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juustokaku · 2 months ago

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Dear Daisy - Jongho x f!reader

Summary: Feelings for Jongho weren’t the only thing you developed. Falling in love meant falling ill in this case.

Genre: fluff, angst

Pairings: Jongho x f!reader, slight Wooyoung x f!reader

T/W: blood, choking (not strangling), reader has the hanahaki disease, mean Jongho :(

A/N: This was an attempt of the fic I promised when I reached 100 followers... two months ago... I was asked for fluff, but this is what the fic turned out to be. It’s quite long, so I’m not sure if anyone has the will and energy to read this, but to everyone who does and enjoys it: big thank you!

Word count: 9 904

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It was no secret that your garden was the most admired yard in the whole village. All around the year, it was a sight for sore eyes even in winter.

The stream where spring water flowed joyfully was frozen. The ice was too weak for walking, but its beauty made up for it. Sometimes, you did have to play a lifeguard and save children from the icy stream which was luckily not too deep. A cup of hot chocolate, fresh clothes and a blanket usually made them feel a little happier before their parents could come pick them up from your house.

You also set tallow balls and other kinds of bird food in your garden, helping the birds survive through the cold season. The yard and the roof of your cottage were covered in thick layers of snow. Despite your home being beautiful during winter too, you loved spring.

It was the best time of the year for your gardening hobby to bloom again. The flowers you grew were famous in the village and even people from the nearby villages and towns traveled to buy your plants.

Maybe that’s why the mysterious man had started appearing in your garden when the weather got warmer. After his every secret visit, a bunch of the flowers you had grown from the scratch and cared for had disappeared. You were no genius but you realized soon he had been stealing your flowers. It upset you not only because the beauty of your garden suffered but because selling plants was a part of your income to be able to keep living in the little cottage.

You had to gain courage to confront the man about it; he couldn’t keep robbing the results of your hard work. But whenever you stared at him from your window, an involuntary smile tugged the corners of your lips upwards.

He looked focused on picking the best flowers, his brows furrowed. It was almost like stealing was his job, and he took it very seriously despite being awful at staying hidden.

His habit of coming there would have been infuriating, but you couldn’t be that mad at him when he started tying the flowers together into bouquets. They started as clumsy and frankly quite ugly.

By the 5th time he was rummaging through your garden, you had to do something. Not just because of the thievery but because he intrigued you. His actions were baffling, and you had never seen him before in the village. He couldn’t be from farther away; it would be stupid to travel from another town many times a week for flower bouquets.

You slipped your shoes on and tiptoed to the garden, the soft, fresh-green grass silencing your steps. It was crucial to catch the man off guard, so he wouldn’t have enough time to run away. You felt like you had to talk to him, to know his reasons for sneaking and stealing.

The man was crouched in front of your dear tulips, plucking them up from the soil. It hurt to watch but you couldn’t focus on that in that moment.

You crept behind him, not too close. One deep breath in to prepare yourself and you spoke.

“You could just buy those flowers like a normal person.”

Against your expectations, the man in front of you didn’t seemingly get even startled. His head turned around slowly to look at you.

Only then you noticed how handsome he was. His round cheeks looked squishable and black hair soft and smooth to touch. However, he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated squishes and pats on the head; he was clearly pissed.

It was almost ridiculous how he looked like the angry one despite not being the victim of the theft happening right then.

“It’s just a couple of them. You have hundreds of flowers, so why does it matter if I take a few for myself?” the man frowned.

“Those few flowers are a few potential dollars stolen from my wallet,” you crossed your arms.

As the man stood up from the ground, his stance intimidated you a little. He was still holding the red tulips. Even the color of the flowers was warning you about the man, but you couldn’t back down.

“You’ll manage fine without a little extra money. I know your business is booming.”

The man was thinking so selfishly and it really started to irk you.

“This is the 5th time you’re here. You’ve stolen a bunch of flowers each time, so it makes at least 30 dollars.”

“Then what do you want me to do? I don’t have money to pay for bouquets twice a week,” the man huffed.

It was weird. Why would a grown man resort to stealing just because he wanted a bouquet he couldn’t even pay for? Sure, your flowers were lovely but they couldn’t be that enticing.

“You could take wildflowers from the fields. They don’t cost you anything.”

“No. I want yours.”

“Then start paying for them.”

“I told you already I don’t have money,” the man brushed his hand through his hair in frustration.

Something about the situation was different, and you couldn’t shake off the sensation that the man wasn’t stealing just for fun; he actually needed the flowers. But you needed the money. Having no heart to kick him out of your garden and scream at him to never come back again, you made a suggestion.

“Let’s compromise. You start working in my garden with me, and I’ll give you flowers for free.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes but he didn’t let it show too long. Of course, his stoic image was more important than acting genuine.

Maybe the man had a sense of justice and guilt after all, since he agreed, “Fine. I’ll come here tomorrow.”

You smiled in satisfaction. Once again, another difficult situation handled with grace. It was concerning though, seeing how he had ripped the tulips from the soil with such force. How good would he be at gardening with his fierce grip? That would be left for you to see the next day.

The next morning you woke up early, excited and nervous to see the man whose name you learned to be Choi Jongho. You should have been angry with him for stealing from you and even acting rude and self-righteous; but you were just too curious to get to know him to think sanely.

Jongho was supposed to arrive in a few hours, so you had plenty of time to prepare a little surprise for him. After all, it was best to make a good first impression on new acquaintances – maybe you’d make a friend out of him as well.

You pushed the oven tray in, and it took about 20 minutes for the scent of homemade bread fill the small kitchen. Some margarine, ham, and organic cheese would complement the bread well, and hopefully Jongho would like it.

After setting the table and making delicious breakfast, you sat down on the porch and waited patiently. It was going to be a hot day, and you had been well prepared for it. Hats were essential for sunny days in the garden.

Still, there Jongho came, marching to your house with his head covered only in hair – his hair color wasn’t of any help either in protecting him from the Sun. You were positive you had told him to dress accordingly to the weather, but after knowing him for a day you had a feeling that the man was as stubborn as a mule.

“I see you forgot to wear a hat,” you chuckled.

Jongho who had just arrived on the porch huffed, “I don’t need one.”

You took a look at the rest of his outfit which was fortunately appropriate for the weather. His clothes seemed to be of somewhat thin material yet covered his legs and arms from the Sun.

“Yes, you do. Come inside, I’ll give you a hat and some breakfast.”

You got up from your rattan chair and gestured for Jongho to follow you only for him to shake his head.

“I’m here to work, not to have a tea party with you.”

It was no lie that you felt hurt by his words, brief pain deep inside your chest. Having had woken up a couple hours earlier to bake him bread had been futile, since Jongho rejected your offer with no regrets.

“Have it your way,” you mumbled and led him to the garden.

Jongho was just as hopeless at gardening as you feared he would be. He couldn’t have had an easier task – watering flowers – but he managed to mess it up by watering the flower itself, not the soil it grew on.

Giving the lawn mower to him would have been too risky, since he could have driven it over your toes accidentally or on purpose, so his next task was to pull the weeds. At least his strength came in good use when he ripped the weeds and their roots from the ground forcefully.

But it was impossible not to notice how he had started feeling ill. Despite his attempts at pretending to be a tough guy, he wobbled around dizzily and had to take short, unexpected breaks. It was obvious the lack of a hat combined with the burning sun had caused his body to overheat.

“Jongho, do you want to come inside and have water?” you crouched down onto his level as he was sitting on the grass, holding his head and obviously feeling sick.

“No. I need to work.”

That damn man was like a stubborn child.

“You can have the flowers even if you don’t work as much. I would just rather not have you faint here in my garden.”

“Fine...”

Pleasantly surprised by his acceptance, you walked inside your cottage with Jongho who had insisted he wouldn’t need your help to get up.

The moment he felt the cool temperature the air conditioner provided in the house, he relaxed visibly and sighed. He was holding his hand still on his forehead, probably suffering from headache, testing his temperature or both.

Jongho sat down on your couch at your gesture, and you brought him a big glass of water. Some of the water splashed on his lap as he took it from you with shaky hands, but it didn’t seemingly bother him.

You watched as he emptied the glass down his throat. Jongho was probably the type to say a glass was half empty when you thought it was half full. He hadn’t even thanked you for the water.

The two of you stayed silent for a moment before he presented a question with a light rasp in his voice.

“Is the breakfast offer still good?”

You thought back to the bread that had been left on the dining table, waiting impatiently for Jongho and you to enjoy it. You almost wanted to refuse his request and eat the bread slowly bite by bite in front of him just out of spite. But seeing his unwell expression tugged at your tender heartstrings.

Soon, Jongho was munching on a slice of the bread, avoiding eye contact. His cheeks puffed out cutely while he had his mouth full of food, but you would never tell him how adorable he looked.

“Which store did you buy this bread from? It’s pretty tasty.”

You smiled triumphantly, your chest swelling with pride at Jongho’s indirect compliment, “I baked it myself.”

Finally, Jongho turned his brown eyes on you. The color reminded you of soil in all the best ways. Though he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated that compliment.

“You baked it yourself? I guess you’re a beginner still.”

You frowned, “If you can’t appreciate my hospitability, you can go home. And no, I’m not a beginner. I’ve cooked and baked quite a lot.”

The tension was thick as silence fell between you two once again, but you almost wanted to laugh at the awkwardness of the whole situation. Almost.

Surprisingly, Jongho’s indifferent expression turned embarrassed, and he muttered an apology, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just on a bad mood because of the heat.”

It was the first time you saw him acting vulnerable – if you could even call apologizing that. Still, it made you giddy to see that he let go of his pride for a small moment.

“I understand,” you said, voice soft, “You can lie on the couch until you feel better again.”

“Thanks,” Jongho nodded and lied down carefully, grunting because of the headache.

Quite soon, he was asleep, in the most vulnerable state a human could be. You knew it was because he was feeling ill, but you liked to think he trusted you – which was most likely completely delusional.

You brought a wet rag on his forehead in hopes of it helping to bring his body temperature down. Jongho flinched a little in his sleep at the feeling but made no sign of waking up.

After a half an hour his eyes opened, looking around for a second as if to wonder how he ended up on the couch of a woman he barely knew. That woman had cared for him, but he still threw the rag on the floor ungratefully.

“Wow. How nice of you,” you huffed.

“You could have told me you’d bring some old, dirty rag on my forehead,” Jongho wasted no time in answering.

“It’s dirty only because it was on your body.”

“Explain what you mean by that,” a raised brow from Jongho told that you had irritated him, but you were not going to back down.

“You’re much nicer when you’re asleep,” you sighed and grabbed the rag from the floor.

Jongho was back to his grumpy self now that he was awake and feeling better. Secretly you almost hoped he would feel ill most of the time so that he’d treat you with respect.

“Give me the flowers, and I’ll leave.”

The two of you went back to the garden which was much cooler now that afternoon had turned into evening. You admired the hues of violet, red, and yellow the sunset had painted the sky with.

“I want those,” Jongho pointed at a flowerbed of light pink peonies.

You immediately had to reject his request which was honestly more like a demand.

“You can’t have those.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

It would have been nice of you to open up, to tell the reason why those flowers were important for you. But had Jongho been nice to you? No. You did not owe him an explanation.

“Take anything else in the garden. I don’t sell or give those peonies.”

As you watched Jongho walk into the distance with a few daffodils, an exhausted sigh left your lips. He was a lot to handle for sure.

The next days weren’t easy either, full of bickering and Jongho messing something up in your garden. More than once, while plucking bad, dried leaves of the plants he ripped the whole flower from the soil. Every time he was picking cherry tomatoes, he dropped them on the ground and “accidentally”, as he claimed, stepped on them.

You gave him simple tasks but he managed to cause more harm than good. His incredible strength would have been useful with carrying rocks and other heavy things, but you feared he’d drop them somewhere it would cause great damage.

