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rabotimagines · 4 months ago

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"Tease" GN BOT Reader x [Yandere/Obsessed] Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Optimus.

Summary: The bots snap. Or BOT Reader gets their valve pounded.

G1 characters: Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Optimus

Warnings: CNC (technically), Yandere/obsessed bots! Prowl uses his stasis cuffs, Ratchet abuses his knowledge as a medic.

Genre/Theme: Yandere Smut 🔞 MDNI

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Reader wants to frag but thought it would be more fun to tease the bots while playing coy. The bots don't know this, however, hence the CNC instead of NC or Dubious consent because they think its full NC from their perspective. (Prowl has assumptions but isn't sure, While Optimus is the only one who does actually know for certain you want him.) G1 Optimus would be such a soft Yandere I'm sorry it's true. Prowl and Optimus's parts directly references their first imagine I wrote with Yandere them here

Ironhide is the fastest out of these mechs who snaps first in this scenario. Now, don't get it twisted. Ironhide lasts much longer than other autobots not included here. (Sunstreaker, Skyfire) But out of the other contenders here, he snaps near immediately compared to the rest of them. It starts with soft brushes of your em field when passing each other and you don't react. And Ironhide can see the shape of your aft while your bending over to help fix teletraan 1- and it cultivates when you accidentally run into him and his servos fly onto your frame to steady you not realizing it's you- and your frame is pressed right up against his own and your servos are on each other- and then Ironhide can't fragging take it anymore!

Ironhide drags you into their equivalent of a storage closet before you can protest. It's a heated and frustrating blur, but Ironhide does remember yanking the manual release on your modesty panel- Next thing he knows, he's pounding into your valve from behind where you're both standing. Ironhide curses when you squeeze down on him while you groan against Ironhides' servo. Ironhide had covered your mouth when he yanked you in here. While the back of your frame was pressed right against his front. There's a soft clank of his windshield glass getting hit on your armor every time he bottoms out inside you again.

Primus- you little- You didn't mean to do it! Ironhide knows- he's just a filthy fragging pervert who can't help himself! Every muffled cry out of you only makes Ironhide snap his hips harder and harder. The heavy want in his core only getting hotter and hotter the longer he's fragging you silly. Primus- Ironhide fantasized about this so many times, and the press of your frame against his and your valve taking his spike like this didn't even come close to his own dirty little thoughts. You're so good- taking his spike so good- not struggling too much against him neither- Ironhide lately wishes he'd dragged you in here by your front because he really wants to taste your glossia right now.

A strangled noise, muffled but still audible, escapes your throat when Ironhides free servo grabs your spike and practically starts fragging you right into his own fist with the force of his thrusts. Your spinal strut arches back against his own frame, where you're flush against one another. Your frame is trapped between ironhide and his own servos, and you overload on his spike. Valve clenching down on him and a muffled but used sound escapes you when Ironhide only speeds up. And Ironhide groans and stills to finally overload inside you.

You groan against his servo and Ironhide just continues to softly rut against your aft. Riding out his own overload and making sure his transfluid is stuffed in your valve proper. Your spent spike is twitching in his servo and Ironhide pushes his em field out to praise you- His dang glossia wasn't cooperating with him right. So instead he's pushing his field to wrap around your frame like the rest of him was. the Good, good, you're doing so good. that Ironhide feels in his struts caresses your softly twitching frame.

Ironhide pulls his servo away from your mouth, and you pant in greedy vents. Ironhide then gags you with his digits next- The flat of his digit pads pressing down flat on your glossia. His own glossia dragging along the covering of your audial- Ironhides spike twitching inside you when you whine around his digits. Ironhide had a good amount of pent-up tension he still needed to get outta himself concerning you.

He's lucky you were so understandin' to his predicament...

Prowl didn't know what else he could do to avoid the new influx of- unsavory imagery infecting his proccessor whenever he would see you. He'd chalked it up to it being because he'd seen you as he had in the hallway self servicing. And now he could not get the imagery out of his helm. And then new... fantasies continued to turn in Prowl's processor. His logic center continued to randomly calculate subduing measures. He'd now made a habit of dismissing them and keeping his servos behind his own back when you'd have to be near one another.

Prowl is coming out of his habsuite, and you suddenly crash into Prowl, and you both end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. You're practically straddling his lap- you apologize and sit up and in the process your aft grinds down on Prowls modesty panel. Prowl is hit with the sequence of moves he'd need to take to knock you on the floor and get on top of you instead. And he dismisses it, and he forces himself still. In fact, he's so still you look down at him in confusion and ask if he's alright.

Then your em field of all things brushes against Prowl, and there's a hint of- playfulness? It makes Prowls logic center run, and it runs into a conclusion. There was a thirty percent chance you'd been doing this to Prowl on purpose. Every little pose and stretch- the longer Prowl recalled incidents, the chances had jumped up to forty percent. And then Prowl does something he loathes to admit- but he reacts without thinking. He follows through with the take down sequence prompt and swiftly knocks you off of him. And before Prowl knows it, you're on your front, with your wrists bound in the stasis cuffs he always carries in his subspace.

After a heated few klicks, Prowl grabbed you and dragged you through his doorway into his habsuite, the door closing behind you both. What he was doing to you- but Prowl knew- Prowl was following his intuition. He was trusting his intuition that said the forty percent was correct, and he was reacting accordingly. (Never mind the fact that you were incapacitated-) and he snapped open your modesty panel and your valve was dripping on his digits in less than a klick and the percent shoots up to fifty percent and Prowl (this was wrong- this was wrong-) takes that chance and spikes you right there on his habsuite floor.

Prowl rarely cursed. It just wasn't a habit- but he's muttering curses under his vents when he enters you and promptly bottoms out. You felt- wonderful. Prowl thrusts hard and fast- he never punished you for self servicing in the ark hallway- this was for that- nothing else! Prowls pace doesn't falter when you start moaning and grunting every time he bottoms out. And his door wings don't fan high when you start saying his designation against the floor where your faceplate is pressed. (And he's certainly not fantasizing about pulling you onto his berth after this and fragging you senseless-)

Prowl notices that you're drooling on the floor. (His stasis cuffs having taken function of your fine motor controls.) Prowls servos move from your waist to your pauldrons and he's pushing you down further and thrusting into you harder. Your valve clenches down on his spike and you're murmuring his designation over and over- Prowl overloads with a sharp invent of your designation while pressing down on your back. You're twitching around him and panting lazily against the floor. His cuffs still preventing you from doing much else. Prowl gets the inappropriate thought of kissing the back of your neck and he does not follow through with it.

He does, however, lean to the side of your audial and speak. "Consider this- punishment for your habit of self servicing outside of your habsuite." Your vent hitches at Prowl's words. Prowl realizes he still needs to punish you for playing with him so inappropriately- Prowl didn't consider this nearly enough punishment for your misgivings.

Prowl is running through what else he's going to do to punish you while he drags your frame upwards.

Frankly the only reason Ratchet doesn't snap before Prowl is because he took measures to try and keep you safe from him. Which was limiting his interactions with you unless absolutely necessary. Which was working- to a degree. Ratchet keeps thinking about you and the few interactions have left his frame hot and his engine wanting to rev. It's getting harder for Ratchet to continue to convince himself to leave the room when you enter- and then you walk right into the medbay and Ratchet has no where to go- you see him and walk right up to him- and Hoist is off base and he's not gonna be able to handle this- and you'd come in with a visible limp so Ratchet can't just kick you out without seeing you. (He should! He should do just that-) And you ask if Ratchet can realign your leg pivot.

That was simple- Ratchet should be able to do that at least... So you're lying back on the medical slab and Ratchet has a hold of your leg and his other servo is on your pelvis and he just- Ratchet pushed up and to the left and feels your leg realign and you audibly groan in relief. Ratchet found himself staring at how your plating all slacked after the action. And Ratchet takes much too long to realize he hadn't moved from his position and still had your leg propped up. His other servo still on your pelvis' when you're on your back looking up at him.

Ratchet needed to move now.

So Ratchet leans forward forcing your other leg to the side and his servo reaches for your throat- and you stop but you don't panic because you trust him- (He was your medic of course you trusted him-) and one of the multi tools in his digits zapped you right in the throat. Your own sound of surprise is cut sort because Ratchet just shorted your vocalizor. Your optics go wide, and you jerk backward and start trying to use your voice- but nothing comes out. And nothing would sound out of you for a few klicks. Ratchet realizes that whatever is seriously wrong with himself might not be fixable when Ratchets first thought is to feel bad for shorting your vocilizor- not because he might have hurt you. (Or because it's a gross violation of your trust-) But because now Ratchet won't be able to hear what sounds you'd make.

