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peacelovepandora · 2 years ago

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Days of Coping

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

this is a part of a series of continuation scenarios following part 1 and part 2, with Y/N's death and resurrection. enjoy xx.

Under the late afternoon sun, as eclipse neared, your family walked across the sand, approaching the Metkayina village. All of you had gone fishing together, gathering food for the village's dinner that evening. Lo'ak and Neytiri walked in front, followed by you and Neteyam. Behind you, Jake kept close in step, sharply monitoring you.

The sudden sound of a scream made you jump, sharply turning your head towards the noise. When your eyes caught sight of a little girl, who was running towards the water before jumping in, your shoulders relaxed.

Neteyam, who'd been watching you from the corner of his eye, stepped closer before wrapping an arm around you. As soon as his arm made contact, you jumped again, jerking your head up to look at him before immediately relaxing.

Upon seeing your startled movements at his touch, his eyes softened as he pulled you close. Then, he leaned down slightly before placing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

"Hey," he whispered, raising his hand to cup the back of your head.

You raised your eyes to meet your big brother's before wrapping your arms around his waist. He swung his bag over his shoulder, freeing his other hand, before gathering you in his arms. His longer arms engulfed you, holding you to him as your head rested on his shoulder. As the two of you held each other, you never ceased from walking.

Jake, who'd watched the whole thing from behind you, felt a small smile tug at his lips. However, as sweet as the sight was--seeing his oldest look after his youngest--he couldn't shake the weight within his chest.

As he observed your state, his mind wandered back to his own PTSD from being a marine. Nothing hurt him more than seeing you like this--skittish and haunted by the remnants of war.

Another noise came from the villagers, making you jump, once again. This time, it was a group of adolescent boys whooping and howling. Neteyam, of course, felt your start and glanced at the group of boys before turning his attention to you.

As one hand cupped your head, the other briefly rubbed your back. "S'okay, baby sister," he spoke softly, "It's just the village, yeah?"

You sighed before nodding, holding him tighter. Sensing your unease, he responded with squeezing you tighter.

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, Jake spoke up. "Teyam."

Neteyam glanced back, halting his movements. Since he was holding you, you stopped with him. At the sound of Jake's voice, Neytiri and Lo'ak turned around before coming to a stop.

Jake reached out, gently gripping your shoulder before pulling you to him. "You go on ahead with your mother and brother," Jake instructed, "I wanna talk to your sister for a minute."

Neteyam hesitated, looking down at you with a vigilant gaze. When he didn't move, Jake nodded his head in the direction of his mate.

"Go on," he encouraged, "I got her."

Neteyam finally nodded before obediently mumbling, "Yes, sir."

As Neteyam turned around, walking towards Neytiri and Lo'ak, Neytiri reached out, bringing her hand over his back as he passed her. She kept her gaze on Jake, mentally questioning him. Jake gave her a comforting nod, letting her know it was alright to go on.

Neytiri gently pushed Lo'ak forward before finally turning around and walking away herself.

Once the rest of your family was a decent distance away, Jake swung his bag and supplies over his shoulder before taking a knee. As he grabbed your other shoulder, preparing to turn you towards him, another noise caused you to jump, once again.

Jake tilted his head as his eyes softened. "Baby girl," he whispered, turning you before cupping your cheek, "Hey . . ."

Though your head faced him, you lowered your gaze to look at his chest, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Jake sighed, beginning to rub his thumb against your skin.

"Y/N," he cooed, "Let me in, baby. What can I do?"

You shook your head, feeling tears of frustration begin to sting your eyes. Jake reached out and cupped your other cheek, tilting his head down to catch your eyes. Refusing to let him see your tears, you squeezed your eyes shut. However, this only produced the opposite effect, causing the rest of your face to tense as a sob pushed its way out your lips.

Jake leaned back, feeling his heart clench at the sound of your first sob. "Oh, baby," he whispered, pulling you in, "Hey, hey, hey . . ."

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your face into his hair, inhaling his comforting scent.

"What do you need me to do?" Jake asked, cupping your head as he rocked you from side to side, "Name anything and it's yours."

"I'm tired of being so highly strung," you whimpered, "and having nightmares and crying all the time."

"Sweetheart, you're dealing with a lot right now," Jake explained patiently, "Your body and mind are trying to figure out ways to cope. Don't ever feel ashamed of that."

He began rubbing your back. "If anything around you is upsetting you, or things get to be too much, don't ever hesitate to come and tell me. You let everything out to me, alright? Don't hold that stuff in."

You nodded into his skin, maintaining a firm grip on him. As another loud noise echoed from the village, you flinched in his arms. Jake tightened his grip on you before turning his head to speak near your ear.

"You're jumpier than usual today," he observed, "What's going on? You have another nightmare last night?"

When you didn't answer, he released another sigh, closing his eyes as he lowered his head slightly.

"Y/N. Please, please wake me up when you have a nightmare. I don't care how late it is or how tired you think I am."

"I'm trying to learn to deal with them on my own, Dad," you replied, keeping your face tucked away from his gaze.

"Y/N, no," he replied, turning your head to meet his eyes, "From now on, wake me up every time, you hear me? I know how scared you get, and I can't fathom the thought of you sitting alone panicking in the middle of the night when I'm right there to--"

He took a breath, gathering his thoughts. However, before he could finish you leaned into his palm before responding softly.

"Yes, sir."

Sorrow filled his eyes as he processed your meek, militant response. "No--baby, you don't have to--" he began, stopping to close his eyes for a moment before reopening them, "Just please wake me up, alright? That's what I'm here for."

Jake hated your resistance when it came to waking him up at night. During the times that your nightmares had been strong enough to wake him up, he'd witnessed you face countless panic attacks as your mind tricked you into thinking you were back on the field. You would wake up gasping, before immediately looking down and touching your chest, terrified that the bullet wound would be there.

It always took him awhile to talk you down from your panicked state. However, with the nightmares being common occurrences, it helped him pick up on what worked with you and what didn't.

Cradling you was always his go-to. It brought you back to the safety of being an infant, and resting in his arms as he rocked you to sleep. Other times, he simply needed to hug you, to maintain a secure grip on you to ensure that he was your anchor.

A few times, you'd been so consumed by your nightmare that frantic movements transferred into reality. Your arms would fling, or you would scratch yourself. These were the few times that Jake was forced to completely restrain you, wrapping his arms around you while holding your wrists. Then, he would pull you to him and wrap his legs around yours to cease your kicking. Though he held you with great strength, his voice remained soft as he did his best to calm you down.

Jake cupped your head and lowered it back to his shoulder. "I don't mean to scold you, sweetheart," he said softly, "Trust me, that's the last thing I wanna do."

He turned to place a kiss on your cheek. Once he did, you pulled away before glancing up at the sky. The sun had eclipsed. An uneasiness settled within your gut as you thought about your blurred vision staring at the sky. Though the memory seemed so far away now, like it'd happened in another life--and in a way it did--you couldn't shake the fear that crept back into you every time.

Jake observed you, glancing up at the eclipse before looking back at you. He began to ask you about it but stopped when something else caught your attention. Following your gaze, he spotted a father walking across the white sand, holding his young daughter to his chest.

When he looked back at you, he didn't miss the longing expression in your eyes. He leaned forward, tilting his head slightly.

"You want me to carry you?"

Your cheeks burned as you lowered your gaze, embarrassed that he'd been able to read you so easily. Swallowing thickly, you shook your head.

"I'm too old now."

Jake exhaled out of his nose as a smile tugged at his lips. "Never."

After securing his hunting supplies one more time, he reached under your arms before adjusting his grip.

"C'mere. Up we go."

Lifting you was as easy as lifting a human. Even though you were technically an adolescent, there was still a massive size difference between you and Jake, given that you were only a few good inches above Spider. Jake was far from opposed to it, though. To him, you would always be his little girl, so your petite frame just fed into that mindset.

Jake picked you up before settling you on his hip, just like he used to when you were younger. He bounced you up once, securing you, before setting a hand on the back of your head. You leaned in, laying your head on his shoulder before closing your eyes.

The rest of the walk was peaceful. As you rode in his arms, you allowed the slight bounce of his steps to lull you into a brief slumber.

Opening your eyes, you sucked in a breath. As the world began to materialize around you, you struggled to pull yourself from your nightmare. Your vision flashed between the straw ceiling of your hut, --slightly visible from the warm, dim light of a small fire--and the image within your mind, which was the eclipsing sun that you'd gazed at before your death.

As you took in shallow breaths, you tried to calm yourself by closing your eyes. Then, you attempted to place your hands over your chest, an action that brought you comfort when you felt the unwounded skin beneath your hands. However, alarm spiked within you as you failed to move your arms.

Your heart rate, which had previously began slowing down, began to pick up again. Taking a breath, you tried to move again. When your body refused to obey your orders, your mind spiraled into hysterics.

Each breath grew quicker as you attempted to turn your head, speak, or move.

"Ughnnnnn," you moaned, hoping that your voice would manage to wake someone, "Urhnnnnnn!"

A body, that had been laying next to you, sat up quickly. When it leaned over you, relief filled your mind as your big brother's concerned eyes gazed down at you.

"Baby sister?" Neteyam whispered, cupping your cheek, "What's wrong?"

"Ughrnnn!" you moaned, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes as you tried desperately to communicate with him.

He frowned, shifting his gaze to the rest of your body, which was laying flat with a strange stiffness. When his eyes returned to yours, he asked the dreaded question.

"Can you not move?"

"Urhn, urhn," you mumbled as a lonely tear traveled down your cheek.

His eyes widened slightly as he wiped your tear. "Okay, okay, let me just . . ." His hands hovered unsurely over your smaller body.

Realizing he couldn't solve this on his own, he let out a small groan before reaching over you. He shook the body on the other side of you.

"Dad? Dad!" he whispered harshly.

