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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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Step Into The Daylight - Part 11

Summary: Cal Kestis offers some more insight into who your mysterious son is.

A/N: Thank you guys for being so, so patient and still being excited for me to update. I feel like my Din muse has returned and I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: spoilers for up to s2, e5

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

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"Oh," your heart fell as you looked down at the little one sitting on the floor and cooing happily. He looked between the between you and Din before turning his gaze back to Cal, and the figures behind "is there...do you know anything about him? I don't know how...I'm still learning how to properly wield the force and I can't..."

"Yes," he said as he gently held out his hand to the little. You felt Din tense slightly at your side and gently put your hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze, "come here, little one."

The child slowly clambered up, grabbing one of Cal's fingers and letting the Jedi pick him up. He cooed quietly as a wave of emotions splashed over Cal's face. You wondered if this was hard for him, if it reminded him of the mysterious Master Yoda, if it reminded him of the days before he, like so many others, lost everything.

"We'll go," you offered quietly as you motioned for Din and the others to follow you, along with Jeele. Din stiffened at first but didn't question your judgment and then followed after you.

You settled back down in the kitchen, the six of silent as you let a long huff of air.

“Where are my manners,” you shifted next to Din and studied each of the new figures in turn. There was another woman, older in appearance with warm, dark skin and a kind face, a younger woman covered in tattoo-like markings and white blonde hair, as well as a smaller figure that you recognized as a Latero. You offered them your name before turning to your Mandalorian, “this is Mando and I believe you’ve met Jeele already.”

“Cere Junda,” the older woman stuck out her hand and gave you and a firm handshake, “this is Merrin and Greeze. We work with Cal; you just be the mysterious Jedi.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever qualify to have that title,” you admitted, “not since the order is all but gone. But...you are. I can feel it - the force is strong with you.”

“It once was,” she confessed as a tight smile crossed her features, “but I no longer use it. Much as happened since the fall of the Order, and much of it I’d like to forget. The pull to the dark is too strong sometimes...I’m sure you must have felt it.”

You tensed as her words washed over and Din’s gaze shifted to you. You swallowed thickly as you realized that she was right; what you’d felt, especially in the crystal cave was strong, that call to chaos and violence, the pull to the dark. But you were strong enough to resist it then and you hoped to continue to be, “y-yes...I’ve felt it before.”

“It will get easier over time,” she promised, almost as if she could hear you fears and worries, but then again, you supposed she probably could, “Merrin is a Night Sister. You probably feel the energy from her too.”

“A Night Sister,” you said as the younger woman offered you a small smile, “from Dathomir? You use Magick, don’t you?”

“I do,” she agreed, “you are well versed in your histories aren’t you?”

“I had a lot of time when I was studying by myself, I tried to learn a little about a lot, but I would not consider myself an expert by any means. Your people have been through much.”

“As have yours,” she reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “we’re survivors, we make due with what we have, and stick together.”

“Together is the only way we survive,” you agreed before you turned your attention to the last of Cal’s crew, “it’s nice to meet you too. Greeze?”

“At your service,” he sounded entirely neutral as he looked over the two of you, eyes lingering on the Mandalorian, “don’t see many of you anymore. What are you doing with a little Jedi? I thought Jedi were the enemies of the Mandalore?”

“It’s a long story,” you begin, thinking about the day you’d met your mysterious Mandalorian, sure that it was going to be the last day of your life. Little did you know that it would be the beginning of your entirely knew life, one will with more adventure, and love, than ever before. You turned to Din and offered him a small smile, sure that he was giving you the same one in return, “but to make it short, I had a bounty on my head, and he ended up saving me both from my injuries and capture, and the rest is history really.”

“Oh jeeze, another love story,” Greeze sighed jokingly as your cheeks turned warm, causing you to pointedly keep your gaze away from Din, although both of you now knew that’s exactly what it was, but so much more than that, “what is it with Jedi and forming attachments, I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

“It wasn’t,” Cere said sharply, “which is one of the many reasons the Jedi Order fell. I never quite did understand that part, I do...but it never made sense.”

“Good thing I’m not a Jedi then,” you said softly as the whole table laughed, “because I would have been doomed a long time ago.”

Din’s hand was on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze as he watched you closely, a rush of emotions coursing through his blood.

“Listen, Cal told us about your crystal. Which means it’s time construct your own lightsaber,” Cere explained as you sat up with excitement. You’d been through hell and back to get that crystal and you were going to build that saber no matter what, “we have materials for the hilt back on our ship, we’ll get it all out for you. When you’re ready, come find us and then you can build.”

“Thank you,” your breath caught in your throat as you stared at table and let out a long breath.

“It’s a big step, and a right of passage,” Cere acknowledged, “take your time and find us once you’re sure.”

“I will,” you promised. The three of them stood up and started to head back to their own ship, with Jeele giving you a small nod and following them. It must have been a comfort to her as well to have other people who had experienced the same things around. They knew all the same heartbreak and loss.

Once when they were gone and silence fell over the two of you again, you let out a long sigh, just as Din did the same.

"You don't think-"

"No," you promised, "I don't think Cal is going to do anything. We can trust him, I can sense it."

"Do you think we'll get answers...something? Maybe he can help train him," he started babbling as you reached up and put your hand on the cowl at his neck giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze, "I don't know if...I’m not...”

"I know," you replied softly as you understood exactly what he was trying to say, "you know what we have to do. Whatever happens, we'll get through it. We're a family, Din and nothing is going to change that. You don't have to do this alone...I will be here with you every step of the way."

He remained silent for a few moments, and you could hear a few heavy, long exhales come through the vocoder of his helmet. You remained silent but put your head on his shoulder, watching as he put a hand on your thigh. You put your hand on top of his and he silently laced your fingers together.

In all honesty, you weren't prepared for what might be coming. You'd been waiting and looking for more information about the mysterious small child, your son, but now that you might be getting some answers it all felt...gut wrenching. You wanted to know more about him and how to help him for his sake as much as yours and Din's. But at the end of it all, his was Din's son, and yours. Parting with him... it would be...almost impossible, but if it was what needed to happen, then you would do it. You were sure it wouldn't be forever, something in your heart told you that at the end of the day, your family would always be together.

The silence was tense at first, stiff as you both tried to come to terms with things that might soon be happening. But it soon shifted into something much more bearable and comfortable. One of the many things that you loved about your ever blossoming relationship with the Mandalorian was how the two of you could easily read each other. You rested your head on his shoulder as his hand was firmly on your thigh.

"Din?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?" his voice was tired, bells, he was tired and exhausted but he kept going; because of you and your son.

"We're going to be okay," you promised him again, feeling the need to reassure both of you again, "just like I had to leave the two of you for a while, this might be the same. But look, we're back together. The force...it works how its supposed and I know we're going to be together always. I saw it..."

"A Mandalorian and a Jedi," he huffed lightly, "they would never have seen it coming."

"Times change as do all things," you agreed, "but we are neither. I'm just me and you're just you. Aliit."

"Aliit," he agreed. You could see him leaning ever so slightly towards the door as you laughed lightly, "do you think..."

"Let's go and check," you stood up and offered him your hand, which he took without hesitation. The two of you slowly padded down the hallway, remaining silent as you walked back into the hull.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight that met your eyes. On the floor, almost as unchanged as when you'd first, were Cal and your son, intently staring at each other. Din looked between the two of them before turning to you.

"They're communicating," you whispered softly, "they can understand each other's thoughts...its a skill you learn and improve over time...I'm afraid I'm not quite there yet."

"Thoughts," Din repeated as you nodded slowly. Almost as if on cue, Cal broke his gaze with the little one and turned to you.

"He wants me to tell you something," Cal as you approached the duo and sat down on the floor next to them with Din following suit. The little one turned me looked at both of excitedly, "his name. His name is Grogu."

“Grogu,” the name, gentle and soft, completely unexpected and yet perfectly fitting, caught in your throat. The tears that welled up in your eyes were immediate as you looked at the same green creature on the floor. After all this time, you finally knew his name. Grogu. He turned to, a little smile on his face as his ears perked up in excitement, “hi, my love.”

“Grogu,” Din repeated and the little one’s response was enough to make your heart melt. He cooed happily, nothing but happy little noises as he clambered to his feet and headed straight for Din. He stopped in front of his legs, holding his little arms up as he waiting for Din to pick him up. He hesitated for just a moment and you were positive you heard a small sniffle from under the helmet as DIn gently scooped him up in his arms before holding him tightly to his chest. It was silent for a moment as the two embraced each other before pulling apart as Din pressed the his helmet tenderly against his forehead, “Grogu.”

“Cal,” you reached over and back the child, no, Grogu’s back and gently rubbed it in a sign of reassurance, “can you tell us anything more about him?”

“I was able to get some more out of him,” he confessed, “but there’s a lot of...holes, dark spots, in his memory. Parts of his memory are almost blank; he spent a lot of time in hiding, in fear...he was alone and scared for a long time. He hid his powers, lost touch with them for years in order to survive. His ability to adapt and blend in led to his survival.”

“But he’s used them recently,” you raised an eyebrow as Grogu made a small sound.

“He feels safe,” Cal explained as Grogu appeared to nod, “he feels protected when he’s with both of you.”

“H-he does?” Din’s voice cracked as Grogu held onto one of his gloved fingers, “I’ve always wondered...”

“Yes,” Cal promised with a gentle smile of his own, “he’s formed a strong attachment to you, both of you. He thinks of you as parents.”

“We think of him as ours,” Din’s free arm found its way around your waist as you nodded, trying to take in and adsorb everything. That mean he understand you both, he knew just how much you loved him and how much you both cared.

“Where was he before? Before he was found?” Cal’s face fell slightly at your question, an almost upset expression crossing his features, “Cal?”

“At the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” he explained. Where your brother hand been. Where Cal had been. Before they lost everything, “he had several teachers over the years, but during the purge he was smuggled out and put into hiding. He was lucky...like me. We survived unlike so many of our brothers and sisters.”

“You both went through so much, Cal, but you survived, that’s the important part,” your voice was gentle as the ginger haired man closed his eyes and let out a long breath. You had no doubt that the memories still plagued him often; survivor’s guilt. You all had in one form or another, “but who saved him? Why just him? Not that I don’t love him, but what’s so special about him?”

“I don’t know,” Cal shook his head in defeat as he looked at Grogu with a sad little half smile, “he doesn’t remember...or he’s blocked it out.”

“Another piece we still need to figure out,” while you felt slightly defeated, you were happy in turn. You knew a little bit more about him and his origins, and if nothing else, you had a name and you knew that he loved you both as much as you loved him.

“The most important question is - what does the Empire want with him?” Din kept his voice down, although the frustration was evident as he held Grogu close to his chest. All the excitement of what had been going on had slowly worn him down and he was started to loose the fight against slumber, “there was a scientist, he was trying to do something to him, but I took him back before they could do anything further.”

“The Empire doesn’t exist anymore,” you reminded Din as the men sighed deeply in unison; if it wasn’t for the severity of the situation, you would have laughed.

“The Empire still exists, it always has,” Cal offered as Din nodded, “under different names in different forms. Evil is always out there, and there’s been...stirrings about.”

“Of what?!”

“A new order,” Cal confessed quietly as you grimaced. None of that sounded good in the slightest, “but that’s just among many other things going on.”

“I...we’ve been tasked to bring him back to his people,” Din said as a look of realization crossed his features, “whether’s that his native people or the Jedi we don’t know.”

“There’s not many Jedi left,” Cal stated the obvious as you nodded, “especially not fulled trained Jedi like Jeele or Cere.”

“What about you, Cal?” you asked, knowing that Din was reluctant to do so. It would be hard on you both, but you knew what you had to do, “can you train him?”

“No,” he shook his head as you and exchanged a look of surprise with your Mandalorian, “his attachment to the two of you...it’s very strong. Emotional bonds by Jedi are forbidden for a reason-”

“Surely you can’t believe that.”

“We’ve all seen what an emotional attachment can lead to...it can lead to great things, but horrible, terrible ones as well,” he closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped forward, “Darth Vader was once a Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker. He was one of the most powerful Jedi of all time and yet we all know what happened with Darth Vader.”

You breath hitched in your throat as you thought back to all the horrors and atrocities that had plagued not just your childhood, but Din’s as well, and those of countless others, “what do we do then? How do we...”

“I don’t know,” he let his words linger in the air as he slowly leaned over and gently stroked Grogu’s soft ears. The little one was curled up in Din’s arms, the tiniest snores emanating from his mouth, “but I can’t take...I don’t want to set him down the wrong path.”

“Where do we go from here?” your question hung in the air as you exchanged a worried looked with Din. Part of your heart was elated that this meant you wouldn’t have to part ways with him just yet, but confused hung over in clouds as well. Despite all this time and effort, you were still no closer to figuring how the overarching mystery of it all, “if you won’t train him...”

“There is another place...Tython,” he perked up suddenly, “there’s a Jedi Temple there...it’s been long abandoned but has always had a strong connection, but if you take him there and he reaches out through the force, another Jedi somewhere might hear him and come.”

“If...”

“Like I said, there’s not many Jedi left,” he grimaced, “but someone might hear him. But it’s up to him, if he chooses to reach out. It’s his decision to make.”

“We’ll do it,” Din said quietly as he looked at his son sleeping in his arms, “if it could possibly help. Whatever it takes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we’re in this together.”

“I’m sure he’ll make the right decision,” Cal slowly rose to his feet, pausing as he studied the three of you. It reminded him of his own little found family, of Cere, or Merrin, or Greeze, and how no matter what, they were his family, “I think he’s already made his decision.”

"What do you mean?" you stood up and followed Cal as he walked towards the ramp to rejoin his own crew. Putting a hand on his arm, you gently stopped him, "what decision has he made?"

"You'll see," he promised quietly, casting a look back at the Mandalorian who was whispering gently to the small bundle, "I'm sorry I can't provide more answers, but I know you'll get them. But you - when you're ready, come and find us to build your saber. After that, I'm afraid our ways will have to part."

"Thank you, Cal Kestis," before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him and embraced him as though your life depended on it. He stiffened for a moment before responding in kind, "you've already given us so much."

He gave you a solemn nod, looking back at your Mandalorian before you, watching as your face softened, "may the force be with you."

"May the force be with you," you replied, closing the ramp back after he disappeared into the snow to keep the chill at bay.

You were silent for a moment, head practically spinning with everything going on, but one thing you for sure was that you loved your little family more than anything.

"Mesh'la?" Din tilted the helmet up at you, keeping your quiet gaze for a moment. You struggled to hold back tears as you slowly made your way over to your boys, "is everything okay?"

"I...umm...yes," not a position to even begin to try to explain your emotions, you held your hand and motioned for him to take it. Without hesitation, Din gently enveloped your hand with his and rose to his full height.

“I’m just...it’s a lot to take in. All of it.”

“Yes,” he commented gruffly, almost reminding you of the tone had adopted when you’d first met him. Your heart sank slightly at the thought and you hoped he wasn’t retreating into himself. Reaching up, you put your hand on the part of his neck that was covered in fabric and gave him a reassuring touch.

“Let’s go and rest,” you whispered, feeling the gravitas start to weigh on you. Between everything that had happened in the last few days you were physically and mentally exhausted. The siren call of slumber was getting greater and greater with every passing second. Din seemed unsure for a moment but you weren’t going to let him pull away. You knew he was worried, maybe even terrified of what was to come, just as you were, but you wanted him to know that he was definitely not alone, “Din. I’ve got you, I promise. We’re a family, don’t forget that...please don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” it was a soft promise as he reached up and touched your cheek with his free hand, the other still holding tightly onto the little one. Keening into his touch, you exhaled slowly as he wiped away the single tray tear that had rolled down your cheek, “I won’t...”

“Come on,” you took his hand pulled him towards the small space that was deemed as your deemed, “the bed is small but we can make it work.”

And so he acquiesced, feeling calm and contented, almost as if he was glad to let someone else be in charge for once, glad to let be the follower instead of the leader.

Once you were inside the small room, which made him look even more massive and broad, you reached for Grogu, taking care not to wake him up as you set in your bed, bundling him in blankets to keep him warm. He made a small sound, but quickly snuggled deeper into the blankets as your heart melted.

Turning your attention back to Din, you reached for his arm, slowly, waiting for him to stop you if he so chose.

But he didn’t. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as you worked to tenderly take off each piece of armor, starting with his boots. Setting each piece down gently, you didn’t stop until you were at his pauldrons, when you hesitated slightly. He was almost bare now, left in only his underclothes as he watched you work. Your breathing had become slow and methodical as you worked and you noticed that his had done the same

Something palpable had shifted; you weren’t quite able to put your finger on it, but you could both sense it. Once the armor was stripped from his shoulders, you let your hands linger on them, offering him a reassuring squeeze before moving to pull away to switch off the lights so he could remove the helmet if he chose to. But before you could move, his hands went to your wrists and held your hands on his shoulders.

“Din...” his name was soft but caught in your throat as you gazed into his visor.

“I want...” he trailed off, a shaky exhale leaving the vocoder as you tried to pick his words carefully, “we’re family.”

“Yes,” you agreed with a gentle smile, “we are.”

“Y-you’re staying...right?”

“Always, Din,” you promised quickly, “always. We were meant to find each other, to be together. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you,” his heart settled a little bit as he spoke the words aloud, reaffirming himself that this was real, “and I want you to be my wife - my riduur.”

“Din...I...” you nodded, your words not needing to be spoken as you both understood loud and clear what you were saying. His hands were firm but gentle on yours as he slowly moved them closer and closer to his cowl and the metal exterior of his ever present helmet, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he rasped as you tried to keep your lips from trembling, “but I want to. You have never once asked, attempted to look, judged, or made a big deal out of it. If there is anyone in the galaxy that deserves this it’s you. The one I want to spend the rest of my days with. We found each other as hunter and prey, and look where we are now.”

“So different and yet utterly the same.”

“The first time you left,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to collect himself, “I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never felt such a loss, such an emptiness before. I had to find you. But the second time...it was still hard, but it hurt less. I knew you’d be back, and we would be together again...”

“I felt the same way,” you confessed breathlessly, positive that your heart was about to burst out of your chest at his words, “it was the worst time of my life. Even once I’d accepted that you were gone, I still held onto hope that would we would be together again.”

“And now? I can’t imagine a day without you,” you sighed contentedly as you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his beskar, “I will follow you to the ends of the galaxy, Mesh’la. You...you and Grogu are everything. You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

“Are you sure about this?” it was a mere whisper off your lips as it hung in the air for a few moments as Din weighed the gravitas of the moment. He inhaled deeply before nodding once.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in life than this,” his words were enough to make you melt on the spot as he slowly brought your hands to the side of his helmet. He didn’t remove his own, his large, warm hands covered your own as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, began to push it up. He halted for just one moment before whispered, “together.”

“Together,” you agreed as the helmet started to come up, higher and higher, inch by blissful inch. Out of habit, or instinct, or whatever you wanted to call it, you squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to sneak a peek. Once it was completely lifted from his head and he released your hands to set the helmet along with the rest of his armor.

“Open your eyes, Mesh’la,” and gods did you almost choke as a strangled sound caught in your throat. His voice was warm and honeyed, that same baritone you’d heard before, but something was different about this. He reached up and touched your cheek, stroking it gently, “it’s okay...”

“Din,” it so damn soft that weren’t even sure that you’d said anything. And then slowly, little but little, you opened your eyes, blinking away the bleariness before finding him. And then you did it was like your heart stopped then and there as your world fell apartment and came back together all at once.

Din. Din Djarin. Your love. Your soon to be riduur was starting at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen.

He was a mixture of emotions, nervous, relieved, excited, overwhelmed, scared, happy.

But then, as you reached up and found his face, studying him astutely, he realized what it was more than anything else.

Loved.

He was loved. So loved. And it radiated into every fiber of his being, golden like the sweetest daylight.

“Hi,” you choked out as your tears welled up in your ears. He was so lovely, even lovelier than your vision made him out to be. Reaching up, you put your hands on either side of his face as you traced over his features, committing each little bit to memory.

His lips, soft and plush, pulled in a little smile, completed with several days worth of stubble and a mustache that might have look silly on anyone else. His eyes, sweet and dark, crinkled slightly as his smile grew and a dimple of revealed. Those eyes that had seen such beauty and horror, so many things, and yet they still watched you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

As you carded a hand through his dark curls, he made a sound of content as you scratched at his scalp. His was utterly beautiful, and while a small part of you wished you’d gotten to see this side of him earlier, you knew this was moment was perfect.

“Hi,” he repeated as he waited for you to say something...anything else. Judging by your reaction, how still and soft you remained, he knew this was playing out just as it was meant to.

“That vision had nothing on you,” you beamed at him, warming every part of him as he visibly relaxed, “you are...everything, Din. No matter what you think. “

“May I kiss you?” it was a timid, shy little question as you eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing him in. He smelled as delicious as he always did, warm and musky, a comforting smell that both ensnared you and grounded in the same moment.

“You don’t have to ask,” his hands found your waist as he pulled you close and crashed his lips onto yours. It was proper this, for the first, and hopefully many more to come. His lips chased yours in a gentle manner, although there was a sense of urgency behind his kisses.

Din pulled you against his body as you smiled against his lips, heart warming as you responded in kind. It wasn’t perfect by any means, a somewhat awkward, messy tangle of tongue and teeth as the two of you started to learn each other, in an entirely new way. But you wouldn’t have changed it any way at all. It was utterly perfect, and you knew then, just as you had before, that you were so in love with him.

The force might have worked in mysterious ways, but this was destined to be. You knew that wherever the two of you where, whatever happened, your souls would always find their way back to each other.

“I love you,” you grinned at him when you broke apart for a breath of air, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you raised your eyebrows at his words, attempting to figure out what he meant. You knew it was Mando’a, all of your time spent studying his culture had taught you that much, but it didn’t help with the translation. He laughed lightly at the confused expression, causing your mouth to form a small o.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s similar to I love you,” he promised, “it more or less means I hold you in my heart forever. More or less I love you.”

“I love it,” you replied with a small grin, “and you. Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?” he asked you took his hand and started pulling him towards the bed where the little one still slept soundly, completely unawares that two worlds were changing right next to him.

“Mando’a,” you pulled back to the blankets and pointed at the bed, motioning for him to crawl under them. He was tired, his head spinning, and he was eager to take you up on that offer, “I’d like to learn, to be able to speak it with you...and one day, o-our son.”

“Cassian,” he remember as you nodded, feeling a flush of warmth enter your face at the sheer thought. You switched the light off and padded back over to him, watching as he scooted over to make room for you, leaving Grogu nestled in between the two of you, “are you warm enough?”

“Yes,” you made yourself comfortable, snuggling into the pillows and blankets as his arm found its around your waist, his longer legs tangled with yours, “perfect. I wouldn’t change this for anything.”

“Me neither,” he agreed as he felt his eyes start to get heavy with sleep. This moment was everything; the three of you together as one little family. Which, he now knew, was exactly what you always had been, even when neither of you knew it, “rest now, Mesh’la.”

“You too Din,” you grabbed his hand with yours and laced your fingers together, “promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“That isn’t a dream? This is all real.”

“It’s not a dream,” he reassured you, “this is all very real. And tomorrow we’ll still all be here.”

“Good,” you brought his hand to your lips as you kissed his knuckles, “good. I love you, Din.”

“I love you too, Mesh’la. Now and always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #sitd #series #ff #my fic #fem reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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taeken-my-heart · 4 years ago

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Revenant Finale

Summary: You’d always been told that when you died that you’d walk into the light towards Heaven. Only problem is, you died and the light never showed up. Now you’re attached to a handsome but grumpy and sleep deprived medical student and neither one of you knows what to do to get you to finally cross over.

Rating: PG15

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, Ghost!au, MedicalStudent!Namjoon

Word Count: 6538

Warnings: Mentions of a seizure, though nothing is graphically described.

The majority of the next two weeks went by mostly uneventfully. You spent the larger part of your time split between watching Namjoon work at the hospital or in class. Sometimes, when your family could spare an hour, you’d spend time with them in your room; listening as they spoke to your comatose body.