But you couldn’t help but admire Jongho’s work ethic, the way he seemed to do his best to earn the flowers. It was hard to be mad at him when he looked so disappointed in himself whenever he ruined something.

Nevertheless, there was no reason to have him work for you when it just meant more work for you with fixing his mistakes. You also felt like he didn’t enjoy spending time around you at all; the time had come to fire him.

“Jongho. I’ve been thinking of something,” you said softly, interrupting Jongho’s work.

He glanced at you, “Uh-huh?”

You inhaled and exhaled, ready to tell him the harsh reality, “I can’t have you working for me anymore.”

Jongho looked as devastated as the flowers that had wilted due to him overwatering them in the span of many days.

“I... I understand. I haven’t been much help here,” he sighed, “And I’m not very good company.”

You couldn’t deny the truth of neither statements so you just nodded.

“That’s right. You’ll have flowers as a thanks from today’s work, but from now on you have to get your flowers from somewhere else. Preferably not by stealing from someone else’s garden.”

Jongho let out a sad chuckle. It was a relief that he understood your reasoning and didn’t fight you back on this.

You felt pity for him and guilt, but sometimes one had to think of their own good. There was no mind in letting him ruin both your garden as well as your day.

After you had fired him a couple days ago, you felt unpleasant emotions you hadn’t expected to experience. Despite all the bickering and tension between you, a feeling of loneliness bothered you.

You had friends, it wasn’t a lack of friends that gnawed at you, but you were often alone in your garden. It was a fresh change from the usual routine to have someone work in there with you. Although Jongho and you hadn’t gotten along very well, you missed him – probably just because you needed some company in general.

A basket in your hand, you strolled around the village’s market. Although it was quite busy in there, you didn’t get a sense of claustrophobia. The townspeople had respect for other people’s personal space – that didn’t mean they had respect for other people’s personal business though. Even the younger ones in the village had received the gracious gift of gossiping from the elders.

Then, a conversation of two women caught your attention.

“Have you seen that new man in the town?” an old lady with a hideous hat whispered louder than probably intended.

“Sadly, I haven’t.” a slightly younger woman shook her head.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. He has been spending time at home awfully lot. Seldom steps out of his property, absolutely never greets me when I wave at him from my yard.”

You had to hold back a chuckle at the hat-lady's huffy tone.

“Is he handsome?” the younger woman asked.

“Dear God, very much so. But although you’re younger than me, it doesn’t mean he’s in your age range. I’d say he hasn’t reached even 30 years yet.”

“I think I’ll try my luck nonetheless.”

“Oh, Agatha. Have some decency,” the hat-lady scolded the other woman playfully.

You were not one to gossip around with the other villagers, but that didn’t mean you were left completely in the dark. Based on the ladies’ words, it was undeniable that the man was Jongho. Honestly, it made you feel a little proud that he, who apparently rarely left home, had gone out of his way just to steal flowers from you.

You looked around the stalls selling objects ranging from vegetables to vehicles like bicycles. Nothing extraordinary seemed to demand your attention, until a certain man appeared in front of you.

“Hello, Wooyoung,” you smiled.

“Well, hello there. You’re looking as dazzling as ever,” Wooyoung glanced at your looks; the way your long dress, once approved by the elders, had stains in the hem. Most of your dresses looked like that, given that you spent your days crouching on the ground and hands deep in the soil.

“I will throw one of these eggs at you if you don’t stop with your sarcastic compliments,” you grabbed a freshly-bought egg from your basket to threaten Wooyoung.

He didn’t seem to worry for his life and just smiled in amusement, “It wasn’t wholly sarcastic. Despite using those old, filthy rags as clothes, you’re as cute as a button.”

“You really know how to compliment a woman,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t resist a small smile.

Wooyoung was the type to gossip around every time a new juicy piece of information was uncovered. You two were friends, and he was the reason you were able to keep up with the current rumors. He would have surely had something new and interesting to tell you again, and you were waiting impatiently to hear it.

“I’ve seen the new man head for your cottage more than once... What’s up?”

Jongho was definitely the talk of the town even though he had moved there a month ago already. You didn’t care if people were interested in him, but now that you had been dragged into the situation, you had to protect your privacy before the snooping villagers would start to spy on you.

“He just bought some flowers,” you said.

“With his body?” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to refrain from smashing one of the eggs into his head.

“Not exactly. He helped me around in the garden. You could be of help sometime too.”

“What do I get in return?”

“A warm hug from a friend.”

Wooyoung groaned in annoyance, “Not even a little kiss for your good ol’ pal Wooyoung?”

After rejecting his attempts at charming you, which had almost become a routine, you made your way home. The basket in your hand was quite heavy, full of food ingredients for the next few days. Fortunately, it didn’t take you long to see the gate to your garden.

What you didn’t expect was seeing Jongho standing on your porch, holding flowers in his hand. Had he been stealing from you again?

You tried your best not to look angry, but the way you stomped to Jongho was a clear sign you did not appreciate him stealing your flowers.

Your frustrated gaze didn’t scare him, not one bit. Although you were glaring daggers at him, he stood there proudly with the flowers.

“Jongho. Why have you been stealing from my garden again?”

The said man pushed the flower bouquet for you to take it.

“They are not from your garden. They are wildflowers.”

As you took a closer look at the flowers, you noticed that they were from the fields and ditches indeed, since you didn’t have those plants in your garden. It was fair game to pick them up. To be exact, it was a bouquet of classic white daisies. Although the flowers weren’t exceptionally beautiful, Jongho’s actions were.

“Why did you bring this to me?” you asked as you received the bouquet.

“I want to continue working here,” Jongho stated, “And it’s an apology as well for that one time I destroyed the roses.”

You grimaced as you recalled the moment of him losing control of the lawn mower and driving it over your dear roses.

“Apology accepted... I think.”

A couple daisies would not replace the roses, but you appreciated Jongho’s kind gesture.

“So, I’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Hold your horses. I didn’t say you could work here again.”

At your words, Jongho’s often so indifferent eyes turned disappointed and he genuinely looked upset. You didn’t enjoy seeing him that way but what could you do? Let him step on a wandering hedgehog on your yard? Or slaughter the fishes in your pond by pouring chlorine in there?

Maybe you could give him an easier task. But was it possible when he didn’t even know how to water the flowers?

“Fine. I’ll hire you. But you’ll do everything under my surveillance, until I deem your skills decent enough.”

And to your surprise, Jongho gave you a small, relieved smile. The corners of his lips barely rose but it was more than enough to make your heart flutter. Hopefully you had finally managed to warm his icy core.

“Thanks. I’ll try my best not to let you down again.”

During the next week Jongho came to your garden almost every day, ready to work hard to actually earn the flowers. Even stealing them had felt better than getting them from you out of pity.

You had set the flowers you received from him into a vase near the window. To Jongho it may have felt like they were observing him, reminding that he had better do great job now.

“Good. Now water them near the soil instead of the flower part,” you taught Jongho how to water plants without absolutely obliterating them.

He started pouring water like a tsunami had hit, the water coming out of the can with great pressure onto the poor flower.

“No!” you exclaimed.

Without thinking anything else than saving your plants, you took hold of the can to stop the downpour, your hands on top of Jongho’s.

Although you hadn’t paid attention to it in the moment, you noticed only when he looked at you weirdly.

“Sorry,” you muttered and instantly snatched your hands away, losing contact to Jongho’s warm ones.

For a moment, he looked almost offended, like you had insulted him by touching him. He acted like he didn’t have dirty hands too.

Then, a soft and amused chuckle slipped past his lips. It was like music to your ears; you couldn’t hear any malice or mockery in his voice.

Neither of you addressed the situation as the two of you just continued watering the flowers. Despite your desperate attempts at acting like nothing had happened, the atmosphere had changed – not to worse surprisingly.

And without noticing, you had gradually taken a liking to Jongho. Maybe even more than was good for you. He wasn’t the type you usually fell for; he was grumpy, borderline rude, and had stolen your flowers. But you could notice his stoic facade cracking from time to time, glimpses of goodness and lovability shining through.

Whenever he messed up, he looked sincerely apologetic, beating himself up for destroying something up in your garden once again. Maybe it was because he feared he’d get fired again, or maybe he actually cared about doing good work.

You also couldn’t help but admire the way he got more skillful with time. With some tasks he didn’t even need your guidance anymore. There was no way you’d trust him with the lawn mower yet after the rose disaster, but you felt proud, looking at Jongho get satisfied from finally succeeding in a task – no matter how simple it was.

His occasional smiles and jokes made your chest ache. Someone would have told you it was just the feeling of being in love, but your doctor had something else to tell you. You hadn’t just developed feelings for Jongho; you had developed a disease as well.

The chest pains and coughing that had begun to occur more often hadn’t concerned you. Only when light pink flower petals started coming out when you coughed, you contacted a doctor.

“What is ‘hanahaki disease’?” you had asked, confused by the doctor’s diagnosis.

The doctor had clasped her hands together, looking at you with a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Your symptoms of chest pain and coughing up flower petals are part of it. The disease develops from unrequited, one-sided love and takes place in your lungs, growing as flowers,” she had explained, “Unfortunately, in your case it has spread to your heart as well.”

“Will I... die?”

“Possibly. Your only chances to live are if the person of your affections confesses that they feel the same way. It’s possible to also have a surgery but that will result in losing your feelings for them and even memories of them. However, if the disease progresses into its final stage or the one you love rejects you, you will choke on the flowers and blood.”

“How is this disease even possible?”

Sitting in a car, you gazed outside. Wooyoung had come to pick you up from the hospital, which was in a town nearby, still too far to walk to. You wondered why couldn’t you love Wooyoung, the man who cared for you already, who had spent almost a third of his life trying to win your affections.

Still, you couldn’t erase your feelings for Jongho. A part of you didn’t even want to, although it would cost you your life. Just to love him for a short time with your whole heart until it stopped beating sounded better than living for long in loneliness, missing out on what could have been. To love and never be loved back is painful both mentally and physically even for people who aren’t sick, but for some people it’s harder to never be able to know what love is. What it feels like to receive a smile from your love, no matter how slight it is. What it’s like to exchange a few words even if they were just greetings, passing by.

What it’s like to cry and scream into a pillow for hours, be the reason big or small.

What it’s like to do anything to make them happy.

What it feels like to die for them.

You had it all now, the love you had craved for so long, thinking you were just unable to love. There was no way you would get the surgery if it meant losing everything you had experienced with and towards Jongho.

It was foolish really, the two of you didn’t even know each other that well yet. Most likely, almost definitely, he wouldn’t even reciprocate your feelings, and that’d be the end.

You were deep in your thoughts when suddenly Wooyoung’s voice brought you back to Earth.

“What did the doctor say?” He glanced at you quickly, focused on driving. Although he rarely showed his gentler side, the quick glance was enough to tell he was worried for you.

“She diagnosed me with hanahaki disease.”

Wooyoung fell silent for a few seconds. You expected for him to ask next what the disease was, but he managed to surprise you.

“Is it because of Jongho?..”

Only thing you could do is nod and let out a heavy sigh. The trees passed by as Wooyoung kept driving in the mostly empty road, getting closer to the village already.

“Have you considered the surgery?” he asked quietly.

This time you shook your head and answered, “I don’t want to. Now that I’ve finally fallen in love, I want to experience it without running away from it like I usually do, being the coward I am.”

Wooyoung gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, getting agitated by his worry for you. Clearly, he didn’t like the idea of losing you because Jongho didn’t possibly love you back.

“It’s not cowardice. You can’t give up on your life because of Jongho.”

“The surgery costs anyways. I don’t have enough money for that.”

The next day, you had invited Jongho to meet you at the market. It was risky since you had no idea how he’d react to your suggestion you’d make when meeting him.

You spotted him standing in front of a flower shop, looking through the window in concentration. Lots of beautiful flowers had been set there to attract customers.

Quickly, you skittered over to him and smiled when he turned his head towards you. In response, you only got a nod. The mission of making Jongho fall in love with you and saving your life felt impossible when one moment he was receiving of your kindness, and the other he ignored you.

