#a strong breeze could knock my off my feet

[th1nsp1r4t10n4l]

I'm so tempted to keep posting pics of myself at my LW

It's so triggering (in a good way) to see what I can achieve. No sense in lying to myself about my limits when I have physical proof of what I can achieve.

[astrxq]

HERE ME OUT PLEASE Spider-Man!cregan x reader. Cregan bump into reader at school when he is not in disguise and they became from then on, maybe? and meet reader again when he is in disguise (he could save her from being rob or save her while fighting villain.) which they also form a bond. They both sort of develop a crush on each other from then on Cregan is just smitten and reader is just like “I like this Spider-Man dude but I also like this Cregan guy”. Then one day spider!Cregan is injured and come to reader for help and reveal himself as Cregan. He confess to her that he just inlove with her since day one. Overall just fluff and cliché stuff.

(I’m srsly sorry if I made no sense at all😭🙏)

Between Masks and Moments

spider-man!cregan x reader

words: 13.5k

notes: this was longer than i intended it to be 😭 i thought i was about 6k words in and when i checked the word count it was already at 12k… but i hope you like it!

The first time you truly noticed Cregan Stark, it was because he nearly knocked you off your feet.

As you rounded the corner of the science building, lost in thought about the upcoming lecture, you collided with something solid. No, not something – someone. Your books tumbled to the ground, pages fluttering in the damp breeze, and you stumbled backward, nearly losing your footing.

"Oh, shit," a deep voice muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up, ready to brush off the apology with a quick 'no problem,' but the words died in your throat. Standing before you was Cregan Stark, the quiet, brooding guy from your biochemistry class. He was already crouching down, gathering your scattered belongings with large, careful hands.

You'd never been this close to him before. Sure, you'd stolen glances during lectures, admiring his strong jawline and the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he took notes. But now, mere inches away, you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged appearance.

"It's okay," you finally managed to say, kneeling down to help him. "I wasn't really paying attention either."

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before quickly darting away. Was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks? No, it had to be the chill in the air.

"Here," he said, handing you your books. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but there was a gentleness in the way he handled your things that contradicted his tone. "Sorry again."

You took the books from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against his. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, and you quickly pulled your hand back. "Thanks," you murmured.

Cregan stood up, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you. You'd always known he was tall, but up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the entire world behind him.

You straightened up, clutching your books to your chest, and for a moment, you were both frozen in the narrow hallway, caught in a strange, tense silence. Cregan shifted his weight, his brow furrowing even more, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something else or just walk away.

He settled on the former.

"You're in my biochem class, right?" His tone was still a bit gruff, but there was an underlying softness.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up. "Yeah, I am. You're Cregan, right?"

He gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and you felt the awkwardness creeping in. But before it could fully take hold, Cregan surprised you by speaking again.

"Do you need help with that stuff?" He glanced at the stack of books in your arms, his expression hard to read. 

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "I mean, if you're not in a hurry, I wouldn't mind."

Cregan exhaled a short breath, almost like a sigh, but he reached out anyway, taking half the books from your arms. His hands were warm and strong, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to hold them longer, to feel that warmth without the excuse of fallen books.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice softer now, less annoyed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something almost shy, though you'd never describe Cregan Stark as shy.

"The library," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was going to study before the next class."

Cregan gave another one of those short nods and started walking beside you, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace. As you walked together, the silence between you wasn't as awkward as you'd expected. In fact, it was almost comfortable, as if Cregan's brooding presence somehow grounded you, made the chaotic noise of the school fade into the background.

When you reached the library, you stopped by one of the tables near the back, where it was quiet and the light was softer. Cregan set your books down, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at them, then at you, like he was debating something in his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," you said, breaking the silence.

Cregan's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was that flicker of something again – a hint of warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "See you in class."

You watched as he turned to leave, his broad back disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were still holding your breath. There was something about Cregan Stark that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that lingered in your thoughts long after he'd walked away.

As you sat down to study, you found it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the way his voice had gentled, just for a moment. 

For Cregan, that collision in the hallway was both a dream come true and his worst nightmare.

He'd noticed you on the first day of class, drawn to your quiet intelligence and the way your eyes lit up when you understood a particularly difficult concept. Over the weeks, he'd found himself stealing glances at you during lectures, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating, or how you'd bite your lip when you were deep in thought.

But Cregan had never allowed himself to entertain the possibility of actually talking to you. His life was complicated enough without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Between his duties as Spider-Man, his studies, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, he'd convinced himself that he didn't have time for a relationship. Besides, he reasoned, what could he possibly offer someone like you?

So he'd contented himself with admiring you from afar, treasuring those small moments of connection when you'd make eye contact across the lecture hall or exchange polite nods in the hallway. He told himself it was enough, that his crush was just a harmless distraction from the weight of his responsibilities.

But now, as he walked away from the library, his heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his spider-enhanced physiology. The memory of your touch, brief as it was, sent electricity coursing through his veins. The scent of your shampoo lingered in his nostrils, and he couldn't shake the image of your eyes looking up at him, wide with surprise and something else... interest, maybe?

Cregan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was a chemistry lab to prepare for, and after that, he had to patrol the city. The weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders, and he felt his expression harden into its usual brooding mask.

But as he pushed open the door to the science building, he couldn't help but glance back towards the library. For the first time in a long while, Cregan allowed himself to wonder: what if?

_________

The next few days passed in a blur of lectures, lab work, and late-night patrols. You found yourself paying more attention to Cregan in class, noticing things you'd overlooked before. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight twitch of his lips when the professor made a particularly bad science pun, the graceful strength in his hands as he manipulated lab equipment.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you too. His gaze would quickly dart away, but not before you noticed a softness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his usual gruff demeanor. It made you wonder what was going on behind that brooding exterior.

You'd exchanged a few more words since your collision – a quiet "hey" as you took your seats, a muttered "thanks" when he held the door for you. Each time, you felt a little thrill of... something. Anticipation? Curiosity? You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

It was Friday evening when everything changed. 

The streets were unusually quiet for a Friday night. Most people were already indoors, safe from the impending downpour. You turned down a narrow alley, a familiar shortcut you often took when in a hurry. The light from the streetlamps barely penetrated the shadows here, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You told yourself it was just your imagination, that the looming storm and the empty streets were playing tricks on your mind.

But as you reached the halfway point of the alley, you heard it – a soft rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickened your pace, your breath catching in your throat.

"Hey, where are you heading so fast?" a voice called out. You didn’t dare look back, your instincts screaming at you to keep moving.

The footsteps grew closer, the tension wrapping around you like a vice. You were almost at the end of the alley when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking your path. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build and a predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice mockingly sweet. The way he stood, arms loose at his sides, suggested a confidence that chilled you to the bone. You were trapped.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but the options were grim. You could scream, but who would hear you? Your phone was buried in your bag, useless in the face of such immediate danger.

As the man stepped closer, you took a shaky step back, only to feel a solid wall of muscle behind you. Another one, you realized with a sinking heart. You were cornered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. But before the situation could escalate, a sound split the air – a sharp, almost imperceptible *thwip*. 

And then, everything happened at once.

A blur of red and blue dropped down from above, moving with a speed and precision that left you breathless. The man behind you was yanked away, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was thrown against the wall, his hands and feet bound by sticky webbing. The other barely had time to react before he too was disarmed and pinned to the ground, a web cocoon forming around him in seconds.

You stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, as Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – landed lightly in front of you. His eyes, hidden behind those iconic white lenses, seemed to scan you for any sign of injury. The air around you crackled with tension, but now it was a different kind – the kind that came with knowing you were safe, even if only for the moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably concerned.

You nodded numbly, unable to find your voice. Up close, Spider-Man was even more imposing than you’d imagined, but there was something comforting in his presence, something that made the terror of the last few minutes begin to ebb away.

"Good," he said, his tone gentle now. He hesitated, moving to place a hand on your arm but not quite reaching you before he pulled back. “Do you need water or something?”

You glanced at the two thugs, now securely webbed to the walls, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief. You’d been saved by Spider-Man – a hero who was as much a myth as he was a reality in your mind. Unable to find your voice, you shook your head. 

"Thank you," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you. "It’s no problem. But it’s not safe to be out here alone, especially this late. Do you need a lift home?"

The offer caught you off guard. A lift home? With Spider-Man?

You hesitated, then nodded. "That...that would be great."

Without another word, Spider-Man stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist with surprising ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Your heart raced – not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the way his presence seemed to envelop you.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he shot a web into the night sky and the ground disappeared beneath you. You clung to him instinctively, your eyes squeezing shut as the wind rushed past your face, cool and refreshing in the humid night air.

All too soon, after you’d instructed him the way to your home, the flight ended as Spider-Man landed gracefully on the fire escape outside your apartment window. He set you down gently, his arm lingering around your waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

"Home sweet home," he quipped, his tone light.

You took a step back, trying to steady your breath. "Thank you," you said again, your voice softer this time. "Really, I don’t know how to repay you."

Spider-Man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something internally. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit? The view’s not bad."

You blinked in surprise. Was Spider-Man asking to stay? With you? The night was full of surprises, it seemed.

"Sure," you said, moving towards the window and gesturing for him to follow. "I’ve never had a guest on my fire escape before."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "First time for everything."

You both settled onto the metal platform, the city spread out before you like a living, breathing canvas. The air was cool now, the storm holding off for just a little longer, and for a moment, you simply sat there in silence, letting the night speak for itself.

"You live here alone?" he asked after a while, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at him. His mask hid his expression, but there was a certain softness in the way he held himself, a relaxation you hadn’t expected. "It’s not much, but it’s home."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "It must get lonely sometimes."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, but either way, you felt an odd connection in that moment, a shared understanding of what it meant to be alone in a city full of people.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your gaze drifting back to the city skyline. "But I guess that’s just part of life, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the breeze. "Part of life."

For a while longer, you both sat there, the city a quiet hum in the background. And in that silence, there was a comfort, a sense of companionship that neither of you had expected but both seemed to need.

“Do you want pizza?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. At the mention of food, his head shot up. 

“You’ve got pizza?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, I do. It’s leftover from earlier. It’s probably cold by now, but–”

Spider-Man’s enthusiasm seemed to overflow. “Cold pizza is fine! In fact, it’s the best kind of pizza!”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting, to share such a simple moment with someone who seemed so larger-than-life.

“Alright then, let me grab it,” you said, moving toward the window. As you opened it and stepped inside, you could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you.

You retrieved the pizza from the fridge, the box still warm from its earlier stint in the oven. Returning to the fire escape, you offered it to Spider-Man with a shy, almost playful grin.

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the box. “Cold pizza and all.”

He took it eagerly, setting it down beside him on the metal ledge. 

You took a seat next to him, the cool metal beneath you grounding you after the adrenaline of the earlier encounter. The city lights below twinkled like stars, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening seemed to fade away.

Spider-Man popped open the pizza box, revealing a slightly congealed but still appetizing array of toppings. He pulled out a slice with deft movements and took a large bite, pulling up his mask just enough for you to not be able to make out his identity, his mask making the act look both humorous and oddly endearing.

"So," Spider-Man said as he took another bite, "late night at the library?"

You blinked, surprised by the casual conversation. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "The stack of textbooks in your bag was a pretty big clue.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the distant rumble of thunder as the storm prepared to make its entrance. "I guess I should have guessed you'd notice something like that."

Spider-Man nodded, a playful glint visible in the sliver of his eyes. "It's kind of my thing to notice details. Helps with the whole hero gig."

You bit into a slice of pizza, the cold cheese and slightly chewy crust a comforting contrast to the evening’s chaos. Spider-Man’s relaxed demeanor made it feel like you were just two friends sharing a late-night snack, not someone in need of rescue and the rescuer himself.

"What's your favorite topping?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation to something light.

He looked at the slice in his hand, contemplating. "Pepperoni. Classic choice, but it’s hard to beat."

You grinned. “Pepperoni?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I have to say, bacon is the superior topping.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he mock-gasped, holding his pizza slice up as if it were a shield. “Bacon? How could you betray the classic pepperoni like that?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the fire escape’s metal railing. 

“You can’t be serious,” Spider-Man said, feigning outrage. “Pepperoni is a staple. Bacon is great, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a well-cooked pepperoni slice.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his animated reaction. “Bacon adds a crispy, savory kick that pepperoni just can’t match. And don’t tell me you haven’t had bacon on pizza before. It’s like a flavor explosion.”

“Flavor explosion?” Spider-Man’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of laughter in it. “More like a greasy mess. And don’t get me started on how bacon can overshadow the other toppings. Pepperoni complements the cheese, the sauce – it’s harmonious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Spider-Man’s dramatic reaction. The absurdity of debating pizza toppings with a superhero in the middle of the night struck you as hilariously surreal.

“Oh, come on,” you said, shaking your head. “Bacon doesn’t overshadow. It complements! It’s like having a surprise party on your pizza. You take a bite, and bam! – there’s the crispy, smoky goodness.”

Spider-Man pretended to shudder. “A surprise party?” he chuckled. “Agree to disagree. I’m sticking with my classic.”

You smiled, “I’ll take that as my win.”

You couldn’t quite believe it. There you were, sitting on your fire escape, and locked in a passionate debate about pizza toppings with Spider-Man. Spider-Man. The same superhero who swung through the night, fighting villains and saving lives. And here he was, playfully defending pepperoni against your undying love for bacon.

It felt like a scene plucked from a dream – a surreal interlude where the chaos of the night melted away into a shared moment of absurdity and connection. Inside your tiny apartment, the city was a backdrop, a distant hum of life and noise that barely intruded on this bizarrely intimate conversation.

The superhero was right there, his masked face only partially visible in the dim light, but clearly animated and engaged in a debate over something as trivial as pizza toppings.

"I might have to swing by more often just to change your mind about that pizza."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Oh?" you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Spider-Man tilted his head, and even though you couldn't see his face, you could almost feel the grin behind his mask. "Well," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I could always bring you some properly topped pizza. Show you the error of your bacon-loving ways."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. The thought of Spider-Man swinging by again, just to bring you pizza, seemed both thrilling and strangely domestic.

"I'd like that," you said softly, surprising yourself with your honesty. "Though I think you'll have a hard time converting me."

Spider-Man chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice tinged with a playfulness that made your heart race.

For a moment, you both fell silent, the weight of the evening's events settling back over you. The pizza box lay empty between you, a testament to the strange normalcy you'd managed to carve out of this surreal situation.

Finally, Spider-Man stood, stretching as if preparing to leave. "I should get going. There’s always more to do."

You nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. "Thanks again, for everything."

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "Anytime," he said, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Before you could answer, he gave a final nod, and in a graceful, practiced motion, he leaped off the fire escape. For a moment, you watched as he soared into the night, his silhouette briefly illuminated by the distant streetlights. Then, with a soft whoosh, he was gone, disappearing into the urban tapestry of lights and shadows.

That night, as you laid in bed, your mind raced with thoughts of both Cregan and Spider-Man. The quiet, brooding boy from your class and the witty, heroic figure who had saved you – they couldn't be more different. And yet, there was something about both of them that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

Little did you know, across the city, Cregan was having similar thoughts about you. As he peeled off his Spider-Man suit, wincing at the bruises from his earlier fight, he couldn't shake the memory of holding you close as he swung through the city. He'd been drawn to you for weeks, admiring you from afar in class. But tonight, he'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be close to you, to talk to you without the awkwardness that always seemed to plague him as Cregan.

As Spider-Man, he could be confident, even flirtatious. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say to you but never had the courage to. It was liberating, but also terrifying. Because now, more than ever, he wanted to know you, to be close to you. But how could he do that without revealing his secret? How could he be both the Cregan you knew from class and the Spider-Man who had saved you tonight?

_________

The week following your encounter with Spider-Man was a strange blend of normalcy and surreal anticipation. You went about your daily routine – attending classes, studying, grabbing coffee with friends – but there was an undercurrent of excitement, a constant awareness that at any moment, you might spot a flash of red and blue swinging between buildings.

For Cregan, the week was a torturous exercise in self-restraint. Every time he saw you in class or passed you in the hallway, his heart rate spiked. He found himself torn between an overwhelming desire to talk to you and a paralyzing fear of giving himself away.

The first few days, he limited himself to small, careful interactions. A wave as you entered the lecture hall. A nod of acknowledgment when your eyes met across the cafeteria. Each time, he felt a surge of warmth at your answering smile, but he always pulled back before he could do or say anything more.

At night, as he patrolled the city, Cregan found his thoughts constantly drifting back to you. He'd catch himself swinging past your apartment building, telling himself he was just checking to make sure you were safe. But deep down, he knew he was hoping for another chance encounter, another opportunity to talk to you as Spider-Man.

By Thursday, the tension was becoming unbearable. Cregan knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely. He had to make a decision – either find a way to approach you as Cregan Stark or risk losing any chance of a real connection.

It was Friday afternoon when he finally worked up the courage to act. He spotted you entering the library, arms full of books. Taking a deep breath, Cregan followed you inside.

He watched as you settled at a table near the back, the same spot where he'd left you after your collision the week before. For a moment, he hesitated, second-guessing himself. What if you didn't want to be bothered? What if you preferred the quiet, grumpy Cregan from class and were put off by any attempt at friendliness?

But then he remembered the way you'd laughed with Spider-Man, the easy conversation you'd shared over cold pizza. He wanted that – not just as his masked alter ego, but as himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Cregan approached your table. When you didn’t look up, he cleared his throat. 

"Hey," he said softly, mindful of the library's quiet atmosphere. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Cregan thought you might say no. But then your expression softened into a smile. "Sure," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair next to you as you cleared the table for him. "There's plenty of room."

Cregan sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. Up close, he could see the flecks of color in your eyes, the same ones he'd admired from behind his mask. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say.

"Biochem midterm?" he asked, nodding towards the textbook open in front of you.

You nodded, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "Yeah. I'm still struggling with some of the enzyme kinetics concepts."

Cregan felt a flutter of excitement. This, he could handle. Science was his element, a language he spoke fluently even when words failed him in other areas. "I could help, if you want," he offered, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine eagerness. "I've got a pretty good handle on that stuff."

Your eyes lit up, and Cregan felt his breath catch. "Really? That would be amazing. I've been staring at these diagrams for hours, and they're still not making sense."

As Cregan leaned in to look at your textbook, he felt some of his nervousness begin to ebb away. This was familiar territory – explaining scientific concepts, breaking down complex ideas into simpler parts.

You shifted your chair slightly closer to his, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both peered down at the open textbook. Cregan felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his skin tingling where you'd touched. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made his heart race even faster. 

He focused on the page, the neatly printed equations and diagrams suddenly feeling more daunting than they'd ever been in his own studies. But you were looking at him expectantly, and Cregan knew he had to push through the nerves that threatened to steal his voice.

"Okay, so," he began, his voice just above a whisper, "enzyme kinetics can be tricky because it’s all about how the enzymes interact with the substrates. Think of it like... a dance. Each enzyme has a specific partner, and the speed of the reaction depends on how well they fit together and move in sync."

You nodded, leaning in closer, your brow furrowed in concentration. Cregan’s eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips pursed slightly as you tried to grasp the concept. He found himself lingering on the curve of your mouth, the soft glow of your skin under the library’s dim lighting.

As he explained further, your questions came, your voice soft and inviting, drawing him deeper into the conversation. Each time you spoke, Cregan’s heart would stutter, your words weaving into the atmosphere between you. He would catch himself staring at your hands as they moved across the page, slender fingers tracing the diagrams he described, and wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

The tension from earlier began to melt away, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of you had expected. Cregan leaned in even closer, his shoulder now pressed fully against yours. You didn’t move away – instead, you tilted your head towards him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

The library seemed to fade around you, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant shuffle of pages and whispers all but disappearing. It was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of soft words and shared focus. Cregan felt his guard lowering, the lines between Cregan Stark and Spider-Man blurring as he let himself enjoy this simple, honest moment with you.

Every time you asked a question, Cregan felt a little more of his confidence return. He could see the frustration in your eyes begin to ease, replaced by a spark of understanding that made him want to keep talking, keep sharing this part of himself with you. 

Finally, after what felt like both a brief and endless stretch of time, you smiled – a real, bright smile that made something in Cregan’s chest ache with warmth.

“That actually makes sense now. I don’t know how to thank you, Cregan.” you said, leaning back in your chair, though still close enough that your knees brushed his under the table.

Cregan's breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and full of gratitude. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied, "I’m glad I could help. It’s, uh, nice to talk about this stuff with someone who gets it." His words trailed off into a nervous laugh, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the textbook.

You laughed softly, a sound that made Cregan’s pulse quicken. "Well, I’m lucky to have found the best tutor around," you teased, the warmth in your tone making his cheeks flush.

Cregan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on the impossible closeness of you, the way your laughter wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He wanted to say more, to tell you how much he’d been thinking about you, how every time he saw you, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. But he held back, scared to break the delicate balance of this moment.

Instead, he settled for a simple, "Anytime," the word heavy with everything he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. 

As the silence stretched between you, neither of you moved away. Cregan's hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers inching just a bit closer to where yours lay, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. 

“Would you tutor me for biochem? I can pay you,”

Your question hung in the air between you, and Cregan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected you to ask, and the offer of payment made something in him twist uncomfortably. You were offering him something concrete, something logical – an exchange of services – but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign that you were asking out of more than just academic need. But all he saw was sincerity, a touch of hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe, something else – a faint flicker of warmth that made him wonder if you felt the same connection he did.

Cregan swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in his chest. The last thing he wanted was for this to become transactional, something that would reduce your time together to a simple tutor-student dynamic. He didn’t want your money. He wanted your company, your laughter, the way your presence seemed to quiet the rest of the world.

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” he stammered, his voice softer than he intended. “I’d be happy to help. Really. I mean, it’s kind of fun, right? We can just, uh, study together whenever you need. No strings attached.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but he meant every one of them. He watched you carefully, nervous about how you’d react. For a split second, he worried that maybe you’d misunderstand – that you’d think he wasn’t taking you seriously, or that he was brushing off your offer.

But then you smiled, a slow, warm curve of your lips that made Cregan’s pulse quicken again. “Are you sure?” you asked, though there was a lightness in your tone now, as if you’d already guessed his answer. “I don’t want to take up your time for nothing.”

Cregan shook his head, his own smile starting to form. “It’s not nothing,” he said, feeling a bit of his confidence return. “Besides, I could use the review too. Biochem’s always easier with someone else to bounce ideas off of.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I owe you a coffee at least. No arguments. That’s non-negotiable.”

Cregan’s heart soared at the thought of spending more time with you, of sharing something as simple and normal as a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a date – not exactly – but it felt like a step closer to something more, something real. He nodded quickly, eager to accept any excuse to see you outside of class, outside of these quiet, studious moments.

“Deal,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, though he knew he was failing miserably. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, his nerves returning in full force.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding that went beyond the words you’d exchanged. Cregan’s hand was still on the edge of the table, close to yours, and he wondered if you’d noticed just how near they were.

But before he could overthink it, you shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his as you adjusted your textbook. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his skin buzzing with the sensation.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “For the coffee? We can meet after class.”

Cregan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, feeling like it couldn’t come fast enough. The thought of seeing you again, of sitting across from you with a cup of coffee, made everything else fade into the background. 

As he watched you disappear around the corner of a bookshelf, Cregan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the coffee shop, to the prospect of spending more time with you outside of the confines of the classroom or library.

But as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a familiar anxiety started to creep in. How was he going to balance this? His life as Cregan Stark, college student and potential friend (maybe more?) to you, with his responsibilities as Spider-Man? What if there was an emergency during their coffee... not-date? What if you started to notice his frequent disappearances, his unexplained bruises?

You found yourself replaying your conversation in your mind, smiling at the memory of his shy smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked. There was something about Cregan Stark that intrigued you, a depth that you were eager to explore further.

But as much as Cregan occupied your thoughts, you couldn't shake the memory of your encounter with Spider-Man. The masked hero's wit and charm had left an impression, and you often found yourself glancing up at the sky, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging between buildings.

It was a week after your encounter when your path crossed with Spider-Man again. You were walking home late, having stayed at the library longer than intended, your mind still buzzing with biochemistry formulas and the lingering warmth of your interactions with Cregan.

The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft thud behind you. Almost.

"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone at night," a familiar voice called out, playful but with an undercurrent of concern. "Even in this neighborhood."

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat. There, perched on a nearby lamppost, was Spider-Man, his masked face tilted towards you in a way that suggested he was smiling.

"Are you following me?" a mix of surprise and excitement coloring your voice. 

He chuckled, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine. "Just keeping an eye on the city," he replied, his tone light. "But I have to admit, I'm glad I ran into you again. How've you been?"

You couldn't help but smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I've been good," you said, taking a step closer to the lamppost. "No more late-night alley adventures, if that's what you're asking."

Spider-Man laughed again, dropping down from the lamppost to stand in front of you. Even with the mask, you could sense his amusement. "Good to hear. Though I have to say, I was hoping for an excuse to swoop in and save the day again."

There was something in his voice, a hint of flirtation that made your pulse quicken. You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh? And here I thought you had plenty of other damsels in distress to rescue."

"Ah, but none quite as intriguing as you," he quipped, his head tilting in a way that made you wonder what expression he was wearing beneath the mask.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, thankful for the dim streetlight that probably hid it. "Intriguing, huh? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried."

Spider-Man took a step closer, and you were suddenly very aware of his presence, the way he seemed to radiate a mix of confidence and nervous energy. "Definitely flattered," he said, his voice softer now. "Trust me, it takes a lot to catch a spider's attention."

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "Well, consider me honored then," you replied, surprised by your own boldness. "Though I have to say, you're pretty intriguing yourself, Spider-Man."

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that, and you could almost imagine the grin behind his mask. "Oh yeah? Care to elaborate on that?"

You pretended to consider for a moment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I hear you have excellent taste in pizza toppings."

Spider-Man laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Though I still maintain that pepperoni is superior to bacon."

You gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Maybe I could change your mind," he said, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something more. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the pizza box he was hiding behind his back until he held it up. “Might just change your mind.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the pizza box. "You brought pizza? Were you planning this encounter, Spider-Man?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

He shrugged, the movement oddly graceful. "Let's just say I had a hunch I might run into you. And I never pass up an opportunity to prove the superiority of pepperoni."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to turn down free pizza. But where exactly are we going to eat it? I don't think the sidewalk is the most romantic spot for a pizza date."

The word 'date' slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Spider-Man seemed to pause for a moment, and you wondered if he was blushing too, beneath that mask.

"Date, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Well, if it's romance you're after, I think I know just the spot. Do you trust me?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm not sure if I should trust a man in a mask, but..."

Spider-Man stepped closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice low and warm.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arm was around your waist, pulling you close against his side. You barely had time to wrap your arms around his neck before he shot a web upwards, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The city rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the cool night air whipping past you. You clung tightly to Spider-Man, your heart racing from a mixture of adrenaline and proximity. His body was warm and solid against yours, and even through the suit, you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you securely.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you landed softly on a rooftop. Spider-Man gently set you down, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I'm... wow. That was incredible."

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you gasped softly. The rooftop offered a stunning view of the city skyline, lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way you'd never experienced the city before.