Cora was often with your mom when she came to visit, touching everything in your room that interested her before coming back to stand at your bedside. On occasion, she’d stay in daycare and you’d get your mom to yourself. She told you about everything going on in the world and it was a bizarre mixture of comfort and anguish. Things were changing without you while you laid in that bed waiting to wake up. Time truly waited for no one. It was strange to think that one moment you were here and the next you were gone and the majority of the world wouldn’t change even a little because of it.

On this particular morning, your family had yet to come see you. You lounged on the couch across the room from where Namjoon was taking the vitals of your body and watched him work. You felt suddenly sleepy, like a dream was dragging you in and you felt your body clench tight before slumping over on the couch. The noise of the room, a blaring alarm, it all sunk into clouds of nothing.

Opening your eyes, the ceiling of your hospital room quickly came back into focus and you took a deep breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, you could feel something more than just gentle pressure. Your whole body felt like it had been tensed for hours; you were sore and out of breath and you watched zombie like as Namjoon quickly exited the room.

The room was filled with nurses, Dr. Bang standing over your body and you watched as everyone took a collective sigh of relief. What had happened? Why did everything feel so sore and where had Namjoon gone?

There was a tingle that spread through your whole body, similar to when your foot falls asleep and you winced, flexing your fingers as they stung. When the pain had subsided and you’d caught your breath, you stood from the chair to look for Namjoon. As you stepped into the hallway you suddenly found yourself standing in the disabled bathroom. Frowning, you looked down to find Namjoon huddled in the corner, face buried in his folded arms. His shoulders shook and you paused in surprise.

“Are you OK?” You asked softly.

Namjoon jumped, gaze darting up to you. His eyes were red rimmed and puffy and your heart ached for him. You went to sit beside him, wishing more than anything that you could wipe the tears from his face.

“I should be the one asking you that.” He groaned, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry. I just- I don’t know why you’re attached to me, I don’t know how to help you.” His bottom lip quivered as he stared down at his shoes, tucked underneath him on the cold linoleum floor.

“I want so badly to help,” he continued, looking back at you, “I want to be able to make things better, but I don’t know what I’m doing and that…that was terrifying. I thought that I’d lost you.” He reached his hand forward to stroke against your cheek and for a moment you nearly jumped at the contact.

It felt so real, like you were actually sitting in front of him, two normal people, and you could feel everything as though you weren’t somewhere floating between life and death. It was euphoric.

He seemed to be having the same thoughts as he watched, transfixed, as his thumb stroked across your cheek and down towards your mouth. “We, I mean.” He whispered, “I thought we’d lost you.”

“What happened?” You asked and he looked at you in confusion.

“You don’t remember? You were staring right at me.” When you shook your head no, he continued. “You had a seizure. I called a code blue and everything just happened so fast. It looked like both your body and you were having a seizure. It was awful. I was so scared. I really don’t know how I’m supposed to help you.” He repeated.

“It’s ok.” You said softly, leaning into the contact of his hand on your face. You craved the affection, the way his thumb lit nerve endings across your face. It was electric; he was electric. “Just having someone who can see me…someone who knows I’m still around and is willing to fight to get me back. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I wish I could do more.” He bemoaned and you smiled. “I want to make it all better.”

“You’re going to make such an excellent doctor.” You sighed, reaching up to grab his hand. “I’m glad you’re taking care of me; I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

Namjoon flushed, dropping his hand into his lap but you kept your fingers tangled with his, squeezing gently. You wondered if he could feel you as strongly as you could feel him. “Not even Hoseok?” He teased.

You could see the apprehension in his gaze as he asked it and you grinned, shaking your head. “Nope, not even Hoseok. Only you.”

You reached out to wipe the tears from his face, watching in amazement as they disappeared with the swipe of your fingers. You wondered what was going on with your body right now; why you were suddenly so present.

Standing, you motioned for Namjoon to stand up as well. He stood, going to splash some water on his face before grabbing a paper towel to dry off. “Let’s get you back to work.” You hummed, moving towards the door. “Somehow, things will all work out. Don’t you think?”

He moved towards you, staring down into your face, eyes still slightly red but dimples on display as he smiled. “They better.”

Around three in the afternoon, your family came. Cora was dressed in the cute yellow dress you remembered agonizing over. It was too expensive but you wanted her to have something that made her feel like a princess. In the end, your mom had paid for it and then it had taken 3 days to convince Cora to take it off after trying it on so you could wash it.

“We rushed over as soon as we were able.” Your mom said and you watched as her eyes filled with tears, “she had a seizure? What happened?”

“We’re not really sure at this point in time,” Dr. Bang started, “it’s not typical for someone to have a seizure this far along into their recovery. We’re doing more tests to make sure everything is functioning properly; with special attention to her brain. So far, though, she seems to have actually improved. Every test we’ve run has come back very positive. It’s extremely encouraging.”

Your mother flopped in the chair beside your bed, relief washing over her features and you watched as your brother Luke went to go squeeze her shoulder. Your dad and Ethan both stood with Dr. Bang as he gave more information, but your attention was captured by Cora as she attempted to climb on your bed.

You grinned as your mother fussed over her, pulling her back into her lap while Cora pouted. Normally, your daughter was fairly fussy with what she wanted. It seemed like you being here in this bed had subdued her somehow. You missed your feisty girl.

They spent the afternoon fussing over your hair, straightening your bedding and putting new, fluffed pillows under your head. You smiled at the attention, their love warming you from the inside out.

You couldn’t wait to give them all hugs again.

The apartment was quiet once more. Namjoon flipped on the lights in the hallway, illuminating it in low florescence as he slowly removed his shoes. He was weary this evening, you could almost see his thoughts racing through his mind as he leaned against the wall, kicking his final shoe into the shoe bin by the door.

He stood, sluggish, and moved towards the living room to sit on the couch. “I guess I broke a cardinal rule today.” He sighed. You came to sit beside him, brows furrowed in your confusion.

“What rules?”

“The unwritten one that says to not get too attached to your patients.” He looked over at you with a sad smile. You felt your chest clench but you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. Admitting to being attached sounded nice…but he said it like it was a bad thing. “I thought we were gonna lose you today and I felt like I was losing a piece of myself with you.” He admitted.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked carefully.

His head dropped onto the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess it depends on how you choose to see it. It’s got its good and its bad. I can’t fall apart every time I lose someone as a doctor, and it’s bound to happen. I know it sounds callous to people on the outside, but you have to separate yourself from the tragedy somehow or it will chew you up and spit you out.”

“You haven’t lost me, though.” You pointed out softly and his answering smile was grim.

“But have I ever really had you?” You couldn’t say anything to that because the truth is, you didn’t really know the answer. “At first, we thought you were dead. Then we find out you’re actually in a coma, which could be good or bad depending on if you wake up. If you do wake up, will you even remember me? All this? We’re banking on a whole lot of what ifs.”

You paused, rubbing your lips together before finally releasing your thoughts. “You sound as though you’re thinking of something more beyond me just waking up and being with my family again.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the planes of your face before speaking. “Did I read things wrong?” He whispered. “I thought there was potential for something more…between us. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, you didn’t read it wrong.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, burrowing into his neck. You could smell his cologne, sharp and woodsy and you inhaled deeply. “But what about Eunae?”

Your head rose as he shrugged. “What about her?”

“Haven’t you been wanting to take her out? I mean, let’s be honest, I’m half way between alive and dead. I’m not exactly a catch right now. Even if I wake up…I have a daughter. Eunae doesn’t have baggage like me.”

Namjoon scoffed. “Everyone has baggage, Y/N. You wanna know my baggage? The real reason I haven’t asked Eunae out, I mean.”

You sat up fully, angling your body to face him and you nodded. “Lay it on me.”

He smiled before sighing. “Because I’m scared,” he said. “Not of Eunae or commitment but I’m scared of being left behind. My mom left my family when I was 7. Got home from school one day and all her stuff was just…gone. No note, no explanation. My mom was the happiest person in the world; if she was suffering in any way, you’d never know. I guess that’s what made it so easy for her to leave and have everyone reeling.”

“I’m so afraid that I could give my entire world to someone, like my dad did, and they could just take it all away from me. You build a beautiful life with someone, get married, have children, and then suddenly they’re just…gone. So, there you go. I’ve got mommy issues.” He laughed; short and humorless, twisting the ring on his finger in circles.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t surprised, because you certainly were. Namjoon seemed so put together, like he had no problems in the world. It was a good reminder to not judge a book by its cover because you just never knew what was under the surface.

“I’ve got ex-boyfriend issues.” You finally said with a grin and he smiled. “It’s like you said, we’ve all got our baggage. Let’s not worry about things right now, we’ll face things as they come. First, though, I need to wake up.”

Namjoon chuckled, nodding. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way?” You asked and he looked down at his watch.

“Yeah, actually. I’m gonna order some take out. I’m feeling pizza.”

“If you put pineapples on it, I’ll judge you.”

Namjoon grimaced. “I’m not a monster."

Namjoon yawned loudly, stretched across the couch lethargically. Jin and Jimin had arrived shortly before the pizza and they’d brought company with them. Taehyung and Jungkook were as good looking as you remembered, Taehyung stretched like a cat across the carpet while Jungkook nursed his lukewarm beer.

It had been hours since the hospital; since the scare of the morning, and being with this group, though most didn’t know you were even there, made you feel like you’d been missing something all your life. Because of Tim (your ex,) you’d become rather isolated friend wise. There were a few work acquaintances and a couple friendly regulars at the bar, but it wasn’t the same as having a solid group of people to call your own.

You’d given up a lot of yourself to be with Tim and then in turn to be a mother. You wondered if being a part of a group like this was still attainable. Between work and spending time with Cora, having friends just seemed like an impossible dream. The first thing you needed to do when you woke up was to find a new job. You couldn’t keep going on acting like these sort of relationships weren’t important.

Namjoon yawned again, standing and stretching. “I gotta get to bed. I’ve got clinicals again tomorrow and I’m barely functioning as is.”

“Night!” Taehyung called from the floor, eyes blinking slowly up at him, looking more cat like and regal than before. Namjoon said his goodnights before looking over at you and inclining his head slightly towards the hallway. You moved from your spot in the living room and followed him down the hall towards his room. He shut the door after the two of you, clearing his throat and you watched him curiously.

“I was wondering,” He idled, scratching the back of his neck. “Would it be weird if I asked you to stay with me…in here? I know you don’t sleep right now but, it would make me feel better to have you closer. No pressure, of course! I was just wondering.”

His words tapered off in his embarrassment and you smiled. “Which side?” You asked.

He grinned, pointing to the right and you moved towards the mattress, sitting down and patting his side of the bed. “Come on then.” You hummed. He chuckled, cheeks pinker than before.

“I need to change and brush my teeth.”

“I’ll be here.” You nodded, moving to lay down against the bed.

He returned not long after, dressed in pajamas and smelling minty. He grabbed the covers that had been squished down towards the end of the mattress and pulled them up and over your shoulders. Burying himself the same, he stared over at you and you watched him pull the blankets to his chin.

“Thanks for humoring me.” He muttered softly.

“I’m not humoring you; I want to. It’s nice to be here with you, to feel normal again.”

He scooted a little closer, reaching his hand out carefully to touch your arm. You could feel it as though your body was really here, lying with him in this bed. So real, so intense.

“It’s like you’re really here.” He whispered, running the tips of his fingers gently down your arm and watching the goosebumps left in his wake. “Not in that hospital bed.” You shivered.

“Yeah.”

He tucked his chin into his chest, clearing his throat once again. “Uh…I like to cuddle at night, is…is that ok?”

You chuckled, nodding and his hand slid carefully around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth of his chest through your fingertips and you tried not to let your emotions show.

“Goodnight.” You whispered.

His fingers dancing across your spine was his reply as he closed his eyes, drifting quickly to sleep.

It was still dark when the bird’s started chirping; happy and bright like they knew the sunrise was on its way. Namjoon’s alarm hadn’t gone yet, but his body had woken as though on instinct. His bed felt empty, the room absent as well and he sat up suddenly.

“Y/N?” He called, stepping from his bed and into his slippers. There was no reply and he opened the door to his room, moving down the hallway and into the living room. The empty beer bottles and pizza boxes from last night were still laying on the coffee table, but otherwise, the room was deserted.

Namjoon’s heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest. “Y/N?” He whispered. Still no answer.

Where were you? You’d been practically attached to his hip the last few weeks, but where were you now? What if you had died during the night? He hadn’t prepared himself for a situation like that and he felt suddenly nauseous. Rushing back to his room, he quickly showered before dressing and running from the apartment. He was in such a hurry he nearly left his bag.

The subway was even emptier this time of morning. He’d left earlier than normal, but fear was controlling his limbs right now and he could hardly sit still; knee bouncing loudly in the empty carriage.

What if he got there and you’d died? Been moved to the morgue? Bile rose in his throat and he closed his eyes, willing the thought away. He couldn’t handle this right now, he’d deal with it later if it came to it. Maybe you were just attached to your body in the hospital room now. Stranger things had happened, right? Seeing ghosts in the first place definitely fit that bill.

When the subway arrived at his station, he rushed from the train and up the stairs out into the morning. Birds were chirping louder now as the sun was starting to rise. Namjoon didn’t even stop to drop his things off in his locker, he walked as quickly as was acceptable to the room he knew was yours.

Rounding the corner, his body sagged with relief to see your body still laying in the bed. He moved closer slowly, watching your chest rise and fall and he thought he’d throw up all over again from the emotions rushing through him. Still, he didn’t see your ghost standing anywhere around and he ached to know what had happened; where you had gone. He moved closer still, standing over your bed and reaching out carefully to run his hand over your forehead.

His heart nearly dropped as your eyes fluttered open, darting around the room before settling on him. You smiled and he felt like his whole body was melting into the floor.

“You’re here.” You whispered.

“You remember?” He asked, eyes stinging.

You nodded. “Everything.”

Namjoon choked back a sob, the stinging behind his eyes leaving tracks down his cheeks as he bent forward, hugging you close. “I thought you’d died.”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you said, running your fingers through his dark hair. His tears wet through to the skin of your shoulder. “I felt a tug, though, the sort you can’t ignore, and then I was back here in my body. I knew you’d come.”

He pulled back to look at you, smiling and you pulled his face down towards yours, kissing him softly. “Thank you for helping me.” You whispered against his mouth and he kissed you again before pulling away.

“I didn’t do anything.” He huffed, but you shook your head to dispute.

“You saw me. You have no idea how much I wanted to be seen.”

You hoped he knew what you really meant.

You had the feeling he did.

“Thank you for not hating me after I was so rude to you at first.” He smiled shyly.

You chuckled, running your fingers down his cheek. “Well, I was a trespassing ghost.” Namjoon’s stomach growled loudly and you looked down before back up at him. “Have you eaten?”

He flushed, shaking his head no. “I was so worried you’d died; I couldn’t think of anything else.”

You glanced up at the clock and then back at him. “There’s still an hour before your clinicals start. Go now and get some breakfast from the cafeteria.” He looked like he meant to refuse you and you smiled, kissing him once more. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He grumbled but stood, shaking his hair through with his fingers and nodded. “I’ll ask the doctor if I can call your family with the news. I really want to be the one to do it.”

“I want that too.” You grinned.

Once the sun had fully risen and you’d been fed, Dr. Bang entered the room, smiling bright. “We sure are happy to see you awake. You gave us a scare the other morning.”

You sent Namjoon a private smile before answering, “Yes, I heard thanks to Mr. Kim.”

“Namjoon will make an excellent Doctor someday.” Dr. Bang smiled, “you’ve been in very good hands.”

The next few minutes you spent with Dr. Bang as he explained your progress to you so far and Namjoon stepped out of the room to call your family. They still weren’t sure why you’d had a seizure and you wondered absently if somehow it had woken you up, but thankfully all scans and bloodwork had come back normal since then.

Both Namjoon and Dr. Bang had to return to work, with promises to return when your family came. Suddenly, you were left to your own thoughts. You’d been in a coma for just over a month so you really hadn’t missed much of the world, especially since your spirit or ghost or whatever you had been, had been wandering around seeing and hearing things.

Mostly, you’d missed out on time with your family. Your daughter. You couldn’t wait to hold her in your arms. You wondered if you’d have to testify at Tim’s trial. Most likely. You were alive and well, but he had intended anything but and you needed to make sure he never had the opportunity again.

When your family finally arrived, Namjoon stayed close by your side, explaining to them what had been going on with your care as you cuddled Cora in your arms. She talked happily about her upcoming show-and-tell at daycare and you discussed all the things she thought maybe she could take with her.

Your brother Ethan owned a snake that your daughter was a little bit obsessed with and you were mildly afraid he’d actually let her take it with her to show off. Ethan and Luke were both “cool” uncles, giving Cora anything she wanted and sometimes you questioned their motivations. You had the feeling they were both vying for the position of favorite uncle.

Come lunch time, after your family had left and you’d eaten, you laid back in your bed, staring out the window as a bird soared passed and landed on the branch of a nearby tree.

“How are you feeling?”

You turned to see Namjoon standing by the door and you smiled. “Good. Tired, but really good.”

“Do you have enough energy to see one more guest?” He asked, and you frowned. Another guest? But who?

He motioned for someone to come in and you smiled brightly as a familiar handsome man in a leather jacket entered. “Jimin!”

Jimin laughed, scratching at the back of his neck. “This is weird,” he admitted with a grin. “I know we technically met but, you know.” He shrugged and you laughed.

“But you couldn’t see me. Well now you can; how’s it feel?”

“Surreal.” He admitted, walking to the side of your bed. “You said my name with so much confidence and I’ve never seen your face before. It’s like meeting someone you’ve met before and forgetting their name. I’m a little embarrassed.” “I’m truly offended.” You nodded resolutely and he grinned, taking the seat beside your bed.

“What are you going to do now? Back in the world of the living, everyone can see you. It must feel like a new lease on life.”

You smiled, twisting the sheets over your lap between your fingers. “I’m gonna find a new job. I’ve got two right now that make me feel like I have barely anytime to breathe, let alone feel human again. I want a change of pace.”

“They’re hiring receptionists here, you know.” Namjoon said suddenly. “Not yet, I mean, but I know a few of the current receptionists are going back to school and planning on putting in their two weeks. Maybe I could put in a good word. Hours are decent and pay is good.

” “Thank you, Namjoon. I’d appreciate that.”

~ 1 year later ~

“I don’t want to wear pants!” Cora complained loudly and you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Honey, I told you before, we’re moving boxes today; a dress just isn’t practical.”

Cora stomped across the room, sitting down on the couch between boxes. She was wearing the frilly pink dress you’d bought for her just last week and looking like a little pouting princess. Goodness, if she weren’t your kid…

“I hate pacticyool.” She frowned and you chuckled, moving to stoop in front of her.

“It’s practical, and that just means that it will be hard to do things in your beautiful new dress. We’re gonna be getting dirty. Do you really want your beautiful princess dress to be covered in dirt and maybe even get ripped?”

Cora huffed, kicking her feet forward slightly in a miniature tantrum before letting her folded arms fall to her sides. “I don’t want it to get broken.” She admitted and you stood, reaching out your hand for her.

“Then let’s change quickly. Namjoon and Jimin will be here soon.”

“What about uncle Taehyungie? He promised to bring me a ring when he got back.”

You smiled, hoisting her to her feet and helping her maneuver through the boxes back to her nearly empty room. One box left open with a small t-shirt and some jeans on top, you helped her to unzip the back of her dress.

“Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jin will be waiting at our new apartment for us. I’m sure they’re all really excited to see you!”

This cheered her up and she quickly helped you to drag her t-shirt over her head, insisting she could do it herself like the independent little stinker she was. After getting her into a pair of socks and taping the last box with her pink dress safely inside, you stared out back over the tiny, dingy little apartment one more time.

It was a piece of crap, honestly, but it had been your piece of crap since Cora was only a baby. You’d had a lot of really amazing memories here and a couple of not so amazing memories too. It was bitter sweet to say goodbye.

A knock at the door roused your attention and you went to open, beckoning both Namjoon and Jimin inside excitedly. “Good morning!” You cried as you shut the door behind you. “Did you bring your muscles?”

“And then some.” Jimin flirted, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you laughed. Namjoon smacked his shoulder, going to reach for your waist before pausing.

Cora had come back into the living room just then, curly, red haired ragdoll clamped in her little arms and she beamed widely as she saw the two new additions to your party. She didn’t know about Namjoon and you yet, you’d been afraid to introduce her to someone that might not be a more permanent fixture in your life until you were positive.

Now…well, the small rock on your finger made you feel safe, but with “uncle” Jimin in the room, now was not the time to tell her. “Namjoon! Uncle Jimin!” She shouted happily, bouncing towards them and into their arms.

Your heart soared as she clung tightly to Namjoon’s neck and he rubbed his hand up and down her back. You couldn’t have asked for a better man to raise your daughter with you. Couldn’t believe he was so willing to step up to the plate.

You ushered everyone to start grabbing things before you got misty eyed and the four of you spent the next ten minutes moving boxes into the moving truck. Namjoon and the guys had helped last night too, after Cora had gone to sleep, so there wasn’t much to move now, but you’d insisted on leaving a few of the light one’s so she could feel like a “big girl helper.”

After everything was packed up, the four of you squished into the cab of the moving truck and started the journey to the other side of the town, closer to your new job. Namjoon had kept his word and had helped you to get a job at the hospital.

Your first paycheck had nearly made your eyes bug out of your skull and you’d definitely cried as your skimpy looking bank account had sagged with its weight.

You were by no mean’s rich, but you felt like you were these days.

The apartment complex was newer construction. White stucco and tree lined streets greeted you as you arrived. Namjoon had gone apartment hunting with you at your insistence. Once you told Cora about the two of you (and mitigated any potential problems or confusion,) you intended for him to move in with the two of you. You wanted him to like the place.

Jin had groaned about finding a new roommate, complained loudly about the hassle and Jimin had rolled his eyes, whispering that they’d actually already gotten someone; Seokjin was just a drama lover and wanted a rise. He’d been disappointed not to get one, but you’d just laughed.

Cora was overjoyed to see Taehyung as you pulled up along the curb, practically leaping into his arms once he’d unbuckled her. You followed after her, Jungkook holding out a hand for you to take as you stepped down and you thanked him.

Taehyung let the rest of you grab a box while he carried Cora up to the 16th floor (on the elevator, of course. He wasn’t a martyr.) Jin complained about Tae being a slacker and you grinned, sliding the key into your door, pushing it open and stepping inside.

“Wow, nice digs!” Jungkook complimented, walking into the open floor plan main room, across the linoleum floors and to the window. “You’ve got a balcony?” He cried suddenly, twisting the lock. “What luxury is this?”

You laughed, placing your box on the kitchen counter and moving to stand on the balcony with him. “Nice right? Not much of a view, really, but it’s not a brick wall either, so we’re really moving up in the world.”

Namjoon laughed from behind you, hugging you around the waist and you glanced over your shoulder to see Cora occupied with Taehyung at the countertop. She was opening a small sparkly purple box that you assumed was her new ring and you grinned before cuddling further into Namjoon’s chest.

“We don’t have balconies in student housing.” Jungkook complained.

“Someday, man.” Namjoon said, standing and patting him on the shoulder.

“Mommy!” Cora squealed and you could hear her bare feet slapping across the linoleum as she ran to you. You turned and bent down to look as she held her fist in the air. “I’ve got a ring like you now!”

You smiled, staring down at the giant pink ring, lopsided on her finger from being slightly too big. “So you do!” you cried happily as she jumped around, thrusting her fist in everyone’s face for them to have a look.

After an appropriate amount of time spent praising Cora’s new ring, you all returned to the truck to grab more boxes. After 10 minutes, Cora began to complain about being tired so Taehyung took her back up to the apartment to keep her occupied while the rest of you finished the job.

You ordered takeout that would hopefully arrive right around when you were finished in the truck and spent the next 20 minutes daydreaming about cream cheese filled rangoons. You were famished by the time the food had arrived (and thrilled into a small victory dance due to a working doorbell.)