“The flowers here are way uglier than yours,” Jongho blurted out to you.

The shop owner, standing next to the flower shop’s door and smoking, having overheard Jongho’s words, gave him a harsh glare. He threw away his cigarette and stomped back inside, slamming the door shut.

“Also, how does he think his shop is going to attract any customers when he is smoking next to the door?” Jongho wondered.

You giggled. No matter how much you wanted to take the shop owner’s feelings into consideration, you couldn’t help but agree.

“He’s quite a strange person anyways. Always comes to my garden, disguised as an old woman so he could buy my flowers without losing face,” you revealed, getting a snort from Jongho in response.

Finally, he turned around properly to talk to you. When his brown eyes met yours, the familiar butterflies fluttered in your stomach – or maybe it was the flower petals in your lungs. Either way, you didn’t care as long as you were close to Jongho.

“So, why did you want to meet me here?” Jongho inquired.

You fiddled with your fingers, “I was thinking you and I could spend some time at a cafe. Take whatever you want, I’ll pay.”

Jongho raised a brow. For a moment you thought he was going to reject your offer immediately.

“Why?”

“It’s a ‘thank you’ for working hard in my garden.”

“The flowers are enough already,” he answered with no emotion.

Your shoulders slumped. Jongho knew just how to break your heart. The hope that had been awaken when he agreed to come to the market was crushed now that he rejected your advances once again.

“But I guess I’m quite thirsty.”

It was his quite indirect way of finally agreeing, so soon the two of you were sitting on the terrace of a cafe that was as popular as could be in a village.

People were walking by, the gravel under their shoes rustling nicely. It was a beautiful day, all of the migratory birds having returned from the South, and their chirping and singing reached your ears. Still, all your attention was directed at Jongho.

He was sipping on an iced americano quietly. His black hair had fell slightly in front of his eyes, so you couldn’t see where he was looking. Sincerely, you hoped he was looking at you, longingly and lovingly in the best case.

“I think you’ve done really good work in the garden,” you said.

“Thank you. I’m trying my best since I still feel quite guilty for destroying your garden the first time I started working there,” Jongho simply nodded.

Even though he didn’t seem that interested in the conversation, you felt warm just by sitting with him. A teasing chuckle left your lips, “I almost thought you did it on purpose. I mean, who thinks setting the weeds on fire is a good idea?”

Jongho smiled, clearly amused by his past actions, “Oh, come on. It was just a moment of misjudgment. I thought it would get rid of the weeds for good.”

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you,” you blurted out without thinking for even a second.

Jongho raised a brow in his usual style, this time looking even more confused than before.

“I-I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you’re the best garden-helper I’ve had,” you hurried to fix the situation.

Those kinds of slips could be even life-threatening to you. If Jongho found out you had fallen for him, he’d reject you. That would only mean a bloody, sorrowfully beautiful death for you.

“I don’t believe that. You really have had worse workers than me?” Jongho leaned forward as if to check if his hearing had betrayed him.

“Um, yeah. For sure. Once, my friend Wooyoung dug a hole under my shed, and it collapsed,” you lied rather not-so-smoothly.

The man in front of you started laughing, his eyes looking like little crescents. It could have been of amusement, happiness, or mockery, but his laughter was the only thing that mattered to you.

“Fine. Go ahead and lie to me,” Jongho rolled his eyes playfully, “That’s what everyone does to me anyways.”

Your awkward conversation had turned into playful banter with just a push into the right direction, and you were elated that Jongho was receptive to your attempts at getting closer to him. Could you two be even called friends yet? Determined to make it happen, to earn a place in his heart, you weren’t about to give up.

“So, why did you decide to move here?” you were curious to know which demon had possessed Jongho to make him move to such a small village.

“I’m trying to make a person’s dream come true.”

His response was vague, but based on his expression he wanted to avoid the topic. Not wanting to push further, you changed the topic.

“Who are the flowers for? You’ve been quite adamant on getting them.”

“For that person. Don’t ask more,” Jongho answered.

The atmosphere turned strained, and you regretted prying onto his personal life. Clearly, he wasn’t comfortable sharing details about some things which you were confused about. You hadn’t realized those questions would be so private.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. But don’t ask those things again,” Jongho sighed.

He got up from his seat, and you felt your stomach drop; had you really offended him that much?

“Where are you going?” you looked up at Jongho with eyes looking pitiful.

“Home. I have to take care of something,” he simply said and walked back inside the cafe, probably to fetch his jacket he had left to the rack.

You were left alone with your own thoughts. The more you concentrated on the possibilities of Jongho hating your guts now and never wanting to see you again, the more you felt the familiar urge to cough climb up your throat.

You couldn’t stop the violent cough fit or the petals that slipped past your lips painfully, falling to the wooden planks of the terrace. People were watching in concern, glancing at you and whispering to each other. That was the least of your worries now. Only Jongho mattered.

Once the final petals fell, you decided it was time to leave. There was no mind in staying there, just wallowing in your own sadness. You didn’t know if coughing up flowers even was more painful than hearing Jongho’s cold, aloof voice.

But when you walked inside the cafe to pay for his iced americano and your own drink, the barista told you a handsome gentleman had already paid for them.

Your heart was about to swell so big that it could burst if it was poked with a needle. There was still hope. Jongho wasn’t completely out of reach, he didn’t hate you; there was no way he could, since he had paid for both of your orders.

You didn’t want to listen to the growing voice in your head that nagged something was wrong.

But the voice didn’t leave you alone even during the night. The nights weren’t as dark as in winter, but it didn’t make you feel better. Your soft bed swallowed you in just like your anxious thoughts did. You were nearly drowning in them. Thoughts about Jongho already having someone he loved bothered you.

You couldn’t ignore how likely it was. After all, he had mentioned giving the flowers to someone.

You tried so hard to sleep, to finally stop the thoughts for a moment, but they refused to leave. A headache was starting to knock on your temples.

The thought of Jongho giving those flowers to some beautiful woman, flashing her a smile he never gave you. The thought of his warm fingers brushing against the woman’s while they exchanged words of affection.

It made your chest ache. Lately, the pain had been getting worse day by day. To be honest, you were scared. The increasing chest pains, the bloody petals, the thoughts of Jongho loving someone while he rarely even smiled at you. There was no way to win other than by making him fall for you.

But if he was already with another woman, you were not going to do the crime of stealing her man. That woman did not deserve to get hurt like that no matter how much you wanted Jongho.

You had slept the night extremely badly – if two hours of keeping your eyes shut could be even called sleeping. Still, the excitement of seeing Jongho again flooded your veins with energy.

In your energy burst, you prepared breakfast and fresh drinks for him, not even remembering the first day he had worked for you and rejected the bread you had baked just for him. It was like you never learned from your mistakes.

Glass by glass, the self-made lemonade you had prepared disappeared into your stomach as Jongho never came. You waited for four hours.

By the first hour, you were sure he was just late, the poor man running to your house.

By the second hour, you thought he had slept in. He would wake up, panicked and call you to inform with his attractive morning voice that he would come soon.

By the third hour, you considered he could be sick and couldn’t come.

But when you had been waiting for four hours already, you had lost hope. Even thinking that Jongho had forgotten was too hopeful; surely, he just didn’t want to come. The once blue sky had been covered in black clouds, dark like your thoughts.

Waterdrops started falling one by one, soon turning into a heavy rain. At least you didn’t have to water the plants that day.

Unable to move for a moment, you kept staring into the distance, imagining that Jongho would run in the rain to your cottage and ask for shelter. Oh, how you wished you could just receive some basic respect and love from him.

You gathered the plates, glasses, lemonade can and breakfast back into the basket, ready to go inside. Once again, your attempts at serving him breakfast and spending a peaceful morning with him had been destroyed. Did the universe or Jongho hate you? Despite having known him for a month already, he didn’t even give you a chance to get to know him on a deeper level. You weren’t asking for much; just normal conversations about your lives without feeling the need to hide something.

Then again, you were hiding things from him as well. The hanahaki disease was progressing, getting worse every day, but you could never tell Jongho the truth. It was for your own safety – not just for the safety of your emotional well-being but your life.

Jongho hadn’t appeared for a week. Every day you sat on the porch, waiting to see him walking to your garden. But there were no sightings of him even when you asked the other villagers about his where-abouts.

The longer he was away, the worse your disease got. Whenever you coughed, more blood came out. It splattered on the floor and left a taste of iron in your mouth. Sometimes, the flower petals, which began to get bigger and thicker, got stuck in your throat and you had to dig them out with your hand.

Despite all the love you had for Jongho, you began to realize you couldn’t let this go on. It could be too late soon if your hanahaki disease progressed into the final stage. The thought of never seeing Jongho again, feeling love for him, or remembering him broke your weak heart, but the thought of dying had begun to terrify you worse.

The shorter, fun days in the garden turned into mentally and physically tiring work, lasting over 10 hours per day. Flower sales went up and people came to look at your garden every day, buying everything ranging from seedlings to jams you had made from the last year’s berry harvest. It was summer; while it was the busiest time of the year for you anyways, this time it was different.

You tried to gather the money for the surgery. It was decided. Jongho wasn’t even around, and as the days passed, your condition got gradually worse. The chest pains lasted longer, a piercing feeling poking all around your heart.

There was no way you could let Jongho keep working there; you needed those flowers he would choose as his payment. Money was more important to you now than it had ever been.

You had tried to call him countless times to give him a chance of explaining. Just hearing his voice could have changed your mind about the surgery. Eventually you had to send a text message to Jongho, telling him you didn’t want him back in your garden again. He would never set a foot on your soft grass again or pick up flowers from the flower beds.

Except that’s exactly what he was doing.

One evening, you gazed from the window, deep in thoughts, and caught a glimpse of someone in the garden plucking up flowers snatched your attention. Immediately, you realized it couldn’t be anyone else than Jongho.

You ran outside, not bothering to wear shoes. Your mind was racing and feelings conflicted. There he was again, in front of your eyes, at your reach. Were you excited to see him or mad at him for stealing your flowers?

But when he turned around to look at you, you saw him properly and got your answer. You were definitely mad.

As if stealing flowers from you again wasn’t bad already, but what he was holding in his hand was what made you see red.

The only flowers you had told he couldn’t take had been ripped from the ground, leaving an ugly mess behind in the flower bed. He was holding your light pink peonies. The flowers would be dead in some days, just a memory of memories.

“What have you done?!” you ran up to Jongho.

It was impossible to determine if you were heart-broken or furious. Maybe there was only a fine line between those things anyways.

“I can pay for them,” Jongho suggested, seeming surprisingly guilty.

“I don’t want your shitty money! Those peonies were important to me.”

Jongho’s confusion and guilt moved aside as he started defending himself, “Uh-huh? What importance they could even have to you?”

You felt your blood boiling, threatening to burn your insides. The audacity Jongho had made you wonder how could you ever have fallen in love with a man so selfish and uncaring.

“They are a remembrance for my parents, being the only flowers that are left from the time they were alive. Don’t you see how selfish you are being?” you took a step forward, glaring at Jongho with all your might. Maybe he’d die from your gaze, or maybe you’d die from heartbreak.

His angry expression faltered for a moment, but he regained his control, “I’m not doing this for selfish reasons.”

“You’re still being incredibly selfish towards me!”

Jongho walked closer to you and looked straight into your eyes, “And why should I care?”

The coughing was beginning again but you stood your ground, “I thought we were friends,” your voice broke a little in the middle of the sentence.

“Then you thought wrong. I don’t have friends. You mean nothing to me.”

You gasped. Jongho probably thought it was out of shock, but that was not the whole truth; you had started having trouble breathing.

“You asked who the flowers are for?” he shook the peonies in his hand, “They are for a woman I actually care about. Who I love.”

You had known it. Jongho was already in love with someone else and had been getting those flowers for that woman. All the signs had been there, but you had been such a fool in love that you lived in the delusion of him being able to love you back someday.