Jake jolted up, looking around briefly before spotting Neteyam. Then, his eyes shifted down to you. He scooted forward, shrinking his proximity to you. Then, he looked back at Neteyam.

"What is it, son? What's wrong?"

"Y/N. She says she can't move," he replied, panic seeping its way into his soft tone.

"What?" Jake hissed, looking down sharply and reaching his hand over you, cupping your cheek, "Y/N? What's goin' on, baby? Talk to me. Nightmare?"

"Urgnnn." Your voice came out in a strained whimper.

Jake's eyes shifted to your lips, picking up on your inability to move them.

"I don't think she can speak, either," Neteyam continued, gingerly holding your shoulder, "She's only been making noises like that. That's how she woke me up."

Jake's expression grew confused. Then, he looked down at the rest of your body. His eyes scanned every limb, every inch of skin for a potential injury.

His heart rate spiked as he cupped his hand under your neck before lifting you. His sharp gaze scanned your back, searching for any sign of injury. However, to his relief, there was none.

With a hand still cupping your neck, rather than laying you back down, he readjusted his position and pulled you onto his lap. He supported your head with the crook of his arm, cradling you like he always did. Then, he cupped your cheek, scanning your body one more time before returning his gaze to you.

"What's wrong with her, Dad?" Neteyam asked, sounding less like your protective big brother and more like a frightened child.

"Okay, okay," Jake whispered, gently wiping a tear that had fallen down your cheek, "Let me just--let me just try to figure this out. I don't see any injuries on her."

It was difficult for him to calm his mind, especially since he'd experienced the horrors of being paralyzed himself. However, his case was straightforward--with a spinal injury. As he held you in his arms, he searched again, but failed to locate any injuries on you.

Why couldn't you move?

Then, a distant conversation with Norm and Max pushed its way to the front of his mind.

"There's a lot that she could be prone to. This is something that we've never dealt with before," Norm said, after Jake had explained your resurrection process to him, "I mean, she experienced death, went into the afterlife, and returned. This is unprecedented. There's no way of knowing what PTSD symptoms, anxieties, or other mental health issues she could face as a consequence. Things could vary from trouble sleeping to panic attacks to sleep paralysis."

"Sleep paralysis?" Jake had asked, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It's when you wake up and you're unable to move or speak. The paralysis doesn't last long, but sometimes going back to sleep is the best option," Max answered.

"It hasn't been studied enough to know the definite causes of it," Norm continued, "but some think it's brought on by immense anxiety. It's harmless, but it can be a frightening experience for anyone dealing with it."

"Sleep paralysis," Jake whispered to himself.

Neteyam perked up, recognizing a look of realization in his father's eyes. Jake looked at him before repeating himself.

"Sleep paralysis."

Though Neteyam was glad his father seemed to understand what it was, he couldn't hide the confusion that overtook his gaze. However, he remained silent, knowing Jake needed to focus on you rather than explain things to him.

When Neteyam looked back down at you, his heart broke as he spotted more tears traveling down your cheeks. He leaned over you, braids swinging in his face, as he wiped your tears.

"Hey, shh," he cooed, "It's okay. Dad knows what it is now."

"Okay, okay, baby, listen to me, shhhh," Jake began as more cries began to force their way out of your mouth, "You're gonna be okay. Norm and Max mentioned this before. Sleep paralysis. It's harmless, but can be triggered by anxiety or stress. It'll wear off in a few minutes."

Though you tried to subdue them, fear caused more muffled cries pushed themselves from your body. Jake felt his heart clench with each new sob as he tightened his grip.

"I know, I know baby girl. I'm so sorry," he soothed, shaking his head, "but I'm gonna hold you until it wears off, alright? Your brother's here too. We're not goin' anywhere."

Jake swiped a piece of hair from your forehead. Then, he continued to wipe any stray tears that fell.

Though you were petrified with fear, the presence of your father and oldest brother managed to soothe you enough for you to nod off without realizing.

When you'd opened your eyes again, you felt an element of shock, having no memory of falling asleep. Though you weren't sure how much time had passed, you could feel more heat in the air around you, letting you know that eclipse had passed.

Jake smiled softly, gently pinching your chin. "Hey you."

After your eyes shifted between your father and your brother--who hadn't moved from his spot, either--you realized you were in the same position that you'd nodded off from.

"You were out like a light," Jake whispered, "How do you feel?"

"How long has it been?" you asked.

When they both widened their eyes, realization overcame you. "Oh!" you exclaimed, covering your mouth afterwards.

When your body shot up, coming to a sitting position, your head swam. Letting out a murmur, you placed a hand on your head, wobbling slightly. Jake grabbed your side and the back of your head, while Neteyam gripped both your shoulders.

"Woah, hang on, sweetheart," Jake said, as they both steadied you, "Easy, now, easy. Take it slow."

Lowering your hand from your head, you nodded, leaning back into Jake's hand. Jake kept his eyes trained on you before glancing up at Neteyam.

"Teyam," he called.

Neteyam, who'd been gripping your shoulders to steady you, looked up at his father.

"Go grab the leftovers that we saved for her from dinner. Get some water too," Jake ordered, gently moving you to lean against the wall.

Neteyam nodded, standing up. "Yes, sir."

Jake kept a hand behind your head, giving you cushion as you leaned back. When Neteyam returned--with cooked fish, mashed fruit, and water--Jake carefully leaned you up.

"When I brought you back here yesterday, it was already dinnertime, but I didn't have the heart to wake you, especially with all the night terrors you've been dealing with," Jake explained, taking the bowls from Neteyam and setting them in front of you, "Figured we could save this for whenever you woke up."

You nodded. "It's alright. I wasn't that hungry at the time, anyway."

As you said this, your stomach growled loudly. Jake and Neteyam glanced at each other, amused smiles plastered on their faces. As your cheeks grew warm, you looked down, focusing on starting your first meal.

"Well, at least we know you're hungry now, hm?" Neteyam teased, smirking as he leaned forward and playfully clawed at your stomach.

This emitted a mixture of a helpless giggle and a hiss from you, causing him to pull back with a laugh. Jake failed to bite back a smile before giving Neteyam a quick nuggie on the head.

"Alright, let your sister eat. You should've been asleep too, anyway," Jake said, nodding towards Neteyam's mat.

"Respectfully, sir," Neteyam answered, "I wouldn't have been able to get back to sleep, anyway."

Jake looked at his son before sighing, knowing that he was right. However, he couldn't help feeling proud of the young man Neteyam was becoming. In many ways, though he wasn't perfect, he was the embodiment of the perfect big brother you and Lo'ak needed.

Nodding, Jake finally responded. "I know . . . Now go on, it'll be breakfast soon. Your sister's alright now."

Neteyam hopped up, positioning himself in a squat before standing up. "Yes, sir."

Before leaving, he leaned down, gripped your shoulders, and placed a kiss on your cheek. When you playfully scrunched up your face, Neteyam tilted his head in mock offense--something he'd picked up from Jake. Then, without warning, he blew into your left ear, making you gasp and raise your shoulder to press it against your ear.

"Teyam!" you squealed, laughing as you instinctively scooted closer to Jake.

"Aye! What did I just say? Out!" Jake commanded, though his voice sounded far less threatening as he laughed, as well, "You'll have time to mess with your baby sister later. Go!"

Your eyes widened as you lowered a piece of fruit from your mouth. "Wha--no, no! I did not agree to that!"

After shifting your gaze from Jake to Neteyam, your big brother smirked as he took steps backwards, braids swinging in the process.

The mischievous glint in his eye was all-too-familiar to you, given that Jake was your father. "After breakfast and chores, baby sister," Neteyam said, pointing his finger at you.

"No way," you replied, trying to keep your nervous giggles down, "You stay away, you psycho."

He raised his hands, shrugging and looking around with raised eyebrows. "There's nowhere to hide."

Grabbing his blanket, you chugged it towards him, only for him to duck and bolt out of the hut.

damn I need to write something with just neteyam. i loved including him in this.

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#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully daughter #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #avatar way of water #Jake Sully fluff #Jake Sully x y/n #soft #protective Jake sully #Neteyam x little sister!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam little sister #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #protective neteyam sully

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walkingshcdow · 2 years ago

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By all rights, this was how it was supposed to go. Somehow that didn’t make it hurt less, though.

Keres had had a good life, a long one for a human he’d been told, and a marriage with him that by human standards seemed infinite. For fifty years now, he and Keres had been deeply in love, devoted spouses who brightened each others every hour. What humans didn’t understand was that for an Elf, fifty years was nothing.

So here, now, clutching her in their bed- she an old woman and he eternally young- flanked by their daughter on the other side, everything ached. How would he be twice widowed in so short a time? How would Daphne be twice without a mother before she reached adulthood? It wasn’t fair.

Keres rested her head against his chest and struggled to breathe, spinning with the fears of a dying woman, the things she only ever voiced to her husband in the quiet when perhaps not even he would hear her. How would Daphne manage without a mother at such a difficult stage in her life? How would Percy be, thrust back into the life of a widower for the second time? What would happen to her? She prayed she wouldn’t find herself in the realm of “her god” for eternity, being tortured for refusing her a lifetime. She had asked Percy to pray for her more than once in those moments, afraid and while not trusting of the gods more afraid of what she’d always been told would come next.

She didn’t voice those things now though. Only clung more tightly to her family and tried not to cry in their last moment, thinking about what might happen without her. All the things she knew would. Gods, it is sent fair.

“I love you both.” Keres rasped, squeezing Daphne’s hand tightly. “And I’ll be watching over you, I promise. I’ll never be fair from you when you want me.”

And with that she slipped into her final sleep, still and silent, while a rainstorm started outside for one final time.

…

It had been decades since her death, and the world had moved on. For only having been 25 years the world was almost unrecognizable- all bohemian fashion and women’s liberations and rock and roll. Sometimes Daphne mentioned off handedly that her mother would have hated this. Sometimes she didn’t have to. But they missed her regardless.