Everyone sat down on the living room floor, Cora with a pillow underneath her, and you all chatted late into the afternoon. Early evening came and everyone said their goodbyes, only Namjoon staying for dinner.

You made spaghetti, Cora’s favorite, and Namjoon helped her to find the box full of her stuffed animals. You’d all managed to set up the large furniture before the others had, had to leave, so at least there were beds and seating. You’d spend most of your day off tomorrow unpacking while Cora was at her grandparent’s house.

“Dinner’s ready!” You called, setting plates and forks down on the table. “Cora, baby, do you want juice or water?”

“Water, please.” She requested, crawling up into the dining chair and grabbing her fork. She dug in messily and you watched as she slurped spaghetti messily up and over her chin. Oh well, she was getting a bath anyway.

After grabbing waters, you sat in your own seat, smiling over at Namjoon as he waited for you to eat. You took a bite of your food, staring down at your daughter as she waved her head back and forth over her plate, staring down at the noodle hanging from her mouth and wiggling like a worm.

“Cora, honey.” She looked up at you, eyes wide as though you would scold her and she slurped the noodle noisily into her mouth.

“Yes?” She questioned softly.

You looked over at Namjoon before continuing. Now was as good a time as any, you supposed. “What would you think if Namjoon came to live with us too?”

“Oh.” She said, looking over at him, taking in his features pensively. “That would be cool. He doesn’t have a bedroom, though. Where will he sleep mommy?”

“Well,” you started, but she interrupted quickly, ideas sprouting quickly in her little mind.

“We’ve got a couch!” She supplied, “Or, mommy says we have sleeping bags too.”

You chuckled, continuing on carefully. “Actually, mommy and Namjoon were thinking about getting married. What do you think about that? Would that be nice?”

“Married?” She mumbled, testing the word in her mouth. “Is that when mommy’s get babies?”

Namjoon choked on his sip of water and you giggled nervously. “Well, sometimes honey.”

“Mommy said she can only get a baby if there’s a daddy.” Cora replied matter of fact. “You can be a daddy, right?”

Namjoon patted at his mouth and the dribble of water in front of him on the table with his napkin before continuing. “Yes, someday I would like to be a daddy.”

Cora shrugged, going back to her spaghetti. “I think it sounds fun.” She replied, slurping another noodle into her mouth. “My daddy had to go somewhere right now, but maybe you can be my new daddy. Will you give me a sister? I really want a sister.”

Namjoon grinned over at you and then back at her. “I’ll definitely try my best to give you a sister.”

He chuckled as you smacked at his arm but Cora continued on. “When will you get married? I would like to have a sister soon, please.”

You reached across the table to pat at her mouth with your napkin. “Well, we haven’t decided when exactly we’ll get married, but soon. Maybe next year.”

“That’s forever away!” Cora complained. She turned to look at Namjoon. “Will you move in tonight?”

He smiled, rubbing at the back of her head. “Not tonight, but really soon. I don’t have any of my things to move in yet. Are you happy that mommy and I want to get married?”

Cora nodded, grabbing a fork way too full of noodles and attempting to shove them all in her mouth at the same time. “I think it’s cool.” She slurred sloppily around her mouthful. To un-trained ears, it sounded like a whole lot of noise and nothing else, but thankfully you were accustomed to her speech patterns.

You grimaced. “Babe, finish your mouthful before speaking, please.”

After Cora was tucked into bed and had finally fallen asleep, both Namjoon and you turned the TV on low and sat back on the couch. “Thank you for cleaning up.” You said softly and he smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and kissing you softly.

“Happy to help.” He whispered back. “So, Cora seems happy.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I’m glad. I was afraid…not that I had any reason to be; she loves you. Still, I want my two favorite people to get along.”

Namjoon reached for your hand, fiddling with the ring on your finger absentmindedly. “I’ll admit I was nervous too. Didn’t know what I would have done if she’d been upset. Turns out, all she was really concerned about was getting a baby sister.”

“Which you promised her.” You chuckled and he grinned, shrugging.

“I’ll at least enjoy trying to fulfill that promise.” He grinned wolfishly and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Well, actually, about that…” you trailed off, reaching for your purse and pulling something from it to hand to him.

He gaped down at the pregnancy test in his hands, mouth flapping uselessly as he grappled for words. “Really?” He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Really.” You nodded as he looked back down at the pregnancy test. “I took it last night…so, did you have fun trying?” You teased.

He laughed, looking down at you as his eyes darkened. “I did. Hey, you in the mood to roleplay?” He mused.

“What did you have in mind?” You grinned as he tucked his face into your neck, kissing along the edge of your jaw.

“How about some good old fashioned baby making?” He teased and you grinned.

You pulled his head up to hover over yours, staring into his eyes. “Are you OK with this? It wasn’t planned, but are you happy?”

His features softened, smile settling into a gentle simmer. “I couldn’t be happier.” He murmured, kissing you deeply.

You hummed against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Take me to the bedroom, Mr. Kim.”

“With pleasure.” He grinned.

Thank you so much for going on this journey with me and being so patient! I decided to combine the last two chapters together. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think! <3

#namjoon scenario #namjoon x reader #btsbookclub #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #namjoon #bts #bts rm #rm fluff #rm angst #rm scenario

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

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This is one of my favs :D:

Billy can't properly use his hands for a while. They hurt too much still. They get tired and sore as fuck if he over-uses them(as his whole body, really). So when he's released from the hispital. Steve offers to take him home and help him until he recovers he doesn't really have an alternative but accept (Because the other is come back to a living hell with Neil, and Billy is too hurt already to como back to that). And its so hard at first. He makes it so hard for Steve, even if he *knows* he's just trying to help him. But Billy's pride hurts even worse than the rest of him. So it takes a while. A long struggle of Steve helping him dress and undress, carry heavy things for him, help him even feed, shower, brush his fucking teeth but he's so tender, so patient that Billy can't help the way he's falling in love with him when sometimes Steve takes his hands and night, maybe when they're on the couch, absently watching the tv, and ask "how much there hurt today?" because he knows nights are when they're at their worst, and then rubs at them gently, one by one, without any rush, soothing the pain, relieving the tension, working his fingers into Billy's tired flesh and Billy doesn't want him to ever let go (Of his hands. Of him. Of the way Steve Harrington makes him hurt)

Oh my god I love this one!

Because Billy has learned to live his life independently ever since he was a kid. He learned not to ever rely on anyone else for anything, because the last person he relied on left him. So he tries to do everything on his own and refuses to ask for help.

That’s why he was so hesitant to go and live with Steve after he was released from the hospital. It felt more to him like an act of pity and even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own, he didn’t want to be coddled.

When he first arrived to the Harrington household, he figured that he might need help with major things like getting up the stairs and other difficult tasks, but soon he came to realize that even the smallest things you wouldn’t even think about became an agonizing chore. It starts when he tries dressing himself for the first time and he can’t fasten the button on this jeans. Not only does it hurt like hell to use his hands that way, but he’s lost a lot of feeling to where he continuously fumbles trying to get it through the hole. After trying for far too long and leaving a lasting ache in his hands, he opts for a pair of sweats. He is able to secure the tie but after one too many close encounters in the bathroom, he decides to leave it undone in the future for easy access.

And then there comes showering. A very hands on task. He is able to wash his hair with ease but he can’t for the life of him hold on to the bar of soap. His hand will spasm regularly causing him to drop it onto the floor. (perhaps there’s an innuendo there). So he is forced to wash his body with the same shampoo that was used to wash his hair.

Over the course of a week he starts to figure out more mundane tasks that he can’t seem to do anymore. He can’t floss without causing his gums to bleed, he doesn’t even bother thinking about shaving. He can barely sit through a meal requiring cutlery before he has to stop, excusing it as just being full, but in actuality his hand is cramping like a mother fucker and he can’t hold the spoon in his grip anymore.

Every night they hurt like hell. And it’s not a sharp pain. It’s like a dull pain similar to when you try to use a leg that’s fallen asleep. Like a knuckle that won’t crack. And it’s not like a bullet or stab wound. It’s not like a bruise. There’s no visual indication that it hurts, and sometimes Billy thinks it’s all in his head. So he just runs his hands under ice cold water until they turn blue because he favors the numbness. And he doesn’t tell Steve.

And Steve begins to notice these things. He notices how Billy doesn’t wear jeans, he notices the strong familiar scent of lavender, he notices the hair growing in on Billy’s face even though he had bought him razors, but he has no idea what these little details mean until one night where the two decided to watch Saturday Night Live together.

Steve brings Billy a can of coke from the kitchen and without even thinking Billy tries opening it. He slips his knuckle under the tab and instantly winces in pain, dropping the open soda can onto the floor, spilling its contents all over the carpet.

And Steve has stored all those little details in his mind and instantly pieces it all together.

“Your hands hurt.” He says it like its a fact, not a question.

“Yeah no shit.” Billy replies.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t need your help Harrington. I’m doing fine on my own.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You sure? Because it looks to me like you just avoid doing things that involve your hands. You haven’t shaved and god your breath is rancid.” Steve is expecting the signature Hargrove comeback but instead he looks over at Billy and his eyes are wide and he looks like he’s nervous. It’s a look Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen on that face. Quickly Steve backtracks. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Look, I’m here to help you out, so you gotta tell me this shit.”

“I can’t do anything.” It’s barely audible. Steve watches as a single tear drops from his cheek to the floor.

Steve carefully walks closer to Billy and takes a hand in each, gently holding them by his fingertips.

“Which one hurts more?” He asks, and Billy shakes his right hand.

Steve lets go of his left and forms Billy’s right into a fist. He then warps both his hands around the closed fists and squeezes gently. The all encompassing pressure allows Billy to actually feel his entire hand for the first time in a while. It’s successful at distracting from the pain and Billy just leans into it because it just feels so good.

“Let me help you.”

#hehe this turned out way longer than I thought #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #im soft #mandi writes tresh

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amylillian22 · 4 years ago

Text

Doggie Door

Summary: Y/N moves in next door to Chris Evans. One night she gets called into work and asks Chris if he can dog sit her beagle, Phoebe. Knowing how crazy her work is, Chris hires someone to build a fence with a doggy door for both Dodger and Phoebe.

Word Count: 1,784

Warnings: None. Cutness. Puppy love, pun intended, lol.

Author’s Note: I can’t remember, but someone gave me the idea to write something similar to this. Also, I couldn’t find a gif that worked with the story. Instead, I picked this cute one of both Chris and Dodger.

[My Chris Evans Master List]

Moving from Texas to Boston was slightly overwhelming for Y/N as she had never left her home state before. However, she knew it was the right decision to do when she landed her dream job at Mass General as the Chief of Pediatric Surgery. Within a week, she packed everything in boxes, drove across the country with her fur baby, Phoebe.

It’s her third day in her new home. The movers had arrived yesterday and managed to help her set up and place all the heavy furniture where she wanted. All that was left to do was unpack her boxes and turn the house into her new home.

She grabbed a box labeled dishes from the garage and brought it to the kitchen. She turned around and noticed Phoebe’s dog tags on her collar weren't clinging as she walked. Phoebe wasn’t a lazy beagle. She was active and always on Y/N’s heels.

“Phoebe?!” She looked around the half empty house and couldn’t find her. “Baby, now is not the time to play games. Where are you?” She called out again before she noticed she didn’t properly close the door that led to the garage, which was also open.

“Damn it!” She ran outside to the middle of the street. “Phoebe?!” She yelled. She jogged down the street calling out her name until she reached the deadend at the end of the street. Her eyes began to well up at the thought she lost her fur baby of 5 years.

“Phoebe?” She called out once more in front of her house.

“Excuse me?” Y/N turned around to see a handsome man walking towards her with Phoebe trailing behind him and another dog. Y/N rushed towards Phoebe and immediately kneeled down to hug her.

“I’m guessing this is your Phoebe?” Her neighbor chuckled as Phoebe licked Y/N’s face.

“Yes, thank you so much,” she stood up. “I got worried. I’m not familiar with the neighborhood just yet and neither is Phoebe.”

“I was washing my car and she came on over and started playing with Dodger,” she looked down to see his dog smelling and sniffing Phoebe. Phoebe licked his face before they started running around in the front yard. “I guess they like each other,” he smiled at the two dogs in front of him before he turned to look at her.

His smile was gorgeous. Infectious. She couldn’t help but smile back at him as she responded, “I guess so.”

“I’m Chris,” he extended her hand for a handshake.

“Yes, I know who you are. You’re Captain America. I’m Y/N,” she smiled as she took his hand in hers. “It’s hard not to know who you are when you work with a bunch of kids.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “So, you’re a teacher.”

“Actually, no. I just got the job as the Chief of Pediatric Surgery at Mass General.”

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. It’s funny,” he chuckled.

“What is?”

“I work with a charity that helps with the kids and family at Mass Gen,” he explained.

“Really? I’d love to hear more about it.” She hoped he took the bait. She knew he was attractive. The guy was practically a Greek God. She only hoped he was open to the possibility of getting to know her just as much as she wanted to get to know him.

“How about over dinner sometime?” He asked with a sly grin.

YES! She mentally screamed.

“I’d like that. Well, you know where I live,” she pointed at her house. She mentally face palm at herself knowing she probably looked like an idiot pointing out with her thumb like she’s hitchhiking.

He chuckled, “I gotta get back to my car.”

“I’ll see you soon.” “Hopefully sooner than later,” he flirted back.

She smiled at him once more before she called out for Phoebe. Phoebe licked Dodger’s face once more before she ran back to her owner. Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle when she heard Chris tell Dodger, “I think you have a girlfriend now.”

***

During the past week, Y/N and Chris hadn’t had their dinner date yet. It’s not that they decided not to do it or one changed their mind. Y/N’s first week at her new job was hectic. She barely had time to cook or get a good night’s sleep. Chris has also been busy filming a new show for AppleTV in Boston.

However, in between their crazy and busy lives, they still saw each other in passing. They had small conversations when getting the newspaper or the mail. They’d say hi or bye when one caught the other on their way out.

But today was different.

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned as she quickly grabbed whatever clean clothes she could find. Phoebe whined in her bed, clearly annoyed she’s being disturbed during her sleep. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” She asked Phoebe.

She quickly tied her shoes and glanced at the time. It was nearly 3AM and she was on call. Unfortunately, she was needed for emergency surgery as one of her patients took a turn for the worst. Given the horrible situation, Y/N was already worried and stressed about Phoebe. The surgery would take over 12 hours. The doggy daycare was closed to have Phoebe with her new furfriends for the night. She had no other choice but to ask her new neighbor.

She made a ‘tsk-tsk’ noise, signaling Phoebe to follow her. She took a second before she happily followed her owner. Y/N grabbed the pink leash and hooked it on Phoebe’s collar.

“Come on, baby,” She opened the front door and grabbed her work backpack. Y/N crossed her yard and into Chris’. Phoebe’s tail wagged with excitement as she realized she was going to visit Dodger.

“Please don’t get mad,” she mumbled to herself as she rang the doorbell and looked at the dark house.

She waited and hoped Chris would answer the door. Dodger immediately barked as the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Within seconds he was at the front door, barking and jumping up and down with excitement as he saw Phoebe outside the other side of the door.

After a couple of seconds later, Chris opened the door. Y/N tried her best not to drool as he was shirtless and his dark gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. He rubbed his tired and sleepy eyes, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry to wake you, but I have a huge favor to ask,” she started. “I got called into a long surgery. Too long I can’t leave Phoebe home alone. I’m wondering if you can watch her while I’m gone?” She continued without giving Chris a chance to answer. “The guys were supposed to built a fence earlier this week because I knew this was gonna happen, but somehow they were double booked and short staffed at the same time and-”

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Relax. I got this. I can take care of Phoebe and I can keep her for a few more hours than needed so you can get some sleep afterwards. I got this. Go! A kid needs you right now. Go be the awesome superhero that you are,” He said as he grabbed Phoebe’s leash.

“Thank you so much,” she leaned and kissed his cheek. “I owe you.”

“I’ll be sure to collect,” he smiled as he waved goodbye to her.

***

Y/N groaned and turned around to lay on her back. She looked at the clock and noticed she had slept 12 hours straight once she finished her 14 hour surgery. Although there was some complications, she still had a successful surgery. The kid would have a long and hard recovery, but he was going to be able to live life to the fullest.

“I need to get Phoebe,” she mumbled to herself before she got up from her bed.

Phoebe had been next door for over 24 hours and she couldn’t have been more appreciative and thankful for Chris’ help. She already had mind to cook dinner on her night off for the both of them as a thank you.

She opened the back door and her eyebrows immediately furrowed as she saw a wooden fence around her backyard. On the left side, there was a big square hole on the fence and as if on cue, Phoebe and Dodger ran through their new opened doggie door. Phoebe ran and jump on Y/N, excited to see her owner after what seemed like forever ago.

“Hi, baby girl,” Y/N cooed as she scratched behind Phoebe's ears. Dodger started barking, wanting the same love and attention Phoebe was getting.

“Hi, Dodger,” Y/N chuckled as both dogs started licking her face.

“Howdy, neighbor!” Chris called from over the fence. Y/N stood up and walked over to see Chris’ head. She knew he was tall, but not that tall. She assumed he was standing on his picnic table.

She chuckled, “is that going to be a thing? Howdy neighbor? Because if so, I need to pull out my overalls and cowboy hat from my summer box.”

Chris laughed, his smile reaching the corner of his eyes. “So what do you think?” He lifted his arms up, showcasing the new fence.

“Chris, you really didn’t need to do this,” she started, only to be interrupted by him.

“I already had the guys coming in yesterday and I asked them to build you a fence since they were already here.”

“Let me get my check book,” she was about to walk away.

“No. It’s okay. It’s all taken care of.”

“I insist.”

“It was nothing. Just a few selfies and videos with them and they started building right away,” he smiled. “Wanna know the best part of it?”

“I saw it. The doggy door between the fences,” she smiled. “Smart idea.”

“Oh, it definitely is, but that’s not the best part,” he hopped off the picnic table. The doggy door hole was attached to a regular size door for them to cross over any time. Chris opened it and grinned as he entered her backyard, “I got us a big doggy door. Wait, that sounded wrong,” he chuckled nervously.

Y/N’s heart swelled knowing he went above and beyond to make things as easy for her the next time she got called into work in the middle of the night for surgery.

“I really don’t know how I can ever thank you,” she walked over towards him. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He cupped her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. It was gentle yet so passionate. Y/N couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his neck. Chris’ fingertips dug into her hips, fighting the urge to bring her body flushed against his. She pulled back first, her lips ghosting his.

“You’re very welcome,” he whispered. Then, his lips formed a huge smile and started chuckling.

“What?” She laughed with him.

“I’d told you I’d collect.”

#chris evans #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fluff #dodger evans

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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“Trusting desire -- starting to learn -- Walking through fire without a burn! Clinging a shoulder, a leap begins: Stinging and older, asleep on pins --

So here we go...”

~“I Should Tell You,” from RENT

x~x~x~x

Erik Apollo had never seen his guardian Carewyn Cromwell more scared than the night a rogue swarm of dementors descended on their neighborhood and she rushed home to find Orion protecting Erik with his Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus. He would also never see her quite that scared again, for the rest of his life.

Once Orion and Carewyn had walked Erik back home, Carewyn immediately rushed around, gathering blankets and bundling Erik up in something like a blanket burrito, and then steered him into bed while she made him some hot chocolate. While Carewyn rushed around, Orion quietly sat at the foot of Erik’s bed and gently encouraged him to take slow, deep breaths. Even though the nearly-thirteen-year-old wizard really wasn’t the sort to meditate, Orion was patient, and he eventually wore the boy down enough to steady his breathing by the time Carewyn arrived with the hot chocolate. Orion then got up and headed to the living room so he could leave the two alone to talk.

Erik slowly lifted the mug up to his lips and took a sip. His light blue eyes hadn’t met either Orion’s or Carewyn’s gaze once since they walked him home, but the hot chocolate did seem to bring some of the color back to his freckled cheeks.

“Better?” asked Carewyn.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good. Make sure you drink all of it -- chocolate is a good antidote, when dealing with dementors...”

Erik bowed his head and didn’t answer. Carewyn tilted her head slightly to the side, trying to read his emotions. She could sense discomfort -- shame.

“Erik,” she said slowly, “I’m proud of you, for having wanted to help. It was good of you to want to protect the Muggles who live on our street. But dementors aren’t something you can fight back with first-year spells -- ”

“I had to do something,” snapped Erik.

“I understand that -- ”

“No, you don’t understand! I had to make them go away! I couldn’t just stay locked up in here, listening to that toad Umbridge and Rowle and -- and -- ”

Erik choked on his words. Despite the anger in his voice, it was clear to Carewyn that it was an expression of hurt more than anything -- like a snake biting someone after being stepped on.

Carewyn’s eyes softened with sad understanding. “...They made you remember your mother.”

Erik bowed his head again, shutting his eyes tight to try to obscure the pain in his features. Her red lips coming together solemnly, Carewyn reached out a hand to trail it through Erik’s blond bangs gently. Despite how prickly he was, Erik didn’t pull away.

“How could the Minister just let them loose?” he whispered bitterly.

“He didn’t have much choice,” said Carewyn. “Minister Shacklebolt didn’t want them as the guards of Azkaban any longer...and I agree with him, they shouldn’t be there. But the dementors were positioned at Azkaban for a reason, however shaky it was. The Ministry thought to give them a purpose and food source that would keep them contained somewhere far away from both Muggles and wizards alike. So now that that’s off the table, we’re right back where we were three hundred years ago, trying to figure out what to do with them.”

Erik’s light blue eyes flared with hatred. “Wipe out the lot of them -- that’s what they should do.”

Carewyn sighed. “Easier said than done, I’m afraid. Drink up, now -- don’t let it get cold.”

Erik did as he was told and took another long sip. Carewyn considered her ward for a moment before speaking again.

“I’ll have to send an owl into the office...but I’ll be working from home for the next week or so. Until the Dark wizard that released those dementors is caught...I don’t think it’s safe if you’re here on your own.”

She offered her best attempt at a smile.

“...Fortunately, since Christmas is on the way, that means we’ll be able to have some fun celebrating it around my case work. Did you have anything special you wanted to do this Christmas? Any traditions?”

Erik shrugged. “Not really...”

“Well, at the very least, we can go to Diagon Alley and do some shopping together.”

“Must we?”

Carewyn bit her lip to hold in a laugh. Erik grinned mischievously despite himself as he finished his hot chocolate.

“...Ms. Cromwell?”

“Yes, Erik?”

“Those things you and Amari cast...the winged horses made of light...what kind of spell was that?”

The memory of Orion’s and her matching Patronuses once again made Carewyn’s heart swell in her chest.

“...It’s called a Patronus Charm. It’s a magical shield created by a powerful, happy memory, which takes the form of a different creature, depending on the person who casts it. It’s not an easy spell to cast, but it’s the one sure-fire defense against a dementor -- because it doesn’t have any sorrow or pain that a dementor can feed on.”

Erik frowned. “So Patronuses can look like other things?”

“Yes. Sometimes they look like magical creatures, but more often, they take the shape of an animal that reflects something about the spell’s caster. Wendy’s is a unicorn and Jacob’s is a hippogriff, for example...but Jae’s is a fox and Talbott’s is an eagle. I’ve also seen dogs, cats, lions, rabbits, bears, dolphins, swans...even an elephant.”

Erik turned the knowledge over in his head. “So there’s a lot of different kinds, then.”

Carewyn nodded. Erik looked at her, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s kind of amazing you and Amari have the same one, then, if there are so many...”

Carewyn’s eyes flickered over her shoulder toward Erik’s bedroom door, which had ended up slightly ajar.

“...It is,” she said very softly.

Carewyn held out a hand so she could take Erik’s empty mug from him and got to her feet.

“All right...you should try to get some rest. Chocolate helps a lot, but some peace and quiet and maybe even some sleep should help you fully recover. I’ll be up the rest of the night, so whenever you feel hungry again, you can come on out and I’ll make us something for supper. Or breakfast, depending on how late it gets,” she added with a wry smile.