"This is amazing," you said softly, turning to look at Spider-Man. "How did you find this place?"

He shrugged, setting the pizza box down on a nearby ledge. "I swing by a lot of rooftops. This one's always been a favorite. It's quiet, and the view... well, it speaks for itself."

You nodded in agreement, moving to sit on the ledge next to the pizza box. Spider-Man joined you, his movements fluid and graceful.

"So," he said, opening the box and revealing a steaming pepperoni pizza, "ready to have your mind changed about the ultimate pizza topping?"

You laughed, reaching for a slice. "We'll see about that. I'm not easily swayed."

As you both ate, you fell into easy conversation. Spider-Man was witty and charming, his jokes making you laugh even as you rolled your eyes. But there were moments, brief flashes when his voice would soften or he'd tilt his head in a certain way, that reminded you startlingly of Cregan.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the surreal experience of sharing pizza on a rooftop with a superhero. As the night wore on and the pizza dwindled, you found yourself relaxing, leaning slightly closer to Spider-Man.

"Okay," you admitted finally, "I have to say, this pepperoni pizza is pretty good."

Spider-Man pumped his fist in victory. "I knew it! Another convert to the pepperoni side."

You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Don't get too cocky. I still maintain that bacon has its merits."

He turned to face you, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying to convince you," he said softly.

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the warmth of his presence and the intimacy of the moment.

"Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spider-Man's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to you, but he caught himself. "It might be," he replied, his tone a mix of playfulness and something deeper, more sincere. "If you're interested in more rooftop pizza, that is."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I might be," you echoed his words, your eyes never leaving his masked face. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not easily won over. It might take a lot of convincing."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I'm up for the challenge."

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence, the city sprawling out beneath you like a living, breathing entity. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of traffic and distant sirens, reminding you of the world beyond this rooftop.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, turning to face him fully.

Spider-Man nodded, his posture shifting to give you his full attention. "Shoot."

You hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. "What's it like? Being... you? Having all this power, this responsibility?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd overstepped. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's... complicated," he said finally. "It's exhilarating, knowing I can make a difference, save lives. But it's also terrifying. There's always the fear of not being fast enough, strong enough. Or, well  –  death."

His honesty caught you off guard. You'd expected a quip, maybe a lighthearted deflection. Instead, you got a glimpse of the person behind the mask, vulnerable and achingly human.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult," you said softly. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This city is lucky to have you."

Spider-Man looked down at your hand, then back up to your face. Even through the mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That... means a lot."

You smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand back. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath the suit, the strength coiled just beneath the surface.

Clearing your throat, you looked back out at the city, trying to calm your racing heart. "So, um, do you bring all the girls you save up here for pizza, or am I special?" you asked, aiming for a teasing tone to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man laughed, the sound lighter now. "Oh, definitely special," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "It's not every day I meet someone who can challenge my pizza topping supremacy."

You grinned, feeling the tension ease. "Well, I'm honored.” 

Before you could dwell on it, a distant siren pierced the night air. Spider-Man's head snapped towards the sound, his body tensing.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to you with obvious reluctance. "I have to..."

You nodded, understanding. "Go," you said softly. "It’s okay, I’ll find my way back."

He stood, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a move that surprised you both, he reached out and squeezed your hand gently. "Thanks for... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the rooftop, the remnants of your pizza dinner. "It was nice to just be... me for a while."

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the warmth of his hand on yours. "Anytime, Spider-Man," you replied, meaning it more than you'd expected to.

With a final nod, he stepped to the edge of the roof. "Hold on tight," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he had scooped you up in his arms.

The journey back to street level was a blur of exhilaration and barely suppressed laughter. When your feet touched the ground, you felt oddly bereft, missing the warmth of his arms around you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Would you want to do this again? I mean, maybe not the rooftop pizza – " you laughed lightly, “ – but just, you know, hanging out. Talking. I like it. I like… getting to know you."

He seemed to pause, his head tilting slightly as if he was considering something. Then he nodded. "I’d like that," he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant.

You found yourself smiling, a real one that reached your eyes, as you nodded back. "Great. Maybe... Thursday? Same time? We could meet on the fire scape, like last time.”

He mirrored your smile, though his was a little crooked, like he wasn't used to showing it. "Thursday works."

Neither of you moved to leave just yet. There was a comfortable silence that hung between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you felt the weight of the evening settle in, a sense of contentment mixing with the anticipation of what was to come.

But eventually, reality seeped back in. He straightened, his hand gripping the railing as if grounding himself before he stepped back.

"Stay safe," Spider-Man said, already preparing to swing away.

"You too," you called after him, watching as he disappeared into the night sky.

As you made your way home, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The quiet, brooding Cregan Stark and the charming, mysterious Spider-Man occupied equal space in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever about your own feelings.

As Cregan swung through the city, responding to the siren's call, he couldn't shake the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you'd spoken about him.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, with the wind rushing past him and the city spread out below, Cregan couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the evening he'd just shared with you.

_________

Cregan’s fingers drummed repeatedly on the paper cup in front of him. Your notes were scattered over the table, formulas and equations that had been giving you grief for days now. 

He glanced up from the problem you were stuck on, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Let’s go over it one more time. You’re getting tripped up in the same spot.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the frustration that had been building all week. “I know, it’s just… it doesn’t make sense in my head. I don’t see the connection.”

Cregan paused, his fingers halting their drumming. He leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a reassuring smile. 

“You’re overthinking it. You’ve got the basics down, you just need to trust yourself. Here,” Cregan pointed to a specific equation on your notes, his fingers brushing lightly against the paper as he spoke. 

"See here? This is where you’re losing the thread. You’re thinking too far ahead instead of focusing on this step. Just break it down."

His voice was calm, steady, almost like a grounding force that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, trying to absorb his advice. There was something about the way he explained things that made it easier to understand, like he knew exactly where you were getting lost and how to guide you back.

You worked through the problem again, this time more slowly, following his guidance. Cregan watched you intently, his gaze unwavering, as if he could tell you would find the answer just by being there. And then, finally, it clicked.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the solution suddenly clear as day. “I get it now. It was just that one step throwing me off.”

A small smile tugged at Cregan’s lips, the kind of smile that was rare from him, but when it appeared, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Told you. You’ve got this.”

You grinned back, the weight of your earlier frustration lifting. “Thanks, Cregan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. “You’d figure it out eventually. I’m just here to make it easier.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence that settled between you as you sipped your coffee. Outside, people bustled by, unaware of the quiet connection forming at your little table in the café.

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You know, you’re really good at this. Helping people, I mean.”

Cregan looked almost embarrassed by the compliment, his gaze dropping to his cup. “I just… I like helping you. That’s all.”

His words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the moment stretch out between you, full of unspoken things.

Eventually, Cregan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, you ready for the next problem?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction but also for the time you had with him, these small moments that seemed to mean more than you could fully understand. 

As you worked through the next set of problems, you found yourself more attuned to Cregan’s presence than the equations in front of you. His focus was sharp, eyes scanning your notes with an intensity that seemed out of place for something as mundane as math. Yet, that intensity was what made him so good at this, at seeing what you missed and guiding you through it.

You started the conversation, your voice warm and inviting. "So, Cregan, what else should I know about you? Besides being a whiz at biochem, that is."

Cregan felt a flush creep up his neck at your teasing tone. "I, uh, not much, really," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the coffee shop before settling back on you. "I'm kind of a boring guy, to be honest."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Somehow, I doubt that," you said, leaning forward slightly. 

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he looked away, a faint smile breaking his usual reserved expression. “Well,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I guess I’m into photography. It’s more of a hobby, but it helps me clear my head sometimes.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued by this small revelation. “Photography? That’s really cool. What do you like to photograph?”

Cregan shrugged, a little more at ease now that the focus was off the math and on something more personal. “Mostly cityscapes. Sometimes, I’ll catch the sunrise or sunset if I’m up early – or late – enough. I like capturing moments that people usually overlook.”

There was something almost poetic about the way he spoke, as if he saw the world in a different light, a way that made you want to see it through his eyes. “That sounds… peaceful,” you replied, trying to imagine him in those quiet moments, camera in hand.

“Yeah, it is.” Cregan paused, as if considering how much more to share. “It’s… calming.”

You smiled, feeling a new level of connection with him. “I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

His eyes flicked back to you, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice earnest. “I think it’d be amazing to see the world through your perspective.”

Cregan hesitated, but there was a softness in his expression, a slight warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe I could show you, then. If you’re really interested.”

“I am,” you assured him, your tone gentle yet firm. “I really am.”

The conversation took on a new rhythm after that, a quieter, more personal tone as you both opened up, bit by bit. Cregan asked about your own interests, your goals, the things that made you tick outside of the classroom. He listened intently, his focus unwavering, and even though his responses were often short and to the point, they were always thoughtful, as if he was carefully choosing each word.

You talked about books you loved, places you wanted to visit, dreams you had for the future. And in turn, Cregan shared more about himself – his love for science, his fascination with how things worked, and the quiet joy he found in those moments when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of school and life.

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the café started to empty out, the bustle of the day giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The baristas began their end-of-day routines, but you and Cregan remained, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

At some point, your hands brushed across the table, and though it was brief, it felt like a spark of electricity passed between you. Cregan didn’t pull away, and neither did you. Instead, you both let the touch linger for just a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the growing bond that was forming.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café floor, you realized it was time to go. You packed up your notes, the weight of the day’s work feeling lighter than it had before.

“Thanks for today,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Cregan stood as well, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Anytime,” he said softly. “Same time next week?”

“Definitely,” you replied, smiling at him. “And maybe we can talk more about photography, too.”

Cregan’s smile returned, shy but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café together, the evening air cool and refreshing, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Cregan. It was subtle, a quiet deepening of the connection you shared, but it was there, undeniable and strong.

You parted ways after Cregan insisted on walking you home and you refused, he opted for telling you to text him when you were at your door. His cheeks burnt red when he read the screen, with your newly added number and a ‘home ;)’text.

Cregan's phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt, wondering if it was another message from you. But as he looked at the screen, his expression darkened. It was a news alert: a robbery in progress just a few blocks away.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to hold onto the warmth of the afternoon for just a little longer. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. With a sigh, Cregan ducked into a nearby alley, quickly changing into the suit he always kept with him.

As he swung through the city, the cool night air whipping past him, Cregan couldn't help but think about you. About the way your eyes had lit up when he explained a particularly tricky concept, about the soft brush of your fingers against his as you reached for your coffee cup. He thought about the promise of next week, of more conversations about photography and life and all the things that made you both who you were.

The robbery was dealt with quickly – a couple of petty thieves who were more surprised to see Spider-Man than they were prepared to fight him. As Cregan webbed them up for the police, he found himself wondering what you would think if you could see him now. Would you be impressed? Scared? Would it change the way you looked at him?

By the time Cregan made it back to his apartment, it was late. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his suit, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in his muscles. But as he closed his eyes, it wasn't the faces of the criminals he'd caught that he saw. It was your smile, the way you'd leaned in close as he explained a problem, the warmth in your voice when you'd said goodbye.

His phone buzzed one more time, and Cregan reached for it, his heart racing. It was you.

‘thanks again for today. you really are my hero when it comes to biochem.’

Then another.

‘see you in class!’

Cregan read the message several times, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He wanted to say so much – about how much he'd enjoyed spending time with you, how he was already looking forward to next week, how beautiful you looked, how you made him feel like just Cregan, not Spider-Man or anyone else.

In the end, he settled for something simple: ‘Anytime. I had a great time too. Can't wait for next week.’

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Balancing his life as Cregan Stark with his duties as Spider-Man was already a constant struggle. Adding a potential relationship to the mix would only complicate things further. But as he remembered the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had met his across the coffee shop table, Cregan found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, patrols, and stolen glances across lecture halls. Every time Cregan saw you, his heart would do a little flip in his chest. Sometimes you'd catch his eye and smile, a small, secret gesture that felt like it was just for him. Other times, you'd be deep in conversation with friends or buried in a textbook, and Cregan would find himself watching you from afar, marveling at the way you moved through the world.

In class, Cregan found himself hyper-aware of your presence. He'd catch himself stealing glances at you, watching the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking hard about a problem, or the way you'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you leaned over your notes. More than once, he nearly missed a question from the professor, too distracted by the simple fact of your nearness.

But it wasn't just in class that you occupied his thoughts. As Spider-Man, swinging through the city at night, Cregan found himself taking routes that would bring him past your apartment building. He told himself it was just to make sure you were safe, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a way of feeling close to you, even when he couldn't be Cregan Stark.

As Cregan swung away into the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. He couldn't keep living these two separate lives, couldn't keep holding you at arm's length while simultaneously yearning to be closer. But what was the alternative? To tell you the truth and risk everything? To walk away and protect you from the dangers that came with being close to Spider-Man?

He didn't have the answers. But as he made his way back to his own apartment, Cregan knew one thing for certain: he was in deeper than he'd ever intended to be, and there was no easy way out.

_________

As the days passed, you found yourself drawn more and more into Cregan Stark's orbit. What had started as simple tutoring sessions began to evolve into something more. You'd catch yourself looking for him in the crowded hallways between classes, your heart skipping a beat when you'd spot that familiar mop of brown hair. 

During your tutoring sessions, you started to linger longer, engaging Cregan in conversations that went far beyond the subject matter at hand. You discovered a shared love of obscure sci-fi movies, and soon found yourself suggesting meetups outside of your usual study time. When you had first asked him to come over to watch a movie, trying to keep your voice casual even as your pulse quickened, Cregan felt like his chest was about to explode.

Cregan seemed both delighted and nervous at these invitations, always accepting with an endearing mix of enthusiasm and awkwardness. You couldn't help but find his slightly fumbling manner charming, so different from the easy confidence you saw in many of your classmates.

But it wasn't just Cregan Stark who was occupying your thoughts. Your encounters with Spider-Man had been increasing in frequency as well. It started innocuously enough - you'd be walking home late from the library and suddenly he'd be there, offering to make sure you got home safely. Or you'd be grabbing a quick bite at a food truck, and he'd swing by, pausing just long enough for a quip and a smile that made your stomach flutter.

These brief encounters slowly became more frequent, more prolonged. Sometimes he'd perch on a nearby rooftop, and you'd find yourself talking for hours, sharing your hopes, your fears, your dreams. There was something freeing about talking to someone whose face you couldn't fully see, whose identity remained a mystery. You found yourself opening up to Spider-Man in ways you never had with anyone else.

As your connection with both Cregan and Spider-Man deepened, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something you were missing, some connection you weren't quite grasping. 

The day had been long, stretched out with a kind of silence that felt unnatural. Usually, Cregan would find some way to pop up – whether it was a quick text about a class assignment or a casual joke that made you smile. But the past three days, there was nothing. The hours ticked by, and with each passing minute, a sense of unease settled in your chest.

You missed Cregan, he’d become a constant presence in your life.

The evening of the third day rolled in, you tried to distract yourself with a book, but the words blurred together, your mind too bored and restless to focus. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for a message, some sign of Cregan.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across your apartment. You stood by the window, watching the city come to life with its usual rhythm – the distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a car horn, the murmur of voices drifting up from the street below. But something felt off, a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were just about to turn away from the window, resigning yourself to another hour of waiting, when a sudden noise broke through the quiet. A thud. Heavy and sharp, it resonated through the walls and made you jump.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun toward the sound. It had come from the fire escape just outside your window, the metal groaning slightly under the weight of something – or someone.

With a shaky breath, you approached the window, your hand trembling as you reached for the latch. You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Then, slowly, you pushed the window open, the cool evening air rushing in.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

But not the agile, confident hero you’d seen swinging through the city’s skyline. This Spider-Man was slumped against the railing of your fire escape, his red and blue suit torn and stained with dirt and blood. He was breathing heavily, each breath a ragged gasp, his masked head tilted down as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and fear. 

He didn’t respond at first, his head still bowed, but you could see his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. Panic surged through you as you realized just how badly he was hurt. Without thinking, you climbed out onto the fire escape, the metal cool beneath your hands as you knelt beside him.

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, reaching out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

At your touch, he flinched, his head snapping up. For a moment, you saw the white lenses of his mask narrow, as if he was trying to focus on you through a haze of pain. Then, with a weak, shaky movement, he lifted a gloved hand to his mask, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw it – Cregan’s familiar jawline, his lips cracked and dry, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, were glazed with exhaustion and pain.

“Cregan,” you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Fear and worry tangled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could barely recognize the boy who’d sat beside you in the library just a few weeks before, explaining enzyme kinetics with a shy smile. Now, he looked so vulnerable, so fragile, it was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost too quiet to hear. His attempt at a smile faltered, his lips trembling. “Sorry... didn’t mean to drop in unannounced.”

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Cregan, what happened? You’re hurt – Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He winced as he tried to shift, his hand tightening on the railing. “Just... ran into some trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just... just need a minute.”

But it was clear that he needed more than just a minute. His skin was pale beneath the grime, and when he tried to move again, his body sagged against the railing, his strength all but gone.

“Cregan, you need help,” you said, your voice urgent as you scanned his injuries, not knowing where to start. You could see the gash on his side, the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric of his suit. “You can’t stay out here – come inside, please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of pain seemed to wash over him, cutting off his words. You didn’t wait for him to argue. With gentle hands, you slipped your arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to support his weight.

“Come on,” you urged softly, “I’ve got you.”

With a groan, Cregan let you help him to his feet, his body heavy and unsteady against yours. Together, you managed to maneuver him through the window and into your apartment, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

You guided him to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions with as much care as you could manage. He slumped back, his head lolling to the side as he tried to stay conscious. You could see the strain in his face, the way his eyes fluttered open and shut as he fought against the overwhelming exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get some supplies,” you whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Cregan’s hand caught yours as you started to pull away, his grip weak but desperate. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes met yours, filled with a depth of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You squeezed his hand gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to gather what you needed – first aid kit, towels, anything that might help – you couldn’t shake the image of Cregan lying there, hurt and vulnerable. This was the same boy who’d laughed with you over coffee, who’d explained complex science with an ease that belied his own brilliance. The same boy who now sat on your couch, barely holding on.

When you returned, Cregan’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but steady. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you began to clean his wounds, doing your best to be gentle. Each time he flinched or winced, your heart clenched, wishing you could take the pain away, even if just a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you worked. 

Cregan didn’t answer right away, his lips pressed together as you dabbed at the cut on his side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice rough and tired. “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you paused, meeting his gaze. “Cregan,”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, thick with emotion. Cregan’s eyes softened, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart ached for him, and without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. “You’re not dragging me into anything, Cregan. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if trying to draw strength from your presence. For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in a web of trust and unspoken feelings, holding on to each other in the quiet safety of your small apartment.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into your touch, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain etched into his features. 

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” he murmured, his voice soft but with a familiar hint of playfulness. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this whole… accelerated healing thing going on. Perks of the job.”

You tried to smile back, but the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know, but that doesn’t make seeing you like this any easier.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Cregan’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, don’t I always bounce back?” he said, trying to inject some of that Spider-Man charm into his voice, though it came out weaker than usual.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured at your silence, his voice a rough whisper, as if he was trying to convince both of you. “I... I heal fast. It just takes some time.”

You frowned, your hand still cradling his face as you studied the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. “Fast or not, you’re hurt, Cregan. Let me help.”

He managed a small, weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was full of appreciation. “You’re already helping.”

You started with the worst of his injuries, cleaning the gash on his side with careful, deliberate movements. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and tried to relax, his eyes fixed on your face as if drawing strength from your presence.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could be so kind, so caring, even after seeing him like this. The world knew Spider-Man as a hero, invincible and strong, but here he was, laid bare and vulnerable, and yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Instead, you stayed, your hands steady as you patched him up, your heart open and unafraid.

Once you’d finished with the worst of the injuries, you turned your attention to the smaller cuts and bruises, dabbing at the dried blood on his cheek, his neck, his hands. The silence between you was comfortable now, filled with the quiet rustle of bandages and the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Cregan’s eyes drifted shut as you worked, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing gently over a bruise on his temple. “You don’t have to apologize, Cregan. I’m just glad you came here, that you trusted me.”

His eyes opened again, and this time, there was a softness in them that made your heart ache. “Of course, I trust you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. Didn’t want you to think...”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. But you understood what he was trying to say, the fear that had been gnawing at him, the worry that you might see him differently now that you knew the truth.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, your hand still resting on his cheek. 

He closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, the way his body sagged against the cushions, his strength nearly spent.

“Get some rest,” you urged softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe.”

Cregan nodded, his breathing evening out as he let the exhaustion take over. His hand found yours, his grip weak but steady, and he held on as if afraid to let go.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the tension in Cregan’s body began to ease, his breathing becoming slower, deeper. The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. You stayed beside him, your hand still holding his, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, trying to also calm yourself down.

Then, just as you thought he’d fallen asleep, Cregan’s voice broke the quiet, a soft murmur that tugged at your heart. “I missed you these last few days,” he whispered, his eyes still closed, as if the words were pulled from him in a moment of vulnerability.

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, filled with all the things you hadn’t been able to say. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been waiting for this moment, for the chance to be close to him again, until now.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. There was something raw in his gaze, a mix of relief and longing that you hadn’t seen before, something that made the air between you crackle with unspoken emotion.

“I kept thinking about you,” he continued, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung in the air. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made it impossible to ignore, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts marring his face.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and dry from days of struggle, curled into a weak but genuine smile. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion but alive with a mix of mischief and longing, met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, “since you’re already being so kind and caring, maybe… just maybe… a kiss for the wounded hero?” He tried to make light of his condition, the playful tone in his voice belying the pain he was in.

Your lips twitched into a small, incredulous smile despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You could see the effort it took for him to joke, the way he was clinging to his usual charm even when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I suppose I could,” you said, leaning closer, “if you’re sure it won’t make you faint from excitement.”

Cregan’s laughter was a soft, pained exhale, but it was there, and it was real. “I think I can handle it.”

With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment as you took in the rawness of his expression. He looked at you with such intensity that it felt as if he was seeing right into you, beyond the superficial and straight into the heart of what mattered.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you closed the distance. His lips were warm and dry against yours, and the kiss was gentle, almost tentative. 

Cregan’s lips, cracked and trembling from his injuries, felt delicate beneath yours. Despite his pain, there was a surprising gentleness in his kiss, a fragile vulnerability that made you want to hold him closer. The contact was brief, a fleeting brush of warmth and tenderness, but it was charged with unspoken emotions – fear, hope, and the deep relief of finally being close again.

When you pulled back, you barely heard Cregan’s joke about ordering some good pizza, too focused on his cheeky smile and the few strands of hair that had fallen back to his face. 

[edenesth]

Blossoming Alliances

Pairing: prince!Yunho x princess!reader

AU: arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10.9k

Summary: As a means to bring peace between two kingdoms, Prince Yunho of Wonderland is forced into an arranged marriage with the Princess of Aurora. Firmly against the idea of being bound to a complete stranger, the prince makes things more difficult than it has to be. What happens when he finds himself falling for the princess that he so strongly refuses to marry?

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"I don't care what the king and queen have planned for me, I'm not-"

Yunho's protest abruptly halted as he skidded to a stop, the air seemingly knocked out of his lungs and his words stuck in his throat. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his gaze ensnared by an ethereal sight.

Following closely behind him, Yeosang, the prince's trusted advisor and personal assistant, muttered a quiet curse as he narrowly avoided colliding with the taller man's back.

The prince's eyes widened in awe as he beheld the graceful figure of the individual meant to be his future princess, strolling amidst a sea of blooming flowers.

The delicate hues of the petals seemed to pale in comparison to her radiant presence, she had the beauty parallel to that of a Greek goddess. With every step she took, her flowing gown mirrored the elegance of her movement and a gentle breeze played with the tendrils of her hair, adding to the aura of enchantment.

The instant Yunho laid eyes on the princess he was bound to marry, all previous arguments and objections he had harboured about the arranged marriage faded into oblivion, vanished entirely from his thoughts.

His jaw hung slack and he struggled to find words. His feet remained firmly rooted to the ground as he stared, momentarily transformed into a foolish, unprincely observer.

"You were saying, your highness?" Yeosang inquired, his tone tinged with sarcasm, his brow arched.

"Is that… her? The p-princess?" Yunho stammered, his ability to speak suddenly elusive. His advisor nodded, regarding the prince with an amused glint in his eye, "Yes, your highness, that is her. Beautiful, isn't she? It seems the rumours about her divine beauty were entirely accurate."

Indeed, she is.

The prince's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, his heart beating faster than usual.

Her every gesture seemed to be poetry in motion, as though the garden itself had come alive to pay homage to her beauty. He felt a sense of time slowing down, his world narrowing to encompass only her in that moment. And as the princess turned to catch a glimpse of him, their eyes finally met.

Flustered, Yunho blinks his eyes rapidly and clears his throat loudly.

Stunned by the charming smile she had sent his way, he gives the princess a curt nod out of courtesy before looking away quickly, embarrassed.

It probably wasn't anything new to the princess for people to gape at her the way he did. But he wasn't just anyone, he was the crown prince of Wonderland, goddammit.

Ah great, I've just made a complete fool of myself.

Gone were all the words of his carefully planned and well-rehearsed speech he had spent all night to come up with, fully prepared to have a whole debate with his parents today about why they should not go through with the plan.

Sensing Yeosang's judgemental gaze on him, he scoffs before waving the shorter male off.

"W-whatever, beauty isn't going to be enough to keep a marriage strong. She could be spoiled and haughty for all we know, and the last thing I need is a wife that's all looks and no brains."

The advisor scoffs, "Sounds to me like an excuse, my prince. You seem to be convincing yourself more than anyone else. The princess should be anything but spoiled and haughty if she is already here ready to meet you."

Yunho glares down at his oldest friend in irritation, he sometimes wished Yeosang could be less rational because the advisor was annoyingly correct with his statement.

A part of the prince wanted the princess to be on her worst behaviour, that would give him a good reason to not comply but if she continues on with her good girl act and wins everyone's favour, that would make him seem like the bad guy.

Or perhaps, he was.

Why was he so against this again?

Right, because she's a complete stranger. And not just any stranger, she had to be one all the way from Aurora too.

That was why he came to seek an audience with his parents. They'd be kidding themselves if they thought he'd be backing down so easily without a fight.

With his sights set on the grand doors to the throne room, the prince reminds himself of why he's come to this part of the palace. He proceeds to march forward, determined to talk his way out of the marriage no matter how breathtaking he finds the princess to be.

Yes, the princess was insanely gorgeous.

That was an undeniable fact and Yunho would have to be blind to think otherwise.

However, he genuinely believed that beauty alone amounted to very little, especially in marriage. This union was a lifelong commitment.

This was no fairytale.

Whoever it was that Yunho married, he had to spend the rest of his life with, so his future wife would have to possess a lot more qualities than simply being easy on the eyes.

Pull yourself together, Jung Yunho. She's just another beautiful face and you've seen plenty of those.

You see, Crown Prince Yunho, heir to the throne of Wonderland, has found himself entangled in the intricate web of politics when his parents arrange a marriage with the princess of the neighbouring kingdom, Aurora. Tensions have simmered between the two nations for years, and this alliance is seen as a way to bring peace to the region.