Percy still played the part he was meant to, if less bombastically. Still attended the parties and met all the right people- Corelian’s cloak, he never thought he would misS Victorians norms around mourning- humans these days expected him to be past such a thing all too fast, and it aches every time. At least Andrew was trying to be respectful, not trying yo drag him out to get a woman under him to make him feel better. Small mercies indeed.

It was Lenore, in the end, who tried to force him out again. Sweeping over to him at a party with a young thing on her arm, pretty as anything, dressed in a black cocktail dress at least ten years south of fashion. Percy could have killed her then. Until, perhaps, or perhaps more so, when he realized that woman was the spitting image of Keres Whitlock.

“Percy dear, have you met Moros? You really should, I have a feeling you two will get along splendidly.” She grinned, swooshing away just as quickly, leaving just the right opening for a drunken man to spill his drink all over the poor girl.

Outside, a crack of thunder rolled across blue skies.

"Let me help you-"

He launches into grabbing cloth napkins from the nearest table and patting the girl dry absently. If it had fully processed that Moros, this poor, soaking wet girl, looked like Keres, it was still lurking in the subconscious level of Percy's mind as he then, above the din of thunder roared at the klutz who'd dared sully the girl's fine (if outdated) dress.

"Oi!" he growled, launching from Moros to the oaf. "You apologize to this woman this instant!"

There is no room for argument in Percy's voice and the man, agitated as he is, mutters some apology or another before stumbling off for a refill.

The storm rumbles gently outside and a flash of lightning catches his gaze. Percy looks to Moros and finally sees her. He can't breathe. He can't stop staring. She is in every physical way Keres. He knows those eyes, that look of mortification, the stiff-backed posture as his hands are on her. How often has he kissed those lips? Lived to make her laugh instead of rage?

He's never been able to shut up around her though. So he can't breathe and he's staring but he's also babbling.

"Are you all right, miss? Can I get you somethin'? A towel? A jacket? A cab?"

#ch: percy brightstar #.001 | canon #.002 | modern #r: percy brightstar x keres whitlock | alittlefirebirdtoldme #alittlefirebirdtoldme #thread: percy brightstar x keres whitlock | alittlefirebirdtoldme

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evecolourshock · 11 months ago

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Eve hesitated. She could... hear the lightning. It wanted to help. "We need..." she looked at Zahir, immediately spotting his wound (oil leaking, glowing faintly in the storm and snow, a dark energy variant spilling from a friend...), and firmed her jaw. "We need shelter." She said aloud, more to the storm than anyone else. "Protection." She scooped up the kid she'd first dived to protect, tugged the mother - not uninjured, but not badly hurt either - to help Zahir. Pulled Floris to his feet and steered his dazed form away from the battling titans. Other casters, what few were among the refugees, tried to continue fighting but... struggled. Ordered what they could wield, Eve realised, instead of asked, and it didn't want to. "This way." Her little corner had become a grim survivor's bastion, her gifts and trinkets tucked away in favour of giving people space to hide and pray.

She brought others with her too - the one-armed man who'd been cooking a meal and had hit out at an attacker with the pot, the blind horned one desperately clawing at its sighted brethren and shrieking they'd never go back, the teen standing bitterly determined against overwhelming odds to protect the baby in a cot behind them. All of them and more, she led to her little corner and settled all together.

"My cousin, lend me your strength, for I cannot fight these trials without knowing you are there to watch my back." Eve murmured, skimming her fingers over Tron's smiling face. "Athena, my sister, give me your blessing, for this battle will demand all the wisdom you shared with me when we were learning about the world." Her gaze lingered on Trick's bright eyes, Clef's teasing grin, Glitz' cheeky wink, and Slash's focused head tilt. "My kids, my beautiful sons and daughters and children who are neither and all of those things, show me your light, so I remember what is worth fighting for even when the darkest parts of the world come to test me."

Eve stepped out into the storm and reached for to the lightning, felt small bolts hit her circuits - glimpsed the black designs glow pink, and then white. "Will you help me fight those that prey on the innocent, and twist the minds of even the best of men?" She asked quietly. "Will you help me be a sword and shield and fortress, to protect those who can't protect themselves?" Frost's battle raged on, Eve noted sadly, ice and shadows clashing over and over. Shapes moved in the camp - leering ones, hulking ones, soldiers closing in. "Will you help me defend the innocent?"

The lightning curled around her, curious, ancient and yet so young. Who are you to demand such a thing of us? To try to command us so?

"Not command." Eve murmured back. "Never that. Asking, as- as a child begging for someone to keep the monsters from the door." She glanced behind herself, at Zahir trying to call her back to safety, at the adults standing tense and determined to protect the children huddled behind them to their last breath. "For their sakes, even more so than my own."

You ask as a child... One bolt came down. Then another. And another. More and more, weaving together - staying - forming a lattice that grew and strengthened with each new scorching addition, keeping soldiers and frigid darkness alike away. We look forwards to seeing what you grow into, little fledgling. You'll be an interesting one.

《 From @first-frost-fallen-snow ! I went for a sort of rescue theme, if that's okay, I figured it would be the most natural way to introduce the two in my world 》

"Oh, hello little one." Frost poked his head into the debris of a recently felled building, the district completely destroyed around it. In a war such as this one, it was often difficult to find survivors. He usually returned home empty handed and sorrowful. But, to his surprise, that wasn't the case today.

"Hold on just a moment, okay? I'm going to get you out of there." He kept his voice calm and soothing as he carefully shifted the rubble, using his ice magic to support the structure so it wouldn't come down as he started digging out an exit.

Eve whimpered, curled in a ball as much as she could. Nothing made sense.

She was small, and there were weird pulsing things inside her (organs, logic said, but that was impossible-). The world was different, unfamiliar, bright and dirty in ways no Grid had ever been. She'd scrambled to hide in a building, and something had brought it crashing down.

Her feathers wouldn't completely go away, a few small pink ones stubbornly threading through her hair.

...and her leg was stuck. Pinned under what used to be a wall.

It hadn't shattered into cubes, but the way it hurt and was leaking a little bit of red (like User life fluid-) was possibly worse.

She barely heard the friendly voice, big pink eyes flashing in the light when she looked up and saw another person. "Hurts." She managed to choke out, pointing at her leg. "Trapped."

#do whatever you like with the storm-character #are they a long-forgotten god? a hallucination? something else? who knows! certainly not eve

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universallychaoticpan · 3 years ago

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Glass butterflies

Jean x reader

now playing: mr/mme

It was a beautiful torture to raise your daughter alone. It was lovely and heartbreaking to see you in her every day, hear you in her voice and know all the that she wasn't you. That she was her own person, separate from you, and that he would never find another person like you if he searched for every eternity after death. For so long after you'd died, he'd held your child close to his chest, tears falling down his cheeks as she slept so serenely in his arms. She was all he had left, all he could live for now you were gone. So he watched her grow, watched her learn and live and love all the while unknowingly bearing the mantle of a woman she had never known;

bearing the memory of the woman she'd never called mother.

Through the years, Jean sealed you into a case of glass, away from the world that had stolen you from him, all the while asking why. Why had you been taken from him? Why had you survived all that you had, lived through walls rising and falling around you, only to die giving life to the one person you'd wanted to love more than anyone? Even on your death bed you were smiling, pressing kisses to your daughter's soft skin, knowing you'd never get to see her become someone. Why. he'd wonder, were you gone while he was allowed to stay? If anyone deserved to live it was you. You, who had been ready to give your last breath for your baby, ready and willing to lose everything to give her a chance.

He wondered these things as the walls around you grew higher, you faithful admirer keeping steady watch over the memory of you, every moment preserved so carefully as butterflies in amber; he kept you safe from the world, regret filling him as he remembered how he wasn't able to save you in the end. When it mattered most, when your hands were in between his own and your breaths growing labored and weak, when he held your daughter in one hand on you in the the other, he could do nothing. He was useless as he watched your eyes close for the last time, whispering I love yous to your skin like a prayer as your life passed before his very eyes. There was nothing to be done, no fight to be won, and yet your husband had raged against your fate, begging whatever cruel god watched not to take you. He'd watched so many people die, watched mothers mourn their children and those same children weep over the graves of their mothers. He'd hear Eren tell his tale, heard the way he'd watched his mother die and felt powerless. He'd thought he'd understood. But then, seeing you slip away between his fingers like running water, he knew what it was to be powerless. To want something, someone, so damn much it hurt, and yet have no power to keep them.

So he protected what he could, kept what was left of you safe in his heart, built his walls of glass around you as time passed with it's cruel unyielding march. Why doesn't it stop, he wanted to scream. Why won't you stop, pause, to recognize this loss? Time never stopped for a woman lost, just another body in the ground. The sun didn't stop burning for a mother dead, dying with the hope that her child would live. You had no anger, no resentment, not in your last breath. You were not bitter as death bore down on you, instead more sad as you took in the family you were leaving behind. Your eyes were full of apologies, to your husband, your daughter, that you had to leave them behind. That you had to go where they could not go. You ere not angry, but sad that you wouldn't get to grow old with Jean at your side; that you wouldn't get to know just who your daughter became.

It had only been seven years since you'd been gone, but it felt like a lifetime in and of itself. With glass butterflies hanging still in the minds of all who'd known you, the clocks had marked each second, each moment you weren't a part of. You were so far, so close, too little and too much, the way your spirit would slip away only to return with the fury of any hurricane until Jean swore he could feel you fighting to stay. He felt your hands, still cradling his heart, the way they had for so long. The pieces of you formed mosaics of reminiscing, like films to be plucked from a shelf. Through it all, your daughter absorbed every story, every memory passed from someone's lips, holding it away from the world like her own collection of secrets stars. Everything she learned she pressed into the caverns of her mind, until she was forming the image of you, piecing it together slowly. Too slowly. She felt your absence, despite never knowing who you were. She felt the space you'd left in her life, and wanted to know it all.