Ratchets yanking the manual release on your modesty panel and climbing up onto the medical slab too, and before he knows it- He's spiking you right then and there in the middle of the medbay. Ratchet savors the reaction of you arching off the medical slab, mouth open but no groan or moan to accompany it. Ratchet pulls back and re enters you slow and watches your valve open up to accommodate the girth of his spike. You grit your denta, and your own spike pressurizes properly, and Ratchet doesn't hesitate to grab it and stroke you off languidly. His grip tightening at your spike tip and giving you a gentle squeeze at the base every pump back down-

Your hips jerk against his own and his servo, and Ratchet actually feels gratified when your valve clenches down on him- (he shouldn't! He shouldn't! It was a basic reaction to him servicing your spike! Ratchet knows better!) Ratchet groans and starts snapping his hips and fragging you proper on the medical slab. His optics are trained on your faceplate- watching how your optics almost shuttered closed- your optical ridge furrowed. Your optics are as bright as he'd ever seen them. Your mouth closes and opens with no sound coming out of you still- Ratchet really wishes he hadn't shorted your vocalizor! Ratchet needed to hear what sound you'd make right now- how you'd sound taking his spike- how you'd sound overloading on his spike- How you'd sound begging for him-

Your spike throbs in his servo, and the only sounds out of you are the slick sounds of your pre lubrant in his servo and your valve when Ratchet bottomed out inside you. You arch against Ratchet, and he jerks your spike in quick pumps and watches you overload all over your chassis and on his spike. Ratchet then rushed forward and locked his derma against your own. His glossia lapping against yours while he snapped his hips. And Ratchet overloads right in your valve while sucking on your glossia.

Ratchet pulls away from the messy kiss and huffs in heavy vents. You're venting harsh, and in the middle of your soundless vents, your vocalizor resets, and Ratchet can suddenly hear your quiet cursing. Ratchet rolls his hips, and you audibly keen- your valve twitching around his spike. Primus- Ratchet was going to need to hear how you sounded overloading on his spike a second time... and maybe a third and maybe a fourth-

Ratchet uses his credentials to lock the medbay door via his HUD and then sends a message about closing the medbay temporally.

Optimus is suffering. He's suffering. He is suffering! He has not known peace since his infatuation with you. And he's not known sanity since he's noticed how even more tantalizing you suddenly seemed to be. But Optimus may look- even though he has to yank his gaze away. And Optimus may fantasize- even though he doesn't let himself indulge in those thoughts. Optimus does not "snap." He may be suffering and wound terribly taunt, but you didn't need to suffer because Optimus was a filthy pervert- this was his problem, not your own! (A prime example and the only bot on earth who keeps it together yandere or not!)

Then you're in his office for something, and you ask to examine his desk- and Optimus is confused about why you would possibly need to examine his desk? But like most things involving you, he finds he can't deny you the simple request, and Optimus scoots his chair back to allow you in front of him. And then you promptly sit down right in his lap!? A startled sound escapes Optimus and his servos hover right over your frame. You're on his modesty panel- and you say you didn't think Optimus were this dense. Dense about what exactly?!

And then you admit it. Admit that you'd been purposely teasing Optimus- because you wanted him to proposition you?! Then Optimus's servos fly onto your hips when you rock on his lap. And you tell him he can throw you out If he isn't interested- and Optimus can't let you assume that so his panel is pulling back and he's pulling you upwards so his spike can pressurize correctly. The sound of just your own panel pulling back excites Optimus much more than he'd imagine it would.

Optimus's digits find your array quick, and he vents when he can feel how your valve is already wet and your spike pressurizes in no time at all. And then you ask if he wants to spike you and Optimus abruptly realizes he hadn't asked he'd just assumed you'd be willing to take his spike- After scolding himself a bit for getting caught up in his own needs- wants, Optimus asks if you'd rather spike him. Optimus's engine purrs in his chassis when you say you wanna get spiked by him right now.

Optimus has to take his time prepping you- he has to, his spike is admittedly rather large. By the time he gets two digits down to his knuckle in your valve you're squirming and making all sorts of noise in his lap- and every sweet sound out of you is going right to Optimus's spike and he's dripping pre lubricant on himself- But Optimus just savors every little reaction he gets out of you while opening you up for himself- and then he believes you'll be fine at least taking half his spike. And you're asking him to spike you, and he can't deny you when you want him almost as badly as he needs you. It's a task and then some but you've got at least half of Optimus's spike in your valve and Optimus figures he should show you how much he wants you- Show you what you'd wanted from him with all of your teasing.

Optimus starts fragging you up and down his length (it doesn't matter if you're in his frame class or maybe even bigger he's strong and he's using his matrix enhanced strength to frag you down his spike like a toy.) And Primus you feel amazing squeezing around his length so perfectly- and every noise out of you is music to his audials. Optimus is muttering praises and cooing over how darling your expression is while he's stuffing your valve with all you can take of him. (If you're big enough/trained enough that Optimus can actually bottom out inside you, he's groaning hard. And his engine revs loud.)

Optimus's em field brushes flush against you, and he's telling you how good you're being for him. His spike throbs when your optics noticeably brighten under the attention. (Sweet - you were so sweet for him-) And he starts pulling you down his spike faster and faster- You overload on his spike with a groan, and Optimus follows right after. His spike throbbing and pumping thick amounts of filling transfluid into you. His transfluid starts spilling out of your valve and into his own lap.

Stars- you were amazing...

It takes a few klicks, but eventually, Optimus shifts you up and then drops you back down again. Optimus can't help but enjoy the sight of how your spinal strut arches and how you squeeze down on him. When you question him, Optimus points out how you'd wanted this- all your hard work of teasing him was for this- so Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied. Completely and utterly.

Was it selfish and almost completely for Optimus's own desire? Yes. But Optimus felt justified being just a touch mean to you. Especially when you'd been purposely making Optimus stress over, apparently nothing for multiple cycles. He's just- punishing you a bit. He was justified doing that. Now, wasn't he? Optimus wondered exactly how much he should punish you- but he guessed he could decide when he got there how much was too much for you, now couldn't he.

Optimus was going to make sure you were satisfied enough that you'd never try and tease him like you had again. He could do that much for you at least.

(Spoilers but Optimus frags you so hard, and so many times your frame ends up entering a forced stasis to recover.)

#transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x cybertronian reader #x reader #yandere transformers x reader #yandere transformers #optimus x reader #prowl x reader #ratchet x reader #ironhide x reader #x gn reader #rabot writes #valveplug #gn reader #HORNYY PERVERTSS COME GET YOUR JUICE!!!#🩶#🔞

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covenofagatha · 7 months ago

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If you're still taking requests I'd love to suggest Agatha x fem reader smut with mutual maturation and Agatha guiding inexperienced reader through dry humping after finding out

It took me awhile to figure out what I wanted to do for this story, but a lightbulb clicked today and it was all I could think about so I really hope everyone likes it!

Forgive me, Father

After feeling something that you shouldn't have, you go to confession and Father Agatha helps you repent

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: confessional booth sex, father kink (?), religious imagery, masturbation, thigh riding, slight dubcon, reader is completely innocent and inexperienced and thinks any kind of sex is a sin, corrupt priest agatha, so sacrilegious lol

You slide into the confessional booth, stomach twisting and palms sweating.

You were practically a regular there, always looking to assuage your guilt about the bad things you did: accidentally saying the Lord’s name in vain, getting too angry when your brother turned off the television and snapping at him, harboring a grudge against a stranger who cut you off while driving.

You strived more than anything to be a good girl, and when you did something bad, it ate you alive.

Except this time, it wasn’t just a small sin.

No, it was much worse than anything you had confessed about earlier.

The door to the conjoining part of the booth opens and you hear someone sit down.

“What is the matter, my child?” The priest says, and you’re surprised to hear a woman’s voice. You didn’t know women could become priests, nor that your parish had one.

You do the sign of the cross and say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.”

“What do you have to confess?”

You take a deep breath, wiping your hands on your legs to try and dry them off. “Last night, I was at a friend’s house reading Scripture and her older sister was watching a movie in the other room. When I went to the bathroom, I saw a glimpse of it.”

You stop talking, afraid of the next part. The priest makes a sound to urge you on.

“I don’t know what movie it was, but there were two women kissing,” you tell her, shuddering. “Which I know is a sin, but then I felt something inside me.”

“What did you feel, child?” She asks. You can hear her breathing closer to the partition like she’s leaning towards you.

Tears prick your eyes. “I felt, um, like this heat in my stomach? And almost like I was empty? When I went to the bathroom, there was a wetness in my underwear.”

The priest thinks for a second and then tuts. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, shame bubbling up. “But it was wrong, and I know that. I’m sorry, Father! What is my penance?”

“There is something that can be done when you feel like that, you know,” she says slyly, her voice getting low and thick with something, and your heart stutters.

Surely she can’t be talking about–

“Have you ever touched yourself?” She asks.

“No, of course not!” You exclaim indignantly. “Masturbation is a sin. You can only be touched down there by your husband.” It’s the same words you’ve heard your entire life.

