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crisalidaseason · 2 years ago

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Who is the monster, who is the human?

Chapter 2 - Infirmary visits (check index for more) (check chapter 1 here)

Chapter summary: You fall ill and frequently visits the infirmary, Armin is also there and you two talk a little.

Tags and CW: reader has a fake name, chronically ill reader, based on my symptoms but I tried to make it vague, fainting, migraines, chronic fatigue, mentions of bandaged wounds, mentions of past neglect and death, past medical neglect, slight angst, reader has a very negative and pessimistic view of their disability, a bit of chemistry talk (not much, bc I am not an expert)

A month after your team arrived at Paradis Island, you felt like a year had passed. Everyday, for thirty days, you found yourself organizing the labs, cataloging safety equipment and glassware, starting on producing some plant extracts, helping the physicists with their fueling alternatives. There was not a single hour of the day you were not working, and that quickly caught up to you.

“That’s not good” Viktor said while fanning you with a hardcover book “we should take you to the infirmary”

“I am fine” you said “I’m just tired”

You were not fine, your limbs and breathing were not responding well throughout the week and it was worsening with every passing day. You felt sore and moving was more difficult than usual. You still blamed the heat, but realistically it could not be the only reason. Your body was failing you again.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary” Viktor said “please do not protest”

The tall boy grabbed your right arm, pulling you against his side and encouraging your legs to work again. You flopped back into your seat. Viktor sighed in frustration, he would not be able to carry you to an infirmary properly.

“Wait here, don’t move”

You wanted to send him a hard stare, but your head was heavy, so you chose to flip him instead. A few moments later, you heard Maria and Viktor approaching.

“They’ve been like this for about an hour” he said to Maria.

“My my” she said, approaching your weak frame “you look like shit, come on, let’s get you checked”

Maria was significantly stronger than Viktor, her grip was firm enough that your legs were barely touching the ground. Your vision was too blurry to make out the way, but at some point you found yourself in front of a large door frame leading to the infirmary.

“Nurse” Viktor called from the doorway, knocking.

“Come in!” said a female voice.

“My comrade isn’t well” Maria said “I think they’re about to faint”

The woman, probably the nurse, appeared and quickly guided Maria to the nearest bed.

“The heat is not kind to foreigners, let me grab some iced water to cool them down” the woman disappeared between the curtains.

“go back to the lab” you managed to say “sterilize the glassware-”

“Alright, shut up” Maria said “we can spare some hours to make sure you’re safe”

You sighed in frustration. You really wanted things to be over already, there was no need for two people to worry about something you had your entire life, you did not want anybody by your side. The illness was yours to suffer.

“Please go back” you insisted.

It took some convincing, and the nurse kicking them out, for you to finally be alone. The middle aged woman delicately placed a cold cloth on your forehead and on the back of your neck, rubbing some sort of cream under your nose and between your brows. You were not sure when you slipped into unconsciousness, only noticing when you woke up to someone rustling close by. There were sounds of someone squeezing the water out of a cloth, the cold sensation startled you a little when the person placed it on your head.

“How long have I been out for?” your voice was rough, but at least you could form a sentence.

“About an hour”

The voice was smooth, neither deep nor high pitched, a perfect balance in between. Not at all the voice of a middle aged nurse. You curiously opened your eyes, only to have them almost pop out of your sockets. It was him! The boy from the mess hall with the strangest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was close enough for you to notice the bag under his eyes, a deep purple color. You wondered what he was doing there, he had gauze wrapped around his wrists and probably arms and torso, if the piece of wrapping peeking through his shirt was any indication.

“You’re not the nurse” you blurted.

His light brows were rather expressive, frowning at you.

“Um…sorry, Miss Bront is the only nurse in here”

You made a gesture with your hands, telling him not to worry.

“I mean you are also hurt, should you be standing and tending to another person?”

“I don’t mind doing her a favor. Also, I am not hurt” he said “technically”

“What do you mean?” you were beyond confused.

“Long and unnecessary story” he said “besides, I am in much better condition than you are. What happened?”

He was wrapped like a piece of dry meat, you doubted he was in better shape.

“Nothing that concerns you. No offense…what’s your name?” you asked.

“Armin Arlert”

What an odd name, you thought.

“Well, Armin Arlert, no offense, but I’d rather share this story with the nurse”

“Fair enough…name?”

“Obizu” you said, giving him the fake name you always used.

“Fair enough, Obizu” he concluded.

A few moments passed. He was sitting beside your bed, illuminated by the early afternoon sunlight. You found yourself staring at his defined profile, he had an upturned nose that could send any marleyan woman into an envy induced rage, at the same time, his jawline was prominent and delicate. His short hair was a pale warm yellow and seemed to be the softest. His appearance was strange and balanced, you imagined that made him stand out anywhere. You broke your stare, there was nothing beneficial in finding that boy attractive.

“I thought this place would be chaotic and full” you said, noticing the rather calm ambience.

“It’s usually more crowded during cadet training season” he said, resting his eyes on you “they graduated last month”

“You’re here often?” you mocked “you know quite a lot”

“Yes, I am here often” his voice sounded annoyed at something.

You did not ask why, despite your curiosity. He stood up to damp the cloths again, which gave you an opportunity to see him better. He had an average height for an eldian, they were usually very tall, he had a leaner physique and surprisingly gracious movements. It was hard to figure his age, he looked so young and also older at the same time.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” the nurse from before said, opening the curtain “thank you, Armin, now go back to your own bed, I’ll check you healing stage pretty soon”

Armin nodded, pulling the curtain and disappearing. The nurse rubbed more of what seemed to be menthol on you, which was odd and unfamiliar. You never had a nurse put actual care and attention on you, the nurses in Marley would not even bat an eye at your unconscious form, Viktor and Gael often had to beg someone to spare you a look.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked.

“I just overworked myself” you said.

She nodded, asking you to turn around with a gesture. You laid on your side while she rubbed the menthol on the back of your neck.

“I’ll give you a can of this mint paste, it should help with the pressure on the head. It won’t cure the issue but it mitigates the symptoms a little. The best would be to cool down after being exposed to the heat”

You nodded, not even bothering to tell her the heat sickness was the last problem in your body. There was no need in telling her either since, realistically, you would never recover. This illness was your companion since childhood, worsening with every passing year of your life as if a punishment for all of your wrong deeds. There was a point in life you tried to heal and cure whatever this illness was, but after all you lived through, after all those years in your line of work, you almost felt unworthy of healing.

“Thank you” you simply replied.

The nurse asked you to remain there the rest of the afternoon, the dizziness still preventing you from moving without throwing up. You barely noticed when the curtains moved, the nurse reapplying the menthol and also giving you some nausea medicine when your gagging turned audible enough. She tried to feed you soup a few times, but you refused it, not sure if you would be able to keep it in your stomach. Slipping in and out of consciousness, you ended up moved from the infirmary to most likely your room, not sure of how you made it.

The next day you were feeling weak, your vision blurry and limbs trembling. Viktor and Gael managed to bring you some soup, coaching you to drink it and eat some fruits he somehow had access to. You wanted to ask where he got that sort of food, but waited for your voice to find its way. It took an entire morning and afternoon of small drinks and bites of food, menthol in ungodly amounts, some peppermint tea to help with the nausea and hydration until you felt less bad.

“Your face has color again” Gael said when you managed to eat the last of the banana slices.

Gael was not your favorite person in the world, but you had to admit he earned your gratitude for the amount of times he dealt with your illness. He was an understanding man, one of the few people who never scorned you for falling ill.

“Commander Hange will be glad to hear you’re starting to recover” he said again “they were concerned”

The commander? How strange, you thought.

“Did they provide this food?” you managed to blurt out.

“Yes!” Viktor said “they sent their assistant here with a tray of decent food, we were all confused by how they even knew you were unwell”

‘Decent’ was not doing the food justice, fruits were almost luxury in Marley. You were a little uneasy, why would the commander even remember you enough to care for your well being?

“Maybe the nurse said something?” Maria said, leaning on the door.

“There is even a note!” Gael said.

He gave you the piece of paper, your eyes took a while to focus on the nice handwriting.

Sending you some of the good resources we have access to in hopes you can heal better. It is not much, but hopefully it gives you a kickstart on your healing.

Commander Zoe and assistant Arlert wish you a full recovery

Assistant Arlert, as in Armin Arlert maybe. You stared at his name on the paper. You refused to believe they did out of pure kindness, it made absolutely no sense. Were you so miserable looking when Armin was watching over you? Did he simply feel compelled to help you? Or was it all a smart move to infiltrate himself in your group with ill intentions? You had no idea, but you had half a mind to not let yourself feel grateful until you found out the reason behind it.

“What did I miss?” you changed the subject.

“Not much” Viktor said, sitting on the foot of your bed “we visited the ice-fire mines the island is so famous for, finished cleaning all the glassware for you and Sofia, bought some plants you often use and acquired some of the confidential documents to start working on their weaponry”

The concept of ‘not much’ was something Viktor clearly did not understand. Catching up to all of that would be headache inducing, you hoped that menthol would do its job.

“I can’t believe I missed the mines” you grunted “was Sofia there?”

“Yes” Gael said “want me to call her?”

Sofia was a loner in every way, much like you, but when it came to chemistry she spoke endlessly. She told you about their visit briefly, but soon shared important observations the two of you were already theorizing about said ice-fire the island had.

“We asked for some of the gas to be delivered to the lab to confirm it, but I am sure it is some sort of methane form” she said “captain Levi told us about how they use it and it checks all the boxes for methane behavior”

“No wonder it’s such a highly exported product” you said “but do they use it daily? or just the military?”

“Apparently only the military used to harvest it” Viktor complemented “they have reports of accidents and death involving the mines, which makes the civilians weary of it”

Another methane behavior, specially hydromethane. You did not like this, exporting the material was selling your best resource to countries who could turn against you, at the same time you understood they needed to establish economical agreements, and if methane was their only useful product, so be it. You were already thinking about how to stabilize it for general use in the lab, maybe even expand it for civilian use. There was much more work to be done and you were already anticipating the frequent visits to the infirmary.

“I’ll have to send a strict note to your captain” nurse Bront was almost fuming “It could have been a head injury”

You indeed returned to the infirmary a week later. This time, your blood pressure and eyesight failed, causing you to fall in the shower and almost split your head open, Sofia was the one to notice the strange amount of time you were in the bathroom. To be fair, the nurse had every right to be upset, a head injury was a nightmare for the injured and the medical staff. You had seen many people suffer with internal bleeding for weeks before death finally reached them.

“You can’t seem to catch a break”

And of course that Armin Arlert was there. Luck hated you just as much as you hated her.

“Look who’s talking” you mumbled.

You heard a chuckle and opened your tired eyes, seeing him laying two beds away, on your right. Despite your blurry vision, you could see that he was even more bandaged up, his shirtless torso covered with gauze, some blood staining them. You wondered if he was still recovering from the same injury.

“You look awful” you said “what was your injury anyway?"

Nurse Bront shielded him from your vision, making you swallow a bitter tablet with no water. She measured your blood pressure once again, writing it down.

“Long story” he said.

The nurse left your bedside, heading to Armin’s and closing the private curtain. She did not do the same with me, you bitterly thought. Maybe being the commander’s assistant had its perks, such as infirmary privacy.

“I’ll be here a while anyway” you mumbled again, more to yourself.

“You’re all healed, no scarring whatsoever” you heard the nurse say to him “you may leave”

“Can I stay a little? Hange has been draining me to death” he sighed.

You imagined the answer was positive since the nurse left to tend to other patients but Armin did not. A few moments later his curtain was pulled aside, revealing a fully clothed boy.

“Do you always ask people why they are injured? Quite nosy” he asked.

He sat on the chair nearby, munching on something that resembled some sort of grain bar.

“Do you always send a tray of stolen food to random ill people?” you shot back.

“Not really" he shrugged, face slowly becoming red “and I didn’t steal the food…not this time”

The commander’s assistant was a thief.

“Consider it a thanks from commander Hange” he said “they are very keen on making your group feel welcomed”

“But why?” you asked.

He shrugged again, which made you furious for some reason. Could he give you a straight answer for once?

“There are many answers to that, but none of them are ill intentioned” he said.

Of course you would never believe this. He was a stranger, a very strikingly beautiful one, but a stranger nonetheless.

“So, what happened? Did our food make you sick?” he said “I promise we did not poison it”

“No” you replied “the food was nice. I'm just wrong on the inside"

The thing you hated the most was the sight of pity, it was something that defined whether you could stand people or not. Armin did not look at you with pity, instead he nodded and smiled bitterly.

"Same here" he said.

That moment, you wondered if there was more to Armin than just an injured soldier. It almost seemed like he spoke from within, as if your situation was just like his. You remembered what Hange said about soldiers not being able to retire even when they were injured. Behind his blue eyes, you recognized the terrifying feeling you held in your own mind, the feeling that your entire body composition was a mistake, that your existence was an unstable solution ready to simply burst.

Armin’s last words echoed through your mind for days, your conversation cut short when a soldier requested his presence in the commander’s quarters. You were forced to recover in bed, mourning the setback you would have on your work, and the fear of jeopardizing the mission was becoming stronger. The days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into one more month. Throughout all of that time, you occasionally received small trays of fruits and soups, even some local herbal medicines for general nutrition, but none of those ‘gifts’, if you could call it that, had a note. You wondered if Armin was doing that illegally, it would justify the anonymity, or maybe it was the commander.

“Are you alright?” Sofia asked “you seem distracted”

You were finally returning to the lab, now finally assembled thanks to your team, Sofia was informing about the progress done so far.

“Sorry, Sofia” you said “It’s just a lot of information, I'm still processing”

She nodded, continuing to tell you about all the progress and future plans. You tried your best to pay attention, pushing the pretty blonde boy with dull eyes out of your mind and miserably failing.

#armin aot #armin arlert #armin fanfic #armin x reader #armin x you #aot x reader #aot x you

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ajokeformur-ray · 1 year ago

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hiii erika <3 i’m a long term follower who literally adores u (and arthur) like i’ve had ur notifs on forever basically 🥹❤️ and i’ve actually never ever felt confused by anything you’ve posted before so i wanna get your response to something!! i know its not your responsibility to coddle me but i’m really interested to know more about why you’re anti vegan cus i’ve never really heard of that before!! veganism has been something so positive for me, and now i’m (by no fault of yours) feeling insecure like it might be bad in some way or if i’m missing something cus u tagged that it’s dangerous or kills people and i was like 😳‼️‼️⁉️

for context i have also been bothered by many products being branded as plant based because it feels so unnecessary, overpriced, and makes people feel like.. almost holier-than-thou for buying it. i absolutely under no circumstances think i’m better than someone who consumes animal products (like, at all!!!) and really cannot stand people who think they are… it pisses me off so bad. i was wondering if that is the kind of mindset that makes you anti vegan? or if there is some other reason you are that maybe vegans should know about? sorry for the rant on my anon soap box & feel free not to respond love ya !

Hiiii nonnie!!!💖

I want to say again that I didn't expect anyone to see that post; it was a throwaway thought with throwaway comments and I wasn't necessarily prepared for a discussion on what I wrote, so please forgive me if I word anything badly!!!💖 I'm honoured that you've had me on notifs, omg????🥺🥺🥺🥺that's so sweet of you🥺🫂🫂🫂I'd love to talk with you about Arthur if you ever want to!!!🫂💖

I also wanna apologise for making you feel insecure about veganism, I really didn't mean to do that 😭as I said, it was a throwaway post and throwaway tags and I didn't mean to upset anyone by it 😭 if veganism is positive for you, then that's WONDERFUL and I'm happy you found a lifestyle/diet you enjoy and connect with!!!💖

I'm antivegan for multiple reasons. First is, as you mention, some people take it WAY too far and make it a point of "I'm better than you because I can afford to follow X lifestyle" and that pisses me off as much as it pisses you off!!! Second, is like I said in my previous veganism ask, vegan products make my food as a person with coeliacs disease even more expensive because not only do I have to buy an expensive pepperoni pizza which isn't actually pepperoni and isn't actually cheese, but I then have to buy animal product cheese and meat to go on the pizza because I AM gluten free but I'm NOT vegan so I have no choice but to buy more food and therefore spend more money just to have an animal product pizza which is also gluten free. That's where a lot of my antiveganism stems from, because it's EVERYWHERE and I have no choice but to passively support it because I want to eat🙃Veganism is a choice for most people. Being gluten free for medical reasons is not. It's very frustrating and expensive already, even before having to compensate for the lack of animal products in a great deal of the food I'm forced to eat for allergy reasons.

Also, I don't agree with some of the veganism products such as, like I already said, freeze dried coffee granules being advertised as plant based (????) or pleather!!! Plastic leather is more harmful to the environment than actual leather from a cow, which is biodegradable and a natural byproduct AND lasts longer than plastic leather. And also, I don't like the way bees are treated; "honey is bad for us, bees are made into slaves" is just... it's wrong. Us eating honey is GOOD FOR BEES and actually, if bees weren't happy with their beekeepers, they would literally just leave the hive. They have a symbiotic relationship with us which serves both sides and I don't like how there's this anti-honey rhetoric just because honey is a natural byproduct AND DOES NOT HURT BEES. It HELPS them. But this falls into the "some vegans take it too far" thing.