The day she asked sent the glass walls tumbling, gave the butterflies a chance to fly the way they were meant to. The night she asked her papa;

"Can you tell me about my mama?"

Her question sent the glass shattering, her eyes wide and innocent, curious and so full of hope it made him ache;

Those were your eyes.

He sighed, lifting her into his arms and placing her gently on the edge of her bed. His eyes were low and dark, mind racing as he scrambled to think of something to say. How would he even begin to describe what he had been? What the two of them had lost in loosing you? Somewhere he remembered what you had said to him that day, when he had been reeling and grasping at straws for some kind of hope. For someone to tell him it would be alright, that you would be alright.

But it hadn't been.

It hurt that the only way she would ever know you was through the stories he could tell; that she would never really know the extent of who you had been, how you'd lived with the burning intensity of a star who knew how fleeting her time was.

Jean knew he could never begin to encompass you in his words; but he knew he needed to try.

If only so you wouldn't be a stranger to your child.

"Where do I start," he laughed, closing his eyes to conjure you behind them. "Your mother was the most brilliant woman I ever knew. She was brave and clever as a fox, sharp and witty with a mind so fine it must have been crafted by a god. She loved winter mornings, how quiet they were, and the feeling of summer rain on her face. She liked to walk barefoot through the trees, to hear the birds sing when the ground was still wet from dew."

"Am I like her?"

The question was soft and uncertain, like she didn't want the answer. She was afraid that she had nothing that could keep you with her. That she had lost you forever, truly, that there was nothing she could hold or see that proved you weren't gone. Jean cradled her face with a hand, smiling gently down at her.

"You have her eyes. Every day I've been blessed by seeing her in your eyes, in your smile. That was hers, too. You think like her. Too quick for yourself, for anyone else. You think like an artist, like she did. You look at the stars and reach to touch them all, like she did. You would've found a way to find the very root of it all, then watch it grow and sprout into something incredible."

By now, he could see the tears brewing in her bright eyes, and held her close as he continued.

"She was so full of love, your mother. For you, for me, and it was stronger than anything you've ever seen. She was loyal to the end, a fighter who protected the ones she held dear with everything; she protected you with everything she had, and loved you so powerfully all the while."

"You both hate me, don't you? Because I'm the reason she's not here?"

That question knocked the air from his lungs entirely. It felt like someone had taken his heart and torn it from his chest anew, like there was a gaping hole he could never fill. With one question, your daughter had ripped him apart once more. By now, he could feel his own tears slipping from his eyes, your daughter refusing to meet them.

"How could we hate you, my love? Your mother died hoping she could have even a chance to love you the way she wanted too. She wanted so badly to know you that she gave up everything so you could live. Do you know what she was told, that day in the hospital? Her doctors told her if she continued with the birth, her body would loose too much blood to recvoer. She was told that in order for her to live, you would have to die. And do you know what she said? She said 'save my daughter. I don't care what you have to do, but keep her alive.' As she was dying she was apologizing to you, telling you how sorry she was that she had to go. How much she wanted to be with you, to hold your hands as you grew and found a place in the world. She loved you with everything in her, with every bone in her body. And so do I. I promised her I would love you enough for both of us. Your mama loved you so much."

Looking down at her, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, eyes still watery as she saved these new stories, fresh among hundreds, with her constellations of dying stars.

"She was never angry at you, love. Never. She fought hard just so you could carry on, so you could know how beautiful this life can be. And I'm not without her, either. She's still here, in the sunsets she loved to watch with me, the way the wind laughs through the trees. She's alive in the song of waves, in the colors bleeding into one another as the sun wakes the day. I see her there.

And I see her in you."

Jean didn't think he'd ever be ready to talk about you. He didn't think he'd ever feel like he could say your name without feeling that immense sorrow sweep through him, restless and turbulent waves of emotion that battered him. But he knew it was up to him to be sure you didn't disappear from your daughter's world. That you weren't forgotten.

Slipping into his own bedroom and sliding the door closed behind him, he felt something rip apart inside him. Something broke, snapped, something so painful and real that he fell to his knees in the darkness, the glass butterflies of his past swarming in his mind. He was filled with a million stories, a million moments he ached to relive.

The day he'd first kissed you, a dawn sky spread out before you as his hands pulled you close.

The afternoon sun that had shone so brightly when you'd married, clouds dancing high above in a sky of liquid sapphire.

The dusky scent of twilight on your skin as he lay with you in your bed, his hand on your stomach as you dreamed of a family together.

The night that had bloomed cold on your skin when you died, your infant daughter in your arms as your skin grew pale.

He remembered the way your eyes had looked, so soft and so mournful, the way everyone had cleared from the room to leave you together. The way not even a doctor stayed behind to help you; you all knew it was too late. He remembered too well your hands squeezing his as you felt yourself ebbing away.

"I'm scared," you had whispered then, eyes wide as you tried to deny what was happening "I don't want to die.

I don't want to go."

He remembered the way he'd held you close at your request, after you'd told him you didn't want to feel alone when you went. He remembered he told you it was alright, that you'd done enough, that you could rest. He had told you it was okay to let go, that it was his turn to be strong.

He remembered far too well how it had hurt to feel your last breath leave you, how he'd wept as he held your daughter close, the doctor covering your body in white that night.

So many nights he'd passed, covering paper with your likeness, sketching your eyes out in ink so he'd never forget. He remembered how his walls had been covered in remnants of you for weeks after, how coming home that night felt like opening a wound all over again.

Your perfume on the shelf.

You scent in the sheets.

Your wedding ring in the palm of his hand as your daughter had slumbered in his arms.

It all felt so real, even seven years later. It felt fresh and bloody, a wide gash carved through his life by the cruel blade of fate

He was left to wonder what you would say, what you would do, left to lie alone in the bed that had once been shared, and pretend he could be okay with you gone. But giving up wasn't an option. He would pretend until it was no longer an act, until your name in his mouth didn't sting like the bite of a bitter wind. Until he could think of you with the same joy, the same love, that you had offered him. He had too. He owed it all to you.

His daughter, who he lived for.

For teaching him to love, and how to loose.

He owed a lifetime of love to you, and paid with his heart, paid for every lesson in loving you'd ever taught him with a single glance, a gentle word, for every kiss on the lips of a woman living as bright as a dying star.

Thank you, y/n, for teaching me how to live.

He had released the glass butterflies from their prisons, finally let the glass walls break. That night, Jean freed you from your cage of stiff remembrance, and chose instead to let your memory breathe.

Thank you for every moment.

#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein angst #jean angst #jean x reader angst #aot x reader #aot x reader angst #snk x reader #snk x reader angst

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nightshade-minho · 4 years ago

Text

-Embers- (2)

warnings: heavy-ish suggestiveness, future smut, themes of heartbreak and pain, mentioned parent death, jealousy, angry fathers.

wc: 5.7k

Heartbreak.

It's something you've thought about, in theory. You've wondered how it feels to be heartbroken, especially when you were younger, when almost everything was of interest to your curious brain. Could a heart break? What exactly did that mean?

Mr Yang's novels were your first introduction to characters who'd gone through that pain. His books had described it as a perpetual feeling of hurt, one which a person would never get over. You wondered if it was even possible to experience pain like that. Pain so bad you felt your heart shattering.

You still remembered that day you thought about it properly for the first time.

***

You shut your book and looked over at Minho, who had been cloudgazing as he waited for you to finish it. Days like this were common. Minho would get you a new book every week, and the two of you would go to the lake and laze around in the sun. You often worried that Minho would find it boring to sit next to you while you read, having nothing to do. On the contrary, he was quite content with the way things were. He liked how warm the grass felt against his skin, and how calming the sounds of rippling water were as he rested his head against Aeracus’s side.

"Wow. That definitely didn't end on a good note." You shook your head, letting out a sigh and laying back.

Minho glanced up at you, sitting up slightly. "You finished it? So soon?"

"Mhm. I got a little too invested in the story."

"Ah. If I'd known you would read it this fast, I would have borrowed more than one from him."

"It's okay, I can wait a few days.' You say, your tone reassuring as you placed Mr Yang's precious book next to you on the grass, carefully. The man put great care into binding and writing his books, all by hand with no one to assist him. You didn’t want to be the one to soil his hard work.

"Good, cause I'm not going back there so soon. There's three girls who have basically set up camp outside Mr Yang's to catch a glimpse of me."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. "You act like you're a celebrity or something. We get it, you have a lot of fangirls."

"And fanboys. Some of them are quite cute actually. Just last week a dude proposed to me."

"No way. He proposed?"

"Yeah." He let out a low chuckle. "I think I recognized him from the docks. Seen him once or twice, but I've never said a word to him. I felt bad though, he was actually pretty."

"You should have said yes." You pouted, holding back a giggle. "I've always wanted to be maid of honor at a wedding."

Minho shook his head, sitting up and scooting over. Grabbing your waist, he pulled you into him, so that the both of you were curled up against his sleeping dragon.

"Maid of honor?"

"Yeah! I mean, what's the point of having a best friend if you don't get to play that crucial role in their wedding?"

Minho sighed, looking over at you with a fond smile as he bit his cheek. "Oh Y/n, what am I going to do with you? Maid of honor." He chuckled again at the exaggerated pout you flashed him, poking his side. “What’s so funny?”

There was silence for a few minutes as he looked up at the sky, eyes running over a cloud that looked a little like a five-pointed star. Humming, he leaned in a little.

A short inhale before he whispered into your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it and making your hairs stand on end.

"I hate to break it to you Y/n, but you'll never be maid of honor at my wedding." He mumbled softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Cause you'll be the bride."