“I bet you didn’t know that those rules don’t apply to priests,” she says and your brows furrow in confusion. “Since we are not allowed to marry.”

You swallow. “Really?” Curiosity is getting the better of you and you’re starting to feel warm. You can almost hear her nodding her head.

“Really. And as a priest, I’m giving you permission to try. It will make you feel good and relieve the tension you feel.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel flickers of heat in your stomach. But you shake your head in frustration. “I don’t know how to,” you admit.

“Why don’t you come over here and I’ll help you?” She says, sounding like a cat who just got the cream. Feeling better, you step out of your side and into hers.

It’s a tight fit, and through the dimly lit space, you get your first look at the priest you’ve been talking to and your mouth parts.

Her dark, curly hair frames her face and falls down past her breasts. Her striking blue eyes, although you can see barely any of the cerulean color with how large her pupils are, seem to pierce through your soul. They rake up and down your body, taking in your jean shorts and Youth Group t-shirt from years ago.

You can feel your pulse somewhere between your legs and it’s like the feeling from last night, only amplified.

“Please, Father,” you beg, although not sure what you’re asking for. She smirks and motions for you to take a step closer.

“Why don’t you get on your knees, angel? Like you do when you pray.”

You obey and wince at the cold tile. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you lay your palms face up on your thighs and look at her.

She bites her lip at the sight, something flashing in her eyes. “Very good. Now, unbutton your jeans and slide a hand inside.”

Something stops you, a feeling nagging inside your brain. You’re still not convinced that this isn’t a sin, and she sees your hesitation.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll show you what to do,” she says, and she begins pulling up her robes. Your fingers twitch against your thighs and the feeling inside you grows. Once they’re around her waist, she moves her underwear to the side to reveal her private parts to you.

“Is it supposed to be that wet?” You question, absolutely enraptured by what she looks like. You’ve never even really examined your own that closely, but she has two flaps of skin that look like they’re practically matted together with wetness and she’s glistening. Jesus Christ himself could come down to earth right now and you wouldn’t even care.

She nods and runs a hand through, parting her folds and letting you see more of her.

“Yes, if you’re this wet, that means your pussy is ready,” she says and you blush at the vulgar word. “And this up here-” She cuts off to circle her finger on something at the top of her pussy. “-is your clit. This is what you want to focus on.”

She rubs herself more and her head slightly drops back with a moan. It’s like your body is being consumed with hellfire.

This priest is both the apple and the snake in the Garden of Eden, and you are the poor mortal fool about to give into temptation and sin.

“That feeling inside you?” She whispers, and your eyes lock on hers, waiting for the answer to salvation. “This is how you get rid of it.”

She slides a finger into herself and groans louder and you can’t resist unbuttoning your shorts and cupping yourself through your underwear.

“Father��” You rasp, hesitating because you realize you don’t know her name.

“Agatha,” she says, moving in and out. “Play with your clit, angel. Rub it.”

You struggle to find it, but when you do, your entire body jerks with pleasure. She chuckles above you and you’re reminded of the stained glass windows in the parish of disciples kneeling at the altar before Jesus.

Is that what the two of you look like right now?

Like you’re revering Father Agatha?

That’s what it feels like.

You can feel how wet you’ve gotten through your underwear and you squirm at the stickiness. You keep stroking that special spot, watching the priest do the same, but it feels like you just need more. The blaze inside you is only growing more and you feel like you need relief or you’ll die.

“Father Agatha,” you whine and you don’t miss how her hips buck. “I can’t do it by myself, I need help. It’s only getting worse.”

She pouts. “Of course it is, angel. That means it’s working. Although, if you really want to feel good, why don’t you let me guide you?”

You stiffen involuntarily, even though your body is screaming to let her. “If you touch me there, I’ll be impure.”

She thinks hard for a minute, tapping her finger to her lip and then her face lights up. “I won’t touch you there, then.”

You frown and she beckons you up. She parts her legs and pats one of them. You stare at her, completely confused as to what she wants you to do.

“Take off your shorts and sit on my thigh with your underwear. We won’t be touching and it won’t be a sin.”

You can’t find any holes in that logic, so you obey and you let out a gasp when you drop your pussy right onto her leg. You moan. Having a strong muscle to move against makes the pleasure so much more intense and you rut against it frantically.

“There you go, angel. Make yourself feel good,” she encourages, putting her hands on your hips to guide you down harder. Each drag of your clit against her skin, even through your wet fabric, pulls a sound out of your mouth.

“Father, please, so good, more,” you pant.

You shall not make false idols. You have definitely broken that commandment as you have fully given yourself over to worshipping this woman.

“Oh, my God, please.”

You shall not take the Lord’s name in vain. There’s another one.

“Father Agatha, something’s happening to me!” Heat and tension are rising and twisting and building and making you so tense that you think you’re about to snap.

She smirks and digs her fingernails into your hips to move you faster. “Let go, angel. That’s the best part.”

You remember hearing the story of Noah’s ark in nursery school. How God warned him of a flood and to gather two of every animal before he overflowed the earth.

You feel that flood now in your body, except it’s pleasure rushing through your veins, like a dam has broken.

Your head slumps onto her shoulder. “What was that?”

“That was an orgasm,” she says, sounding very proud of herself. “Reproduction isn’t the only reason people have sex.”

Your face turns red. “But – no, we didn’t – that wasn’t sex, I couldn’t have had one of those, I’m not married!”

Your protests only make her grin more and she brushes a piece of hair from your sweaty face. “Oh, you’re so innocent, angel. I’m a priest, remember? The rules are different for us. And if you’re still feeling guilty, do eight Hail Mary’s.”

You nod, mind reeling from that. You will certainly have to pray later. But there’s something else you can’t stop thinking about. “But what if that feeling comes back?”

She smirks and there’s a glint in your eye that both makes you want more and terrifies you. “Then you come back for more confessions until we can get rid of all those dirty thoughts.”

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

If we like, I have an idea for a part 2 that lines up with another request

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along #covsfics

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yup-thats-me · 2 months ago

Text

—for love • J. Wooyoung

❀pairing; ❝ Wooyoung x gf!reader❞ ❀summary; ❝Wooyoung wants to cook for his beloved wife ♡.ᐟ❞ ❀warnings; ❝none, few sexist comments❞

"Hey, atiny," Wooyoung smiled as he started the pop-up live. "Have you guys been well?"

The chat flooded with thousands of people greeting the idol. And some would also point out that he was beaming, saying his "eyes were 'literally beaming."

Wooyoung continued to talk with his fans, although his camera was facing the ceiling instead of his face, sounds of pots and pans filling the silence.

"Y/n is late tonight," He announced a bit sad, although smiling nonetheless.

"She's been working overtime for quite some time now," He recalled, his face falling slightly.

Even though the idol could not see, his beloved fans were gushing over him. They have known of Y/n and Woo's relationship for quite some time now. They had been dating for a year when the two finally became public with their relationship. It did come as a huge news to the fans but the lack of his company's dating ban, the backlash was close to none with only sasaengs hating on the two.

But the two came out stronger than ever. Ateez and Atiny supporting them, Wooyoung was more comfortable with sharing his love life a bit more.

"So," Woo jumped, a pan in his hand. "Let's make meatballs and pasta for my jagi." He smiled cheekily.

The comments flooded once more. Are they getting a glimpse of cook Wooyoung? The day couldn't get any better!

"First, the onion."

Wooyoung quickly set his phone on the counter before grabbing his chopping board and knife. "Pro tip, cut your onion in half and put them in water for a couple of minutes. You'll not cry that way," he smiled.

As Woo showed off his knife skills, the chat had quieted down a bit, fans admiring his face and the recipe of course.

"'Where are the other members?'" He read out from a comment.

"They're in the studio," he raised a brow, smirking. Ever since their newest comeback teaser, atiny were, for lack of a better word, begging the members for any kind of spoilers.

Wooyoung hummed as he skipped from counter to the kitchen island, cutting up his veggies, and rolling the meatballs. "She likes this dish very much," Wooyoung said mostly to himself. "Gotta keep the wife on her toes," He smirked.

"With surprises, of course!" He added when he remembered his fans will tease him again.

After about half an hour, all his balls were done and the sauce was made. Putting the spaghetti to boil, he sat down for a while, reading the comments.

"'What did you add in the sauce'?" With a mischievous smile, Woo dipped his finger in the sauce, taste-tasting it. "Hmm, garlic, onion, oregano, and a whole lot of love!" He giggled as he made finger hearts.

Answering some of his fan's questions, a particular comment made hhis face blank. "'Isn't cooking Y/n's job? That's what women are for anyway.'"

Atiny held their breath as Woo stared blankly into the screen. "Oh yeah?" Here it comes.

"Of course you'll say that when you can't even boil water without burning down your whole house," He smiled sarcastically. "Skill issue, dude."

The chat exploded once more with praises and surprise. Atiny knew how savage Woo can get and its nice to see men shown their rightful places.