But there was just one major problem, Yunho was vehemently opposed to the arranged marriage.

He resents the idea of being bound to a stranger, especially from a rival nation. His preconceived notions about the princess lead him to believe she's merely a pawn in her own right, just as he feels he is in this political game.

Unfortunately for him, the meeting with his parents had pretty much gone the exact way he wished it hadn't. As Yeosang had predicted, each of his arguments was met with compelling responses from his parents, rendering him momentarily speechless.

Yunho accuses the princess of being spoiled but with his continuous stubbornness and adamance, he was beginning to look the part himself.

While he voiced concerns about potential issues arising from this union, such as constraints on personal freedom, emotional distress, compatibility problems, and the inevitable cultural and societal pressures, his parents remained unfazed.

They had anticipated their son's dissatisfaction when they initially revealed the arrangement and had been prepared for his complaints.

"Yunho-yah," The queen began, her voice gentle yet firm, "We understand your concerns about the arranged marriage. But you must also understand the broader implications of our decision."

The king leaned forward, his expression serious, "Our kingdom stands at a crossroads, my son. The tensions between our nation and Aurora have lingered for far too long. The alliance formed through this marriage could finally bring about a lasting peace."

The prince's brow furrowed as he folded his arms, a mix of frustration and reluctance in his eyes, "But father, how can I marry someone I've never met? Someone from a land with which we've had conflicts?"

His mother's gaze softened, "Yunho, we're not asking you to abandon your feelings or desires. We're asking you to consider the greater good. The princess is in the same situation, and she's willing to put aside her own reservations for the sake of her people. It's a sacrifice for both of you."

And there it was, he must look like an absolute asshole all thanks to her obedience. Yeosang would definitely agree, even his advisor was supportive of the marriage. The prince seems to be the only one against this.

"We've always taught you to put the needs of the kingdom before personal wishes. This is one of those times when our actions will shape the course of history. Your cooperation can be a bridge towards a more peaceful future."

His father added, eyes trained firmly on his son.

He needed Yunho to understand that this matter was not up for negotiation, the only reason they were still entertaining his tantrums was to hopefully talk some sense into him. After all, his compliance would make a huge difference and things could be so much easier.

Yunho sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I understand the reasons, mother, father. But how can I be expected to share my life with someone I know nothing about?"

The queen leaned forward, her expression filled with empathy, "Arranged marriages are not what they used to be, Yunho. You'll have the opportunity to get to know the princess, to find common ground, and perhaps even build a genuine connection."

She was right but for some reason, Yunho's brain refuses to see things that way.

There had to be alternative methods to form an alliance; why did he need to sacrifice his choice to love? As a royal, he was only permitted one marriage and now one of the most momentous decisions of his life was about to be dictated by the future of his kingdom.

He would have said those words out loud had it not been for the look in his father's eyes, the king was growing tired of this pointless talk.

As the prince's gaze shifted between his parents, a mixture of uncertainty played across his face. He knew their words held weight, that his compliance could influence the fate of their kingdom. With a sigh, he uncrossed his arms and met their eyes.

He sensed that further argument was futile. The arrangement would proceed whether he liked it or not, "I hear you, father, mother," He finally said, his tone resigned, "I'll meet the princess and try to see the bigger picture."

And by that, what he actually meant was that he would be keeping busy, looking for loopholes to escape this predicament.

It was an exhausting journey getting from Aurora to Wonderland by carriage but you didn't voice your discomfort because you knew it must have been so much harder for your guards and servants.

It hasn't been easy on you, learning of the sudden need for you to wed the prince of another nation. It had to be Wonderland too, of all kingdoms, the specific one that hadn't been on particularly good terms with Aurora for as long as you could remember.

The truth was that you had been prepared for this all your life.

Since childhood, your mother had instilled in you the belief that your primary duty, as a princess, was to marry for political reasons someday. As much as you had dreaded it, you had always known that this day would arrive sooner or later.

What truly caught you off guard, however, was the fact that you were arranged to marry the future king of Wonderland, not Utopia. This was partly because you had always assumed you'd marry Prince San of Utopia, a kingdom with strong ties to your parents.

You and San had practically grown up side by side, he was a good friend of yours and you wouldn't have minded spending your life with him. He was easily one of the most gentle and caring men you've met, he would have made a fine husband.

While you didn't harbour any personal grievances against Prince Yunho or Wonderland, you had heard of his discontent with the arrangement, which naturally left you feeling disheartened.

It wasn't like you were ecstatic about this either but you understood that it was an integral part of your role as a royal, no?

Due to the prince's resistance, his parents had requested your arrival a bit earlier than initially planned, hoping to give him time to warm up to you before both kingdoms made the official announcement regarding your alliance to the public.

Fortunately for you, the king and queen of Wonderland had warmly received you upon your arrival and offered a brief tour of the palace's central court. They made every effort to make you feel welcome before escorting you to your chambers.

Unfortunately for you, the prince was nowhere to be seen. You couldn't help but have mixed feelings about his nonattendance, especially since he was the primary reason for and the most significant aspect of your visit.

But you supposed that may have been too much to ask of him, given his well-known opposition to this marriage.

Here you were, finally settling into the grand bed chambers designated for you. You sat in contemplative silence by the ornate vanity while your handmaiden, Yeri, attentively touched up your appearance.

"What is the matter, my princess? Are you feeling okay?"

Once she was done brushing your hair, you moved to pat her hand appreciatively, "I'm fine, Yeri, really. Just... trying to adapt to the new environment. It's quite different here compared to home, isn't it?"

"If you're trying to say it's more depressing here, then yes, I agree with you," You laughed quietly, attempting to hush her with an alarmed expression, "Oh my god, keep it down, you fearless woman! If anyone hears you, we're dead," She snickers, nodding quickly, "Yes, yes, your highness. I was just playing with you, at least it finally got you to smile again."

Scrunching your face up at her playfully, your heart warmed at how sweet it was of her to ensure you were alright.

"You're the best, Yeri. I really can't do this without you, so please be on your best behaviour," You shook your head when she grinned cheekily, "Now where's the fun in that?" She lifted her hands to surrender when you glared at her, unamused, "Okay, okay, sheesh."

"Go and get some rest, Yeri. You must be tired, tell the rest to join you too. I'll send Mingi for you if I need anything," She stood with her hands on her hips and let out a huff, "I know you won't, you're too kind for your own good. If I catch you trying to do anything by yourself, I'm never leaving your side again."

Before you could offer any protest, she gestured across her lips, mimicking a zipper, "I won't say this again, my princess. Let the servants do their jobs. We're not in Aurora anymore, you can't let these foreigners think you're weak or easy, do you understand?"

She was right, you hadn't thought of that at all.

Back at home, you had treated all the royal staff like friends and often chose to handle tasks yourself to avoid inconveniencing them, even when it was their responsibility. But you were no longer in Aurora, and your actions in Wonderland could potentially be mistaken as weakness or gullibility.

Yeri did not leave you until she made you pinky promise her.

You softened, hugging her before she went to catch up on some much-needed rest. Thanks to your cheerful and friendly disposition, all members of your staff have developed a deep fondness for you. Yeri, in particular, always had your best interests at heart.

Deciding it was probably best to familiarise yourself with the layout of the palace, you began wandering around with your personal guard, Mingi, following closely behind. You would have sent him to his chambers too, had he not frowned warningly at you.

He didn't have to say the words out loud, all it took was one look for you to understand his 'don't you even dare' loud and clear.

Thankful for and comforted by Mingi's tall frame towering over yours protectively from behind, you took your time sauntering about. You noted the difference between the interior at home and here; while the colours back at home were brighter, most of the decor in Wonderland leaned towards the darker side.

Your lips curved upward when you happened upon the royal garden just outside. The garden held a special place in your heart; it was your sanctuary in Aurora. There, you'd lose yourself in books, indulge in painting or simply unwind on days when you have no princess etiquette lessons.

Bounding toward it with excitement, you instructed Mingi to wait for you by the garden gates while you took a stroll by yourself. Lost in your own world, your attention had been fully captured by the new flowers you hadn't seen back in Aurora.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain pair of eyes had remained trained on your frame for quite some time now.

It was only when you finally sensed this invisible gaze that you turned and found yourself locking eyes with a strikingly tall and handsome man. As was your instinctual reaction, you greeted him with a warm smile, even if you didn't know who he was.

You resisted the urge to giggle at his expression which was similar to that of a deer caught in headlights as he nodded once politely at you before turning away almost instantly.

But before you could watch on any longer, Mingi had come to escort you back to your chambers. Exploration time was over, you had to get ready for dinner with the king and queen soon.

And all the way back, you couldn't get your mind off the man you had seen earlier.

That tall and handsome man, you later learned, was your future husband, Crown Prince Yunho of Wonderland.

On your second day here, you had the pleasure of sharing a light meal with him. Perhaps it was your jitters or perhaps it was the knowledge of his displeasure with the arrangement, you half-expected him to be rude or mean.

To your complete surprise, he had been more civil and polite than you had imagined. However, it was quite apparent to you that he had made a constant effort to keep you at arm's length.

Even after a week of your presence in the palace, he remained equally reserved.

As suggested by his parents, you have been sharing meals together more often in order to get to know one another better. Weirdly though, the questions exchanged between you two during conversations remained surface level and he refused to dive any deeper beyond simple pleasantries.

It was almost impossible to get close to him.

In a way, it was frustrating. You couldn't quite put your finger on it but you almost wished he would express his displeasure or frustration openly. His aloof behaviour, on the other hand, made you feel unimportant and irrelevant.

Gazing miserably up at the stars littered across the night sky by your balcony, you don't notice Yeri coming up to you until you feel her wrap a shawl over your exposed shoulders.

"You alright, your highness? Mingi mentioned you looking particularly upset these days. I thought things were going well with the prince?"

You sighed, pursing your lips, "I don't know, Yeri. I suppose that's how it looks to others from the outside but..." Your heart clenched, and you wondered to yourself if this was how life was going to be like married to Yunho.

"Even when he's right in front of me, he still feels so far away," Laughing humourlessly to yourself, you rubbed your hands tiredly over your eyes, "Does that even make any sense?"

Yeri runs her hands comfortingly up and down your arms, "Wow, so he's going to be that kind of husband, huh. I'm so sorry, your highness. You, of all people, don't deserve this kind of treatment, especially from the man who is supposed to be your husband."

You shook your head to ease her worries, "I'll be fine. Maybe he'll warm up to me eventually, hm? Just the way you did," She smiled half-heartedly at you, "Gee, for your sake, I sure hope so."

While you were caught up in your own feelings of despair, Yunho dedicated the majority of his time to the library, fervently seeking an alternative method for forming the alliance, anything except marriage. He refused to believe that this was the only way to do so, even when Yeosang had told him countless times that his efforts would be fruitless.

As his advisor had reiterated over and over, even if he did find another way, nothing could be stronger than an alliance formed through marriage. But Yunho would like to argue that his adamance might be stronger, though he knows he would be shot down mercilessly by his friend with actual logic.

In frustration, he slammed yet another book shut, running his hand through his hair and groaning loudly without bothering to keep his voice down. Nobody in the library would dare ask him to quiet down anyway, he was the crown prince of the nation.

Come on, there has to be another way.

Without wasting another moment, he moved on to the next book. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. Every passing day brought him closer to the solidifying of this arrangement.

Despite his lack of success in finding a solution, he was rather pleased with how he had handled you. As he had expected, you appeared to be nothing more than a pawn, sent here to be manipulated by your parents.

In the few conversations he had with you, you seemed somewhat one-dimensional, repeatedly expressing your contentment with fulfilling your duties as a princess for the betterment of your kingdom. No doubt just reciting words handed to you in a carefully crafted script, you appeared to lack personality whatsoever.

Yunho knew he was right about you from the beginning, you were all looks and not much else.

Or so he thought.

The prince had been quick to judge without bothering to get to know you any better. He couldn't have possibly been able to get a feel of your character when he continuously kept you at a distance.

It wasn't until he was forced to spend time with you as you navigate several formal events and ceremonies meant to showcase your unity, that he began to see you in a new light. You were not the stoic and passive figure he had imagined.

You revealed yourself to be an incredibly articulate and knowledgeable speaker, both on and off the stage. From delivering formal speeches to engaging in discussions with important figures of Wonderland, he was thoroughly impressed by your depth of knowledge and your ability to hold conversations on topics that sometimes even challenged him as the crown prince.

Not only that, he later saw how intelligent and compassionate you truly were but most importantly, how you shared his concerns about the forced arrangement.

It was within the confines of the royal garden that you and Yunho engaged in a heartfelt conversation, away from any prying eyes.

Your sigh was soft, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon, "Thanks for agreeing to see me, Yunho. There's something I feel I must address, I cannot go on like this for much longer." Concern filled the prince's eyes when he detected the exhaustion in your tone.

"You know, I'm not an idiot. I know what you've been doing this whole time, trying to keep me at a distance. I'm well aware of your feelings about this arrangement."

Yunho hung his head in shame, realising that he had underestimated you, believing you wouldn't see through his actions.

"I just... I need you to understand that it hasn't exactly been easy for me either. I'm not a fan of all this, to be quite honest with you. You don't think I want to marry for love too? At this point, I've just accepted that it would be a dream never to come true. Life as royalty comes with sacrifices and this is only one of many, Yunho."

The prince turns to face you, his voice was sincere, "Gosh, I honestly didn't know. All this while, I've thought only about myself. I... I'm sorry for the way I've acted, princess. I have no excuses for that."

Well, that was a surprise.

You didn't think you'd hear him apologise to you. So sincerely too.

"Thank you for the apology, it means a lot," He nodded but seemed like there was more he wanted to say, "Yunho, is there something else you wish to say?"

The prince hesitates, "It's just... You sounded like you're being weighed down by a lot. I know our kingdoms haven't been on the best of terms but, is everything okay in Aurora?"

You took a moment before meeting his eyes, your gaze holding a blend of determination and vulnerability, "My kingdom, Aurora, it's... it's in a delicate state. The tensions between our kingdom and Wonderland have taken a toll on our people. There have been losses, conflicts that have stretched on for too long."

Yunho nodded slowly, empathy evident in his features, "I know that our kingdoms have had their differences. But you've chosen to embrace this alliance, despite the challenges it presents."

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued, "I've seen the suffering, Yunho. I've seen families torn apart by the feuds between our lands. I've felt the weight of the responsibility that rests on my shoulders. This marriage, as much as I've also hated the concept, offers a chance for healing. It's a way to bring peace to our people, to ensure a better future."

Yunho studied you, his admiration growing with every word you spoke, "Princess, I think that your willingness to prioritise your people's well-being over personal desires is truly commendable."

A faint smile touched your lips, "Thank you, I've wrestled with it and struggled against the confines of tradition. But I've come to realise that sometimes, as leaders, we must put aside our own wishes for the greater good."

That's just great, the prince has never felt more ashamed of himself. He must seem like a brat compared to you, he now fully understands why you were so loved by the people around you.

If only he had opened his eyes to this side of you sooner. There was no one to blame for this but himself, he was filled with immense guilt and regrets for the way he had treated you before.

He reached out hesitantly before gently placing a hand on yours, "Your strength and dedication are inspiring, princess. To choose the path that challenges your heart for the sake of your people speaks volumes about your character. I'm sorry for misjudging you before."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of your shared responsibilities seemed to lessen, "Let bygones be bygones, Yunho. I hope that even if we cannot feel love for one another, you'll still be able to find a friend in me."

Yunho squeezed your hand gently, "Likewise, I hope you'll be able to do the same with me."

As you spend more time together, Yunho witnesses your genuine commitment to bridging the gap between your nations.

He discovers your efforts to learn about Wonderland's culture and language, your sincere desire to foster understanding and your determination to defy your own family's pressure for the sake of your people.

One day in the library, he stumbled upon you buried under piles of history books, dictionaries and many more Wonderland-related materials. He was surprised to learn from the royal librarian that you had been visiting frequently for the past few days.

Seeing you so engrossed in your studies, he decided not to distract you and instead settled at the table across from yours. He occasionally stole glances at you while he went about his own tasks.

You didn't notice the prince's presence until hours later when you finished one book. Stretching your limbs, you let out an unintentional moan before finally looking up, only to find Yunho staring at you, clearly amused.

A loud yelp escaped your lips ungracefully upon seeing him, and the librarian shot you a warning glare while you repeatedly bowed your head apologetically.

You hid your face in your palms, overcome with embarrassment, as the prince snickered cheekily. Now that he had your attention, he moved to your table and sat down in front of you.

"That surprised to see me, princess? I can't believe you didn't notice me at all, I've been here for hours."

Your jaw dropped, "Really? Gosh, I didn't realise."

He didn't dare say it out loud but Yunho found you so incredibly adorable in that moment, his heart skipping a beat at your natural and genuine reactions. He felt so privileged to have been able to see this candid side of you, it was so fresh and unlike the whole princess facade that you were always forced to put on in front of others.

After he ordered a nearby servant to prepare you both some light snacks and tea, you engaged in a relaxed conversation.

"Now we all know why I'm here but what are you doing here, Yunho? Shouldn't you be kept busy fulfilling your princely duties?" He sighs, pulling out the books he's been frantically looking through to show you. You furrowed your brows at the sheer amount of materials related to strategic alliances, historical governing regulations and such, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

There was a brief pause when the servant returned with the snacks Yunho had requested. He waited until you were alone before he continued.

"To be completely honest, from the moment you arrived here, I've been searching for ways for Wonderland and Aurora to form an alliance without marriage. Initially, it was for my personal reasons, but after speaking with you and realising how much you disliked this arrangement, I knew I had to keep looking—for both our sakes."

You stared at him, astonished, "You're saying that you're doing this for me too?"

He nods, "Yes, especially after hearing you speak of the struggles of your people, I knew then that this alliance must be formed for the greater good. But you also spoke so bitterly about not being able to marry for love, it pained me to hear you say that it would only be a dream never to come true."

The sincerity in his tone was enough to touch your heart, you hadn't expected him to take your words this seriously.

"So, I figured we must find another way to go about this, in order to secure peace between our kingdoms as well as our right to marry someone of our own choice."

As grateful as you were for his efforts, you didn't want to cling to false hope, as the ideal outcome he aimed for seemed far-fetched. Seeing him conduct this research alone, you could tell that his advisor likely considered it impossible and had given up trying to reason with the prince.

You smiled appreciatively at him, patting a hand gently over his.

"That's very sweet of you, Yunho, to be so considerate, from worrying about the state of my nation to my happiness. You have no idea how much this all means to me. But you do understand that it's a scenario highly unlikely to come to fruition, yes?"

Guilt washed over you when you saw his face slightly fall due to your words.

"Yeah, I'm aware, but I won't give up. We'll never truly know if we don't try, am I right?" To lift the mood and avoid making you feel bad, he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, not missing the way his heart skipped a beat when you let out a small giggle.

This has been happening way too frequently lately.

But Yunho reassured himself that he was just happy to have made a new friend, nothing more and nothing less.

He continued to tell himself that, even when all he could think about was your beautiful smile and cute laugh, feeling determined to do whatever it took to keep that smile on your face.

Despite his initial resistance, Yunho and the princess slowly begin to discover common ground. You find yourselves sharing your hopes, fears and dreams, gradually forming a connection that transcends your initial animosity.

"You sure seem a lot happier these days, I assume things are going well with the princess?"

Yeosang wonders out loud, spotting that dreamy look on the prince's face again, he's been seeing it more often lately.

He hoped this change in demeanour indicated Yunho's willingness to comply, as he was growing weary of the prince's stubbornness. The advisor feels he was about to age another ten years if he had to deal with any more of that.

However, to Yeosang's dismay, Yunho's response was not what he wanted to hear, "If by things going well, you mean us finally becoming friends, then yes. But I'm telling you, I haven't given up trying to find that loophole."

The advisor could feel his blood pressure rising; he knew the king would not be pleased with this response. Unbeknownst to Yunho, his parents had instructed Yeosang to provide daily progress reports on his relationship with the princess.

Yeosang had hoped that the improved rapport between the prince and the princess would finally allow him to deliver some positive news to the king and queen. These reports were also shared with the princess' parents in Aurora, as both sets of parents eagerly awaited the day when Yunho would agree to the arranged marriage.

As much as they were rulers of their kingdoms, they were also parents to their children.

While your parents bore the weighty responsibility for the welfare of your kingdom and its people, they fervently hoped to spare you from an utterly loveless marriage that could subject you to potential mistreatment from an apathetic spouse.

Their genuine desire rested on the Prince of Wonderland's acceptance of you, with the hope that affection would develop over time, all while forging a harmonious bond between your respective realms. You were, after all, their only daughter and they weren't entirely heartless.

Beneath their regal exteriors was compassion for you.

If worse comes to worst, they were prepared to alter their strategies and seek a more suitable match for you.

The truth was that you were originally pledged to wed Prince San of Utopia, a strategic move aimed at bolstering the economy, consolidating authority and expanding your territorial holdings. If it weren't for the impending conflict between Wonderland and Aurora, your union with San might have already taken place.

Back then, your parents deemed it less advantageous for Aurora to merely grow stronger through an alliance with Utopia, knowing that it would eventually still culminate in a costly war with Wonderland. It was during this pivotal moment that their priorities shifted, with the king and queen of Aurora deciding that averting war held more importance.

Yet, if Prince Yunho of Wonderland remained obstinate in his refusal to cooperate, they were prepared to consider risking war if it meant securing a more promising marriage prospect for their daughter.

With Utopia's support, Aurora could potentially secure victory against Wonderland without undue hardship.

This, ultimately, constituted your parents' contingency plan.

Though they hoped it would never have to come down to that.

As time passes, Yunho and you can no longer deny the growing attraction between you.

You secretly spend more time together, leading to many heartfelt conversations and shared experiences that further strengthen the bond between you.

Neither of you had been entirely sure of your feelings for each other until one particular evening when you decided to sneak out to town.

Yunho was determined to show you how vibrant and exciting life could be in Wonderland, especially after you had been making endless jokes about his kingdom being gloomy and depressing.

Dressed in the simplest clothing he could find in his wardrobe, he patiently awaited your arrival by the secret passage leading to the town. Yunho had discovered this hidden path during his teenage years, with the assistance of a younger and more rebellious Yeosang.

Embarrassingly enough, he found himself momentarily frozen when he first saw you in casual attire.

You had to bring him back to reality by waving your hands in front of his face, grinning when you noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

For Yunho, it was incredibly difficult to take his eyes off you that night. His natural protectiveness over you had been triggered by the absence of your guard, Mingi. To his dismay, he wasn't the only one who had his eyes on you. Your beauty was just a natural magnet to all beings around you, attracting looks from almost everyone passing by.

Even in a simple cream-coloured gown, likely borrowed from one of your maids, Yunho couldn't help but wonder how you managed to radiate such elegance and charm.

However, Yunho was oblivious to the fact that you were equally captivated by his appearance. It was your first time seeing him dressed so casually and you were awestruck by how attractive he looked. You couldn't help but wonder if he was aware of the effect he had.

As you strolled through the night market, side by side, there had been many heart-fluttering moments between you all throughout the night.

Upon your arrival, you stumbled upon a street performer whose humorous antics made you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. You later dared each other to try exotic street foods like spicy skewers and strange-looking desserts. Watching each other's reactions as you savoured these new flavours brought moments of playful intimacy.

A street musician catches your attention when he suddenly begins playing a sweet, melodic tune on his guitar. Yunho, with a smile, pulled you into a spontaneous dance under the moonlight, leaving your heart racing. It felt different from all the times you'd danced together during the many formal events and ceremonies.

With your arms circled around his neck and his hand firmly on your waist, he pulls you impossibly close. Your heart pounds twice as fast as your trembling eyes meet his in a deep gaze, you wonder if he felt what you felt too.

But it wasn't until his gaze fell upon your lips that your breath hitched. His eyes were unreadable, he seemed to have a million thoughts going through his mind before he looked back into your eyes, smiling assuringly at you.

Feeling flustered, you nestled your head against the space between his neck and shoulder, seeking refuge from his intense gaze. Yunho's heart melted and he gently rested his cheek against the side of your head.

Deep beneath your hearts, you'd both wished for time to remain frozen and for this moment to last forever.

Neither you nor Yunho bothered to correct the musician when he called you a lovely pair of newlyweds. Instead, you both exchanged shy smiles with each other before gracefully sauntering away.

As the night went on, you found yourselves at a candle-lit vendor stall, choosing handcrafted candles together. The vendor's stories about the meaning behind each candle's design further deepened your connection.

Next, you stumbled upon an antique shop tucked away in a corner. As you explored the treasures within, you exchanged stories of your past, revealing vulnerable moments and secrets, which drew you closer.

Nearing the end of your tour, you found a secluded bench to rest before returning to the palace. The night sky above was clear and you both paused to gaze at the stars. The moment felt magical, it was almost as if the universe itself was conspiring to bring you together.

"So, is Wonderland still as 'gloomy and depressing' as you'd previously described it to be?" The prince questioned cheekily, making dramatic air quotes as you laughed, "Fine, guess I was wrong about that. It's pretty amazing, I suppose."

It was getting late and Yunho knew he had to take you back soon, no matter how reluctant he was to do so.

In an attempt to prolong your little date by a bit more, he offered to buy you a pack of those candied fruits he recalled you saying you liked to enjoy together before leaving.

"Wait for me, I'll be back real quick."

You watched endearingly as the prince squeezed his way through the crowd to get to the dessert stall where you'd stopped by earlier. This Yunho was so different from the one you had first met, he was making it hard for you not to catch any feelings.

Lost in your own thoughts, you failed to notice a drunkard approaching you from a dimly lit nearby alley.

Startled, you emitted a gasp of surprise as he harshly gripped your arm and abruptly yanked you from your seat, "Wait a moment, I know you. Aren't you that darn princess from Aurora?" His words struck you like a thunderclap, and his narrowing eyes bore into you ominously.

How could he have possibly recognised me?

"S-sir, I think you've been mistaken. I'm no princess, just a commoner like you," You couldn't help but recoil at the sight of his discoloured teeth as he clenched them menacingly, "Don't you dare deceive me, girl! Your accent betrays you; I know you're not from around here!"

With wide, frightened eyes, you struggled desperately to free yourself from his rough grasp, which was sure to leave a bruise on your wrists, "N-no, please!"

There were no words to capture the terror coursing through you as he attempted to drag you into the alley from which he had emerged, "You'll pay for what your people have done to me! Thanks to you Aurora scum, I've lost my family!"

You looked around frantically in search of Yunho, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you cried out his name desperately for help.

"Shut up, bitch. How dare you taint the name of my prince with that filthy mouth of yours." The man growls, your heart stopping as he bends down to pick up a shard of shattered beer glass from the ground.

Just as he swung the shard toward you, a tall figure leapt between you and the man, wrapping you tightly in his arms and instantly turning you away to shield you from the attack. He took the blow on your behalf, a sizable gash now marring his back.

The drunkard froze in place, realising the injury he had inflicted upon his own prince, "Oh, my prince! I had not intended to harm you; it was meant for her-"

Turning his head to direct a scathing glare at the man, Yunho sneered, "How audacious of you to attempt an assault on royalty. Do you realise that she is to become your future princess?" The man fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness, "Leave my sight at once. You will not escape so lightly should you ever attempt such a thing again."