For a minute, a stunned look passed over your face as you comprehended his words. It took a whole 60 seconds for you to process, but soon you swatted at his hand, descending into a fit of hopeless giggles at his cheesy line. "Shut up!"

"Hey! I was being serious." he had an offended look on his face as he held your chin, making you face him again.

You looked at his expression and stopped, your cheeks flushing as you realized he meant it. Your heart was racing, your eyes blinking rapidly as your mushy mess of a brain tried to figure out what an appropriate, mature response would be.

Quickly you pushed him off you, stumbling to your feet and beginning to run. So much for being mature.

"Race you home!"

Minho watched you run, shaking his head and sighing to himself as he slowly picked himself up. If only you knew how sincere he was.

If only he knew your heart hadn't stopped pounding for the rest of the night.

Mr Yang's books had been the main contribution to your adolescent fantasies, to be honest. As the local librarian, he supplied you with a regular supply of books, but none were as satisfying as the ones he wrote himself. His writing was descriptive on another level, and pulled you in like no other author could. He was your greatest inspiration, which was why his description of heartbreak had been the one to stick with you the most, all the way to adulthood.

It was described as a lingering emotion in the back of your head, staying with you your whole life to remind you of what could have been. It was nauseating, painful and everlasting. He'd written about the emotion so intensively, that at the time you almost felt like you did truly know how it felt.

You were wrong.

Heartbreak, real heartbreak, was a lot less pain and a lot more emptiness. Yes, it did feel like all those things mentioned before- but there was more to it than that. Your heart, which had been brimming with excitement and happiness not too long ago, felt void. Dark, lifeless. It had been so sudden, so out of the blue that your emotions were a confused jumble.

Of course, there was pain too- agony, more like. Ripping through your entire being as you watched him kiss her cheek yet again. It was so all consuming, so terrifyingly excruciating.

You were across the dinner table by your father's side, the spoon in your hand held in a tight grip as you tried your best to avert your eyes from the sight. After all, you were currently sat at the table with three other chiefs and their families, as well as a few advisors and high ranking guards. You had to look refined and elegant, a person befitting the title of Ember’s heir- not a gawking, bitter girl staring at your once lover canoodling with his fiancée.

Finally managing to tear your eyes away, you let your eyes run over the guests that would be staying with you for the next few weeks. You reminded yourself that you were in no position to be a dejected, woeful and pathetic individual in front of all these important people. Appearances had to be kept up, or you would face dire consequences. Your father’s pride was hurt enough as it is, what with his daughter being the only one who couldn’t participate in the championships. You didn’t want to give him any more reasons to hate you.

Next to your father was the Aqua chief, his wife and their daughter- Minho’s fiancée. They were dressed in blue silks, dripping with sapphires and lapides lazuli. The royal blue draped around them was deep, the fabric clearly expensive and not too unlike the dress you were wearing currently.

The Aqua heiress was the spitting image of her mother, both their faces round and their features pretty. She was dressed similarly to her parents, with a tiny diadem upon her brown locks, her gown objectively fancier than yours. She continued talking to Minho, the plate of food in front of her untouched.

Minho.

You hated how beautiful he looked, dressed in white and grey. His uniform was simple, all clean lines and crisp edges. It suited him perfectly, like it was made for him. Which it probably was.

The two of them seemed to be in their own little world as Minho whispered something into her ear, making her giggle yet again. Your throat felt clogged. Blinking, you quickly looked away from them, your eyes landing on Minho’s father. He looked the same as he always did, except now slightly frailer. He was wearing the same uniform as his son, although he didn’t quite fill it out the same way. You chewed on your lip, glancing at him one last time before turning to the Terra family.

The Terra chief was a rotund, pot-bellied man who had his attention completely focused on his plate, not contributing much to the conversation the three other chiefs were having. You couldn’t blame him, really- the maids had cooked up a delightful feast. You were sure you’d have devoured your entire plate by now if circumstances had been different. The empty feeling in your stomach was making it hard to savour the roast beef, which you reluctantly ate.

He and his wife were both dressed in earthly, neutral tones combined with deep greens- and positively covered in every kind of jewel found under the Earth. The rubies on your dress looked like chili flakes in comparison to the twinkling emeralds and gems on the Terra family.

Their son, the Terra heir, looked just as miffed as you, to be honest. He wasn’t as bejewelled as his parents, wearing a shade of green that provided you comfort as you looked at him. It reminded you of the grass near the lake you and Minho once frequented.

He caught your gaze suddenly. Smiling, his heart-shaped lips curving upwards. He shot a glance towards Minho and his girl, and then back at you, raising an eyebrow.

You tried your best to smile back, or give him a knowing wink, or something. But all you could do was stare blankly, your emotions having been sucked out of you. You still failed to comprehend what had happened, your brain seemingly giving up on you and leaving you alone with nothing but your broken heart for company.

Soon enough, the smile melted away from the man's face, and he looked back down at his plate, a little dejected. You felt a flash of regret, fleeting however as you suddenly felt a sharp voice whispering in your ear.

You looked up in confusion at your father, who had previously been immersed in a conversation with Minho’s father and the Aqua chief. Now his face was right by your ear.

"Number one, stop staring. You’re lucky I’m the only one who noticed. Number two, stop by my office before you go to sleep tonight, okay? It’s important." He said, voice stern.

Gulping and nodding, you watched as he turned away, diving right back into the conversation he was having. What did he possibly want to talk about? You rarely talked to your father these days, unless arguments could be counted.

You spent the rest of the meal in contemplation, staring down at your plate. Your hand moved methodically, shoving food into your mouth without actually tasting anything; All you could taste was regret.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Despite not looking up, her giggle still pierced your ears from time to time, stabbing you deep in the heart. You'd seen it...the way Minho had been looking at her. He'd once reserved such looks for you and you only. Turns out, every meaningful word he'd said back then were lies. Every promise of forever had been empty.

A small part of you reminded yourself that it wasn't his fault he was kicked out from your village. He’d thought you didn’t oppose your father, and simply watched as he and his father was humiliated. Were you being irrational in expecting him to have stayed single until he came back to you? Hell, was it stupid to think he could even bear to glance at you after what your father had did?

Life was unpredictable, nothing was written in stone. How could he even have known he'd ever be in the same room as you again?

No. Y/n, don't do this. Don't force yourself to make up excuses for him. The man had barely cast a glance at you since he arrived. His eyes had been cold and stony the only time you'd made eye contact.

Besides, if he really knew you, he would have known you wouldn’t betray him like that. And if he really loved you, he would have waited. He wouldn’t have moved on so easily.

It was still fresh in your mind, despite having happened a few hours ago, now. The way you’d felt your hopes and dreams shattering to the ground in a million pieces, all in a span of a few seconds. Your heart, vibrating so fast it was almost going to implode.

As you continued drowning in your emotions, reliving the pain you'd felt, you suddenly felt a pair of eyes burning into you, sharply. Confused, you looked up, expecting the Terra heir to be the one looking back at you.

It wasn't him.

Minho quickly looked away before you could react, going back to talking to the heiress. It had only been for a second, but you’d caught him.

He’d been staring. At you. For a second, the tiniest flash of hope lit up your heart. But it was gone quickly, as the Aqua chief started laughing boisterously at a question the Terra chief's wife had asked.

"Yes, Jisu and Minho are deeply in love, Calandra. Honestly. Why would they be getting married otherwise?" He smiled, looking over at the two who had stopped talking to listen.

"This one-" He ruffled his daughter's head, chuckling. "She was so smitten. Kept sneaking out past the border to meet him. Of course when I found out, I was more than happy to let them join hands. I couldn’t imagine a son better than Minho to marry my little girl."

"That's sweet." You glanced up at your father as he said the words. He seemed to be gritting his teeth in slight vexation, the annoyance on his face clear. At least, to you it was.

"The wedding will take place a month after the championships." Minho's father said suddenly, smiling proudly as he grabbed a glass of wine. "You're all invited, of course. It will take place at my village. Now, raise a glass for the happy couple!"

A few claps sounded as everyone at the table raised their glasses. You carefully avoided Jisu's shy smile and Minho's confident smirk, his arm wrapped around her shoulder firmly. As if she would break into a million pieces if he let go.

You hated that you knew exactly how he behaved when he was in love. And now you weren’t on the receiving end of his adoration.

You weren’t used to this.

Yes, you’d lived your life as normally as you could without him for the past few years...but this was different. He was right there, and yet he wasn’t yours. So close, but you couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t feel him. Couldn’t kiss his lips and tell him how much he meant to you.

Your eyes darted about as they tried to find an appropriate thing to focus your gaze on. You raised your glass like everyone else, downed the amber liquid a little faster than the rest. You refused to let yourself look at the two.

Your eyes landed on the Terra heir after a few seconds. You weren't completely sure what his name was, but you have a vague recollection of your father telling you everyone’s names. Of course, at the time you’d been too overcome with excitement to digest the information.

Felix? Yes, that was it.

He seemed sweet. Friendly, even. His smile was a little sympathetic as he looked back at you, and that threw you off. You decided to put a smile on your face immediately, trying to conceal the pain that you’d hoped wasn’t evident.

Your mind flitted back and forth as everyone’s plates gradually cleared up. What were you going to do after this?

Originally, you'd been planning to go to Minho's room tonight. Fuck, you’d dreamed of how tonight would go for months now, ever since your father had told you the news. But how could you now?

Everything was fucking disintegrating.

***

You walked down the hallway to your father's office, your heels clicking against the stone slabs. Your dress was starting to feel itchy, and you couldn’t wait to take it off. You resentfully recalled how excited you’d felt when your maids had helped you into it. How all you could think about was Minho seeing you in it. You’d never expected him to barely acknowledge you.

Sighing, you passed through the hallway, stopping when you heard a high-pitched giggle come out of nowhere.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glanced around you in confusion.

Another laugh, this one deeper, followed by what seemed like a...moan?