“Hey... What’s wrong?” he asked as he started noticing your weird behavior.

You couldn’t respond. The end had become; Jongho had rejected you. The coughs had started, but you knew it would not help. Too much blood, too much flowers. Too little time.

You clutched at your throat desperately, but what use would it be? Your windpipes were full of the petals and would continue to be. All because you loved a man who couldn’t spare even an ounce of empathy for you.

As you fell down on the grass on your knees, painting the ground with blood and petals, Jongho seemed to finally realize something was horribly wrong.

You saw him calling someone, probably 911, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Everything felt too fast, but it was better than to die slowly. The noises around you were starting to get quieter and slowly your sight blurred. You would have wished to see Jongho at least holding you during your last moments instead of talking in phone. Maybe he wasn’t even calling 911. He could have been talking to the woman he loved.

But what had you expected? You meant nothing to him.

It was dark for a long time. Felt like an eternity but nothing at the same time.

When your eyes finally opened, you couldn’t even recognize what you were looking at. Your sight was blurry, could have been because you just woke up, but the tears in your eyes were the main reason. Why were you crying?

In your mind, there was no cause for the tears. You couldn’t recall any moment that could have made you cry. There was a feeling of something missing in your chest, an absence of something you had grown used to. It was impossible to pinpoint it because it was like even your mind had a hole.

After a moment, you could see what you were looking at: a ceiling. It wasn’t a surprise since you were lying down on a bed. With a few glances to your sides, it was clear you were in a hospital. An IV pump was connected to your hand with a tube.

“E-Excuse me,” you murmured, not knowing if there even was anyone in the same room.

Given the fact that it was not unusual for patients to be in the same room, you shouldn’t have gotten startled when a female voice answered behind a curtain dividing the room.

“Do you need a nurse? Are you in pain?”

She sounded young and kind yet weak, her hoarse voice indicating that she was in the hospital for a good reason as well.

“Why am I here?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. But you were under anesthesia most likely. You were asleep when they brought you here,” she answered.

A heavy sigh pushed past your lips. You felt so tired both mentally and physically. The hole in your mind felt heavy, like something important had been ripped away from you, and you couldn’t remember what.

“I hope you’re alright, and you won’t have to stay in the hospital for long. It gets quite boring here,” the woman behind the curtain continued.

You smiled slightly although she couldn’t see it, “How long have you been here?”

It was quiet for a moment as she pondered her answer, the only sound being the beeping of the machines around you.

“Too long. I moved to a nearby village about two months ago, and I’ve spent most of the time in the hospital.”

Despite her sad revelation, it surprised you how hopeful she sounded. It must have been awful to stay most of the day inside those four walls.

“How much do you go out? It’s so beautiful outside,” you wondered, hoping that the question wasn’t too intrusive.

She chuckled, “That’s the sad thing. It had been my long-time dream to move to the countryside to see the nature. I had been hospitalized for so long, and I was excited to finally get released. Now, my condition has worsened again.”

You felt your heart ache for her. The world was so unfair; to give that sweet woman hope only to crush her dreams later.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

When she spoke, you could hear the smile she had on her face, “It’s okay. At least I have my brother. He brings me flowers often, so I could have a piece of the nature here with me.”

The emptiness inside you throbbed at her words. Most likely, you just felt lonely, and you hoped Wooyoung would visit you.

“That is so sweet of him. Does he live in the same village?”

“He moved there with me. Honestly, I don’t deserve him,” she spoke, “He has been paying for my hospital bills for years, and I’m just a burden. I don’t even know how he affords the flowers he brings me.”

A frown settled on your face at the woman’s words. How did she dare to call herself a burden? Every person is a burden to other people, some on purpose and some against their own will. The woman you were talking to was definitely not a burden so that she could take advantage of her brother’s kindness.

“Your worth can’t be measured by some amount of money. You bring happiness to your brother by your presence and existence, and no money can pay for a true, caring relationship,” you reassured.

“Thank you,” the woman spoke, sounding genuinely grateful.

Then, the door opened and a man came in. He had black hair and was wearing clothes that didn’t reveal much skin.

The man had a neutral face, eyes directed straight forward. But when he glanced at you quickly, his expression betrayed him. Feelings of surprise, sadness yet relief flooded over him, and he didn’t even bother hiding them again.

With quick steps, the man approached you. The two of you just looked at each other, the other one confused while the other one had tears prickling his eyes. He held two flower bouquets tightly in his both hands, and he pushed the one with daisies towards you.

“I came to see you.”

“May I ask who are you?” you tilted your head.

“I-I’m sorry...” the man bit his lip, clearly overwhelmed by his emotions.

“That’s not a name,” you chuckled.

The woman behind the curtain, having recognized the man’s voice, spoke up again, “His name is Jongho. He’s my brother.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you.”

The man named Jongho did not look pleased. Devastation furrowed his eyebrows, and his lips quivered. You couldn’t understand why he had brought you daisies; you hadn’t met him or his sister before.

“Don’t you remember me, Y/N?”

You shook your head as an answer. Feeling quite worried for him, you wondered if you had lost your memories at some point. It would explain the hole you felt inside your mind.

But you remembered everything else: your parents, all the years with Wooyoung, your garden. Every moment had been captured into your memory bank, but Jongho was a complete stranger in front of you.

“I used to work for you. I-I had been stealing flowers from you but you suggested I’d start working in the garden to earn the flowers.”

“I think I’ve lost my memories at some point. I can’t recall ever talking to you,” you mumbled apologetically.

Tears started flowing down Jongho’s cheeks, and it looked like he wasn’t even trying to hold them back, “You taught me how to water flowers.”

You couldn’t resist a surprised chuckle, “You didn’t know how to do that before?”

“I also told you that you mean nothing to me... Just minutes after that, I had to call the ambulance,” he clenched tighter to the bouquet as he mumbled his revelation.

That made you silent. Maybe you had known that man after all, but you still couldn’t feel anything for him. No hard feelings, no love.

“Then I guess it’s fair now then. I mean nothing to you and you mean nothing to me.”

Your honest words hurt Jongho visibly, but he forced an understanding expression on his face.

He set the daisies on the nightstand next to your back-breaking hospital bed. Just looking at him made the emptiness grow. You didn’t doubt his words about the two of you knowing each other, but despite feeling bad for him, you sensed it would not be wise to reconnect with him.

Jongho disappeared behind the curtain, obviously going to his sister. Their whispers were not audible enough for you to hear what they were talking about, but it was clear his sister was frustrated.

You listened to them talk while trying to recollect memories of Jongho, of the times you supposedly knew him. But nothing came to mind. The more you tried to reach for the memories, the more it felt like the emptiness grew.

Later on, Wooyoung had come to visit you. His revelation made you finally understand why you had lost all of the memories regarding Jongho.

“You almost died, Y/N. Because of him,” Wooyoung held your hand a little too tight. It was clear he was trying to hide the turmoil deep inside of him, the fear of almost having lost you, “The doctors managed to save you with an emergency surgery.”

Although he had told you that you had been in love with Jongho, which had caused you to develop hanahaki, you couldn’t remember anything or hold any fond feelings nor hatred towards him. Jongho’s rejection had almost taken your life, so you understood now the hope and sadness his eyes had shown. He must have been feeling guilt.

Being in the hospital was not cheap but the cost of the surgery terrified you even more. Sure, you had gained money from selling the flowers, but it was not enough. You had to consider selling your cottage, to leave the house you had grown up in and the garden you had played in with Wooyoung since the age of five.

One morning there was an envelope slipped in through your mail slot.

Dear Y/N,

This is the least I can do for you, but the most I can do in this situation.

With best regards, Jongho.

In addition to the letter, there were about 20 bills of $100 inside the envelope. It was the most Jongho could do to help you in paying for the surgery, given the fact that he was short of money due to his sister’s illness. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover all expenses, but you felt gratitude towards him. He wouldn’t have had to pay for anything; after all, he hadn’t known about you having the hanahaki disease.

Eventually, the cottage was put on sale. You grimaced at the thought of someone buying it, making it their own, and possibly ruining the garden full of the memories of your childhood. It was the end of summer when you closed the front door of your home for the last time.

Some days you blamed Jongho for ruining your life in just a few months, but he hadn’t brought only destruction into your life; you and Wooyoung had grown closer to each other because of him. There was no need to even ask for Wooyoung to let you stay at his place before you’d find your new home. The moment he found out you were selling your house, he suggested you to move in – said he wouldn’t mind if you stayed your whole life there in his care. You had answered, laughing, “You can’t even take care of a houseplant. How are you going to take care of me?”

After that he had bought over 50 houseplants to prove your point wrong. Only one survived his tough love, but it was enough. After all, there was only one of you as well. You wouldn’t have wanted to compete for his attention with some plants anyways.

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sallowsarchives · 6 months ago

Text

War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror.

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can.

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin.

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.”

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.”

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance.

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate.

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident.

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last.

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.”

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony.

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!”

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte.

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side.

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor.

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with.

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow. “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back.

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness.

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny.

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable.

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence.

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets.

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you.

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement.

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?”

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur.

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise.

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.”

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below.

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion.

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations.

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him.

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point. “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you.

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks.

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.”

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?”

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness.

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss.

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality.

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony.

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze.

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed.

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over.

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings?

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say.

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration.

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded.

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt.

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

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pandalexoxo · 1 year ago

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since i’ve watched youtubers play dead plate, it’s been on constantly my mind 😻 i’ve literally searched up gacha reactions, fanfics, edits, etc, just because i’m starting to obsess over the game. not to mention how little attraction it’s gained?! where is the fan art, the fanfics, the loveeee?!? 😭 anywho! just a little blurb i keep imagining in my head!

this takes place after ending 3 so please, keep in mind that this will contain spoilers for the third ending! you’ve been warned!

(DEAD PLATE X READER)

With his left hand, Rody puts pressure on where his left ear had been before Vincent had ripped it off and eaten it. He pants softly, unable to tear his gaze away from the flames that engulf the bistro.

Rody is able to break contact when he sees a shoe in the corner of his right eye. Rody’s body tenses as he looks over at the shoe, allowing his gaze to slowly move up to take in the owner of the shoe. Black leather shoes that shine bright from the fire’s light, black slacks and a white long sleeve button up underneath a black vest adorned with a black tie. Rody’s eyes widen at the face.

The persons expression is full of worry, the figure holds their hands out as if wanting to comfort Rody but feeling as if they shouldn’t overstep boundaries in such a clearly traumatic time. the figure’s mouth opens, mouthing some illegible words. Rody hasn’t realized that all this time his ears had been ringing, his brain already trying to force this moment into the back of his head.

Rody’s eyes fill up with tears and he sniffles. The ringing slowly fades out as the voice slowly registers. “Rody! Hey, are you alright? Hey, deep breathes, you don’t have to tell me what happened, let’s- here, can i lead you to my car…?” Rody feels tears flow down his cheek and drip off his chin and Rody feels like he’s breaking as he wetly smiles. “…(M/n)…”

The man, finally known as (M/n), looks relieved as Rody seems to snap out of his previous delirious state. “Rody… Hey… Let’s step away and go to my car, yeah?” Rody nods but takes one step and falls forward. (M/n) panics, stepping a few paces forwards to catch Rody.

Rody’s eyes close and he whines, letting his tears fall and openly sob as he mourns. Mourning over the truth he has learned, that his girlfriend was killed and cooked up by his boss, being served to Rody though, due to his inability to cook, he had not eaten the dish, which Rody is now thankful for. Rody finds himself surprisingly mourning over Vincent too, just wishing to make some money to whoo Manon and wanting to try to become closer to Vince, maybe even become friends. It’s too late, what’s done is done.