Yunho shifted his focus back to you once the drunkard had hastily departed, looking you over for any signs of injury.

Once assured of your well-being, he pulled you tight into his embrace. He couldn't get over the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of you being manhandled by the drunk homeless man.

Tears flowed down your cheeks as the realisation dawned that the prince had indeed heard your desperate pleas for help. You found yourself sobbing, torn between profound relief and a gnawing sense of guilt.

You were relieved, beyond words, that he had come to your rescue. Yet, the guilt weighed heavily on your heart, knowing that you were the reason he had been hurt. Swiftly, you pulled away from him, turning him around to inspect his injury. To your astonishment, your eyes widened in shock.

"We must return immediately! You need medical attention, Yunho!" You exclaimed urgently.

Not wanting to further distress you, Yunho nodded in agreement. Together, you made your way back to the palace. Along the journey, he handed you the crumpled bag of candied fruits he had kept in his pocket this whole time.

"Here, please stop crying. I like it better when you smile." He said, his lips curving into a fond chuckle. Your response was to cry even harder at his touching gesture.

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind," Yunho admitted with a sigh, "I should have taken you with me," Your brow furrowed in confusion, "Why should you be sorry? You saved me, Yunho! And now, you're injured because of me."

With a tender sigh, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as the palace gates drew nearer.

This was indeed an unforgettable night.

Yeri and Mingi were utterly startled when they learned about your recent adventure with the prince, an escapade that had placed you perilously close to harm's way. In fact, the entire royal staff shared their incredulity. As a result, security measures around the palace grounds had been heightened significantly to prevent any recurrence of such incidents.

Nevertheless, the prince and the princess seemed to have drawn closer in the wake of these events. You faithfully visited Yunho daily to monitor his recovery and ensure he received the necessary rest.

The recent days had been remarkably peaceful, and judging from the interactions between the two, there was a palpable sense of optimism among those who observed them. It seemed that perhaps, at long last, the prince might come to terms with the arranged marriage with the princess.

Unfortunately for you all, the peace only lasted so long.

One day, as you spent time with Yunho in his garden, Yeosang abruptly burst in, his breathless urgency disrupting the tranquil atmosphere. He conveyed the news that you had never imagined could transpire.

"We're under attack, and by 'we,' I mean both Wonderland and Aurora," He gasped out, causing you to leap from your seat in shock, "What- by who?" You demanded, your voice quaking.

The advisor swallowed hard before responding, "It's Utopia. We suspect they are displeased with Aurora for terminating their alliance to form a new one with us instead."

Utopia, long thought to be peaceful, had suddenly launched a surprise attack on both you and Yunho's kingdoms. For generations, the neighbouring kingdom of Utopia had been a beacon of peace and tranquillity on the horizon.

But on this fateful morning, a shockwave of dread rippled through both Wonderland and Aurora as the tranquil facade of Utopia shattered.

You sank back into your chair, a sense of hopelessness washing over you as you gazed up at Yeosang, "Is there any chance I could have a conversation with Prince San? We've shared a close bond since childhood. If I could just speak with him, perhaps we could find a resolution without resorting to further violence."

Detecting the despair in your voice, Yunho offered a comforting gesture by gently covering your hand with his own. It was a silent reassurance that you were not alone in this ordeal, that he would stand by your side throughout the entire journey.

The advisor nodded in response, his tone assuring, "I'll do my best to arrange it. It shouldn't be too difficult if he's willing to meet with you."

You marvelled at Yeosang's ability to work swiftly, and soon enough, you found yourself granted a brief audience with San. Despite your insistence on meeting him alone, Yunho vehemently protested, vowing never to allow you to do something so dangerous on your own.

And so, it was how you and Yunho came to be seated across from Prince San of Utopia, a figure from your childhood and the person who should have been your betrothed by now.

As expected, his expression brimmed with heartfelt apologies.

San retained the gentleness and caring nature you had known throughout your shared history. He candidly admitted that this was all orchestrated by his parents, emphasising his own reluctance and powerlessness to halt their plans.

"Believe me, I tried everything within my ability to dissuade them from this reckless course of action. However, my father felt deeply betrayed by your parents for abruptly breaking our long-standing alliance."

San rubs his neck sheepishly, "You understand how eagerly my parents had anticipated our union. Your sudden change of heart and the decision to arrange a marriage with the Prince of Wonderland, of all people, appeared to our people as if you were abandoning your friends to align with the enemy."

Your face fell as you comprehended the unfavourable perception that had taken hold among the people of Utopia. In hindsight, you realised it was difficult to blame them for their anger.

"But, of course, this doesn't excuse my father's decision to attack your kingdoms." San continued earnestly.

"I stand firmly against this aggression, just as you do. However, my position as the prince of Utopia places me in a precarious situation. I cannot betray my own nation to support you directly. What I can pledge is my commitment to not interfere in any way. I won't participate in this conflict, that much I can assure you."

With San's explanations, you gained a clearer understanding of the circumstances that led to the current crisis.

While Yunho watched on, harbouring a trace of jealousy, you bid farewell to the Utopian prince with a tight embrace. San whispered kind words in your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, offering his good wishes and luck for the challenging road ahead.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, you promptly corresponded with your parents in Aurora to notify them of the latest developments.

Despite your parents' earnest attempts to de-escalate the situation through diplomatic negotiations with the Utopian rulers, it became evident that quelling their anger was no simple task. It appeared that the only viable path forward was to prepare for the impending conflict, as the prospect of war loomed inevitably.

The unexpected and brutal surprise attack launched by Utopia's forces leaves the people of Wonderland and Aurora reeling in disbelief. The peace they had cherished for so long was now under siege and their very survival hung in the balance.

Your kingdoms, though distinct in culture and tradition, were suddenly united by a common enemy that threatened to engulf you in an unending nightmare. Forced into an alliance born out of dire necessity, the people of Wonderland and Aurora put aside their prior differences and prejudices.

In the midst of the chaos and devastation, you and Yunho found yourselves facing an unthinkable reality.

You and the prince were gathered in the meeting chamber where you were scheduled to meet not only with the king but also with some of Wonderland's most influential figures, including generals and other military leaders, to discuss war strategies.

As you waited for the meeting to commence, an overwhelming sense of guilt gnawed at you, and you felt the need to seize the moment and extend an apology to the prince.

"I'm truly sorry, Yunho. If it weren't for our decisions, this devastating war wouldn't have befallen Wonderland either. Now you're embroiled in this conflict as well." You confessed with remorse.

Yunho shook his head, a faint smile gracing his lips as he gently tilted your chin upward, causing you to meet his gaze.

"You do realise that war would have inevitably reached Wonderland regardless, yes?" He replied, his words carrying a weight of resignation, "The difference lies in whether it's a war with Aurora or Utopia. And you know what? I'd much prefer to stand beside you in this fight. So, thank you for coming to me."

Your heart leapt at his words which felt almost like a confession.

The prince's unwavering eyes remained fixed on yours and just as he leaned in closer, his nose brushed against yours, Mingi loudly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your reverie and interrupting the delicate moment.

Yunho directed a disapproving glare at your guard but soon grasped the reason behind his actions, as the arrival of other attendees signalled the commencement of the meeting.

Thankfully, everyone else had been too distracted by the gravity of the situation to notice your slightly flustered state.

As you and the prince work together to assess the scale of the threat and develop a strategic response, the bond between you grows even stronger than it already is. It was a connection forged not only by your shared responsibility to protect your people but also by the vulnerability and uncertainty of the situation you found yourselves in.

Through this, you discovered that your strengths complemented each other beautifully. Yunho's tactical brilliance and leadership skills blended seamlessly with your sharp intellect and diplomatic finesse.

Through long nights of planning and strategising, you began to trust and rely on each other implicitly.

In the dimly lit courtyard, the air was heavy with anticipation and worry. Prince Yunho of Wonderland stood resolute, clad in his regal armour, his sword gleaming at his side.

Beside him, your eyes brimmed with concern about the inevitable separation.

During your many discussions, you'd insisted on going to war by his side but he had protested and convinced everyone that it would be wiser to keep you in the palace as backup. Deep down, you know it was merely a tactic to keep you safe.

Yunho gazed into your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Remember," He began softly, "I promised to return safely," His voice was unwavering, filled with conviction, "I hope you understand it's crucial that you remain here in the palace, as a beacon of strength and hope for our people. You'll be our guiding light."

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Yunho continued, his voice tender and persuasive, "Staying here is the right choice, my princess. You will provide the vital support we need from within these walls. Trust in my determination. I'll do everything in my power to ensure our victory."

As you reluctantly released each other's hands, Yunho planted a tender kiss on your forehead, a final gesture of reassurance.

With unwavering resolve, he turned to depart, leaving behind the woman he now knows he cherished, fully determined to fulfil his promise and return to your side.

And since the day he left to fight the war that your kingdom caused, your days had been marked by waiting, your heart a constant blend of hope and fear. You paced the palace corridors, restless but steadfast, watching the horizon for any sign of Yunho's return.

As time crawled by, whispers of the war's progress reached your ears. Each tidbit of news was a double-edged sword, carrying both relief and anxiety. You clung to the words of those who assured you of Yunho's valour and the strength of your armies.

Then, one fateful day, a messenger arrived, breathless and dishevelled. He bore news of victory, but it came at a price. Your heart raced as you learned that Yunho had been injured in the final battle.

Despite the fear that clenched your heart, there was a glimmer of hope. The prince was on his way back to the palace, victorious yet wounded. You could hardly contain your emotions—relief, worry and an overwhelming desire to see him safe and sound.

With bated breath and tears of both joy and anxiety in your eyes, you readied yourself to welcome the prince home, ready to tend to his wounds, grateful that he was coming back to you.

As Yunho stirred from his week-long coma, he couldn't have been more elated to find you as the first sight that greeted his awakening. You were perched on your elbows by his bedside, fast asleep with tear-stained cheeks.

The sight of you tugged at his heartstrings, a profound realisation washing over him. He knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that waking up to you each day was what he yearned for.

Gently placing a hand on your cheek to tenderly wipe away your tears, he took care not to disturb your slumber. He breathed a contented sigh as you instinctively nestled into his touch in your sleep.

Gosh, I could watch her like this forever.

But of course, the peace was short-lived like always. Just as Yeosang entered and spotted him awake, the serene moment vanished with the advisor's enthusiastic shout, "He's awake!" echoing down the corridor to summon the attention of the healers.

Yunho silently cursed when the sound roused you from your sleep.

You sat up abruptly, realisation dawning as you discovered he was finally conscious, "Oh my god, Yunho!" You threw your arms around his neck and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Returning your embrace with equal fervour, he buried his face against your shoulder, hearing your whispered words, "It's over, it's finally over."

Although he understood that you were referring to the end of the war with Utopia, he seized the moment to confess his feelings for you.

"No, it's not over yet," You pulled away, a look of confusion crossing your face, "What do you mean it's not over? We won the war, didn't we?"

He smiled, his fingers caressing your face tenderly.

"It's not over until you tell me if you're willing to marry me. If you haven't already noticed, I love you, princess. I can't pinpoint when it all began, but after all the time we've spent together and all the trials we've faced, I only know that I can't bear to spend another day without you by my side. Throughout that war, the one thing that kept me going was the thought of returning to you and asking you myself; Will you marry me?"

At long last, Yunho admits to himself and you that he's fallen in love with you. Lucky for him, you felt exactly the same.

You smiled tearfully back at him, "I thought you'd never ask, Yunho. I love you too, my prince. And the answer is yes, I will marry you." Putting a hand up to stop the healers and Yeosang from entering, he wasted no time pressing his lips firmly against yours in a passionate and emotional kiss.

Finally.

Not wanting to cockblock the pair any further, the servants scurried to pull the doors to the prince's bed chambers closed to give the two some privacy for the time being.

Now, all that's left for the prince to do is man up and speak to his parents about this.

In the opulent royal chamber of the palace, Prince Yunho, his demeanour a mix of determination and vulnerability, stood before his parents. You had initially offered to go with him but he had refused, telling you that this was something he had to do on his own.

With a steady voice and unwavering eyes, he expressed his heartfelt desire.

"Mother, father," He began, "I wish to marry the Princess of Aurora now, without delay." His words carried a depth of conviction that resonated through the room.

His parents, the king and queen of Wonderland, exchanged knowing glances. A warm, teasing smile crept onto their faces as they responded to their son's heartfelt request.

"Well, well," The queen quipped with a playful glint in her eye, "It seems our prince has finally surrendered to the inevitability of an arranged marriage."

The king chuckled in agreement, his tone light yet affectionate, "Indeed, my son. It's about time you acknowledged the wisdom of our arrangements."

Yunho, while blushing slightly at their playful teasing, nodded with a genuine smile.

His parents' gentle ribbing was a testament to their shared understanding and affectionate bond. It marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—one filled with the promise of love, unity and a bright future with the princess he had come to cherish.

Meanwhile, back in Aurora, your parents brimmed with joy upon receiving the news. They got to work immediately with the wedding arrangements.

Swiftly, an official announcement about the union of the Prince of Wonderland and the Princess of Aurora was made to the people of both nations.

In the wake of the collective struggle against Utopia, the people had found a way to set aside their differences and grievances.

Together, they rejoiced in their newfound unity, celebrating not only the alliance between the two kingdoms but also their triumphant victory over Utopia. The past was relegated to history and a promising future beckoned, marked by cooperation, harmony and shared aspirations.

"Congratulations, my dear princess," Yeri grinned as she took a step back, admiring her handiwork. Your hair and makeup were flawless, "Thank you, Yeri, for standing by my side through it all," You expressed your gratitude, "I hope you've grown accustomed to Wonderland because we'll be here for the long haul."

Yeri chuckled, "Oh, princess, I didn't come here with the expectation of returning to Aurora. I suppose deep down, I knew this is where you truly belong—right by Prince Yunho's side."

A delicate blush warmed your cheeks at the mention of your soon-to-be husband.

Yeri regarded you with affection, her gaze filled with sincerity, "You look so genuinely happy these days, princess. That's all I've ever wished for you—happiness. Promise me you'll keep this joy alive for a long time."

You nodded, tears shimmering in your eyes, "I will, Yeri, I promise."

"Don't you dare shed a tear; I spent ages on your eye makeup!" Yeri quipped and you both shared a laugh. Your heart swelled with warmth when you noticed Mingi, your closest guard, wearing a subtle smile in his corner, "I see you there, Song Mingi." You teased.

He scoffed lightly, "I wasn't trying to hide. But congratulations, your highness." Touched by his gesture, you approached Mingi and hugged him, careful not to disrupt your wedding gown.

At that moment, the bond between you and your loyal guard and handmaiden was a testament to the enduring friendships that had guided you through the journey to this joyous occasion.

In the resplendent palace courtyard, where the sun bathed the surroundings in a warm, golden glow, the Prince of Wonderland and the Princess of Aurora stood before their families, their subjects, and the benevolent eyes of the heavens.

With heartfelt sincerity, you exchanged vows, your voices carrying the weight of your love and commitment. Yunho's voice, steady and unwavering, vowed to cherish and protect you for all time, while your words promised to stand by his side through all the trials and joys that life would bring.

As you concluded your vows, the air seemed to hold its breath, witnessing this profound declaration of love.

The moment that followed was pure magic—a sweet, tender kiss that sealed your promises and marked the beginning of your journey together as husband and wife. The world around you faded, leaving only the prince and princess, lost in the warmth of your love and the promise of a beautiful future ahead.

The kingdoms of Wonderland and Aurora have come together not only through the arranged marriage but also through the genuine love and connection between Prince Yunho and his princess.

Your union becomes a symbol of lasting peace.

Gazing out from the balcony of your and Yunho's bed chambers, you released a contented sigh, entranced by the breathtaking view of Wonderland.

Never had you imagined such a reality for yourself.

Marriage had always appeared as a mere obligation, a duty that came with your role as the princess of your realm. Yet, here you stood, wedded to the love of your life.

It was beyond anything you could have hoped for.

Reflecting on your initial apprehension at the prospect of marrying Yunho, you chuckled at the insignificance of those fears now.

Your lips curled into a smile as the familiar embrace of strong arms enveloped you from behind, drawing your form close to his, the contrast in your sizes a comforting reminder of his protective presence.

"What are you doing out here all alone, hm? Come back to bed, my love," He murmured, pressing affectionate kisses along your exposed neck, "Just reminiscing about how silly we were at the start. Look at us now, so happy together."

Yunho's smile illuminated the night as he gently turned you to face him, "I'm glad that marrying for love is no longer only a dream never to come true for you," He whispered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, "I love you so much, my princess."

A swell of joy filled your heart, a testament to the boundless depth of your love, "I love you too, my prince. Thank you for making my dream come true."

In the realm of Wonderland and Aurora, where love had once been the cornerstone of your alliance, Prince Yunho and you, the Princess of Aurora, embarked on your journey of happily ever after.

Your union, born from an arranged marriage but nurtured by genuine love, was a symbol of unity and hope for your kingdoms.

Together, you ruled with wisdom, compassion and unwavering devotion to your people. The lands of Wonderland and Aurora flourished under your reign and the scars of past conflicts began to heal as the two kingdoms truly became one.

Hand in hand, you ventured through the seasons of life, sharing laughter, dreams and challenges. Your love, built on a foundation of trust and companionship, only deepened with time. Together, you found solace in each other's arms and the comfort of knowing you were each other's greatest support.

As the sun set over your united kingdoms, you stood on the balcony of your palace together, watching the horizon with hearts full of contentment.

Your journey had been one of growth, resilience and love, and you knew that your happily ever after would continue to unfold, a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity.

Hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading! I love reading your thoughts, reviews and feedback so feel free to leave a reply, an ask or even a message if you want! <3

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for all my stories.

Tag list: @aurasblue

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sheer Irony

(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:58 p.m

Titans!Jason Todd/fem!reader angst/fluff (TW: Suicide Mention/Attempt)

—

A faint breeze blows along your cheeks as you open the door, eyes glazing over a broad horizon full of dreary skies and rooftops. You find who you’re looking for standing ontop of a metallic platform framing along the edge of the building, his downturned head peering down at the dense, vacant streets below.

A long, harsh, catastrophic drop with just the wrong step.

Confusion rattled your mind when you wondered exactly what the hell was going on, never seeing such a trifling event happen in the common area. Millions of questions followed once you heard the screaming.

A million more followed suit when you walked in on the hostile environment, the air thick with static tension.

“You people are insane!” He had cried out by the second you entered the room, surprised to find a short crowd of people against him. Friends, colleagues, all glaring at him with accusations you didn’t fully hear.

“I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes,” Jason states with an emotional quiver in his tone, growing more detectable towards the end of his words. “You think everything’s my fault.”

“Jason?” You call out to him, seeing his head lightly peek over his shoulder. Whether he heard you or not, he knew you arrived once the door was slammed shut behind you due to the wind.

“What do you want?” He asks with understandable bitterness wrapped up in a solemn tone, as if you were a stranger he could’ve cared less about.

Technically, you and Jason were colleagues for a long time, but never really reached the category of friends.

He was an obnoxious, painfully reckless Robin, but he was good. You were good, training yourself to set your differences aside to put the tasks at hand. You provided data, not violence.

The task now was to set those barriers of yours down with intentions to knock on his.

“To talk.” You reply, not wanting to approach further than you had to, but a huge part of you wanted to go further.

“Look. I don’t wanna hear any more bullshit—“

“Not about that,” you insist. “Just to talk, that’s all.”

To talk, to buy time. Anything.

Waves of guilt coursed through your veins for him, for his safety. The strong winds could easily sweep him off his feet if he allowed it, the tension in his braced legs preventing him from slipping off the ledge he stood on for now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jason states, his lungs burning with reach trembling breath he took. “The others think you’re crazy following me out here.”

“I don’t care what they think,” was your response, rooftop gravel crunching underneath your shoe as you took a slow step forward. “I don’t want you to be alone out here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?” He questions, refusing to turn around and face you with full disbelief on his face. “You hate me. You can’t stand me every time I’m around. No one can.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, slowly getting yourself to take another step forward. About four feet of distance remained between you and Jason, your mind cluttered with ideas on how to get him

“Jason, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Jason mutters, not believing you for a good second. You understood that he wouldn’t trust anyone after what you witnessed. You didn’t want to be on that side.

The steel frames were tall enough for you to hop up yourself, but the height was unnerving.

He remained quiet, pondering his rancid emotions running nonstop in his head. He felt himself nothing but poison; black pitch that stuck to everyone who so much as touched him, costing their skin like a cancer until it killed them.

That’s what was happening now, wasn’t it? Everyone was hating him, blaming him for things he didn’t understand. Now, here you were, coming up to add onto the pile. He assumed that on the spot. Why else were you here?

Bracing your hands along the beam, you push yourself up on it, fighting back your fear of heights to put yourself into this vulnerable position. Thinking slowly, you ponder over what else you could do, thinking over in your mind.

“Wanna sit?” You say, hoping he’d take the hand that offered such an innocent suggestion. “Talking is easier to do when sitting.”

To show this, you move into a sitting position beside him, feeling a little less tense on your concerns for falling. Jason doesn’t take the bait at first, only wondering as to why you were still even trying with him.

“You don’t need to be here,” he reverberates, but you weren’t going to have it.

“Neither do you,” you glanced up at him, seeing his attention fully focused on you, sitting beside him as of the ledge was just an every day public park bench.

Reluctantly, he shifts his position, leaving you to thank the Gods. With Jason sitting, you had much better control and opportunity to catch him, with the roof behind you to break both your fall.

“Do you want the truth?” You hesitantly ask, wondering if that’s what he needed. Someone who didn’t follow the others, who didn’t view him as a scapegoat to their problems, just because the unintentional category he fell into without realizing.

Just a glance of his bruised face in your direction after staring ahead for so long gave you the sign, smoothing your sweaty palms over thighs.

“You can be… obnoxious sometimes,” you proceed, slowly making the decision to proceed. “But not dark, or annoying, or… Look. I don’t get why they accused you on the spot. I really don’t.”

Silence continued to rattle his physique. His shifting head slowly peering downwards after hearing your words. His heartbeat began drumming in his head, his lungs burning with an irritated sting, his throat going dry.

“I might not like how you are, Jason,” you blatantly confess, “But I tolerate you enough to understand that you didn’t deserve this.”

There it was. Catching him off guard by cold facts, only to soothe the blow with truth. Your truth, the truth that should matter.

Not everyone was against him.

A part of him appreciates it, but at the same time, he grew irritated at your persistence to tell him what he already knew. It only made his feelings for you that much harder to understand.

He was supposed to not like you.

You were smart, yes. You popped one liners when you helped relay information to the Titans, read books and kept journals by yourself during your free time, and listened to music when you were in desperate need of relief after plenty of audible overstimulation.

The way you had your hair styled on different days, your persistence of spraying perfume on yourself before going to bed.

You weren’t loud, you weren’t overtly quiet. You respected business and boundaries, despite your job to hack and defy the purpose of them behind a computer screen.

He hated how unique yet simple you were. No one would suspect you of your talents, balancing your double life with little to mo effort.

“You don’t deserve this, Jason,” you say in order to remind him, watching his calloused fingers slowly flexing in his lap, signifying his various difficult emotions. You’d say it as many times as you needed to, to ram it into his every day thoughts.

“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head, peering at his battered, slowly healing face. “And… maybe I don’t entirely hate just how annoying you are. Sometimes, it makes things fun on a boring night.”

The corner of his busted lip rose in a faint, subtle smile. That made an interesting amount of sense. Maybe he was the type to irritate you on purpose, especially during his much earlier days.

His much earlier, flirtier Robin days.

“How annoying?”

Maybe, just maybe, being his friend didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Horribly,” you instantly reply as it became your turn to smile. “I mean it. Every day I wake up and dread what stupid thing you’d say next. What could you possibly say today for me to cringe at.”

If the both of you weren’t sitting on the edge of a building, Jason would have half a heart to nudge you with his shoulder. But, he knew your fear of heights.

“You think of me?”

“It’s hard not to, Jay.”

—

“Did I miss a party?” You announce as you enter the dark, gloomy hallway, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of two tall men talking to one another. A pile of unconscious bodies explaining their rigorous treatments just moments before you arrived.

“You missed the fun,” Jason chides, an amused smirk quickly growing on his face. The first full bodied smile Tim had seen on Jason since they met.

“A little earlier, you coulda joined in on your kickass computer skills.”

“Oh, ha ha,” you say, catching sight of Jason’s said laptop abandoned on the ground, bits of broken glass hinting at an unsalvageable screen. “Looks like someone beat me to it already.”

“It’s you.” Tim’s voice makes your head raise, giving the man a smile as you take in his Robin uniform.

“It’s me,” you reply, feeling a nostalgic flutter in your chest upon seeing that uniform worn by someone new. “I see Dick passed on the torch. How’s it feel?”

“He’s learning fast,” Jason gestures with a raised finger before pointing towards the bodies. “Very fast.”

“I see that.”

Ever since you had made the choice to step back from your position with the Titans a while back, life had gotten more chaotic in very unexpected ways.

You changed; in heart, in mind, in maturity.

You’ve grieved your best friend’s death, silently took pleasure in violent justice in the deaths of those who’ve betrayed and harmed your colleagues. You grieved once more when masks were unveiled, and even aided the wrong crowds for a while.

At your age, you’ve seen it all, you’ve learned from other peoples mistakes, as well as your own. You hated it, but accepted the lessons learned. As off as that sounds, that’s the best way you could describe it.

You kept in touch with Dick when he needed the help from the ‘attractive computer geek,’ so you were at least aware of what was going on. Hearing it all from Tim’s perspective brought back the times when you used to work alongside a particular ex-Robin, who remained standing close to your side during all topics of discussion.

“I got to meet the great Red Hood,” you watched with a smile a few steps up on the staircase as Tim prods Jason’s chest in a friendly manner, causing a flare in his ego as he chuckles in response.

“Don’t forget her,” Jason gestures his head up towards you, Tim’s eyes catching the faint flush in your cheeks.

“Poor girl’s kept us from running around with our heads cut off for years.”

“Always gotta respect the tech workers,” Tim agrees with a nod, making you scoff in amusement. “At least you didn’t call me ‘customer support’. That’s Grayson’s favorite.”

You said you were leaving when Tim was considerate to offer you a ride, but you brush off that you had your own, intending to head out for a date in two hours.

But, you weren’t.

The Titans, old or new, didn’t need to know all your secrets, regardless if cracking them was your specialty.

“You gave him your bike?” You ask once he gets off the phone with said old bird, approaching him as he gazed up at a clear board with various equations scrawled on the surface.

“Just sits there getting dust in the corner. I trust him to take care of it.” Jason sips at his dark drink once more before trailing off to the side, setting the bottle down.

“Still on for tomorrow night?” Jason asks, watching smile form on your face. The date. It was kinda true.

“Of course. Just came by to get my lipgloss.” You smirk, raising up your cherry flavored lip product you had to fetch from under his bed where it had rolled. “Forgot it here last night, remember?”

“How could I ever.” Jason replies with a lowered rumble, recalling all the memories of the night prior, involving getting sticky, glittery cherry gloss along his lips, leaving remnants of it smeared on his neck after a very short, sexually tense conversation.