To summarise, while veganism practices may be good for the environment, it's also more harmful in other ways. But that's true of anything, not just veganism and I'm aware I do have a bias and some gaps in my education on veganism. I'm working on it.💖

So those are some of the reasons. But my biggest antiveganism reason is how genuinely dangerous it is - it can and HAS actually killed people from malnutrition and these videos of "before and after veganism" are all over YouTube. I will say, though, those tend to be absolute WORST CASE and are not true for everyone. Media sensationalises both sides of a story. But some people do absolutely take it too far and those are the people who tend to unfortunately die as a direct result of veganism.

So those are some of my reasons for being antivegan. I do have some gaps in my education on the topic as I said and it's incredibly nuanced, a discussion I wasn't necessarily prepared for after posting a very casual "throw my thoughts to the void" post and I'm so sorry for any offence or upset I've caused. I didn't mean to but that doesn't diminish the actual harm🫂if veganism is something you love and enjoy, then I say go for it!!!! Do what you love, do what makes you feel good and is best for you, and you can't go wrong!! It's just not right for me.💖

I hope this answers some of your questions, nonnie🫂 I love you too and I hope you're okay!!!💖

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tartagilicious · 3 years ago

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nothing is more romantic than stitching ur bfs stomach closed am i right <3

cw: slightly graphic descriptions of a wound to the stomach, the stitching of a wound (needles)

"tartaglia," you muse quietly, taking his bruised chin into your hand with feather-like touches. it had been weeks since he first decided to crash into your life, half beaten to death and yet somehow still absurdly lucky enough to find you. "can i be frank with you?"

you'd never been fortunate enough to receive a vision. but, much like the rest of your peers, you had once relentlessly begged to the gods of celestia for a chance of growing into something new -- a vision-holder whose mere appearance demanded respect.

while those efforts may have proved bountiful for others, it didn't quite work out for you. but your lack of assistance is precisely why you take such pride in your ability as a healer. because unlike many, you don't need the blessing of an archon in order to have faith in your capabilities

one thing you're still unsure of, though, is how you got to the point of using your hard-earned skills to help only him.

you had met childe first not because he'd taken it upon himself to seek you out, but because you'd found him -- unconscious in an alleyway, of all places. and despite your better judgement, you couldn't bear to leave someone that was clinging to life so desperately behind.

you have no idea how he ended up there, as he'd never taken it upon himself to elaborate. though, you didn't particularly care enough to risk getting involved with political affairs, so you didn't ask.

perhaps it was just your bad luck striking once again.

"please do." childe says, obviously unamused as he attempts to look away. "i'm dying to know. though, i might be dying in some other way if you don't tell me quick enough."

you fix him a glare and let out a huff of air.

"if you were going to die, you'd be long gone already." you respond, digging your gloved thumb slightly into a scab on his cheek until he winces. "my point is, you're a stupid man, tartaglia.”

childe goes silent.

"have you ever thought about where you'd be without me?" you ask, turning your head as you reach wantonly into the medical kit by your side. you tend to use a more traditional form of plant-based medicine, herbs and adeptal resonance the main sources for your treatments -- both equally as hard to make sense of as they are to obtain.

and yet, you use them on a man who barely even seems grateful that you're the pillar of his god-forsaken life.

when he doesn't answer the question, you continue for him.

"six feet under, certainly." you nod, not giving him the entertainment of eye contact as you rifle through pouches of medicine. "if you're lucky, that is."

you still aren't looking at childe, but you can hear the way his eyes narrow in his voice.

"if i'm lucky?"

finally finding what you're looking for, you sit back up and give him a half-hearted look.

"you'd be lucky to be in a grave rather than on the side of a road somewhere," you snort. "or, maybe in some foreign country's dungeon, hacked up into tiny pieces?"

"ha-ha." he deadpans, shaking his head with a resounding sigh. "i get the message, ___. i'm grateful for you, really."

deciding to accept his answer for the time being, you start to treat the wounds that litter his face with an antibiotic. it's likely he'd encountered a wild animal of some sort, judging by the assortment of bruises and slashes that litter his face and neck.

"...but, have you ever actually thought about it?" he asks quietly. "where i'll die?"

you spare him a look. childe's gaze is already on yours, though for a reason you can't quite pinpoint, it seems to search much farther beyond just you.

"no." you answer truthfully, frowning. silently, you motion for him to shrug his jacket below his shoulders, only opening another layer of injures to your trained eye. attempting to ignore the staggering heartbeat in your chest, you take in a breath.

"it could be anywhere." you answer his question concisely, quietly. it's the only ounce of truth that you'll allow him, even as he lets a small laugh escape. "it's impossible to predict."

"...but, as long as it's not on my couch, i think i'll be a little okay with it." you shoot a smile up to him.

"and you?" he continues. "have you ever thought about how you'll go?"

you resist a laugh. "tartaglia, not all of us risk our lives on a daily basis."

"but, ___, you're here with me. i'd say that's risking your life enough." childe says, his words dripping the honey you despise.

you go to apply a balm onto one of the cuts that span his cheek, the shadow of a smile crossing your face. "and this is the only instance i'll allow it."

expecting a returning quip, you're surprised when a hiss escapes his mouth instead, rough hand grabbing your wrist in tandem. you spare him a look. his expression is contorted in an odd way, much more dramatic than necessary for the wound you're treating at hand.

you've teased the man about being sensitive in many instances, but the insult dies in your throat just as fast as it had been conjured.

"tartaglia," you sit back, dropping the forgotten balm onto the couch he occupies. a guilty look passes over his face as your brows furrow. "what is it? what's wrong?"

the claw mark that stretches across childe's cheek leeches blood into his smile as he shakes his head.

“i’m sorry. it wasn't an animal." he shudders out a laugh, and attentively, your eyes trail down to his torso. you hadn't noticed the expanse of red running across the plain grey of his jacket, but in the limelight, it becomes incredibly stark.

"i'm sorry. i really am.”

you sit forward and gasp his name as you shake his hand from your wrist. embarrassment be damned, you untuck his shirt from his pants, horror striking through you as your eyes land on the gash that covers his stomach.

it's thin enough that you don't think you'll need to deal with any organs falling out of place, but considering the amount of blood that he continues to lose –

"all you ever do is prove me right," you whisper, hurriedly but gently leading him to lie back. "you're a stupid, stupid man."

childe talks incoherently for a moment, explaining things that you don't quite have the heart to listen to. you rifle through your bag for the supplies you desire, and can barely fight back the fear that nearly seizes your breath.

but, you can't panic now, not when he actually needs you.

"seriously, why didn't you say anything?" you scold him in a whisper, uncapping a bottle of numbing substance. for now, the only option you have is to forcefully close his wound and hope the adepti take pity on your desperation.

pulling on a pair of gloves, you repeat, "why didn't you say anything, tartaglia?"

gingerly applying the cream that will numb the area around his gash, he lets out a bubbling laugh. you place a warning hand on his chest when blood begins to escape him at an accelerated rate.

"because. i thought about it." he winces. "i thought about where i'll die."

your lips thin as his forlorn expression comes back to you.

"and you're right. in most cases, i'd probably end up on the side of the road or in a dungeon somewhere."

"but when it happened," childe stops, gasping at the faint pinch of the needle that pierces his skin. you shake his reaction off, clearing your throat with an unsteady breath.

"when– when what happened?" you prompt. you still hadn't gotten a backstory about his condition yet, though knowing childe, you doubt you ever will.

"when this happened," he says, referring the wounds that litter his body. "...i could only think about how if i fail to best someone one day, the only place i want to lose is by your side.”

your heart constricts painfully.

"i don't care about death." he admits, voice growing quieter as your hands grow shakier. you'd gotten through at least half of the expanse of his gash, the thread nestled comfortably between the layers of skin that had been broken through. but, you still have more to go.

"but, when i felt it coming on, i fought harder." childe breathes. "to pick myself up. because i needed to live long enough to get back to you, somewhere i knew i'd be safe and get the best shot at another chance."

safe.

you'd hardly consider your small abode safe for a harbinger, especially when you yourself had been a threat to him many times. though, in your defence, childe really has a knack for terrifying entrances. it didn't help that he was bloodied most of the time, however, you've always had a sneaking suspicion that he did that bit on purpose.

but, when had it become that way? when had childe decided you were his safe-haven, and when had you welcomed it?

"you made the right choice." you assure him. and, even though you anticipate the words to feel like lies coming through your teeth, it comes out fairly natural when you say, "you are safe here."

you speak quickly, trying to push past the tears that finally prick past your vision as you say, "but if you think i'd let someone die at my hands, you're sorely mistaken."

he laughs, the sound coming out broken and wrong.

"if i survive, let me tell you something.”

your face contorts slightly. "fine. but the only way you're dying here is if i kill you myself, so be quiet."

and for whatever reason, childe listens. maybe it's the fact that his life is on the line, or even just the knowledge that such a normally unruffled person has been reduced to tears at the sight of him. but, for any chance of living to see your face once more, he listens.

"did i do something incorrectly?" you question the older man beside you tentatively. you'd learned the archaic style of medicine in the first place from a man named zhongli, a local funeral consultant with an odd array of knowledge. but it fit your needs, and with someone to talk to, he seemed to find no issue in divulging such topics to you.

zhongli studies childe's napping form beneath you. it had been a couple days since childe had passed out, and though he seemed stable enough, you weren't going to take such an easy answer.

after carefully kneeling to lift the man's shirt and inspect the stitch, he gives an amicable nod.

"nothing seems terribly off." zhongli answers, turning his head back to you. "it's slightly messy, but your state of duress could've hindered you much more. you did a wonderful job reacting the way you did."

you thank him quietly, crossing your arms as a lump passes through your throat.

"...then, why isn't he, you know--" you gesture vaguely in childe’s direction. "waking up?"

a thoughtful smile passes over his features.

"a human's body needs adequate time to heal." zhongli assures you, standing up in a singular graceful motion. "regardless of how polished your skills may be, you are still shackled by time so long as you are visionless."

swallowing your words of protest, you nod. you'd been called all sorts of things for being okay with normality, with the averageness that comes with everyone who didn't receive a blessing from the archons. of course, you know zhongli would likely value your mindset — but, your biggest critic has always been yourself.

your skills have always been enough to save lives, so what more could you possibly want? yet, when looking down at the injured man in front of you, you regret the decision for the first time in a long while.

if you had a vision, he would be awake already.

it's simply an unnecessary punishment to think such a thing, you know. but it's a persistent thought nonetheless. it pushes to the forefront of your mind for days, and with the very subject of it lying comatose on your couch, it's hard to rationalise anything but the knowledge that you might've been able to do more if you were a little less stubborn.

even if the decision to come to you in what he thought were his last moments had been entirely his own, you can’t deny that you would have told him to do so anyway. despite your insults, despite all of your bickering and half-hearted glares, you had amended to be there for him a long time ago.

but, the fact that he had accepted it to such an extent gnaws incessantly at your heart.

truly, it lingers in you -- in your veins, in the slight shake of your hands, in the faint heat in your chest. you feel it especially when you’re stepping back into the entryway of your apartment days later. you'd like to think it's some kind of adverse condition, but really, you know it's thanks to what lies beyond.

you’d been out only briefly to stop near wanmin restaurant, where you knew fresh fruit was being sold. zhongli has jabbered on time and time again about the raw health benefits of drinking the right tea when in poor health, and though you’d never found the knowledge particularly useful, it provides your mind with a bit of solace now.

because at least you can be prepared for whenever childe’s decided that he’s had enough of making a worrywart out of you.

you shoulder the bag of light produce with a sigh and kick off your shoes. it’s just as quiet as it was when you left, though you can’t help but feel as though there’s something inside the silence that has changed. your heart jumps into your throat without warning.

it had taken a lot of convincing to be comfortable going out for longer periods; for days, you had been too nervous to let childe out of your sight, if even for a few minutes. after all, a few minutes could be all that it takes. and suddenly, the worry that you’ve misjudged your capabilities a second time suddenly strikes you.

stepping up into the living room, your gaze first notes the empty couch. though you’re long past feeling ashamed at the way your breath lurches in your throat at childe’s circumstances, you still curse the jarring feeling as you make your way to the kitchen.

for a moment, you briefly consider whether or not you’ve lived without emotions thus far – because the way your heart ceases to beat the moment your eyes land on childe, standing with his back to you, is nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before.

his head is dipped, and his hands work slowly at something on his stomach. for a moment, you’re reminded of just who you’ve been twisting your hair for.

“...tartaglia, if you take those stitches out, i’ll put you back in a coma.” you say, presence finally seeming to register with him. he turns around quickly. childe’s hands drop, and you halfheartedly realise that he hadn’t been digging at the thread like you’d assumed, but rather was attempting to clean it.

“___.” childe sighs quietly with something akin to relief. all you can do is stare at him with a slight frown as he rubs a hand over his face. “you’re finally back.”

as you drop the canvas bag to the floor, you almost suspect he had been waiting for you with the way he takes you into his arms so easily. childe is in no way shy about the way he pulls you into him, having the nerve to act as if he was the one who’d been forced to see you in such a horrible state.

but despite your combined displeasure and state of injury, childe still somehow finds a convenient way to mould himself into you regardless. it nearly forces a laugh through your tears as he presses his face down into your hair.

he hums against your skull, the sound vibrating through you. “were you worried about me?”

sniffling, you wrap your arms tighter around him and lie, “...not at all. i’m like this because you’re testing my patience again.”

your response drags a laugh out of the man in front of you. lazily, he places a chaste kiss on the top of your head, but you’re too tired to fight with him any longer.

“…i’m really sorry.” your arms tighten around him as you apologise quietly. “i was messy, you probably would’ve woken up days earlier had you gone to someone else.”

childe sighs. “you can’t even recall a dying man’s wishes?”

“well, no, i mean–” his wording makes you wince. “i remember.”

he leans back to look you in your eyes, much to your dismay. you try to avoid his gaze in vain.

“then you must remember.” childe nudges your body with his, and halfheartedly, you sigh. he wants you to say it.

mumbling the words, you curse childe internally for keeping you so caged in, even though you refuse to break away.

“yeah, yeah. i’m the safest option you have when it comes to preserving your life.”

“and?” he prompts.

your eyes narrow in thought, though you’re only able to remember snippets of childe’s words thanks to his proximity. your thoughts are a mess of warm and garbled connections, not in any condition to recall what he asks for.

so, quietly, he fills in the blank for you.

“the only place i want to lose is by your side.”

your breath hitches. as a healer, it’s likely that you know his stubbornness better than anyone else — after all, evidence of childe’s battles with his own sense of superiority lie in places others will never see. they remain in the scars that litter the skin beneath his gloves, in the memories of gashes along his torso, even the distant reminders of his helplessness are fresh in your mind.

“you? okay with losing?” you choke out a jab at him, lowering your head to clear your throat. “did you take any medication without consulting me first?”

“you’re too funny.” childe deadpans, shaking off your doubt almost too easily. “do you remember what else i said?”

you sigh, meeting his gaze once again. “tartaglia, how much are you going to have me remem-“

“i said that if i survived i would have something to tell you.” he interrupts you without a care, but beyond words yourself, you let him.

the first thing you notice in your silence is how his hand lowers into yours, gripping tight enough to relay his suddenly nervous nature. quickly, you take a peek up at him and decide it’s the slight hitch of his breath that confirms your suspicions. the effect of childe’s injuries are still prominent, after all, and perhaps that’s the only reason he has difficulty hiding his thoughts.

but you don’t dislike it. because when he finally releases a silent breath, he puts them into your capable hands.

the press of childe’s lips on yours is almost liberating in and of itself, quietly wrapping up months of unresolved feelings with one sincere action.

for a moment, you think it’s your point of view that’s tilted when he quickly pulls away – how far could you have fallen to want more from such a man?

the man whose stomach you stitched closed and fretted over for days, you remind yourself bitterly.

but the hand that shakes in yours is almost as honest as the way your heart stutters.

“...i wanted to tell you that i love you. properly.” childe says it a hair’s breadth away from your lips, sucking in a tiny breath and simultaneously stealing the air from your lungs. “and that i’m thankful. for everything you’ve done.”

you can barely catch your own breath as you manage to whisper. “if you’re lying to me, i swear to you, i’ll–”

childe’s kiss is as gentle as the first, yet ten times more unyielding than the last. it swallows your words and halfhearted attempt at a laugh easily. no longer are you apart, and no longer can you say that there’s a chance you may never get to be honest with him – because now, with his hands in your hair and your arms around his waist, you are as honest as you will ever be.

#interwoven fates #genshin impact #childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin childe #gi childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #ajax #gi

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

Text

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

#Jangosoka #time travel #Jango Fett #Ahsoka Tano #slavery tw #drugs tw #Phoenix Posts #I wrote this on a whim a few days ago but didn't get it edited until today #anyway have a nonsense

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thewnchstrs · 2 years ago

Text

Malleus Maleficarum

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie travel to Sturbridge, Massachusetts and discover a coven of witches that has killed two people.

Disclaimers: self-harm, suicide, angst, blood, mentions of death

Word Count: 7.4K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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Sturbridge, Massachusetts

"She was so scared. I couldn't help; I couldn't do anything to stop it,” Mr. Dutton whispered in regret, staring off into space between Sam and Dean who were questioning him. His eyes flicked back up to them. “And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it."

I shined my flashlight around every inch of the master bathroom that Janet Dutton died in, only half listening to their conversation as I searched for anything out of the ordinary that could give us a reason to believe this was our kind of job. "Well, that's why they put the call in to us Mr. Dutton."

"But the CDC, that's disease control, right? What do you think; it's some kind of virus?"