(M/n) sighs softly, his expression softening as he holds Rody close. He allows Rody to get all of his feelings out, hoping his friend will be able to feel better. “Rody… I don’t know what happened and you don’t need to tell me until you’re ready, but… Please … I want you to know that i’ll be here with you, for you… All the way...”

Rody’s body continues to heave from the force of his sobs but ultimately seems to be calming down. Rody is reduced to sniffles and he clears his throat to speak. “All the way…? You promise…?” (M/n) hums, rubbing Rody’s back soothingly. “All the way. I promise.”

Rody nods, feeling content before pulling away with a sheepish look, as his stomach growl. He scratches the back of his neck nervously but (M/n) breaks into laughter, causing Rody to follow suit. “(M/n)… Could we get something to eat…?” (M/n) nods, able to pull both of them up and lead Rody to his car. “Of course, my treat.”

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months ago

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Worlds at War | Yandere Thor

The world as you’ve known it was on the crux of war. Your father and mother fought hard to support your older brothers who were intent on leading the kingdom's various armies. Though your father seemed fairly indifferent, he didn’t bother to hide his anger when you received your first injury.

“Never again.”

“But Dad!”

“Nope, you’re far too unprepared to be on the battlefield. Just let your brothers handle this.”

“Dad it was just a little scratch!”

“Please Adam, darling! (Y/n) just going to run away if you forbid them entirely!”

You doubt your father would have let you do even that but it convinced him to let you take on smaller tasks like leading the transportation of goods. Usually on an already conquered route, once again secured by your brother’s army.

On the day you met him, that was exactly what was happening. Following behind Lu Bu’s enthusiastic army you were sure this would be another uneventful mission. You’d be incredibly wrong.

Diverging from the usual plan, Lu Bu’s army had not cleared the route. Instead, they were still battling the enemy on the path. All too eagerly you directed your unarmed troops to run, retaining half of your army to aid. Being on the level of your brother, you easily tore through the enemy army. It was exhilarating. Like your brothers, you found the enjoyment in a fight but of course, it just wasn’t on your level.

No one on the battlefield was until you got to him. Hair flowing like the tail of a phoenix and eyes gleaming a yellow-green like the moon of a lunar eclipse. His hammer swung with power that could be spotted miles away. But what stood out most was the smile on his face. It matched the one on Lu Bu’s face when he made his last charge.

Despite the grief that threatened to clutch your heart you found yourself grateful. For if anyone knew of your brother’s burden it was you. While you may have been able to go toe to toe with him in theory your father once again would intervene; ordering you both not to take it any farther than light sparring. It only fueled your excitement.

You quickly ordered the remains of your brother's army to retreat or continue fighting along with your own, launching yourself off the back of your horse to immediately commence in battle with the silent giant.

“You’ve given my brother a glorious end, I’d love to do the same.”

He only grunted but his smile persisted.

For the next ten hours, this duel of yours would commence. Both of you smiling ear to ear as you both parried, blocked, and occasionally slashed at one another. An unspoken comradery was born when he fought your brother and the same could be said for you.

It only slowed when the sun began to rise and a hawk came with a warning cry. Breaking out of your trance you jumped away listening to the chirps of the birds–something your father taught you fervently. The message they sent was one of warning. The warning of a specific someone’s wrath.

“Rats, I have to go. He’ll chain me to a wall if I don’t.” You whistled for your horse who dutifully trotted to you. Before you snapped their reigns to return home, you turned your head.

“So what’s your name so that I can look forward to fighting you again?”

For the first time since the fight had begun he spoke.

“Thor.”

You smiled and bucked at your horse; yelling over your shoulder. “Then until next time Thor! I’ll beat you then!”

From then on the story of your love would begin. To the average person, it would seem bizarre that you’d both go from fighting for days to making out during an ambush. It was truly a marvel that heirs of warring kingdoms would find such comfort in one another but you two did. Against the warning of those who suspected, both of you ignored it for the euphoria you gained with each other.

“Thor, I’ve been thinking about what we’d do after this war.”

His eyes opened looking up at you, who was running your ungloved fingers through his hair. He took a moment to speak, admiring the small smile on your face.

“What will we do?”

You chuckled ducking low to share a kiss with the Norse warrior, lovingly trailing your hands from his crimson tresses to hold his chiseled chin. He, in turn, held your cheeks lightly running his thumbs over your cheeks.

“We’ll go live in a forest or a mountain, or maybe we’ll travel.”

He smiled at you nuzzling his head deeper into your stomach as though trying to close the distance between your bodies. Hugging him closely you let his hands trail further down as you spoke in whispers.

“Maybe we’ll have a family or a bunny. Though I wouldn’t want mjonirr to be left out.”

He hummed turning himself around hold you in his lap to trail his hand along your back and the hem of your scouting uniform, playfully toying with the small opening. Distracting you from your protests he nuzzles his nose against yours swallowing your moans with his own.

So encapsulated in each other it was beyond either of your thoughts that those who were suspicious now had finite proof of your allegiance to each other. It was true that no information had been betrayed or secrets shared but still an allegiance to the enemy would bring some concern.

________________________________________________

“From now on you’ll be put on the back side of our defensive front.”

“What?!”

“I no longer trust you on the front lines.”

“What why?!”

His usually indifferent cerulean eyes looked out the window to the east as though glaring at the one he’d been told of. His gaze softened when he looked into his child’s pained eyes forcing him to close his, he appreciated Eve’s grip on his hand.

“How can I trust you’ll come home if you're distracted?”

“....Dad I can explain–”

“I’m sure you can but I won’t be leaving my baby in the hands of an enemy warrior.”

Their head hung low before they ran out of the settlement. Adam could hear the confused shouts of the guards as he heard the swift gallops of his child’s horse. He knew they wouldn’t run too far because they knew he wouldn’t let them.

“Adam, my love how do we know he isn’t as equally in love with them? How can we be sure their love isn’t true?”

The father looked wistfully at the apple on his plate holding it up high before squishing his hand and turning it to mushy paste.

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

Meanwhile, Adam’s child was now running to the meeting point. The abandoned wasteland of unconquered territory had been the meeting place for the couple. By now vegetation had begun to grow over the remnants of a town caught in the crossfire. It provided just enough cover for a letter that (Y/n) would only hope Thor would receive in time.

Finishing up the remains of the letter when they saw the hulking shadow cast over them they thought it was Thor. So they didn’t protest when a large hand pulled them by their waist into a deep kiss. Faster than they could register they’d already slashed at the man’s cheek, immediately causing the man to flinch. He still held tight around their waist this time digging his nails spitefully into their sides.

“You think I wouldn’t know the taste of my lover? Loki.”

At the call of his true name, the face and figure began to morph revealing the adopted mage with a twisted expression.

“Well, it appears you do. My bad for underestimating you.”

“What do you want?!”

“So cruel. I only wanted to give my regards to the fallen hero.”

Already suspicious (Y/n) attempted to jump back fully drawing their weapon only for their arms and legs to buckle. Looking at the pinch of a syringe in their side, they glared at the giggling mage. Their vision went black as they saw the mage come in close.

With the last of their strength they called for the one they yearned for,” Thor.”

The mage chuckled with glee as he kicked the limp body below him. With ease, he lifted them turning to their sleeping face with a triumphant smirk.

“What should we do with the damsel hero then?”

_____________________________________________________

On the battlefield, Thor found he didn’t recognize the attack patterns at all. They weren’t familiar. He forged on finding that his troops were being brought down in record time. The pattern was incomprehensible. If he didn’t know any better he’d say whoever was leading was making a path right to—

“Found you.”

–him.

The punch he received was devastating. Knocking him through the waves of his armed troops and ground below; leaving him frantically standing in a crater. The owner of the attack wasted no time knocking him back before he could actively use Mjolnir, already pinning him down with a heavy foot on his chest.

“You and I need to talk.”.

Thor tried to lift the man’s foot off of him for that same foot to deliver a striking kick to Thor’s jaw. Shaking the initial shock to digs his boots into the ground, lifting himself to stand in his favored position with Mjolnir. Sensing the sentient hammer Adam jumped away, expertly dodging the weapon which happily returned to the hands of Thor.

Without hesitation both men commenced in a battle where neither held back, undeterred by the odd unspoken connection between them. Thor especially remained in the dark as he found certain attacks hitting harder when the blonde had a cold expression on his face; as though he was holding back. It only seemed to click when his trusted hammer seemed to trill when his opponent successfully caught him. It was so apparent it caused the warrior to pause.

“Who are you?”

It was obvious he was the enemy king…which would mean:

“(Y/n)’s father.”

The immense shame that came over him was devastating. They were no longer fighting but it worried him that he hadn’t recognized the similarities before. It was silly that he hadn’t noticed how MjonIner was behaving the way it did when fighting his beloved.

“Don’t get cold feet. I’m proving your worth.”

Similar to his battles before he found it dragging on, but unlike his battles with his love he was filled with the nervousness of a groom. The battle only slowed when Adam pulled away standing with a bored expression as he looked at the dwindling armies.

“Fine. I guess I’ll admit you are strong.”

Thor didn’t relax his stance. The animosity teeming off Adam wasn't ceasing.

“If you wish to leave them with your life this is your chance.”

“Excuse me?’

Adam put an indignant hand on his waist.

“If you want to leave them. Now’s the time. I’ll release you back to your army, and (Y/n) will never see you again. You can avoid the drama, the accusations, just agree to leave them.”

The tension between the two was palpable. A withstanding obstacle that kept their armies far away.

“I’m not leaving (Y/n).”

Adam scoffed,” So you say.”

“I promise it. I’ll abandon my duties to be with (Y/n). I’ll leave all of that behind. I’ll kill anyone who stops me.”

Their silence returns. The kind that came before a great storm.

“....”

“...Good. I’d want nothing less.”

Or a great agreement.

Adam was quick to demand Thor leave immediately. He had an inkling something had happened and that was all Thor needed. Before he took MjonIr he bowed his head, darting in the direction of Adam’s army. More accurately past them at speeds rivaling their horses.

“That boy better better protect them.” Adam turned his disinterested gaze at the remaining army.

“So who’s dying first.”

__________________________________________________________

When the Norse warrior first laid eyes on his beloved, he knew he’d never forget them. The warmth overtook his already aching body when they called to him. Or the way MjonIr trembled when they withstood its electric blast.

It was perfection incarnate.

Even better, their affection was like air. Thor found his mind wandering to them when his army was desperately calling out to him. Or when he faced a barely equal opponent he could hardly refrain from thinking of their arms, their praise.

This is why he immediately aimed to slice off Loki’s arm at the prospect of his love being unsafe.

“I-I-I was only trying to do what was best for our k-k-kingdom!”

His lies were of no comfort encouraging Thor to raise his hammer and begin to swing down.

“WAIT! Wait! I know where they are b-but you have to be calm!”

“Speak or I’m going to kill you.”

“R-r-right! Well—”

Loki told of a defective group on the enemy’s side that seemed to worship him. In their various interpretations of his vague orders, they required a sacrifice chosen by him. It was a passing punishment. One he wasn’t sure if it’d kill the ‘hero’ or not. Admitting to his weakening of the fighter he suspected that within a few hours, they’d ritually burn the incapacitated hero.

Thor could barely keep still when he was told. He graciously sliced the adopted mage’s arm instead of killing him. He marched out of the ruins determinedly; he had to save his beloved before it was too late.

______________________________

Waking to the muffled sounds of chanting and fire roaring was never a good sign. The humid enclosure of a woven bag around your head made it hard to breathe. Closing your eyes was a better option than the odd passing of light within the small holes.

It didn’t help that you could feel your body weighing heavy, a constant reminder of the drug-induced sleep you endured. The unfamiliarity that comes with your forceful sleep. The burn of new cuts kept the feeling fresh, feeling them littered all over your body. It didn’t make it better when you realized there was the chilled coolness of something wet.

No doubt your blood.

The cacophony of different voices rang out, eventually joining together to chant a name that left you like this.

“Loki! Loki! Loki!”