"Anyway, Seonghwa-hyung..." Woo changed the subject immediately talking about how his hyung was working on one of his newest lego sets.

"'I would never cook for my girlfriend. She can fend for herself."

This time however, Wooyoung could not keep his poker-face staright, disgust written all over. He was about to reply when the time went off signaling that the spaghetti was done.

Getting up, Woo drained the water, mixing the pasta with the simmering sauce. He looked back directly into the camera, his voice loud and clear.

"Do you guys even love your significant other? Doesn't seem like it."

Wooyoung did not have the time to continue when Y/n entered the fram, kissing him on the cheek. "Smells delicious, baby."

Wooyoung reveled in her praise. "Freshen up, sweetheart. I'm all done," He said as he hugged her close. "Oh Atiny is watching," He pointed.

Gasping, Y/n waved a quick goodbye to the screen as she sprinted out of the frame.

Smiling, Wooyoung piked up his phone. "Bye, guys. My beloved wife is here."

He could not have said "wife" with a more proud smile.

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. all rights belongs to yup-thats-me™ on tumblr

reqs are open!🪷✨

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pome-seed · 3 months ago

Text

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 9

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: As you try to figure out a plan and try to understand the machine used to control the Winter Soldier, you're hit with the fear of disappearing. Longing to be known, you share a kind moment with the Soldier.

Warnings: Captivity, angst, mention of torture and death, longing, helplessness, mention of Siberia, and more angst. Sad Bucky.

Authors Note: Please enjoy, comment and be kind! I love the comments and interaction. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Song Rec: Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

The cold glint of steel.

A faded red star.

Painfully blue eyes.

Calloused fingers that twitched when you pulled too far away.

Cold skin marred with scars.

A gentle frown, pressed together softly by blushed lips.

You wanted to burn every small detail of the Soldier into your brain. You wanted to remember it, remember him. You feared you didn’t have long. You tried to draw out your research as you worked on the indefinite cure to his degeneration, but your captors grew impatient.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to disappear.

“My favorite color is red.” You blurted, your gaze following the line of wires across the back of the Soldier’s chair.

He shifted, turning his head slightly to signal he was listening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, biting on the soft inside of your cheek. “I like red.”

What you were doing was dangerous. You knew that. But you couldn’t stop.

“I like a lot of things.” You huffed, trying not to shake under the sudden burst of anxiety you felt. You moved behind the Soldier, eyeing the power box behind his chair.

In the days when you were sent to clean up the Soldier- cleaning his suit, his wounds, basic care- you tried your best to investigate the machine he sat on.

From what you’d seen, it was some sort of electroshock therapy on steroids. The technology was foreign to you, but its intention was clear. It was built to restrain and torment. It was designed to suppress memories and induce a state of pliancy.

It was the perfect tool for mental conditioning.

There were several monitors that you had become familiar with, each reflecting the Soldier’s vitals and scans. Beneath the monitors were several switches and dials, meant to control the flow of electricity.

“I like a lot of things,” you repeated. Between the fear you felt for your charge and the doom you felt hanging over your future, you felt the need to be known. “I hate a lot of things too. I can be really opinionated.” Your voice trailed on, fighting against the shake in your body.

The Soldier watched you inspect the mechanics and tangle of wires, listening silently as you trailed on anxiously. He knew as well as you did that there was little hope in what you were doing. You knew this. You knew there was no point in him believing that you could help him. Why would he? He’d spent decades helpless under their torture.

You tried to feel confident in yourself, but ultimately your only hope of making a difference was breaking the high tech machine. The only solid plan you had was giving the soldier a window to escape. A window to regain some sense of understanding of his own mind.

But even then, they still had those trigger words. The ones used so easily that day when your throat had been the victim of the Winter Soldier.

“I used to journal a lot, back home. I always had so much to say and- and nowhere to put it all.” Usually, spilling details about your life to a man after a long bout of silence would be embarrassing, but not with him. Not here. Not now.

Not when he knew why you were doing it.

“I like music- I really like music. My friends and I were hoping to go to a music festival in the summer, before all of this.” You went on, holding yourself up on the mechanical device in front of you. “I had good friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

The Soldier looked over his shoulder at you, dark hair framing his tormented expression. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t want you to. He wanted to listen. He wanted to hear about what a life could be like outside of all this pain and death. He wanted to know who you were before this.

“What else?” He offered, the low timber of his voice soft and gentle.

You blinked back ill timed tears. “There’s- There’s so much.” You whispered. “I had so much life- before.”

“I know,” his throat bobbed, his lips tugged into a frown.

And he did. He knew someone like you must have lived a good life. A life of laughter and tears, of good and bad in all the right ways. He knew you must have been happy.

A part of him wished he could reach into himself and find that. He knew he must have been something once. He must have laughed. He must have been happy.

He must have been someone once.

But it was too far, too dark and too easy to slip through his fingers. He could try and try, but he couldn’t touch the warmth he must have once felt, years ago.

“I always wanted to travel. I never did though, stupid, right?” You huffed, sinking into your chair at your desk. “Did you? Do you know?”

His gaze shifted to the space between you, his head slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

“Where have you been?”

“Siberia, Russia.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head at him. “I bet it's nice there. Watching the sun peak over the snow caps. I bet the air tastes sharp there.” You whispered wistfully.

He didn’t agree. His shoulders sank as he stared at you pick at your nails. “I didn’t see much of the sun.” He whispered, a cold shiver trailing down his back.

“Oh.”

You couldn’t help the bitter, dry sob that clawed its way up your throat. Of course he didn’t see it. They would never let him experience something so innocent.

Your eyes met, and for a moment you both were silent.

The two of you shared a fragile second of understanding. All you wanted was to be known. To be remembered. You didn’t want to disappear. You didn’t want to fade into the unknown, with nothing left of you.

And he, who was already gone, already lost to the world, wanted to be known. He wanted to be something. Someone. He wanted to have something for himself, something to hold and cradle and call his own. He wanted to be alive.

But you both knew it was fruitless.

It was impossible.

So together you sat, sharing a second of understanding.

A/N: I'm sorry for sooo much angst :D But I hope you enjoy. This is the tipping point. Let me know if you wanna be apart of the tag list!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05

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merakidoll · 2 years ago

Text

warnings : camboy! tengen x black fem chubby cam girl! reader ( mouth full lmao ). use of toys, dom tengen, rough tengen, penetration, squirting, painting the body with cum, daddy kink !

the bright light shined down onto you capturing your slutty form. from the too small top that your boobs spilled out of, to the thong skirt that your pussy pushed through. your legs were against your chest shaking, as the big beefy man held the badazzled vibrator to your clit chuckling at the sounds of money flowing through.

“look at that babydoll, they love this” tengen kissed your forehead making a long moan stretch out of you. your eyebrows where knitted together, nails clawing into the bed sheets, and toes curled in the knee high socks, vision beganing to blur from how close you were.

“m-m’closeeedaddyy—“ tengen was close to say no but when your bright colored thong grew dark from you squirting, the fun playful tengen was long gone. standing tall he pulled you all the way to the edge of the bed. his back hid you from the camera that had yet to stop making “ching” noises from the gifters. pulling the lose fitted sweats down and your thong to the side he slid right into you grabbing your neck and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

“can’t. fuckin. listen” he captivated dominance making you forget about the camera that could hear all of your begs for him to slow down and sorry’s. “slobing on daddies hand like a bitch in heat, s-so pathetic” tengen took shaken breaths, his balls jumping from just how close he was. he tuned out how you begged to be stuffed - breeded like a good little girl. but instead as soon as his cock started to let out the thick cum, he pulled out letting it fall all over you painting your boobs, face, and pussy.

moving from the camera, tengen zoomed in on your shaking teary eyed fram laughing ()to himself. “s-supposed to be in me!” you cried out pussy pulsing in the worst way. “bad girls don’t get rewards mama and you know that”

#tengen x black reader #tengen x reader #tengen x chubby reader #tengen smut #tengen uzui x black reader #tengen uzui x reader #demon slayer tengen #tengen uzui smut #kny smut #kny x black reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x chubby reader #demon slayer x black reader #demon slayer smut #anime x chubby reader #anime smut #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #— writings!

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lavenlady · 3 months ago

Note

Hello!

May I request HCs of [TFA] Optimus Prime meeting a variant of Cybertronian![S/O] [Gender Neutral], his Conjunx Endura, from the [TFP] universe?

[Prompt]: During a battle in Detroit, Optimus was almost decimated until a blast of energy hit the Decepticon, letting go of the team leader which saved him. Who shot the ‘Con down was none other than [S/O], his dear Sparkmate. Well, a variant of [S/O] since they appeared in a different frame (bigger, sturdier; their alt-mode is a Bugatti Veyron), equipped with blasters + weapons and is more experienced in combat like they fought in the Cybertronian War for many Stellar Cycles.