“Don’t you mean ‘early?’” asked Erik with another mischievous grin.

The smile then slid off his face, making it look more serious.

“...Ms. Cromwell...I want to learn how to make a Patronus. Will you teach me?”

Carewyn paused by the door and considered Erik carefully.

“It’s very advanced magic -- many full-grown wizards are never able to cast one. It won’t be easy for you to learn, or for me to teach...”

Her almond-shaped blue eyes softened.

“...but if you’re determined, then I’ll do my best.”

Erik looked relieved. He’d clearly thought Carewyn might say “no.”

“Thank you, Ms. Cromwell.”

Once Carewyn had put Erik to bed, she closed the door to his room, casting a few silencing charms around it so that she wouldn’t have to worry about Orion and her disturbing his rest with their conversation. Then she washed out Erik’s mug in the sink, put it in the dishwasher, and headed into the living room where Orion was waiting. Carewyn found him meditating with his legs crossed on the couch, and decided not to immediately disrupt him. Instead she primly placed herself down on the couch beside him and watched him, taking the time to gather her own thoughts. After all...it wasn’t every day you found out that someone shared your Patronus. Carewyn wasn’t the type to believe in fate or predestination, but...knowing they had something like that in common...that their souls were that similar, when she’d been so resigned to the thought that she could never be everything he deserved...strangely it brought her some comfort.

“How is he?”

Carewyn blinked as she came back down to earth. Orion slowly opened his eyes -- his expression was very calm and his gaze very gentle.

“Better,” said Carewyn.

She rested her arm on the arm of the couch and trailed a hand through her hair.

“...He didn’t just come out to help the Muggles. The dementors...made him hear things, from his past, even while they were outside.”

Orion nodded, his eyes glinting with solemn understanding. “With how many of them there were...I daresay to someone with emotional scars, particularly fresh ones, such an aura could be stifling.”

Carewyn nodded too.

“I’m just so lucky that you were around,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t been there to protect him, I don’t know what I would’ve...”

Her voice trailed off, lacking the strength to finish the thought. Orion extended a hand and, after a brief hesitation, rested it on top of hers in her lap.

“You couldn’t have known what might happen,” he murmured gently.

“I should have,” said Carewyn in frustration. “I knew when I took on those cases, I’d be opening myself up to death threats -- I’ve gotten plenty of them through post....I should’ve known they’d try to target the ones I care about, just like R did -- ”

“You placed very strong protections over this flat. No Dark wizard could have gotten inside -- even the dementors couldn’t.”

“But my shields still couldn’t protect Erik from them! He was still affected by them...I should’ve been able to -- ”

“Carewyn,” Orion cut her off.

His level, patient voice betrayed a slight edge, even as his hand migrated up her arm to cling to her shoulder, steering her around so as to make her face him properly.

“You cannot plan for everything,” he said quietly, his voice still unusually firm. “You’ve done everything one could humanly do, to protect and care for Erik. You love him with all of your fire, and that shows in your actions. That’s more than enough, and better than can be said for most people. ...Please don’t hurt yourself like this.”

There was a silence. Carewyn stared into Orion’s eyes -- the galaxy-like depths were endless and unwavering, but something in the back of them...it was like they were beckoning her closer, wanting her to drown in them. She could sense something imploring and concerned, but also something soft, caring...longing. There was a flash of memory: herself as a sixth-year student, walking down the halls with her long hair and uniform in disarray and her eyes lacking all light or hope -- “I know the beasts we fight are different, but...” -- the first time Orion and she ever held hands, the day of the Quidditch Cup Award ceremony --

Carewyn hadn’t realized how they’d subconsciously moved closer together, while staring into each other’s eyes. She broke eye contact at last, her red lips curled up in a weak smile.

“...And here I thought I was supposed to be the one who’s talented at Legilimency,” she said sardonically.

Orion’s lips curled up in a wry smile as his hand slid back down her arm and returned to its place on top of her hand. “Don’t worry, you still are. Your inner fire is just too blazing for me not to feel its heat, Carewyn Cromwell.”

“Or you just know me too well,” said Carewyn.

Her gaze came down to rest on their joined hands. She slowly shifted her hand so that she could wrap her fingers around Orion’s wrist and hold it. Orion stiffened ever-so-slightly at first, but after a few seconds, he tentatively tried to mirror the gesture, brushing his own fingers along her wrist so he could take it in return. Carewyn looked up at his face and their eyes met -- although Orion’s face appeared as calm as ever, there was something almost shy coming off of him.

“Orion...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She had trouble meeting his gaze head-on -- her eyes had flitted down to his lips.

“...Your Patronus...how long did you know? How long did you know that it’s...?”

Orion now seemed to be the one having trouble meeting Carewyn’s eyes. He turned his face away, his grip on her wrist shifting slightly the way a horse might nervously pad the ground with their hooves.

“...Since the moment I first saw yours.”

Carewyn was taken aback. “That long?”

Orion’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed. He bowed his head, his eyes moving into the shadow of his bangs.

“...I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t say anything, back then,” the Star Chaser said softly. “To be honest...it’s something I’ve asked myself for years. I had reasons, of course, but even just repeating them back now...I daresay McNully would’ve graded them with very low percentages.”

He exhaled quietly through his nose in a sigh. Carewyn gave his wrist a light squeeze to try to comfort him.

“At the time, I was simply enjoying the moment, spending it with you,” he continued. “You were up and about, largely healed and in good spirits -- and in that moment, the thought that you and I shared a Patronus couldn’t distract from that. Instead it...enhanced the feeling. Gave it nuance. Not only was I happy to be with you...but I was seeing you more clearly than I ever had before. It was like seeing a beautiful wild horse from the distance for years, before finally getting close enough to recognize it as a unicorn.”

He glanced at her out the side of his eye.

“...I told you...that I’d thought we were alike before, didn’t I?”

Carewyn nodded, her lips spreading into a slight smile. “Yes. It seems you were right about that -- more than I realized.”

Orion tried to smile back, but it came out rather weak and hesitant.

“I knew we were kindred spirits the year we first met, Carewyn Cromwell. I knew that for all of our differences, you...saw the world the way I did. Wanted but a small piece of that world to call your own, as I did. Sought the freedom to live a peaceful, modest life, as I did. Guided and supported others, but only shared all of yourself with a special few, the way I did. And I confess, that’s not something I can say for much of anyone. And yet, even with that...it took seeing your Patronus for me to even consider looking at you with any sort of...stirrings.”

Carewyn couldn’t completely bite back a laugh. “‘Stirrings?’”

Orion’s cheeks darkened with a slight flush.

“I cannot call them feelings,” he said almost defensively, “that’s too strong a word. And...we were flying in different directions -- you toward the Vaults, me toward the Magpies. Neither of us could have changed direction at that time, even if we’d wanted to, and neither of us should have. We’d both worked too hard, put in so much tenacity in the quest for our ‘gold,’ to afford to get distracted so close to the end. Especially when...all there really was between us...was an old wives tale.”

Carewyn’s eyes became a little smaller and sadder as she squeezed his wrist again.

“Orion,” she murmured, “there has always been more than that. There’s been respect...faith...caring. And...”

Wendy’s advice rippled over her mind.

“Let him make that choice to love you, whatever it might look like. You’ll never know if it’s meant to be if you don’t ever ask if it could be.”

With a swallow and a light flush, Carewyn raised her free hand up to Orion’s cheek. When her fingers met his face, Orion gave a slight start -- as gently as she could, Carewyn cradled his cheek in her hand, using the contact to coax him to look at her.

“...I hope you know those things have only grown since.”

The softness of her voice and the beautiful caring rippling in her eyes were enough to make the tenseness in Orion’s shoulders ebb away completely. Within a minute, he’d melted, his own hand coming up to rest on top of hers on his face and his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the warmth and softness of her touch.

“Carewyn...” he exhaled.

He took her hand on his cheek, holding it as he brought it down under his chin and squeezed it tight. When he opened his eyes again, they were full of longing.

“…I have…nurtured this bud in my heart…longer than I have ever admitted to anyone – including myself. But when we collided again, during the War, that bud only served to grow further…and then bloom into a blossom so strong and beautiful that I could never hope to hide it…however ashamed I am that I denied it the sunshine and attention it deserved years ago. I’ve wasted…so much time, trying to stifle it…trying to be happy with what was in front of me, rather than chase what my soul was clearly aching for. All because of my own inner doubts -- because of the reluctance I felt, in the face of making a choice between the dream I’d been fighting for for so long…and the chance of a new dream I’d never imagined. I realize I have been a coward, Carewyn Cromwell – something you have never been, from the moment we first met. I don’t know if someone like that could be your soulmate – if I could ever live up to the standard that word entails...especially when your standards are so very high…but most assuredly, you are a special woman, one I will never know the likes of again…and I love you, all the same.”

The words made Carewyn’s heart feel like it’d swollen to a size too big for her mere rib cage to contain. Her eyes crinkled up to make room for the smile of pure joy that conquered her face and she gently rested her hand over Orion’s heart.

“You don’t need to worry about my standards, Orion Amari,” she said with blazing emotion in her eyes. “I...don’t know if I can be everything you need or deserve...but the way I feel about you, at least...I promise, you won’t ever have to doubt that.”

And in a fluid movement, she’d swooped in and placed a chaste, searing kiss to his lips. It only lasted a few seconds before she pulled away, so it was rather short. Too short, it seemed...for after Carewyn had withdrawn, Orion -- his black eyes flooding with a kind of emotion Carewyn had never seen before -- reached out both hands to cup her face and tilt her head back up so that he could kiss her again, more gently and deeply than before. When they broke apart again, both sets of eyes, blue and black, were sparkling.

“I’m sorry,” said Carewyn with a weak smile. “I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice.”

Orion smiled fully, handsomely, as he trailed his hand along her cheek to brush her short ginger hair behind her ear.

“I would be happy to train with you, my dear Abraxan.”

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay | Kevin Moon (TheBoyz)

You call Kevin in the middle of the night when you can’t deal with the sadness consuming your entire being.

Genre: Angst, lil fluff, inspired by my personal feelings tbh

For all those who are away from their loved ones due to the pandemic. Be strong, we’re in this together, and I love you.

----

“Hello?” I know without asking that Kevin is half-asleep, barely awake from his slumber, and I feel like kicking myself for disturbing him in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” he repeats, his voice a little clearer, a little stronger. I hear his sheets ruffling on the other end of the line and picking up what is left of my courage, I murmur out a soft:

“Hi.”

There’s a distinct pause. Then: “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

I hear the panic in his voice, the way it hitches a tone higher than his usual mellow alto. A rational thought in the back of my mind is screaming at me for bothering my boyfriend when he obviously has better things to do, but my heart seems to be thinking otherwise. I open my mouth to give him a somewhat coherent answer, only for a choked sob to make it out instead. Instantly without warning, my heart cracks open and no sooner have I provided him with a response that my eyes start flooding with tears.

“I’m okay,” I murmur when it’s obviously clear that I am not. Even a deaf person would’ve figured out my blatant white lie. There is some more shuffling, probably Kevin tugging his blankets away to sit up in bed, and my hand clamps over my mouth in an attempt to stop the onset of tears spilling down my cheeks in silent rivers.

“Y/N,” Kevin breathes, “What’s wrong? Don’t--Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Talk to me, hm?”

“Everything,” my words barely make sense amidst the endless sniffles, my heart aching like someone is insistently throwing punches without mercy, “Everything is just--just so wrong.”

His attempts to shush me only make me cry harder and my head dips down in shame, as though trying to make myself appear a little smaller. I hate having to rely on him, hate the fact that he sees me in my most ugliest state when all he ever does is bring me happiness and laughter. He’s the definition of joy itself and sometimes, I just wonder why someone that walks on sunshine as he does bothers to love someone like me, someone who is nothing but a pack of broken bones and a mess of feelings that constantly seem flooded by a permanent sadness. It’s a stain that never seems to come off no matter how much you try rubbing it raw.

The thought makes me cry even harder, heart squeezing inside my chest so hard that it hurts to breathe, gasps spilling from my lips every time I try to regulate my breaths.

“Hey hey,” Kevin’s tone is soothing, soft, “Y/N, listen to me. Y/N?”

“It--” the words break halfway out of my mouth. My body shudders, my breath rattles, “It hurts, Kevin. It hurts so much and I, I don’t--I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he responds, followed by a soft shushing, “you’re okay. Breathe with me, alright? I got you. Breathe with me.”

While I struggle to even comprehend what he’s asking of me, I force my brain to focus on the comforting tone of his voice, on his words and nothing else while trying not to get distracted by the constant endless whisperings of my demons on my other shoulder that are tugging me further and further into sadness. There’s a dull pounding in between my heartstrings where my heart is supposed to be, but still, I close my eyes and breathe in, shaky and unstable, before following his lead through the phone.

My fingers are clutched so hard around my device as if it’s my life line.

In, out. In and out. In. And. Out.

“You’re alright,” he says softly, words caressing my soul, “You’re okay, Y/N.”

How in the world can someone so far away manages to calm me down with mere words is a complete mystery. But soon enough, my sobs have died down into soft sniffles, hiccuping every once in a while. And he waits, waits patiently as I try to gather myself, before speaking up once more.

“You want to talk about it?”

Do I? Do I want to keep pestering him when he’s been nothing but supportive? Do I really want to drag him down with me to the depths of the waters I constantly swim in?

It’s like he knows that my thoughts are battling themselves out inside my skull, for he says, “Stop overthinking it, Y/N. Just tell me. Please?” My stomach clenches with guilt. It’s not fair to him, to be put in such a situation. He didn’t sign up for this.

“It’s just--” I bite my lip and my hand unconsciously fists through my hair before I tug at my locks, “I just--I’m just sick of all this waiting. And I’m tired of constantly being sad. I hate--I hate being like this. I don’t want to be like this,” I shake my head as a fresh set of tears brim the corners of my eyelids, “I’m sorry,” I murmur in an attempt to restrain the wave of pain crashing through my body, “I’m sorry, Kevin. I don’t know what’s wrong--”

“Stop.”

My mouth snaps shut.

“Stop saying sorry,” he says fiercely, all softness gone to be replaced by an intensity that causes me to wince, “stop saying sorry for being sad, Y/N. Being sad is normal, anyone would be in your shoes, far away from family, without knowing when borders are going to reopen, stuck in a country you can’t even call home...Of course you’re going to be sad, and you’re allowed to. You are allowed to be sad, Y/N.”

I clamp down on my lips so hard to restrain my emotions that I draw out blood.

“And I don’t know if that makes you feel better but,” he exhales in a soft breath, “I miss you too, you know?”

I squeeze my eyes shut as another tear rolls down my cheek to follow the path that’s already carved out by so many others. Gratefulness rushes through my chest, mixed in with intense affection that clogs the back of my throat.

“I miss you so much,” he continues in a rushed breath and if I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn that he’s trying to hold in the tears as much as I am.

“I--” I swallow thickly, “I love you.”

A soft chuckle, surprising but present, slides past his lips, followed by another deep sigh, “I love you too.”

I close my eyes and allow the words to wash through my heart and soothe the ache in my chest.

It seems like minutes, but the time flies as we continue our light, soft-spoken conversation until I finally feel like I can breathe again and that the knot inside my chest slowly loosens. Soon, I find that it’s easier to smile, chuckling at his jokes, laughter spilling more easily from my lips. It’s past four in the morning when he finally urges me to get some sleep, while claiming that he really doesn’t fancy a zombie for a girlfriend.

“I hope you’re eating properly,” he scolds jokingly, “I don’t want to see you losing more weight.”

“I won’t,” I roll my eyes, “I eat well, okay?”

“That’s what you always say, but I don’t trust you,” he sighs dramatically and causes me to giggle softly, “there it is, there’s the laugh that I love.”

My heart warms, like he’s just given me the warmest hug in the universe despite being hundreds of miles away.

“You’re so stupid,” I can’t stop myself from grinning.

“I prefer the word ‘ditzy’,” he responds, “anyway, go sleep. It’s late.”

“Okay,” I murmur.

“Hey,” he pipes up suddenly just when I’m about to say goodnight, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kevin.”

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?”

A sting resounds through my chest at the thought. I hope so.

“Soon.”

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chimswae · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Caretaker CH15

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,873

- Author Note:Late update again hmm i was a little busy these days with work ;( i appreciate your feedback and comment, just drop in my ASK BOX :)

Previous | Next

Chapter 15

“The filming is delayed so stay in bed” Jin sunk beside sick Hoseok, giving the younger guy a stern look. A look that killed any of the members whenever they disobeyed him. Hoseok sat up with Jin’s help, resting his back against the headboard “ I don’t think this is a big deal, I still can make it out through the filming” he murmured groggily.

“Bang PD is the one who gives the order. If you happen to have any complain, direct it to Bang PD” Yoongi walked in with a tray of chicken porridge and a glass of water.

Hoseok pursed his lips in disapproval not liking this at all “I don’t want to become the reason that everyone has to put their job at halt. I can film our music video today” his brows pinched together showing his protest.

Annoyed, Yoongi handed the food to Jin with an unknowingly scary glare rendered them speechless “And isn’t it selfish to say you are healthy when you are not? It was not a big deal; the filming can be pushed forward but not your health. Think of how to heal faster first then only you complain. Eat up and stop sulking” clicking his tongue, he left the room leaving Jin and Hoseok dumbfounded.

There was a moment of silence before Jin spoke up “You do realize, Yoongi is saying the right thing, aren’t you? Do not overthink Hobi. Today’s filming is meant to be pushed forward anyways, fret not there were problems with the locations. So, they had to make an amendment on that” he assured.

“Fine..” the sick boy grumbled in annoyance. Jin fed the younger guy patiently with affection and great attention. Whenever one of the boys’ fall sick, they would sometimes turn into an adorable baby. Even the I-don’t-give-a-damn Min Suga will be the cutest out of all them. Hoseok finished the porridge without much trouble, though most of time Jin had to force the food down his throat but he was able to eat all of it.

“Hyung.. Is it true the caretaker lady took care of me?”

“Yes, Seul was here when you passed out. But she left before I could thank her properly. I have no idea why she was in rush” Jin’s lips were pressed together into thin line. To be frank, yesterday he hoped to see Seul even for a little while. Upon his arrival, he was welcomed by an empty house and small note from Seul.

She was obeying the contract that her mother had with the company a little too serious.

Hoseok hummed softly “I remember a woman’s voice though I could not have a good look of her face that time. I wish to meet her and thank her one day. I thought you have her number? Can’t you request her to come here?”

“I did try, but she refused to meet us. She is obeying the terms in the contract. We are not supposed to have any kind of contact with our caretaker, but I eventually broke one of the terms by contacting her through messages”

“She doesn’t cause any harm well at first we though she was a sasaeng. Since her story matched with the original caretaker ahjumma, I trust her” Hoseok’s eyes glimmered with hope. How can this guy have trusted a stranger so easily? Come to think about it, he had not met Seul face-to-face.

The older guy had a small smile at the corner of his lips “I trust Seul too..” his heart hopped slightly at the mere mention of her name. Oh, why was that?

Jin fixed the pillow under him, and laid Hoseok down with a satisfied now “Now, rest. I will wake you up in few hours, so you can eat your medicine” he pressed the back of his palm against Hoseok’s hot forehead.

“Stop pampering me like a baby” he whined weakly accompanied by a soft cough at the end.

Smirking, Jin glared at his way “Arent you one?” Hoseok snuggled under the blanket to find warmth as he nodded weakly without complaint. He felt too weak to even open his eyes, for some reason his eyelids felt super heavy. It must be the food and unnecessary nagging from Min Yoongi.

“Call me if you need anything, sleep Hobi” he patted the top of his head before exiting Hope’s room with the empty bowl.

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

Pacing back and forth in front of Bangtan’s place, Seul growled in disapproval thinking of what she had gotten herself into. Her mother made her skip her job today just because she was concerned of Jhope’s condition. She was not supposed to open her loud mouth and spilled everything to her mother just now. Now, she had to be the delivery girl for the day, running errands for her mother.

“Deliver this to the boys” placing a bag full of variety containers come from different sizes in front of clueless Seul, she shot her mother a questionable look.

Seul puffed her cheeks “Mom, I have work. I will be late, can’t you make Hoon do the job?” she suggested, rejecting the request.

“He will not be back until tonight. Can you do me a favour and deliver this food to the boys. Drop everything that you do, I am sure you friend can cover it up for you. Plus, poor Hobi is sick, at this time he needs a comfort food for that dry throat” she sighed.

She gawked at her mom’s reply trying to decipher this absurdity “Mom, you do realize Hoseok has six boys to look after him, right? And, Jin knows how to cook that so called comfort food. Leave him do the job”

“That is totally different! Jin’s cook is alright but it is not enough for Hobi’s body. What he needs right now is a healthy food. I cooked chicken ginseng and porridge for him to savour. And others can share it together in this cold weather”

“You are unbelievable mother! What happen with the so called ‘the caretaker is not allowed to have any contacts with the boys’. This is a breach of contract!” she grew defensive.

Her mother shook her head with a soft huff “The term was breached long ago when you got caught by Yoongi-ah, so we might as well use this chance to meet them nonetheless. Besides, Jinnie contacted me last time to get me your number, so since we all have come to this..There is nothing we can do” Seul looked baffle, and out of sudden she felt victimized. Not that, she exposed herself voluntarily to the boys until she was caught by Min Yoongi. Things just turned out to be this way.

“I am not doing this”

“You are left with no choice”

“MOM WHY” she flailed her arms in disagreement almost too childish, but Seul did it anyway.

Her mother chuckled “Because I am your mother, now go wash up and deliver this before it gets cold! Don’t forget to hand this to them by hand, do not place it in front of their doorstep. I am warning you Ji Seul” Seul cringed when her mother voiced out the plan that she had in her mind out loud. She really should not underestimate her mother.

“Should I press the button or just leave it here” she mumbled under her sharp breath. After struggling for few more minutes, Seul had finally decided to just leave the food at the doorstep, pressed the bell and quickly escaped before anyone saw her. Yes, that sounded legit.

Carefully, Seul set down the purple bag one the ground not wanting to garner any attention. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the small button softly until she heard a loud ding “Okay run” she chewed her lower lips nervously.

Just when Seul thought the plan the she executed was a success, her body flew backwards crashing onto a hard yet soft surface. She hissed softly at the sudden impact behind her, “What in the world…” someone was grabbing her ponytail.

“Where do you think you are going” again that familiar voice whom caused enough mess to her heart is back. His other hand was holding onto her hoodie, making it hard for her to turn around and glare at the culprit.

Yoongi smug watching Seul struggled in his strong grip “Nice to meet you again Seul-ssi, it is not nice to leave before you can even say hi” with that, he dragged the poor girl inside by her ponytail. Despite using that kind of approach in forcing the girl inside, Yoongi made sure not to use force on her hair, afraid that it might hurt her. Not to forget, he used his free hand to grab the bag full of food left by Seul earlier and locked the door behind him with a mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“MIN FRIGGIN YOONGI. LET MY HAIR GO YOU FOOLISH MAN”

“Did you just call me Min Yoongi?”

“Then should I call you Min Foolish?” Seul said sarcastically. His grip loosening around her ponytail and without wasting any time, Seul turned her heels facing the devil in the mask. She was fuming with anger, as her nose scrunched up cutely following her heavy breathing.

Amused, Yoongi tilted his head, stared boringly at Seul’s direction with a playful smirk “Cute..” he blurted out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?” She frowned.

“I said you are cute” he stated one more time without any hint of embarrassment. Seul was creeped out by Yoongi bipolar attitude. One second he was acting like a dictator, and another second he’s blabbering some nonsense like right now. Compliment and Min Yoongi did not sound like a good combination to her.

Seul cleared her throat trying to not be affected by his empty words “Whatever. I am leaving. My mother wanted me to deliver those food for Hoseok-ssi. I am done with my task, so please excuse me” Seul was ready to leave. This was not supposed to happen, meeting Min Yoongi and being in the same room as his was the biggest sin ever.