The pain came back full force, hurtling through you and overtaking you completely. As you walked, the sounds started to feel closer. You wished you could cover your ears to block them out, but at the same time you were consumed with curiosity. Was it what you think it was?

Suddenly, you heard another sound. Now, it was clear where they were coming from.

The sounds were from beyond the door that led to your father's old bedroom, the one he used to share with your mother before she died. You frowned, puzzled as you walked closer to the door.

Had he really given away that room to Minho and his fiancée? It hadn't been used in years, and had always been covered up and inaccessible. Even the maids weren’t allowed to clean in there. It was the biggest bedroom in the house, and the thought of it occupied by them was causing fresh tears to prick at your eyes.

You felt the lump in your throat make itself more prominent, blinking rapidly as your heart pounded. Suddenly, your legs started moving of their own accord.

Before you knew it, you were stood in front of the large door, your hand raised and knocking firmly on the gilded wood as you swallowed.

There was complete silence for a second or two, but then there were scrambling noises, along with the sound of rustling bedsheets. You tried to calm the beating of your heart, as you waited for the door to open.

When it finally did, you felt like your heart was almost about to burst out of your chest.

She was the one who opened it. She was clearly half naked, having pulled on a blue robe hastily. Running a hand through her hair, she greeted you, her voice a little shaky.

"Oh- um, hello…” She pressed her lips together, glancing behind her for a second. You followed her gaze, to Minho on the bed.

He was shirtless, his hair messed up and his eyes carefully trained on the wall beside him, away from you. You swallowed again, tears threatening to spill past your eyes as you quickly tried to turn your attention back to the woman in front of you.

Too late. She'd noticed. She frowned at you, subtly moving to the side a little to cover Minho from your view.

"I know we haven't formally met yet. I'm Choi Jisu, the Aqua heiress. I’m sure you know." She smiled, albeit a little forced. "And I did want to thank you for letting us stay-"

There was an impatient grunt from behind her, and she looked behind back briefly before turning to you once more.

"Um, I don’t know if you noticed, but I was kind of in the middle of something. Sorry." She tried her best to hide her smile, her voice heavily insincere. “Let’s talk later, Y/n. And maybe next time you won’t be interrupting anything.” She smiled, beginning to close the door.

"Later."

You just stood there dumbfounded, not knowing how to reply. Your face was passive but your brain was overrun with thoughts. The tears would spill any minute now.

She frowned at your reaction, tilting her head before gently shutting the door in your face.

You just stood there for a moment. You could hear Minho's voice, muffled as he said something to her.

A part of you wanted to press your ear to the door and listen, but you already looked pathetic enough to the guards standing in the hallway, one of them already having flashed you a sympathetic look. You were really having enough of all this fucking sympathy.

Sighing, you dragged your feet away, trying to push everything down, but to no avail. There were too many enotions, and they were too heavy to even let you think.

You thought back to her behaviour. You'd definitely picked up on her attitude, which had soured after she’d caught you looking at her fiancé. Jisu wasn’t a fan of you, that much was clear. And neither was the person who’d once declared himself your biggest fan. Ironic, really.

***

“Who was at the door?” Minho asked carefully, although he’d already seen you. Standing there, looking at him.

You’d looked smaller, vulnerable. So, so different. Almost alarmingly so.

He tried to best to keep his tone even, eyes trained on Jisu as she slunk back to the bed, having shut the door.

“The Ember heiress.” She said, a slight sting to her tone. “Why do you think she came?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I...don’t know.” Minho muttered, staring at the bedsheets. His heart was clenching, hands starting to shake a little.

No. Not in front of Jisu.

“Weren’t you two ‘best friends’ once?” She asked carefully, having picked up on his icy behavior. Jisu knew, of course. Despite Minho and you trying to keep it a secret, at one point the entire village came to know the two of you were in love. The information had even spread across the village, to others.

Of course, the chiefs were the only ones who’d been clueless, only finding out after they’d been separated.

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. He gestured to her, hooking his fingers under his boxers to pull them down. “Forget that. Come back here, baby.”

Jisu raised an eyebrow, looking like she wanted to say more. However, Minho’s almost naked body was difficult to resist.

Shrugging, she slid her robe off, letting the silk fall to the floor as she straddled him. His hands ran up her hips, watching her, feeling her.

His brain, however, felt like it was a million miles away.

***

The tears ran down your face. You were no longer able to hold them back. Realizing you were probably about to break down in the middle of the hallway, you walked faster towards the office-

Until you bumped into someone on the way, almost knocking them over.

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Felix chuckled, holding onto your arms to keep you on your feet.

You looked up at him, blinking as you registered what you’d just done. “Fuck- I’m so sorry-”

“No, it’s okay.” He smiled, realizing his hands were still on you. He quickly took them away, tucking them into his pockets. His cheeks were dusted a light pink as he cleared his throat, looking at you in concern.

You quickly wiped away your tears, but Felix had unfortunately already noticed.

“Hey, are you okay? I noticed... I noticed you didn’t seem so happy at the dinner.” He said softly, looking down at you.

You remained silent, staring at the floor as you wondered how to reply. You didn’t want to seem any more pitiable than you already were.

“Uh, it’s okay if you don’t want to say anything. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” He shook his head, stepping back slightly. His voice was almost more nervous than yours. “Um, I’ll leave you be now. Sorry-”

You looked up, sighing. “Wait…”

Felix looked back, an expectant, almost hopeful look on his face. You didn’t want to let him down, you really didn’t...but it was difficult to pretend like you were okay. You were shivering, biting on your lip. You already felt humiliated enough.

“Sorry. I...I need to go, I’m sorry.” You mumbled, quickly walking away from a bewildered Felix. As soon as you turned the corner, you breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall as your body shuddered.

You’d never cried like this, not even when Caeli had died. Not even when Minho had left, because back then you’d still possessed some kind of hope. Hope that just wasn’t there anymore.

Rubbing your cheeks, you managed to get rid of the tear stains. You hoped your eyes weren’t too red- you weren’t ready for any comments from your father today. Breathing in, you continued walking, still massaging your eyes in a desperate bid to get them dry.

You groaned as you noticed you’d reached your father’s office quicker than you thought you would. Inhaling deeply, you tried to pull yourself together. You really didn’t like showing weakness in front of him, but lately that was all you did.

You knocked on the door carefully, waiting for him to open the door.

“Door’s open, come in.”

You pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping in.

"Y/n. Finally. Where have you been?"

"Nowhere important." You said quickly, clearing your throat. "Um... you said you wanted to see me, dad?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes." He rearranged the files on his desk quickly, standing and coming over to lean on the front of his desk. He sighed, screwing his face up in thought as he wondered where to start.

"I can’t believe Lee really scored a marriage for his son. Do you know what this means? A heir marrying an heiress? They'll possess power we can’t even begin to imagine." He paced back and forth, clenching his fists in barely concealed anger. You rolled your eyes slightly. Of course your father thought it was a ploy to gain power. He’d never believed in love, and most probably never will.

“So?”

"So? So?!” He shook his head. “See, this is exactly why the villagers think you’re too incompetent.” He glared, making you cower. Your heart pounded quicker, your lips pressing together. No more tears, you had to control them.

“Look, Y/n...I’ll put it plain and simple. Ember has been the most powerful for centuries. We’ve always had the strongest dragons, and the sturdiest men. Our village is the largest in the country, and all eyes are on us.”

He pinched his forehead. “Do you know how embarrassing it is that Ember’s heiress, the one who should be the most powerful of all, is nothing but a lovesick, pathetic little girl who doesn’t even have a fucking dragon to compete with?!”

You blinked, sniffing as you stared at the floor. You could always count on your father to reinforce negative emotions. His eyes burning into you, chest heaving in anger.

He sighed, watching as your shoulders shook slightly. Softening a little, he inhaled. It always went that way. He’d blow up at you, and subsequently regret it. He couldn’t take back anything he said, though.

“Sorry, child.” You remained silent, looking up a little. His face seemed sincere enough.

“Hm. I have an idea..." He mumbled, placing a finger on his chin. You could almost see the cogs and gears turning in his brain.

"What did you think of Felix? Nice boy, isn't he?"

You frowned at your father's words, his expression seeming innocent...but his intentions clearly weren't.

"The Terra heir?" You asked, sighing. "He seems nice. Why are you asking?"

"No reason." He shrugged, fiddling with the Ember figurine on his desk.

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Dad...don't tell me you want to marry me off to him."

"What?? No!" Your father shook his head vehemently, still playing with the figurine and avoiding your eyes. "I was just thinking. Uh-"

He looked back at you and sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. But...just consider it, okay? An arranged marriage...an alliance between Ember and Terra could be phenomenal."

You pursed your lips, flashes of Minho and Jisu running through your head as you thought it over. Fuck it, why not? It wasn’t like you had any reason to oppose him. "Fine, dad. I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything. Besides, I don’t even know if he’s interested in me."

"I saw the way he was looking at you from across the table, child. He definitely has some curiosity, at the very least.” He hummed. “Anyway, that's actually not why I called you here."

You raised an eyebrow, confused as he went back to his seat, sitting down and pulling up a large, dusty book.

"Look...I'm worried. There's something ominous about this. Their marriage...it poses too many conveniences and benefits for both the chiefs to be a mere coincidence.”

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked to be deep in thought. When he heard you speak, he snapped back to attention, shaking his head. "I’m not sure yet. Now, even if I managed to convince Farran to get his child married to you, it still doesn’t provide us power directly. Without a dragon, it’s likely they’ll make you reside in the Terra village once this is all over.” He hummed, looking like he was talking to himself rather than addressing you. “No...we need a reason to make you stay here. You’re an Ember heiress, the future chief of this legendary village. However, you definitely need to look the part. You need to prove to everyone that you’re powerful, Y/n. Shatter their expectations...and mine.” He smiled, gesturing for you to come closer.