After the battle, [S/O] explained they came from another universe and their war was still ongoing, needing to return back (which TFA!Team Prime would gladly help out).

They have also revealed to be conjunxed to [TFP] Optimus Prime (this information would surprise the young Prime after asking questions about their universe).

Here you go @swiftyangx12 ! Enjoy!

✩ Another Dimension ✩ | Tfa & Tfp x Tfp!GN!Cybertronian!Reader

♤ It was a day like any other - fighting Decepticons and that stuff. Though this one was different than the rest they had seen so far. It had sturdier and much bigger fram than them, even for a Decepticon

♤ A battle took place in Detroit, our team struggling to defeat the enemy, they managed to get close to Optimus with intent to offline him

♤ The leader of the small team was luckily saved by an unknown blast of energy, shooting the Decepticon helm off

♤ When they saw the saviour, they were confused - you looked so similar yet so different

♤ Only after a careful examination they recognized you - you were Optimus' Sparkmate, but something wasn't adding up

♤ When did you get so big?!

♤ You quickly explained that you were in fact you, just from another universe, where the war is still ongoing and you needed to get back as soon as possible

♤ The Prime's team gladly lends a helping servo

♤ Everyone was confused, a long ago discontinued Bugatti Veyron driving though the streets of Detroit. You wondered why you got stares, only to discover that you come from an universe that takes place years ago

♤ The team was interested about your world and asked questions, well mostly Bumblebee did

♤ Optimus was taken back when you revealed that you were Sparkmates with your Optimus - you really were ment to be, you and him together in another universe? It was wonderful

♤ You, the good spark you are, decided to give advice in combat

♤ While Bulkhead and Ratchet, along with Professor Sumdac were working on your way to return home - you started getting along with Optimus from this universe

♤ Miko wouldn't believe you, Optimus who can laugh and joke? She would immediately want to see for herself

♤ Your time with the team ended as you bid your last goodbyes and returned to your beloved

" [Y/N], where were you?! "

" Miko, I need you to sit down for me. Now, listen closely - "

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

( Hope you liked it! )

(Master list)

( Request away! )

#transformers #tfa #transformers animated #transformers prime #cybertronian reader #lavenladywrites

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joocomics · 1 year ago

Text

LOSER(S)

⌞ PART TWO ⌝

pairing: youtuber!theo x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 2.9k words

the charming guy running the youtube channel you enjoy watching mostly because of him, and not the games he’s playing, moves in the apartment across from yours, and turns out to be the biggest asshole you’ve encountered in years

✎… neighbours au, enemies to lovers trope, switch!reader, slight angry sex, unprotected sex, cussing, banter, dirty talk, choking (m!rec), oral sex (f!rec), orgasm denial (f!rec), name calling

( p1h masterlist )

“Wow, you’re an asshole in real life,” you keep talking bitterly with little flames in your eyes. “I’m actually impressed with your acting skills.”

A frustrated airy laugh slips through your lips while Taeyang’s, on the other hand, curl up at the corners, amused at how seriously you’re taking this whole situation.

“Sorry to ruin the little fantasy you had of me, sweetheart.”

“You should be glad that I prefer to spend my time doing anything else than dealing with you,” you turn to your front door and flip the key, “cause I can just call the cops.”

“Are you sure that’s what you really prefer?”

This is not the first time you and Choi Taeyang are fighting in the middle of the hallway, nor it would be the last - unless you move buildings. His youtube channel is growing rapidly, and that calls for more content and less peace for you.

He's still leaning against the door fram, headset hanging from his neck. The subtle mischievous spark in his eyes, the one you know so well from the numerous videos you’ve seen from him, is so different in real life - straight up mean, making you question why you used to find his channel fun and comforting despite the terrifying games he plays.

“You’re at my fucking door almost every single night - maybe I should be the one calling them.” he continues. “You seem more of a stalker than a marketing manager.”

“Fuck off,” you spit out entering your apartment. “You’re a pathetic loser with no life.”

“Bitch.” Taeyang slams the door of his home the second you shut yours.

A month ago, you couldn't wait to finish work and hop on the bus to head back home.

Now, you go home on foot so it can take you extra minutes to arrive.

The time you finish work is the time Taeyang comes back from the gym, and by the hour you're lounging in bed, ready to relax with your new favorite show, is the hour he turns on the usual scary games, and transforms your cozy time in a mirage. Today, is going to be no different because he has zero empathy for people’s feelings, so you take your time, walking towards the elevator of your apartment building.

“Wait!”

You make out the too familiar voice echoing in the hallway along with the stamping sound of his footsteps just when you press the button.

You wish the ground could open and swallow him mid-step.

Not even glancing your way, Taeyang runs through the open doors.

You follow after him faking a smile. His ebony black hair is half-wet and his outfit casual - a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain t-shirt under his zip up hoodie. Judging by the bag with beer cans in his hand, your guesses are correct - his workout is done and he's about to take his seat in front of the computer.

The unnerving silence fills the air the second the doors close.

“Next time fill up your mouth with your panties or something,” Taeyang looks up nonchalantly at the changing numbers. “What if you accidentally scream my name? I don’t wanna hear that.”

His lips scrunch into an overdramatic expression of disgust; his shoulders jerk as an attempt to get rid of the image in his head.

You knew putting your earphones to blast music while using your vibrator is risky - sometimes you do tend to be more vocal than others. But what were you supposed to do when all of his exaggerated yelling and cussing comes through the wall exactly where your bed is?

You can’t touch yourself during the day because you’re at work, and now, you can’t do it before sleeping because of him.

Your fake snickering rings hollow in the small space. You look away, but it’s pointless, you cannot escape his face. You both see each other in the reflecting glass that’s all around you; it’s a little blurry, but not enough to not be aware of the fact you’re both staring at each other’s silhouettes.

“Good to know you take off that headset once in a while,” you raise your chin up, “maybe I should touch myself more often if that’s gonna help a loser like you finally get a life.”

The doors slide open, and you walk out first, feeling Taeyang’s gaze all over your ass.

“Is your boring corporate job stressing you out, sweetheart?” He calls out behind you, as you walk down the corridor. Unlike other times, his voice tilts with a hint of seduction rather than irritation. “Is that why you’re taking your anger out on me since day one?”

“I love my job,” you say steadily, hearing him catching up with your pace.

“And you hate mine.”

“Because of you!” You freeze in one place. When you turn around, glaring at him, is when you realise you’ve reached your apartment. “It’s your lack of responsibility and consideration I have a problem with, not what you do.”

“Shh,” Taeyang lifts a finger in front of his plush lips, “you’re going to disturb the neighbours.”

For the first time in your life, you feel the urge to slap a person.

He steps closer, shamelessly staring at your cleavage; your chest is heaving rapidly beneath the thin layer of your button up shirt - an overwhelming reaction he can associate only with himself, and the thrill he brings to your body.

Without even touching you.

“Want me to help you out with that?” His voice dips slightly. “I can help you relieve some of the pressure, doll… most of it.”

You breathe in once, looking in his eyes.

You breathe in twice… recognising the fresh earthy aroma coming from his skin, from his damp hair.

It’s not your voice that gives him an answer, but your lips that smash against his own.

That’s exactly what Taeyang hoped for.

His arms immediately go around your waist, pulling you close after he drops the bag of beer cans on the ground. His hands slide down to grip your butt cheeks through the linen fabric of your pants - it’s too thin, and his cock instantly gains pressure from how much it allows him to feel inside his palms.

“My place or yours?” You pull back to quickly ask before kissing him again.

Taeyang’s hands crawl up, sneaking beneath your shirt.

“You already know what my room looks like, it’s time I see yours.”

“That’s fair.”

He doesn’t leave you out of sight as he gets rid of his clothes while you unbutton your shirt across the room. Once you’re left in your lingerie, he doesn’t give you a chance to remove it. He pushes you onto the bed and begins to covering your skin with wet kisses the second your back hits the mattress.

You look gorgeous in that lace anyways, - he doesn’t mind if it stays on a little longer.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he mutters against the flesh of your tummy before grinding his tongue around your bellybutton. His hands move to squish your breasts; they make you gasp softly with their harsh grip. “Fuck, drives me crazy.”

His teeth bite the hem of your lace panties, then pull, letting it drop with a smack.

When he readjusts to lock lips with yours again, his mouth seems to move even more eagerly than it did minutes ago. His tongue invades you with something close to frustration, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

But you rather get that yourself.

“What the—“ He stumbles around his words, surprised to suddenly find himself turned on his back.

You swiftly succeed in straddling his hips; too lost in the taste of your lips, he didn’t get the chance to react in time to prevent you from getting on top.

“Shut up,” you bark, unclipping your bra; simultaneously rubbing your clit against his stiffened length as you do. You still have your panties on, and you catch his gaze darkening from wanting to rip them off. “Mmm, your cock is so hard...”