Yoongi caught her wrist before she could pursue her intention in leaving him “We have a lot to talk about” he eyed the girl painfully deep, melting her bones like a fragile vanilla ice cream. Oh no, she vowed to herself to not fall for his gaze. Now her heart is acting up again because of him.

“Like wh-at” she squeaked shyly under his strong gaze.

“First thing first…When will you stop excluding me from the meals that you prepared for us?” he questioned.

“I don’t know”

“I am an impatient man”

“I know”

“So you know. What else you know about me?” Yoongi straightforwardness took Seul off guard. Every time she was confronted by him, her body seemed like to have a mind of its own. Seul would either embarrass herself in front of him or spilling out the truth which she didn’t intend to.

“………..”

“Again, I am impatient, Seul-ssi” he took the chance to take a few steps closer to stiff Seul who showed no sign of wanting to escape. Yoongi ran his finger over her wrist softly, stroking it painfully slow in a teasing manner causing her to shudder under his touch.

“We will get back to that later then”

Stood super close and handsomely in front of Seul was Min Yoongi, he leaned down to whisper those word in her ears. Her breath hitched at the slight contact of his lips against her skin “Secondly, the kisses. Why you kissed me that day and why were you kissing me back?” his thumb grazed her wrist and inched further along her cold arm.

The kisses that the shared previously had been haunting her and so did Yoongi. “Who else know about that” she tried to not let her squeaky voice sounded too weak in his ears.

“No one but us… How is it important to you that no one knows about this?”

“You are an idol, I don’t want to ruin your image. The kisses were a mistake. I was not myself” Seul retorted with a heavy sigh. She feared if anyone knew about this, they might use it to spread some malicious rumours.

Yoongi moved his hand to encircle it around Seul’s waist, “But, I was myself that day” he hummed lowly. Her knees weakened, heart pumping loudly and her heart had been spinning round and round due to this closeness. Anything that came out from Yoongi’s mouth bounced out from her messy brain. The adrenaline rush inside her was so real.

On the other hand, Yoongi loved the smell of her shampoo, her perfume and her soft skin against him. Everything about Seul was intoxicating, like his mind reacted to its own with her presence around him.

He squished her waist closer, brushing his lips at the side of her neck which frustrated her further “I am excited to see you again Seul. It was sooner than I thought” she clenched her fist as her mind was having a battle. A battle that she could never win, a battle that could change everything in her life.

“I..have to g…o” she palmed Yoongi chest to push him away and she found herself blushing at her own boldness.

He mentally complimented Yeoul again careful this time not to sound too obvious. In some situation it could not be helped especially when it was related to Seul. Yoongi let out a low chuckle, his voice alone could cause pointless uproar inside her heart “What if I want you to stay..” he teased.

Again, it rendered her speechless. Why most of the time she turned into a clueless and dumb girl in front of Bangtan, Yoongi was the major problem here.

Gathering her courage to answer Yoongi and left for good, Seul looked up only to be welcomed by Yoongi small yet alluring lips near her eye level. She tore her eyes from staring too long at that one particular part “I don’t think-“ her sentence was cut off by Jin’s voice.

“Who are you talking to Yoong” the sound if his footsteps were approaching them closer, and like a flash Yoongi quickly settled down, releasing Seul from his grasp. He missed the warmth of Seul’s body already.

Yoongi coughed a little easing the heavy lump on his throat “It is Seul” he said.

“OH? SEUL IS HERE” Jin eyes glimmered in happiness and Yoongi found it was sore to his sight. Why would Jin felt extremely happy to see Seul around? How close they were with each other?

Giving no time to flustered Seul recovered from Yoongi’s weird antic, she bowed politely at Jin with a nervous smile “Jin..i am here to deliver food from my mother. She was worried when she found out Hoseok-ssi fall sick. Can you pass the food to him?” Jin nodded.

“Ahjumma cooked for Hobi? That is nice of her, thank you Seul-ah” Yoongi cringed at their informality making him wonder how things escalated fast between both of them but not him and Seul.

Seul smiled genuinely “There is enough food for everyone and this time Yoongi-ssi is included” Jin’s sense the tense in her voice as she watched them both exchanged a weird signal. A sharp tug of jealousy pulled at Jin. Odd, yet he really felt that way.

“Thank you again Seul-ah for taking care of Hobi yesterday. We are sorry he is troubling you. Anyway, he really wanted to thank you personally, but he is fast asleep. I will let him know that you come with food” his handsome face lit up as is he in love. Again, Min Yoongi was sharp enough to notice the difference in the way Jin reacted around Seul.

“Ah it is nothing. I hope he gets better. I need to go now, I will just urm.. see you around I guess, since we ended up meeting each other now and then” she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear like a shy fangirl.

Does she act that way with every man! Yoongi yowled in his head, looking extremely pissed at the other side. Jin walked passed Yoongi and led Seul to the door “See you around Seul-ah, get back safely!” he chuckled.

“Urm.. yes.. good bye” she left without turning back most likely she feared herself. The feelings that she had for the two men were undeniably disturbing. Now, that she met almost everyone in Bangtan, what else could happen.

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

On her forehead a frown which had taken the shape of a deep horizontal line as her hand was moving in straight line wiping the glass window mindlessly. The frown stayed constantly in place ever since she left Bangtan’s place few hours ago. It was an evident of her discomfort. Seul tended to overthink and it was seriously an illness if she prolonged it.

At the corner, Wongeun and Hwasa were watching the girl closely with a wary look. Not that they wanted to be nosy, however Seul seemed a little off for the whole day. Being a concern friend, they were, Wongeun decided to inquire her after they were done with their work later on.

Seul emitted a soft sigh, finally gathering her sense back ‘Okay get your head together Ji Seul. It is just stupid tingly feeling that tries to mess up with your brain, you are doing fine’ she coaxed her heart. With that last heave, she averted her attention to the already sparkly glass in front of her. She must have spent at least ten minutes there wiping the same area all over again.

She straightened her body and rose from the chair, allowing her gaze drift slowly from the scene in front of her. The corner of her eyes caught a figure beyond the glass holding an expensive camera at her way. To her utter astonishment, the man was snapping a photo of her that caused her to feel displeased at the scene before her.

What is he doing. She placed the old rag on the table and squinted her eyes to get a better look. Indeed, the man in that grey hoodie was too engrossed in his photo taking and he snapped a photo of her. Seul did not want to sound delusional but he was being too obvious.

Inhaling a deep breath, Seul exited the store leaving Wongeun and Hwasa clueless. The man stood not far from the shop she was working and immediately kept his camera down with his eyes wide upon realizing Seul few feet from him.

“Excuse me, did you just take a photo of me?”

The man was panicking as he didn’t expect he got caught this sooner, his free hand was clutching onto a small sketchbook that he used to bring whenever he’s out along with his precious camera. He gulped, “I am sorry” he apologized timidly.

“I understand you are into photography, but I want you to respect people’s privacy. I don’t like my photos being taken by strangers” Seul crossed her arms eyeing the fully covered man before her. Even though she thought his eyes reminded her of someone, but she thought it was just her eyes messing up with her.

The man hung his head lowly in embarrassment “I just thought you are beautiful. I am sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable” he sighed deeply.

His compliment flattered her, however it wouldn’t change the fact that this man just invaded her personal space “Thank you but can you please erase my photo?”

“Can i.. urm keep one at least?” he negotiated.

“For?”

“For my personal collections. It is nothing just for my collection”

“That sounds so wrong and creepy, Mister”

The man in front of her flustered again as reality hit him hard. He really had a wrong choice of word sometimes, which cause people to feel uncomfortable around him “I apologize, I mean..as my photo collection. It is an art thing. I promise I wont release it anywhere” he rubbed the back of his neck slowly.

“No..” she could not see his expression due to the black mask covering half of his face, but Seul was able to sense his disappointment. She tried to harbour his attention again “Unless you tell me your name. A man like you must have name right, at least I know you are not a creep” he looked reluctant at first.

He went mute for a moment before decided to give in to Seul’s request, not that she expected him to comply to the request. She didn’t think the photos of her could mean that much to him in exchange of his precious name. Guess, people with passion has different point of view.

“It is Vante..” he murmured.

“Van who?”

“Vante..So let me keep your photo”

“Vante..Are you a foreigner? You name sounds unique” Seul was impressed by the name.

Taehyung shook his head to keep this conversation as minimal as possible, no one should know who he was especially this girl that happened to catch his attention. He mindlessly took her photos just because the view in front of him was a piece of art. She looked effortlessly beautiful with the frown evident on her forehead, the photos of her depicted thousand stories behind it.

“Then Vante-ssi, i will let you keep one of it and erase the rest alright. I will just go now. And good luck with urmm taking photos I guess” she felt the awkwardness built between them. Was it because the guy in front of him or was it the situation that they were in?

Taehyung called out Seul once again putting her step at halt “Wait!” he went to her side, tearing one page from his sketchbook “Take this as my apology” he handed a piece of paper with a drawing. Seul scrutinized the drawing closely, “I..am sorry, I sketched a little and this is you.” he explained.

Feeling lightheaded, her lips were formed into an ‘o’ shape “Thank you..urmm Vante-ssi” she smiled brightly. The drawing a little unique to her just as peculiar as his name but the drawing warmth her heart. She could feel the sincerity in that piece of art.

“I just learned how to draw and sorry if it doesn’t appear like it supposes to be” he looked at Seul sheepishly. It was his first time to show his drawing to anyone, not even his members could peek at his drawing. The fact he gave his drawing to Seul, it was something unusual.

A small chuckle escaped from her “It is beautiful. An art is something unexplainable and only few people could understand it. That is why it is called art. Thank you again. It is nice meeting you, goodbye” a small bow from Seul and she disappeared in the shop again to tend her work.

“I FORGOT TO ASK HER NAME AGAIN!” Taehyung slapped his forehead and frowned at his foolishness. He glanced at the tea shop in front of him with a small smile “She works here, maybe next time” he turns to head back with a gleeful smile on his face.

His evening rendezvous turned out fruitful after all.

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts series #bts idol au #bts romance #bts fluff #bts x oc #yoongi x oc #jungkook x oc #yoongi fluff #bts idolau #btscaretaker

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acesgroupchat · 4 years ago

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They march shoulder to shoulder, more than seventy thousand strong. Their feet beat perfect silent time on the polished stone floors. In death as in life their marshal leads them.

Father and son march side by side at the head of the column. Behind them, an army stretches in steadfast order, as far as the eye can see. Beside them, princesses, consorts, and ministers walk together, upright, proud, and certain. Together they come to the banks of the river. Together they go into the water, heads held high and steps in steady rhythm.

Lin Shu lets the water flow over his legs, swell against his chest, close over his head, and feels his soul washed clean. Beneath the water, his mother reaches out to take his hand.

The bright fields of the afterlife welcome them, and the makeshift camp of Chiyan’s dead becomes a bustling city. Her residents settle in and find themselves beginning to heal. Names, now restored, are hung with pride in doorways. The prayers of the living wind among them, bearing the faint perfume of incense in their wake. Older family members come to greet them and welcome them home. They are barely out of the river when Lin Shu raises his head and finds Tai Nai Nai standing before him, arms held out in welcome. She looks as frail as she had when he last saw her living, but her embrace is firm and certain.

It is all that was promised and more. Lin Shu watches as his parents settle into a new rhythm of social calls and easy activity. Aunt Yueyao is a frequent visitor, and Prince Qi joins her often, his wife and children tagging along. They are all eager for news of Tingsheng, and Lin Shu tells story after story, everything he knows of the last fourteen years, of Jingyan’s careful work and Tingsheng’s cautious joy. It is not the life that they had any of them expected or wished for, for Tingsheng or for themselves, but it is reason enough to hope, and for that they are all grateful. It is enough. It is perfect.

Even so, he finds himself walking often, to the edges of their little city, deep into the fields and along the riverbanks. His home is bright and full of easy conversation, a place of comfortable welcome. Beside the rushing waters is the only time he cannot hear the joyful laughter, which echoes in his ears everywhere he goes. He skips rocks through the current. Once, he thinks he sees one make it across to the black stone of the other bank.

He is on his way there when he turns a corner and finds himself somewhere else entirely. The faint scent of rot fills his mouth, and plum trees stretch before him as far as his eyes can see, full of a first delicate bloom. For a moment, it brings him to a stumbling halt. Not far from him, half sheltered under the branches of a tree, a figure in white turns toward him.

Lin Chen snorts, eyes sweeping over him. “It figures that you would be here. Grown bored again already?”

Mei Changsu takes one step towards him, then another and another. It is not far to walk, and Lin Chen meets him halfway.

It is easier, after that. His family home is open to him always, and he is there often, but just as often he finds himself wandering through the gardens, and through the various chambers and halls that are Lin Chen’s own, but which nevertheless open to him at the first thought, sometimes before he realizes exactly where his feet are carrying him. This is a source of endless amusement for Lin Chen, who has left off even feigning annoyance in favor of mocking Mei Changsu mercilessly for not realizing something that should, apparently, have been obvious.

“Really Changsu, when I said that the garden was closed to mortals what did you think I meant?”

“Fei Liu comes and goes as he pleases.”

Lin Chen snorts. “Fei Liu is the son of a nymph whose mother drowned herself in the river. He wouldn’t know mortality if it bit him.”

Fei Liu, who had been lounging on a branch above them, chooses this moment to throw most of an orange peel at Lin Chen’s head. Lin Chen grabs at his ankle, but Fei Liu springs up out of the branches, soaring away over the treetops and out of sight. Lin Chen watches him leave before settling back against the tree trunk in a lazy sprawl. Mei Changsu lets their shoulders press together, stares up into the crowding leaves above them. He finds, though, after a moment, that he is not quite finished with this conversation.

“I cannot be the only mortal you have ever brought here.”

He should not be able to feel Lin Chen roll his eyes, and yet he does. “First of all, I have never brought you anywhere. I cannot be held responsible for your trespassing. Second of all, just who do you imagine I would have brought here? This is my private garden, where I come to retreat from the burdens of mortal suffering. Letting mortals in here entirely defeats the point.”

Mei Changsu pauses. He is not particularly inclined to let Lin Chen accuse him of jealousy, but the question has been nagging at him for some time. “What of the others who have shared your bed? You have brought none of them here?”

Lin Chen, as expected, bursts out laughing. The trees around them shake, raining down leaves and petals on them both, and Mei Changsu feels himself shaking where Lin Chen’s shoulder is pressed to his. Lin Chen laughs for an unreasonably long time, slowly tipping sideways with the force of his mirth until he is sprawled across Mei Changsu’s lap, grinning up at him. Mei Changsu waits very patiently as Lin Chen collects himself, though he does not stop giggling even as he even as he dries his eyes on his sleeve.

“What others? Changsu, I didn’t even have a bed until you decided I needed one in order to nurse you properly.”

“You didn’t have a bed?”

“Why would I? You know I don’t sleep, Changsu, we’ve been over this.”

Mei Changsu purses his lips rather than answer, but Lin Chen, predictably, reads the answer on his face anyway and succumbs once again to gales of laughter, swamping them both in drifts of flower petals. Mei Changsu decides that perhaps he will pay his parents a visit after all.

And it’s better, like this. Dividing his time between his family home and Lin Chen’s ever-changing halls and gardens. It is a paradise. It is more than anyone could ask or wish for. It is almost perfect.

“You miss him,” says Lin Chen. It breaks the lazy stillness of the garden, and Mei Changsu is forced to open an eye. When no further elaboration appears forthcoming, he hums an inquiry.

Lin Chen waves a hand, a broad, expansive gesture that sets the plum blossoms rustling. “Your prince. You have been pining for him, just as he pines for you.”

“I don’t pine,” he protests. Lin Chen gives him a flat look.

“He sends prayers to me as well, you know. It’s a habit he picked up during the many, many years you were so judiciously refraining from telling him where you were. I rather thought he would stop once this matter was resolved, but instead he has taken to pestering me after your wellbeing. Every day sending along his hopes that you are well cared for, and not being made to pay some absurd toll for his good fortune, and that you have everything that you might wish here in the afterlife. He has left you a staggering number of offerings, as I know you are keenly aware.”

Mei Changsu opens his mouth, and finds he has no words to answer. He closes it again. It is true that Jingyan’s prayers have become something of a constant companion. They are a treasured part of his existence, a devotion he does not deserve but clings to anyway. It is also true that he is beginning to worry for Jingyan. He does not know how much time has passed for Jingyan since his second death, but the grief that laces his prayers has only grown, shows no sign of abating. It is painful, to think of Jingyan in pain, and here in the underworld there is absolutely nothing that he can do to console him.

“You miss him, Changsu. Is it such a terrible thing to admit?”

He shuts his eyes. “There is nothing I can do for him now.”

Lin Chen chuckles. “Look at you, so aware of your condition. How you’ve grown.” When Mei Changsu swats at him, he catches his hand, twines their fingers together. For a moment, there is quiet. Then,

“What if there were a way for you to return?”

The words go through him like lightning, and he sits up. It jostles Lin Chen, who glares at him. His posture is still relaxed, but there is a weight to his gaze.

“You said it was impossible.”

Lin Chen doesn’t answer. An orange falls from the tree, into Lin Chen’s outstretched hand, and he begins to peel it, the soft skin parting easily beneath his long fingers, forming a long coil.

“Lin Chen. You said that it couldn’t be done. What do you mean?”

“I said that I would not, not that I could not.” Lin Chen sighs, and sits up. “It is a difficult thing, for a mortal to return to life once they have left it. Almost impossible, but not completely, as you yourself have experienced. For those who are not mortal, the matter is somewhat simpler.” His eyes meet Mei Changsu’s and his gaze is very sharp. “You have not been strictly mortal for some time now, Changsu.”

He swallows. “And you would let me go, just like that, if I asked?”

Lin Chen’s free hand catches the back of his head, and tugs him into a kiss. His mouth is firm and certain, and Mei Changsu finds himself melting into it when, just as suddenly as it began, the kiss ends, and Lin Chen pulls back. His smile is gentle, but there is heat in his eyes. “I know you will come back.”

Mei Changsu clears his throat. “And you would not mind if…”

Lin Chen laughs softly. “I have known your heart since well before you first stumbled into this garden. If I had minded, we would never have begun. He seems like a sensible person, far more sensible than you, in any case.” The last of the orange peel comes free, and Lin Chen sets it down carefully by his hip. “Jealousy is not in my nature, Changsu. You miss him. He misses you as well, clearly. If you wish to return to him, you can.”

His hands are shaking, he realizes. He closes his fingers in his own sleeve and tries to collect his thoughts. For all that it seems impossible, there can be no question of his answer. “How do I get there?”

With an easy, graceful motion, Lin Chen splits the orange in his hand, six segments coming off into his palm. “These will allow you to walk among the living without pain.” He presses five of the segments into Mei Changsu’s hand, the last held between his fingertips. “When they run out, it will be winter. Return to me then.”

He presses the final segment to Mei Changsu’s lips, fingertips dragging across his mouth as the fruit slides inside. The delicate skin breaks against his teeth and juice floods his mouth, bright and sweet, tasting only of sunlight. As the garden fades around him, Lin Chen’s voice echoes in his ear.

“I will be waiting, Mei Changsu.”

#Nirvana in Fire #langya bang #mei changsu #lin shu #lin chen #lin yueyao #lin xie #grand princess jinyang #prince qi #xiao jingyu #it's new chapter sundaaaaaayyy

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the-darklings · 5 years ago

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—𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒍𝒚, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.4k+

summary: It would be endearing if it didn’t make him feel so uncomfortable.

notes: we’re here for sunshine!reader and mr stoic cuteness only.

‘black coffee’ drabbles: | 01 | ...

gif credit: [x]

“Would you like another—”

“No.”

Shit. He’s being an asshole. He knows he is.

But it’s hard to keep a steady tone when he can feel lingering anger scratching just under his skin. The way you jump slightly at hearing the sharpness of his refusal makes him feel almost guilty though.

“Sorry,” he mutters shortly, tightly, and watches from the corner of his eye how you squint at him thoughtfully, nonplussed. “I don’t need another coffee right now. Thanks.”

You balance a coffee mug in your hand, steady, experienced, “Hard case?”

And just like two weeks ago, he gives you the exact same reply as then, “No,” he says, and find it difficult to hold back his frustration. “I would simply appreciate it if people gave me room to do my fucking job.”

You sigh quietly, and the sound makes him look up at you. Knowing this damn town, you likely already know what he’s referring to. This new case is about as fun as pulling out teeth with some pliers. But that thought brings back memories of another life, another nightmare long since forgotten. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself when his nightmares drag him from rest almost every night.

“I’m sorry Mr Doughton is being difficult,” your hesitant voice breaks the silence, and there is genuine frustration to be found in the pinch of your mouth and the scrunching of your nose. “Sometimes people just like being a big problem, I guess. It’s not really fair on you though. You’re just trying to help. I’m really sorry.”

“You apologise too much,” he tells you firmly after a moment but only because it’s true. He’s noticed that you apologise far more often around the diner than you should. Especially when things are often the customers’ fault than your own, but you still choose to shoulder the blame. “It’s not like this is something you can change, nor is it your fault.”

You sway slightly from side to side—embarrassed at being called out most likely—and chuckle weakly.

“Oh, um, habit,” you confess softly, smiling slightly, and it still startles him how genuine your smiles always are. Warm. He can almost feel the tension between his shoulder blades ease a touch the longer he looks at it. “Sure I can’t get you anything else? You’ve been sitting here for hours.”

Yes, he has. Because he likes it here at Joey’s Diner more than anywhere else in town. He’s unsure why, exactly. The atmosphere is welcoming. The food, and especially the coffee, are all great but...

“I’m fine.”

Something flickers across your expression then—it’s so brief he almost misses it, but for a moment he can swear you look sad, and he doesn’t quite know what to make of that knowing stare before you blink and it’s gone. Your smile this time is less cheerful, but you nod your head and turn to go anyway.

“Hey,” he calls out suddenly, not quite sure why, and feel at an even bigger loss when you pause and glance back at him, expectant. “Thanks for—thanks for this,” he explains, gesturing vaguely towards the remains of his first order.

This time your smile is wider, closer to the bright beam he’s used to seeing, “Any time, detective.”

. . .

He loses track of time.

It’s easy in his line of work, and even easier when people involved in the case are being difficult, so he has to look for ways around certain obstacles.

“Hey, sorry to bother you but,” your familiar voice breaks through his concentration and he blinks rapidly, looking towards you. You stand in front of his booth awkwardly, cradling something carefully in your hands. “I can come back if you like—I just—”

“What is it?” he asks calmly, deciding to end your suffering now rather than prolong it. Besides, he’s curious what has you so nervous you suddenly have a hard time maintaining eye contact with him.

Exhaling sharply, you shake your head briefly and shuffle a few steps closer, placing the object in your hands on the table.

It’s a muffin. Bigger than the ones he’s used to seeing in supermarkets or cafes. It sits in front of him large and fluffy, openly inviting him to sink his teeth into it. He may not like sweets but this does look delicious.

His gaze moves slowly upwards and meets yours steadily.

“I—I baked it,” you explain hurriedly, and the worry in your voice is so clear it’s almost embarrassing. You would make a terrible liar, he can tell. In his line of work, people like you are a small miracle because your honest always trips you up. “More on the savoury side since I used—I used spice. You don’t have to try it but I thought—you haven’t had dinner and I still had one left and I figured it would be nice if you tried it since I know you don’t like sweets...sorry...”

You stop yourself after noticing the amused, patient look he’s directing your way, and a slight smile tugs his mouth upwards. The first one of the day, if he recalls correctly. He lets it fade slowly, and nods his head towards the empty seat on the other side of the booth.

You hesitate, fiddling with your fingers, and glance around the otherwise empty diner. It’s late, it’s raining, and it’s a Tuesday night. Somehow the fact that it’s just him left doesn’t surprise him much.

After another moment of hesitation, you carefully slide into the seat opposite and your wide-eyed stare would be funny if it wasn’t for the fact that you look like you’re about to be sick.

“So this is your special, huh?” he says conversationally, hoping that small talk will ease your nerves a bit. “For when you have your own place? It looks nice.”