“Kinda thought you’d wear a scarf when you showed up,” he teases as he approached, amused at your eye roll.

“I don’t do scarves, Todd,” you state, feeling it harder to fight off a smile. Your hands ease off your hips to settle across Jason’s broad shoulders.

“Whatever you say, shortcake.”

By now, you should take up a job at being a makeup counter girl, especially considering how well you managed to cover up your hickies over the span of many, many months.

Your nose lightly brushes with his, his lips merely missing yours on purpose, planting a single kiss on the corner of your mouth before holding you closer, your hips smugly fitting into his hands.

You were a breath of fresh, rainstorm air after a dark storm, your perfume clinging to his clothes for days.

“Was thinkin’,” he murmurs. “We’d try to reenact last night for our date night.”

“Hmm, with a different flavor?”

“You taste a lot better without it.”

You giggle, settling your hands along his back to keep secure in this comforting embrace.

“You think of me like that?” The words softly leave your lips.

He smiles down at you, his eyes full of warmth and comfort in your presence, cradling your right cheek after fixing a bit of your hair. He can’t help but shift attention to your pretty lips; perfect petal soft skin that displayed the prettiest of smiles to his god awful humor.

“It’s hard not to, babe.”

[cardierreh15]

Variants

This is just part one of two! Enjoy ⚡️🐺

***I do not give anyone consent to copy, translate or repost my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Angst , Mild Violence .

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Cavillrine) x Ororo Munroe also known as Storm ⚡️

Description: Ororo wakes up in another universe, she meets someone familiar…

Word Count: 4.8K

Song: Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen (but whatever your favorite version is)

Earth-811, Days of Future Present (my own twist) to Earth-199999

Side Note: Please keep in mind, this is not at all accurate and I am only writing something I thought up. Anything from how she got to this Earth from to her meeting Logan is not canon events.

Side, Side Note: Lyrics are in regular italics. Ororo's thoughts are in Italics Bold and OG Logan's voice is in orange italics.

Part One

Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do ya?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king composing "Hallelujah”

It was a beautiful day on Earth 199999. Not a cloud to be spotted. The birds chirped and there was even a cool breeze to combat the humid air that the season had brought in on its back. But all of that was about to change.

With the bat of an eye, dark heavy clouds rolled into the view of the sun. Blocking out any rays that were toasting up some skins and feeding flowers. Violent lightning bolts filled the sky and loud thunder shook the ground beneath the feet of man. Rain beat down like rocks and the wind blew so strong, it toppled cars and pulled trees from their roots.

In the middle of that chaos, was a woman who would change the entire timeline of this world. Though, she had no idea where she was or whether she was even alive. But she was what this world needed.

Falling unconscious from the thunderous clouds, she collapsed into the pacific. Engulfed and swallowed up by the merciless deep blue. One would think that was the end of this Storm Goddess. But fate and destiny were willing to bend the rules when it came to fulfilling their name.

Upon her contact, the impact of her landing had not only caused hurricanes but water spouts that could tear up an entire island and record breaking tsunamis. Countless lives had been lost upon her ascend.

Months had passed on by and the world was slowly healing from the detrimental damage that came with Ororo’s hard landing. Reporters and storm researchers tried to get to the bottom of what could’ve caused something like this to happen so simultaneously and without warning. The UN (United Nations) had already started on their own journey trying to get to the bottom of it; if it was mutant related and purposeful. As if they give a damn about that really. On her Earth, the United States were the reason why she was here in the first place.

Ororo was found caught in a fishing net in Vancouver. She was well preserved and oddly enough, still warm to the touch. Yet, still knocked into a deep coma that not even inhaling water could wake her from.

A man, not from this plain, had noticed that she wasn’t exactly human. And if the other fisherman had suspected her of being a mutant, they’d have her shipped off to a lab somewhere in the US after they collected their reward. So, he took her back to his home in Alberta, Canada. Far away from society and where he could be himself.

The stranger would come check on the brown sleeping beauty every once in a while. Everyday in the morning before he went to chop wood to aid her fireplace and then once before sunset. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly pin it. She was enigmatic! And the feeling of limerence grew the longer she stayed. The way her white finely twisted dreads lay splayed out beneath her head, her thick white brows and lashes. How the shade appeared to enhance her skin and feminine features. Even in her time of nadir, she took his breath away.

Almost like a forbidden kind of beauty. The one that came with a dark past.

Those days had turned into weeks and finally a month had passed since her arrival at the stranger’s residence.

Ororo’s eyes had flashed open, white as her hair as she inhaled so much air that instantly burned her lungs and choked her out.

Sitting up, she placed her hand over her chest before gripping the linens that she wore. She wheezed as salty tears streamed down her face as she fought to breathe. Her vision blurred, her head felt so heavy and it throbbed with an achy vengeance. The words of her lover repeated in her ears.

I love you, Ororo. You don’t have to come back for me. If you find a perfect world, stay there.

She coached herself to steady her breathing as her snowy eyes had faded into something more human. Brown as the Earth’s soil. Ororo hiccuped as her awareness finally hit her like a ton of bricks. She scanned the bedroom for anything to tell her where she was. Or at least, which part of the Multiverse she had landed in.

Pulling herself from the warmth of the heavy comforters, she felt as if she’d been only asleep for a day. Her limbs and balance worked as they did when she was fleeing from the Sentinels. Though, it came with only a little bit of soreness. That was from the battering of the waves.

She whimpered as she rotated her arm to aid the soreness there. ‘Aah. Where the hell am I?’ The bedroom was a piece of paragonal work. Lots of natural light that was let in by 3 large arched windows and a large skylight window that made stargazing comfortable when night came. 

The furniture was vintage; carved out of mahogany and donned with gold handles and knobs. All of the furniture was dusted clean, the mirror at the vanity didn’t see a speck or smudge. A telltale sign that someone had been in here to visit her quite frequently.

With the bedroom’s cleanliness, came no clues of where she was. Ororo began to rummage and search through the dresser drawers and the nightstand. 

Breathing heavily as she felt herself growing anxious with tears filling her eyes, she felt herself falling apart. 

Don’t come back for me. 

Logan please.

I mean it, thundercloud. If you find a perfect world, stay there. 

‘Ooh! Fuck you, Logan!’ She exclaimed through gritted teeth as tears fell from her eyes. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’ She exclaimed as she slammed her fists into the mahogany wood that cracked beneath her strength. 

A loud thunder crack echoed outside, with a bolt hitting right outside her bedroom window.

Tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fists as she brought them up before opening her palms. The tiny bolts flickered before vanishing completely and a tear fell in their place. 

Wiping her snotty nose with her sleeve, she took a deep breath and wiped her tears with her free wrist. How was she going to make it without him?

The sound of 80’s rock and roll brought her out of her misery. The same kind of music they’d listen to together on his motorcycle when times were much simpler. She used to peel the clouds out of the sky or simply push them over the next city so they could go riding. 

The smell of his cigar smoke mended into his brown leather jacket. The way his thick dark hair used to fluff about in the wind and how he used to risk their lives by rubbing her arm when she held him tight.

Good times.

Ororo rushed towards the large wooden door and tugged it open with its golden knob. She was met with fresh air when she rushed outside. The sound of the music was no longer muffled by the thickness of those wooden walls. Yet it did echo and bounce off of trees in the surrounding area.

Quickly making her way down the wooden steps, she founded the calls and howls of the infamous Axel Rose. It didn't take her long to find the host; just a cut around the cabin and she was standing in front of it. Catacorner from it was a makeshift garage. Old broken down cars, motorcycles, and tires lie scattered about.

This looked just like Logan’s garage. A mess and unkept.

She felt as if this was all some kind of fever dream. 

Inclined to meet the person who saved her, Ororo began to journey forward until she came across a mature and very large Fir tree that sported claw marks. She walked towards it as the fast music became a blur in her ears. She ran her finger tips over the marks. 

9 claw marks but in threes. She knew only one person who could pull this off. 

‘Oh my god— JAMES!’ Her heart fluttered like crazy as she sped walked to the garage and pushed the doors open. ‘JAMES!’

There he stood, back turned as he worked on his bike. He wore his classic white wife beater, denim jeans and brown boots. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he squeezed the clutch of his bike. She was sure that he couldn’t hear her over the shouting of Guns N Roses and the purr of his motorcycle, so she reached her hand up towards one of the hanging lamps and shot a lightning bolt at it. 

A gleaming smile curled up on her lips with a twinkle in her eye.

That caught his attention, causing him to stand up straight.

There was a long pause before the individual reached over and turned down the old school radio that sat on the toolbox. 

‘You know it’s been a long time since someone called me that.’

His voice… He didn’t sound like the Logan she knew and loved. Though from this angle, he was the spitting image. Her smile remained. ‘Wh-what do you mean we—‘

The male finally turned around to face her. But the cloud of smoke from the cigar that he puffed on, made him impossible to make out.

She used to hate the smell, now she lived for it. Craved it.

‘You still smoke those-‘

Stepping through the cloud, the individual revealed himself. 

His hair was curly thick, styled up to resemble ears as if he were a puppy. The same way her James used to style his hair. He even sported that very same beard cut with the center of his chin shaved and his jaws furry. 

His eyes were bright blue unlike the original Logan’s, comforting brown.

Her smile faltered as she placed a hand on her stomach and took a step back.

‘Hmm.’ The man grumbled as he reached behind him and scooped up a white dirty hand towel to wipe his hands. He held his lit cigar in his jaw before taking it out with his clean fingers.

Ororo stood there, her eyes wide in shock and confusion. Her mouth opened to ask a question but the words just wouldn’t come out!

‘I didn’t think you’d ever wake up. You seem to be walking well.’

He was the one that saved her.

‘H-‘ she swallowed, ‘How long was I out?’

Tossing the dirty cloth on the toolbox, he placed the cigar back between his lips and inhaled greatly. And when he exhaled, another large cloud of smoke shrouded the garage.

‘Well,’ he grumbled, ‘You’ve been here for about a month. I uh— suspect you have no idea what’s going on… do you?’

A month? There’s no way I have been here for a month! I stepped in that portal yesterday! 

Ororo placed her hand on her neck as she felt her blood pressure begin to spike. Her body began to gently rock side to side as her stomach twisted and turned.

‘Wh-where did you find me a-and where am I?’

‘You’re in Alberta…’

Her eyes grew, ‘CANADA?!’

‘Some fishermen in Vancouver found you sleeping in a net with some salmon.’ 

She brought her fingers up to her temples and began to rub that spot when her head began to throb. 

And right on cue, thunder roared outside. 

Logan looked up at the roof as rain drizzled and created a song atop the metal. Then he looked back at her. She appeared to be fighting a migraine. And the more she fought, the heavier the drizzle became.

Then it clicked.

‘You alright over there? Need some pain meds?’ He mumbled with his cigar in his mouth.

‘Mmph! It’s okay just—.’

‘Uh-huh. Y’know, there’s been some dangerous storms going on. Tsunamis, Hurricanes, typhoons, the whole nine.’

‘Mmm.’ Ororo grimaced at the pain, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she clenched her jaw together. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘I don’t know. But, the storms started about 4 months ago.’ 

I’ve been here for four months?! Oh my god.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’ Ororo whimpered as her vision blurred once again from tears. Her chest began to heave and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

‘Oh, whatever you do just—‘

Barf. Clear bubbly flim mixed with yellow bile splattered on the smooth concrete. 

‘Take that… outside. Aw shit.’

The woman collapsed to her hands and knees as he rushed over to her aid. She choked as her insides forced and fought to be on the outside. The taste of the raw acid burned at her esophagus and mouth. The rancid taste only made her gag more. 

‘Hey, it’s okay.’

It’s okay, Storm. If we’re meant to be… we’ll be.

Her eyes turned white with tiny bolts dancing around them, heaving harder as she stared at the disgusting vomit.

‘You have to look away! Look at me!’ 

As soon as Logan snatched up her hands, lightning zapped him to hell. 

Fortunately nothing that’ll kill him, but it stung like shit. ‘Aah!’ He hissed as he snatched his hands away, fanning them painfully. ‘Fuck!’

You’re my strong girl.

Ororo shut her eyes tightly as the heaving turned into a sob. ‘I can’t do this without you…’

The drizzle had turned into a heavy pitter patter. Thunder roared outside, causing the tin can of a garage to rattle. 

Logan’s brows tugged into one as the burning tingling began to fade into his hand. He watched as the woman crumbled into herself. 

This wasn’t tears of fear or confusion. But of mourning and grief. He could practically smell the pain exuding off of her. Logan knew what it felt like to lose someone. To be completely lost in a world that didn’t accept who he was. To be alone. 

Reaching out to her, tiny lightning bolts reached out to embrace his fingertips as if they were familiarized with his energy or aura. 

They didn’t burn him this time, just tiny manageable pinches. He placed his palm on her back and sighed softly.

If we’re meant to be…

His mouth parted to say something, afraid to say the wrong thing. 

Ororo blinked her eyes open before looking over at him. 

He was almost the exact same replica of her James. That same mean scowl that she adored greatly.

‘You’ve got blue eyes.’ She said in a hushed tone as she stared into his eyes.

‘You’re very observant.’ Logan said sarcastically with a small chuckle leaving his lips. ‘What is it that they call you?’

My Stormsy. Hey there, my lil’ thundercloud. Hang on lightning bolt! Stormy. 

‘Oro—‘ she sniffed, ‘Forgive me but, I don’t think you’d be able to say my name, white boy.’ She scoffed.

Logan raised his brow, ‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

She tried to muffle her giggle but it fell through, ‘Ororo.’

His brows rose and he blinked hard once.

‘Oro—OK, do you have a nickname?!’

Ororo’s small smile from her giggle had turned into a charming grin as laughter escaped her, ‘Yeah,’ she sighed softly. He was just like him. From his facial expressions to how effortlessly hilarious he was. She was comfortable near him.

‘Storm. Just call me Storm.’

‘Now that sounds… do-able.’ His smirk curled up into a small smile before he felt a raindrop fall upon his shoulder. They both looked up at the ceiling. Another fell on his forehead.

‘Well, that would explain the weather.’ Then wiped his head free of the water and looked back over at her, then it clicked. He was a terrible host.

Her white eyes began to fade into her brown ones.

Glancing down at the barf, he then glanced back at her, ‘You must be starving.’

‘No, no. It’s OK, I’ve been too much trouble already just—‘

‘No, I insist. You haven’t ate—‘

Wrrrrr. Ororo slapped her hand against her stomach as it sang its hunger song, as if she could shut it up like a finger to a set of lips. She snatched her eyes away from his gaze and shut them in defeat.

‘Mmm. I thought so. Alright, up, up, up.’ He took his large hands and helped her to her feet. ’

Rolling her eyes at his condescending tone, she pushed herself up to her feet with his help.

‘Ya alright?’ He asked as he slowly pulled his hands away.

‘Yeah,’ The electricity vanished once again within her, ‘Thank you.’

‘Mmm,’ his head fell to the side, ‘Don’t mention it. Look, I’m gonna get this cleaned up—‘ 

‘James, please—‘ she paused. 

He looked down at her for a long moment. ‘You’re the only one who can get away with calling me that.’ Turning away from her he walked towards the far corner of the garage. 

Ororo let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. Were they all the same in every universe? Hardheaded and guileless. Arguments were always challenging with him. 

‘You don’t have to clean up after me, I'm not some kind of damsel in distress.’

‘Well,’ he scoffed as he picked up a bucket and a mop, ‘You were just kind of sleeping beauty for ‘bouta month. I’d say you’re pretty damn close enough. Oh, and— Aurora… mind easing up on the rain until we get the food here?’ 

Her mouth fell before she stammered over her words. ‘We—I—‘

Wait a minute did he just call me beautiful? Damn, they are just alike. 

And he left her inside of the garage to retrieve water for the bucket.

***

Ororo did not in fact keep the rain in check. Instead, when she went back into the cabin she found herself missing James more and more. But, how could she miss him when he was right outside? 

Oh, she was so confused. Stuck in a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to count her blessings. Who knows what would’ve happened if he didn’t find her. She could’ve been poked and pried at beneath wandering eyes. Chopped up in itsy bitsy pieces and thrown in a particle accelerator to be sold to the highest bidder.

At least that was more humane than the chaos that ensued on her world. 

A knock echoed in her bedroom and the sound of the knob twisting followed.

Ororo was bent over the vanity, checking for any oddities that the portal could’ve left her with. So far, so good. The door creaked open and she turned torso to the side.

‘Hey—whoa—‘

With her voluptuous rump in view, she rested her chin on her fist, ‘Your mama ever taught you to knock? What if I was naked?!’

‘Well for one, I did knock. And my mama, didn’t exactly raise a gentleman if you want me to be honest. Come, I’ve got Chinese.’ 

***

The pair sat in silence as they indulged on their take out. Ororo did her best not to inhale all of it so she ate slowly.

Logan chuckled, ‘That’s cute!’ 

Shit, he was on to her.

‘Mmm? What?’ She grumbled as she placed her hand over her lips so that she wasn’t spitting out food.

‘Oh nothing. It’s just you’re trying so hard not to kill all of your food. Eat! Trust me, you definitely need it more than I do.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She said as she stifled her giggle and took another bite out of her food. 

‘Right.’ He snickered and took a sip of his beer. 

The dining room grew quiet once again, soft thunder filled the silent void between them. Not necessarily on purpose but she was studying him. They were eating sweet n sour pork. 

James hated pork. He hated the smell, the salty-ness, the texture and the tummy ache and headache that it gave him after it all. She remembers having to cave in to buying turkey bacon. 

The things you do for love. The sacrifices you make.

James was also right handed. Everything he did started with his right side and eventually the left would aid it. Not that the left was as strong as the right, but when it came to swinging his claws, it always got the job done.

This Logan was an ambidextrous individual. Using both of his hands to work into his food without looking funny. It was so natural.

‘I can feel you burning a hole in my face.’ He murmured as his bright blue hues remained glued to his plate.

It was then when she finally blinked, ‘sorry you just— you just remind me of someone I—‘ she paused as her head fell into her lap.

Logan’s eyes flickered up at her for a second, reading her like a book. ‘Boyfriend?’

She remained quiet.

‘Yeah, I know that look. Sported it a few times myself. Would you like to talk about it?’

Oh she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Should she start with Mystique mercilessly murdering Senator Robert Kelly? Or how her blood contributed to the industrial process of the Sentinels that killed mutants or threw them into concentration camps? How this Logan sitting in front of her could be one of hundreds and maybe thousands of variants of her dead lover?

That was a lot to take in. He wouldn’t even believe her.

‘I—Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start.’

‘I’ve got nothing but time.’

You take up all my time, Lightning Bolt. A punishment when I have to leave but a reward when I come back home to you. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let out a gentle breath. ‘I’m —‘ Ororo tried to process it herself. If she hadn’t lived it, it wouldn’t have even made sense to her either. 

‘This is going to sound crazy.’ 

‘Trust me, I’ve seen and heard crazy. There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already heard.’ 

He mustn’t be so sure.

Even that little comment was something James would’ve said. Verbatim. 

‘Alright.’ She sat up straight and let out another breath of air, ‘I’m not from… here.’

Logan sat quietly. She had his full and undivided attention.

‘I’m not from… here.’ She repeated.

‘Oookaaaay, I think I got that the first time.’ He sighed and folded his arms together. ‘What do you mean?’

Damn it was a lot harder to say than she thought. Perhaps she try a different approach. She would talk about… him.

‘My boyfriend… he uh— he was one of a kind. Smart, goofy, sweet… he was everything I dreamed of. He uh— and his brother had it rough. His family was well off… and in most cases the mother and father weren’t around much thus, was raised by their nanny. One night, some man comes into their home and kills their father. It was then when he discovered his powers. He grew—‘ 

Ororo glanced down at Logan’s fist as his fingers tapped against the table cloth. 

‘Claws.’ Her gaze rose to his once again. ‘He stabbed the man in hopes of getting to avenge his father… but it was then revealed to him that the stranger was in fact he and his brother’s biological father.’

Logan stared at her in complete horror. But he remained calm.

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

‘What then?’ He asked before picking up his beer once again. 

‘He and his big brother ran away. Fought in World War II. Years later he met me at Xavier’s School of Gifted—‘

‘Youngsters.’

‘Youngsters.’ She repeated slowly. 

He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, ‘How do you— How do you know all of that?!’

Swallowing her spit, Ororo pressed her lips together, ‘I know — so much more, Logan.’

‘So what, do you read minds like Charles?!’ His voice was a little bit more stern than before.

‘Ja-Logan, it’s not like that! I—I come from a different timeline!’

His eyes grew in disbelief and he raised his hands, ‘Alright. That’s enough sweet n sour pork for you. Now you’re just talking out of your ass.’ He reached over to grab her container but she grabbed his wrist tightly. It was heavy. Just as she thought.

‘Has it ever occurred to you why or how a complete stranger would know your name?!’ 

‘Maybe you’ve been looking at my mail?!’

‘Your name is James Howlett! You had a brother named Liev, also named as Sabertooth—‘

‘What?!’ He chuckled.

‘You were born 1882! Here in Alberta, Canada.’

‘These are all things you can look up on google sweetheart.’ He said as he gently pulled his fist away.

‘That would make sense if I could use google in my sleep!’ She bit back. She watched as he pulled her styrofoam container away. ‘And I don’t think you added your Adamantium skeleton to the census.’

I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand before the lord of song

With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

He stared at her for a moment before swallowing hard.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? That metal doesn’t even exist.’ He added as he carried off their take out to the kitchen.

Now, she was annoyed. She folded her arms across her chest and slouched back against the wooden chair with her full lips in a slight pout. That was until she realized what he said.

‘Wait—‘ she quickly stood to her feet and walked into the kitchen, ‘I never said anything about Adamantium being metal!’ 

Logan opened the refrigerator to place the containers inside, ‘You didn’t? Well, it sounds like it would be metal. The “Tium” at the end of it adds the razzle dazzle.’ 

Ororo was growing irritated with his banter. So she snatched the refrigerator door handle and slammed it, not caring much if the food was in there properly. Her backside was pressed firmly against the cool stainless steel.

‘Hey!’ He glared at her.

‘You asked me if I wanted to talk about it and I AM—‘

‘I didn’t ask you for a damn biography on my life!’

Her head fell to the side before looking down at his fists. 

‘Show me.’

Logan stepped back, his thick brows tugging into one. ‘Show you what? There’s nothing to show you!’ 

‘I want to see them! Show me!’ 

‘Lady, you’re really losing it right now.’

‘I WANT TO SEE THEM— NOW!’ She exclaimed as her eyes glowed white with lightning and she raised her hand to cast a lightning bolt at his chest. 

The white electricity sent him flying back against the wall, leaving a large cave in, in its place. He fell to his hands and knees as he groaned and howled in pain. White lightning bolts danced and trickled around his torso, arms and neck. ‘GUH—AAUURGH!’ 

She hadn’t realized what she’d done until it was too late. ‘Oh my god! James!’ Ororo rushed over to him but stopped in her tracks when she heard the unsheathing of his blades. 

She blinked away her glowing eyes as he painfully pulled himself up to his feet. Bubbles of saliva dripped from between his teeth. At his sides were those infamous Adamantium claws. They were beautiful. 

She glanced up at him in caution as she began to slowly approach him. 

Logan growled, taking a step back as he breathed heavily through the pain. 

‘James please, I’m sorry! I know all of this sounds crazy ok? You have to believe me.’

‘B-believe y-you?! Hell, I d-don’t even know you!’ He sputtered through the pain.

The words pained her, ‘I-I deserve that. But I know you.’ She finally walked to him and reached out to wrap her small hand around his fist. Logan turned his head away from her.

Maybe there's a God above,

but all I've ever learned from love,

was how to shoot at someone who out drew you.

And its not the cry you hear tonight,

its not somebody who's seen the light.

‘In a different time— you loved me. And looking at you now…’ she placed her hand against his jaw and turned his gaze back towards her, ‘Means that I have a second chance. Think about it, you went all the way to Vancouver … you had no idea I was there but you came there for me.’

Logan stared down at her, his heaving panting began to slowly return to normal.

‘I know that you hate New Age music, I know that your hobbies include choking down cigars and chopping wood. I know that you love riding your bike on sunny days in the mountains! I know that you dreamed of living in a small cabin like this one.’ Her voice cracked as she did her best to fight back her heartbreak. He never got to see the life he deserved.

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

‘I know that you’ve moved far away to keep from hurting others. I was there, Logan.’

Ororo’s words were almost inaudible; being choked up with tears, she stared up into his eyes as she fought hard not to cry again. 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Sheathing his blades back into the safety of his knuckles, he reached up to grab her fist gently into his large hand. 

‘How much did you love me—him?’

‘Oh James…’ her eyes fluttered as a thick warm tear fell down her cheek. ‘With all of my being…’

Those words ached him a little as if he knew that she did, as if he witnessed her love for him. He’d fallen in love many times. But they never amounted to anything in the end. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Maybe—

If we’re meant to be— we’ll be.

Ororo burst into a gut wrenching sob before Logan brought her into his strong, heavy arms. He rested his cheek atop her head as she soaked his filthy wife beater. 

Hallelujah. 

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Idk what brought this on (and it's everything but edited), but I couldn't get it out of my head, so enjoy!

Maid of Honor!reader x Best Man!Simon Riley

The wedding had been beautiful - the sun shone brightly and the skies were a bright, cloudless blue. The gentle breeze that had ruffled the dress of the bride perfumed the air, the lingering smell of the flowers attached itself to everything in the vicinity.

Ava and Johnny were quietly married in the presence of their family and a select few friends. You had been among that group - having been Ava's best friend since you were both little girls. You played dolls together, braided each other's hair, held each other when you cried. It was only natural that you were chosen to be her maid of honor.

Johnny's best man had been his friend Simon. You hadn't met each other before the rehearsal dinner the night before and to say that you'd already formed a strong opinion would be putting it lightly.

You were balancing precariously on the edge of a tall ladder, draping tulle across the large chandelier in the middle of the room. Your tongue poked out at the corner as you tried to steady yourself. You reached out just a bit further when you suddenly feel yourself being jostled. Your brows furrow and you glare down at whoever it was that had run into you.

"Hey!" you bark, your fingers curled desperately around the slope of the light fixture above you. Your heart raced in your chest as you fought to steady your quick breathing. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" The man looked up and narrowed his gaze in on you, not looking amused. "You're not supposed to stand on the top cap of a ladder."

"And that gives you the right to knock into it?" you fire back, your cheeks flushed.

Slowly and discreetly you try to step down a wrung. Your foot slips and you find yourself free falling through the air. You yelp, your eyes closing on their on volition. The fall is short, stopping abruptly as you're caught mid-air. Strong arms are around your middle, the man you were just berating now holding you to his chest, your feet dangling off the floor.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically, your eyes sliding open to find the man still staring at you. The look of indifference was now gone, replaced with a slight smirk.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice lower now that you were closer to him.

You nod, swallowing the fear you were feeling. He allows you to slide down his front, keeping his gentle hold on you until your feet were firmly on the floor. You take a small step back away from him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassment. "You know, you really should watch where you're going."

"And you should be more careful."