Feeling yourself being laid down you could recognize the biting knot around your wrists and feet being reinforced. Getting small touches of your bound hands you could feel wood, curved into a pole. From there you could guess the fate these people had in store.

As you were made to stand up straight on a pile of wood, you naturally thought about your plans to escape. The poison you’d been given might have put a wrench in your usual plans. Which would just be you easily kicking those handling you and snapping at your binds.

But you couldn’t do that.

Hearing the chants get louder you figured that your best bet would be to run the second you felt the rope and subsequently your body catch fire. Doubting you’d come out of this unphased, you prepared yourself for the searing pain to be. Minor burns when cooking would be only a small taste of what you planned to survive. You were sure you could.

You only wondered if Thor could love you charred.

Speaking of him, you were sure you could hear the beating of Mjonir…or was that you’re own heartbeat? It couldn’t be because you could feel your heart speed up as you realized the hammer was actually here.

The joyous rambling of the crowd became a hoard of gasps and questions. It desperately had you wishing someone would lift the bag from your head. Alas, you could only garner Thor’s entrance from the crowd’s reactions. While it was surprising it’d be expected, rarely do others after seeing Thor, believe they can attack him to any degree. For as comforting as you’d find him, his hulking size, giant hammer, and stoic expression make him intimidating long before the fight begins.

You expected a few war cries before the slam of their deaths. Then a scream would ring out and all would disperse in a panicked flurry.

Except that’s not what happened.

You felt the warbling heat of a fire being ignited at your feet. In seconds, there was a gust of wind that killed the slowly increasing warmth. The previously hushed crowd began to devolve into screaming. You could feel what remained of your clothes to warp and pull in the direction of the wind.

Along with slicing, there were crackles of thunder and the furious thrum of MjonIr. Hearing the wet sounds of blood splattering and the thumps of flesh falling to the ground. The smell of iron filled your nose and the screams continued to ring out.

For people as touched in their minds as they were, you felt pity for them. Hoping to quell your love’s anger you called for him or you tried. The pain in your throat was something you’d never felt before. Feeling as though a thousand pins were stabbing you from within. When you did muster the strength of your voice, the screams had stopped and the wood around you was crunching under a boot.

Hearing the rope around you snap and unravel you let your hands naturally reach for the chiseled face of Thor. Already looking in his direction as you felt the bag on your head pull away. It is then you feel the cool and sticky coating on your lover’s face along with with the desperate look in his eyes. Wide and distraught, his eyes looked as though you’d be gone any second now. His arms wrapped around you expressing the same sentiment. You held onto him just as tightly bringing your lips closer to his, happy at the reunion alone.

Entwining your fingers in his vermillion locks, you pressed your forehead into his. Filling your vision you were surprised to have him draw you into his body once again, hungrily biting at your lips.

The love of your life was insatiable as always even among the corpses of your people.

He is your world.

And it will forever be comforting to know he’d do anything to keep it that way.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere record of ragnarok #yandere ror #yandere record of ragnarok x reader #yandere ror x reader #yandere thor x reader #yandere record of ragnarok thor x reader #yandere ror thor x reader #yandere writing #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere male x reader

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5-puthyyy · 2 months ago

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The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 2

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It’s hard to know how long you have been following them but with how deep you have gone into the woods it feels as if you are countries away from your Inn. The Sun is still down and the Moon still up, the two gazing at each other as they pass with pure longing but never being able to touch. You follow carefully, not having them in your sight but still finding them with your string of light.

Once you catch sight of a cabin, the light leading past the door, you keep yourself hidden behind a large tree. It’s incredibly strong here, the pull of Magick. You’re shocked no other witch has found this place yet, or tried to at the very least.

It’s a spacious build, likely two stories from the windows you can count, maybe even a basement. The wood seems new, with barely a scratch on it. Beds of flowers are arranged all around, but there are far too many for you to be able to really focus on anything else. You feel drawn enough to them to risk walking towards the cabin just to get a closer glimpse. White magnolia, pink lotus, and marigolds so vivid you can see their colour shining at this hour. But it’s the purple azaleas you find yourself unable to take your eyes off, giving in to the urge to touch a petal, eye fluttering at how soft it feels against your fingertips.

Somehow, you can feel Magick in those very petals calling out to you. Before you have the opportunity to give yourself a scandalous taste of that Magick, a throat clears from your side, startling you into a jump.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Unless I wanted to die. Which I do, sometimes.”

Your eyes lock to the brown-eyed woman standing on the porch by the open door of her cabin. That easy smirk is still on her lips and you can’t help but gaze at them for a moment too long – which she notices, given that her smirk widens even more.

Your lips move in a stutter, unable to say a word of apology despite it sitting at the tip of your tongue. She says nothing as she watches you struggle to come up with an excuse. The woman leans against the ledge of the open door, smirking with wide brown eyes that glimmer in entertainment.

“Oh, I–I cannot believe I did–I am so–I can only offer my apologies for my behaviour, miss, I do not know what possessed me to–”

A soft sigh catches your ears and she emerges from the shadows, through the open door. “You’re frightening the poor girl, my love,” the blue-eyed woman says, voice as smooth and silky as honey as she smiles wickedly.

You’re entranced as you watch her descend the steps slowly, her long, delicate fingers leaving a ghost of a touch on the wooden barrier of the steps. The white nightdress she has on flows with the light breeze, demanding the attention of your eyes that gaze over the intricate lace patterns at its hem. When she reaches the very ground you’re stepping on, she stays there, observing just like her partner with a calculated gleam in those shining blue eyes.

“Frightening?” The other woman speaks up, scoffing as she stomps down the steps, lacking the grace her partner carries. She stands a step in front of her, almost protectively as she crosses her arms, “You are far too trusting,” she grumbles, taking another step further to get closer to you, “She could be here to kill us,” she approaches, circling you like you’re prey, “or worse. She could be here to steal our Magick.”

The penny drops. It’s the confirmation you needed that it wasn’t just in your head, that your skills perhaps aren’t as rusty as you thought. They are witches, they do possess Magick and clearly an extreme amount of it. But you’re not here to steal it. No, you wouldn’t want to, you’re not a witch-killer, you’re the complete opposite of that.

“Train me.”

The words leave your lips before you can even comprehend what you are saying. Both their brows raise high in response, turning to look at each other with amusement.

“Train you? For what, exactly?” The brown-eyed witch asks, curiosity twinged along with the defensiveness in her tone.

Trailing your fingertips along the petals of the flowers, you force yourself to break eye contact to really think about your answer. You know what they’re likely expecting. Train you for power, for control, for revenge. The answers are endless, but that is not what you want. Every witch seeks the highest of powers but you never asked for this. There’s a lot you wanted in your past, but your coven’s banishments forced your wants to be pushed back; everything you’ve known since then has been about what you need. With that in mind, you clear your throat and finally look back up.

“Survival.”

The storm in those blue eyes clears as she takes you in. Your demeanor is nowhere near threatening and you’re aware that you have become somewhat of a shell of yourself. You have forgotten yourself and what makes you happy. The simple use of Magick in your daily life is something you miss, the act itself being too risky. You could not risk exposure.

Seemingly coming to a decision, she turns on her heel and climbs back up the steps, commanding authority in every step. Her partner sighs in defeat, gesturing with her head to you to follow them inside. You look behind you before you do so, remembering the Inn, the regulars, the little community you quickly became a part of. It was safe. You had to hide who you really were, but it was safe.

If life really was about survival, you’d turn and march to your little bedroom, never looking back here again. But you think about the power those two hold, the way the blue-eyed witch looked at you with something akin to a motherly gaze. It could be a trap. They could attack you and take your power the moment you step into their territory. But something inside you is telling you to trust them, just as they have trusted you by letting you in.

You look at the open door again, seeing nothing inside but darkness. Sucking in a deep breath, you take a step forward.

“Good morning, little dove, it’s time to wake up,” the soft voice rouses you from your slumber, a tender touch from a finger brushing over your temple soothing the frustrating blow of being woken up from such a deep sleep. You can’t remember the last time you slept this way, slept this long, slept with no fear of the sound of a group of angry men breaking through your door with pitchforks and fingered accusations.

“Mmm, no, five more minut–” your grumbling sentence is cut short by fingers trailing to your nest of hair, suddenly gripping, pulling, forcing a raspy gasp from the depths of your throat. Your eyes snap open to meet the powerful, controlled gaze of blues darkened by blown-out pupils.

“What was that?” she asks, her tone screaming I dare you to disobey me again. You don’t. Immediately sitting up, you mumble an apology but quickly pull the covers back up your chest, realising your extremely thin nightgown has exposed the hardened buds on your chest. It’s just the cold, you say to yourself, ignoring the flush on your cheeks that says otherwise, “Good. Ready yourself and come out for breakfast.”

There’s no room for debate as she swiftly gets up from the bed, her purple and black long dress waving at you as she walks out of the room shutting the door with a silent thud. You’re once again left alone with your thoughts, letting the covers drop with a sigh. What are you doing with your life? Does it mean this little to you for you to risk it like this?

It takes another minute of regret before you stand up and make your way to the washstand in the corner of your room. You trail your fingertips over the water filled to the brim of that deep bowl, dipping them in and sighing as the warmth of it slowly relaxes you. This will be fine. They let you in, they gave you a room, and they’re making you breakfast at this moment. It’s difficult for you to trust people but you have to try, at the very least.

Once your face is washed, hair neatened, and clothed appropriately, you silently make your way out. The bashfulness in your walk is clear to the pair standing by the small dining table clearly made for four people at the max. There are three bowls of milk porridge and a selection of fruits you’ve never had the pleasure of tasting yet. It’s clear they grow their own crops, and they’re well versed in it considering how lovely their garden looked last night.

“Sit,” the brown-eyed witch commands, taking her own seat as she says so. She sits with her legs spread, dressed in long black pants and a white shirt, a few buttons lazily left open. You cannot keep your eyes off of her, staring for a moment too long at the open cleavage, but you’re snapped out of it by a click of angry fingers.

“She gave you a command. Have you not learnt your lesson?” the blue-eyed witch states, eyes narrowed as she refers to waking you up.

Not wanting to risk another ‘lesson’, you promptly sit down, a blush tainting your cheeks. They both smirk at that, seemingly enjoying the humiliation.

“Eat, and then we will talk,” the blue-eyed witch states and you don’t fail to listen to her words this time, immediately grabbing the spoon set on the side. A few minutes later, you sit back in your chair, happily full and hydrated, sipping the last couple of drops of water left in your cup.

“I take it you enjoyed the fruit?” the brown-eyed woman states, glee in her eyes as you nod, “I have fruit trees in the back. Would you like to see?”

“Not now, Rio.”

“Rio,” you repeat the moment you hear the blue-eyed witch say it, “Is that your name?” It’s an unusual one, definitely uncommon especially in this part of the world.

“And you thought I would be the one to mess up your plans, Agatha,” Rio cackles as Agatha glares at her.

Agatha shrugs it off, switching back to her composed self easily. “Right, well,” she turns to you, “We were going to make you earn our trust before revealing our identities, but I suppose you have been good for us so far, haven’t you?”

The way she says it, her words almost honeyed, hits you right at your core. You shift uncomfortably, unable to speak a word. You can only nod in response, finding it hard to maintain eye contact as she smiles at you knowingly. There’s something cruel yet enticing about her; the way she balances her authority and power with the right amount of sweetness and tenderness…it’s dangerous, and worrying, but you can’t help being intrigued.

“My name is Y/N,” You suddenly spit out, realising that you need to give trust to earn it. Agatha hums in approval and you take that as a sign to continue, “I was banished from my coven by my…by my mother, for my, uh–She claimed I was unable to tame my desires.”

It’s a difficult subject for you to speak on, especially now that you realise you’ve never spoken about it since it happened. You kept it locked inside of you, buried as it festered into a chaotic mess of hurt. But Agatha and Rio’s eyes flash with a look of understanding, and something softer beneath it, and you feel…you feel safe.