“I was wondering...do you want to participate in the championships?"

Your eyes widened impossibly, your words stuttering as you moved forward. You couldn’t believe your ears, not one bit. It sounded too good to be true.

“Wait- really?”

“Yes.”

“But...but I don’t have a drag-”

“You can participate with Aeracus.”

No. No way. For the first time since the welcoming, you felt true happiness overtake you. Jumping, you squealed in delight, barely able to hide your glee. “Oh my god, thank you, dad! Thank you so so much.”

He chuckled as he watched you, flipping a page. “This has never been done before, so expect some backlash. I’m sure once they see the bond you have with Aeracus though, they’ll change their minds.”

You couldn’t believe it. Your father, the most skeptical dragon purist the world had ever seen, was acknowledging your bond.

“But...what about Minho?”

“Aeracus is no longer his dragon, Y/n. He has a new one.” Of course, you’d noticed. The huge black dragons he and his father had been riding. You felt a sensation of unease drift through you as you thought about the creatures, the likes of which you’d never seen before.

New lover, new dragon. He’d really left this place behind.

“Something’s off about those dragons.” He voiced the exact same concern you had. “They’re up to something. I just don’t know what.” He turned back to his book, taking his quill back up. “I’ll find out, though. Somehow. Now, go to sleep, kid. You have a big day tomorrow, now that you’re actually participating.”

You nodded, excitement coursing through your veins. “Sure, dad. Have a good night.” You bowed and turned around, your steps a lot lighter as you headed to your room, which was close by.

Reaching your room, you pushed open the door, smiling as you noticed Sylvia fast asleep at your dressing table. Moving slightly closer, you gently nudged her awake.

“Wha- I-” She shot up, mouth open as she bowed to you. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I was just arranging and-I’ll help you out of your dress, now-”

“Sh, it’s okay. Tonight’s been tiring. You deserve the rest.” You said sadly, patting her shoulder as a yawn left your mouth. “Go to sleep, and don’t come by tomorrow. I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself. I want you to relax, okay? Head to the docks, or buy yourself some bread in the square.” You opened a tiny drawer and handed a few coins to her, enough to get some sweetbread from the bakery.

She nodded thankfully. “You’re the best, ma’am.” She giggled, accepting the coins from you.

“What have I told you about calling me ma’am? We’re the same age, Sylvia, it makes me uncomfortable. It’s Y/n to you.”

“Fine. Y/n.” She smiles, heading to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”

You grinned widely at that. You loved how easygoing she was, unlike Ann, your head maid. You weren’t royalty, and hated being treated as such. A friend was all you needed, to be honest. And Sylvia managed to fill the best friend sized hole Minho had left behind, somewhat.

She closed the door behind her, and you sighed, flopping down onto your soft bed and beginning to slip off your heels and the heavy dress, carefully placing it on a rack. The moon shone extra bright today, and you noticed the streets outside were still lit up with lanterns. Soon, they’d be turned off, and the streets would be quiet once more, except for a few drunken stragglers that didn’t want to stop celebrating.

And you would be left alone with your thoughts.

You slid yourself underneath your covers, sighing as you stared at the moon. In the distance, you could see a few dragons and their riders, flying through the air. They were quite far away, possibly near the outskirts.

Tomorrow, you’d be able to ride Aeracus like that, after so many years. Every time Minho had let you climb atop his dragon, it had just felt like it was meant to be. Deep down, you felt bad, though...for Caeli, for Minho. However, it was just the plain truth.

You smiled as you decided to buy Aeracus a bunch of treats tomorrow. Ostrich eggs, phoenix meat- you were planning to go all out. He deserved it, after all.

In a way, tonight had possibly been the worst night of your life, and simultaneously the best. Your heart felt pulled in two, as you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep.

You had a big day tomorrow.

#minho smut #minho angst #lee know smut #lee know angst #felix fluff #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz angst #skz series #stray kids series #minho imagines #minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #felix x reader #minho x reader #minho fluff

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lightdancer1 · 3 years ago

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A preview of the upcoming chapter of Where Gods and Mortals Meet

Ursa looked at her children with a frown on her face. It had been two months since her seizure of power. Thus far the Fire Nation Army remained locked in the Siege of Ba Sing Se, and part of her wondered if she'd been a little excessive in worrying that the army, once it committed to a decisive trial of strength with all the best formations drawn into it, might have turned against her.

Azula was fully free of the infirmary but her Firebending, which had been vastly in acceleration of Zuko's....the closest word she could think of for it was flickering. At one level Ursa fully expected this *could* happen. Children did not have the kind of things that happened to Azula happen to them without visible traces. The fireball Azulon had fired at her had scarred her face, giving her a visible element of an almost chiaroscuro pattern that left her feeling a *killing* rage whenever she saw that (though she had learned from Ozai and their marriage how to suppress that lest others expect it and her child had suffered *enough*).

She was watching them in Firebending training, something Ozai had done in the past. Zuko's Firebending remained weaker, if improving now that he seemed less....fearful. Perhaps that was the word. Azula was frustrated, as her fires did not behave as she wished. When she tried to do a kick and produce a stream of fire and nothing happened she burst into tears, as a girl her age would (another twinge, a recognition to her that she had seen a *child* as a monster suiting someone Ozai's age).

Zuko noticed and finished his own move next, because one could not call upon the flames and leave undone what was started and then went over to her. "It's OK, Lala." Ursa remained silent for a moment, watching her kids together.

Azula took a deep breath.

"Zuzu," she began, and Ursa's old expectations would have led her to expect her daughter to push her son or to attack him. Instead she just took a few deep breaths and went away to sit down with her hands folded in front of her chest. Zuko looked at her with a confused look on his face and it was then that Ursa stirred herself.

At the sight of the Fire Lord, who'd seen her fires flickering, walking toward her Azula's face was suddenly marked by a visible fear and by her scrambling backwards. That brought Ursa up short for a moment until she reflected on who had likely been training her daughter and with that, she made a careful point to show only the kindest expression on her face, as Azula curled up like she was afraid of some kind of punishment.

Ursa sat near her daughter, brushing her hair gently.

"You are not your Firebending," she said softly (in later years Azula would mourn for the loss of Mother, for it was Mother who spoke these words and the Fire Lord, the stoic and vindictive tyrant who was consumed by the Lie would never do so). "You were hurt, and hurt badly. You are allowed to be hurt, my Fire-lily. And to make mistakes.

You are my child, and I always love you, and I always will."

#atla aus #where gods and mortals meet #azula heresy

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ceescedasticity · 3 years ago

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perspectives on the first kinslaying, xxxii

(you might want to check out the other parts first)

(and/or read what’s on AO3)

Queen Nénwen:

Glavarë did not hit quite as hard as Elulindo or Volue. I'm sure it was partially because he was farther away. Maybe—

I <em>have</em> talked about this — with other mothers in Alqualondë. With Eärwen, later on. It seems abominable, to say you can get used to feeling your children die. Maybe it's better to say you learn how to protect your heart, a little. It hurts no less, but it's not so incapacitating.

Despite this, this part of the tale would better be told by Eärwen, but she is somewhere off the coast of Middle-earth. (She commands the ships that receive the small enclaves of refugees as they are rescued, and also wait in case things go wrong and the host is driven to retreat to the sea.) (Olwë and I would not have blamed her if she declared herself Noldorin-by-marriage and so not forbidden from setting foot ashore, but our people might have felt differently. Artanis came out to see her once, just after the host arrived, before being drawn inland by responsibility. Eärwen will not return here even briefly lest she miss another opportunity.)

As it is, Eärwen is not here, and I must do my best.

Telperin dying was the first notice I'd had of his leaving the mansion — there was so much going on with the slow crumble of the Cradle we didn't miss him until he was past gone. And between him and Glavarë we didn't realize we'd lost Néthalinda until the handmaiden I'd had watching Luinél reported she'd woken up briefly and said someone about both her parents.

Hearing that some apprentices had brought Nettë back was the first good news I'd heard since this started, and Artanis's arrival with Calarue was the second.

Luinél Glavariel:

Around the time they started bringing in the injured from the collapse of the Cradle and the fighting in the streets, they moved me into the resting room for healers on duty. Grandfather was lying on one couch, and Grandmother sitting on another with her head in her hands. The room didn't usually have treatment beds, but two temporary ones had been set up. I got put in one of them.

After a minute or two someone carried Nettë in. They set her in a chair, not the other bed, even though she was just staring and not answering them. I tried ósanwë, since we were so close — it was like sticking my hand in a bucket of sea urchins.

A little while after that some people carried Calarue in, Artanis trailing behind them. Artanis sat next to Nettë and stared at her hands. (Nettë kept staring through the wall.) The other people tried to get Calarue settled in the other bed. He kept making these little pained noises. Two different healers-I-think looked at and listened to Calarue's knee and invoked Lady Nienna. I don't feel that was a very helpful attitude.

(Calarue's mind felt like an open wound. Artanis's was closed up tight.)

Queen Nénwen:

We'd lost three sons, two law-daughters, two grandsons, and a law-granddaughter at that point. Having Nettë, Calarue, Luinél, and Artanis together in one place where I could see them was a relief, despite how awful they all looked.

—And trying to discuss possible strategies with Eärwen and Phile in front of the grandchildren was awkward, but not as awkward as it would have been in front of an entire hall of the injured.

Some of the wounded from the Cradle collapse, the ones who'd been on the Cradle, had provided a… reasonably detailed summary of what was going on around Whale Quay, which was horrifying. Calarue was in communication with Málawen, who knew more or less what Dammiwen was doing. Eärwen herself had seen from the upper windows that Pearl Quay and Coral Quay were mostly under control of the Noldor, though there were some pockets of resistance.

We weren't sure what to do. Phile thought perhaps we might call Dammiwen to the wharves? But then Olwë woke up, properly.