The flash of a the camera broke you from your thoughts. You were smiling for the photographer, your hand on Simon's chest as he posed beside of you. You could feel him staring down at you, but you paid it no attention. You quickly wrapped up the pictures and then went to find your seat, sighing as you saw the nameplate beside your own.

"Can't escape you, can I?" Simon's voice crooned in your ear.

You plop down into your seat and drain your glass of wine. "What are you, a mind reader?"

Simon chuckles lightly and sinks into his seat. If the way his fingers pulled at the collar of his shirt was any indication, he was just as uncomfortable in his tie as he looked. You arch a brow at his incessant pawing. "You gonna fight your tie all night or take it off?"

He gives you a small glance, but says nothing. You huff and reach over, your fingers picking apart the knot in his tie, undoing it with ease. You fold it up and lay it on the table by his plate.

You eat in silence, listening to the soft music that played in the background. It wasn't long before the bride and groom had their first dance. You can't fight the cheek-aching smile that curls your lips as you see them move about the room. It wasn't smooth, by any means, neither of them had any dancing experience, but it was so very in tune with the couple.

You swallow back a wave of tears as you see your best friend lean up and place a sweet kiss on her new husband's lips. You take a quick picture with your phone, knowing how she'll treasure that moment in the years to come, and then wipe at your eyes with your napkin. You chance a glance at Simon and see him watching you.

"What?" you ask him quietly.

He shakes his head, the movement so small you barely noticed it. "I didn't say anything."

"You're looking at me funny," you accuse him softly. "You gonna make fun of me for crying?"

"Course not," he defends himself with a small shrug. "It's just... this is the first time I've ever seen you not actively wanting to punch someone."

You can't stop the snort of laughter that follows. You try to hide your grin behind your napkin, but you know you've been caught by the look on his face. He looks smug, like he'd accomplished something. You relent, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "Touché."

It's quiet for a moment before Simon speaks again. "You know, I don't go to many weddings-"

"Obviously," you add, your lips still twitching upwards.

Simon narrows his eyes again, "-but I do know you're supposed to dance. Humor me?"

You're shocked, but you nod and take his hand, following him to the dance floor. You fall into a simple rhythm, a slight sway around the floor. Simon is gentle with you, his hands firm, but soft in his hold. He clears his throat and says, "You clean up nice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, scrunching your nose at him.

Simon's cheek puff as he grins. "You should. It's the best I can do."

A laugh escapes you again, the volume of it drawing a few confused looks your way. You notice Ava and Johnny looking at you, both of them wearing face splitting grins. Your eyes widen and the hand you had on Simon's shoulder quickly covers your mouth. You shrink slightly, almost as if you're trying to hide behind his large frame, your cheeks burning.

"Why're you hidin'?" Simon laughs, his hand on your back firmer, guiding you back to your natural height. "Come back up here."

You straighten up, your eyes on Ava's across the room once more. She sends you a wink and a thumbs up. You shake your head and look back up at Simon, the fairy lights twinkling in your eyes. "Ava and Johnny seem to have their hearts set on something happening between us, don't they?"

Simon glances over at them, too, and Johnny wags his brows at him. Simon huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Johnny has been talkin' about it for months."

The liquid courage from the wine you'd had during the dinner burned hot in your veins. You rake your eyes back up to his. He was handsome - tall, well built, the tattoos you saw peeking out from beneath his sleeve - you'd be lying if you said he wasn't your type, even if you did get off to a bad start. "Well... we can't disappoint them on their wedding night, can we?"

Simon's eyes widen, and it's the biggest reaction you'd gotten out of him the entire night. His tongue darts out and wets his lips before he speaks. "No, I don't believe we can."

You let your hand fall from his shoulder, running down his arm to grip his hand. You curl your fingers around his and guide him along with you, out the doors of the reception hall of the hotel and toward the elevators. Your footsteps were quick, your heart pounding in your ears. "We're good friends."

Simon follows behind you with a nod, his eyes never leaving you. "The best."

[thescarletnargacuga]

Could we get a cute little one shot for Harlequin of Cade being an awesome big brother to Anya (the Jesterdoll kid) for Specter :)

A/N:AAAAAA-YOU'RE SPOILING MEEEEE!!