Your laugh sounds a touch closer to hysteria than usual, and your knuckles are straining under your skin as you peer at him nervously. “I’m sorry if you hate it,” you say softly, like an apology. For some strange reason, those words grate on him more than he would care to admit. “I’m still learning and—well not everything comes out good but you have to experiment, right?”

Your tone implies that you’re not looking for his verbal opinion so he simply nods his head once, blinking a few times, and takes the muffin into his hand. It’s still somewhat warm and he subtly inhales.

He gets the spice right away but it seems like a pleasant mix from what he can tell so far. He sincerely hopes it will not be spicy to a point he may have to spit it out right in front of you. That would probably not go down too well.

You look like you’re holding your breath as he takes the first bite. He chews slowly, trying not to rush the experience while also mentally bracing himself for the worst.

Thankfully, his doubts are unfounded. The heady taste washes over his senses and he pauses, chewing even slower, letting the taste register properly. Much like you, it’s warm—he can taste that spice alright—but it’s soothing kind of warmth. A pleasant mix between savoury and sweet he hasn’t tasted before.

“It’s...good.”

You stare.

And then stare some more.

“Really?”

His eyebrow arches and he takes another bite as if to prove his point.

Your answering smile is so wide, so happy, it puts the sun to shame in its sheer intensity alone.

It would be endearing if it didn’t make him feel so uncomfortable.

He’s not used to people being so open with him, so carefree. If it’s not his demeanour, then it’s the tattoos, and if it’s not the tattoos, then it’s the fact that he’s a detective. Something inevitably always causes people to put their guard up around him. He’s so used to searching deeper, to decoding people—and trying to break those walls down—that seeing someone sitting right in front of him like an open book is...surreal. Damn uncomfortable too.

You laugh, breathless, still grinning widely at him, “That—I’m so happy you like it. If you like I can make you some more? I know you don’t like the ones the diner sells but I’m sure I can bring mine in for you at least once a week. I mean—I’ll definitely try... if you like?”

He swallows the bite he’s chewing, hums, his eyes snagging onto that beaming smile once again and he grunts half-heartedly, shrugging his shoulders. After a moment, he glances down at the table, blinking a few times as he stares at a random scribble in his notepad without really taking it in.

“Sure, why not? I appreciate it.”

. . .

an: so I still feel terrible so I’m sorry if this is equally as terrible (and OOC). Wrote this in like an hour and with minimal editing, so feel free to yell any mistakes @ me. I just miss these two lots, and writing for fun in general lol :’))

#detective loki #detective loki x reader #prisoners #detective loki imagine #jake gyllenhaal #fic: black no sugar

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bubble-tea-bunny · 5 years ago

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before you go

[sidon x reader]

author’s note: i swear this story wasn’t even meant to be like, that long, but i just kept adding scenes. hope you enjoyyy

word count: 16,475

PROLOGUE

Millennia have passed since the day the ruins were swallowed up by darkness, but the witch in those woods remembers it well. She sees it vividly in her mind’s eye like yesterday: thick trunks of towering trees, whose roots cling deep in the earth, extending their branches with their lush green leaves, growing closer and closer and closer until the last sliver of sunlight disappears, no longer welcomed on the forest floor.

The light isn’t missed. What creatures lay in hiding here thrive without it, nocturnal animals left to roam all hours of the day, surrounded by perpetual night. Torches scattered throughout the maze of this forest, hanging on sconces of crumbling stone walls and statues, are ignited by the daring adventurer trying to find their way to the center. But they never get far, turning around and using their trail markers to direct their way back out, and with the passing hours, the flames flicker and whither, dying down to embers.

No one has found the witch. Her hut rests deep in the woods, in a shadowy corner that most have failed to reach. The lack of disturbances means she can work without interruption. She tends to a small garden whose herbs grow beneath the dim light of a lantern strung up on a nearby branch. When they’re fully grown, she harvests then organizes them on a shelf, where they sit ready to be mixed into her newest elixir.

They work well for a good portion of the concoctions she creates: healing tonics, draughts of strength, sleeping potions for the restless and nightmare-riddled. She keeps them in tinted glass bottles with cork stoppers and knows exactly which elixir is stored where. The magic she practices is hardly sinister, and she’s content to keep this peace. The magic she practices is innocent, until one day, it isn’t.

She finds the recipe in an old leather-bound tome covered in dust. The language is old but she understands it (well, what still remains that hadn’t faded with time, that is). The book is vague about what the potion grants, but all she knows is that given what it asks for, it must be powerful. To create it would be crossing over into more harmful forms of magic, yet she can’t find it within herself to push away the biting curiosity to delve more into what she has discovered. The aged volume seems to pulse with life in her aged hands, exuding a power of its own that prevents her from putting it down and forgetting what she was seen.

Gathering the ingredients would be a difficult and lengthy process, but she’s learned to be patient. She wouldn’t be going out to collect them; they would come to her. And they do, steadily, in the form of the rare travelers with the intelligence and determination to venture further into the forest, closer to the middle, and closer to the witch’s hut.

She doesn’t hurt them. She won’t hurt them. And she says that to them quietly even though they can’t hear her, having passed out due to her sleeping potion. She only needs one thing, one little thing, if they would be so kind as to hand it over…

By the time the traveler wakes up, they’re back on the path illuminated by their own hand, and they can’t remember ever happening upon the witch. There are other bits too, other recollections they won’t be able to recall, though when (if) they finally realize that, they’ll be far from this place, and thoroughly at a loss as to what happened to that one corner of their brain where memories are hazy, like staring through fogged glass, aching to see what lies on the other side clearly, but unable to do so.

Those stolen memories stay with the witch now, radiant essences in purples and yellows and blues, floating and curling in their bottles. They’re pretty to watch. She lines them up, checks off the list of ingredients one by one in the tome: anger, empathy, happiness, innocence… All taken from the unfortunate souls who come into the dark woods. They don’t anticipate losing anything other than time in the day, and as far as they’ll be able to tell, that is the only thing they lose while exploring here. It’s a small mercy, the witch reckons, that they won’t notice.

She has only one ingredient left, but there has been no one to collect it from. It’s as though the universe understands that’s she is so close to being done, and has delayed the moment when she should find what she is searching for, building the tension, the suspense. For all the patience she has practiced for the centuries she has lived, she’s never felt antsier than this instant, the days passing like years. The lighting of torches signals the presence of another lone wanderer, but she doesn’t see those spots of orange flames.

Her frustration is palpable. and she sighs heavily. She can do nothing but wait.

———

The roar of the waterfall is a comforting white noise to Sidon, and it gently pulls him into the waking world at the break of dawn. His eyes crack open, serving witness to the rising sun washing over the water and painting the town in golden light. He’s always sluggish in the mornings, in no rush to push away the grogginess beckoning him back to sleep for a couple more minutes, or several, or maybe another hour if there’s nothing of note to attend to.

This morning, he nearly rolls over to continue sleeping, but his gaze passes over the folded parchment on the nightstand, and as if he’d been shocked, he sits up straight, fully alert. Reaching over to grab the letter, he opens it to reread it for—well, actually, he’s lost count of how many times he’s read it. He skims it, looks for the date mentioned to confirm that yes, that’s today.

It’s still early for most of the other Zora to be up, but those who are greet Sidon with a quiet good morning. He smiles and returns them all without stopping his stride. No one tries to get him to pause a moment for conversation, and he’s certain they all know where he’s going for his walking to be so purposeful. This has happened many times before, and when Sidon is set on something, he thinks little of anything else. Kayden especially understands this, for he grins as Sidon approaches the steps to the inn, already knowing why he’s there.

Kayden needn’t speak, only nudging his head to the side, in the direction of the beds. Sidon nods in thanks and quietly searches for his goal, footfalls silent so as not to disturb those slumbering. He finds it on the far end, separated from the others who have checked in for the evening, and he feels a large smile creeping onto his face, unable to be contained.

He sits on the edge of your bed, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. Your nose scrunches as the silky strands pass over the sensitive skin of your cheeks. Then your face relaxes again, and he thinks you’ve continued to sleep. He wouldn’t mind if that’s the case. He just wanted to see you, to feel you and know that you’re here again. And it would be enough to hold him over until you finally woke, and he would be graced with the sound of your voice.

It turns out he doesn’t have to wait, for you groan quietly and your eyes are brilliant even if only half-open with fatigue. You hum and it’s as if you’re trying to say his name, to question if it’s him, but you don’t have the energy to enunciate it properly. He understands perfectly anyway and says yes, it’s him, and he’s so happy you’re back.

He sets a hand on your face, being careful of his claws as he strokes your cheek. He’s considerably larger than you are, and the size of his hand emphasizes this fact more. You lay your own over his and hum again. It’s not another attempt to say his name or any other words. Rather, it’s one of contentment, almost a purr, and Sidon’s chest tightens and he can’t believe how much he can miss someone. You murmur that you’re happy your back too because home is where the heart is and you’d buried yours here a long time ago.

You yawn and stretch your arms, and he gives you time to wake up more fully. Once you’ve blinked away the last of the sleepiness, he stands and offers you his hand, asking if you would like to regale your adventures to him over breakfast. You grin and nod, accepting his hand to help you up.

Sidon won’t deny that he worries for you when you’re exploring. He knows you can fight, can take of yourself, but Hyrule is vast and there are dark corners with monsters even someone of your ability will struggle against. He says to spare no details of your journey so you don’t, recounting the close calls (of which there are more than he would like, though he would prefer none at all), and he calms himself down by assuring himself that you sitting across from him isn’t some figment of his imagination. You’re real. Though if that’s not enough, and he needs more proof to keep him grounded, he reaches across to feel your soft skin beneath his fingers.

It’s like he’s being told a bedtime story with the sense of epic your retellings contain, filled with obstacles and triumph, and he thinks he’ll dream of it tonight, dream of you being front and center, the hero trekking through the land on a quest. Not that he hasn’t already dreamed of you. Sometimes, when his heart is especially heavy and he’s laden with gloom to be so far from you, he dreams of calm waters and of you sitting at its shore, the low tide lapping at your feet and your toes curled in the cold dirt. Then you see him watching you and smile, beckoning him over, and he’s overcome with a sensation that it’s actually you he’s observing there, that you’ve stepped into his dream from wherever you are in Hyrule, reminding him no distance is too great to feel you are ever truly apart.

Of course, it’s all fanciful speculation with no bearing in reality, inspired by a love that makes him wax lyrical like he’s a natural born poet with one muse in mind (but he has no desire for any other because you’re the only one he needs). You don’t actually have the power to traverse through dreams, but it does feel like you when he sees you and interacts with you and Sidon figures that’s because his soul knows yours so well.

Being higher up in the mountains, the weather in Lanayru is more temperate, and you like to bask in the breeze and the sunlight from outside the town, away from the noise. Sidon joins you, and he admits to you that every now and then he comes out here while you’re away, but it doesn’t feel the same.

“This beauty is difficult to enjoy with no one to appreciate it with,” he remarks softly.

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder. “I saw the most incredible statues in Gerudo and thought the same thing.”

The two of you are perched on the edge of a small cliff overlooking the Zora River, where you aren’t going to be interrupted anytime soon considering it’s sizable distance from town. There were plenty of other wonderful areas from which to survey the strong current of water as it flows downstream, towards the wetlands, that are closer to Ruto Lake, but you like to come here because the air at the Bank of Wishes feels different somehow, in a way Sidon can’t delineate with words but he sees it in the sparkle of your eye when the sun shines over you just right.

Stepping onto this small section of leveled ground is to cross the threshold into a realm where things are not as they seem, and you’re privy to the revelation that this is where the strings of the world are tinkered with and manipulated. It pulls the sun and the moon across the sky, pulls the strings of a soul like a harp and the ensuing breathy sigh of a fondness newly discovered is the song. It pulls you and Sidon with threads wrapped around your fingers, guiding you here, and then towards each other. And Sidon loves nothing more than to hear you sing.

He’d stumbled across you once, having arrived at the bank before he did, and he nearly called your name but remained quiet once he realized you were preoccupied with a red container. The stems of blue nightshades are looped through the small ring on the thick golden band wrapped around the cylindrical vessel, which you’re taking extra care with securing. You continue to kneel next to it even after ensuring the flowers won’t slip out, and he can’t hear what you’re saying but he thinks he knows what words you whisper.

Then you push the container into the water, and it lands with a small splash. You stare as the current takes it around the bend, and when it’s out of sight, Sidon comes out from his hiding place. You turn around, eyes wide in surprise to be caught off guard, but you relax at the sight of him and Hylia’s blessing rests in the curve of your lips and he could live there forever. He understands the glow of those flowers was a piece of yourself and you’d wished for it to seek out the one you wanted to give it to, and the water fairy is constantly listening because he stands before you now, and his heart warms at your knocking of the front door, and he knows pretty blue nightshades wait on the other side for him to welcome home.

You point out a school of fish near the surface of the water that’s passing by, and Sidon watches them with you as he takes hold of your free hand resting in your lap, anchoring himself to the moment. He’d happily live out his existence here with you.

He promises one day you’ll travel through Hyrule together. He can’t easily leave Zora’s Domain because of his obligations as prince, and you understand, you do, and in return he wants to give you better, he wants to give you everything. But your soft smile lets him know that he is more than enough for you. This universe could fall away around you both and he’s not sure you’d notice.

“I’ll have my darling prince to protect me then,” you state teasingly.

“You will,” Sidon responds, equally playful, but then the tone shifts and the jest fades and as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, he assures you that he’d always keep you safe. He would gladly be your knight.

While he would like to spend every hour in your presence, that simply isn’t possible, and he reluctantly leaves you to your own devices as he attends to his duties. You have no issue filling that time with conversing casually with the other Zora and with travelers about where they plan to go next. It’s from conversations with the latter that you tend to draw inspiration for deciding your next point of interest.

A fellow Hylian shares the rumors of skeleton horses in the Tabantha tundra which show up in the middle of the night, their red undead eyes like omens of ill fate. It sounds scary, she says, but apparently they’re gone by morning. Not even bones are left. She’s intent to witness these creatures herself, and she’s stocking up well here in Zora’s Domain since it’s a far journey. The idea of skeleton horses certainly grabs your attention, but you don’t think you’re as intent to travel so far, since you’d just arrived from Gerudo.

The Goron in Coral Reef mentions that he had just visited Lurelin Village, the small fishing town on the southern coast. The weather’s a little warmer, a little more humid, but that could easily be alleviated by dipping into the ocean for a swim. He paints the picture easily for you, of the turquoise waves and white sand beaches. He exclaims that the seafood paella is like nothing you’ve ever eaten before, and your mouth waters merely thinking of what it would be like to taste. You’d heard of it before, but never had the opportunity to try it.

He laughs at the glazed look in your eyes, your thoughts on Lurelin Village’s famed dish. “I’m tellin’ ya, ya gotta go down there and order yourself some!”

You nod in agreement and yeah, you do need to go down there to try the seafood paella! The Goron guffaws again and pats you on the back—That’s what I like to hear!—but he’s strong and even the light clap between the shoulder blades nearly makes you tumble to the ground.

With your mind made up, you settle down in a quiet corner to take out your map and plot a route to the seaside town. It’s still in Necluda, which means the actual travel time to get there and back won’t be long at all. You could make the Dueling Peaks stable your halfway point and cut through the forests, heading east for a short duration until the trails begin leading further south. You wouldn’t be gone as long as you were last time, and perhaps you could learn to make the paella and buy the proper ingredients to recreate here for Sidon to try too. Yes, this is perfect!

You sit back and review what you’ve drawn out on the map and the notes you’ve written on the sides. This map had been a recent purchase, considering your old one had been torn to shreds after a run-in with bokoblins. As such, it lacks the messiness of your original copy, which contained multiple lines representing the routes you’ve taken on your travels, as well as even more notes scribbled on the sides with tips or reminders. While this new map is certainly easier to read due to the lack of pencil marks all over the place, it’s missing the charm. But you suppose that’s hardly going to be a problem as you continue to move around Hyrule and figure out new paths to take in order to see as much of the land as possible. Just so long as another monster doesn’t sink their teeth into it…

The clean state of this map also makes it simple for you to spot a section of the map you had marked with a circle and a question mark. Your brows furrow as you stare down at it, attempting to recall when you had done that. You could vaguely remember being told stories about ruins there when you’d been at one of the stables. It starts coming back to you then.

The stable master had brought it up when it had been late and you were half-asleep, prepared to head inside to sleep. He’d spoken of a patch of trees in northern Hyrule, past the Great Hyrule Forest, and it had no name. Only the ruins hidden within did. Thyphlo Ruins.

It’s dark in those woods, he warned. Really dark. Other travelers who had stopped to rest at the stable had shared their experiences of attempting to reach the center, to see what might be there, but none of them had succeeded. They say the dark does strange things to the mind, the stable master explains. And the shadows… You think you see things that aren’t actually there. Not many have the mental fortitude to withstand the strain of being surrounded by pitch black for as long as is required to arrive at the middle of the labyrinth. You’d never heard of anyone that had gotten that far, so who’s to say there was anything to find there?

But… there had to be, right? It would make sense to if not assume, then at least hope something did, indeed, lie at the center, because for all the trouble one has to go through, a prize at the end, be it a treasure chest or a priceless artifact or some such valuable object, would be adequate recompense, especially if it came at the cost of near insanity. The world would show itself to be awfully cruel if the ruins had no reward to proffer, and while you consider yourself to be optimistic, you also understand that the world can be awfully cruel and you can’t rule out the possibility that a successful journey to the innermost parts of that forest may leave you empty-handed.

The more risk-averse would turn away from the prospect of exploring that mysterious patch of tightly packed trees, but you’ve the drive and determination to dive into it, to push through what might hide behind large trunks and mossy stone columns, and reach the end. You wouldn’t be satisfied with mere stories of others’ experiences. You want to have one of your own.

It’s early afternoon when Sidon is dismissed, leaving him with the rest of the day to spend with you. You’re sitting by the cooking pot at the inn, and the smell of baked apples reaches his nose the closer he gets. You don’t notice him because you’re preoccupied with what he registers is a map, which you hold in one hand, a slice of apple in the other. His mouth opens to announce his arrival, but his feet coming into your periphery causes you to glance up. A spark flickers behind your eyes and you could illuminate the whole of Zora’s Domain and that flash of love which steals his breath away because that’s for him, all for him are the dots of light in the corners of his vision whenever he should gaze at the sun.

He sits down next to you and points at the map. Planning your next adventure?

You smile and nod enthusiastically, showing him the route you’ve outlined for yourself. He’s first drawn to the lines leading south, towards the coast, but you pull his attention to the one trailing north instead, and his own smile begins to falter as he traces it back to the smaller but still dense cluster of trees above Great Hyrule Forest.

Though he’s not an adventurer like you, he’s heard his fair share of stories regarding the woods surrounding Thyphlo Ruins. The curiosity evident in the voices of those with a biting curiosity to travel within that mystifying landmark he fails to understand, for he feels no such pull, no such urge. The way he looks at it, if there is anything hiding there in the darkness, chances are, they don’t want to be found. And he’s perfectly content to not go looking.

But he is not you, and that is not how you look at it. You sound excited to have finally settled upon your next destination, and he feels bad that he can’t join you in your elation, not when his mind festers with concern for your wellbeing. He forces the smile back onto his face and does his best to support you in any other way that he can, finding it in the delight you exude at the prospect of continuing your exploration of the vast land of Hyrule. He’s glad that you’re doing something which you truly enjoy, and he tries to focus on that instead of where your passion is bringing you now.

Even for all of that, you know something is bothering him. He shouldn’t be surprised. You know what he is thinking, what he is feeling, by the small changes in his expression, by his nervous swallowing, and most of all by his slight hesitation to meet your eyes right away when you turn to him. He can’t shake the shame that creeps up on him that he can’t be as excited as you are, a notion that can’t be alleviated by the fact that you would never fault him for anything like that. He sees it in your small sympathetic smile and feels it in the warmth of your hand as you reach over to set it atop his.

“I promise I’ll stay safe,” you say, but you can only promise so much because to go somewhere that dangerous, there’s no guarantee of complete safety. Perhaps instead you voice it as a form of comfort, a reminder that Sidon needs every now and again that you’re being careful, and how could you not be when in the days spent traveling from place to place, your mind is filled with thoughts of returning here, to him, to home?

“I wish I could go with you.” He might not understand that yearning to explore the unknown, but he would venture into that forest without delay if it meant he could protect you, watching your back and the shadows outside your line of sight. He hates the idea of you being in there alone.

You squeeze his hand once in a gesture of reassurance. It mirrors how his heart squeezes as you look upon him so lovingly.

“I do too,” you remark quietly. "But we’ll have our own adventures one of these days. I’ll even let you mark them out on the map.”

Sidon smiles more genuinely now, beginning to relax. You’re trying to steer the conversation away from anything harrowing and he understands and appreciates that you are. It would do neither of you well to linger on any of the what-ifs. And he trusts you, truly, to be vigilant. You have been this long, and you’ve always come back to him.

As you outline your plans to him, he feels more at ease with the caution and preparation you’re clearly practicing. By the time the day of your departure rolls around, there’s only a small inkling of worry left in him (though that would always be there regardless of where you traveled).

Your evening spent at the inn isn’t a typical occurrence. You’d only done it because it was late when you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to disturb Sidon, no matter how many times he told you he wouldn’t mind. After that first night, you’d stayed with him in his own quarters, and it’s here that he laments how quickly the days have passed that you should already be leaving him.

Once you’ve checked that you have everything you’ll need for your travels, you close your bag and set it down on the table in the corner. Sidon is watching you from where he sits on the edge of his bed, and you walk over to him, taking the hand he holds out so he can pull you closer gently. His arms wrap around you as you stand between his legs, and you rest your own around this neck. You don’t look down at him and he doesn’t look up, for given that he towers above you when standing, in this position, both of you are eye to eye.

The world turns so slowly without you, he bemoans. I wish I could hold it in my hand to speed it up and bring you back to me sooner. You have wished for the same and smile wistfully at those sentiments he seems to have plucked from your brain. How must your days have felt before you met me? you tease, not really expecting an answer, but he gives one. Like eternity, he confesses.

He walks you to the very edge of town, and you linger at the end of the bridge, the walkway beneath your feet a soft blue accented by the glow of the luminous stones set in the pillars and arches. You stare at the trail leading away from Zora’s Domain and back towards the mainland, and Sidon’s staring down at you, and he doesn’t miss the pause in your stance, like you’re about to put one foot in front of the other and begin your journey but can’t find it within you to actually move.

“Hey.” He’s gentle as he draws your attention to him. “Are you okay?”

You purse your lips and he thinks for a moment you’re going to shake your head, but then you take him by surprise as you lunge towards him and hug him tightly. He’s quick to reciprocate, bringing an arm around your shoulders to hold you near. You murmur that you’ll miss him and your words are sunshine because he melts more and more with every syllable. Now it’s his turn to reassure you—he’s going to be here when you get back, and no stretch of land or water would ever be enough to separate you. Just think of me when you lay down to sleep, he says, and I’ll never feel too far away. If you had changed your mind and decided to stay here with him, he would welcome you gladly, of course. But he knows you won’t do that. It’s not in your nature. You hear the calls of the wild and yearn to follow them. Now go have a new adventure.

He stands there until you’re out of sight, and his walk back across the bridge is unhurried. You had wanted an early start, and by this point, the sun hasn’t quite yet revealed itself fully from behind the horizon. The fog above the water, which had been thick in the cold hours of the night, is starting to dissipate due to the growing warmth. Sidon lifts his gaze to the sky. It will be a nice day today, judging by the weather.

The duties he has to attend to as prince of the domain aren’t sufficient to make the time pass faster. He sits in meetings with his father and Muzu and occasionally the head of the guard, head leaning in his hand. His mind is elsewhere, and he stares out at the town like he might see you down there, waiting for him to be dismissed so he can join you.

“Sidon.” Muzu calls him sternly, the tone behind it slightly scolding.