"We're not ruling out anything yet,” Dean said. I began searching through their medicine cabinet, pushing aside prescription bottles and bandaid boxes, but nothing was in there, either. “Mr. Dutton did Janet have any enemies?"

There was a beat of silence behind the bathroom door as Mr. Dutton processed the question. "I'm sorry?"

"Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?" Sam asked this time. I rifled through the tall pantry, shuffling through the neatly folded towels, baskets of small perfume bottles, extra toothbrushes, hand soap. Absolutely nothing of interest.

"Wait, what are you saying? That somebody...poisoned her?"

"I'm just saying we have to cover every base here."

"Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?”

I nearly gave up on the search before I spotted the double cabinets beneath the sink. I squatted down, pulling them open where sure enough, a hex bag was stuffed between the pipes. I sighed, pulling it free and placing it into my pocket.

“Would anyone want to?" Sam was asking as I returned to the room. Mr. Dutton was standing now, looking horrified.

"What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've—" He paused, looking off into space again in thought.

Dean raised his eyebrows at us before waving a hand in front of his face. "Mr. Dutton?"

Whatever trance Mr. Dutton was in, he seemed to snap out of it quickly. He blinked twice, looking back at us. "Uh, everyone loved Janet."

Yeah, totally not weird and suspicious at all. Sam nodded once. "Okay. Thank you very much; I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam, Dean and I stepped out onto the wet porch of Mr. Dutton’s house. "That dude seem a little evasive to you?" Dean asked.

"I don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out,” I said, tossing it to Sam who caught it before it could drop to the ground. "Hex bag."

"Awww gross,” Dean groaned as Sam opened it up in his palm.

"Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned."

Dean shivered at the thought as we kept walking. Sam looked over to me. "So we're thinking witch?"

"Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either. This is Old World black magic, I mean, warts and all,” I said as we slid into the car, the rain coming down harder now.

There was a beat of silence in the car before Dean turned in his seat toward us. "I hate witches." Sam and I chuckled at the rant we knew Dean was about to go on, the same one he always went on when we dealt with witches. "They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary."

"Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton."

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag,” Dean said, glancing up at the home. “So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods."

I shook my head, "No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman—that's the problem, they're human, they're like everyone else."

"Great,” Dean exasperated. “How do we find 'em?"

I thought about it, the brutal way in which Janet died: choking on her own blood after all of her teeth fell out, seemingly out of nowhere. "This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive—"

"We find the murderer,” Sam finished. Dean nodded once before peeling away from the curb.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I sighed, tapping my fingertips against the door with my chin in my hand, people watching the patrons walk in and out of the pub just across from our stakeout spot. “I’m telling you guys, give me five minutes in that bar to hustle some pool money-”

“El, we’re working,” Sam reprimanded. I looked over Dean’s shoulder toward Mr. Dutton’s car that we’ve been tailing for the past four hours. He was parked in an empty lot after we’d just followed him through a drive thru.

“Yeah, and it’s thrilling,” I said sarcastically as I let out a puff of air, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t think anything’s going on here, you guys.”

“Wait,” Sam shushed me and just seconds later, Mr. Dutton’s car flew open as he fell to the ground. Dean immediately put the car into drive, barreling across the two lane road and skidded to a stop just inches from Mr. Dutton who was kneeling on the ground, gasping for air.

"Check the car!" Dean shouted to Sam and I. Sam ran toward the driver’s seat as I pulled open the back, reaching shoulder-deep under the seats, my hands searching blindly.

"Hurry up!" Dean called from behind us where he was kneeled beside Mr. Dutton who was trying to cough but couldn't, his wheezes for air becoming more and more desperate.

"Got it!" Sam suddenly shouted, holding the hex bag up. He grabbed his lighter, catching the hex bag ablaze before dropping it to the road.

"Come on.” Dean lifted Mr. Dutton off the ground as he grasped his chest, finally able to breathe again. "You okay?"

Mr. Dutton looked at us with wild eyes. "What the hell is happening to me?!"

"Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you,” Sam said.

"That's impossible! There's no way—"

"If we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now. Now who wants you dead?" Dean demanded.

Mr. Dutton looked at us as if we were crazy but wracked his brain for an answer, "I-uh..."

"Come on think."

"There's a woman—uh—"

"A woman, okay?"

"An affair—a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago."

I raised my eyebrows at this. An affair would make sense, why this woman would want Janet dead. "What's her name?"

Mr. Dutton looked at me, confused, "Wha–what could she have to do with—?"

"Paul! What is her name?"

Mr. Dutton paused, watching us. “Amanda...Amanda Burns.”

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Paul Dutton cracked pretty fast when it came to giving us Amanda’s address. I quietly picked the lock of the front door, leading the way into the dimly lit house. I entered the living room first, keeping my gun held high as I rounded the corner where a brunette woman in a black dress laid face down over a glass coffee table. I tilted my head at the blood pooled beneath her. "That's a curveball."

"Yeah."

Dean approached her, using his gun to rotate her wrists to the side as he confirmed what I’d suspected: "Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn't foolin' around."

Sam held a hand over his nose and mouth as he lowered himself to the floor beside the table. I followed his line of sight to a knocked over spell book and a plate of rotting food, maggots crawling in and out of it. There was a board with a sigil painted across the front, a knife, and a denim shirt beneath it all that I assumed was Paul Dutton’s. "Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here."

"Oh god!” Dean shouted suddenly. I drew my gun towards Dean who’s eyes were wide, staring at the rabbit suspended by his feet from the ceiling behind him. I sighed, dropping my gun. “Fuckin' witches! Seriously man, come on!"

"Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from,” Sam said. The rabbit was long since dead, its once-white fur now matted with dark blood.

"Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again,” Dean said, looking back at the rabbit, his face falling. “And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! Poor little guy."

"You know what I don't get?” Sam said, making Dean and I look to him. “If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?"

I shrugged, "Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lover's hat-trick...I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?"

Sam kneeled down to the floor, inspecting beneath the coffee table. "No, but then...there's this.” Sam stood, throwing me a small object, wrapped in brown leather.

"Another hex bag? Come on!" Dean groaned, shaking his head. "Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch-on-witch violence?"

"I guess,” I said, tossing the hex bag onto the coffee table.

Dean pulled out his phone, dialing 911. "Hi, I'd like to report a dead body...309 Mayfair Circle...My name? Yeah, sure my name is—” Dean cut himself off, snapping his phone shut. “Why are witches ganking each other?"

Sam sighed, "I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You must have a green thumb,” Sam said as we approached Elizabeth’s house where she was out in her garden, digging in the dirt. This was our first suspect, someone Amanda had been friends with for years.

“Excuse me?” She said, looking up at us.

“Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive,” Sam said before stopping. “I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself first. I'm Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Detective Thornton.” He motioned to each of us as we flashed her our fake badges.

“Hi-ya,” Dean smirked.

“We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors, stuff like that,” I said.

Amanda stood, watching us in what I believed to be feigned confusion, “But didn't she— I mean...she...killed herself...right?”

“Maybe, maybe,” Sam said, vaguely. “We heard you were friends with the deceased right?”

Elizabeth shrugged, obviously anxious at the questioning. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you have any idea about her practices?”

She furrowed her eyebrows at my question. “I'm sorry, what kind of practices?”

“Well see, her house was littered with Satanic paraphernalia.”

“A regular Black Sabbath,” Dean added.

“No, the— but she was an Episcopalian.”

“Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong Bible,” Dean chuckled.

“Elizabeth, you alright?” A voice asked from behind us. We turned, two women coming up the driveway. They rounded us as they stood on either side of Elizabeth.

“I'm fine...Renee, these are detectives,” Elizabeth hesitated. “They say Amanda was— she was practicing-”

“I'm sorry detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset,” the blonde woman said, running a soothing hand down Elizabeth’s arm.

I narrowed my eyes at them. Something was definitely fishy about these three. “Of course, Miss…?”

“Mrs. Renee. Van. Allen,” she said, punctuating each part of her name. “Would you like me to spell it for you?”

I raised my eyebrows at her, biting my tongue. “I'll get by, thanks.”

“This Amanda business has been hard for Liz,” Mrs. Renee Van Allen said. She tightened the grip she had on Elizabeth’s arm. “For all of us.”

Elizabeth seemed frightened to even speak for herself as the other brunette woman spoke up this time, “Yeah. I mean, you think you know a person.”

“Well, I guess we all have secrets don't we?” Dean said. I could tell him and Sam both had their suspicious about them, too.

“Well, thanks,” Sam said, maintaining intense eye contact with Elizabeth that she couldn’t return. “We'll be in touch.”

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Dean’s POV

After leaving Ellie at the motel to research more into what we didn’t already know about witches, Sam and I went out to see if we could find anything else on these women. It was nearly pitch black as we made our way back.

“Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick. Did you see that victory garden of hers?” I said as I drove. “Belladonna, wolfsbane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult.”

“Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets; won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with,” Sam said as he read through the local paper and other files we were able to scrounge up. “I don't think she's alone either. I looked into 'Mrs. Renee Van Allen'. She’s won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months.”

“Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh? Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven we met back there, minus one member,” I said, shaking my head. “Amanda was clearly going off the reservation. What do you think, they killed her to keep up appearances?”

“Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?” Sam said.

“Yeah...if they killed the nut-job, should we uh, thank them or what?”

“They're working black magic too, Dean. They need to be stopped,” Sam said, folding up the paper.

I paused, glancing over to him as I suddenly remembered mine and Ellie’s conversation. “'Stopped' like stopped?” Sam shot me a look saying he was serious. It was never like him to think that way. “They're human, Sam.”

“They're murderers,” he corrected.

Pushing aside how out of character it was for Sam, it seemed justified to me. I looked back to the road, satisfied. “Burn witch, burn.”

Then, the car began to rattle and sputter. I looked down, confused, as I took my hands off the wheel. “What the hell?”

The headlights began to flicker. One second, they were off, and we were drowning in darkness and the next second they turned back on, there was a figure, illuminated in the golden light. The car rolled to a stop right in front of a woman, her arms crossed over her chest. I felt for the Colt in my jacket, gripping it by its hilt. We stood from the car, the woman unmoving.

“Ruby?” Sam said in confusion. I raised my eyebrows, looking back at her.

“Sam, listen to me, there's no time,” Ruby urged.

"For what? What are you talking about?"

"You have to get out of town."

"So this is Ruby, huh? Never had the pleasure,” I said, bringing the Colt out and aiming it at her.

"Dean!"

"I was hoping you'd show up again."

Ruby only watched me, unfazed. "Point that thing somewhere else."

"Hahahaha! Right,” I said sarcastically.

She sighed, looking back to Sam, "Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back."

"Why? I don't understand."

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks,” I said, making Ruby roll her eyes as she turned her attention back to me.

"I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores,” she spat. “I'm talking about who they serve."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking to Sam for answers when his face fell. "Demons. They get their power from demons."

"Yeah. And there's one here, now."

I scoffed, "Oh, what, you mean besides you?"

"Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and it’s way more than you can handle."

I looked to Sam who suddenly seemed worried. I widened my eyes. "Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!"

"Put a leash on your brother, Sam, if you wanna keep him."

"Dean, look, just chill out."

"No...no! She's messing with your head, god knows why, that's who they are!" I shouted, waving the gun in her direction. I was not going to let Sam make me feel like the crazy one.

"I'm telling you the truth,” Ruby interfered.

"And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch."

"I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!" She yelled, stepping closer.

"Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother, you black-eyed skank!"

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving him all alone?"

My heart sank, praying Sam hadn’t heard her, but in my peripherals I could see Sam whip his head toward me. I tightened my hand on the gun. "Shut up."

Ruby knew she hit right where it hurt. She leaned forward, only inches from the gun now. "At least let me try and save him, since you won't be here to do it any more."

"I said shut up!"

I brought my finger back on the trigger, but Sam was faster as he bent my arm upwards, shooting a round into the sky. I opened my eyes, looking around, but Ruby was nowhere to be found.

“Damn it!” I shouted, shaking my head, turning away from Sam. I could feel his eyes on me.

“What did she mean, Dean?” He nearly whispered.

I ran a hand down my face before turning to him, acting like I hadn’t heard him when in reality I was buying myself time to think of an excuse. I didn’t want him to find out like this. I didn’t want them to find out at all, not until I was already gone. “What?”

Sam took a step closer. He was angry. “What did she mean...when she said you were checking out- what did she mean!?”

“Sam, c’mon, I have no idea!” I lied through my teeth.

Sam’s face shifted into realization. “What did you do, Dean?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Guilt corroded my insides. Guilt because I’d been lying to them, guilt because I know what I was going to put them through would kill them. I scoffed, shaking my head. “Sam...”

“You took her deal, didn’t you?”

I slowly looked back to him, fear clouding over his face. There was no use in lying to him anymore. I’d done that too much already. “I couldn’t let her go, Sam...” Sam’s shoulders fell in defeat and shock. “You said it yourself...we couldn’t let her go.”

“I didn’t mean take her place, Dean!” He shouted, his breath coming out in smoke against the cold air. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say a thing. “So...what, now we have to lose you? Our plan this whole time was to come up with something so none of us would die! Did you forget that part!?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I shouted back. “It was me, or her and if not one of us it was you, Sam! There was no way out of it so I...” I stopped myself, lowering my voice. “I had to do it. I have to protect you two.”

Sam shook his head, tears brimming his eyes. “Does Ellie know?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat before shaking my head. Sam nodded once, looking away from me. “She can’t know, Sam. She can’t.”

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Well, I am,” I said. His eyes flicked to mine. “You have to promise me. You won’t tell her. Promise me that, Sam. Please.” He clenched his jaw, walking back toward the car before slipping inside. I looked up at the dark sky, wishing Hell would open its flaming mouth and just pull me under now.

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Ellie’s POV

The silence in the motel room was almost serene. I plopped myself onto the motel bed, a cloud of stale stench floating into the air from the ancient comforter. After nearly six hours of research on witches, my hand was cramping and my ass was sore from the motel’s hard wooden chairs. I stretched my legs out, clicking the small TV set on just as the door flew open, Sam and Dean arguing loudly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam said as he came in behind Dean, slamming the door. I rolled my head backwards onto the wall, annoyed, switching the TV back off.

"What?! What the hell was I thinking?" Dean shot back, yanking his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it roughly onto his bed. "She's a demon, Sam. Period. Alright? They want us dead, we want them dead!”

“What happened?” I asked, watching as they moved across the room in a flurry, Sam hot on Dean’s trail.

They ignored me as they continued to go at each other. "Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead."

"Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook."

"No one's stringing me along! Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she's useful."

"No! We kill her before she kills us."

"Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?"

"Whatever works."

I closed my eyes, absentmindedly rubbing at the side of my abdomen, chocking the dull pain up to the two day old takeout I’d eaten out of desperation.

"Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives,” Sam retorted, making Dean roll his eyes as he went to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. “Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and – and moves ahead. It's not so simple, we're not – we're not just hunting anymore...we're at war."

I peeked an eye out, glancing at them in the momentary silence. “Are you guys done-”

"Are you feeling okay?" Dean interrupted, making Sam shake his head as he sat on the end of our bed.

"Why are you always asking me that?"

"Because you're taking advice from a demon, for starters. And by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people. You know, it used to eat you up inside."

"Yeah, and what has that gotten me?"

My eyes bounced between the two of them, rubbing rhythmic circles over my stomach. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened while they were gone.

"Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do, okay? We're supposed to drive in the fuckin' car and fuckin' argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that shit."

The pain in my stomach began to grow more intense. I sat up further on the bed, hoping my position would relieve some of the pressure, to no avail. I pushed my palm against it, wincing.

"Wait, so– so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean who was tossing the contents of his pocket onto the table.

"No, I'm not mad, I'm— I'm— I'm worried, Sam— I'm worried because you're not acting like yourself.”

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not. I don't have a choice."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, stopping his movement. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Dean...things are changing. And the way I see it, if I'm gonna make it, if I'm gonna fight this war after...” Sam paused, him and Dean sharing a strange look. A silent conversation that I couldn’t quite place. “Then I gotta change."

"Change into what?"

"Into you,” Sam said after a beat of silence passed. “I gotta be more like you."

I sat up further on the bed, holding my side as I leaned forward, my face contorting in pain. Dean looked over at me as if he’d just noticed I was there. "What's going on with you?"

"I don't know,” I groaned as the pain quickly grew sharper until I gasped, feeling like I was being stabbed from the inside. “Something's wrong—"

"Ellie?" Sam said quickly, rounding the bed and kneeling in front of me. He gripped my shoulder.

"Son of a bitch—" I groaned, wrapping my arms around my midsection.

"Ellie, hey,” Dean said this time.

When I opened my eyes they were both in front of me, watching me worriedly. I panted, the pain just becoming more and more intense as I thought of the only solution I could come up with: "The coven...it's gotta be the coven."

I reached a hand out toward anyone and anything, grasping for air before finding Sam’s jacket, twisting it in my hand before they quickly pushed off the floor, turning the room upside down for the hex bag that had to be in here somewhere.

Sweat began to bead down my body as the sound of cabinets opening and closing filled the room, chairs being overturned, and our things being dumped from our duffle bags. I coughed, leaning forward as I felt something climbing up my throat. I dropped to the floor between the two beds, gagging as blood spurted from my mouth and down onto the linoleum floors. I quickly got onto my hands and knees, trying to clear my airways before my arms collapsed under me, sending me sprawling to the floor.

I didn’t have enough energy to pull myself up. I watched Sam above me as he threw the blankets off the bed and dug his knife into the mattresses, calling to Dean, “Did you find it!?”