HALF SIBLINGS, FULL FAMILY

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

Harlequin AU credit: @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

MEET ANYA and CADE

WARNING: NONE

~~~

Cade sprinted through the mansion halls and up the stairs to his shared bedroom with Anya. He burst through the door, startling his younger half sister from her book.

"ANYA, ANYA, ANYA!! THE TREEFORT IS DONE! COME ON!" He jumped up and down, pointed back through the door he nearly knocked off the hinges.

"Really?" She put down her book, careful to bookmark her page, and grabbed her teddy.

"YEAH! We have a real fort to play in this time! Come on, come onnnnn!!!" He ran in circles by the door.

Anya smiled and went to follow but Cade impatiently grabbed her hand and ran with her outside.

It was a beautiful day. Spring was in full swing and everything around the manor grounds was vibrantly green and alive with bloom. The treehouse was built on the sturdiest tree on the edge of the small forest on property closest to the mansion, in plain view of any windows.

The miniature two-story structure was built around the trunk of the tree. A wrap-around balcony offered a scenic view from all sides. It had two slides, a straight slide from the first floor and a spiral slide from the second. It had a zipline connected to another distant tree that would take them to the ground. Two swings hanging below. A rock climb as an alternative way to get inside from the ladder.

Cade let go of Anya to climb up the ladder and check out the inside. It was huge! While the inside was plain, it wasn't empty. They had play tables and chairs and toy boxes and drawing boards on the walls and a small swing inside. A short staircase led to even more space on the lofty second floor. The windows were open, letting in light and the breeze, but he saw small lightbulbs on the ceiling and the balcony.

"Woooooow..." Cade quietly exclaimed. This was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.

"Eh...urg-" Anya struggled up the ladder with her teddy.

Cade heard her and helped her up. "There you go. Isn't this place cool??"

Anya looked around with a smile. "Yeah! We could have so many tea parties up here." She pictured filling one of the toy boxes with her dollies and bringing books up to read in the swing by the sunshine.

"Heck yeah, we can! And we can race down the slides! And- oh my gosh, a zipline!! I've always wanted one of these!" He ran to the drop point on the balcony and grabbed the rope with a small wooden circle seat to ride down. "Hey, Anya, you wanna go first?"

Anya squeezed her teddy and stepped back. "No, thanks."

Cade shrugged. "Okay. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" The zipline was everything he hoped it would be; fast and fun all the way down. The cord widened to a slow stop before his feet touched the ground. "THAT WAS AWESOME!!" He shouted back at Anya, watching him from the balcony. "YOU SHOULD TRY IT!!"

Anya nervously looked at the long line down. "....no, I'm okay." From her vantage point, she saw a large lumbering figure emerging from the shade of the trees. She gasped. "CADE!! LOOK OUT!!"

Cade spun around to see Kingr coming out of the forest, covered in twigs and loose leaves. "Uncle Kingr!! Look! We have a tree fort now!" He jumped up and down as he excitedly pointed at the new playhouse.

"I see! Good for you to have such a strong fortress at such a young age." Kingr beamed with pride.

Cade's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Bet you can't get us inside!" He sprinted away and scrambled up the ladder, giggling the whole way.

The invitation to play caught Kingr off guard but he gladly accepted. "Oh, can't I?" His four arms snaked out from his back as he encroached in the kids' fort.

"Hide, Anya! He's gonna get us!" Cade rushed inside to go to the second floor.

Anya smiled and playfully screamed as one of Kingr's hands tapped along the edge of the balcony nearest her. She ran along the circling balcony, only to be stopped by another hand crawling at her. She ducked inside and went upstairs with Cade.

They both screamed and squealed and laughed as Kingr's hands playfully followed them around. He eventually got both of them, gently holding one in each hand and reels them down to him. "Gotcha."

"No fair, Uncle Kingr!! Your arms are too long!" Cade struggled against the light grip on him.

"You dared challenge me. Of course I'm going to use all of the assets at my disposal." He chuckled. "Who made this marvelous structure anyway?"

"Z did!" Cade answered. "They said they would do it, and they got it done so fast!"

"Have you thanked them yet?" Kingr arched a brow.

Both children looked sheepish. "No..." Anya said quietly.

"Then that is your next mission. Operation: gratitude." He looked around and spotted Z coming out of their residence. "There they are, go say thank you, but don't get too close. They can't see you if you're underfoot." He released them and Cade immediately bolted towards Z. Anya followed at a walk.

"Z! HEY, Z!" Cade waves his arms to get the massive puppet's attention.

Z stops and looks down at the comparatively tiny child. They weren't going to move an inch until they were sure Cade and Anya were clear of their footpath.

"Thanks for AWESOME TREEFORT!!" Cade fidgeted in place, still having way too much energy to burn.

Anya caught up. "Yeah! We love it!"

Z nodded. "I'm glad you like it." Their heart warmed from the admiration for their work. A constructor's pride that she could never quite deactivate.

"Did somebody say TREEFORT!?" A voice surprised them.

"JAX!!" Cade and Anya cheered at the sight of their favorite playmate. Cade immediately goes in for a tackle, only to be caught and hoisted onto Jax's shoulders. Anya runs in to hug his leg. Jax pats Anya on the head before scooping her up in his arm.

"What kind of trouble are you squirts getting into today?" Jax took long legged strides towards the treefort. Kingr had moved on elsewhere.

"We defended the fort from Uncle Kingr!" Cade raised his arms up in victory.

"Impressive!"

"I wanna go down the slides." Anya said quietly. "Will you go with me?" She gripped the lapels of Jax's coat.

He could never say no to her, especially when she gave him such baby doll eyes. "Of course. Which one do you want to do first?"

"The...the big one that spins around."

"How brave." He encourages her with a smile. "Chompers here can race us down the other one."

"YEAAAAH!!" Cade kicked his legs with excitement.

Jax's flexible body noodles down the slide with ease. Despite the spiraling slide being higher up, they beat Cade to the ground several times. When Anya had the courage to go down the slide alone, Jax waited at the bottom to catch her. "You did so good!" He cheers for her as he lifts her up in the air. She giggles and reaches out to him for a hug. He holds her close and squeezes warmly. Anya gives him a kiss on the nose with her teddy bear. A part of him heals in that moment.

"Oh boy! Snacks!!" Cade suddenly says and runs at Gangle, approaching with a tray of refreshments.

"Hello, young sir Cade." Gangle greeted with a gentle smile. She lowered the tray and let him take his choice of snack and drink. "Are you having fun?"

"THE BEST!!" He tossed the snack in his mouth and monched it loudly.

Anya joins and takes only a drink. "Thank you, aunty Gangle."

"You're very welcome, young miss Anya." She raised the tray back up and offered it to Jax. "Would sir Jax care for a snack?"

"I already do." He winked.

Gangle nearly dropped the tray, her mask flushing with flustered patterns. "Oh, my... Not in front of the children." She whispered.

Both Anya and Cade were completely oblivious to the conversation, enjoying their refreshments.

"I'll take one." Pomni grabbed a finger sandwich from the tray and popped it in her mouth.

"Oh! Of course, Madam Pomni! Have as much as you like."

"You really don't have to call me that." Pomni said through the food in her mouth. "We're friends for fu-" She spots her kids watching and clears her throat. "-for crying out loud."

"I insist!" Gangle asserted her stance. "You are the wife of the Master of the Manor! It's only proper."

Pomni rolled her eyes and popped in another mini sandwich. "Whatever you say."

After Cade finished his snack he wrapped his arms and legs around his mother's leg. "Play with us!" Anya joined him, grabbing Pomni's other leg. "Yeah!! Pleeeeeeease?"

"Fiiiiine, since you asked so nicely." Pomni smiled and tried walking with both kids clamped to her shins. It was slow and awkward but she was making progress to the swings under the treefort.

"Welp, looks like I've been replaced." Jax chuckled and put an arm around Gangle. "How about you and I go see what there is to eat in the pantry."

The tray clattered lightly as Gangle's hands shook. "That- that sounds like a wonderful idea, sir Jax." The patterns on her mask rorschached wildly on her cheeks as she left with him.

Pomni alternates pushing Cade and Anya on their swings. Cade insisted on going higher with every push, Anya was happy with a light swing.

Ragatha and Caine were having tea in the garden, watching Pomni and the children. Ragatha poured him a cup and he sipped it without adding any alcohol. He sighed contently. "I don't know about you, but I feel like we won at life."

Ragatha smiled, looking at Pomni and Anya. "I couldn't agree more."

Bubble hovered nearby. "Congratulations to you both for fucking the Harlequin and winning." He sniggered.

Ragatha spat her tea. "BUBBLE!!"

"I WILL DEACTIVATE YOU IF YOU DON'T LEAVE THIS INSTANT!!" Caine blustered at the moment being ruined by his snarky butler.

[slasherhaven]

The Devil you Know

Otis Driftwood x Reader

CW: Typical Otis things, violence, death, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, manipulation

Not really happy with how this came out but here's a little snippet from a larger story that's been whirling around in my head for a bit!

The door creaked on its hinges, the light breeze causing it to repeatedly tap against the wall. It was open and the road was right there, stretching out endlessly. Even RJ’s truck was sitting beside the house, keys probably still in the ignition.

The door was open, the road was right there, and so was a truck. And yet your feet remained glued to the floor.

All you had to do was move, one foot in front of another. Get to the truck. Even if there were no keys, you could run. Even if it was hopeless, not another soul for miles, you could try. You should try.

Instead, you just stood in the doorway, staring out as all hell broke loose in the basement.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on down there and you didn’t want to think about it too hard. RJ had towed a car up to the house, a young couple having car troubles and needing some assistance. Some good old southern hospitality. You wished you could have warned them, but you hadn’t dared say anything. You couldn’t, not when Mama was fussing over how kind you are for bringing these strangers some refreshing lemonade. Not when Otis was still eyeing you from his seat until you set the tray down as he could pull your stiff frame down onto his lap.

They were all busy now, dealing with their latest victims. They were all busy and you were unsupervised. You could run. Should run.

You remained still. The outside seemed too vast, too impossible.

You were snapped out of your warring thoughts when a strong hand grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

You recognized the face immediately, the man that RJ brought in. He was a large man, who seemed even larger as he loomed over you, which was probably how he had managed to get back upstairs in the first place.

Blood pounded in your ears so you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You watched his mouth moving, trying to make sense of it but he was talking too fast. Even though you could hear what he was saying, you read his expression.

He was angry. Fearful, sure, but also furious.

His grip on your arm tightened, not loosening when you flinched and hissed. It would add to the litany of bruises, you were sure.

As he tugged you towards him, you acted reflexively. You thrashed to get out of his hold and attempted to pry his hand off of you, digging your nails into his hand and arm hard enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

You could finally make out some of his words, the harshness of them making you panic more. The feeling of being trapped, his bruising grip on your arm, the way he grabbed at you with his other hand.

“Get off me!” You fought and shouted, cheeks sticky with tears.

But this man was larger than you, stronger than you, and easily knocked the wind out of you by slamming you into the wall beside the open front door. Pinning you there.

Suddenly his grip went limp and the anger faded from his eyes, his words falling silent.

Your chest was heaving with uneasy breaths as the man collapsed to his knees before falling over on his side, blood pooling around his body and seeping into the floorboard.

Your vision was hazy, the whole room spinning around you.

The only thing in perfect focus was Otis. Standing just behind where the other man had been with a dark look on his face. He was covered in grime and blood, his knife left behind in the spine of the corpse at your feet.

“O-Otis…”

He said something, his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything just like before. The ringing in your ears even louder now. You watched, eyes wide and hands shaking, as Otis spat at the corpse, his words coming harsher even if you couldn’t really make them out. He was baring his teeth now.

The walls were still spinning and the floor was moving, the only constant was Otis. 

He was your anchor.

You didn’t even realise you were moving until it was too late, your body acting on instinct. You managed not to trip over the body between you both before yours collided with Otis, your arms clinging around his waist and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Otis, he…I…what…”

Clinging to Otis’ steady frame, you feel still finally. You could still smell the gore on him but it reminded you of where you were, it grounded you. It anchored you even more when you felt his arms slow encircle your body.

“Don’t go crying on me, darlin’,” his voice was teasing, almost mocking, but you didn’t care. The threat was gone and the world was steady, you could breathe easily again. Nothing else mattered.

“Shush, Bunny, everything’s alright now,” Otis cooed, actually managing to soothe you some despite his sarcastic drawl.

“I’m here, I’ve got you. Nobody fucking touches what’s mine, right?”

It shouldn’t have brought you any comfort and yet it did. There was a time where those very words would have made your skin crawl, but now you found yourself burying your face further into Otis’ sullied shirt.

Seemingly seeing no further need to indulge your need for affection or reassurance, Otis unwound his arms from you and pushed you away by your shoulders.

For the first time you were able to catch him off guard, moving with lightning speed as you clutched at his arm. “Please, don’t. Otis, don’t leave, I’ll do anything, please, just…” you could already feel your breath quickening again in panic.

“Aw, silly Bunny,” Otis smirked with too many teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “C’mon, Mama will sit with ya.”

“No,” you felt a sob catch in the back of your throat, suddenly desperate to not have Otis out of your sight. He was the only thing keeping you stable.

“Oh, you just want Ol’ Otis all to yourself,” Otis’ smirk somehow grew as he dragged a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the fresh tears, the drying blood on his hand leaving a pink streak in its wake. “Why didn’t ya just say so? You can help me deal with this fucker then, then we can check in on Baby. She’s playing with his little bitch right now, maybe she’ll save some of the fun for us.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of actually partaking in the horrors that the Firefly family enacts but the dread you felt from the thought of leaving Otis’ side was overwhelming.

You nodded shakily before you could stop yourself.

Blood and gore squelched under your feet at Otis led you away from the still open front door but you clung to his hand all the same. Otis was dangerous and you had almost forgotten just how dangerous everything else could be.

Otis was deranged and dangerous and you never really knew when he would snap but he also protected you. He didn’t let anyone touch what belonged to him, so as long as you were in his clutches, you were safe from everything but him.

[mykneeshurt]

Pray

Image by - emmakatka on Flickr

Priest AU

Father Keegan Russ x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut Heavy use of religious imagery, sexualising religion (Christianity/Roman Catholicism), so much smut and blasphemy, all chapters are explicit but all consensual

A/N - I’ve kept this as AFAB as there are no pronouns used, however you are a nun. Which is a female vocation, so if this needs to be changed to female please let me know! This was inspired by joyceartworks on instagram, her nun series is one of my favourite pieces of artwork.

———

You stepped off the coach, into a small beaten up town in the middle of the Appalachians. It was late afternoon, verging on evening as the sun set behind the mountain range in the distance. The trees were starting to turn, in front of you was a beautiful valley, filled with reds, oranges, browns as the autumn took hold of the sleepy town. The town looked run down, eerily quiet even. Holding the tunic of your habit you fought against the strong breeze which suffocated the town.

A white church sat in a field opposite the coach stop, rotting in the deafening silence of the misty mountain town. Gravestones littered the perimeter, each one covered in moss, crumbling back into the earth. A sign next to it read ‘Jesus is Lord. He is coming soon. Repent.’ This would be your home for the next few months, your Reverend Mother had sent you here for your next mission.

‘Help Father Keegan Russ with the souls of the damned.’

You’d met him briefly before on a few occasions, and ever since his piercing ice grey eyes had lingered in your mind. The smirk he gave you when he shook your hand still kissed your skin and the heat from his gaze still penetrated your core. He was going to test your faith, that you knew for certain.

As you entered the church the door closed behind you with a thud. The old wood barely hanging onto life with each use. The floor was stained a dark cherry colour, with stark contrasting white walls. Cracks crept along the structure, the wooden floor creaking beneath your feet with each step. A huge cross loomed over the alter, also a deep cherry colour.

Darkness soon slithered through the windows of the Church, a cool draft following it. The pre-lit candles on the walls illuminated the room with a golden glow, shadows danced in the dark corners where the light refused to touch. Each flame danced with the chill that filled the old building.

A door opening at the side of the altar made you jump. Clutching your chest you spun around only to see Father Russ emerge from his quarters. ‘Ah! You’re here!’ He bellowed as he approached you. He was dressed in all black, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his Roman collar contrasting perfectly against his shirt. It made his eyes pop even more. Almost hypnotising.

Grabbing your suitcase he gestured for you to follow him, both pairs of footsteps echoed in the empty church as he led you to his quarters. You instantly felt the energy shift, his presence permeated your being, not even the rosary you wore could keep him away.

He showed you around his quarters and to your room, which was adjacent to his own. A simple bed, desk and wardrobe adorned your room. A dull orange glow emanated from the single light in the centre of the room. Dropping your suitcase down he leant against the door frame. ‘Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you get freshened up. We can eat then I’ll show you the Church and go through what your duties will be.’

You nodded, giving him a warm smile. But not before casting your eyes over his body, you tried to fight it but you were drawn to him. His biceps bulged under his black shirt, his broad frame nearly filled the door frame, accentuated by his small waist, only adding to his impressive physique.

———

Sometime later there was a knock at your door, opening it you were met with him. An embarrassed look on his face. ‘Father Russ? Is everything ok?’ You asked, trying to fight the heat that bubbled to the surface. ‘Change of plan. I’ll show you the Church now, I forgot to turn the stove on.’ He admitted whilst scratching the back of his neck. Giggling you gave him a bright smile ‘ok, lead the way Father.’

He showed you the confessional booth, where the hymn books were kept, and took you through your duties whilst you stayed here. Sitting on the altar steps you exchanged pleasant conversation, he sat close to you. Thighs spread as he leant on them, watching you from the corner of his eye. ‘Would you like to pray before dinner?’ He offered, as he shifted his posture.

‘Yes Father.’

‘Kneel’ he ordered before he got to his feet. Doing as you were told you knelt before the altar, hands clasped around your rosary. He brought forward the Ciborium, a simple golden cup which held the host. You looked up at him through your lashes, eager to please the man before you. Eager to please God.

Standing over you he peered down into your eyes, an invisible force pulling you deeper and deeper into the temptation of sin. You tried to rid your mind of the impure thoughts that plagued you, you tried to focus on Gods words, you tried to ignore the primal feeling that surged within your core.

God how you tried.

Releasing his hand from the cup he traced his thumb along your bottom lip, along your jaw. ‘May God keep you in enternal life’ he muttered as he pulled your jaw open. You were the picture of innocence, on your knees, doe like eyes, mouth open ready to receive the body of Christ.

But within than innocence a deep wickedness hid within the shadows.

His eyes lit up as he noticed your tongue piercing, ‘and what’s this?’ He asked as he cocked his head to the side, thumb still burning on your lip. Your face changed, from an innocent lamb to a wolf in sheep’s clothing. ‘What the Reverend Mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her’ you purred as you gently kissed the pad of his thumb.

You watched as his breath caught in his chest. Maybe God sent you here to test him. A test you hoped he’d fail.

He placed the host gently on your tongue and watched has it melted in your mouth. You kept your focus purely on him as you swallowed, slowly. Biting your lip as you rose to your feet. You were mere inches away from each other, the empty space in between you bursting with energy.

Reaching down you picked up the host, he raised a brow ‘you know you shouldn’t be touching that.’

‘Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, maybe you should take it back’ you quipped as you placed it on your tongue. Pulling him in by his belt his body slammed into yours.

He regarded you for a second, battling with God, battling with his faith.

Eventually he snaked his hand around your neck pulling you into a kiss, using your tongue you moved the host from your mouth to his. Using your neck he pulled you deeper, closer. Your hands still lingered on his belt, feeling his erection grow beneath the fabric.

You pulled away and watched as he swallowed the host. You searched his icy eyes, the windows to his soul. While his face remained stoic, his eyes had a glint to them. A twinkle. Much like your own. Both of you in this moment wanting to test your God, wanting to give into this sin of lust, wanting to bite the apple.

He moved first, pushing you against the altar. He lifted you onto it with ease, pushing his lips onto yours, unrelenting, unforgiving, all consuming. You kissed him back, arms wrapped around his neck as he laid you down. His hands slipped under your habit, mapping your body beneath your clothes.

Palming at your breasts he felt the unmistakeable presence of a nipple piecing. He groaned into your mouth at his finding, rolling his hips into you. His hard cock slowly rubbed against your cunt as he held your waist, fingertips threatening to bruise your skin. Nipping at his bottom lip he pulled away, ‘I knew God was testing me when he sent you to me’ he smiled.

‘Mmm’ you hummed as you cupped his jaw, ‘seems like we’ve both failed.’

Sitting up you pulled at his belt, desperately trying to get to what you wanted. Hiking up your habit skirt he pulled down your tights, finding beneath them lace adorned panties. ‘God’ he whimpered, already feeling how wet you were for him. ‘Don’t take the lords name in vain Father’ you smirked. He ran a finger along your slit causing a sharp moan to burst from your chest.

Placing his forehead against yours he inhaled your moans of pleasure as he inserted his finger. Cradling the back of your head he held you close, whispering words of praise, words of adoration.

Gazing into his eyes your pupils were blown wide with pleasure, breath heavy and thick as he added another finger. ‘Don’t stop Father, please’ you muttered under a strained breath. Thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy, you said a silent prayer to yourself. Begging God forgiveness, begging him to let you cum.

‘Take me Father, take me here, in front of him, in front of his angels, in front of his cross’ you pleaded, gripping onto his shirt, his neck. He removed his fingers, watching as they glistened in the golden light of the Church. Placing them on his tongue he savoured your taste, his once icy grey eyes now a river of black. ‘Divine’ he whispered beneath his breath.

Unbuckling his belt he released his painfully erect cock, and lined it up to your entrance. With one smooth thrust he pushed into you, leaving you gasping for air at his stretch. ‘Yes Father’ you whined as he pulled your hips off the alter forcing you to wrap your legs around him. Each movement was calculated and swift, adoring rather than punishing.

You leant back onto the alter, eyes fixed on the cross as he fucked you. He watched as you bit your lip, as you gripped the white linen between your fingers, as your eyes rolled. He’d wanted this since the first time he’d met you, spending many a night cock in his hand thinking of you. Thinking of your taste.

It was better than the host.

It was better than the sacramental wine.

Better than forgiveness.

Better than God.

Soft whines fell from your lips as his breathlessness hung in the air. Each slap of skin rung out in the Church, each thrust begged for forgiveness, begged for redemption. He knew he’d spend the rest of his life begging God for absolution of he could keep his cock buried in your perfect cunt.

‘Pray for me Father. Pray for us’ you managed to ask, in between your pants and whines. Pulling out he quickly repositioned you, your back arched against him as he held your throat to his shoulder. Slipping inside you once more as he hovered above your lips.

‘Soul of Christ, sanctify me’ he began … ‘body of Christ, save me - thrust - Blood of Christ, inebriate me; - thrust - Water from the side of Christ, wash me; - thrust - Passion of Christ, strengthen me’ he whispered, his breath tickling your lips. His eyes transfixed on yours, his words being absorbed into your skin.

‘O good Jesus hear me; Within your wounds hide me;’ he said as he added a finger to your clit. ‘Separated from you, let me never be; From the evil one protect me’ he emphasised the word evil as he added more pressure to your clit. You moaned into his mouth, providing him with the very oxygen he needed to live.

‘At the hour of my death, call me; and close to you bid me; That with your saints, I may be praising you forever and ever. Amen.’ As he finished the prayer your orgasm washed over you like a blinding light, your muscles constricted, wound tightly as if round a tree. Your eyes screwed shut as the intense wave of pleasure made you ascend.

He held you close to him still, watching as your face contorted with the ultimate pleasure of lust. His fingers still lightly brushed over your sensitive clit, making you buck from overstimulation. He was close. But this isn’t how he wanted you.

His thrusts slowed as he kissed you, slowly releasing your neck and finally pulling out of you. Breaking the kiss he placed his fingers in your mouth, you ran your tongue over his fingers. ‘Kneel’ he whispered just like he did before. A sign of reverence. Except this time he used his fingers in your mouth to push you down, guiding you.

Kneeling before him your clasped your hands once more watching as he pumped his cock before you. Biting your lip you recited your own prayer. ‘I’m truly sorry for all my sins. Please fill me with your grace.’ After the final word you stuck your tongue out, the silver piercing in clear view. He caressed your jaw as he neared his high, soft whimpers and grunts rang in your ears as he came into your mouth, onto your tongue.

The silky white fluid ran to the back of your throat as you swallowed eagerly. Not wanting to waste a drop. Not wanting displease his holiness, instead wanting to show your devotion to him. His face was flushed as he lifted his head, smiling down on you as he tucked himself away. Giving you his hand he helped you up, kissing you one last time, ‘I fear we may really have to beg for forgiveness for this’ he smirked.

‘Oh I’m counting on it Father.’

—————

A/N - I fucking love Appalachian gothic/mid west gothic it has my heart

Taglist - @tiredmetalenthusiast @glitterypirateduck @lollycotton @00ops1e @cowyolks @soapyghost @dontfearthereaperazura @ghostslillady @luminousbeings-crudematter @villainsoftheweek

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 1 Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

It’s not that weird, is it? 

Knocking on a neighbour’s door that you don’t know on a Friday evening, asking for a screwdriver as your kitchen sink is flooding, damp t-shirt sticking to you and a wet streak through your hair.

No. You shake your head. This resembles nothing like a terrible cheesy porn scenario. It’s fine. This is fine.

(And really, you should know who the maintenance people are in this building… Frankly. It’s your first night in this seriously upscale building. Do they even have maintenance people or is it just personal butlers?)

You self-consciously try to run your hands through your hair, already knowing you look desperately out of place in your new home.

But, god bless her soul, your estranged grandma has pretty much set you up for life. Leaving you a decent inheritance and an apartment in Gangnam. So what if it came with a dodgy sink where the water isn’t so much leaking as gushing out. 

No problem.

You have all the world’s information at your fingertips and countless NewTube tutorials. A lifetime of frugal habits and a can-do attitude means you’re not going to spend more than you need to.

So here you are.

Outside your neighbour’s door.

Putting off looking like a weirdo while every second your new apartment could be resembling more like a swimming pool.

You take a deep breath, steeling your resolve and ring the doorbell.

A faint chime from inside reaches your ears and you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And just as you’re on the verge of leaving and trying someone else, you hear footsteps. Which, you think with unease, sounds irritable. You didn’t even know footsteps could sound irritable.

The door cracks open, just slightly, and the man peering through the gap narrows his black eyes at you. Needs must; you’ll just casually breeze past that.

With what you hope is a winning smile, the words tumble out. 

“Hi, I’m your new neighbour. This used to belong to my grandma but I’m here. Just moved in! Funny story actually, she didn’t take too good care of it so now I have a leaky sink. You can probably tell,” you signal to the state of your hair and clothing, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, words short and terse. “Why are you here?”

“Oh… uh, do you have a screwdriver I can borrow? Flathead please.”

The guy takes one more look at you and shuts the door.

Excuse me? Did he just? Wow.

You’re not really sure what to do, because who doesn’t lend their neighbour a screwdriver? You shuffle your feet, contemplating if you should try the neighbours on the other floor. But what if they shut their door in your face too?

And maybe you should have called a plumber or maintenance already like a normal person. But they likely won't get here for hours. Hindsight is a bitch.

Just as you’re about to skulk away, trying to concoct another plan, the door opens again. Fully this time.

“Here,” the man says, now revealing himself to you and handing over a toolbox.

Holy shit. You take in his tall lean frame, pretty sure you can see his muscles and abs through his shirt what the fuck, the strong jaw and the hair which is this side of mussed, obviously relaxing after a long week. He looks about your age and might be the hottest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Cheeks flushing, you stammer your thanks and after he gives you a slight nod (was that a smirk?), you take your leave.

.

.

Fuck fuck fuck. It doesn’t work. Fuck NewTube and fuck this sink.

What if it floods fully and leaks through to the apartment below. You can’t afford to pay for damages of whatever fancy shit you may or may not have broken.

Your neighbour' door opens for the third time this evening, and the guy holds his hand out expectantly for his toolbox. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. You move it a touch out of reach, a hostage of sorts, as you start to ramble again, this time tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry but I couldn’t fix it. Is there a maintenance or plumbing number you can give me?”

He frowns, your words sinking in and checking out your sorry state.

“Is this going to damage my apartment?”

“No?” The question mark is loud.

“Tell me what is wrong with your… sink.”

You mutter something about hopefully just a leaky valve. Which should be oh-so-simple to fix, according to your troubleshooting skills. Perhaps that is as lacking as your handiness.

With a sigh, he grabs the toolbox out of your hand, fingers brushing yours too quickly before you’re able to comprehend what’s happening, and moves with confident strides towards your place.

.

.

Gun, he answered after you asked his name. You thought he didn’t hear when you asked the first time. The second time he hesitated, a little shifty with his body language. As if his name is a secret.

And as he ducks under your kitchen sink with a screwdriver, head almost fully shoved in the cabinet, vascular forearms showing with his sleeves rolled up, tinkering with something or another; you wonder if anything ever looks out of place in those arms, held in those fingers.

His shirt, which looks painfully expensive with a designer logo plastered all over it, is completely soaked through (dear god, those were his abs that were showing clearly through), now looking tantalising transparent and clinging to his torso.

With his arms lifted, it rides up. Showing a pale strip of skin. All hip bones and muscles and fuck. Fuck.

This is your home. Yours. How are you so incredibly flustered in your own home?

“Wrench.” comes his voice, low and silky. 

“Uhh…” you rummage around and hand him the adjustable tool.

A twist, a creak, and the water slows.

Drying up to a slow leak, then a few drips, then… nothing.

Is this guy an angel or what? Your survey the puddles, body sagging with relief that in hindsight it isn’t too terrible. No lasting damage.

Gun stands up, dusting himself off and you gush your thanks. Pouring your gratitude.

His black eyes shift to you, aloof and apathetic.

“Don’t mention it. It’s a one off. I’m not in the habit of doing favours.”

Huh?

Your jaw hangs open at his attitude as he makes a swift exit without giving you a second glance.

So much for him being an angel.

[obaex]

a little dirty - jj maybank

summary: you find that watching jj work can be very... distracting

words: 800

warnings: fluff, a lil' (very?) suggestive

a/n: just a little something short and sweet! inspired by tuxedo by clare dunne, which is so jj coded i needed to write something for it.

Oh, my man He got them real strong hands And after workin’ all day out in that hot sunshine He comes walkin’ in always lookin' so fine Oh, my heart Lights up like shooting stars He’s like a knight in shining armor with them blue jeans on Dirty white tee and my baby don't need no tuxedo

It was hot.

You were no stranger to the heat of the late summer that rolled off the marsh in waves, but the storm that had blown through the night before left Kildare feeling even more humid than usual, the air heavy like wet blanket. Plus, it had knocked the power out, leaving you without electricity and without air conditioning.

You felt the heat cling to your skin as sweat gathered at the base of your neck and you padded through the house, trying to tidy up and get chores done, reveling in the infrequent breeze that snuck through the open windows.

You could hear JJ in the backyard trying to clear the debris from the storm, including a large tree that had come down and just missed the back porch. You wandered over to check on him, leaning against the doorframe of the open screen door. He was carrying limbs and branches two times his size over his shoulder, hoisting them up and dragging them to the back corner of your property. Even from your vantage point you could see the way the muscles in his arms rippled with the effort.

He was breathing heavily as he made his way back, his chest straining against the fitted white t-shirt he had on that was now doppled with sweat, and streaked with dirt. He lifted the bottom corner of his tee to wipe the sweat off of his face, giving you a tantalizing peek at his toned stomach that lay beneath, his abs glistening with sweat, glinting in the strong sun. Your eyes trailed lower to the clear v-line that trailed into the jeans and boxers that hung low on his hips and you swallowed, a blush finding your cheeks at just how good he looked, even when he was dripping with sweat and covered in dirt.

He dropped his shirt and lifted his head to see you gazing at him. He held a hand over his eyes to see you better, his signature smirk breaking clear across his face as he started to make his way over to you. “Like what you see, pretty girl?” he asked.

Your cheeks blushed a deeper shade of crimson and you bit your bottom lip, breaking his intense gaze to glance at your feet, self-conscious that he had caught you staring.

“Mm’maybe I do” you replied coyly as his wide gait closed the distance between you and he hopped up the porch steps, stopping on the step just below you, leaving you eye level.

Your eyes traced his face, the way his tan skin glistened with sweat and his ocean blue eyes twinkled at you as you reached out to wipe a smudge of dirt off his cheek. At this close distance you could smell his sweat, a salty scent that was distinctly him mixed with the sweet smell of the wood he had been hauling. Maybe it shouldn't be, but to you, it was intoxicating. He was close enough that you could feel the heat coming off of his body and all of yours tingled in response as your heart hammered in your chest and your eyes fell to his lips.

“Do you maybe wanna come inside and not cool off with me?” you hinted, inching even closer to him and his perfect pink lips.

He ducked his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair.

“I would love nothing more, princess, but I’m soaked and I smell, you don’t want—”

“—You have no idea what I want, JJ Maybank” you said, interrupting him as you looped two of your fingers into his beltloops and pulled him flush to you, silencing him by pressing your lips to his.

Your sweaty skin against his suctioned you to each other and the second your lips met, his hands came to cup either side of your face. You could feel his calloused palms on your soft cheeks, could feel the dirt coming off of them and you couldn’t care less as his tongue glided over yours and you hummed in response. His lips were salty with sweat and he was already pressing you backwards into the house, guiding your body with his own towards your bedroom.

His hands left your face and he grabbed the back of your thighs without ever breaking his kiss; your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing you even closer to him as he continued to walk you through your house.

“Not afraid to get a little dirty?” he mumbled in a smile against your lips.

“Not even a little” you replied as he tossed you on the bed.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @voidcameron, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

[soobnny]

imagine (a world like that) — yang jeongin.

trope. exes to not so lovers. bittersweet ending. a story of first loves. jeongin is an idol here.

synopsis. a trip back to busan on his break reunites jeongin with his first and only love — and it has him wondering, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

word count. 3k words

warnings. none, just on the angsty bittersweet side

note. been wanting to write a first love reunion fic for a while (the 1 cameo and a line inspired from everything everywhere all at once). thank u to yun for instigating my terrible thoughts my 4lyfer and to ten for the Beautiful header ur massive big brain talent

Yang Jeongin stands on the train platform, cheeks colored red from the gust of the winter wind that greets him at the station.

He pulls his scarf closer to his nose.

When he decided to travel home by train, he didn’t anticipate it would take three and a half hours to arrive. On normal days, the travel towards Busan from Seoul usually ranged from 2-3 hours, but it took longer than usual due to the snow.

Jeongin doesn’t spend a long time in the station, opting to blend in with the chatter of people around him as he swiftly makes his way to the streets of Sujeong-dong. It’s still snowing, but he doesn’t seem to mind the snowflakes littering his hair and eyelashes.

Instead, he looks up at the sky, trying to see where the snowfall is coming from.

It rarely snows in Busan as it’s located in the least snowy region of Korea, but Jeongin is grateful for the gentle drizzle of white and the cold that’s just enough to leave visible puffs of warm breath when he sighs.

In his pocket, his phone is buzzing with the screen flashing a picture of Chan, probably to ask if he arrived home safely as he hasn’t had the time to send a quick text to their group chat.

Pulling a glove off, he slips his hand in the pocket of his coat, swiping right on the phone call. And it seems his hypothesis is correct when concerned spews bounce off of his phone’s speakers, Chan speaking at an unusually fast pace you’d be convinced he was the main and lead rapper.

He smiles fondly at the obvious care dripping from Chan’s tone, immediately informing the eldest member he had arrived well and intact (with a little teasing) before hanging up the call shortly after.

Jeongin moves through his hometown slower than usual in contrast to his busy, bumbling schedule the past year. He concedes to time, grateful to just be able to slow down for a second and appreciate the gentle snow and the cold breeze without shifting his attention every second.

Knowing his family would arrive home a little later in the day, Jeongin doesn’t feel the pressure to reach a destination right away. Instead, he lets his feet and mind wander to where they felt like going.

He should’ve known himself better to not be surprised at where he’s landed himself in.

On a different day, a few years back, Jeongin could still remember the feeling of a hand gently intertwined with his and the sound of starry laughter on the exact same path.

The memory leaves a foreign feeling in his chest.

Walking up the stairs to occupy a seat on the second floor of the traditional teahouse, Jeongin feels a gust of wind knock straight into his sternum at the sight that greets him. He isn’t to blame. This is the first time he’s seeing you after your teary goodbye’s a few autumns ago, and you seem just as surprised to see him.

He still remembers you as you were when you ended things. Your eyes were strong, but grief persevered in your irises as you told him you understood. Besides, you had been there to hold his hand through every audition, and you knew more than anyone how much he wanted it and how hard he worked towards achieving it.

So, you learned to trade your love for his dreams.

That day, as leaves fell from the trees, so did both of your hearts.

“Jeongin?” Your lips pull into a short smile, although it grows wider the moment you’re able to discern that this moment was real and Yang Jeongin was actually standing a few feet away from you. You could recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Hi.” He remains unmoving as he drinks you in, everything about you down to your movements. Your hair’s a little shorter now, and you preferred a different shade of lipstick.

All he can think about at this moment is how you look so pretty smiling, and how your lips must be so cold from the winter.

“Your hair’s black again. It’s nice.”

His hair is back to its original color, after dyeing it multiple times for comebacks and events, and it falls just above his eyes (with some strands moving past). It’s longer, and he can’t find himself to dwell on your compliment at the thought that you knew his hair wasn’t black before he came home.

A small, shy laugh leaves his lips as he scratches the back of his head. “Figured it needs a little rest before the company decides to dye it again.”

You mirror his laughter — that same starry sound that held light whenever you laughed, the same one Jeongin fell in love with.

You find it humorous how most of your conversations in this teahouse had held frustrations over your highschool, but now he was talking about his company and his hair he never thought to dye years ago.

“Would you like to sit with me?” You’re looking at him with your thoughtful eyes as you gesture the space across from you. On normal simpler days, he would’ve simply made his way towards the seat next to yours — but now you’re considerate enough to ask if he was even allowed to be sitting with you. That maybe you’d be caught and his image would be ruined.

Jeongin’s rushed to decide whether to pass on your offer or pull you back into his life (even if it was just for a few minutes). He finds it isn’t much of a difficult decision as he makes his way to your table, sitting comfortably by the window. He plants himself on the same ground that had given him so many treasured memories with you and that had taught him of hard lessons when he had to let you go.

Jeongin scolds himself for allowing himself to fall right back into you, not that his feelings had ever left. The bitter taste of heartbreak has always sat at the back of his throat, but it has always been easy to hide behind his busy schedules.

Under the guise of time, he convinces himself he’s moved on. Besides, it’s been years since you both said goodbye.

Time is cruel, and it is also one of the biggest liars.

“How have you been?”

You’re well aware it’d only take a five second search to find out what he’s been doing and what his group was up to, but you were genuinely curious to know how he’s feeling about everything.

It’s not like life teaches you to handle fame and pressure at such a young age paired with the peering and judging eyes of strangers who seem to want you more than anyone before.

People were never meant to grow up in such a cruel manner.

Your question snaps him out of his self-pity, but the genuineness in how you ask him has his heart twisting in the most painful way possible. He doesn’t know if the feeling is of love or of grief.