Sidon blinks and reels his thoughts back in to the discussion, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in an effort to become more alert. His lazy movements betray how close he had been to falling asleep as well as any lack of guilt to be caught daydreaming. Muzu huffs and shakes his head but doesn’t bother to address his inattention. This isn’t the first instance this has happened, and the one solution would simply be to move on. Sidon’s thoughts would inevitably slip away to something (someone) else, and no number of reminders to stay focused would change that.

It’s also why King Dorephan isn’t irritated with Sidon’s behavior. While it’s part of Sidon’s disposition to be chipper, that attitude only persists during meetings (which even Dorephan will admit can be boring) if you’re in town. You give him something to look forward to when they finally adjourn, and he’d be energized for the entire duration. But the story is different when you’re gone, and though Sidon is happy to spend time with his friends, he’d enjoy it more with you around.

He understands what Sidon feels for you, and he knows there would be no stopping the drifting of his mind in your direction as he no doubt wonders where in Hyrule you are currently. As if on cue, he notices Sidon’s attention shifting again, eyes apparently staring at the wall but Dorephan has a suspicion Sidon isn’t admiring the architecture.

“I think we can stop here for today,” Dorephan speaks up.

Muzu trails off, confused and missing the look shared between the king and prince. Dorephan nods at Muzu, a motion of finality, and the advisor stands, bowing before making his leave.

“I’m sorry,” Sidon apologizes, and there is some guilt laced with it.

Dorephan grins and shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You can’t help where your heart pulls you. The mind invariably follows.”

Sidon smiles slightly too, thankful that his father is sympathetic. He’d always been less strict than Muzu. Sidon stands and bows, about to follow Muzu out, but Dorephan halts his departure as he asks if you’ll be back soon. Sidon shrugs, for you hadn’t specified how long you’d be away (you tend not to, since even you don’t know how long your trips would be). He sighs instead and it’s rife with longing. She could return tomorrow and that wouldn’t be soon enough.

The days are merely the rising and setting of the sun, and the nights a constant reminder of you. The crescent moon is your smile and it guides Sidon across the threshold from the waking world to that of dreams. He wonders if you’ve followed his advice, to think of him as you fall asleep, and when he dreams of you, he’s sure that you have.

He receives no correspondence from you, and while odd at first, he isn’t bothered by it. You’re busy traversing Hyrule, and once you find an inn to settle down at for the evening, you’re probably too tired to write. He understands. Usually when you do send a letter, it’s with the date of your return, which is never too far off from the day that a courier hands Sidon the folded piece of paper. So that’s what he looks forward to, what he uses as a way of surmising that you would be coming to Zora’s Domain. If the courier is in town, he is watching closely, stomach buzzing with anticipation, only to be left disappointed when the messenger leaves, and he is empty-handed.

But he repeats to himself that as the days crawl along, the absence of letters isn’t worth fretting over. Sometimes, you don’t send one at all, and he isn’t aware of your presence here until the morning or night of, when he spots you walking around town, asking other Zora if they have seen him. He supposes he’s just grown used to the messages, for you had been sending them during your travels with increasing regularity. To receive none now is a disruption to the routine, but it was nothing more than that.

And it works for a while, convincing himself that you’re preoccupied with your exploration and perhaps have decided to take the long route back to Zora’s Domain. Though if this turns out to be the case, he does wish you would have sent something, at least to let him know you’re okay. Not that he doesn’t doubt you’d be careful, but he’d always worry about you in some capacity, a small inkling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t disappear until you were here with him again.

The morning that his concerns come to a head, and he actually starts to fear something has happened to you, is, coincidentally, the day you return. Muzu is the one to inform him, having seen you walk into Coral Reef the moment it opened. Sidon is quick to descend to the lower levels of town, every rushed step synchronized with the beating of his heart and he can barely contain his zeal, his happiness, his relief that you are back and you are safe. Because he won’t deny that this particular journey had gone on long enough without communication to warrant serious distress.

All the emotions welling up within him come out in a breath of near disbelief to find you right where Muzu had said you would be. Any tension he had felt uncoils and a sense of calm permeates his being from the top of his head down to his toes. His chest tightens because he’s missed you so much and you are back and the clocks tick at their normal pace once more.

You descend the steps of the general shop and as you come nearer, Sidon sighs your name and he has missed the way it felt upon his tongue. He waits for you to return it, to gaze up at him with that charming grin and whisper his name or shout it because you’re so excited but it wouldn’t matter either way because all he cares about is that he gets to hear you utter it.

But you don’t. You don’t run into his arms, don’t light up at the sight of him. Rather, you walk up to him at a leisurely pace, seeming to stop in front of him less because you’re elated to see him and more because he’s merely blocking your path. You tilt your head back to look up at him but you have no reaction to the toothy smile on his face. For reasons Sidon can’t explain, his expression refuses to fall, though deep down he knows something is off. The smile remains, however, the last vestiges of a hope that he’s just imagining those things and nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.

“Um…” Your voice is tentative, like you’re choosing words carefully, like you’re not sure of what to say. He catches the brief drop of your eyes to his grin before you lift them again to meet his own gaze, and you shake your head as if to tell him that if he’s looking for someone, it’s not you. It can’t be you. “I’m sorry, but… do I know you?”

———

II.

Sidon’s smile dims, caught off guard by the question. You continue to stand there, expecting a response, and after a few seconds of silence, you raise a brow. But then he flashes another smile and lets out a small chuckle.

“That’s funny, [Name].”

You’re only joking, surely, pretending to not know who he is. His mind refuses to consider anything but, despite the fact your face isn’t breaking out into a grin, unable to keep up the charade any longer. When you hear him say your name, you don’t look comforted by it, you look confused. With brows drawn together, you shake your head again.

“Have we met before?”

Any semblance of joy on his face finally ebbs to nothingness, and his confusion matches yours. His heartbeat quickens but not in a good way, as realization dawns on him that you aren’t messing with him. You are entirely genuine, treating him like a stranger and thoroughly apologetic that he seems to recognize you and you can’t remember where you might have seen him in the past.

“It’s me…” he starts quietly, as if those are the key words and a section of your brain will light up in recognition. “It’s Sidon.”

You still watch him blankly, your demeanor unchanging, not picking up anything special to hear the name. But then your expression does change, your eyes widening after a few moments, and he inhales sharply, prepared for you to acknowledge him and maybe this time, drop the act and the joke and the two of you will spend the rest of the day catching up, enjoying the presence of the other. And he waits with bated breath for you to thrust yourself into his arms and for the strength of impact to steal that breath away as you express how much you missed him.

You don’t do any of that.

“Prince Sidon?” you exclaim. Sidon doesn’t nod to confirm it but you bow anyway, bent at the hips and staring down at the ground for a second then standing back up straight. “I-I’m sorry I don’t remember us meeting. Please forgive my forgetfulness, your highness.”

You wring your hands nervously and Sidon doesn’t want any apologies because you shouldn’t have to offer any. The bated breath leaves him in a silent and shaky exhale as the reality of the situation sets in. This isn’t a joke. The way you’re acting is authentic. You’re staring at him with no ounce of familiarity, and the look in your eyes reminds him of any other traveler who passes through Zora’s Domain and finds themselves anxious and unprepared to be in the presence of the prince. And it shouldn’t be like this. You aren’t just any other traveler, not to him. Though how could he expect you to know that now?

You’re still waiting for him to speak, hoping that he won’t be annoyed. But he isn’t. He could never be. Not with you. So he shakes his head, forcing himself to smile just a little, a polite one to put you at ease. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We all forget things sometimes.”

You visibly relax, shoulders drooping after being tensed those several long beats. Sidon doesn’t say anything more, and you have nothing else to add either, so you clear your throat, a failed attempt to break the awkward air hanging between you.

“Er… well… if I may excuse myself, then…” Your request for dismissal is shy and Sidon’s heart is twisting because this is how you acted the first time he’d ever met you, and the memories are fond but that’s how they should have stayed. Just memories.

“Of course.” He stands to the side to give you room to walk past him, and you bow again, though not as deep as the first, before skirting around him.

He stares at your retreating form, understands that it’s you who’s walking away yet at the same time, it doesn’t feel like it is. The one he has conversed with might have your eyes and your hair but perhaps it wasn’t actually you. It made no sense for it to be. Delight fills your gaze when you see him and it’s complemented by a wide smile as he brings you close and threads his fingers through the soft strands of your hair. But who he has just spoken with held no such delight in their eyes, and there was no big grin to behold, and they never came closer than a respectful arm’s length, clearly not sharing in the expectation that Sidon would hold them near and tangle his fingers in their hair.

No matter how many ways he tries to rationalize that he’d been mistaken, that it wasn’t you he’d spotted exiting Coral Reef, he won’t ever be able to deny the way his chest had tightened when he saw you, when he heard you speak though you used the words of a stranger. And he still feels the tug to follow after you, to get you to admit you have been joking and while it gave him a scare, he admires your commitment but now, life can go on as normal.

However, that’s not what would happen. Your reactions couldn’t be faked. He could implore you all he wants, to remember. He could beg you to dig around and uncover that corner of yourself, the place where he resides and where you understand how much you love him. He wants you to know he’s not just a prince, he’s your prince, and you mean the world to him. He wants you to remember it all, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach to know that you don’t. You can’t.

He’s at a loss as to how to handle these circumstances. Never has he been faced with something like this. The biggest question on his mind is how this happened. It’s not as though he could simply ask you. As far as you were concerned, you aren’t missing any memories to begin with. This was the work of some form of magic, surely. But it was none that Sidon had ever heard of. He’s in dire need of answers, but the only one who might know anything, as well as the only one he trusts enough to help him figure it out, isn’t in the domain currently. Sidon doesn’t know when he will be, but until the day his friend crosses that bridge into town, he is left waiting.

You stick around for a few more days, and Sidon finds himself falling back into the habit of searching for you. Before, he’d approach you the moment he spotted you, maybe even sneak up and surprise you if he felt particularly playful. But now when he notices you speaking to other travelers or having your weapons repaired at the blacksmith’s workshop, he keeps his distance. He stays far enough away that you can’t tell he’s staring intently in your direction, observing your sweet smile and straining his ears to listen to your laugh. All the while, he misses the time he’d been able to elicit those reactions from you, and his chest would swell with pride whenever he was successful. He wore your love for him like a badge, a reward of the highest honor. It’s practically impossible for him now to comprehend that he has been set aside to the margins, a thought far from your mind, because you have never left the center of his own and would never leave it.

It dawns on him one mid-morning that despite the hand fate has dealt, he’s not being prevented from doing those things which he had carried out with great pleasure when you looked upon him with so much love. He could try to make you smile, make you laugh, and perhaps the embers of forgotten flames might flicker to life.

You’re settled down by the cooking pot, drawing and scribbling on your map. Sidon approaches quietly to avoid startling you, but you don’t notice him. He ponders what he should say to you, what might make for polite and casual conversation. He has to treat you like a stranger, and it hurts him to do because as he watches you, he sees his whole life sitting there. And he could never be angry with you when you finally slide your eyes over to him and the fondness isn’t returned because you can’t know that he’d witnessed that all slip away the moment your memories were stolen. But he doesn’t know what to be angry at so he’s angry with himself, and he swallows the lump in his throat and tells himself it’s time to focus on you, just you, because you’re what matters.

He points to the map you hold. “You’re a traveler?”

You nod in lieu of replying verbally. He can surmise you’re nervous. So he smiles gently as he asks if he can join you.

“O-Oh, yes, of course!” You scoot over to make room for his much larger frame and he inserts himself into the spot rather easily. It all starts to feel familiar for him.

He glances over your shoulder at the map with its pronounced creases from being folded and unfolded. There are additional marks which have been added since you’d last been here, but he knows it’s the same copy because of the line drawn from the domain towards the south, to Lurelin Village. He addresses said route, inquiring if you’ve visited or planned to soon.

This pulls back the floodgates and with a few extra questions from Sidon to steer the conversation, you’re gushing to him about your interest in exploring Hyrule. You tell him of where you’ve gone and where you’d like to go, and he listens attentively, nodding and humming intermittently to show he’s following along. He can’t contain his little grin as he senses the passion in your voice and he already knows these things, your love for exploration and the vastness of the land. He knows all these places you have been to and the stories associated with each one. But he hangs on every word anyway like he’s heard none of this before and you’re so eloquent and heartfelt and he has missed the closeness of it all, as you open up to him.

Then your string of tales wanes. I’ve told you all the exciting parts, you reason. And you laugh nervously, apologizing for rambling as long as you had and not allowing much space for Sidon to talk. But he laughs with you and says it’s okay, he doesn’t mind. He prefers to listen. He’s so genuine as he looks at you that you have to look away for a second, cheeks warming.

With a plaintive sigh, you lift your head to survey what parts of the town you can see from the inn. The sun is setting and the sky is shifting from dark blue to orange.

“I don’t know why,” you begin, eyes narrowed as you stare into the distance, at the gleam of luminous stones set within the pillars as night falls, “but I always find myself coming back here after my journeys. It’s a special attachment that I can’t really explain.”

Sidon’s eyes are glassy but luckily you fail to notice because you’re not facing him. A heavy weight drops into his stomach and he wants to tell you he loves you and that there had been a point where you loved him too and that’s why. That’s why you feel the tug deep down to end every expedition here, why a part of you has made it instinct to call this place your starting point, your base, your home. Everything leads back to him and you’re so close but not close enough. You could always be closer.

You glance at him, and you’re none the wiser to the tears he has willed away, and your soft smile makes his chest tighten. For a second he might believe that things are normal, the way they were, and you’ll suggest the two of you watch the sun disappear from the outskirts of the domain where there isn’t as much light to interfere with the view. But he knows things are not normal and those won’t be the words to leave your mouth next so he tells himself you’ll be his view this evening, as the setting sun illuminates your features, painting your skin with orange hues and swirling in the depths of your eyes where it slumbers until the next day when you should wake, and the world will follow on your heels.

Sidon is alone in his bedchamber tonight, and the idea is uncomfortable, that you aren’t with him despite being in the domain. Suddenly his room feels even lonelier.

The moon hangs high in the sky and bathes the cold stone floor in light as well as kisses the expanse of Sidon’s scales as he remains near the window to stare out at the blackened waters below. He’s too preoccupied contemplating the events of today to try going to sleep. What rest he may manage to obtain will surely be restless, and he doesn’t consider that any better than not sleeping at all. Sometimes you liked to stay up to admire the moon, and he wonders if you’re doing that now.

He hadn’t talked with you for long, but it had really, genuinely felt good to hear your voice because he had missed you, during those few weeks apart. It lifts his spirits to see you walking around town. Your presence is the only thing that can pull him out of his slumps, its absence what put him there in the first place. He likes being around you because you make him want to sprout wings and fly, and you would always have that power over him, with your memories or no. He feels like he’s falling in love with you again (not that he’d ever stopped). Maybe you’ll fall in love with him again too.

You’ve set your sights on Lurelin Village, and you’re the one to instigate the conversation as you trot up to Sidon, noticeably more relaxed now, and excitedly tell him of your plans to go to the coastal town next. He mirrors your zeal as he envisions the bright blue waters and the warm sand. He’d like to swim there one day, he confesses to you. But since he can’t right now, he asks that you have fun for him.

Sidon has trouble masking emotions, and sometimes the strongest ones can slip through. That’s the only explanation he has for why you become bashful during an otherwise casual chat. Because he can’t hide his gaze of admiration and love for you no matter how hard he tries and maybe you’ve picked up on that. He ponders if you see glimpses of another life reflected back in his eyes where you aren’t merely guessing if he means to stare at you in that way because you are why that affection fills his being as he observes you.

You have already left Zora’s Domain for Lurelin Village when Link saunters into town on a gloomy afternoon. A week separates your departure and his arrival. Sidon greets him at the bridge and they make lighthearted banter over lunch. It’s not until they’re full, unable to eat another bite of their wildberry crepes, that Sidon finally brings up more serious topics. Namely, the situation with you.

Link listens closely as Sidon talks, eyes narrowed in concentration because there’s a problem to be solved and Sidon can’t solve it by himself. But Link is at a similar loss as to how this could have happened. He shrugs helplessly and sits back and says if this is some form of magic, he hasn’t ever heard of it before. I’ve never known there to be magic that could manipulate the mind.

Sidon is disappointed that he’s still stuck at square one, but he isn’t mad. They are out of their depths here. They have no idea how to combat that which is unknown to begin with. He speculates perhaps you had sustained a head injury, but that hypothesis doesn’t find any footing given that if that were correct, you should’ve lost more than just your memories of him. Link nods silently along, giving Sidon the space to think out loud.

With a heavy sigh, Sidon slides his eyes over to the Veiled Falls visible through the large windows and shakes his head, and he’s quiet as he divulges that he feels burdened by failure. He hadn’t been there for you like he promised. And you might have come back to him as you have always come back to him, but this time you didn’t come back to him whole. He should’ve gone with you. Then maybe whatever had happened wouldn’t have, and he wouldn’t be having this conversation, heavy with regret and melancholy hindsight.

Link hates to see his friend like this. The picture of the Zora prince before him is far from the Sidon he knows. Sidon’s the one to pick others up when they’re down but Link understands that the tables are turned now, and he is in need for the favor to be returned. Link has met you several times, when your stays in the domain have overlapped. It’s abundantly clear to him how much you mean to Sidon, and he almost feels as though he is sharing in the distress no doubt settling in Sidon’s entire being.

She wouldn’t blame you, Link asserts. Sidon’s movements are sluggish as he blinks and turns towards him. Neither of you could’ve predicted this.

Sidon agrees, silently, that that is true. But it does little to make him feel better, though he appreciates Link’s efforts.

At failing to garner a response from Sidon, Link purses his lips and picks at what remains of the crepe on his plate, pushing around a wildberry with his fork. He looks from his food to Sidon and back again, his mind a flurry as he racks it for some sort of solution. Granted, there couldn’t be many. Whatever had affected you had to be powerful, and there would only be so many methods to counteract it. The odds seem insurmountable but Link isn’t willing to give up because he doubts Sidon isn’t willing either. When it comes to you, Sidon is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay. Whatever it takes…

Slowly, Link halts his poking and prodding of his food, eventually abandoning the fork entirely and leaving it stuck upright in the thickest part of the crepe. He reaches out to the glass of water to his left to take a sip and sneaks a glance up at Sidon, who isn’t looking directly at him, still staring beyond Link to the windows. Even without meeting his gaze directly, Link senses the misery. Sidon’s desperate.

But desperate enough to…?

Yes. The answer is yes because Link knows Sidon would lay down his life for you if it came to that, and so the idea Link is hesitating to share despite the fact it must be the only solution would be a small price to pay for your wellbeing. And what kind of friend would Link be to withhold anything that might help?

So he tells Sidon there might be a way to fix this, and he knows there’s no turning back when Sidon finally faces him and there’s the slightest light in his gaze, the flash of hope kept tempered in case the proposed solution goes nowhere and he be left even more disappointed than before. But Sidon would hold onto it tight because you’re the gleam of sunshine in the center of his eye and he would never let go of you.

There’s this statue… Link begins. There’s a statue in Hateno Village with magic of its own. It’s strong, and no one is sure how it works or where the magic comes from. But if one makes a request to the statue, the wish is granted, regardless of what it is. If you want the water to turn green, it’ll happen. No one’s tried to ask for anything so ridiculous, of course, not that there was any need. Those aware of the statue’s existence are aware of its power and do well not to make absurd requests for the sake of witnessing just how powerful the statue is said to be.

Link ends the explanation with the remark that this is what could give you your memories back, could make you remember Sidon. But he tacks onto that one final statement, more quietly: I think it might be the only way.

Sidon keeps silent as he mulls over what he’s learned. Whatever magic was involved with that statue, it must be dark, and while he might initially be opposed to dabbling in dark magic, the circumstances are too dire for him to be immediately reluctant. As it stands, he is giving it serious thought. Link had sounded confident that going to the statue would work, and that’s good enough for Sidon to agree that this would be worth looking into. However, Link’s quiet admission that this was the only solution spoke for consequences less than favorable, and while Sidon knows to expect as much considering the forces they’re reckoning with, Link’s tone had been dismal, as if to warn Sidon to be very, very careful.

Link is watching him closely now, and he takes a deep breath, feeling like he’s about to break a hundred years of silence when it’s only been around a few minutes.

“What does the statue ask for in return?”

The question was going to come up inevitably, but Link still delays answering. His hesitation to reply already speaks volumes. It takes a piece of your soul. It wants a slice of your mortality. He forces the words out, though it pains him to voice the suggestion. He wouldn’t ever want Sidon to surrender those things, whether it was just a piece or the whole. That was to surrender a literal part of himself, and he could never get it back. But ultimately, it was Sidon’s decision what to do, and as Link sits there, lets his words ruminate in the prince’s mind, he knows what Sidon will decide. Like he’d said prior, all of it, in the wider scope, is a small price to pay for you.

Sidon nods. He’ll go before the statue.

With his mind made up, the next course of action is figuring out when he can leave town to make the trip to Hateno. He would do it overnight and do his best to return to the domain as soon as possible the following day. He would try to make the journey there and back without stopping for rest but he knows that wouldn’t be possible because while he could swim via the Zora River, the distance from there to Hateno is still too large to cover at once. He would sleep enough to ensure he wouldn’t fall over and pass out from exhaustion, but nothing more. He couldn’t be gone for long.

The tail end of Link’s visit nearly overlaps with yours, but he misses you by hours. He leaves in the morning, and you arrive at noon. Sidon spots you at the inn, where you’re sitting on one of the beds, observing the hilly expanse of Upland Zorana and the Veiled Falls. The town is elevated high enough that the spray of water at the waterfall’s base can’t reach, but if it did, Sidon’s sure it would feel refreshing.

He calls your name gently and you look over once you hear it, giving him a curt smile before returning your attention to the scenery. He sits on the edge of the bed, giving you your space, and gently so as not to jostle you. The water beds are quite squishy.

“How was Lurelin Village?” he asks, and he’s smiling, prepared for the excited ramblings of your most recent escapade.

But he doesn’t get that. All he gets is a noncommittal shrug, and this leaves him rather bewildered. He might’ve been less so had you followed it up even with some simple and vague remarks as It was good or I had fun. It’s the complete silence that is out of the ordinary. He continues with another question, attempting to start a conversation. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

When he asks this, you shrug again, but you must sense that he doesn’t consider that a good enough answer at all (especially after the first shrug) so you elaborate. “I did.”

Sidon’s brows furrow but you don’t notice. Are you mad at him? He has no idea why you would be. You were in perfectly good spirits around him before you’d left Zora’s Domain, and he hadn’t seen you until you came back today. There was no opportunity for him to do anything that might arouse that resentment in you, not that he would ever try to do that. He can’t recall ever acting in a way that angered you. Instead, he owes it to the fact you may just be tired from the traveling. Once he considers this a possibility, he starts to feel a little guilty that he may have just interrupted you as you were about to take a nap.

You exhibit no signs of wanting to talk, staying silent and facing forward. With a quiet sigh, Sidon says he’ll let you get some rest because you must’ve had a long journey. He stands and walks back to the front steps of the inn and you make no move to stop him.

Sidon plays the interaction between you two over and over in his head that night. Sure, it really could have been that you were exhausted and that’s why you acted like you did. But he’s also sure that if that were true, he wouldn’t feel that nagging feeling in his chest that something is different. He knows you incredibly well, firstly. Secondly, this scenario reminds him of the worry he’d felt when you were away from the domain for longer than usual, and your return had quelled it up until he learned you had forgotten who he was, proving his concern had merit. Now he knows to give the benefit of the doubt to his instinct, because though his brain might reason nothing strange is afoot, his gut is pointing him elsewhere.

The following morning he finds you in the same spot, but you’re now sitting on the end of the bed, head resting atop your knees, which you’ve drawn to your chest. Sidon hesitates to go to you, not wanting to upset you again if it turns out that you truly had been tired, but he can’t prolong talking to you. He has to figure out whether it had been your lack of rest that made you abnormally wordless or if there was something more going on.

Good morning. He greets you in a hushed tone for your sake, not wanting to scare you. There was no one else in the inn he had to take care not to wake up.