"No,” Dean said as he came beside me, rolling me onto my side. "Sam, what are you doing?"

I opened an eye between fits of coughing up blood to where Sam was counting the bullets in the Colt, not saying a word to either of us. He threw the motel door open and all we could hear was the Impala’s engine roar to life.

"Sam!” Dean called after him, but once we could no longer hear the car he turned back, cursing Sam under his breath. “It’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

Blood continued to poor from my mouth and onto the floor, the pain only becoming more unbearable by the second.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

I made it back to Elizabeth’s house in nearly half the time it should’ve taken me. I kicked down the front door, barging in, gun drawn at the coven standing around a seance table in the middle of the living room. They let out shrieks of surprised as they quickly stood with their hands in the air.

"Let her go." I couldn’t waste a second. I knew Ellie wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

"Let who go? What are you doing?” Renee asked, obviously startled. “You're insane, get out!"

"Look, if you know about me, then you know about this gun. You're killing my sister. Now let her go,” I warned. “Get away from the altar."

"What?"

"Now!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I sat hunched over on all fours as Dean sat beside me, unsure of what to do except pray that Sam was doing something useful. Then, the motel door was kicked inward. Dean and I whipped our heads toward the door where a woman with long blonde hair sauntered in.

“Ruby?” Dean questioned.

"Ahh, you’re Ruby? You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch,” I groaned, blood smeared across my face. Ruby came deeper into the room, making Dean stand in front of me.

“Get back, Ruby.” “You want me to save her sorry ass or not?”

Dean looked back down at me as I spit a wad of blood onto the floor. Suddenly, I was being lifted up by my shirt and thrown onto the bed. I kicked her away from me before she pinning my arms down with her knees and poured black liquid into my mouth. I gasped around it, but I instantly began to feel better. Dean yelled something at her, making her climb off of me. I sat up, the excess liquid spilling down my chest. I looked to Dean, and then her in confusion.

Ruby was panting, glaring at me. “Don’t...call me bitch."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

"Go,” I demanded, the three women filing into a line with their hands still raised in surrender.

"What— we— we weren't hurting anyone,” Elizabeth stammered.

"Please, we don't even know your sister!” Renee tried to convince me, but it wasn’t going to work.

"Stop the spell, or die,” I said firmly. “Five seconds."

"What?” Renee gasped.

I cocked the gun. "Four."

"No, please, please don't kill us!” Elizabeth begged. "We were just getting Renee a lower mortgage rate!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

"Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?" Ruby said to Dean.

"You...saved my life,” I said, confused as I sat on the end of the bed.

"Don't mention it."

"What was that stuff, anyway?” Dean asked.

“God, it was ass,” I shivered and then thought about it. “It tasted like ass."

"It's called witchcraft, short bus.” Ruby turned, leaving the motel through the broken door.

"You're the short bus...” Dean called after her but Ruby didn’t turn back. Dean’s voice immediately grew quieter at his comeback. “Short bus."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

The women weren’t giving me much to work with and I was pretty sure Ellie that if Ellie weren’t dead already, she would be soon. I gripped the gun, trying to clear my head as I analyzed the women, recalling what I knew about them.

"Okay, maybe it's not you,” I said, beginning at the front of the line with Elizabeth. I trailed the gun to Renee next, “—or you.” That left me with one option: Tammi Benton. The one out of the group we hadn’t been able to dig up much on. I cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe it's you."

Tammi’s eyes widened as Elizabeth and Renee looked to her in fear. "I don't even know what he's talking about. What are you even talking about?!"

"I mean, all of you, everyone in your little coven, you've all had runs of good fortune. Newsworthy good fortune. Except for you, Tammi,” I said, the pieces suddenly clicking together. I stepped toward her. “Now tell me, why is that? You didn't want anything for yourself? Or is it because you're already getting what you wanted – like these women's souls."

Elizabeth and Renee’s eyes grew wider at my words. Tammi continued to stumble, "I can't- I-I'm not- I-I-I don't..." Then, she stopped. Her facial expression changed as she let her hands drop to her sides, her eyes turning pitch black. "Nice dick work, Magnum."

I brought the gun up to her, gripping it with both hands. "Let. My sister. Go."

"What's wrong? Couldn't find my hex bag? Sorry, sweetheart, but your sister’s lungs should be on the floor by now."

I ground my teeth as I lightly pulled back against the trigger and released a bullet from the Colt, but before it could reach her, the demon brought her hand up, stopping it in mid air. I watched in shock as it fell to the floor with a clank. The demon smiled. "You're in a lot of trouble, Sam."

With that, she brought her hand up, sending me flying across the room and pinning me to the far wall. I groaned at the impact, watching in horror as Elizabeth and Renee turned to who they thought was their friend.

"Tammi, what's wrong with your eyes?" Elizabeth asked.

"Tammi, what are you doing?" Renee gasped.

"Renee, shut your painted hole,” the demon snapped.

"What?” Renee said in disbelief. “I- I will— you can't— not in my house, Tammi Benton-" The demon snapped Renee’s neck then, making her instantly fall to the floor in a heap. Elizabeth slapped her hands over her mouth, muffling her screams of terror.

"Look. You got me – let the girl go,” I tried to reason.

"Wait your turn, young man,” the demon hissed and turned back to Elizabeth who was shaking uncontrollably. “Shhh...Lizzie. It’s okay.”

"You're not Tammi,” Elizabeth breathed out.

The demon had her hand running through Elizabeth’s curls. "No, but I'm wearing her meat. I had to break the ice with you girls somehow."

Her eyes were brimmed with tears. "You killed Renee."

"Renee, Amanda...” the demon listed, circling the room like a caged tiger. “That's what happens to witches who get voted off the island."

"Who are you?"

The demon chuckled. "Funny story, actually. You remember all those dark demonic forces you prayed to, when you swore your servitude? Just who did you think you were praying to?"

"This- this isn't – it can't b—"

"What did you think it was? Make-believe? Positive thinking? The Secret? No, it was me. You sold yourself to me, you pig." Elizabeth’s hands were clutched close to her chest as tears silently fell down her cheeks. "All I had to do was bring one good book to book club, and you ladies lined up to kiss my ass."

Elizabeth began furiously shaking her head. "No, no, we didn't know—"

"Oh, yes you did. You knew every step of the way, and now your ever living souls are mine,” the demon smiled. "Comments? Questions?” Elizabeth continued to stare at her silently, frozen in fear before the demon turned to me. “Hmm, Sammy Winchester, wow! Right here in our little town. You know, my friends and I, we've been looking for you."

"Why?” I said before scoffing, rolling my eyes. “Oh, right, 'cause I'm supposed to lead some piss-poor demon army."

"No, not at all. You're not our Messiah. We don't believe in you...But, there's a new leader rising in the West – a real leader,” she said, coming closer. I furrowed my eyebrows at her words. “That's the horse to bet on, Sam, the one who's gonna tear this world apart. Thing is, this demon? It doesn't like you very much. It doesn't want the competition." I watched as the demon raised her hand and I slowly began to slide up the wall, the pressure against my chest becoming heavier and heavier. I grimaced, clenching my fists. "Nothing personal, it's a P.R. thing, so, buh-bye."

The demon pressed her hand forward until it felt like my chest was going to collapse in on itself. The wall behind me began to crack, plaster and drywall falling to the floor below me. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the impact when the front door flew open, Dean and Ellie running through, guns blazing. I let out a breath of relief at the sight of them.

Then, demon simply flicked her other hand, sending the two of them flying to two separate walls. From this angle, we could all see each other. They winced at the impact. I looked to Ellie, wondering how the hell she was even alive.

"Three for one. Lovely."

Then, there was another set of footsteps coming into the house. The demon turned to Ruby who followed behind, her hands raised. "Wait. Please. I just...came to talk."

She turned toward Ruby, looking surprised. "You made it out of the gate. Impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?"

"Doors out of Hell only open for so long."

"What do you want, Ruby?"

Ruby stepped closer to her. "I've been lost without you. Take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters here.”

I glanced to Dean and Ellie, feeling guilty. Dean was shaking his head, mouthing: I told you so!

“They're for you...as a gift,” Ruby said, the demon looking between her and us.

"Really?"

"Let me serve you again. I've wanted it – I've wanted you – for so long,” she whispered, making Dean’s eyebrows shoot upward.

"You were one of my best,” the demon whispered back. Ruby smiled sweetly before quickly bringing a knife up and over the demon’s head, but the demon grabbed the blade before it made impact. "But then again, you always were a lying whore."

The demon tossed the blade across the room, making it slide across the floor and stopping in front of the alter. Ruby began throwing punches at the demon’s face, grabbing her shoulders and kneeing her in the stomach. Then, the demon grabbed Ruby’s arms where they were holding her jacket, using them as leverage to slam her forehead into Ruby’s nose. The resounding crunch of cartilage filled the room. Dean, Ellie and I flinched as blood began pouring down Ruby’s face, but she kept fighting, blindly swinging her fists but the demon had the upper hand. She grabbed Ruby, punching her twice over her face before kicking her backwards into the TV, electrical sparks flying upwards.

The demon gave Ruby enough time to roll off of the shattered TV before knocking her to the floor again. Ruby panted, blood coating her face. The demon grabbed her by her jacket, lifted her easily and tossed her across the room into a bookshelf. Ruby went sprawling backwards, the shelf breaking in half as Ruby just laid there, no fight left in her. The demon sauntered toward the fireplace where Elizabeth was backed up against. She grabbed a fire poker, smirking at Elizabeth before turning back to Ruby. "You're really telling me you threw in your chips with the Three Stooges here?"

Ruby struggled to sit up as the demon swung the fire poker, striking her across the face, sending her falling back down. "Come on. Get up." The demon demanded, but Ruby stayed down. There was movement behind the demon then. My eyes flicked to Elizabeth who quietly ran to the alter on the other side of the room, pouring out a bowl of sewing needles. "I said, get up!"

Fed up, the demon threw the poker to the side and kneeled over Ruby, pulling her up by her jacket. "We've been here before, haven't we?" The demon looked over at us. "She didn't tell you? Pretty mortifying, I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago.” Ruby’s head started going limp. I watched the color drain from her face but the demon held it up to look into her eyes. “Ruby here was a witch. Of course, that was when you were human. Didn't want your friends to know that all those centuries back, you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing, I guess. But don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?"

Ruby stared back at her as the demon threw her back onto the debris. The demon stood over her, reciting an exorcism. Ruby clenched her fists as the black smoke began to escape her mouth. Dean, Ellie and I trying desperately to peel ourselves off the walls but it was no use. The demon continued the incantation before she suddenly stopped, bringing her hand to her mouth as she violently began coughing.

I looked to the back of the living room where Elizabeth was sitting behind the alter, her eyes closed as she chanted something quietly that I couldn’t quite make out. We watched as the black smoke returned to Ruby’s body, but the demon continued coughing harder and harder, trying to catch her breath. Each cough made the grip she had on us looser until we each fell to the floor.

I groaned, turning to look back at the demon as she pulled her hand away from her mouth, her palm filled with dark blood and three long sewing needles. Her lips were stained crimson as she looked up, realizing what’d happened to her. She brought up her other hand, clasping it into a fist. Elizabeth’s chanting immediately stopped as she grasped her chest, gasping for air before limply falling forward onto the alter. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, Dean came up from behind the demon, holding her firmly to his chest as he stabbed her over and over again in her side with Ruby’s knife. The demon’s face was contorted into pain as she flickered orange before dropping dead to the floor.

Ellie stood, rubbing the back of her head where she’d collided with the wall, inspecting the damage inside the house. Dean came around, helping me off the ground. We came to a stop in front of the demon who laid with her mouth wide open, her hand still curled into a tight fist. Ruby stood, wiping the blood from her nose. "Go. I'll clean up this mess."

"Come on,” Dean said, laying a hand on mine and Ellie’s shoulders, leading us to the door when I stopped, looking back over my shoulder to Ruby.

Her eyes clicked to black threateningly. "I said, go."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean's POV

I was outside of the motel room, throwing our weapons into the arsenal in the trunk when the fluorescent lights outside began flickering wildly. I paused, a low humming filling the parking lot. I looked from my left to my right, trying to prepare myself for whatever the hell was about to show up. I reached around behind me for the Colt. I checked my surroundings again when I spotted Ruby a few feet away form me, her arms crossed.

I let out a small breath of relief as the lights stopped flickering. I let go of the gun. "So the devil may care after all, is that what I'm supposed to believe?"

"I don't believe in the devil.”

I raised my eyebrows as I shook my head, shutting and locking the arsenal. "Wacky night...So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became uh-"

"Yeah,” she said simply as she turned and started walking away.

"How long ago?"

"Back when the plague was big."

I paused, really thinking about what she was telling me. "So all of 'em – every damn demon – they were all human once?"

Ruby turned back to me, "Every one I've ever met."

"Well, they sure don't act like it."

"Most of them have forgotten what it means, or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to Hell, Dean. That's what Hell is: forgetting what you are."

"Philosophy lesson from a demon. I'll pass, thanks."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine."

I shrugged, "No, I saw 'Hellraiser'. I get the gist."

Ruby ran her tongue over her teeth as she rolled her eyes. "Actually, they got that pretty close. Except for all the custom leather...The answer is yes, by the way."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes, the same thing will happen to you. It might take centuries, but sooner or later Hell will burn away your humanity,” she said. I felt my stomach flip, watching her to try to see if she were serious or not. “Every Hell-bound soul, every one, turns into something else. Turns you into us. So yeah. Yeah, you can count on it."

I could tell she wasn’t bluffing. I swallowed roughly, realizing now just how bad this was going to get. "There's no way of saving me from the pit, is there?"

"No,” she said simply and for once, I didn’t question her. “I was surprised you'd made it this far, saving Ellie and all. That was smart, what you did."

"Then why'd you tell Sam that you could save her?"

"So he would talk to me. You Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past the–"

"The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past."

"Look at you. Trying to be all stoic,” she cooed before clicking her tongue. “My god, it's heartbreaking."

I set my jaw, watching her. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I need your help."

I wasn’t expecting that. "Help with what?"

"With Sam and Ellie. The way you stuck that demon tonight – it was pretty tough. Ellie’s almost there, but Sam...not quite. You need to help me get them ready – for life without you. To fight this war on their own." She turned, walking away from me again.

"Ruby!” I called after her, making her stop. “Why do you want us to win?"

She turned. "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I– I wish I was, but...I'm not. I remember what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"Being human." I held her eyes for only a second longer before dropping them and when I looked back up, she was gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

@spnbaby-67 / @luciferslucille / @anti-social-club / @search-bar / @mellorine-paprika / @thepocketshoelace / @jaremish / @the-salty-asian / @robynannemackenzie-blog / @mersuperwholocked-lowlife / @caswinchester2000 / @damnedimpala / @lauren-novak / @adeanmon / @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce / @defenderrosetyler / @resanoona / @nyotamalfoy / @ykta-m

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur / @artemisandromedaathena-blog / @elite4cekalyma / @dragon-master-kai / @bxrbiewrites

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12 / @breereadsthings / @slytherinrising / @stressedoutkitten / @dragon-master-kai

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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elizabeethan · 3 years ago

Text

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal.

Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense.

Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch.

“She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.

First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit.

Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for.

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag.

He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile.

“We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.”

Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.

“You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays.

He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?”

“Not yet,” the dumbass admits.

The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.”

I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him.

“There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?”

She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting.

“She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes.

“She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.”

“We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke.

“That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard.

He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse.

One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers.

“You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.”

Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets.

“What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep.

She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?”

In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.”

She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea.

“Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?”

She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time.

“I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head.

Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly.

She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

“Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves.

“You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.”

“What the fuck?”

“You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her.

“I did what now?”

“I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?”

He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully.

“Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.”

“So you… you fell in love… with me…?”

“Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

“I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.”

“Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.”

“Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

“Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before.

“Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.”

“Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

#Captain Swan #Captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #the swan and her handler #cs ff #the swan ff #cs crack #crack fic

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cross-my-heartt · 3 years ago

Note

Tell us more about the topshot squad please!! ,✨ How does it have been formed, what they was doing during the clone wars and... And why crosshair looks so good with orange!

Thank you so much for asking!! Boy oh boy I’m excited to talk about my children!

I’ll start with the most important question… Crosshair and orange? Honestly if you ask me that man looks fantastic in any color, he just has that fashion model figure going for him. Though I’m clearly biased here 😉

But to go back to the boys, most of them are actually very close to being shinies! They do have some experience in the war but far less than Crosshair himself and that’s one of the reasons he takes them under his reluctant grumpy wing. I like to think that Crosshair has a very strong protective streak, owing to his position as sniper, and that streak is what awakens the leader in him (besides his healthy ego of course).

And though he’s equally protective of them all, Ghost is the one he meets first and warms up to the quickest. I’m saving their meeting for a fic because it’s significant but what I will say is that they have a lot to bond over, starting with their abandonment issues.

Ghost is paler and smaller than most troopers because of a virus he caught early on during his deployment as a medic. He managed to beat the illness but his brothers never really treated him the same afterwards and he was eventually abandoned when his chip didn’t activate after order 66.

That’s one thing he and Crosshair have in common, though their situations are, ironically, the opposite of each other.

So Crosshair finds himself with this kid who is quiet, considerate, clever (a damn good medic) and occasionally a devil of a wisecracker. And by the time the rest of the squad come into the picture, they’ve been hunting bounties and doing odd jobs together for quite a while.