Jeongin doesn’t know how to respond either. He feels the crack in his facade widen, and all he wants is to run in your arms and cry and tell you how difficult it’s been and how horrible it is to forget how your hug feels like.

Instead, he settles with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He doesn’t think he has the right to hold you without your permission anymore.

“I’ve been good.”

His response is genuine. He couldn’t possibly wish for anything else — he was grateful for the opportunity to chase his dreams, for the 7 boys he crafted a family with, for the genuine love and support from so many people all around the world.

When he thinks back at the years, he feels eternally grateful, despite the exhaustion. It just sucked that the universe didn’t have a place for you in all that.

You push him to tell more stories, especially of his world tour, and he tells you how much more humid it is in the United States, or how lovely it is to walk around Japan, or how big the serving size of food is in Europe. He tells you of blue skies and loud screams and how fun it is to perform on stage.

What he doesn’t tell you is how much you would’ve loved to experience all that too. How much more fun it would’ve been if you were by his side.

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought too much. God knows how many nights he’s spent alone with the same questions of what if’s.

“And you? How have you been?”

“I’ve been good too. College feels a little repetitive, but somehow I’m grateful for that.” You hum, sipping at your tea before settling it back down neatly on the table.

An indefinable look flashes on Jeongin’s face when you mention college.

Within seconds, he looks everywhere in the room but you as he nods his head. He doesn’t tell you he doesn’t want to meet your eyes for the fear of seeing the life that could’ve been with you if he hadn’t forgone with his dream.

“You know… I’m so proud of you, Jeongin. I never had the chance to tell you before, but I’m so so proud. You’re so big now, I can’t even hug you anymore.”

His name sounds different falling from your mouth because it holds so much history.

I.N. is two letters he goes by now, but to you, he was still Yang Jeongin — the kid you grew up with, and the boy you end up falling in love with down the line. He wasn’t just a noun that followed a group’s name. He was much more than that.

He was your Yang Jeongin, the boy who defended you from towering bullies, the boy who hugged you as you cried on his shoulder, the boy who held your hand when you were afraid.

And maybe that, paired with the statement of you being proud, is the reason why his lungs twist and his eyes water a little. You’re tempted to reach out for his hand that’s resting on the table, but opt out of it.

“Greatness and success has always been waiting for you, and I’m so happy to see you’ve finally met it.”

There is nothing but truth behind your words. So many restless nights have led him to this moment, and you couldn’t be more happy. You’ve always known on the invisible string that tied Jeongin to success.

“I just wish you’d been there to meet it with me.”

His voice is just above a whisper as he stares down at his lap. You had always played a big role in his self-confidence. When he came to you in the form of a flightless bird, you taught him how to spread his wings so wide that he could finally fly.

“I’ve always been with you. Maybe not in the way you want, but I’ve always been there.” You break a smile, leaning forward against your will to finally tap his hand gently. “And I will always be there.”

His lips twitch, and he moves closer, craving for more of your touch — the touch he’s missed, the one his memory has so carelessly forgotten. You know by the way he stares at your hands that he got the message.

You both don’t say much after that. You simply enjoy your tea with each other’s presence, looking out at the pretty view from the window.

And this moment makes Jeongin so happy. Something as ordinary as sipping tea in the quiet with someone he’s fond of. Something as ordinary as the gentle snowfall in Busan, and the pretty view of the sun slowly starting to set beneath the mountains.

It’s new. But he likes the quiet, and he likes the peace, and he likes being home and having you as company.

He allows himself the time to recollect the moments he had with you in the same stout table with the same pillows on the wooden ground. It’s funny, looking back now, how the sound of your voice and the look in your eyes are no longer the ones with child-like wonder in them, but that of two people who had made it far down the line.

Jeongin’s trip back to Seoul in a few days will strip him of the chance to do ordinary things like this with you again, and the coming months and years will be one of loneliness again — despite being around people who loved him.

A part of him wishes you hadn’t asked him to sit down with him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to relive the grief. He wouldn’t be left to wonder if your lips feel the same as a few autumn’s ago?

He doesn’t want this moment to feel like a distant memory in the years to come too. Will he forget the feeling of your hand gently tapping on his again?

“It was nice seeing you again, Jeongin.”

He lets his gaze drift back to your face, and in your transparent eyes, he sees the same grief persevering. “You’re leaving already?”

“I have classes tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

If you didn’t know him so much, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes fall a little and how his smile grows a little stiff at the mention of you leaving.

You make your way to where he’s seated, and you ask if it’s okay to hug him, and he responds by gathering you in his arms like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it again (because he knows it will be… at least for a long time).

He hugs you with the prospect of memorizing the feeling of your arms around his body and your fingers rubbing gentle circles on his back and your face that fits so perfectly on his neck. There’s a pained look on his face that wants to solicit tears but he doesn’t allow himself to.

He doesn’t want your last memory of him to be teary-eyes.

Jeongin pulls you in his lap and leans back against the window, burying his face deep in your hair and hoping his memory won’t betray him this time.

His back is pressed against the glass, and if anyone were to walk by right now, they’d see him and your silhouette bunched up in his arms but he doesn’t seem to care about any of that right now.

All he cares about is your warmth and how close you are to him right now.

When you move to pull back, he whispers “one more second” as he grabs you back by the arm and presses you against his chest one more time.

His throat itches to tell you he loves you, but doesn’t think he can bear the response he’ll hear from you — whether it was an ‘I love you’ back or not. Especially when he’s leaving again and living an entirely different life than what could’ve been.

In the background, he can make out the high-pitched whistle of the kettle making tea, and the footsteps of customers flooding the teahouse. But all he can focus on is your heartbeat flush against his.

If he closes his eyes, Jeongin can picture himself with his gray hoodie you love so much, and his messenger bag from high school — walking you back and forth to your classes. Maybe he’ll join a sports team in your college, maybe he’d be in the dance program. He can picture himself kissing you again and again so freely, and hugging you just like this.

On his side of the world is life filled with so much opportunity, and everyday is loud like fireworks and extravagant and he could get whatever he could’ve ever wanted, but he finds himself wanting to stay a little longer in your side — where it’s quiet, where he can do the ordinary, where he’s just Jeongin.

When you finally let go from your hug, there’s a stifling silence as you walk to where the stairs are. But before you can make it far, Jeongin’s voice cuts through the winter breeze.

“(Name)?”

“Hm?” You look back one more time.

He breathes in and out.

“In another life, I would’ve really liked going to college with you, just holding your hand and… doing ordinary things.” He confesses quietly, but no matter how soft and vulnerable and shaky his voice is, you can still hear him.

You smile at him, albeit bittersweet.

“I would’ve really liked that too.”

You hope you were able to tell him everything that you needed to, and he hopes you can see in his eyes that he still cares for you deeply, and he will always care for you this much.

There is a sharp feeling in his chest when you finally descend from the steps, and a cry is brewing at his throat waiting to erupt when you’re no longer able to hear him. There is only so much he can do when you’re walking out of his life again.

It has always been his fate to go after his dreams, and it has always been in your fate to let him go.

The teahouse gives him another hard lesson. Perhaps his grief and love was always meant to coexist. That Jeongin can love his life right now, but still grieve over the life he didn’t get to live with the people who are no longer traveling beside him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this.

But he knows, from the way you looked at him for the last time, that there will always be a place in the world that’s waiting for him — not Stray Kids I.N., but just Yang Jeongin. That even when he falls in exhaustion and is stripped off of everything that’s shaped him to be desired by the public, he would still be loved and wanted.

Someone from home will always be waiting for him.

Your distance grows, and all Jeongin can do is stare at you long enough so he can brand you in his memory.

He begs the universe to be a little kinder to the both of you in your next life.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Clipped Wings: Chapter One

Clipped Wings: After living a life in seclusion due to an over protective father, you sneak away to experience life as it really is. Slowly building up the woman you always wanted to be, your quiet life is interrupted when you meet a rather elastic boy and his crew. This is just the beginning of trouble and your carefully crafted life starts to crumble around you. The past never really stays in the past, and now it has come knocking. In more ways than one.  

Warnings: Raw (unedited cause I’m impatient)

To Note: Dracule Mihawk x Reader, NAMED!FemReader, Some physical features have been given (hair & eye color).

Word Count: ~2.3k

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The salt in the air was crisp on this day, cutting through the soft island scent of flowers. You only got this experience up on the bluff overseeing the small cove of the island you resided on. Esmereld Cove was your beautiful home with pristine waters, a lagoon you liked to swim in, and plentiful fruit patches… but it was also your prison. You’d been born on the island, learned to walk and talk on the island, lost your mother on the island, raised to an adult on the island with two nannies and three guards, and had never once stepped foot off the idyllic island. At this rate you’d probably grow old and die on this island as well.

Your father was a paranoid bastard through and through.

You’d been born from a pirate Warlord and a powerful rogue pirate, the combination surely producing an child that could rival those that currently sailed the seas… only the moment your father had taken a look at you he’d swore that no trouble or plight should ever befall you. On the other side of the spectrum, your mother hadn’t cared much for you, running back to the sea the moment she had weened you from her breast. With a wayward mother and busy Warlord father, you had been raised by nannies and protected by the best pirate guards.

Visits from your Warlord father were far and few between for he spent a large amount of time fighting across the Blue and just generally being a pirate. You did have to admit that when you were younger, it had hurt you that he spent so much time away… but when he did come back to Esmereld Cove, he brought back books a plenty and small trinkets to play with. That had been enough for your child self, but when you became a teenager, you started longing for more.

You were bored on this island, you had no friends to talk to, you had no places to visit for the first time, you had nothing new to experience. The pirate in you had started clawing for freedom. It was only natural that a child born from pirates would crave the sea, crave the freedom that it gave, it was cruel to keep you so locked up.

“Almost ready,” You sighed to yourself, leaning back on your palms and enjoying the breeze trickling across your face. It had been an exceptionally beautiful day this day and you had pretty much given Mel, the oldest of your nannies, the slip after lunch. She’d been tutoring you more on lessons of being a lady (you were already well equipped in that area) and you’d decided that you were more interested in feeling grass between your toes than smelling the stuffy library.

Mel was going to be furious once she found you (which would be a while since the old woman hated getting her shoes dirty) and Alanna was far too busy in the kitchen to be chasing after you like she had in your youth. You’d given both nannies a run for their money, your youth had been full of dirty feet, scraped knees, and defiance, but now you simply played the role of a delicate, can do no wrong daughter that needed protecting. In the long run, it was far easier to have them believe you were what they wanted you to be. Precious and weak. Well, you were weak, you could only grow so much on a tiny island. But you wanted to grow strong. As you were sighing to yourself, you heard Mel’s voice calling for you.

“My lady? My lady you must come in! Dinner is ready to be served and you still need to wash up.” Mel’s nagging voice did have reason within it so you pushed yourself to your feet and dusted off the skirt of the dress Alanna had changed you into this morning. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was made from fine fabrics and heaven forbid Mel saw that you’d gotten dirt on it. Again…

“What Mel doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” You mused to yourself before turning around to take the trail back to the manor. It was only a five minute walk for you, the inhabitable part of the island was really that small, and by the time you were dusting off your feet with Gopher watching you in amusement… you were pretty sure that Mel was going to spend tomorrow morning lecturing you for at least an hour. Skirting your way into the manor, you took the servant halls to get to your room and slipped in.

Mel wasn’t in yet, but she would be soon, so it was in your best interest to get a head start on getting ready for dinner. Grabbing your ivory hair brush, you began brushing out your long locks of midnight hair. It was at times cumbersome to have hair this long, but Mel and Alanna had forbidden you from cutting it save for a yearly trim. When you were younger, you had snuck into the study and stolen a pair of scissors… and then proceeded to hack at your hair in defiance. All sharp instruments had been hidden from you after that incident and you had simply just gotten used to having long hair. It was easiest to just follow along and sneak around behind the scenes.

Holding a clump of your soft hair, you worked on a knot that you’d gotten climbing your favorite tree for napping. You managed to get the knot unraveled when the door to your room was opened and Mel came storming in. The old woman’s face was scrunched in anger and she was huffing and puffing. The moment she spotted you innocently sitting in front of your vanity, brushing your hair, her anger disappeared in favor for exasperation. You blinked at her with your long lashes and resumed brushing your hair.

“Where have you been!?” She puffed out, hurrying up to you with tight eyes. “Just because your father no longer frequents this island does not mean you are allowed to run amuck like a heathen!” She scolded you, taking your hairbrush from you to work on the back of your hair. She wasn’t being gentle about it, but certainly wouldn’t damage your hair. “It is expected that you uphold a certain decorum my lady.”

“I just went out to admire the flowers, their blooms are rather fragrant this time of year,” You told her, reaching forward and straightening several of the dainty cosmetic cases laying upon the vanity. It was so superfluous to you, dressing you in such nice clothing, painting your face and donning jewelry, where exactly were you going to go looking so nice other than your dining room? The only ones who would see you were your nannies and guards.

“Your father expects us to raise you with a certain standard of grace and nobility,” Mel snapped, tugging on your hair a little harder as she pulled it back to do something fancy with it. “That means no slouching, walking with poise, the manners of a noble, and no lolly gagging around this island!” You made a small face when she pulled a little too hard on your hair, but remained silent. Mel continued her rant about all the precise details your father wanted in your upbringing because yet again, you were being wily and noncooperative.

“It was just a walk,” You finally murmured as she slid a hair pin into the neat bun she’d made.

“You were suppose to be in the library learning,” Mel tutted, pinning several flyaway hairs down so you looked like the sophisticated lady you were raised to be.

“It seems pointless when I never leave this island,” You pointed out. “What reason do I have to learn all this if I am to remain on Esmereld Cove for the rest of my life?”

“Your father intends to introduce you to the World Government and society. There are many political opportunities for you to hold power of your own and—” and you stopped listening to Mal because you’d heard this speech a million times before. All your life you’d heard about your fathers plan for your future, but nothing had ever come from it. Pirates didn’t get along with each other and there was no way your father would let you anywhere near the Marines.

“I am going to be old and gray before I actual leave Esmereld Cove,” You sighed and leaned your head back. Mel’s face was devoid of emotion, robotic in every way. “Very well, what am I wearing to dinner?”

Mel picked up the hanger resting on your full length mirror and brandished a silken dress you knew all too well. It was violet, layered, and had many jewels and cloth flowers sewn into the bodice and skirt. Your father had gifted it to you on your eighteenth birthday, both fawning and bemoaning over how the color reminded him of your mother. You both had violet eyes and midnight hair, so the violet dress complimented you quite well. But it was rather ostentatious for a dinner where you would be dining alone.

Rising from your seat, you went through the motions of getting dressed, and donning jewelry. Mel fussed over the skirts of your dress, picking at nonexistent wrinkles. You moved away from your mirror much to Mel’s protest and rolled your eyes. It’s not like the old woman would be able to stop you. She was getting frail in her age and all she had left were her stern looks and voice. You might be weak but you weren’t as weak as she was. You couldn’t help but think of tripping her in the hall and watch as she struggled to get back up. Mean of you, but at times your imagination was all you had. If she did fall, Mel would probably break her hip… and maybe a couple of other bones while she was at it.

By the time you reached the dining room your mood was improved, but the sight of the large table only prepared for one sobered you up. How boring. Don, one of the guards helped you into your seat and pushed your chair in. As Alanna came into the dining room pushing a dining cart to stared at the large seat at the opposite end of the table. When you were younger and your father visited more frequently, he used to sit in that seat and tell you all about the tales of his youth. He’d been a great story teller, but as you grew older you saw the truth in his words.

He fabricated stories for you yet none of it was real or true. In all honesty you lived a carefully fabricated life based on your fathers wants. You picked up your soup spoon and carefully began to eat. Dinner went by just as slowly as it always went, you barely tasted the food . You wished you’d been allowed to bring a book to read while eating, but Mel had strictly forbidden it. To unlady like. She’d once lectured you that ladies didn’t read as much as you. You had to remind her that what else were you supposed to do for reading was a far better option than you running around the island.

It was dark out by the time you finished dinner and were spending a few moments staring at a fancy painting hanging behind your fathers dining chair. It was some ridiculously expensive things, probably worth millions of berries, and stolen. You’d like to see the town painted on the canvas. Your eyes dropped to the wine glass in front of you and you ran your finger around the rim.

“Do you wish for a refill, my lady?” Your eyes darted up to see Alanna at your side. Your eyebrow arched at her inquisition because even your alcohol intake was regulated by Mel. Ladies didn’t get drunk.

“You wish to risk Mel’s wrath?” You questioned her with a small laugh. “I think I’ve given her enough gray hairs over the years. Don’t want her thinking I’m a lush because I have a second glass.” Alanna rolled her eyes and topped off your glass

“You’re an adult, Sylvia,” She told you. “And Mel had taken her job a little too seriously.”

“Well she is being paid to watch me,” You reminded her in a dry tone while Alanna cleared the rest of the dishes from the table.

“I’m sure your father will return soon and bring you with him to see the wonders of the world,” Alanna said with a hopeful smile. “He just has a few things to clean up before it’s safe for you to accompany him. I’m sure of it.” Alanna retreated from the dining room leaving you alone with Don and your wine.

They’d been telling you that your father would back for you for years, but you knew better than to believe them. Your father wouldn’t have left you to be raised on Esmereld Cove into adult hood if he didn’t want you safe and out of pirate life. You weren’t going to leave unless you took matters into your own hands. Rising from your seat, you picked up your glass of wine and turned towards the exit.

“I shall be retiring for the night, Don, please do not disrupt my night.” The guard bowed to you and said goodnight to your back as you strode away. Once in your room, you took pleasure in the sour face of Mel as she helped you out of your dress for she knew that you were on your second glass of wine.She didn’t comment on it at least and sulked out of the room as you buttoned your nightgown. Taking a place on the reading nook you frequented in front of your large bedroom window, you stared at the moon, dreaming of a life beyond the island.

Date Published: 10/1/23

Last Edit: 10/1/23

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[snowdrop-ivy]

Chasing the Clouds: A Journey Back to The Beef | 6

Summary: Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen, Natalie, and you.

Trope: Second chances

A/N: It's been a long time, huh!? Here's a little something <33

After that quarrel with Carm, you avoided the restaurant. You dodged calls from Rich and Fak asking to hang out. Nat called that night just to ask how you’re doing. You were… okay. That’s the best word that you can use to describe it. What they didn’t know is that you were trying to be okay. You don’t know how to deal with Mikey’s passing, Carmy leaving, and your upcoming fast wedding. You were still grieving and it’s bullshit to think that you thought that everybody around you had moved on but you were still stuck in your place; the one where you shared with Carm that Mike used to visit. Grief is perhaps the last and final translation of love that you know. That’s the last act of loving someone. And it dawned on you that it will never end. You get to do this to translate this act of love for the rest of your life. You won’t forget it, it will just breeze on you everyday. Days like this makes you wonder if parallel universes are real… how you’re doing on it, who you’re with, and if everything changed. Is it different in every universe? That’s not important, what you wish is you hope that in every universe, you’re okay and happy. Because you don’t tell people around you that you’re okay, not even your dad who knows everything about you, not because you can’t but because it’s hard watching them not know what to do. After everything you learned how to rely on yourself.

It’s been a week since you started volunteering for Al-Anon meetings in your county. The chief nurse offered it to you when she called to catch up. She knew someone who could hook you up and you accepted it as you got tired of fast-tracking your wedding because your mother in law’s on your ass. Al-anons is the organization close to you since you used to be a member of it. You stood in front of everyone for your session and smiled at them. There were a lot of people scattered on the seats. You all know their stories and backgrounds and you can’t help but empathize with them. Every story you heard reminded you of Mikey, he was addicted to painkillers and shot himself on the head on the State Street bridge on your birthday. The funny thing is he knocked on your door and left a letter but you never saw him, and everytime you remember, you feel guilty, and also his letter. You left it sitting on the counter on the door. Maybe there will be a time when you can be strong enough to read it.

“Would anyone that’s been to fewer than 15 meetings like to speak?” You asked everyone, looking at them and plastering a smile.

A hand was raised and you called them out. What you didn’t expect is that it was Carmy. He saw the shock in your eyes. He knew you volunteered there through Rich, since he’s been bitching about it for a while now. You sat in front of him as that’s where you usually sat down. But you didn’t look at him, you looked at your feet as he began to speak.

Carm sat down in front of you. He licked his lips and breathed in to begin. His arms stayed at his side. “My name is Carmen. My brother is an addict. My brother was an addict,” He started, rubbing his chin. He tried to get your eyes but your eyes were glued to your feet. “And this morning, I… Sorry, uh… I forgot,” he stammered, his eyebrows creased.

You sighed, listening to him. You knew he was having a hard time opening up. That’s one of the signs you knew he was slipping away. When Mikey cut him off, he stopped opening up. When you asked him how he was, he just avoided it.

“Before I came to Al-Anon, I was a cook. I mean, I’m still a cook. I’m just a different kind of cook, I guess,” Carm continued. “My brother and I, we would cook a lot together, especially when we were kids. That’s when we were closest. Food was always our common ground. We wanted to open a restaurant together. We had a name, we had a vibe, all of it. My brother could make you feel confident in yourself. When I was a kid, if I was nervous, scared, or wouldn’t want to do something, he’d always tell me to just face it. Get it over with. He’d always say. Stupid. He would always say: Let it rip…”

You felt shivers down your spine when you heard Mike’s phrase. He used to say that to you too. You can’t even remember when you last heard it aside from now. You closed your eyes and shook your head as you took a breath trying not to feel anything.

Carm chuckled, looking at you. He looked at you when he was talking and he could only see you, that made him a little confident. “He was loud, and he was hilarious, and he had this amazing ability, he could walk into a room, and he could take the temperature off it instantly. He could dial it. And I’m not built like that. Man, I…”

His eyebrows furrowed as he garnered all the memories he could. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I had a stutter when I was a kid. I was scared to speak half the time. I got shitty grades ‘cause I couldn’t pay attention in school. I didn’t get into college. I didn’t have any girlfriends… I only had one. She was uhmm… my honey.”

Your head raised. You saw that he was looking at you. Your breaths quickened when you heard him mention you and the nickname he gave you since you started living together; when the bottle of honey exploded all over you. You clenched your teeth trying to clench the tears. “She was my everything back then. She was the only one who looked at me like I’m worth it,” He gave out a chuckle, shaking his head before returning his gaze to you.

Carm saw your face softened and your eyes started to moist. “I always thought my brother was my best friend…” He said after a long pause. “Except… everybody thought he was their best friend. You know, he was that, he was that magnetic. And, um… I didn't know my brother was using drսgs. What does that say?” His stern voice asked, like he was annoyed and that’s because he was. His question was shot directly to you. “As we got older, I-I realized I didn't know anything about him… really. He stopped letting me into the restaurant a couple years ago. He just cut me off cold. And that, um… that hurt, you know. And I think that just, that flipped a switch in me where I was like, "Okay, fսck you, watch this." and I just left…” He whispered. “I left everything and everyone.”

You gulped as you blinked fast. Your breath was fastening and you felt your eyes ringing as Carm went on to talk. You knew what connection they had and how he was broken down when Mike cut him off. And you wished for just a fraction that he could tell you how he felt. You knew you couldn’t do something about it but maybe sharing it with you is better than nothing. You wanted to understand why he pushed you away when all you wanted to do was to keep him close. And as damned to say, it broke your heart when you watch him try not to show his pain. How he just kept it and it made him worse. And as every person, you all deserve better; You, Mike, Carm, and everyone in between. You all deserved a fair shot for a happy and better everything, at life, love, and friendships.

“And the more he wouldn't respond, and the more our relationship… kinda strained, the deeper into this I went and the better I got. And the more people I cut out, the quieter my life got. And the routine of the kitchen was so… consistent and exacting and busy and hard and alive, and I lost track of time and he died. And he left me his restaurant. And over the last couple months I-I've been trying to fix it 'cause it was in rough shape, and I think it's very clear that me trying to fix the restaurant… was me trying to fix whatever was happening with my brother. And I don't know, maybe fix the whole family because… that restaurant, it has and it, it does mean a lot to people. It means a lot to me. I just don't know if it ever meant anything to him,” Carm ended. He went back straight to his seat, slumping and looking down, massaging his hands.

You cleared your throat as you ended today’s session. You thanked them all for their braveness. As each one of them left you glanced at Carm still sitting down. His arms propped on his legs, jiggling it up and down. You sat down beside him, looking in front of you. Carm had his eyes shut trying to ease the voices in his head. He felt your hand resting against his arm, and for the first time again, he felt what he would always feel when he’s with you: affection.

“That was very brave, B…” You softly said.

Carm looked at the hand on his arm. He held your hand in his hands and placed it on his cheeks before looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

His touch felt warm and familiar. It was deja vu. His touch made everything tangled: You hate him and love him. He was brave and weak. He was an asshole and a softy. He was made of these contradictions which tear your heart to pieces when you look at him and him looking through you. And had we been anyone else, the night would not have been so cold.

“It’s okay…” You gently replied, slightly smiling at him. You saw the tense on his shoulders relaxed when you said that. For Carmy, everything is resolved. That’s the one thing he’d absolutely want, for you to forgive him. “It’s gonna be okay. Maybe not now but maybe tomorrow.”

“I hope so…” He said, giving a smile.

He really hoped so. That tomorrow will be okay. That he’s not feeling all the emotions at once. That he can process everything in a calm, gentle manner. That everything is okay.

[amethyst-crystalfly]

hi! Diluc reacting to accidentally hurting s/o while training w/ them? He feels rlly guilty and promises to help u get better because he thinks it’s his fault.

thanks you!

A/N: Ooooohhhh hello there! I really like this prompt! Thank you for the ask! This is my first time doing a request and I am so excited! Let’s see what we can cook up 🧪 welcome to my blog and I hope you have a pleasant stay! 🤍🎀

Warnings: mentions of blood, like a LOT of it, mentions of injury.

Character: Diluc

Kiss it Better

The hours right after Dawn are your favourite. The air is filled with chirps of birds and the cool Mondstadt breeze brings a certain sense of peace with it. This is also the time you get to train with your beloved partner, the roguishly handsome wine tycoon of Mondstadt, Diluc. The flaming red of his hair matches the early morning sun. You have never felt more alive, as you do now, training against him in a clearing just outside Dawn winery.

He is strong and his movements are steady, his high ponytail doesn’t seem to have a single strand out of place, even though he is drenched in sweat. Your agility never seems to stop amusing him. You could feel droplets of sweat trickling down your back. But oh it feels so good. Neither of you are quitters, the playful competition is infact the best part of it all! You swipe your sword at him and he swoops past effortlessly. His movements are like that of a mountain lion. But you are no less admirable yourself. You dodge his attacks and parry his sword with just as much grace. It’s like you two are locked in a dance . Each matching the other’s movements flawlessly.

Oh but the sun is starting to feel hotter today. As expected in the middle of July. You both had been going at it for a while now. Your breaths were paced out with little pants in between now, but neither of you wanted to give up. Did the sun seem brighter? Was the heat getting higher? Or was it all in your head? You really should have had a better breakfast this morning. Why did your sword suddenly feel heavier? Your ears were buzzing. You tried to shake off the feeling with a quick shake of your head. But oh! You felt Diluc’s sword hit your side, the same moment he realized that you missed the dodge.

The blunt edge of the wooden sword crashed against your ribs sending you flying off your feet. Everything was happening so quickly. You felt your head knocking against something hard sending a sharp jab of pain through your body and then nothing.

Diluc couldn’t believe his eyes, you missed! You didn’t dodge! How is that possible?? You always dodge! He saw the exact moment your eyes started to look out of focus, but it was too late. His sword was in motion and he tried to soften the blow, but it was too late. And then he heard the sickening sound of the sword hitting your body. It was all playing out in agonizingly slow motion for him, yet he couldn’t do anything, as the impact knocked you away. Then your head hit that rock and he felt his heart beating through his chest. He rushed to you instantly and found your blood already drenching the grey rock crimson. No no no this can’t be happening. He used his handkerchief as a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. You were loosing so much blood. He swooped you up in his arms and rushed back to the winery.

“Charles!! Adelinde!!” Diluc called out as he neared them, they rushed to your aid. They had never seen their young master in such utter state of panic since…it didn’t matter now. You needed immediate help! One of the maids instantly went to fetch a doctor. Adelinde had tended to multiple wounds of the Dark Night before, but this one, it needed stitches. Blood gushing from your bleeding temple had run all the way down your neck, and mixed with the sweat it was a terrifying image. Your breath seemed shallow and pained. One of the maids, brought a rag and a bucket of water to clean your wound, but Diluc simply thanked her for it and started cleaning your face and your neck with his own hands. Carefully he swiped the wet rag over your face and neck. He was not thinking, right now his priority was making sure you were okay. Barbara burst in through the door, and quickly ushered everyone out so she could begin working on you. Diluc too had to leave, although he was reluctant but he knew that it was necessary.

Once outside the room, it all started sinking in for him. He could still hear your sharp cry of pain as the sword connected with your side. He could just pray that he was able to soften his blow enough to not break a rib. He felt waves of guilt wash over him. It was all his fault, it was him. He never wanted to hurt you. He was so sure you would dodge like you always do, that he didn’t think of holding back. Why didn’t he realize earlier that you were not okay. He was internally cursing himself as he bent over clutching at his hair. Tears started streaming down his face. Tears of frustration at his own failures, tears of guilt, pain and of fear, the fear of losing you. He never wanted things to become this way. Yet here he was. Pathetic.

Barbara opened the door and Diluc shot up to his feet, jostled from his world of inner conflicts. She saw the worry in his eyes and her heart broke for him a little. She always thought of him as somewhat of an elder brother. She tried to calm his fears the best she could, she said that you were going to be okay. The bleeding had stopped and she put in about 6 stitches on your forehead. Your ribs were bruised but no signs of breakage, there was some internal bleeding, but she healed it to the best of her abilities. She showed one of the maids how to change the dressing of your bandage, the stitches will take a little while to heal.

“She needs rest, plenty of it, not even light activities, her wound is pretty deep, thankfully it was not the back of her head” Barbara said. After prescribing some medicines she offered whatever words of comfort she could and took her leave. She could see it in Diluc’s eyes that no words of comfort would sooth him right now, unless they were from your lips.

Diluc gently opened the door to your shared bedroom, and found you laying there still on the bed. The gentle rise and fall of your chest the only indication of your beating heart. The maids had changed you into a one of your soft white cotton night dresses. Barbara gave you some painkillers to help. The dosage was strong enough to lull you into a gentle sleep. Diluc vowed to take it upon himself to tend to you, to repent for his sins.

You woke up the next morning to the sound of pleasant bird chirps, a gentle breeze wafted in through the open window as if softly caressing you with its healing touch. Your peaked from underneath your lashes at the soft morning light washing the room in its pure light. You felt a weight on your hands, and looked to discover Diluc asleep on the bedside clutching your hand. Your head throbbed a little at the movement and your groaned at the sudden pain. This woke Diluc up. He was surprised to see you awake. You tried to sit up, Diluc was instantly there by your side, helping you, he put a pillow against the exquisitely carved headboard to ease your discomfort and propped you against it gently. He silently offered you a glass of water from the bedside which you didn’t realize you needed till you drank it, the delicious cooling effect of the water felt healing to you. You sighed happily with your eyes closed as he carefully took the glass from your hands and placed it back down. You opened your eyes and cracked a sleepy smile at him, “good morning handsome”. Diluc had not said a word till now, you realized why as he instantly broke down after seeing you smile. He kneeled by the bed with his arms around your waist, with his head down. You could feel his body shake with the tears spilling down his pretty face.

“I am sorry I am sorry I never meant to hurt you I love you so much I am sorry” he kept saying as he poured his heart out to you, he revealed all those thoughts that had been tormenting him, all the painful what-ifs that had been holding him hostage, he confided all of that to you.

You let him say it all, as you quietly ran your hands through his hair, offering him comfort. When he finished, you took cupped face in your hands and made him look up to you in your eyes. And you said intently, meaning it with all your heart, “it was not your fault love” you could see the tears brimming in his eyes as you continued. “ I am okay am I not? You controlled your movements the best you could, I know it, if you had not slowed yourself in time, archon knows I wouldn’t get away without a single broken rib, I faltered because of my own fault, but you saved me” you sighed, “to be honest, I should have told you that I wasn’t feeling well, I know you would have understood and taken care of me, just like you did now, but my silly pride got in the way, I didn’t want to give up…if anything I am sorr”—- you couldn’t finish the sentence as Diluc captured your lips in a kiss. You leaned back, tugging at his collar, and he joined you in bed with you. Saying all the things he left unsaid with his kiss, it was not a hot kiss of burning desire, but a gentle kiss of affection, care and love. He cared for you deeply and he promised to never let you go.

🩷🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍🤍🩷🤍🩷🩷🤍🩷🤍

Find more work here ☀️ happy browsing!! ^o^

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[casualaruanienjoyer]

Prompt idea: AU where Niccolo introduces Sasha to his parents 🙂

Anon!!!! Aaa this is adorable😭 right right, there are many ways to go about this one, but I think I have an idea, so enjoy!! Sorry it's so long!! (Also my headcanon is that Niccolo's family is whatever the equivalent of Italian is in the world of AOT)

Meeting Niccolo's parents

Niccolo and Sasha have known each other for a while now. Since he got tasked with cooking for the military, they meet almost every day. Sasha was always there first, breakfast, lunch, dinner. It didn't matter! She'd arrive early to ask him about the menu for the day, and she'd usually manage to get extra food from him too. She was always the last one to leave.

Niccolo is, quite frankly, absolutely smitten with this unsophisticated woman. The more he cooked for her, the more he fell for her. She's just… hilarious! He'd never met anyone like her before, someone that enjoys his food so much. Someone that is so unapologetically gluttonous and wild. It amuses him.

Sasha, on the other hand, felt rather confused. Every time she saw Niccolo, she felt very happy, bashful even. But was it her love for his food making her feel like that, or was there something else? She decided to not think about it too much. She didn't usually take feelings like this very seriously.

But today she finds this to be almost impossible.

Today they are set to visit Marley, take a bit of time off to explore the world beyond the walls. And Niccolo somehow managed to convince Captain Levi to let him tag along. Niccolo owns him a lifetime supply of exotic tea, but that doesn't matter now.

What matters is that today he will visit his parents. This was an agreement between him and Captain Levi alone, since it has been a while since Niccolo last saw his parents. They are growing old, and he doesn't know when he'll get to see them again.

"Come, I'd like you to meet someone" Niccolo whispers and pulls Sasha into the crowd with him. It doesn't take long for them to lose the others, and Sasha is confused. "Don't worry, the Captain knows about this."

His grip on her hand is firm, and they walk so fast that she has to hold onto her hat to stop it from being taken away by the ocean breeze.

"Not long now" he turns to her, smiling, and Sasha's heart skips a beat. Her brows furrow and she looks down at the rhythmic movement of her feet. Why did she feel like this?

They soon arrive before a narrow building, squished between many others. Niccolo fixes his clothes and hair, then knocks on the door.

An older, taller man with a pretty impressive moustache opens the door slightly and his eyes widen when he sees Niccolo. "BIANCA, COME HERE! IT'S NICCOLO!!" The two basically yank Niccolo and Sasha inside. His mom checks him all over while his dad rushes out the room to set the dining table.

Sasha feels out of place. Why did Niccolo bring her here?

His parents ask numerous questions.

"Where have you been???"

"Have you eaten???"

"Are they treating you well in the navy???"

"Who is this pretty young lady???"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! I swear!" Niccolo scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Papa, Mamma, I want you to meet Sasha" and he gestures towards Sasha, taking her hand in his.

Sasha's heart skips another beat. What is happening?

"Oh my, what a pretty name!"

Sasha clears her throat. "Ah-um. Nice to meet you!" She says a bit too seriously, extending a determined hand towards the dad, shaking his vigorously. She then proceeds to do the same for his mom. She comes off a bit stiff, but they smile regardless.

"Wow, such strong arms! Are you also in the navy?" Bianca asks.

Niccolo looks at Sasha with a knowing gaze. "Yeah. Yes, we met in the navy. Of course" she smiles, hoping they buy their story. Sasha's never even been good with boats. They make her sea sick.

"Unfortunately, we can't stay long, our ship only pulled in here for a few hours. But I thought we could enjoy lunch together?"

"Yes yes of course bambino mio, we were just about to enjoy some home made pasta together."

The table is now set and everyone grabs a seat. Sasha can't help but admire their beautiful home. It feels very warm and cosy.

"Sasha, have you ever had Testaroli? I hope you'll like mine!" Bianca says as she bring out plates full of delicious looking food. Sasha has no idea what Testaroli was, but she couldn't care less. She was now INCREDIBLY hungry.

"Ah mamma, I'm sure Sasha will lo-" but the moment the plates touch the table Sasha immediately digs in. She takes a forkful of pasta and shoves it in her mouth. She looks incredibly focused, assessing every foreign flavour in her mouth. Her brows furrow and relax and her expression changes several times per second.

She lowers her cutlery, one hand reaching up to wipe some tears that hang at the corners of her eyes. "This… this is MAGNIFICENT! AMAZING! DELICIOUS! HOW HAVE I LIVED MY WHOLE LIFE WITHOUT KNOWING ABOUT TESTAROLI" she whines dramatically, leaning back in her chair and throwing her arms in the air.

Her parents are in complete shock, but Niccolo laughs and pats Sasha on the back. "There there, don't worry about it, I can make it for you any time you want!"

Sasha looks at him with big sparkly eyes and smiles widely.

Niccolo and his parents burst out laughing while Sasha continues to devour her pasta. They spend the rest of their lunch chatting about Niccolo's parents and what they have been up to.

Time finally comes for them to leave, and Niccolo hugs his parents very tightly. "I hope to see you again, mamma, papa. Please take care of yourselves!"

Bianca wipes some tears away while Stefano proceeds to slap Niccolo's back really hard, dad style.

"Next time see you at the wedding, no? HAHAHA" Niccolo's dad shouts as they leave through the door, and Sasha almost trips and falls down the modest set of stairs in front of the entrance.

"The WHAT-?"

💜This fic is now also on AO3