“Take it in your greedy mouth then.” He grips your hips, forcing them to move quicker. “Isn’t this what you wanted all along?”

“Yeah, but that would be too easy.”

Taeyang laughs bitterly before grasping onto your arms to bring your face down into his.

You gasp, but there's a smile creeping upon your face. You can’t hide the enjoyment from his rough responses to every single thing you do.

“These tricks don’t work on me, doll. Be a good girl and do as I say from now on.”

“You’re not the only player here, pretty boy.” You pull his plump bottom lip with teeth. Beneath you, his erection twitches against your clit - both from the bite and your attitude. “I will suck your dick when I decide you’ve earned it.”

But then, Taeyang flips you over in a flash.

Just as quickly, he strips you from your panties only to push them inside your mouth. His hands bend your knees, his fingertips dig into your skin finally spreading you apart. As his mouth waters from the seductive sight of what’s between your thighs, yours spit out the underwear.

“Tsk,” Taeyang picks it up, and muffles your irritated whines by returning them back where they were. “What an ungrateful doll. I’m doing you a favor and this is how you say thank you?”

He presses his palm over your mouth to keep the fabric in place while his other one gives your right boob a slap - followed by a few more as he caught you making a muffled sound of what sounded like pleasure.

Eventually, the grumpy look on your face dissipates into a rapture as he goes down on you.

The pleasure from his tongue comes in waves, each more powerful than the other. He alternates between sucking and lapping on your juices while also playing with the pacing of his licks over your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, you taste too sweet for such an angry girl,” he groans before gliding his flat tongue through your sloppy folds only to swirl the tip of it around your clit again.

And you eat pussy too well for such a loser.

Your chin begins to leak from your drooling; the moisture trickles down your neck as your panties get soaked with your moans and spit. The fact you’re not able to be loud as you need to makes your jaw clench with frustration, but your pussy - even more aroused under Taeyang’s tongue.

His grip on your thighs tightens painfully, limiting your shakiness as he buries his coarse mouth even deeper, grazing his teeth against your intimate lips ever so often; tongue tracing stripes from your dripping hole up to your most sensitive point, over and over again.

He makes out with your entire cunt the same way he kisses you - mean with desire to control.

“I can make it feel even better if you promise not to empty your filthy mouth,” he glances up at you, giving you a nice view of all the glistening fluids all over his attractive face.

You nod - almost too quickly, you realise, but most of the stubbornness left you the moment his tongue attached to you for the first time.

You clench at the sheets; your fingers are already tempted to pull out the underwear the more his swollen tip levels with your entrance.

You’ve never taken such big size before, and your heart starts racing excitedly at the thought of this appealing girth sinking inside you.

“Shit,” Taeyang’s brows knit together while his length fills you up bit by bit, tightening the knot of pleasure in his core. “You’re too fuckin’ small and tight for me.”

He inserts it all the way, slowly, wanting you to feel the way you suck in every inch of him; wanting you to know just how bad you've been needing him. However, once it’s in, his patience dies down, giving his hips the freedom to move as quickly as possible.

Taeyang runs a hand through his dark hair, then moves it over your lower tummy, pressing against his cock that’s reaching the desired spot over and over again. His sharp gaze follows the way your eyes flutter in bliss as the rush he creates invades your body.

Once he leans over, hanging your right leg over his shoulder for a deeper thrust, your repressed mewls rise even higher; erotic heavy growls just like in the videos he watches to jerk off.

“We get along so much better when you have your mouth shut, don’t you think?” He pants in your face while holding himself up on his hands.

A low groan escapes his puffy lips before he could catch it, but your fingers, suddenly buried in his hair to pull him closer feels too thrilling not to react.

With one tilt of his head Taeyang drops your panties down after stealing them from your mouth with his teeth.

“Mind if I keep those?” He asks, and receives the first raw moan of yours as an answer.

It would be a foolish lie if he says he won’t be thinking about that sound after this.

“A souvenir from my biggest fan…” He whispers in your ear and you can feel the intoxicating effect his voice alone has on you.

His hips slow down for the first time, moving slowly in circles so he can catch his breath.

“Shit, Tae… Faster.” You pull his hair as if you’re holding on for dear life. You sense every inch of him; the way those slow massaging motions make you dizzier.

“Faster?” He repeats, giving you a sudden powerful slam from his hips instead. “Are you close?” He pulls out almost all the way only to shove himself again, stabbing your g-spot. “Wanna cum… is that it?”

“Yeah…” Your whimper gets lost from the lewd noises as he proceeds to pound into you. This time, rapidly without stopping even for a second. The skin on skin slapping merges with Taeyang’s hitched heavy breathing, but he still manages to catch the little broken yes-es coming from underneath him. “Fuck—“

Your mouth suddenly drops open. But not because your awaited climax arrives, - because Taeyang pulls out just before it does.

The burning dissatisfaction from what was about to be your most intense orgasm, being stolen from you, forces you to turn over and wail in your pillow.

“Shh,” Taeyang quickly turns you back around, slapping your inner thigh with his drenched cock. Your squirmy lips bring a devilish smirk on his face. “It’s not that bad, doll, c'mon. You can take it.”

A moment later, his eyes watch you suspiciously raising up.

You grab the base of his dick determined to take charge.

“I wanted to cum so bad from this pretty cock,” you say, moving your fist up and down. “That wasn't nice of you.” He stills on his knees - with his unbelievably captivating plump lips and cold gaze, trying to figure you out.

His face begins to scrunch up from your quickening hand, and the way your playful thumb keeps going over his red tip like it knows just when is the perfect time to do it.

His composure begins to crack.

“I’ve never had such a big one in my pussy before, you know…” You add onto his arousal. “Feels really good.”

“Shit,” Taeyang throws his head back. His chest rises heavily while his abs clench from the stimulation. “Just good?” He lifts up to look at you challengingly.

It drives him nuts - how you always manage to lit up a fire in his chest by irritating him and turning him on at the same damn time.

“Go on,” You provoke him, squeezing the leaky shape of his head. “You’ve called me worse than that.”

Taeyang gulps once you drop his erection only to grip it with your aroused gummy walls instead. You both sigh in sync as you get in contact with the electrifying warmth once again. Now, it feels ten times more intense.

Although it’s subtle, you don’t miss the change in his expression when you begin to bounce, just the you wanted to in the beginning.

“Don’t.” You command the second you sense the presence of his hands on your waist, desperate to regain control. “You’re going to let me do this.”

You quicken your movements, watching him chew on his mouth from the overwhelming rush he desperately tries to keep under control.

“Why…” Taeyang’s voice comes out too breathless to continue the question.

The fact your hand wraps around his throat, putting pressure on the sides of his neck doesn’t help either. This is the first time he allows something like this. His heart flutters in new unfamiliar ways from a thrill he hasn't known till now.

“Why what, pretty boy?” You slow down, curious to know what he’s thinking about.

Taeyang only shakes his head, turning his knuckles white from gripping the sheets. He wants to push you on your back, to cuss at you, and fuck you till you get sore, and can’t utter a single word to him, but... he’s captivated.

It’s like with each touch you secretly cast a spell on him, and he’s unable to break through.

The only thing he could say is…

“Just keep going.”

You smile, tilting his chin higher to meet his eyes.

The speed of your lower body picks up. You begin to ride him chasing your high - with the head of his cock kissing right where you need it. Listening to the most arousing sounds, how they slip one by one from his lips that begin to pout with every next roll of your hips.

“Holy shit—“ Taeyang chokes on his moan moving his hands on your waist, but not interrupting your movements.

Then, he chokes on your name next.

“Not yet,” you warn him, feeling shivers down your spine from the way he keeps panting your name. “Wait for me.” You release his throat, trying your best to keep the good pace going.

Taeyang cusses in the crook of your neck where he starts biting harshly to distract himself from how bad he needs to cum; not caring that you hiss at all.

“Can’t…” he grunts against the wet skin under your earlobe. “Fuck, come on, cream my cock you slut.” He grabs a handful of your hair, and that turns out to be just enough.

The overwhelming knot in your tummy snaps.

You rock your hips back and forth more slowly, panting as the ecstatic rush passes through your veins.

Then, Taeyang’s voice surprises you with a weak rasp.

“You’re amazingly hot.”

Your two fingers slip through his lips. He allows that too.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

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peachglazewrites · 5 months ago

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𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: PTSD, nightmares, blood/gore, minor oc death, medical procedures, misunderstandings 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: friends to lovers, angst, slow burn 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6842k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you have a nightmare, and Nora needs a hand.

̗̀➛ master post

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ save/read the fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: IV

“How high up do you think we are?” Casey asks, precariously balancing herself on the edge of the broken overpass. Her shuffling feet send stray pebbles tumbling over the ledge to fall and sprinkle over the roof of a long-abandoned car.

The lone clicker underneath screeches in the direction of the noise, stumbling its way over to follow the noise.