To respond with a shrug is, evidently, too much energy for you now. Your eyes flicker to the side to glance at him just for a second, before they slide back to watch the waterfall. He sits on the bed next to yours, settling down at the end. For a few minutes, you observe the water together and the silence is almost comfortable. Sidon pretends the day is like any other, the two of you watching the current flow, winding its way between high cliffs. If you were closer to the river, you’d spot fish.

The moment of mere pretend is swept away by the wind that blows through the inn. Sidon turns his head to stare at you on the other bed, where you’ve not appeared to move an inch. This cathartic nature is wholly uncharacteristic for you, and he could hardly believe that who he’s seeing now is you, who have always been so energetic.

“How was your adventure at the beaches down south?” Sidon has accepted that he will need to be the one to carry the discussion along.

“It was fine.”

This is a verbal reply at least. But it leaned neither towards a positive connotation nor a negative and Sidon doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s even inclined to say that you sound apathetic. His suspicions begin to grow.

“Well… Have you started planning where you’d like to visit next?” There’s another bout of silence. He’s unsure if that means you’re thinking on his question, wondering where you want to go after your period of rest here, or if you’re ignoring it. Both were possible give how you’re acting and how little you move or speak.

You inhale deeply and stretch your legs out, hands braced on the mattress. Sidon perks up, thinking maybe he was wrong, maybe you’re okay and you were just tired, so you’ll be a little slow talking about your next destination and he won’t mind that one bit. You exhale in a heavy sigh, and it comes across as burdened and very tired.

“I haven’t thought about it, no…” You trail off, attention dropping to your lap. You pick at the loose thread on your pants. “I haven’t thought about much lately.”

The admission raises alarm in Sidon. It signals to him that something strange is going on, laying itself on top of the already bizarre occurrence of losing your memories of him. Were the two phenomena connected? He assumes them to be immediately, but you might have also run into trouble again on your trip to Lurelin Village. The cogs are spinning in his head as he tries to make sense of the situation, of what could be happening to you.

Gradually, he starts to make connections, just hypotheticals with no grounding. His confirmation could only come from you directly. So when thinks he might have found the string connecting both your loss of memories and your sudden lethargy, he asks you another question.

“[Name],” he says your name softly, “do you feel any urges to travel?”

You don’t stop to consider the question, and when you look at him, you seem nonplussed by it. The look in your eyes makes it seem as if you don’t even understand why you should be getting excited about something like that. You almost look bored.

“I don’t care much for it.” You shake your head.

And then Sidon knows, and he wouldn’t have if he didn’t know you so well. Whatever you had run into that stole your memories of him, it had stolen more than that. It had taken an entire emotion away. Now, not only do you not love him, you can’t love at all. The magic which has affected you must work gradually, and that’s why you were still passionate about your exploration up until this most recent visit of yours to the domain.

The sudden loss of your enthusiasm to travel across Hyrule is to have lost parts of your very being, and that’s how Sidon knows this isn’t just a change of heart or fatigue. You have never had a change of heart about your travels or come close to it. Your desire to roam the wilderness and discover what is out there is core to who you are, and you would’ve gladly done it for the rest of your life. But now you suddenly have no interest, and what’s more, you don’t even realize that anything is unusual about the fact you have no interest. The problem arising from what magic had struck you runs much deeper than simply forgetting him.

He wants to apologize. He wants to say it over and over until you’re sick of it. But of course you would never know why he was so apologetic, and there’s an ugly twisting in the pit of his stomach because he wants you to get mad at him too. For saying sorry too much or for letting you get into this mess in the first place because it’s his fault. He deserves your anger but you don’t even have any to express. As it stands, you understand yourself to have no resentment for him. He wishes he could lament to you his failure to protect you and maybe still you wouldn’t be mad and you’d say that you don’t blame him like Link said you wouldn’t, but Sidon needs to hear it from you and he just wants you back.

He doesn’t know who stares back at him as you look over, having started to think that the silence had stretched too long. You tilt your head, prepared to ask if something is bothering him, but he stands up before you can.

“I’ll give you time to wake up more fully. It’s early. I’m sorry I intruded.” He flashes a brief smile in farewell, then turns quickly, the smile dropping once he does. He’ll never know if you tried to stop him in that moment, hand held out as if to get him to pause, before the words die in your throat, and you let him go.

Technically, it isn’t that early in the morning—the shops are all open—but he had to get away before he broke down in front of you. You, so unaware, left feeling detached by no choice of your own, at the center of the whole affair without even realizing. You’re beginning to drift farther and it hurts the most when you're sitting next to him, and he’s forced to bear witness. And he can’t believe how much he can miss someone.

———

III.

Link returns three days later and they make preparations to leave for Hateno that same afternoon, just as the sun begins to set. The golden hour might be better to enjoy in a happier context, but it’s the glare in Sidon’s eyes today when he glances west.

He’d told Link of what had transpired with you and Link frowns as he listens. The circumstances of your memory loss keep getting stranger and stranger. As they’re riding out of Zora’s Domain, Link wonders aloud if this might mean you could get worse if they didn’t do something to fix it. Sidon says he doesn’t want to think about what might happen, but deep down he can’t help but entertain the thought, wracked with paranoia as he has been these past weeks.

Would you continue to lose more of yourself? Perhaps your inability to feel love is only the beginning. Perhaps as the days wore on, you’d gradually become unable to feel much else, until you were just a shell. But who would do such a thing? Sidon fails to wrap his head around what might drive someone to do something so cruel and to someone so sweet. You have plenty more to lose if Link’s speculation is true, and Sidon’s inclined to say that the process is already underway, because how could he ever hope to see your smile again if there’s nothing that makes your heart burn with passion, to a degree so high you can’t contain and it pulls the corners of your lips up and crinkles the corner of your twinkling eyes?

The more of you that fades, the more Sidon perceives himself following suit. You’re a big part of his life and he can’t imagine it without you. He doesn’t want to. Without you, he’s just a prince, and the title pales in comparison to what he means to you. The honor of one day taking over as ruler of Zora’s Domain doesn’t mean much if he’s alone.

It’s the middle of the night when they arrive in Hateno Village. They had been diligent in their travel, taking as few breaks as they could manage. The main road of the town is empty, everyone having gone to bed earlier, and all that lights their paths are the torches in the wall sconces and the lamps hanging above locked storefronts. Said lamps sway gently with the cold breeze, the flames flickering to near ember before the gust stops, and they roar back to life.

Link comments that he’d never made the trip from Zora’s Domain down to Hateno so quickly before, and it’s meant to be a small joke, to brighten the mood. Sidon humors him with a small chuckle, but is unable to muster anymore than that. But Link understands, and quiets down as he leads him to their goal.

Sidon’s chest is heavy as he realizes what he is about to do. The notion of approaching the statue had seemed so faraway in the days leading up to this trip and while on the journey to Hateno, like a dream, but now he’s here and this is real. These last few minutes are his last chance to back out, but he won’t. He doesn’t even consider it. The consequences sound harrowing, to trade part of his mortality, part of his soul, but he knows it’ll be worth it. If you got to be whole again, he could live contentedly in a fractured state. Maybe he won’t even feel any different, so long as he could see you be happy.

Link walks through Hateno as though to go to his house, but instead of ascending the hill, he takes a path leading farther down, between two rock faces, their heights blocking the moonlight from reaching the grass. They’re cast in shadow and with no light source in this area, they can barely spot the statue on the other side of the large boulder, positioned like it’s in hiding.

This statue is larger than the goddess statue in town, its horns protruding menacingly, the points dulled down with age; and its wings are spread, adding height to the already imposing figure. It’s clear that this statue receives no care or maintenance. The stone is dark from dirt and moss, riddled with cracks and flattened in corners where the tips have crumbled, forced to withstand the elements and unsuccessful in its efforts.

No one comes to maintain this statue, Link says. He and Sidon stand before it, staring at its state of disrepair. They say a dark energy looms here.

Sidon nods. He’d had a sense of foreboding once they stepped into the presence of the horned statue, the power of it weighing on him, like it knows that he’s here to strike a deal, and it’s pressing in on him, forcing out the words and the commitment. Vaguely, he wonders when the last time anyone had approached the statue was. What it asks for is serious, and only the most grave of situations could lead someone here, in their most desperate hour. The statue is a last resort, and a chill runs down Sidon’s spine as he becomes aware of the power it must have. Dark magic does exist, its tendrils snaking through Hyrule, ominous and dangerous and unbelievably strong. Perhaps it was the work of Hylia herself that such strength is so hard to find, to accidentally stumble upon. Dark magic plays no games with fools.

The overgrown grass blows with another gust of wind and sifts as Link adjusts his stance, resting his weight on one foot. He glances up at Sidon. Are you sure? he asks. There’s a second part untacked to his question, but Sidon understands it fine—this is his final opportunity to turn around.

Link would never judge him for backing out. Dealing with dark forces is hazardous, and not everyone is capable of standing before the statue, shoulders squared and confident, ready to trade with it, a fractioned section of their soul and mortality for the granting of their one wish, their chief desire. Even Link doesn’t think he could do that, and for Sidon to be here only makes him respect the Zora prince more. But if in this moment Sidon were to turn away, Link would understand. The deep discomfort, of the air squeezing too tightly the longer you’re here, digging in like claws, is the ultimate trial, to test one’s resolution and commitment. Not all can bear it.

However, Sidon hardly looks bothered. His eyes are aflame with determination, and it reminds Link of why he respects Sidon so much in the first place. The resolution pumping through his veins has been there since the beginning. He doesn’t back down from challenge or adversity, and in matters concerning you, he only fights harder. That’s why when Link had given Sidon one last chance, one last out, he already knew the answer.

Sidon nods. He’s sure. His mind had been set the moment he’d learned of this statue.

Link leaves Sidon alone, mentioning that he’d be at his house, back in the direction they came from. I’ll get a fire going, he says. For when you get there. As Sidon takes the last few steps to stand right in front of the statue, Link starts walking back up the hill, throwing a somber good luck over his shoulder.

For a few moments, Sidon stares at the statue, unsure how to begin. Does he approach this as though he were at a statue of Hylia? Should he kneel? A breeze blows through, the two hills where the statue sits between forming a wind tunnel which makes the gusts strong. The chilly air seeps through his scales and he feels heavy, like there are weights in his stomach and attached to his ankles so that he’s unable to move from this spot. And then he hears a whisper, in the back of his head.

Shall we strike a bargain?

The sinister spirits looming within the statue have made themselves known, but Sidon doesn’t yet know how to form the words, to string them together and communicate his wish. He would have to phrase it carefully to avoid being misunderstood, and in attempting to phrase his request, he realizes he is at an impasse.

Whether or not he would come before the horned statue to make a deal had never been a question nor a doubt in his mind. It had seemed simple to him: he would make the trade in return for your memories. It was clearcut, precise. But now things are hazier and the line is blurred because the recent developments concerning your missing emotion had made it less so. This was not as easy to navigate, and your wellbeing hung in the balance.

If he were to ask for your memories back, for you to love him again, he’d get that. The statue would honor any demands made, as long as the price is paid. But that’s all he would get. And while he’d be over the moon to feel that once more, what it was like to be loved by you, it isn’t enough. It’s what Sidon wants but it isn’t what you need.

No, what you need is to feel love again at all. If the statue granted the wish for you to remember and love him, your love would only stretch that far. Sidon knows the phrasing of the request is of utmost importance, because though the statue accepts and carries it out, dark magic takes delight in skewing the words until the result scarcely resembles what was asked for. He just gets one wish, and to ask for you to remember him and to love again are two.

His chest tightens and it hurts and this twisting isn’t the work of the horned statue. The internal conflict is nearly too much to handle but in the incomprehensible flurry he knows what he must do. He knows what he wants for you, because from the very start, this was about you and it would always be about you because he loves you. He loves you so much his heart is cracking down the middle and he is preparing himself to let you go.

That’s what they say, isn’t it? If you love something, let it go. Sidon’s made tough decisions before but this is by far the toughest. The reason for it is due to his difficulty in coming to terms with what will happen from here, after he voices his wish. He already knows he wants what’s best for you, and he knows that’s what he will ask for, but he’d spent so long clutching to you tightly, he doesn’t want to see you carried away, the wind scooping you gently from his embrace. But for you to be your old self again, in its entirety—capable of love for the sunrises and sunsets, for the flowing water of the rivers, for exploring the full breadth of Hyrule and sharing your adventures with any willing ear—is more important. He cares more that you can love, even if it means you wouldn’t love him.

You won’t remember him the way you knew him before, won’t know how much you loved him or how much he loves you, but he would show it as best he could. And though he hates to consider it, you might fall in love with someone else anyway. He can’t see the future but if it came to that, he would have to be ready. In these several seconds he mentally steels himself for the possibility, and it doesn’t make the weight of his decision any lighter, but he basks in the small comfort that he will see you full of love, and he would be happy with that, even if you gave it away to another. You falling in love with him would just be a bonus, and if you don’t, he’ll still love you, and he hopes somewhere deep in your subconscious you will understand just how much.

A heart so big shouldn’t go empty. This final thought pushes Sidon over the edge, and he makes known his wish to the statue.

Link looks up from stoking the fire when the front door creaks open. Sidon peeks his head through then steps fully across the threshold, quietly shutting the door behind him. The air is solemn and at first, Link hesitates to say anything, but he figures maybe Sidon would appreciate it, as something to ground him, bring him back to earth after the ominous atmosphere he’d been immersed in. How did it go?

Sidon doesn’t respond immediately, but Link is patient. He stares into the orange flames, then inhales deeply, chest expanding, then steadily exhales. Link surmises it isn’t a breath of burden. It almost sounds light, a sigh of relief. But Sidon wears no smile to complement it.

“I made the deal,” Sidon states. He isn’t particularly wordy, deep in thought of what has occurred.

Link doesn’t push him to elaborate. What had happened was a private matter, and if Sidon didn’t want him to be privy of details, he wouldn’t ask about them. Instead, he nods, then returns to his original task of gathering ingredients to cook a simple meal for both of them. As he throws everything into the pot, he suggests they leave for Zora’s Domain before the sun rises. That would give them a few hours of rest. If they’re just as diligent as they had been on the way to Hateno Village, they should make it back by noon.

They eat in silence, the only noise the crackling of the fire and their spoons clacking against the bowls. Link’s attention is on his food, and he doesn’t notice Sidon’s contemplative gaze.

“It’s interesting,” Sidon remarks suddenly, and Link turns to him. “Considering what I’ve traded, I don’t feel any different.”

Link hums, and he smiles a little. It’s a small form of pity, he guesses, that one feels the same with a fractured or a whole soul. The horned statue has some sympathy, it seems. Upon this comment, Sidon chuckles, the tension leaving his shoulders and the air relaxing into something more comfortable. By the time they ride out of Hateno, it’s normal once more, and they’re chatting casually, as if the events from a few hours ago hadn’t happened, or occurred too far in the past to remember or linger on.

You aren’t in Zora’s Domain when they arrive, and you still don’t return in the few days that follow. Link says he’d like to stay and wait for you, to see for himself what has come of the bargain Sidon made, but he has his own business to attend to elsewhere. Sidon is understanding, and tells him it’s okay, but Link still parts regretfully. He parts with Sidon with hopes that you’re doing well. It certainly has been a while since he’d seen you. Maybe some day soon your visits here will intersect.

Sidon waits for you anxiously, and he’s antsy during meetings with his father and Muzu. He resumes his usual practice of gazing out the window in search for you, and for multiple mornings, it’s fruitless. He doesn’t see you out there, and his shoulders sag in disappointment with every day that passes. He falls asleep at night pondering the nuances of the wish he made, if the results were immediate or if they were gradual. If it was the latter, surely by the time you finally walk into town, he’ll witness what came of his journey to the horned statue. He knows his desire was fulfilled, the statue true to its word, but he can’t help the small inkling of doubt that nothing had changed.

Finally, finally, he spots you crossing the bridge on an early morning, the soft glow of the luminous stones encasing your figure as you walk, and the only assurance he isn’t dreaming is the jump in his chest of his heart skipping a beat.

He runs down to greet you and you prove to him that something had changed, everything had changed and it changed for the better because when you see him, you smile so widely and exclaim that you need to tell him of your latest adventures to the cold planes of Hebra. And you’re so beautiful Sidon might cry. He’s missed you. He voices that to you, how it felt like you’d been away for so long, and you laugh, wondering aloud It couldn’t have been that long, surely? and you’re still grinning at him as you continue jokingly Are you that lost without me around?

Sidon chuckles. His own smile is fond and maybe you detect that, or maybe you don’t. “You have no idea.”

He spends the rest of the day with you, listening intently to your stories. His reactions might be a little overdone, but you don’t appear bothered, instead seeming rather appreciative of his rapt attention. It feels good to hear you ramble. The passion is tangible.

This continues to be the state of things from then on. You venture out to a new location, and he waits for you, eagerly awaiting your tales. You’re always eager to share them. A warmth floods him on the day he spots you sitting by the cooking pot at the inn, map in hand as you scribble notes on it and trace out new routes. You’d had to replace the map again, and you’re embarrassed as you admit it had flown out of your grip on a windy day and got stuck in a tree, too high for you to climb up to retrieve.

“At least last time it was because of a fight with bokoblins, and that sounds much more exciting,” you lament, but you can’t pretend to be sad for long as you break into giggles at the silliness of it. “But maybe one day the wind will knock it free and carry it to someone who needs to find their way home.” You shrug nonchalantly at the casual hypothetical.

Sidon’s mouth twitches, a grin fighting its way to the surface. You are so kind, and do you realize that, he wonders? Do you realize the extent of the compassion you feel? He’d like a heart like yours, with enough room to welcome anyone who requires shelter.

You notice his silence and glance over, head tilted as you ask if he’s okay. He’s fine, he promises you. More than fine. He’s doing wonderful. You seem to doubt him briefly, watching him closely for a few beats until you concede. Your lips curl into a smile, satisfied that he’s being truthful. Good, you say. Sidon smiles softly at the straightforward response, curt but relaying perfectly how much you care.

The two of you lapse into a quiet again but it’s comfortable. You sit there together, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies runs loose in Sidon’s stomach. He might grow those wings any second now and take flight. If he does, he’ll be sure to hold his hand out for you to grab onto, if you want to tag along. He hopes you do. You’ll never know the things he did to turn you back to your normal self, but that matters little to him. What he’d traded was worth it, and he would do it all again.

Besides, he’s too busy marveling at that greatly missed warmth in your gaze to feel like any part of his soul had ever gone missing.

———

EPILOGUE

You have a tendency to wake up at dawn.

It’s a habit you figure has been instilled from the constant traveling. You prefer to start the day before the sun rises, in order to take advantage of the crisp morning air. Sometimes the afternoon heat is harsh enough you have to stop more often to rest, hiding in the shade of a large tree just off the trail. Such instances typically delay your journey and set you behind, and it irritates you only until you remind yourself that the journey to your destination was just as important as reaching the destination itself. The whole purpose is to explore to Hyrule, to bask in what it has to offer, and perhaps the silver lining of the hotter days when you’re forced to stop earlier than planned is that you’re allotted more time to slow down and admire the scenery.

The rays of the rising sun shine through patches of clouds dotting the sky as you walk along the dirt path, and your cheeks flush at the cold wind prickling at your skin. It had been dark when you left the inn, but the sun will have fully risen when you get to your goal. This would’ve gone much faster if you weren’t carrying a wooden container. It requires the use of both your hands, for it’s heavy, and you move slowly, occasionally setting it down to take a break. In the few minutes you use to rest, you like to study the water down below, and the way it glitters in the early morning. The steady current is a quaint white noise to keep you company on your trek.

Once you finally arrive at the small section of leveled land overlooking the river, you set the cylindrical vessel down and heave a sigh of relief. Your arms will probably be aching from how far you’ve had to bring it. You might feel it by lunchtime, but you won’t mind.

You’re facing east, lone audience to the sunrise, and settle down at the edge of the cliff, legs crossed, and open up the container to take out the parchment and pencil you’d placed there before you set off.

Where you sit currently has been named the Bank of Wishes. Finley had told you about it once. At this place, the river gladly receives the confessions of the heart and carries them away, and the subsequent days are spent hoping they might find their way to the one they’re meant for. It sounds fantastical, like make-believe, but perhaps that’s the point. There’s a magic here that makes the impossible possible, if only you’re willing to believe. And you are.

You think you can feel the difference in the air, the hospitality of the breeze swirling around you, still cold but not at all unpleasant. There are a few fireflies fluttering about like little fairies, blinking silently, still brilliant against an orange sky. The nocturnal creatures would retreat shortly, but for now, they take interest in the container at your side, and as they come close, you hear the faint flicker of their wings.

Your heart does the thinking while you draft your letter and your mind merely follows, and maybe it’s the hum of the lightning bugs’ wings or maybe it’s something else that resounds in your head, murmurs of welcome, as though whatever roams here unseen is glad that you have stopped by. You’re glad you’ve stopped by too, and the lightness that fills you as you take a deep breath is simultaneously the work of the crisp, gentle breeze and the mystical presence curling around you, goading the words out, the admission, the feelings you have for the one who means a lot to you, means the most.

Once you’ve signed the letter, you read it over. There are some spots you’ve had to scratch out a spelling error but even for those flaws you think it’s perfectly written. It says everything you need to give voice to. You nod to yourself, satisfied with what you wrote, then fold the parchment and reach back inside the red container for the third object you had placed within, the last piece in the process.

The pale blue nightshades seem to glow, as you hold the stems in one hand and cradle the petals in the palm of the other. Carefully you tie them to the golden band wrapped around the vessel, bending the stems appropriately but never pulling too hard for them to snap. They’ll be a small beacon, lighting the way for your letter as it floats along the water.

After that’s done, you set the letter inside then close the lid, checking that it’s secure. When you’re satisfied that it won’t pop back open, you reposition yourself to sit on your knees. You aren’t quite sure what you should say, if there were any traditions or methods of opening the conversation with… well, with whatever wanders here, waiting for another confession to guide downstream. But any worry of starting it wrong is nonexistent, and you keep it simple.

Your heart’s in that container, you think, for you feel no need to speak aloud. Whatever is here would know your thoughts. You heart’s in that container and you’d like for it to be kept safe. It may have far to travel but your heart’s already used to that. You’ve journeyed through this land, from end to end, and what more could the space between you and the one you love be? If it were wide as Hyrule or even wider, you would close the distance gladly. A hundred miles is a hundred steps to you, to reach who your soul yearns for.

Now all that’s left was to send away the vessel. You turn it onto its side, then give it a firm push. It rolls off the edge and drops down into the water with a small splash. You watch it float farther and farther, a school of fish trailing just behind. Perhaps they’re drawn to the small spot of light that are the nightshades, just as you are, as you continue to to sit there, until finally the container curves around the bend, and you can no longer see it. You still don’t move after it’s disappeared, rooted to the spot for several seconds as you take in the moment, memorizing how bright the sun is this morning, how cool the grass is, how contented you are to have done what you did. Life feels a little different now—a little brighter, a little more full of love.

Then your brows furrow, your eyes lowering from the sky back to the river. And it’s odd, you think, that all this feels vaguely familiar…

“[Name]!”

You twist around at the sound of your name. Sidon is standing just off the path, waving at you even though you’ve no need for that to notice him there. He’s tall, and his red scales stand out from the blue sky. His smile is big as he walks closer and asks what you’ve been up to.

You shake your head and stand, brushing off the dirt from your pants. Nothing, you say. Thankfully he doesn’t pry, and having sensed your desire to keep what has transpired a secret, he changes the subject. He invites you to breakfast, and you’re about to accept, but your stomach answers for you and growls. This prompts you to grin sheepishly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sidon remarks. Then he laughs, and it is truly wonderful to hear.

The day is already looking to be quite splendid, and there’s no one else you’d rather spend it with. Whenever you should finally gain the courage to tell Sidon you love him, you can only hope he feels the same.

#sidon x reader #prince sidon x reader #sidon imagine #prince sidon imagine #botw imagine #botw x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda imagine #legend of zelda #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

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