The other three join the team after Crosshair and Ghost wreak havoc on one of those missions. Reckie, Stiff and Bundler all had malfunctioning chips and were imprisoned at an imperial base along with many other troopers for disobeying or questioning orders. Their cell is accidentally unlocked in the fray and they manage track the other two down, helping them beat back some imperial forces.

None of them actually knew each other before they were arrested so each has their own reason for joining the squad:

Reckie is the youngest and most eager to prove himself – his name is short for ‘reckless’ and he got into a lot of trouble in his short time of service. His jedi general eventually noticed this and gave him a helping hand in finding patience and control. The death of that jedi left Reckie devastated and missing a mentor and he saw that mentor in Crosshair. (Yes, I know Crosshair is the furthest away from a jedi but in all fairness the kid was kind of starstuck … we know how badass Cross looks in combat.)

Next is Stiff who just… goes with the flow kind of. His name is actually a joke on the fact that he’s anything but stiff – he’s laidback and just the epitome of chill. So when he sees that energetic shiny run after some mysterious bounty hunter to join his team, he decides to tag along. The kid might be on to something after all.

And finally there’s Bundler. Now. Bundler is a special case. Long story short, those eerie glowy green eyes are the result of long-term exposure to a plant with toxic properties that ended up giving him enhanced eyesight and, you guessed it, he’s almost as good a shot as Crosshair. And Bundler being Bundler, which is something of an even worse version of Crosshair, decided that he would either beat this guy’s skill or leech some skills off of him.

He’s one to constantly challenge Crosshair’s authority because he likes stepping on people’s toes. Making them uncomfortable. Intimidated. But that doesn’t stop Crosshair from keeping him around because he won’t abandon someone for being tough to deal with, not after what happened to him.

And that’s how the squad slowly came together! Despite some vehement resistance from Crosshair because no way is he attached to this weird little bunch of regs, absolutely not. But we all know he’s a softie deep down.

Thank you so much for the ask!! There’s a lot I still haven’t said but I’ll leave that for the individual bios I’m preparing for the boys. Hope you guys are interested in reading those when they come out!

#tbb crosshair #topshot squad #clone oc #tbb

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bl--ankhaeji · 3 years ago

Text

Bed of Roses

Pairing~ Emperor!Taeyong x CivilianPharmacist!Reader

Genre~ fluff,, angst,, empireau

Warnings~ smut..like three different scenes,,fem!recieving oral,,handjob,,switch?Tae/Reader,,Talks of war,,mentions/slight descriptions of death,,mentions/descriptions of extreme illness,,Taeyong has PTSD and nightmares,,mentions of blood,,Taeyong has insecurites,,mentions of rotting flesh

A.N~ This is my fic for the taeyong gallery collab hosted by @alreadyblondenow I am releasing two days later than planned I am sorry for that. This fic is based off of the painting The Kiss by Gustave Klimt. Also big thanks to my mutual/beta reader, Xiami, @kjmsupremacist and the mutual who made this beautiful banner for me, Mylin, @suh-insane This is my longest fic so far I hope you all enjoy 😊 Oh and before I forget there is a whole like sort of surgery scene in here PSA I am no doctor, I know nothing substantial about medicine or medicinal practices. I got the inspiration for that scene from a drama so...(props if you can guess which one it is)

W. Count~ 12.5k

The screams of thousands ringing in the air is deafening. Buildings are burning to the ground from a ravenous blaze. A vibrant haze of orange and red covers every single object in sight. No matter where he looks there is someone crying; hell, even the sky seems to be crying tonight. Taeyong’s legs give out from under him, bringing the once-strong prince to his knees as his head drops, hanging lowly in shame. How had he let it get this far? What happened to his beautiful peaceful empire full of its joyous people?

War. That’s what happened. His father had gotten power hungry and bloodthirsty, a terrifying duo. He remembers sitting in the royal meetings listening to the decisions his father would make, hating every single one but not having the authority let alone the guts to stand up to him. Hurried footsteps bring the prince out of his memories as a peasant girl, barefoot and in a tattered dress, appears in front of him.

“Prince Taeyong!” she cries, tears rushing down her face as if trying to see who will beat the other to the ground first. The prince's head snaps up at her cries, looking intently at her face. Her once-beautiful features are now horribly damaged and scarred from what looks like a massive burn. The girl opens her mouth, words making their way out until they stop suddenly and are replaced with a blood-curdling scream.

It’s then that Taeyong notices the spear cutting through her flesh, beginning to protrude through her midriff before it retrieds back through her body. The girl’s now-limp body falls in a heap in front of the prince, her blood flowing rapidly out of the deep gash. In her place stands an enemy soldier. The soldier raises his sword and the two men quickly commence into a brief battle. Taeyong quickly overtakes the soldier, tearing him down almost effortlessly.

The tired male stands tall, chest heaving, almost completely covered in blood before he rushes back to the girl, cradling her in his arms, even though his subconscious already knows it’s too late. “M-miss, oh my god miss, p-please please wake up,” he stutters frantically, lightly tapping her face. “MEDIC!! HELP SOMEONE!” he screeches so loudly it feels as if it’s ripping his throat.

Countless people have died in front of him this whole time. Countless bodies lay around him–men, women, and children alike. Yet he’s hellbent on trying to yell for a medic that he knows isn’t there to help this one girl. Suddenly, he sees the girl's eyes flutter open. “My prince,” her voice barely whispers, her shaking hands reaching up slowly to softly cradle the prince’s tear streaked face. Suddenly the strength returns to her body, her hands, once gentle, now harshly gripping the side’s of Taeyong's face, nails causing what feels like permanent moon shaped indentures on his face. “YOU!” she spits.

Her eyes, once gentle and kind, tainted with fear, now hold an anger and bloodlust so intense it is almost suffocating. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You and the royal family caused this-this WAR. And for what reason, huh? Thousands of lives lost; all of my friends and family are now dead because of you. I’M EVEN DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!!” Her hands now tightly grip his neck. “If I have to die by your hands then you have to die by mine. You made this bed of thorns, now lay in it. DIE!”

“AHHHHHH!” An ear piercing cry leaves the man's lips as he now sits up in his bed scrambling to the headboard as if trying to get away. His clothes and bedding are drenched in sweat. His personal guard, Doyoung, rushes into the room, thinking there was a possible intruder from the emperor's cries. Even though this was far from the first time the emperor was plagued by night terrors, he could never be too certain.

“Your Highness, Your Highness please. Taeyong! Snap out of it; you’ll wake the entire empire, sir please.” Doyoung pleaded with the now sobbing man. “Your Highness, it’s okay it was just a dream, none of it is real.” The guard's large hand lands on the emperor’s back as he rubs soothing circles in hopes of calming the almost hysterical man.

The dream may not have been real but his pain was, the war was real. His sobs are deafening.

His people, his country. He failed them; he’s still failing them.

The once-cowering man now stands tall with an aura of elegance and power radiating off of him. After Doyoung’s fruitless attempts at trying to talk Taeyong into getting some help for his recurring nightmares, the emperor was due down in Neo City, sometimes referred to as N-City, the capital of the Neo Empire. At least once a month Taeyong comes down from the castle placed in the heart of Neo City and walks around greeting and getting to know the citizens of the city. Taeyong has always been very passionate about knowing the people under him and knowing how they live. He never wants to be an emperor that lets his people suffer while he lives extravagantly in the castle.

He figures that’s the least he can do after failing them once already.

He shrugs on his royal cloak even though he and everyone else knows that it’ll come off in no time once he joins the people. Taking a seat in the carriage across from Doyoung, Taeyong is handed his crown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuck. That’s all that you can think of as you race to make it on time. You’re so fucking late; how could you have let it slip your mind? The emperor always comes down around this time and you’re usually always in your spot on time, but you woke up late this morning after pulling an all-nighter preparing medicinal herbs for the elderly people down your street.

Your rucksack flops lifelessly beside your hip as you finally come to a stop, managing to make it to the spot in the nick of time. You had to deliver the herbs this morning and it almost cost you to miss seeing the emperor. Ever since Taeyong had taken over as emperor and started making his monthly visits, you always made sure you were there to be able to see him. You had a special spot you always occupied. It was the perfect spot where you could see him but not be front and center so that he could see you.

Indiscernible chatter and yelps of delight grow louder and more constant. The second you turn your head, an unmistakable crown floats atop the heads of an ample number of people. At that same moment you hear the emperor's joyous laugh, the beautiful sound bringing an uncontrollable smile to your lips. The crowd of people slowly thins out, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the handsome man, and you can’t help but to be taken aback by his beauty even though this is far from your first time seeing him. The first thing you look at are his eyes. Despite his entire demeanor radiating a bubbly happiness, you can see the truth in his eyes.

Taking in the appearance of the royalty, you notice the dirty cuffs on his white button up that sit rolled up on his forearms. Ahhh he must’ve been helping Mr. Young plant vegetables again. Your mind conjures an image of the older male who has the gall to make even the emperor plant vegetables for him and a small chuckle falls from your lips. Making your gaze up to his head, you take in the royal crown. You always wonder how the crown manages to stay rooted on his head despite sitting on it lopsided 90% of the time. A crooked smile that shines brighter than the sun graces the emperor's features and you suddenly feel your cheeks warm like a furnace.

Too caught up in your trance, you don’t feel the person bump into you until you’re already on the ground. The silence that greets you rings heavy in the air and isn’t broken until you hear a gasp, while at the same time feeling warm, nimble fingers wrap around your arm, gently lifting you from the ground. “Are you okay?” an male voice rumbles, a voice you’re no stranger to, a voice you were just delighted to hear mere seconds ago.

“I uh I-I ah-h y-y-yes-,” you stutter, struggling to form coherent words once you realize that the emperor has helped you up from the ground.

The emperor helped you up.

The emperor has his hand wrapped around your arm.

The emperor saw your fall... Dear God THE EMPEROR SAW YOUR FALL!

“I-I uhh YES-yes, I am fine,” you rush out, keeping your head down, refusing to meet the eyes of Emperor Taeyong, terrified of the judgement that might lie in them at your embarrassing fall. You quickly release yourself of his hold, scurrying away before he or anyone else can get a glimpse of your face. With your heart pounding in your ears and tears pricking your eyes you run back to your house as fast as you can manage, cutting your time to see the emperor extremely short. Hey, at least you have more time to prepare; you’re going to make things a little bit different today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness.” Doyoung’s curt voice takes Taeyong’s attention away from the retreating back of the girl he just helped off of the ground mere seconds ago.

“Wha-–ah yes! Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

The sound of the horses' feet clacking against the stone ground echoes throughout the carriage. “Doyoung,” the emperor starts, looking almost wistfully out of the window. “Do you think that girl from earlier is okay?”

“I would assume so, seeing as how she had no trouble when running away as if she had just robbed a bakery,” he replied with a slight tilt in his voice.

“She did run away quite enthusiastically, didn’t she?” Taeyong can’t help the small grin that overtook his face at the memory of the girl. It was rather funny seeing her scramble away as if she had just committed a crime.

“Your Highness, we have arrived.” The coachman speaks from the outside of the carriage as it slows to a stop.

Despite the limited space, Taeyong stands, shouldering the heavy royal robe. The door to the carriage is opened by one of the royal guards, who proceeds to escort Taeyong to the steps of the palace. A sound of disdain falls from the guards lips and catches Taeyong’s attention. “What seems to be the problem, might I ask?” Halting his steps, Taeyong turns towards the guard and gives him his full attention.

Realizing the emperor heard him, the guard stiffens, stuttering over his words hurriedly, attempting to make sure the emperor didn’t misunderstand. “Ah—no, Your Highness. There is no problem; not with you, at least, it’s just there’s this girl that always comes to the palace every week, and it’s just really annoying to send her away all the time.”

Spotting a girl making her way up the palace steps, the guard and Taeyong watch as the girl encounters her first guard, thrusting the huge bouquet into his face then bowing, appearing to say something completely inaudible from this distance. Standing straight, she looks as if she begs the guard for something, a hopeful look etched onto her face only for it to fall after the guard says something in return. Seemingly giving up, the girl turns to leave the palace, only this time she hangs her head down in sorrow.

Gathering what could be classified as a humongous bouquet, you make your way to the palace, even though you know you’ll probably be sent away again. Having succeeded in finally getting them to at least take the bouquet, you can only hope it reaches the emperor. Usually you just give him a nice bouquet full of roses that grow right in your garden at home with a nice little card attached reminding him to eat and get enough fluids, things like that, but this time after seeing the emperor you know he needs more than just roses. You gathered up and put together a bouquet full of beautiful red roses, gladiolus colored a light pale peach, white poppies, and a bunch of basil sprinkled throughout the bouquet.

Each flower carries a significant meaning with it that you want to give to the emperor and even if none of your other bouquets got to him, you really wish this one will. Sitting down, you prepare to write the note that you would leave this time.

It’s me again, Your Highness. I saw you today when you went down to town, and you looked really tired despite the smile you put on your face for us. I do hope you are getting enough sleep while also keeping yourself fed and hydrated, otherwise if you get sick, who will lead us as well as you do?

As you can see, I gave you a little something different than the usual roses. Considering that you’re a busy person, I’ll assume that you don’t know these flowers or their meanings so allow me to tell you.

The red flowers are obviously the roses I have been giving you for the last year or so. The pink looking flowers are called Gladiolus and they symbolize strength and get their name from gladiators who fight with strength and honor. The white flowers are called White poppies; they symbolize peace and the remembrance of war. They got that meaning because they are usually the flowers that grow atop fallen soldiers' bodies after war. Finally the little green leaves sprinkled throughout the bouquet are called Basil; although usually used in food, they are also thought to bring peace while warding off negative spirits, symbolizing good wishes, wealth, and a happy home.

Now that you know their meaning, I hope you can understand why I gifted these to you. Till next time Your Highness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing the folded piece of paper, Taeyong lets out a breath before looking at the beautiful bouquet in his hands. He was surprised that someone took so much notice and cared so greatly about him and his well-being to do something like this. With a light heart and a small flustered grin, he places the card back in the bouquet, setting the flowers in a vase atop the vanity in his room, somewhere where he is sure he will get to see the flowers everyday.

Back to normal again this week, Your Highness. I do hope that you were able to receive last week's bouquet, but I know there’s a good chance you did not, just like you will not this week. Do not ask why I continue to deliver these bouquets even though I know that you have not gotten a single one. It is too much to explain over a single note. I hope you have eaten well and stayed hydrated throughout this week. I also hope you have been sleeping well. If not, one way I find that helps is lavender oil. You could take it orally or drink some lavender tea before bed. You could even keep lavender in your room to infuse the area with its scent.

That’s it for this week, Your Highness. Till next time

Closing the note from this week, Taeyong places it back inside of the bouquet, setting it down on his vanity. “Doyoung!” When you delivered today’s bouquet, Taeyong had made specific orders to ensure that it got to him this time. “Could you fetch me some lavender?”

So after the first time, every week Taeyong couldn’t help but find himself lying in wait anxiously just to get your bouquet and read the sweet little notes you left in them. He had made sure to keep every single letter. His room was so full of roses that he had to start placing them all over the palace, but not without making sure to get the little note always cuddled inside. Not only that, he even started to smell like roses and he couldn’t be happier. He soon found himself relying on the little notes left in the bouquets’ to get himself through the week. Even if it was the simplest message just telling him to make sure to eat, drink, and sleep properly it still means the world to him.

He would get so excited for the bouquets that he had even started to make his way down to the palace entrance when he knew you were coming. Doyoung would compare it to a dog waiting on their owner to get home. He swore one of these days he was going to stop being a scaredy cat and go out and accept the bouquet himself, but until that day came he would remain behind the palace doors.

The resounding gong of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room, alerting Taeyong of the new hour. It’s not like he didn’t already know, though. “It’s 4 o’clock, I have thirty minutes till my roses come.” Signing the last of the documents, stacking them on top of his desk, Taeyong stands, stretching his lithe body in order to get rid of the stiffness in his joints. Walking around his desk, Taeyong makes his way through the door.

A monotone voice laced with sarcasm breaks the silence, scaring Taeyong. “I guess it’s time for your one-sided weekly date. Or is it one-sided since one brings gifts while the other just watches like a creepy stalker?” Doyoung questions, leaning against the wall next to the entrance whilst raising his eyebrow.

“N-no! I mean, yes, it is close to time for the delivery, but it’s not a date.” A light blush covers Taeyong’s cheeks as the word ‘date’ falls from his lips. “I was just leaving to go around the palace and see how everything is going, checking and making sure things are happening the way they should–y’know, kingly duties.”

Turning to face the obviously flustered king, Doyoung gives him a deadpan expression that screams mmhm sure. “All I got from that was that you admit to being a creepy stalker.” Taeyong’s mouth flies open, unable to give a coherent response. “Oops, look at the time! You should probably start making your rounds,” he says, walking out of the room, the sound of Taeyong’s incoherent ramblings drowning out as he walks away.

Sobering up from his conversation with Doyoung, he makes his rounds around the castle, steadily making his way to the entrance, keeping his eyes on the time. By the time he makes it to the entrance, he can see the girl making her way up the palace stairs, still a little dot in the distance. He can’t help but notice the way his hands begin to feel clammy and his heart rate slowly picking up as your face comes into view.

He remembers the first time he came down and was finally able to see your face clearly. He swears it was as if the world stopped. You looked more beautiful than any bouquet he has received from you. He was so flustered that he couldn’t help but to blush every time he thought of you. He knows because Doyoung wouldn’t shut up about the magenta red that spread along his cheeks at random times that day.