“20 feet, give or take. High enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about that Clicker down there by the time you landed.” You hum, rolling your shoulders and adjusting your hold on your rifle. The casing creaks as you grip it, eyes sweeping over your surroundings.

Back turned to the edge of the overpass, all you see are a few of the other grunts from your unit. Some are taking a collective smoke break as they lean against the barriers, others relieving themselves in semi-privacy behind a car or two. It’s the end of the line before you turn back, and everyone’s stretching their legs before needing to pile back into the truck once more.

Casey kicks a slightly bigger pebble down off the ledge, snorting as the clicker contorts its mangled body around to chase the sound. It’s been bumping around the maze of cars since before you got here. Poor bastard probably won’t be able to find his way out by himself.

Red hair spills over her shoulder from her ponytail as Casey leans down, picking up a few decently sized rocks and settling them in the cup of her hand. She rights herself and picks one, tongue peeking out from between her lips as she practices a throw, closing one of her eyes to focus in on her target.

“Do you think the… what the fuck is it called… velocity? Something like that. Do you think it’d be enough to kill the fucking thing if I threw this at it from here?”

You frown, turning to her as she lets the rock go, sending it hurtling down towards the clicker. It just misses its head, smashing into smaller pieces on the ground at its feet. The creature screeches, spinning around in a tight circle as it rolls out those guttural clicking noises from its throat.

It feels cruel in a weird way. This thing, as hard as it is to see it past the rotted flesh and casing of fungus growing out of its eyes, was a person once. Maybe they weren’t a good one, in whatever way goodness is measured nowadays, but they were alive. They came from a family, maybe had one of their own. And now they’re a husk, a vessel for whatever the fuck this infection is, left to stagger around an impossible maze of Hondas and Fords.

Casey curses, picking another one of her stones from her dusty palm. Her feet inch ever so closer to the crumbling ledge, body tilting forward as she practices her aim once more. She locks in, winding her arm back and throwing the rock down quick as a shot.

You can barely see it connect this time, clipping the edge of the hardened plates covering the clicker’s face before bouncing off somewhere else. It swipes furiously at the air in front of itself, hunching forward and twitching its head wildly from side to side. It roars furiously, a wave of clicking ripping up the inside of its throat.

“Okay, Case. You hit it. Now leave it alone.”

You can’t rip your eyes away from the scene, a wild aggression that only something inhuman could exhibit.

Casey drops the rocks from her hand, the remaining few scattering across the ground and bouncing off the ledge. They hit the cars directly underneath and the clicker throws itself wildly against them. It bashes itself over and over against the metal frames, putting sizable dents into the doors.

“Case. Seriously.” You scold, turning away from the carnage finally to face her.

Blood trickles from between the fingers she has wrapped around her throat, eyes wide and bulging out of their sockets as she chokes. A horrific gurgling escapes her, lips moving as she tries to call out, teeth and tongue coated in a thick, sticky red.

Her body tips forward as she crumbles in on herself, legs giving out beneath her. You barely catch the feathered end of an arrow sticking out of the base of her skull before she rolls off the ledge.

Your body reacts before your brain, lunging to grab her hand, her leg, anything before she falls that deathly distance and the ground, the clicker, or both kills her before you can take her to a medic.

But you’re too slow, a searing pain in your leg making you falter and just miss her, a wisp of her shirt brushing against your fingertips as she falls down, down, down until her body crunches on the broken ground below.

You fall to your knees, panting hard and maybe you’re screaming you don’t know but your throat hurts. Your vision is blurry around the edges, and you blink, scrunching your eyes tight, praying to every god that you can think of that this was just a fucked up daydream and that Casey isn’t down there so far away and dying.

But it’s not Casey down there when you blink your eyes open.

Her red hair that’s always piled high into a ponytail is expertly braided at the base of her skull, dirty blonde strands sticking to the river of blood gushing from the hole in her throat. Her dead brown eyes are now a hazy blue as they stare right into your own, and her arms that are broken and twisted under her frame are bulkier than you have ever seen them.

You scream.

⸙

You’re still screaming when your eyes snap open, the hand gently gripping your arm yanking itself away. There’s scrambling, something being knocked off your bedside table before the light of your lamp practically blinds you.

“Hey! Hey, it’s just me. It’s Mel.”

It takes a few moments for you to get your wits about you, hands coming to muffle the end of your dying scream, eyes blinking the tears blurring your vision away. You’re panting hard as you look up at the figure in front of you. Sure enough, Mel’s leaning over you, hands pulled back from your body.

“Mel? What the fuck… What time is it?” You feel a little guilty for swearing, but you can still hear your heartbeat in your ears and your fingers feel kind of numb and oh god are you having a heart attack?

“It’s just after six in the morning. I’m so sorry, I came to wake you up, but you just started screaming-- “

You try to close your eyes again to get your breathing under control, but all you can see behind your eyelids is that familiar, lovely face coated in blood, jaw slack and eyes open as she stares up at you.

So instead you focus on the polaroids above you in the slats of your bunk, searching for her face in the backgrounds to see her alive and smirking that frustratingly beautiful smirk.

You take some deep breaths, forcing yourself up on your elbows as you look around the room. The curtains are still drawn, but through the gaps you can see that it’s still very clearly dark outside. Your eyes settle on Mel, still in her pyjamas.

“Why are you up? Isn’t it our day off?” You scrub a hand over your face, rubbing and picking at the sleep in the corner of your eye.

Mel smiles down at you, soft and apologetic. You can tell she wants to talk about whatever just happened, but knows that you’ll refuse to answer. The two of you had done this dance before, her wanting you to open up about the things that plague you in your sleep, and you thinking you’d rather die than spend any of your precious waking moments thinking about them.

“It is, but Nora just came by and said that a few people have called out. They need more hands, especially with the patrol near the island coming back.”

Right, the patrol. Abby’s on that one. So is Manny and a few other of your friends, but you’re not missing them like you miss Abby. It’s only been a few days since you’ve seen her, but you’re clearly not coping well.

Fuck.

You groan, flopping back onto the mattress, arm slung over your eyes. “When do they want us in?”

“You’re due down there in an hour.”

You shift your arm up, peaking at her out of one eye. “And you?”

Mel points with her thumb over her shoulder, “I’m due back in bed.”

“Oh, come on.” you protest, sitting back up in bed. “You volunteered me, didn’t you.”

“I volunteered the both of us, but Nora insisted I stay back. She heard about our eight-day streak and wants me to rest.”

“And what am I? Chopped liver? I also worked eight days straight.” You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child.

“And you’ll get your day off. You can swap with someone to have tomorrow.” She crosses her arms back, leaning against the frame of the bed. “If you really don’t want to do it, I can go in, but I think this will be good for you. Nora’s been doing this for longer than I have. You might learn a lot from an afternoon shadowing her.”

You eye her, the frown still furrowing your brows as you really think it over. Maybe you could deal with being a bad friend to get a few more hours of sleep.

Sighing, you swing your legs over the side of the bunk. “I’m up. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’ll thank me later.” She smirks to herself as she walks back down the steps to her side of the room. “You want me to bring you lunch? My treat.”

“…. Fine.”

You’ve decided to forgive her.

Slithering onto the floor, you run through your quick morning exercises on the plush carpet. If you take some extra time to just lay there and breathe, neither you nor Mel say anything.

Finally deciding to get up and get dressed, you strip down to your underwear on your way to your closet. They’ll be picked up later. Probably.

You find and pull on a pair of pants you don’t care about getting stained with blood or… other fluids, expecting the day to be particularly messy and busy. The Island patrols never come back unscathed.

The clothes hangers screech along the pole as you rifle through your shirt options, the high-pitched noise echoing in your head. The recent memory of the clicker under the overpass flashes in your mind. It sends a wave of chills down your arm, mind reeling as you try to cling onto your reality.

You’re here in your room with Mel. Casey has been gone for months. Abby is… You don’t know where Abby is.

You grip the sleeve of a shirt too tight, accidently pull it off its hanger.

Blinking down at your hand, it takes you a second to recognise the shirt as not your own, but one of Abby’s. You hold it to your chest, picking up the right sleeve to idly thumb over the three-inch tear you stitched up for her. It was the shirt that she was wearing when she got her arm cut up, and she was annoyed about having to turn one of her better long sleeves into a tank.

“Why don’t you just stitch it up?” you ask, jogging lightly on the treadmill.

She scoffs, rolling her shoulders back as she easily keeps up the same pace on her own machine. Her last attempt at any kind of sewing was when she tried to fix her socks, and that took more time than she’d like to admit. “Are you kidding me? It’s easier just to cut the entire thing off.”

“I mean, yeah.” You roll your eyes, pressing a few buttons to make the incline higher on the treadmill. “But that doesn’t make it the only option. Bring it over next time and I’ll do it for you.”

“You sew?” She looks at your curiously, wiping a hand over the crown of her head to tame the fly-aways.