“Ah. You come from those types of witches,” Agatha observes, muttering more to herself than to you. Rio clearly sees a conflict of some kind, resting her hand atop Agatha’s on the table, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Those eyes disappear as they flutter shut, taking Rio’s comforting words in before nodding and opening them again.

“I thought…Well, no, I know life is about survival. How else would you get to the end of the road? You must survive and put yourself above all. That’s what I have been doing since my banishment. But I have come to realise that I want…more.”

Rio tilts her head, “More?”

You nod, sighing deeply as she watches you curiously. “Acceptance. Freedom. I want to be who I am, unapologetically.”

It seems those were the exact right words to say as Agatha sucks in a sharp breath, fingers turning white as she grips the edge of the table. Her eyes flutter for a moment before she composes herself.

“We will teach you, little dove, so long as you listen. That is our only condition.”

With that, you nod in acceptance, already awaiting your next instruction. Agatha and Rio turn to each other smiling at your obedience, ignoring your presence for a moment of indulgence. They lean in slowly, their noses brushing together before their lips meet in a tender kiss. You swallow the ball that has suddenly grown in your throat as you watch them kiss, forcing yourself to look away when you spot the swipe of a demanding tongue and hear a surrendering sigh. It’s another moment of you listening to the sounds of their kisses with a bright red flush across your chest, neck, and cheeks, before Agatha sighs, breaking it up for your sake.

“Go on, my love. Show her your garden.”

masterlist + guidelines

hope you guys enjoy this one!

#agatha all along #agathario x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader

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whenlostinthedarkness · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2 | Part Two: Silk Chiffon

Lead Singer!Reader x Lead Guitarist!Ellie Williams

Summary: A smoke session in the hotel leads Reader & Ellie into a conversation about the past that affect their future.

Warnings: Sexual Content(f/f fingering, oral, and dry humping), and Infidelity.

WC: 5k

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading this series so far & for the positive feedback 💜 Enjoy

Series Masterlist

"Do you ever think about us?”

Ellie's words echoed in your head like a prayer sung in a cathedral. Over and over and over.

“I uhm-I mean..”, you couldn't help but stutter.

Meanwhile, Ellie stifled a laugh as her eyes remained on the ceiling and her mind reveled in the amusing way you were reacting to her question. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

Your pupils searched around the room as your hand came up to scratch against your bare arm. You needed something to tame the anxiety running marathons inside of you and your surroundings were the only thing you could use as a tool to calm it.

“I think about us.” Ellie said it so casually, you had to question if what you heard was real or a hallucination.

“What?”

Ellie's chin lowered, her eyes following along with the movement until they rested on you. “I think about us.”

She shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, when in reality, what she was confessing to was something so thoroughly massive in your brain.

“In what way?”

Ellie’s eyes left yours as the confidence seemed to drain from her once sharp facial expression as she shrugged her shoulders. Suddenly, she grew shy at the thought of talking about your relationship together and how it still runs through her mind on a near daily basis.

The temperature seemed to rise in the hotel room even though a soft breeze was flowing freely through the window. Without a word, you turned to walk the short distance back to the couch and took a seat in the same spot you once occupied before; Ellie followed shortly after.

The strain in the room was severely obvious.

You presumed the only reason Ellie had asked a question like this or brought up this sort of conversation all together, was due to the fact that she was clearly very high and spaced out. Which, you weren't wrong about.

Ellie was indeed very high and sunken down deep in her mind as she dared to travel to the one set of memories that were usually barred with yellow caution tape. The memories always appeared so enticing and leaving her wanting to visit the scene of the crime again..but never being able to push herself fully over that barrier to engage with them.

Now, it was different. She was high, you were high, and a shared hotel room was proving to be a nudge in Ellie's rib as she became consumed with thoughts about something else. Someone else.

It was suddenly like you were a hyper fixation of hers that she was bursting at the seems to talk about, yet, she held it in. Instead, opting to keep quiet and let her thoughts be silent or get distracted by something else that wasn’t her life. Yeah - that's what she needed, a distraction.

“You still wanna watch that movie?” Ellie’s voice was so fucking soft yet at the same time very hoarse, it almost made you melt right then and there into the couch.

“Yeah,” you gulped, “anything in mind?”

“How about….”

Your finger aimlessly flipped through all of the options on the screen as Ellie scanned each of the selections until she found the winner.

“But I’m A Cheerleader- that one!”

You shook your head with an amused smile, "Typical".

“What?” Ellie's smile returned to her face as the room relaxed for the first time in several minutes.

“You’re just so predictable- that’s it”, you said playfully while shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s my favorite fucking movie. You should already know I’m biased to it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” you waved Ellie off as your thumb clicked a button on the remote that started the films opening scene to display on the large flat screen tv.

In her best efforts to fight off the chill in her body, Ellie grabbed the blanket she had packed along with her and spread it along the lower half of her body as she allowed herself to relax into the cushions.

“How old were you when you saw this for the first time?” You wondered as your eyes watched the cheerleaders twirling high up in the air as the camera panned to an up-skirt view.

“Too young.”

“Like how young?”

Ellie shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe like ten..eleven. Something like that.”

You nodded with wide eyes. “Damn, ten?”

Ellie chuckled at the disbelief in your voice. “Yep. One could say it was my gay awakening.”

“What about Princess Jasmine?”

“She’s different. She’s an angel and can do no wrong.”

A thunderous laugh left your lips which instantly made you slap a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

“Plus, I was too young to understand I wanted to fuck Princess Jasmine so she doesn't count as my gay awakening.”

Ellie enjoyed your laugh, enjoyed it that much more when she was the one inducing it. It’s like she got a shot of pride directly injected into her veins whenever she could sprinkle a moment of joy or humor or any other emotion that made you feel good. She wanted to make you feel good always and would if you let her.

It's comical in a way. When Ellie was 19, it was as if she had to keep trying to convince herself that she didn't care about you nearly as much as she knew, deep down, she did. In fact, it was as if she was fucking up on a near consistent basis purely just to keep up the act that she was only caring about herself. If the act was more for you and the public, or herself, she wasn't sure. It only became more difficult for Ellie to keep up with this act the further and further you both got into your relationship.

When things were going really well between you both back in your college days, fuck, was it good. On the other hand, when things weren't going well, usually because of something Ellie did, they really weren't going well. It was almost like the good moments were a spotlight shedding on what could’ve been if you and Ellie both had been just a little bit older and more matured and established in yourselves. Sort of like how you both were now.

Yours & Ellie's conversation tapered off naturally as the both of you started watching the movie. Not that Ellie was having much luck in concentrating on the film.

You, on the other hand, were fully entranced on the current scene where the main characters, Megan & Graham, sneak off to have sex for the first time.

The film made it exceptionally pretty. The soft pink tones, the gentle touches, the intimate eye contact between the characters- it truly set the mood for what your first intimate experience with another girl felt like.

Your gaze was too concentrated on taking in all of the details in the movie, that your sober mind had never bothered to notice, that you missed the heavy gaze Ellie held on you as she moved her body slightly. Now, she was seated on the couch, but her body was twisted so she was facing directly towards you with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Eventually you caught on to Ellie's stare, nearly catching you off guard when your eyes met.

"You okay?"

Ellie didn't answer verbally, just opted for a nod as her mind was deep in thought. You mimicked her nod of the head and returned your eyes back to the movie while trying your best to ignore the heat from Ellie's eyes that you could feel were still concentrated on you.

"I miss you."

Your eyes returned to where they were moments ago as you looked into Ellie's green eyes. "We see each other like everyday Ellie."

Ellie nodded, "Yeah, but not like this. I feel like we are walking on eggshells together most of the time and now it just feels..I don't know. Natural. Like old times".

You knew exactly what Ellie meant. She was talking about how things were when you were dating, but now you were far from that and hadn't been even close to that for a couple years.

"I mean..things are different now."

"But why?”

You matched Ellie's position as you twisted your body to face hers. "What do you mean why Ellie. You know why."

Ellie knew you were right, yet there was some part of her that wished things between you both would've gone back to normal after your breakup. Surely wishing something like that was foolish, yet Ellie lived to be the fool.

"I just miss you."

"What things do you miss?" You asked genuinely as the movie now became background noise to the first conversation the both of you had really ever had regarding your past relationship.

Ellie's brain immediately went through film clip memories in her mind of all of your good times together. The late night escapades, the movie nights, the jam sessions, even the sex. It was all something that felt right and natural. Ellie missed all of that, and tonight was feeding a hunger for that feeling she wanted to have again with you. She didn't want it to stop.

"Shit like this..," Ellie shrugged, "..watching a movie, smoking weed, cuddling on the couch.."

Ellie's voice trailed off on the last part as if she were ashamed, which, in some ways she was. However the need for this feeling with you was outweighing any guilt that she could be feeling right now.

"The cuddling huh?", you teased with a warm smile. "Do you think that's a good idea? Cuddling?"

The answer was clear. You knew it, Ellie knew it, yet the both of your bodies somehow began to scoot closer and closer to one another.

"What's so wrong with cuddling?" Ellie asked with innocence which made you roll your eyes.

"I think you know why we can't cuddle Ellie."

By the time you finished your sentence, you and Ellie had hunched backs as you both naturally leaned in towards each other like metal to a magnet.

A heavy sigh fell from Ellie’s lips as she fought a battle within herself that she didn’t know the outcome of. That hunger, that want, that nostalgic feeling coming back was making her want to take in spoonful after spoonful of you and this feeling. On the other hand, she knew it was bad to even entertain such a concept.

She had a loving girlfriend at home that was great in every way possible, but why didn’t she make Ellie feel like this? She kept asking herself this question over and over. Until she couldn’t take it anymore. The two choices sit like two different entrees on fine china. Ellie’s mind kept going from one to the other, trying to decipher if she wanted normalcy or if she wanted you.

“Fuck it.”

A breath gasped out of your mouth and vibrated against Ellie’s lips as she held them against yours like her life depended on it.

Your first thought was shock, but relief soon chased it as you found yourself melting into the tender kiss.

One of Ellie’s hands went up to cup the side of your face as your mouths continued moving slowly against one another’s. It felt so sweetly familiar.

For a second, you were nineteen again and kissing your college roommate for the very first time. The pent up tension and feelings were coming to fruition and that similar sense of relief that you felt when you were 19 was present in this very room as Ellie cradled you in her arms with a grip that held a fear of you trying to leave.

What Ellie didn’t know is that you too had an appetite for this sorta of feeling and you weren’t planning on cutting it off anytime soon. At least not tonight.

Ellie's girlfriend wasn't a thought in your mind or hers as you instinctually moved into Ellie's lap to straddle her waist. Both of your lips moved fervently against the other as tongues collided and saliva coated both your mouths like a shiny clear gloss.

Everything felt second nature and habitual. The way one of Ellie's hands gripped your waist tightly as she pulled you as close to her chest as possible, and the other rested at the swell of your ass. Natural.

The way one of your hands cupped the side of Ellie's face as you ground your hips down towards her; so fucking natural.

Ellie let out a groan at the friction as she tried to pull you tighter to her body, even if it was impossible for you both to get any closer. Her strong grip on your hips was enough to have you mewling into her mouth which only made Ellie feel more starved and deprived of your alluring noises, the warmth of your skin, and the way your mouth fit against hers like the missing puzzle piece that had been brushed under the couch for ages. It was a sensory overload that you both had missed and craved, yet suppressed time and time again - and for what reason?

At this very moment, everything else was quiet and nonexistent. All that was in both of your worlds right now was two past lovers who desperately needed one another.

Ellie allowed you to gently push her to fall backwards so her back rested on the couch as she gazed up at you sitting on top of her.

The quiet and stillness suddenly made everything stop. The eye of the tornado had passed and now it was stillness- A calm just after a storm that caused a kind of damage that could destroy towns.

Ellie mimicked your heaving chest and wide eyed gaze as you stared down at her and she stared up at you. Images of her girlfriend were now flickering through her mind, yet her hands never even thought about straying away from your hips.

