his ears, saying something he didn’t even realize he was hoping for. You’ve been missing him, just as much as he seemed to miss you. “Will you get some breakfast with me?” He asks, his voice normal, hiding every anxiety and feeling deep in his heart, but as you turned and met his eye you could see the hope he's feeling in them.

“I was thinking” you say after Konro excuses himself from breakfast, leaving you and Beni alone. “Could you.. I mean. Do you know of anyone who could train me with my abilities? If it’s possible I could get stronger then I want to” your hands are in closed fists against your thighs and you me eyes shone with the determination you feel. He chuckles softly, popping a piece of fruit in his mouth and thinking as he chews. “I think I could figure something out. Tomorrow night work for you?” You beam at him, grinning from ear to ear with excitement “that works perfect!” You place your hand on his arm that rests against the table “Thank you Benimaru” you say softly and he nods, trying desperately to suppress the blush he feels is imminent.

The next evening you went out to check your ganden before you were supposed to train, you hoped that he had found someone nice to help you. “Are you ready?” He asks behind you and you smile while you stand from your place by the small growing herbs “as I’ll ever be! Who will you have train me?” You ask and meet his eyes, raising yours brows in question, noticing his face was without his bandages today and his wounds really did look like scratches. “I will” he states and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

You take a couple steps towards him “no!” You exclaim louder than intended and you laugh once awkwardly as his eyebrows raise “I mean. You’re hurt! and my power is so low it’s not worth your time. I’ve seen the boys you train! their power and skill is levels higher than me” he walks over to you, setting his right hand on your shoulder and leaning down to your ear “I want to” he whispers and your cheeks dust pink as a small gasp leaves your throat, oh how he desperately loved that sound. He pulls back with a smirk “and I’ve said” he raises his left hand that still had a small bandage around his palm “it’s just a scratch” he begins to walk away from you, over to the training space and you’re stunned for a few moments. Standing there and watching his back as he walked away, your heartbeat racing and your brain empty save it for the way Benimaru’s breath tickled your ear.

“Well?” He asks when he realizes you’re not following him, turning back and looking at you with daring eyes, snapping you back into reality. Your smile spreads and the sight sends him over the moon, a feeling invading his heart that he’s become enamored with these past few days having you at the guardhouse. You were the sun slowly rising in his life, and he was drawn to your warmth. “Let’s do this” you say as you reach his side, the back of your hand brushing his for only a moment but it sends fireworks up his arm.

“Show me what you can do, outside of lanterns” he says as he stands to the side, his eyes taking in your form as you stand facing him. You hold up your hands and nod once, the tip of each finger igniting in small flames. “I can’t make them bigger but I can do..” you tighten each flame to smaller tips, growing in power and heat until they blazed like the head of welding guns. He nods once “she’s more powerful than she realizes” he thinks as he watches the flames reflecting your eyes.

“That’s good” he says as he approaches you “is this all you know how to do?” He asks as he takes a hold of your wrists gently, turning your hands and looking at your flames. “I couldn’t really practice a lot growing up so this is it unfortunately” he chuckles once, mostly just air from his nose, but it made you smile anyway. “Can you control which fingers or..” before he finishes you start randomly lighting and unlighting fingertips. “Now try to shoot the flames out” he says and you nod, trying to push the flames out but just ending up breaking a sweat and flashing your flames, not going anywhere else.

After fifteen minutes of absolutely nothing happening you sigh and flung your hands up in the air “I can not be this WEAK” you exclaim and shake them as you scowl. He sighs and comes over to you, reaching up and smoothing out your eyebrows gently before holding his hands out to you.

You hesitate, your hands almost being set in his before you pause and he raises his eyebrows “chicken” he whispers and you drop your hands against his “tch” he clicks his tongue and you roll your eyes as he uses his thumbs and first two fingers to rub your wrist gently “it’s your first test. Relax” he says, his fingers moving to the middle of your hand “there are many other things we’ll try, none of which make you weak if you can’t do them” goosebumps running down your spine as he moves down each finger, your breath catching in your throat with how gentle he was being with you and how nice it felt for him to be doing this to your hands, another sound that he found he adored. He brings your hands up and kisses each knuckle softly, effectively short wiring your brain yet again. “Try again” he whispers, letting your hands go and standing back again.

You took a deep shaky breath and closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin and the warmth he has ignited in your heart, before opening your eyes and shoving your hands out, each finger popping as flames, strong, bright blue flames, shoot from each finger.