He was so focused on looking at you that he didn’t realize the rushed way in which you gave the guard the bouquet. All he knew was that one second he was staring at your face and the next your back as you lightly jogged away. Slight disappointment settles in his stomach as he realizes you didn’t even attempt to convince the guard to give the bouquet to him this time.

The guard walks over, handing the bouquet to the waiting king, not wanting to be gone from her post too long; she quickly turns around, moving to head back before the voice of the emperor stops her. “Wait!” Taeyong notices the tension in her body at the sound of his voice, “Yes, your highness?” she asks, voice shaking slightly.

“Where is the note?”

Turning back around, she faces the emperor. “What note, sir?”

“The note. The one that’s always in her bouquets.” Taeyong notices his voice came out sharper than he intended when he sees the guard flinch slightly. “I apologize; I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. I just—there’s always a note that comes with her bouquets and-and there’s not one in here.”

“Ah, I don’t believe there was one in there, Your Highness. At least, I didn’t see one when she handed it to me.” Upon seeing the crestfallen look that sits on the emperor's face, the guard instantly offers to check and see if it had fallen off somewhere.

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Taeyong replies, “No you’re fine–it’s fine if you didn’t see it when she handed it to you then it must not have been there in the first place.” Taeyong can hear how disheartened his voice was. Deciding it’s time to go inside, he sends the guard off to go do what they were doing beforehand.

“Hey Tae, how was the–What’s wrong?” Doyoung instantly notices the somber expression placed upon the emperor’s face. “You usually are about ready to jump off of the walls and now you look like the baker just ran out of those sweet potato cubes you get when we go into town.”

“It’s nothing.”

Grabbing Taeyong’s shoulder, Doyoung turns him around so they’re face to face, “That girl didn’t say anything mean in that note she leaves in the bouquets did she? Cause if she did, so help me god- no so help her I will-.”

“Calm down, she didn’t say anything mean. She didn’t say anything at all. There was no note in the bouquet this time.”

“Oh. Uhh well, at least she still delivered the roses. Maybe something happened and she didn’t have time to write the letter,” Doyoung tries to reason, hoping he would be able to say something that would lift his friend’s spirit. Taeyong could tell Doyoung was trying his best to be supportive but there is nothing he could say right now that could make him feel any better.

“Y-yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to think about it anymore, Taeyong leaves for his room with a wave. At least he finished all of his paperwork for the day and he can just lay in bed.

Taeyong finds himself walking through a field filled with flowers without an end in sight. It’s not until he sees the outline of a person sitting in the field that he starts to speed up, hoping he could ask the stranger where he was at.

As he gets closer, the person begins to seem more and more familiar. It has him thinking, trying to figure out who it could be. As if the person hears him they turn around and he’s surprised to see you sitting in the field.

“Hello Taeyong.”

“Ahh hi.” Taeyong can feel his heart rate pick up almost as if it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

“Would you like to sit with me? The bloom is absolutely beautiful today.” Replying with a stiff nod, the usually confident emperor shyly takes a seat in the field of white flowers. Giving the seemingly flustered male a soft smile you pluck one of the flowers out of the field, lifting it up to your nose smelling the fragrant plant.

“Smells heavenly. Would you like to take a sniff?” you ask, taking the flower away from under your nose, handing it to the male opposite you.

Taeyong takes the small white flower out of your hand, lifting it to take a whiff. He immediately recoils as the putrid smell of rotting flesh infiltrates his senses, “Wha-” You snatch the flower away from his hand taking another whiff.

“Smells great, doesn’t it? I love the smell of white poppies.” It’s then that Taeyong’s mind remembers the white flowers that were in the first bouquet that he received from you as well as the meaning of the flowers. Finally taking in his surroundings, Taeyong realises that it’s not just a field of flowers but a field of dead bodies.

“Y’know Taeyong, I used to be sad thinking that I was going to have to go forever without ever getting to see these gorgeous flowers. But because of you and the war your family started, all of these dead bodies were able to sit here and grow some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” By now you have picked up a whole bouquet worth of the poppies, little pieces of rotted flesh hanging off of the bottoms, “Too bad I had to die before I got to see them.”

After hearing her last sentence Taeyong takes a good look at the girl, noticing that the white poppies she had collected were all from her body. “Y’know maybe you should die too so you can fully witness the beauty of these flowers,” you say with a slight tilt to not only your voice but your head.

Before he can question it you’re already driving a spear through Taeyong’s heart.

“Taeyong you look like absolute shit. Do you really think you should be going into town like that?” The bags under Taeyong’s eyes look bigger and heavier than the robe on his shoulders. It has been a week since you dropped off the bouquet without a note.

“Yes, Doyoung. It’s been a month, we don’t want people to worry.”

“Funny. You say you don’t want them to worry but you look like the living dead. They’ll worry either way.” The guard rebutts, crossing his arms sassily.

“Doie, I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with you, just please can we go?”

“That’s just it. You always have time and energy to argue with me! Taeyong, it’s been a week; it was just one note out of hundreds. Who knows; maybe she just forgot to put it in the bouquet, but regardless of what happened you can't keep moping around and carrying yourself like this. You’re an emperor, for pete’s sake! What will you do when she stops bringing the bouquets?”

Taeyong freezes. What will he do? He can't expect you to deliver bouquets forever, can he? At some point you’ll get tired of it, tired of him, and what will he do then? Standing straight, Taeyong makes his way out of the palace, head held impossibly high.

“I- dammit Taeyong I didn’t mean it like-”

“No. You’re right, I can’t expect her to always bring the bouquets, that's selfish of me.” I can't always expect her to be here. It's selfish to expect her to be here. “Come on, we have people to see,” he says, climbing inside of the carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally done unpacking your clothes from the last minute trip you had to take last week, you plop onto your bed, completely beat. One of the families you delivered medicine to ran out suddenly and you had to rush to their house so that their child did not die. You spent the rest of the week nursing the child back to health after they had to go without medicine.

The thing is, you got the message in the middle of making the emperor’s bouquet for that week and you didn’t have the time to make a note to put in the bouquet. Even though you know that the emperor doesn’t receive the bouquets at all, you still felt the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach that entire week.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you’re woken by a series of rushed knocks on your pharmacy door. Getting out of bed reluctantly, you grab your apron, tying it around your waist and walking to the door in order to go see who it is.

“Chamomile Pharmacy, how may I–” you start opening the door until you get sight of the person on the other side and quickly slam the door back in place. Why was Emperor Taeyong at your door?!? And why did you just slam the door in his face? Reopening the door, you start bowing and apologizing to the seemingly starstruck emperor at once. “I-I am so sorry Your Highness, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s just you caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you behind the door,” you hurriedly attempt to explain until Taeyong is knocked out of the way by his royal guard Doyoung.

“We don’t have time for this right now. You can have your little–whatever this is later. We need you to make more of this medicine for Mr. Young immediately. We showed up at his house right as he passed out and this was on his counter!”

Grabbing the bottle, you realize this is the heart elixir you made him some time ago, “Shit! Okay I’ll be right back. I need to go grab something out of the garden first,” You quickly tell the men, writing at the speed of light on a piece of paper. “Here, while I’m getting that I need you two to look and find these in that cabinet over there. I need everything ready for when I get back so I can quickly get this to him.”

Rushing out into the garden, you quickly sort through various plants until you find the two you’re looking for. You barge back into the pharmacy to see that Doyoung and the emperor got a little over half of the ingredients down. “Okay, even though everything isn’t down yet I’m going to go ahead and get started. One of you, continue to look for everything while the other comes over here and gives me a hand. We have to hurry.” You are so focused on getting the medicine done that you don’t even notice Taeyong handing you the supplies.

Finishing up the elixir and gathering all of the utensils, you stuff them into your rucksack and run out of the door. “We rode horses over here, it’s faster than on foot. Hop on Taeyong’s; we have to go,” Doyoung all but commands as he mounts his horse, already taking off. The adrenaline pumping through your system helps to keep you calm about the fact that you now have your arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist and are currently on a horse with him.

In no time you’re riding up to Mr. Young's homely brick house, the one that he and his late wife built back when they were younger. Pushing your way into the house, you see the old man lying on a cot on the floor. Taking everything out, you lie it on a towel next to you on the floor and pull on a pair of gloves.

Quickly checking the old man's pulse, you let out a breath in relief that it’s still there but very faint. You take a pair of medical scissors and cut his shirt open. Grabbing the bottle containing the green elixir and a needle syringe you urgently but carefully extract some of the liquid from the bottle. At this point the silence in the room is deafening, but you’re only able to hear the white noise buzzing in your ears, blocking out any and all distractions.

You check and make sure that it’s the right amount before giving the syringe a slight squeeze, pushing a few drops of the liquid out of the needle. Taking a deep breath, you harshly stab the needle into the man’s chest, forcing the liquid through the needle, unknowingly garnering stiff gasps from those who are watching. You immediately retract the syringe only to place your hand on the same spot, firmly yet softly massaging it.

After massaging for a couple of minutes you sit back, bated breaths falling from your lips. “You can take him to his room now, he needs to rest. I’ll go make some tea for everyone.” Gathering your supplies, you take them to the kitchen to disinfect and sterilize them. Behind the doors of the kitchen you finally feel yourself calm down and it’s then that you notice the intense way in which your hands are shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going fine, and he was almost done making his rounds with everyone. One of the last people he had to meet with was Mr. Young, the sweet old man who always made him help pick things out of his garden, and that’s when the day took a turn. Was it for the worse? Taeyong didn’t know yet. Walking in on the man passed out on the floor shook Taeyong to his core. When he and Doyoung finally noticed the empty bottle on the countertop, they read the label which stated the pharmacy where the medicine was from.

From there, they took two of the guard’s horses and were off to find the pharmacy. It’s there that Taeyong found you, though the circumstances were less than great. He still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him, but the moment was over after Doyoung realized what was happening. Now that everything had calmed down and Mr. Young was okay, the fact that you were just a few steps away in the kitchen was eating at the emperor.

“I don’t get why you just don’t go in there and talk to her.” Doyoung spoke suddenly, sounding bored with his life after noticing the way in which the king fidgeted in his chair, eyes constantly flitting to look back and forth from the kitchen door to his feet.

“I mean, it’s not like she can do anything; you’re an emperor for god’s sake. Unless you want to continue being a creepy stalker, I suggest you go in there and tell her that you’ve been receiving her bouquets and you like them or some shit like that.”

“I-I can’t just barge in there and–”

“He only had jasmine tea in his cabinets, so I hope there’s nothing wrong with that,” you say, walking into the living room with a tray of tea-filled cups in your hands.

“Jasmine is fine,” Doyoung replied, simultaneously leaning down to pick up his cup. Taeyong suddenly couldn’t speak as you looked at him expectantly, wanting to make sure he was okay with jasmine tea. All he could do was look up at your glowing face with eyes that might as well be in the shape of hearts. “Ah jasmine is good for him as well. Forgive my liege, he's still a little shaken up from the situation.”

With a soft nod you turn around, moving to make your way back into the kitchen. It was then that Taeyong’s mouth and mind decided to move as one. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I was going back to the kitchen. I figured you two would want to be alone,” you say, almost cradling the board to your body, gesturing awkwardly towards the door.

“You don’t have to. Why don’t you sit in here, with us?”

“I mean, if you’re fine with that.”

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine.” The words were out of Taeyong’s mouth before he could even process them fully. You move to sit on the other side of the loveseat beside Taeyong.

The sound of purposeful slurping provided by Doyoung barely sufficed at cutting the tension in the room. “I just remembered, we never seemed to have gotten your name?” Doyoung asked, ending the silence that layered the house.

Quickly swallowing the tea in your mouth, you reply “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me, my name is Y/n. I’m the owner of Chamomile Pharmacy.” You add a bright smile at the end.

“Owner, huh? You must really like medicine.”

“Hmm, I guess you could say that, but not really. I mainly just like flowers, and growing up I realized all the medicinal benefits they hold, so I figured why not make money and spend my life surrounded by what I love?” You sit back in the seat, seemingly comfortable now that you’re talking about a passion. “I get to help people while surrounded by plants all day; it’s a win-win.”

“Mmhm, that sounds lovely. Oh, Taeyong.” The king’s head practically snaps up at the mention of his name. Spotting the mischievous look in his best friend's eyes, his stomach practically dropped to the floor. “You love flowers as well, specifically roses. Don’t you, Your Highness?”

“I–”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember your love for roses starting after receiving a bouquet full of them every week.” Doyoung had no idea that this was the flower girl at first, but Taeyong could tell by the way he had been acting ever since you came around that he had come to piece it together–especially after you blatantly declared your love for flowers just a few mere seconds ago.

At his words, your mouth fell open in pure unadulterated shock. The emperor had been receiving your bouquets?! And he liked them? You had no idea how to feel with all of the mixed emotions flowing through you.

Wide eyed, you ask, “You’ve been receiving my bouquets, Your Highness?”

Taeyong is flustered when he replies, “Y-Yes I have, they are very… nice. Thank you for them.”

“He really likes the little love notes you put in them,” Doyoung adds, deliberately putting the word love in front of notes. At his words, Taeyong throws the harshest glare he could at the other man, wishing he could strangle him with his eyes alone.

While Taeyong was glaring daggers at the knight, you couldn’t help but feel sheepish. You thought you were giving those flowers away for nothing, only to realize that the emperor had been getting them and he liked them. Then you remembered that you had forgotten the note in your last one.

“Ah, I just remembered that I forgot to put a note in the last one.” You speak bashfully, lowering your head. “Well, I didn’t forget, per say, I just didn’t have the time–an emergency came up while I was making it and I had to hurry. I didn’t think it would matter that much since you weren’t getting them, but now I know you were, so I feel bad.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand. There’s no need for you to feel bad, things happen.” Taeyong finally speaks, not liking the obvious way in which you blame yourself. Standing up, he motions to a door, stating that he has to use the restroom.

The room sits silent at Taeyong’s absence. You still feel guilty, but before you can think too hard about it, Doyoung shocks you out of your thoughts with a question, “Y/n, why do you always give roses?”

“Hm? Oh, why roses? Well that's easy, because he’s The Rose Emperor .” Doyoung lifts an eyebrow in question. “Ah, I forgot that I’m the only one who calls him that,” you explain quickly. “Well, one of the reasons is because he has this beautiful rose-shaped scar right under his right eye. And I mean, he’s like a rose. Pretty and elegant and practically harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he has thorns, which he uses to keep people away, thorns he uses to hide things from everyone, even those closest…”You trail off for a moment, thinking. “Hmm, if you think about it that way, wouldn’t that mean we're all like roses?” You speak nonchalantly, looking somewhat deeply into your cup of tea. “So that would make this world a bed of roses, wouldn’t it?”

Standing but a few feet away, hiding behind a wall, the man in question couldn’t help but overhear. The way you talked and the words you used to describe him made his heart pound. You sounded so sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t help but believe every word you said. His hand uncontrollably caresses the scar you mentioned. He never noticed that it looked like a rose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doyoung, I need to borrow some of your clothes.” Busting into the guard’s room, the emperor pants quickly, garnering the man’s attention.

“Wha–for what?”

“No questions, I just need them,” the young ruler says, walking into the man's wardrobe. “Oh and if you have a hat and mask, I’m going to take those, too.”

Taeyong’s presence in the shop is known as soon as he walks through the door, a bell ringing upon contact. Hurriedly pretending to scan the shelves as if searching extremely hard for something, Taeyong hears you enter the room through the back door moments later.

“Sorry for not greeting you as soon as you came in. I was doing a little gardening in the back. Is there anything I can help you with today?” you ask, simultaneously washing the slight dirt off of your hands at the sink.

Knowing it would be rude to not acknowledge you, Taeyong turns to face you, self-consciously tugging on the mask resting on his face, not knowing if he wants you to know it’s him or not. You walk over after drying your hands, ready to help the customer, finally getting a good look at the man’s mask-covered face. You freeze in your spot, not knowing if you are just delusional or if Emperor Taeyong is actually standing in the middle of your pharmacy.

“Uhh Your Highness..?” you question slowly, giving the stranger room to deny if needed.

“I–uhmm yes,” Taeyong stutters, taking the mask off of his face, revealing his apparently not-so-secret identity. Despite breathing just fine a few seconds ago, Taeyong seems to not be able to when you give him a dazzling smile. You ask him why he’s here and if he needs anything. “Yes, I’m here because I, uhh, need something to help with… headaches! Yes, I get headaches, y’know, from reading papers all day.”

“I have just the thing to help with that! I get headaches myself, and I find that the plant Feverfew helps a good bit. The plant itself can be a little strong and could cause irritation to the mouth if chewed, so I just grind it up and make a nice little diluted concoction with it, and it does wonders,” you say, grabbing the bottle containing the liquid, placing it on the counter, and making your way to the other side so you could bag the medicine.

“I must warn you, though–it can have very light side effects that can cause nausea, digestive problems, and bloating.” Finishing up you place the now bagged medicine on the counter sliding it over to Taeyong.

“Ah, how much do I owe?”

“Nonsense, you’re good, consider it the Monarch's discount.” Thanking you, the emperor grabs the bag, making his way out the door, “Bye, come again.”

After the first time, Taeyong continued to visit the store, each time for a different reason. He stayed a little longer each time he visited, finding himself wanting to indulge in your presence more and more. Even when you would go to the palace to deliver your weekly bouquets he would come out now just to start a conversation with you. You both would end up just sitting on the palace steps talking for hours on end.