As much as this moment was a moral battle for Ellie, there was also a sense of comfort in the familiarity that was your legs resting on either side of her.

Silently, your eyes made a treaty with one another that spoke of consent and allowing whatever happens, to happen but that didn't make you any less hesitant. You had nothing to lose, but Ellie had an entire relationship to lose.

You both could stop the betrayal with just a kiss - you both should stop the betrayal with just a kiss.

Yet still, Ellie nodded as she sensed your hesitancy. She wanted you to know that she knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling and still she wanted this so incredibly bad. Who were you to deny that you wanted the same exact thing when it was consenting right in front of you?

You couldn't nod any quicker and Ellie couldn't move any slower as her hands squeezed your hips in a nearly feral manor. This made you smile and feel a sense of shyness as Ellie looked at you as if you were the Mona Lisa in the flesh.

Gently, Ellie's hips rose up off of the couch to collide with your center, making you bite your lip as you brought both of your palms to rest on top of Ellie's stomach.

Your eyes remained fixed on her as you bent the upper half of your body downwards towards Ellie; your hands sliding all the way up to her shoulders as you did so.

You were now hovering directly above her like a mobile above a babies crib. Ellie's tongue wet her lips as she looked at you as if you were a meal she had been starved of for years, which you had been, but all by choice.

In a challenging nature, you ground your hips down onto Ellie's. Her eyes squinted harshly at the interaction as she slid her hands down so she could unashamedly knead your ass.

Your faces were so close together that both of your breaths were hitting the other with a vapor of warmth that was charged with anticipation and excitement. Ellie was finding it all torturous.

"Please."

Her voice was so quiet it was nearly drowned out due to the audio from the movie, but your focus was on her and only her. You heard her perfectly clear.

"Please what?" You questioned knowing damn well you speaking would lightly brush your lips against Ellie's as you remained hovering above her.

Ellie let out a groan paired with a rolling pair of eyes as she squeezed your ass harder in the hopes that would get her message across...but she should know you better.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to use your words El."

You wore a near devious smile as you turned your face to the side, allowing your mouth to graze along the skin of her freckled cheeks and travel downwards towards her neck.

The tingling feeling made Ellie shiver the closer you got to that euphoric spot just below her ear and when your lips did finally meet that thin layer of skin, you paused entirely, making Ellie huff out of frustration and neediness. You found it all very amusing as your lips continued ghosting along.

“Are you not having fun?”

All Ellie could manage to do was sigh loudly which seemed to spur you on even more.

“Awe you don’t seem like you’re having fun.” You sealed your sentence with a severely light peck to her neck in the exact place she wanted, making Ellie’s hands squeeze your ass again as her eyes began to close. “Then again, maybe you are.”

“Shut up.”

Suddenly, Ellie sat up, forcing your body to sit up along with hers. She wrapped one of her arms around your waist and firmly held you against her as she swapped your position with hers. Now, Ellie was above you and moving quickly to take off her hoodie.

You laid in awe as you took in the view before you. Ellie in a white tank top with messy hair that was stuck up in multiple places, yet the image was as close to the past as it could get in your mind. Except now it was fast forwarded a couple years- Ellie’s facial bone structure was more pronounced, her upper body was more lean and muscular, and her eyes had dark gray underneath them from exhaustion, yet you felt like it complimented the green in the nicest way.

Once again, silence consumed the room, even as Ellie lowered herself downwards and kissed you without warning-not that you needed one.

From here, the race began.

In contrast to earlier, both of your locked lips were desperate and chasing one another. Saliva began dripping along the sides of Ellie’s mouth as she left open mouthed, gasp filled kisses that only separated when she desperately needed to have your bare skin touching hers.

Quickly, Ellie moved to rest inbetween your legs before her fingers found the hem of your flimsy t-shirt. The further the material moved upwards, the more present the urgency was as you assisted Ellie in lifting the material the remainder of the way up until you were tossing it on the floor.

You swore you saw Ellie’s eyes pop out of her head when your bare chest was on full display for her to indulge herself in shamelessly-and shamelessly she did.

A guttural noise came straight from her chest as Ellie’s hands moved to squeeze your tits together, making you lull your head to the side out of sheer pleasure.

“Ellie,” you whined, making that same noise slip off of Ellie’s tongue as she moved her face and began furiously kissing along your collarbones.

Her tongue glided along your skin, leaving trails of wetness in her path, until she got to the place her mouth had been watering for.

Your nipple felt velvety against her tongue as she lapped it up using various circular movements. This feeling used to be a phantom, but now it was in the flesh and she couldn’t believe she had been depriving herself of the delicacy that was you for all these years.

Your fingers twirled the hairs that sat along the back of Ellie’s neck, occasionally pulling them whenever she hit a particularly heavenly spot. Ellie gently grazed her teeth along your nipple while her other hand stayed firmly placed on your ribcage- half in order to keep her own balance, the other half just so she had an excuse to be touching you with every limb that she had.

Ellie began sucking on your nipple and you couldn’t help but arch your back off of the couch, naturally making yours and Ellie’s centers grind against one another. Clearly Ellie was enjoying the friction-and so were you-as she continued sucking even more harshly on your nipple, just the way she remembered you liking it.

By now, you were dripping wet as the currents of pleasure, from the friction and Ellie’s mouth, had you rocking your hips against Ellie as you searched for any sort of abrasion in order to ease the pressure that was weighing heavy on your clit.

“Take this off, you spoke through heavy breaths as your hands moved to the back of Ellie’s shirt. You were tempted to just start taking it off yourself, but you were still hesitant in whatever was happening between the both of you and the only thing that was reassuring you it was okay was Ellie giving her consent.

Ellie swiftly moved upwards and discarded her shirt so it met yours on the floor-a silent consent. Now, the both of you were matching with bare chests exposed to one another.

The moment Ellie moved back down to kiss you again, both of your bodies began sinking up in a rhythm that was getting both of you equally worked up. Ellie’s hand moved to your thigh and lifted your leg up to her hip as she ground her hips down against yours again, but this time with much more access and ability to move against one another with an added pressure.

While the both of you continued fucking with clothes on, Ellie’s hand had managed to slink in between both of you. Her fingertips pressed firmly against your clothed center, feeling the slightest bit of wetness that she was hoping she would find seeping through the thin cotton of your sleep pants.

In unison, you both made a noise of pleasure as Ellie continued rubbing along your clothed core, until you gave her bicep a squeeze.

Ellie released the suction of her lips against yours and peered down at you with a cautious facial expression. “You okay?”

You smiled slightly at the worried expression on Ellie’s face and nodded. “Yeah, I'm good. Really good.”

Ellie’s eyebrows relaxed from their tense state, yet she was still confused. “Are you sure this is okay?”

You shrugged as your eyes averted from Ellie’s worried look. “I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself, not me.”

There was that reminder again about how wrong this situation was, but how could something that’s so wrong feel so incredibly right to Ellie?

Silently, Ellie’s mouth moved to your neck as her hands went to rest along either side of your body. “The only thing I'm thinking about right now is how you taste.”

Her lips left a long kiss to your neck as your eyes nearly rolled to the very back of your head as she did so. “Take off my pants then.”Ellie snickered at your confidence as she obeyed your command.

She maneuvered her body so she was sitting back on her knees-her hands were quick to reach the top of your pajama pants and shed your lower half of it’s top layer.

“God damn,” Ellie sighed words that were meant to be internal, but at the sight of the dark spot that was gathering in the center of your panties, she just couldn’t help herself.

As much as she wanted to enjoy this moment and take her time, Ellie also couldn’t fight off her primitive urge to have your cunt on her mouth.

Swiftly, Ellie’s thumbs hooked on the sides of your panties; you raised your hips upwards to assist her in fully discarding the material off of your legs.

The natural scent of your pussy filled Ellie’s nostrils as she felt her heart start to speed up. Her hands were quick in moving to wrap around your thighs as she settled her face so that it was just above your warm and visibly wet center.

Ellie started off with slow kisses to your inner thighs and lower stomach,trying once again to take her time, until she physically couldn’t take it anymore.

Her teeth sunk into your thigh, making one of your hands raise up to rest on the back of her head and your crotch raise up to move along Ellie’s face.

Ellie’s tongue moved along her lips-the faintest taste of your wetness hitting Ellie’s taste buds for the first time in years. She was desperate now.

Her face moved down, pressing a long lick to your center and allowing you and her to both have some relief from the built up tension. She found herself humming in satisfaction as her tongue peaked out to gently lay flat along your dripping clit, causing you to jerk your body upwards from the sensitivity that was already very prominent. Ellie bared her teeth in a grin before she went back for more.

Ellie’s tongue made out with your cunt as she gave you the sloppiest, messiest head of her life. Your wetness mixed with her saliva as it dripped down her chin while she licked up your center faster and faster with each lick.

Your hand squeezed her brown locks as Ellie wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking it with all the pressure she could muster up before popping it out of her mouth.

Her eyes would briefly glance up at you to watch your every facial expression and bodily reaction to make sure she was hitting every spot that once drove you wild; she was happy to know your body was still a well read book in her library.

Ellie’s tongue went back to give quick, but long licks to your cunt, making sure to leave more pressure then the next. One of her hands moved to your inner thigh and pressed it down gently to ensure you were keeping your legs fully wide open for her, especially when her lips would take a break from the licking and go back to suck on your clit again and again and again.

You could feel the warm tension in your lower abdomen spreading throughout your body as you fully allowed your voice to moan and groan out whatever words came to mind that would accurately describe the ecstatic feeling that Ellie was putting on you.

“’m so close,” you whined as you subconsciously squeezed Ellie’s hair in your hand even more as you tried your best to keep your eyes open so you could watch the way Ellie looked in between your legs.

At your confession, Ellie began to slow down. Infact, her tongue was licking along your slit, but purposefully not putting too much emphasis on your clit because she knew you would be coming undone all over her tongue if she did.

As tempting as all of that sounded to her, she hadn’t even had her fingers inside of you yet.

Your eyes squinted as you watched Ellie’s tongue as it moved tantalizingly slow. By the way the corner of Ellie’s eyes were pinched, you knew she was smiling deviously even though her full face blocked as her tongue dragged up and down your cunt.

Her eyes looked straight into yours as her mouth disconnected from your center. A line of spit connected the both of you before Ellie wiped her lips with her thumb. With that same thumb, Ellie glided slowly along your cunt as the severity of your wetness made a squelching noise that had Ellie regretting she had ever removed her mouth from you.

Ellie’s teasing had you making noises as if you were a new born baby crying out for its mom. Begging and pleading and writhing so you could have your way, but Ellie wasn’t having any of it, she was much too entertained by how you were acting.

“What’s wrong?”

All you could do is respond with a whiny tone as her thumb dipped inside of your cunt for a brief second that didn’t last nearly as long as you needed it to.

“You like that? You want my fingers inside of you?”

Your nodding was so quick, it made your entire head vibrate. Ellie snickered with amusement as she watched you grinding yourself down onto her fingers that were beginning to pick up speed as they rubbed along your pussy.

“God you’re so hot.” Ellie’s eyes were super glued to your lower half as she watched the way your hips rolled into her hand, leaving your wetness to glisten on her fingers. She could only imagine how good you’d look riding her fingers like this.

The next time your body ground down, Ellie tested the waters by slipping the tip of her middle finger inside of you with ease, thanks to your wetness. Your little, bitchy whines were enough of an answer for her to proceed, But first Ellie wanted to take you to bed and ensure she had enough room to properly fuck you into oblivion.

At the disappearance of her fingers, you looked down with a mix of anger and shock. However, Ellie was quick to give clarification as she stood up from the couch with her hand outstretched towards you as she nodded in the direction of her bed.

You nibbled on your lower lip as you placed your hand in Ellie’s palm, just before she assisted in getting you to a standing position.

And from there, everything felt like a blur.