"No," he said wearily, getting off the couch he'd been laid on. "No. Let them take the ships and go."

There was a cry of protest from almost everyone in the room, especially Luinél. Nettë and Artanis lunged over to make sure she didn't spring out of bed.

"We have died enough for this," Olwë said, unyielding. "There is enough blood on our hands. Let them take the ships and go, and let the Valar deal with them."

#perspectives on 1st kinslaying #tolkien #reckless application of spackle #other fic #second one today

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d-noona · 4 years ago

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MAKE OVER

Chapter 14: Tinashe

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Another talk less drive to Hoseok's home. More nerve racking tension.

And doubts. Terrible doubts.

What am I doing? Hyeonji agonized. This isn't me, I'm not a sex-monster. I know I'm not. So what am I doing letting Hoseok reduce me to nothing but a sexual challenge?

A member of Bangtan Sonyeondan was belting out a song, singing about love in their distinctive style.

Love! God, but she was beginning to hate that word. And the state. Being in love was totally self-destructive. Look what it had done to her mother. She'd loved her father who'd been a womanizer and wastrel. He'd brought her nothing but heartache and misery.

Now here she was, her mother's daughter, wasting her love on the wrong man. Maybe Hoseok wasn't a rotter or a wastrel but he had one major flaw. He didn't love her back. If he did, he wouldn't be doing this, would he? He'd be....

Hyeonji sucked in a startled breath as a possible defect in her reasoning broke through her mental ramblings. The question she'd just asked herself could have been the wrong question. What if she'd asked how Hoseok would be acting if he definitely didn't love her? If he disliked and disapproved of her new self as much as he said he did. For one thing he would not have come over today. He would have been only too happy to see the back of her. He certainly would have not raged at her then vowed to turn her into some kind of sex slave!

Hyeonji took a deep breath and tried not to get too carried away with this new theory to explain Hoseok's some what alien actions. It was always possible that she'd somehow captured his sexual interest in a way previously unknown to him, and he just could not handle his new feelings towards her. Clearly he was jealous of the idea of her with any other man.

Their arrival at Hoseok's place brought a swift end to this new and rather exciting train of thought. Still, Hyeonji vowed to stop being so obsessed with her own feelings and more observant about Hobi's. She appreciated, however, that cool reasoning was difficult when your nerve-endings were dancing and all you could think about suddenly was what Hoseok would do when they were alone in his loft.

He seemed tense himself, dropping his keys at the door then fumbling with the lock. He finally flung the door open and stalked inside. Hyeonji let out her long held breath then followed his wake. She was about to say something when a voice interrupted her, a low, husky female voice.

"Glad to see you finally came home, babe. I don't know about you, but this last month has been the longest in my life. So I didn't want to waste my time..."

Hyeonji could not see who had spoken. Hoseok stood in her line of sight. But she recognized the voice. Tinashe had a very distinctive delivery.

"For pity's sake Tinashe!" Hoseok exclaimed. "I have someone with me."

Hyeonji stepped out from behind Hoseok's suddenly frozen stance to see what had shocked him. Tinashe was draped in the bedroom doorway, stark naked. If ever Hyeonji had cause to feel inadequate, it was at that moment. She could not fault Tinashe's tall voluptuous body. Anywhere. The only remote flaw she could find was that Tinashe's nakedness confirmed what a jealous Hyeonji had always suspected - that Tinashe was not a natural blonde.

Still such small imperfection was little comfort in the face of such amazing figure. Tinashe slightly thrown by the unexpected presence of another woman. Her artfully raised arms dropped languidly to her sides and she rolled her eyes at Hoseok in mild exasperation. "Really, babe. This is the day we agreed to get together again. Had you forgotten? Maybe I left you alone for too long..."

She actually sashayed into the room, utterly unabashed of her nakedness. Her long blonde hair shifted in sensual disarray across her shoulders, her melon-like boobs undulating sensuously, bringing attention their lush size, plus their very pink, very pointed nipples. Hyeonji would not have put it past her to have painted the damned things, then iced them to their present stunning erect state.

"Why don't you tell this little sweetie to run along?" Tinashe said, waving a dismissive hand in Hyeonji's direction. "You really don't want to stay, do you, sweetie? Hoseok clearly has been a naughty boy in not telling you he already has a girlfriend." Hoseok glared his fury at her while Hyeonji gathered all her courage. "My name is Hyeonji, not sweetie," she said coolly. "And I'm afraid it's you who's going to be leaving, Tinashe, dear. Hoseok has indeed been naughty, but only in not calling you today and telling you it's over between you two. Right? Darling." And she linked arms with Hoseok, fluttering her eyelashes up at him as she gazed adoringly to his stunned face.

Tinashe at last looked annoyed. Her hands found her hips and she ppered at Hyeonji with narrowed eyes. "Hyeonji did you say?"

She took an aggressive step forward and looked Hyeonji up and down. "My God, it is!" She sneered. "It's the mouse from next door. I just didn't recognize her. I always knew you were a sly piece of shit. Did you think you had me fooled with your goody librarian routine? I saw the way you drooled over Hoseok when he wasn't watching. I knew you were jealous and you were just waiting on your chance to get your hooks in. Just good friends my ass."

Tinashe looked over at Hoseok "So tell me, what did she do babe? Confessed her long time love? Kissed your fucking feet? Promised undying devotion? No. I dont think that would've worked. You would run a mile away! You like your women assertive and independent, not simpering and clinging!" Tinashe gave Hyeonji another savage glance, then laughed. "Aaah. I get it. She played the make over game. Changed her hair and clothes. Worked on her fat ass."

"That's enough!" Hoseok ground out.

"Oh no, no, no...it's not," Tinashe returned, scornful and defiant. "It's not nearly enough. I'm going to have my say. I am not going to crawl out here with my tail between my legs! I am going to make you see that that bitch there is even more manipulative than I am!" She then turned to face Hyeonji, "tell me, what did you dangle him, hmmm princess? Your priceless virginity?"

When Hyeonji's face flamed, Tinashe triggered. "Oh, that IS priceless. And you fell for it Hoseok? I'm surprised. I thought you were more sophisticated than that. But I guess deep down all men are suckers for untouched vagina? The poor misera-"

Tinashe never got to finish her tirade of insults. She was too busy squawking when Hoseok threw her over his shoulder and marched her to the door. But she soon found her voice again, screaming a string of obscenities at Hoseok when he dumped her, in a none too flattering heap, in the hallway. Her clothes followed, then her purse-minus a key, an open-mouthed Hyeonji noticed.

"Goodbye Tinashe," he said coldly. "I would have liked to have done this decently. But decency would be wasted on you. I'm sure you won't have a hard time finding some sucker with low standards as yourself." And he slammed the door shut on her, shooting the lock across with a savage flick on his wrist. When he turned, he actuallt shuddered. "I cant believe I ever considered going back to that...creature!"

Hyeonji's estimation of Hoseok went up a thousand fold. Which meant it was now off the planet. "Well that was interesting. I must say she is...was...very beautiful.," she said. "And I dare say good in bed."

Hoseok grimaced. "I doubt anything about her is good except her acting. I would rather have five minutes in bed with you, Hyeonji, than a lifetime with her. You leave her for dead in every department. And you're just as beautiful."

Hyeonji's heart caught. "Not really Hobi," she murmured. "But it's nice of you to say so."

"No I mean it. You have a beauty which will last, because it comes from within. Not that I dont think youre very attractive," he said as he drew her into his arms. "You are. And very sexy too. In fact you're more sexy with your clothes on than Tinashe is stark naked. I see now that true sexiness comes from what a woman subtly offers a man. A willingness to give as well as receive. And trust. It wasn't so much of your virginity I found enchanting last night, but your trust. You trusted me with your body, and even your life. That blew me away. You blew me away. I couldn't sleep all night thinking of you., and wanting you again. What I said to you earlier, Hyeonji...I didn't really mean that. I would never do anything to hurt you. I was just going mad with wanting you. And I was in flat panic that you were going off and find someone else."

She cupped his handsome face and tried to still her racing heart. "You mean you're bot going to bow me to your will through fair means or foul? You're not going to try to turn me into some sex slave?"

Hoseok laughed "God, no. I don't know what got into me."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, smiling saucily into his very serious face. "I was kinda looking forward to it."

His brown eyes jerked wide, then narrowed. "I have an awful feeling you mean that."

"I do in a fashion..." Hyeonji replied, Hoseok quirked his head to the side "What kind of fashion?"

"I don't want you to hurt me, but I was looking forward to all those experiences you promised." She kissed him lightly on the lips "and be my master...." she kissed him again, not quite so lightly. "And my own personal devil..." her third kiss left him breathing heavily. "But most of all," she whispered huskily, "I was counting on you taking me to that mysterious level of surrender."

His expression had darkened during her provocative confession. She wasn't sure if she had shocked him to the core this time or not. He was certainly pretty still, but then a slow smile pulled at his nicely shaped mouth, and a wicked grin brightened his beautiful brown eyes.

"You do know what happens to little girls who play with fire, don't you? Hmmm...Baby girl?"

She gulped. Had she gone too far? She thought...

"Er..."

"Too late," he snapped, and scooped her up into his arms. "You cant throw down a challenge like that to a man like me, then try to back out." He began to stride towards the bedroom.

"But I...I..."

He halted in the doorway. "You what? Use your words baby girl, or forever hold your peace."

Hyeonji bit her bottom lip and Hoseok swept into the room, suddenly throwing her on his bed laughing devilishly. The boy meets evil.

Chapter 15

Masterlist

#BTS #BANGTAN SONYEONDAN #BTSJHOPE #JUNGHOSEOK #JUNGHOSEOKXREADER #JHOPEXREADER #HOBI #BTSFANFIC #BTSROMANTICFANFIC #MAKEOVER

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