Now was one of the times when you would sit outside the palace talking with the king.

“Your Highness, word was just sent in from the WayV kingdom, and there are forms to be signed urgently.” Doyoung addressed the young emperor, throwing an apologetic look at you for ruining your time together.

A breath falls past your lips as you push yourself up. “Oh well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. See you later, Your High-”

“Wait. Why don’t you come inside with me? This shouldn’t take too long.”

You and Doyoung gape at the emperor, both in shock. Wanting to hurry and get things settled, Taeyong passes both of your almost statuesque bodies. Doyoung offers to show you around while Taeyong does his work but the emperor quickly refuses. “I’ll do it when I finish.”

Grabbing your wrist, Taeyong all but drags you to his office. There are so many twists and turns that you have no idea how Taeyong didn’t get lost. “You can sit over there on the couch in the foyer. I have some books on the shelf over there you can read if you want. I'll be right here behind this desk.”

Taking in the extravagant office, you can’t help but notice how roses cover almost every single open surface possible. He really did keep every rose he got from you. Just that thought alone makes your heart pound so hard that you can hear it beating in your ears. Deciding you should do something before you look weird, you walk over to the shelf, surveying the books available to you.

You pick a book that looks good enough and sit down on the couch.You try to focus on the words in front of you, but the room is warm, and the couch is comfortable, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you felt Taeyong gently shaking you awake. The sun had started to set, casting a beautiful warm golden glow around the room.

Taeyong sat beside you on the couch, still grasping your shoulder as you both stared intensely at each other. You felt yourself slowly leaning towards the beautiful man, almost as if you were in a trance. Taeyong couldn’t help but take in every gorgeous feature on your face as it was surrounded by a golden halo.

Moving his hands from your shoulder to the nape of your neck he pulls you in, no longer able to hide the attraction he has for you. Your lips mingled in a dance only privy to them. Leaving the one on your neck the other moves to the side of your face, Taeyong positions you just how he wants and you couldn’t help but to give in to him.

It was as if his entire being consumed you and you had no choice but to follow his lead. Removing his mouth from yours he steadily transitions his lips lower splaying damp kisses all around your jugular. “Y-your highness, m-maybe we should stop.”

“Call me Taeyong darling and I don’t want to stop if you don’t.” he says, eyes flitting up to look at yours. “Do you want to stop?”

Feeling a fire burning in your stomach setting your lower regions ablaze, you know you can’t give him anything but the truth, “No, I don’t want to stop Taeyong.” Taeyong’s satisfied hum rumbles against your collarbone, “That’s my girl.”

His lips find their way back to yours, an involuntary moan falling from yours as Taeyong pushes his tongue inside your mouth. He takes his time exploring your mouth as if he wanted to get acquainted with every nook and cranny. When he took his lips away this time it was as if he took your soul right with him. A small discontent whine leaves your mouth causing the male to coo, “Aww look at my precious rose, so needy already.”

He plants a small peck on your lips pushing you to lay back on the couch, “May I remove your pants darling?” Giving him a small head nod he starts to lower himself down to your now wet core. Your underwear comes off right along with your pants and the slightly cool air hitting your hot core feels almost heavenly.

Lifting your legs on top of his shoulders Taeyong plants soft kisses along your pelvic region finally deciding to stop teasing he licks a long slow stripe up your wet pussy making sure to give a little more pressure right onto your clit.

Taeyong’s hands move to sit in the crevice of your pelvis, tightening his grip simultaneously bringing you closer to his mouth as he proceeds to contort his tongue between your soft lips as a pianist moves their fingers across the keys aiming to hit the right notes to make you sing.

Your voice cracks almost violently as endless moans drip from your lips like sap out a tree. Eyes sealed shut you can’t help but to see stars as Taeyong makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. His soft hair rests between your fingers latching onto the strands for dear life as you attempt to somehow ground yourself.

If he wasn’t holding you down you know for a fact that you would be humping his face akin to a dog in heat. “Fuck.” he moans between your legs sending vibrations all the way down your body. Suckling your lips between his as he looks up at your face scrunched in pleasure, “Open your eyes baby, look at me.”

You should not have had as much trouble as you did opening your eyes but after a few seconds you finally were able to do so. “I want you to focus on me baby, watch me eat this succulent pussy of yours until you cum.” One of his hands moves, transitioning to start rubbing your clit applying ample pressure.

His tongue starts to prod at the opening to the place in which you seemed to want him the most right now. The combination of his mouth and hands was too much and you felt your legs start shaking as you alerted Taeyong of your oncoming orgasm. “That’s it baby, cum for me. I want to see it.”

You didn’t even know your voice could go as high as it did in that moment. Your labored breaths were halted as Taeyong pressed his wet lips to yours causing you to taste yourself on his lips. “You still up for that tour?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness, there have been reports of an outbreak of some sorts. For right now it’s small but we have no idea what it is or where it came from.” Doyoung says, ending his report on current events.

“Okay, since this is something we have no prior dealings with we need to tread carefully. Get everyone who might be infected and make sure they’re getting proper care. Talk to them, see what their symptoms are and ask what they were doing before they got sick. Maybe we can try and piece together how you contract it.”

“Should we alert the public, Your Highness?”

“No, not for now at least. This is still manageable. We don't want to scare everyone for no reason.” Finishing up his duties, Taeyong starts to head to your house.

You had yet to talk to Taeyong about what happened that day despite having seen each other multiple times since then. Not like you regretted it or anything you just felt bad about Taeyong servicing you and you not being able to return the favor. You were interrupted in the middle of your naughty thoughts when you heard soft knocks ring against the door not to the pharmacy but to your house placed on the side of the pharmacy.

Answering the door you only expected to see one person on the other side of the door. “Hi Taeyong.” you breathe softly gazing at the male opposite you.

“Hello my rose.” placing a kiss on his lips you let him enter the room. Taeyong pulls two books out from his bag and you hurriedly rush over to where Taeyong sits on your bed grabbing your book as Taeyong pulls you onto his lap. Reading for a while your mind can’t help but to go back to what happened.

Taeyong can feel the air in the room change as you squirm on his lap. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh nothing Yongie.”

Grabbing a hold of your waist Taeyong lowers his head to your ear, “It doesn’t feel like nothing darling.” His warm breath hits your ears as he slowly lets his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up the shell of your ear.

“I- just want to pleasure you as well. Last time you only focused on me and I want to return the favor.” you speak turning around in the male’s lap legs wrapping around his waist. You bring the male into a feverous/feverish? Kiss. You hear his breath hitch as you slowly grind down onto his semi hard dick, and you feel the grip he has on your waist tighten.

Moving yourself to Taeyong’s thigh instead of his entire lap. You maneuver his pants off leaving his boxers on. You slip your hand between your bodies reaching for Taeyong’s boxer clad cock. Lightly squeezing while massaging his length you lean forward gingerly planting kisses along his neck swirling your tongue on each spot you kiss.

“Shit Y/n.”

“You want me to take it out, Yongie? Do you want me to wrap my hands around your hard dick and rub you till you cum all over my hands.” you tease applying more pressure to his hard appendage, “Hmm maybe I’ll even let you watch me lick your cum off of my hands.”

“Oh Fuck yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me baby.”

“Hmm please baby, please take it out and make me cum.”

You grin, squeezing his now fully hard cock harder, “Well since you asked so nicely.” Your hand moves to the band of his boxers removing the clothing. His erect penis pops up, slapping the male’s clothed abdomen after finally being released.

You let a few drops of spit fall onto the palm of your hand before giving Taeyong what he wants, gripping him. You slowly start to work your hand up and down his stiff cock fluctuating the strength you use to grip it.

“How does that feel Tae? Are you enjoying yourself sweetheart?” you whisper in his ear speeding up your ministrations. A broken moan falls from the semi pouted lips of the emperor. The feel of your hand gripping his cock felt like heaven he could barely think.

The slick sound of your hand going up and down his dick was all that could be heard throughout the room. Taking your other hand you begin to not only stroke his length but also fondle his balls. “Ah, Y/n I’m not going to last much longer please make me cum.” Wanting to give him what he wanted you run the pad of your thumb along the underside of him and slowly massage the bundle of nerves just under the head.

As soon as you do, a whimper leaves Taeyong’s lips as his head falls forward resting on your shoulder. His mouth starts sucking on any pieces of exposed skin he can find and you feel him mumble against your shoulder, “I’m cumming.” His warm release falls onto your hands covering them as you try to squeeze out every last drop. Raising your hand to your mouth you lick some of the cum off of your hand tasting him.

“Fuck sweetie you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Taeyong. It’s gotten worse. The illness has started spreading; our attempt at keeping it contained was a failure. While it did slow the spread, it did nothing to stop it.”

Slamming his hand on the desk Taeyong couldn’t help but to curse, “Fuck! Did you at least figure out how it’s contracted and its symptoms?”

“Yes, after questioning the patients it became pretty clear that it wasn’t contracted in any specific way. Almost all have reports of having been in public settings surrounded by a lot of people and said a few days later they caught a pretty nasty cold. Instead of it going away like a normal cold does, it started to get worse, pretty soon they couldn't move at all, not even lift a finger. After developing hot flashes, they start to lose the ability to speak, and you know they are about to die when they start to have rashes appear upon their skin.”

“Have you asked the doctors if they can find a cure?”

“Yes, we have already put them onto it, but for now there is nothing.”

Thinking about what he should do, Taeyong's hand comes up to scratch his jawline. He knows that he has to alert the public of the outbreak now. “Okay, since there is no discernible way in which they get it, we can assume for now that it is passed from excessive human contact. Doyoung, I need you to release a statement stating that there should be no excessive contact between everyone. If able to avoid big crowds then stay away.”

Writing the commands down in a notebook, Doyoung asks, “Anything else?”

“Yes, since it has gotten a lot bigger now, the public must be alerted, even though by now I am sure they have each heard their own variations of what’s happening. It’s better to tell them the truth than lie. We need everyone to be fully informed with correct information so that they don’t make things worse.” A tired sigh falls from his lips, “Release a doctor’s statement. I want the royal doctor to make a statement that will tell the public all they need to know about this new illness so they can protect themselves.”

“On it, Your Highness.” Doyoung says, turning around and quickly heading out the door. You were supposed to come visit Taeyong today. He's glad he gets to see you. You always make things better for him. You walk into Taeyong’s office to him writing something in a notebook. He was so involved in what he was writing that he didn’t hear you come in.

“Hey Yongie.” Walking over to the male, you see him raise his head from the paper, looking at you with a dazzling smile.

“Hello, beautiful.” Taeyong pulls you into his lap, “How was your day, my rose?” You start rambling on about what was going on at the pharmacy, and Taeyong finds himself zoning out looking at you talking animatedly about a customer you had today. It’s times like these where Taeyong realizes he could never live his life without you.

Taeyong has been really busy lately, dealing with the disease outbreak. You guys have hardly seen each other. New word had been put out about the disease after one of the people who are believed to have gotten it first were found. Sadly they were on their last string, but their family said something about them eating a strange fruit some odd days before they had gotten sick.

Business for you has practically skyrocketed, people hurrying to get all types of medicines just out of plain fear that they might contract the disease. Even though there is no cure yet, they still think that arthritis medicine will somehow help them.

You had secretly been working on your own attempt at creating a cure, wanting to help Taeyong and get some of the pressure off of his shoulders and wanting to help the people affected by this disease. Of course it has gotten nowhere, but at least you try.

You had asked Taeyong what the fruit that their family said they ate looked like in hopes of being able to find it and base an antidote off of that. He gave you the same description they gave him, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Noticing how empty the pharmacy had become, you felt it was the perfect time to go pick up some bread.

Flipping the sign and locking the door you head towards the bakery. Ever since the decree had been made for people to not group together, the streets had been the emptiest you had ever seen. Walking in, you couldn’t help but notice the other people that stood around talking waiting on their baked goods. Putting in your order, you stand off to the side.

“You know, they say that Emperor Taeyong has caught the disease.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” the first lady says, looking well over offended. “I have a friend who has a cousin who has a brother who has a boyfriend that works in the palace.”

“Woah, so you basically know the emperor.”

“Exactly. I swear on it, the emperor has the disease.” You proceed to tune out the gossiping women on the other side of the room. You know that there’s a good chance the lady is lying, but what if Taeyong has the disease? He hasn’t come to visit in a few days. You feel your chest constrict at the mere thought.

You’re so distraught that you don’t hear the baker telling you your order is ready until after she walks up to you and hands you your bread. “Oh, uhh thank you.” Giving the lady a small nod, you walk out of the bakery.

When you get back to the house, you check for mail and find some in the mailbox next to your door. Picking it up, you notice the royal insignia on the envelope. Figuring it’s from Taeyong, you instantly start to tear it open.

Hello my rose, I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m sick, really sick. I got the disease. I’m so sorry darling. Worst of all is I can’t even see you. I absolutely forbid you from coming here. Do you hear me? From now until we meet again, we can communicate by letter. I love you so much, my rose.

Love, Your Yongie

As your mind slowly starts to register the note, your knees instantly give out, bringing you to the floor of your living room. You can barely register the sting from the impact. You couldn’t help but let out a broken gut-wrenching cry. Your tears feel like fire as they run down your face. You clutch your heart; it’s as if you can feel it breaking.

Everyday Taeyong sends you a letter and everyday you put it in the pile with the others. It broke your heart every time you would put the letters unopened together with the others and never wrote a response back, but recently you had thrown your entire being into finding a cure for the disease. You couldn’t risk another breakdown like when you first found out, because every single second matters.

Every second you spend trying to find a cure brings you closer to a forever with Taeyong, and you couldn’t risk that. You still open and run the pharmacy like normal, but even then you spend all of your time asking customers everything they know about the disease and whatever anyone they knew who had it was going through.

Lately, the way you’ve been going at it was to find the fruit that supposedly started it all and find out why the human body reacts so badly to it. You just managed to find it yesterday while you were out in the forest for the third time hunting for it. You were planning to do some tests and see what you possibly can do.

A series of harsh knocks rain upon the pharmacy door and the irritation at the possible customer shows on your face. “I’m sorry but we’re clo–” Your sentence stops abruptly as Doyoung harshly shoves past you, the anger and tension in his body evident.

“You know, you have some fucking nerve. Taeyong is literally dying right now, he is fucking dying yet he still manages to write you everyday. And on days when he can’t muster the strength he gets someone to write what he says.” Whipping his body around he faces you, face scrunched in a horrendous snarl, “And you can’t even take the time to write a fucking letter back. All you do is sit in this pharmacy and play in your stupid garden all day.”

It’s then that he notices the pile of letters sitting neatly on your desk, a scoff pushes its way past his lips, “Oh my fucking god, you didn’t have the decency to even open them. Have you ever even loved him? Tell me. Honestly.” He stares directly into your eyes, the fire in them seemingly endless. “Or was he just some toy? A part in some plan you had to get rich and become an empress or some shit. Did you just use my best friend for your own selfish reasons?”

Your mouth opens, preparing to say something only for it to close again. Repeating that process multiple times you find out that there were no words you could say that would satisfy him. “And it’s funny because if that was your plan, then it worked. I know you don’t know but Taeyong planned to propose, he wanted–no, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but oh well.” At his statement, your mouth falls open again, leaving you utterly speechless.

A moment of silence passes and a heavy sigh from the male fills the air. He stares tiredly at your desk, exasperated. “He’s dying, simple as that. Doctor says he doesn’t have much longer before the rashes start popping up. His estimate was at most two weeks.” With his face angled away from you, the tears that streamed down his face weren’t visible. “Do what you will with that information. I don’t have the time for this.”

Turning his body, Doyoung walks out the door, leaving a chill in the air. You don’t even have it in you to cry. Your sorrow runs farther than any river in the world, yet the thought that kept you from breaking down was Taeyong’s smile. Then you realized you would never be able to see it again if there was no cure. Swiping away the tears that managed to fall, you get back to work. Taeyong wasn’t going to die on your watch.

Your chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. You could barely feel the shock of your heavy footfalls on the pavement as you ran like your life depended on it. The steps to the palace have never seemed longer as you ran, hoping you made it in time. Passing guards all were blurs as you swore you were running at the speed of light.

Making your way to Taeyong’s room, you see a distraught Doyoung crouched outside of the door. His silent cries cued your heart to fall to your aching feet. Barely able to get the words out you ask, “Am I too late, is-is he g-gone?” Your voice broke as you spoke those words. Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he silently raises his head to look at you. “I can’t be late. I-I found it, I found the cure. I have the cure to save Taeyong.”

Not able to withstand Doyoung’s gaze, you burst through the king’s bedroom doors, instantly spotting the palace doctor at his bed. Taeyong lays lifelessly on the bed, chest barely managing to move up and down. This was not the Taeyong you knew, not the man you fell in love with. This man was just but a shell of him. You had never seen his skin so pale, his face sunken in to the point where you can easily see his cheekbones you loved to rain kisses on.

“Doctor.” Your gaze shifts from the sleeping male to the doctor beside him, “He’s not… dead, is he?”

“No, not yet, but I do recommend you give your last goodbyes.”

Walking up the man, you forcefully push the vial containing the cure into his hands, “Here, this is the cure.” Broken stutters leave the man's mouth as he questions the integrity of your statement. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time; just trust that it will work. I have tested it on five different people, all of varying ages, and four out of five of those people survived. The only reason the fifth didn’t was because they were too far gone.”