“BENIMARU!” You shout and laugh, dropping the flames and turning to run and throw your arms around his neck “oof” he mumbles as you hit him, his arms wrapping around you to keep you both stable. “I did it! I did it! I did it!” He sighs softly into your hair, “I saw” he whispered “wanna find out what else you can do?” He asks, his lips brushing against the side of your head. You squeeze him closer for a moment before pulling back “does this mean I should call you my Senpai? Or my Captain?” He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the blush that rose to his cheeks “No.” he says, but you laugh when he won’t meet your eye.

“You’ve come a long way for just a few hours” he says as you walk back to the garden, the sun beginning to set “you’re a really amazing teacher” you lean in close “Captain” you whisper before making a turn for the hose. He stops in his tracks after you whispered, his heart fluttering in his chest as he forces himself to calm down before turning and walking over to you

You look up to him from where you were crouched, running hose in one hand after you washed your face and the back of your neck. “You look a little flushed” you say as he crouches by you, reaching out for the hose. He just Humphs as you move the water closer to him, a smirk in your lips and mischief in his eyes that he would have known right away had he looked up at you.

Your thumb covers the end just so as he leans down, raising the pressure as it hits his hands spraying his face as well. You chuckle before placing your fingers against your lips, holding in as much of your giggles as you could. He slowly looks up into your eyes, water droplets falling from his hair and nose, he was annoyed for half of a second until he meets your eyes, notices the sweet mischief in your eyes and hears your soft giggles as they leave your lips. “Did you just..” you nod and slowly stand to back away from him, the mischief rising to his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. He stands and takes one step towards you and you raise your emotu hand, “WAIT” you say and he stops “we.. we can talk about this..” you say with a smile, giggles escaping with every exhale. “I think we’re too far past talking about this” he says before he moves, quick with his hand out towards the hose but you scream and try to run, spraying him behind you as he gets closer. He laughs as he grabs you, his arms wrapping around your middle from behind not caring about the cool hose water that was currently soaking him. He reaches up and takes the hose from your hand and turns you around before smiling and slowly running the water across the back of your head then across both of your shoulders making you gasp and tense in his hold. “I think we’re even now” you say with a shiver and a laugh and he cocks his head “not yet” he says softly, his hands reaching up to tuck your damp hair behind your ears.

You gasp, his cold fingers cooling off your warm cheeks as he cups your face. The hose forgotten about, dropped on the grass by your feet, soaking the earth and making your toes muddy. But nothing else matters besides the way he’s looking at you and the way the sun is turning the sky red behind him.

Your hands grip the sides of his soaked shirt as you lean into him “and how, tell me, can we make it even?” You ask, following his hands with your face as he pulls you closer, his body curving forward as you lean forward on your tip toes, brushing your nose against his making his breath hitch “can I show you?” He whispers and you nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he closes the last inch between your lips.

Kissing him felt like the first breath of fresh air after an infernal has been put to rest. Felt like the first relaxing step into a hot spring. It sends goosebumps from your head to his toes before being followed by electricity making your skin tingle. Fireworks dance across the backs of your eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tight against him. You sigh as your heart sways within your chest, comforting and warm as he holds you like his lifeline.

His thumb brushes softly against your cheek when he pulls away. Your hands smooth out his shirt before running your hands up his wet chest, his hands moving down to both rest against your waist. You can’t think of anything to say, just savoring the moment as you look into his eyes.

“Are you guys coming to dinner?” The twins say from the porch, effectively startling the hell out of you. You gasp and clutch your heart as Beni just smiles down at you, his back to them. “Thanks. We’ll be there in a minute” he says and they skip off. “We should get going. We’re gonna get sick” you say and reach up, running a hand through your damp hair. He reaches down and turns off the hose as you gather it, putting it away correctly and he reaches out, hooking his fingers with yours. “Mom will kill me if you get sick” he says softly and you laugh “maybe you could.. help me clean up. Make sure I don’t get sick” he coughs a few times, choking on his spit in shock and you laugh “Beni” you say softly and pause in the doorway, looking up at him. “I’m playing. I really like you. I’d like to take it as slow or fast as we both are comfortable with, okay?” You reach up and ruffle his damp hair, pushing it out of his eyes. His cheeks flush and he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours as your eyes close. “I adore you” he whispers and your heart flutters. “Let’s go get cleaned up” he whispers and squeezes your hand, guiding you along with him to the showers.

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