You update the doctor on what the antidote is and what it does. “The antidote is not a cure per say, it doesn’t get rid of the disease. I studied the fruit that the disease stems from and something in the DNA of it, let's just say it doesn't agree with something in our DNA, which causes basically an allergic reaction times 100. This antidote soothes the part of our DNA that reacts so badly, and that in turn stops the allergic reaction so that it doesn’t kill us. Now that I’ve wasted time explaining that to you, can we please get the antidote in his system?”

All of your talking caused the sickly emperor to awaken to your voice in the room with him. “Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to not come here. I-”

“Taeyong, calm down, baby, please. I am here to save you.” You nod to the doctor giving him the go for the injection. “The doctor is about to inject the cure for the disease into you, then you’re going to get better for me, okay?”

After administering the shot, Taeyong had fallen asleep again from lack of energy. It had been 10 hours and you sat every single one on his bedside, wanting to be the first to see him. In those 10 hours, you told the doctor how to make more of the cure so that he could get it to everyone, and Doyoung finally came into the room after hearing what you had done, and gave you a proper apology for snapping at you.

You feel a hand grip yours, and you snap your head up to see Taeyong looking back at you with a smile as big as he could conjure right now placed on his face. Quickly handing him some water, you start to question how he feels. Telling you he feels the best he has in weeks was good enough to satiate you for now.

When Taeyong had finally convinced you to lay in bed with him, you chose this moment to give him his answer.

“Yes.” A look of confusion covers Taeyong’s face as he wonders what you are saying yes to. “Yes, I will marry you.”

You and Taeyong decided not to have a huge wedding, instead choosing to hold a ceremony with just a few of your closest friends, but you did have to present yourself to the empire now as the new empress.

“Are you ready, my rose?” Taeyong asks, walking up behind you in front of the mirror, enclosing his arms around your waist. You turn around to look at him directly, taking in his attire.

“Why do you have such a heavy robe?” you question, noticing the heavy piece of clothing. You’d always wondered that whenever you would see him out of the palace.

Shrugging his shoulders, Taeyong plants a kiss upon your cheek, “I-I don’t know it’s just customary, I never thought to change it.”

“Well, for my first decree as empress, I declare that you get a new robe, a lighter one.” you say, dusting the imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “You don’t need to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can tell it weighs you down. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Will do, my empress. Come, we have to go now.”

It was getting to the last leg of the parade the citizens held in your honor. You felt so welcome by everyone. You were expecting people to hate you because you weren’t already a royal before you married Taeyong. “How are you holding up, darling? I know these things can take a lot out of people.”

“I am fine, my love, just slightly tired.” You can’t help but wave at every person you see, feeding off of their enthusiasm. Overcome with emotion, Taeyong can’t help it when he cradles your face in his hands, lowering his head whilst tilting yours to give him room, and plants a loving kiss upon your cheek. Your cheeks were on fire at his public display of affection in front of everyone, yet you found yourself fully indulging in the kiss, closing your eyes in hopes of savoring the moment. The kiss caused an uproar within the crowd, the citizens ecstatic at the relationship between you both.

“Taeyong, what was that earlier today? Why’d you kiss me?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it when I saw you and how happy you looked waving at everyone,” he explains pulling you into another kiss, but this time on the lips. Slowly the kiss becomes heated and you start pawing at each other's clothes, almost ripping them off. Taeyong plants kisses along your neck as you begin to fondle his soft manhood.

You feel Taeyong’s hand slide to your cunt rubbing your clit, “Looks like someones already ready for me. I wonder who made you this wet sweetie.” he taunts, slowly pressing one finger inside of you then a second curving them up and spreading them out in order to stretch your tight hole. Your low breathy moans fill the room bouncing off of each and every wall.

Pretty soon you both are ready, blindly walking yourself to the bed you land on the soft cushion with an oomph. Taeyong slowly grinds his now hard cock up and down your slit puposely prodding at your clit. You wriggle your hips silently begging the male to hurry up and put it in.

Giving into you because he was just as excited Taeyong finally slides himself in, his stiffness getting completely engulfed by your wet hot cavern. “Mmm, I’ll never get used to how well your needy pussy takes me in baby.” His slow thrusts simultaneously scratching that itch but just enough to make it come back for more.

“Harder Tae, I need to feel you wreck me.” Granting your wish taeyong stops the gentle loving strokes, swapping them out for a harsher more unforgiving thrusts. His hips smack yours as Taeyong puts what feels like all the power he has in his thrusts. You close your eyes and see stars as Taeyong fucks your soul out of you. His hands have an unforgiving grip on your waist, one going up to massage your breast, teasing your nipple.

Taeyong starts laying kisses along your body leaving purple spots in his wake. “ I want everyone to see that you are mine and I am yours forever and always.” Whispering in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me baby, let everyone know what we’re doing so they can see who you belong to.”

You all but scream Taeyong’s name out in pure ecstasy as you cum the hardest you ever have to date. It felt as if you had been transported to another world. Taeyong cums right behind you filling you to the brim with his seed. “It’s a little too late to say this now but I think it’s about time we start thinking about children.” He says pulling himself out of your now swollen lower region.

“Oh my god shut up, I hate you,” you cry, out rolling your eyes

“I love you too, my rose.”

#nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #nct 127 Taeyong #nct x reader #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct u fluff #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 127 #bed of roses #MY STORIES

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sly-merlin · 4 years ago

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okey dokey! I'm gonna be a father!

Requesting pregnant reader scenarios, wanna see more of the guys’ duality balancing domesticity and impending fatherhood, and running the world, ya know 🙏🏾😎🤔😀 Just throwing the idea out there since you said we could. Y’know things like ‘I’m trying to leave to set up a meeting but her back is sore & she wants ice cream so one of u needs to suddenly be available. now’ & other things ig. I imagined Ty Kun, John Jae or Kun in as leader & probably hc or jaemin as the wife-sitters (lol)

Since you didn’t specify the unit,I did this with the few members from hyung line. This got so long that I ran out of ideas so let me know if you want me to write for some other members. though j incorporated your ideas but i based it on the concept of them managing the treats in both hands. This is my first time doing reactions so leave some feedback if you wish! Have a nice day everybody.

(7 members) Ft. Taeil, johnny, taeyong, yuta, ten, jaehyun + kun

TAEIL

"Let me message you back!" Taeil whispered into the phone and raised his body to observe your sleeping form. Your head was securely resting on his arm and he let out a relieved sigh as it was one of the few Lucky days when you were not thrashing around in your sleep. Day after day, you were getting uncomfortable with your heavy belly and all he could ever do was keep you company in your frustrations. He couldn't risk waking you up so he tried his best to complete the task in the painful position. He fidgeted with the phone for it was impossible to handle a 6 inch of metal device with one hand. Struggling with the grip for a few more seconds, he finally managed to send johnny a message regarding the inquiry.

Ask tae He has ab eztra key 2 my ofice.

Maybe he should turn his autocorrect on for situations like this!

Thinking his work was done, he locked the phone. just when he was about to put it on the nightstand on a blind guess, it vibrated again!

John: He is out! You need to come asap.

He stopped to watch out for any movement from your side and when there was none, he shifted to his phone again.

Nt my pblm.

He couldn't understand why johnny was being so persistent when everyone was under strict orders to not call him after 10 p.m unless someone was dying!

John: Jungwoo is in trouble with police. I need his fake ID!

Taeil’s scoffed a bit too loudly causing you to stir. He paused in his actions only to continue when he noticed your even breathing. Weighing the options, he concluded that Jungwoo must have forgotten to pay for the food again or something like that otherwise if it was work related then johnny would have been screaming at his door and not through the phone.

Not his 1st time. dw too much. Jst send him some food so he wont cry like last tym.

He deserved that much punishment! With that he switched the device off and wrapped his arm around your waist, returning to the warmth he got to experience only at night times.

JOHNNY

You were on edge since the day you got yourself tested. You could blame it on the suddenly changing hormones or the never present johnny but one thing was sure that you were missing him more than ever. Johnny on the other hand, avoided going back home for the sole reason of finding himself incapable of taking care of you and his dangerous job. That’s why he had assigned hendery to be at your beck and call. He was a medic and since the other medical emergencies could be handled by xiaojun and renjun, hendery had no problem in spending some time with you. His company was full of funny stories of other members and silly jokes. Despite his endless efforts to distract you, the thought that your daughter’s father was missing the growth of his own child always remained at the back of your head. You couldn’t understand how all of a sudden his workload had increased so much that he barely had any time to even see your face let alone talk to you for a few minutes. But all your worries vanished the day he returned and sarcastically ordered hendery to show his donkey self out of his house to never come back again.

“I managed to prepone some important weapon deals”, he bowed gracefully to acknowledge his own achievements, making you chuckle at him, “and I’ve been rewarded with three months of holidays so I shall be spending these months making up for the lost time and creating new memories” he completed, kissing your forehead.

"I never said I need you 24/7. A few hours at most would do John" you said, knowing how his absence would affect the black neos.

"Yeah. But then I realised what if my baby girl mistakes hendery for her father. Can't let that happen now yeah!"

Masked under jokes, you were very well aware of the real reasons behind the toil he had subjected himself to! It was all for you and your baby girl and you knew he would do it again and again even if it meant the end of his life!

TAEYONG

From sharp cold deadly glare to the dragon tattoo that adorned his neck and arms, fellow criminals had every reason to fear this man. His name, in the underworld, screamed cursed royalty. But that was Lee taeyong, leader of black neos.

The taeyong standing right in front of you, struggling with multiple boxes of boards was anything but scary. Cladded in baby blue hoodie and black boxers, he was reading the manual, knocking down the structure again and again as he repeatedly found something missing from it.

"Leave it tae. I can complete this later on. Come and eat now." You whined and suggested while taking bites from the creamy pasta he had prepared earlier.

"what do you mean i can complete this later on. Do you find me incapable of making a crib?"

Yes you did!

But that was not the answer you could give when he was clearly trying his hardest. It was indeed baffling as to why the man who could assemble a weapon with his left hand was unable to join the pieces of a crib with both!

"No tae. You were out for three days so maybe you are just too tired to concentrate!" You explained in the politest way possible that clearly didn't reach him properly. He let out an audible gasp at what felt for him to be the accusatory tone.

"Eat your pasta and watch me complete this in half an hour! You'd regret saying that to me!"

Why was he the one with mood swings?

Just like other bubbling thoughts, you gulped down this one too and nodded enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up as if you would never doubt his capabilities.

But you knew, he might have started the task but he was surely not going to be the one to complete it!

YUTA

“How about sakura?” hyuck suggested. Looks of disapproval were exchanged across the room and sound of mark hitting hyuck’s arm resonated in the living room.

“Cliche!” jaehyun laughed.

“Yes. We aren't naming our daughter sakura and that is final. She’s one of a kind and her name should also be!” you announced your arrival in the room and sat on the floor, making yourself comfortable between yuta’s legs. He wrapped his arms around your belly before leaning his neck to greet you with a sweet cheek kiss.

“Yes. What y/n wants, y/n gets. No sakura!” he held his one hand up in the air, forbidding any further discussion on the name.

"That's not fair!" Hyuck whined only to be dismissed by a wave from you.

"Just because it's not hyuck's choice doesn't mean that you have got right to choose by yourself. The baby is a part of this family so we get to decide what's best for her!" Ten exclaimed loudly getting everyone’s attention.

“How about ayaka?” kun suggested, entering the room with a trolley full of snacks. As the recommendations poured in, the snacks were passed to everyone. Days like these were rare and from the past two months, these rare days were spent daydreaming about the very first child in the black neos house.

“Akira? It’s quite universal you know.” mark joined in, reading the meaning of the name in different cultures and languages.

“Haru”

“No kai!”

Somewhere in the conversation, yuta’s hands had travelled from your tummy to your sides. He knew the little brushes of his fingers had started to work on you as you swatted his hand away with yours. It only encouraged him and he tickled you on your sides more and more, getting the desired reaction. Your body being more sensitive and responsive than usual, you wiggled in his arms and squealed loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. Suddenly his hands stopped as he heard a whiny shout.

“Why are you bugging her?” hyuck hollered, “can’t you sit still for once? Let her breathe for a freaking second. You wanna tickle! Tickle me. Come tickle me but Don’t bother her!”

You were aware of hyuck’s sudden outbursts of protection for you but this was truly something new! And you new tickles were not the reasoning behind his irritation. Sakura was!

“Le-let’s play a game”, kun interrupted before haechan’s frustration would land him into some trouble with the elder, “we’ll write all the suggestions into paper and whichever y/n chooses would be final. How does it sound?”

Everyone hummed along to the idea. Looking over at Hyuck, you noticed a sudden glint in his eyes that spoke trouble. He was clearly planning something evil and until it was all fun and games, you had no trouble for his intentions.

“Since when did you get a bodyguard hmm?” yuta whispered, planting another wet kiss on your right cheek.

“Yua.” you said.

“What?”

“We are naming her yua! When are you gonna tell them that i’ve already decided!” leaning backwards, you said in a hushed voice meant only for his ears.

“When they are tired enough to play any more games. Till then, let’s have fun. Look at hyuck, he’s surely gonna cheat and mark and renjun are going to strangle him.” yuta chuckled against your ear, making you laugh again. Life was good!

TEN

“Xiaojun! Xiaojun! Show yourself you good for nothing potato!” you winced at the volume of ten’s voice. Even though he was outside the room, his vocals were irritating. But you held your tongue from scolding him as he was the only one you could rely on at the moment.

“Xia-

“Did bella bite you again? why are you shouting at-” xiaojun squinted at the wall clock and adjusted his glasses, “at 5:30a.m?”

“Half of the world is up you hibernating bear! y/n is craving ice-cream. You know better than to refuse her so go to her. Your service starts right now.”

Xiaojun scoffed and remained glued to the stairs. Ten raised a brow questioning him but instead of answering him xiaojun came up with one of his own.

“And why aren’t you going?”

“Switchblade prince is called so I gotta go. I don’t think you want her to wait!.”

Xiaojun groaned when ten shot him a wink and left the living room. Of course he had no trouble in tending to your demands which as a medic, he understood very well but ten’s cockiness wasn’t something he was ever ready to handle.

“y/n! What does our prince wanted to eat this early in the morning?” he smiled at you, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“Apples and bananas.”

“I meant what ice cream flavour do you want?”

“Ice cream? Who said ice cream? I want bananas.” you answered him, confused at his confusion!

It was only then that xiaojun realised that switchblade prince was never called in the first place. Ten had fled. Due to fruits! He was contemplating as to what extent he should be manipulating ten’s words while telling you about his betrayal when you spoke up.

“Umm. i guess we can eat mint chocolate as well. I’ll eat a banana chocolate sandwich first then we can both watch a movie and finish the ice cream. What do you say?”

Ok! Maybe revenge could wait. Ice cream would be a priority here!

JAEHYUN

If your husband was cocky, you were seriously too many steps ahead of him and it has taken only 10 days for jaemin to realise that you were just jae's cup of tea and no one else's, at least not as a 4 months pregnant woman.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Jaehyun laughed at jaemin sprawled on the floor like a toddler.

"Noona screamed at me" jaemin mumbled, hiding his face in his neck.

"Oh jaemin! Why did she do it? Were you teasing her again. You know that she doesn't take sarcasm too we-

"No. She threw up the food i made for her and that too thrice since yesterday. I got angry so i told her to eat up or else i won't be making anymore for her. She threw the pillow at me and ordered me to never talk to her again! I mean it's not like i was showing real anger! She's hungry since yesterday. If she won't eat up then she'd be sick. What did I do wrong! Now I made her favourite pasta and she won't open the door for me."

Jaehyun sighed and crouched down to jaemin's level. He knew your emotions weren't in your control anymore but jaemin wasn't wrong either. He was just doing what was right for you and unintentionally, you had ended up hurting the poor boy. Jaehyun patted jaemin's hair before he told him to inform taeyong about his possible absence from the upcoming meetings and activities.

"You can't do that." Jaemin said the obvious.

"Do you want her to eat or not!" Jaemin frantically nodded at him before running off to the main office.

Heating up the pasta, jaehyun made his way to your shared bedroom in black neos.

"Baby open up it's me!" He knocked at the door and hearing his voice,you immediately opened it.

"You are here!" You exclaimed, feeling beads of moisture in the corner of your eyes.

"Aww. Now is not the time to cry." He cooed, entering the room with the tray. Placing it on the coffee table, he turned around and hugged you just the way he missed you.

"I'm sorry for being occupied and only coming back at night. But I'm here for a few days so let's get you all happy like a seal!" He laughed, ruffling your hair.

"I-i yelled at jaemin for no reason." You confessed not being aware that he was already filled in by the younger boy.

"You wanna apologize?" You nodded as he squished your cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss your pouty lips.

"Later on! Now's the time for evening lunch and getting this food in your tummy without it backfiring!"

You laughed at how smoothly he eased your worries. After eating properly, you apologised to jaemin which he accepted but not before crying like a little boy he was!

Bonus :

KUN

"Yangyang what the heck are you doing near y/n. I told you to keep your meaningless books away from her!" Kun felt like his blood pressure would shot up anytime soon.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh really? What's the book that you are reading to her?"

"How to walk like a pro when you are only 2 months old! I want the baby to be high class like me."

Kun's hands found refuge in his hair as he groaned at the boy. Now he needed to read all the books that could possibly reverse yangyang's teachings.

"There is no such book available."

"Yeah that's why i wrote it by myself. Pulled an all nighter but when the baby would start walking at only 2 months of age, you'd thank me!"

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