“Abby. It’s half of what I do anymore.”

Her cheeks colour. “Right. Medic. Forgot.”

Before you can think too much of it you throw the shirt on, taking time to roll the sleeves that are slightly too long up to your elbows. It’d been washed before she gave it to you, but it still smells faintly of her despite being bundled with your own clothes.

She better be okay, or you’ll kill her.

You grab your canteen and an apple from the counter before you head out, pack slung over your shoulder as you say goodbye to a sleepy Mel and make your way down the flights of steps, into the Stadium proper. Theres always a degree of hustle and bustle, but it’s much quieter this early. The only people up are the cooks, those switching from night patrols, and the other medics that Nora must have woken up.

It’s a quick trip down to the tents, not having to weave in and out of the crowd. The sun is just starting to rise when you step outside into the cold, throwing pink and deep orange hues over the sky, diffused by the clouds. Sometimes when you work overnight with Mel, you’ll come out here, bundled up in your jackets and if it’s particularly cold, those ridiculous looking foil thermal blankets as you drink hot tea from your thermos and watch the sun rise. Its horribly indulgent, but sometimes it’s just what you need.

Nora is setting up the cots when you enter, pushing the flap of the tent open. A few other medics are milling around, some having just woken up, others having never gone to sleep.

“You owe me one, Harris.” You grumble as you walk past, moving to the back room where you all keep your personal belongings in a row of plastic tubs under a bench. You dump your bag and coat in one and kick it back under the bench, barely catching a bundle of sheets that gets thrown at you the moment you turn back around.

“Such is the life of a medic. Unfortunately, you’ll just have to get used to it.” Nora smirks, nodding her head to a row of stripped cots.

“I know, I know.” You wave her off, grumbling into the linens as you shuffle past her.

⸙

The early morning is slow, filled with doing the rounds of current patients and pre-emptively getting things ready for the patrol. A good portion of your morning is dedicated to disinfecting rolls and rolls of bandages, hanging them from fishing line strung across the ceiling to dry before being coiled back up again.

It’s just after midday when the first wave of people come in, throwing the whole tent into chaos. Two men holding another one up between them rush in, his feet dragging along the ground in his unconscious state. Another comes in with his left hand wrapped in his shirt, the fabric soaked in his blood. Nora is quick to bark out orders, delegating patients to medics, assigning empty cots to those who need them.

During the first hour you help her with the most urgent cases, sticking off to the side to pass her equipment or to hold something in place when she needs it. It’s much too hectic for her to walk you through what she’s doing, but being able to observe her is enlightening enough on its own. You finally get to see some of the techniques and procedures you’ve read about in practice, watching Nora’s nimble hands sew together someone’s bit-open cheek and amputate multiple fingers off one hand.

Hour two whisks you away to deal with multiple smaller procedures; knife wounds, dislocated shoulders, bumps and scrapes. There was one poor bastard with early stages of trench foot, and you had to embarrassingly pull out a textbook to be able to figure out what to do.

The work keeps your mind busy, thoughts occupied as you juggle three patients at once. When one gets discharged, another takes their place.

With each soldier rotating in and out of the tents, the fact that Abby and Manny aren’t amongst them makes you feel sicker and sicker.

Hour four is when everything finally calms down, the last few of the less injured patients getting discharged and the critically injured set up and resting.

Mel had come past at some point during the rush with a couple of containers for you and Nora, a salad and some sourdough each, hidden away in one of the personal item tubs. The greens are wilted and sad by the time you two get to them, but the soft crusty bread makes up for it all.

Nora sits criss-cross on the cot you keep parked in the back for emergency naps, salad nestled in her lap. You’ve stationed yourself right near the entrance to the main room, keeping an eye on the front tent flap as you eat.

“Stop.”

You look to Nora, a piece of lettuce hanging from your mouth as you crunch. “Huh?”

“Time drags on when you’re waiting for something to happen.”

“So?”

She rolls her eyes, stabbing a fork in your direction. “Stop watching the door. You’ll turn yourself crazy.”

Sighing, you turn back to your food.

“Just worried.” You pout.

“I know. Could see you stressing all morning.” Her eyes flick over to the front entrance. “But thinking about it is just going to make it worse. Keep focused. Those people out there need you on top of your game.”

It’s not exactly a reprimand, but it’s close enough for you to feel a twinge of shame tug at your heart. Nora’s known these people for a lot longer than you have, and though you’re sure she’s worried, she’s not distracted by it like you are.

“You’re right. Sorry.” You mumble, stuffing the last bite of sourdough in your mouth to have an excuse to not talk anymore. Conversation over.

“You did good, today.” Nora offers, turning back to her own salad. “I know I shoved a lot onto you at the end there, but you handled it well.” She turns a piece of cucumber around on her fork, inspecting it before popping it in her mouth. “I’d say you’re not too long from doing this by yourself.”

You can’t help but flush at the praise, purposefully avoiding her eyes. “You think? I’m worried I’m gonna mess up. I had to make Rob hold the skin falling off his foot while I looked up what to do…”

Nora grimaces, putting down her fork full of lettuce. “Nah, you’ve got it. Do you think any of us know what we’re doing?”

You look at her then, arching one of your eyebrows at her.

“Okay, maybe some of us do,” she smirks, “But even I fuck up sometimes. Bad calls made in the heat of the moment. But there’s only so much we can do with what we’ve been given.”

“If you’re sure.”

She winks at you. “Positive.”

Turns out Nora is right about a lot of things. You will do fine, and you’re not as bad of a medic as you think.

And apparently time does drag on when you’re waiting for something to happy, as the flap to the front of the tent flies open, frantic yelling spilling into the room what feels like only moments after your conversation.

“Hey, we need a doctor over here!”

Manny.

You dispose of the remnants of your food, tossing it to the side into a bin as you and Nora rush out. Manny greets you, shakily standing in the middle of the room, propping up a sluggish Abby. They’re both dirty, clothes soaked in mud and rain. Manny has a scrape above his eye, squinting as blood and sweat trickling down into it.

Abby looks… much worse. Her entire front is soaked in blood. You entertain the delusion that it’s not hers, but you know better than that. Her face has started to pale, and though she’s conscious, her eyes are roaming, unfocused, and she’s sweating bullets.

“Oh my god—Abby!”

You’re there quick as a shot, ducking to her side to swing her other arm over your shoulders. She’s so heavy, barely holding herself up.

“Abby? Can you hear me?”

Her head lolls onto your shoulder.

“Stop… yelling.”

You look to Manny over her head, meeting his tired eyes. Sweat drips from his temples, the strain of holding her up getting to him. Nora, having cleared off a cot to the side, ushers the three of you over to it.

“What the fuck happened?” You help Manny lower her onto the mattress, blood squelching through her clothes and onto your own as you manoeuvre her.

“We were on that patrol. The Island,” Manny pants, stepping away to let you and Nora have space to work. He paces up and down the aisle between the rows of cots. “Weren’t meant to be so many. We had intel that they numbers were low. That they wouldn’t be that far out.” He swears, angry words tumbling into Spanish as he slumps in a hard plastic visitor chair. He’s gesturing towards Abby as he curses, frown lines deepening as he scowls.

“Shut the fuck up.” Abby groans, blinking her eyes open to glare at Manny. He raises a finger to point in her direction, swearing louder at her.

She tries to sit up, fist clenched and raising as she tries to get to Manny, but you and Nora jump in to hold her down.

“She got shot in the chest,” Manny continues in English. “Arrow sticking right out of her. Idiot tried pulling the fucking thing out, but it snapped inside. Didn’t realise she was bleeding so bad until we got out of there. She just collapsed.”

Nora wastes no time, using a pair of scissors to cut open Abby’s shirt, peeling it away from her skin. Sure enough, through the sticky blood you see a wound in the right side of her chest, just above the swell of her breast.

“Tried to stop the bleeding but I think she tore something, and by the time we got back to the trucks everyone had left. So we had to fucking walk—“ He runs a hand through his hair and scratchy, unkempt beard, looking between you and Abby. His expression shifts from angry to concerned.

“She’ll be okay?”

You pale, looking down at her on the cot. She’s still conscious, but her breathing is getting more ragged, and her hair is soaked in sweat. She looks just like how she did in your dream. Your nightmare. She’s dying and there’s nothing you can do--

Nora calls your name.

“We need to get this out. Get me the forceps and a rag.”

The look she gives you is hard, one that screams for you to get it together. It’s just enough to pull you out of your spiral, and with one last look at Abby, you try to put yourself together enough to do your job.

Finding the medical cart, you pull out a rag and pick out a set of extraction forceps as Nora clears the site, wiping away excess blood so that she can try and see what she’s doing. The forceps you end up choosing were most definitely meant for dentistry, but they should have enough of a grip to pull out the thin shaft from her chest.

“Fucking… hurts.” Abby groans, trying to bat Nora’s hand away and roll onto her side. You hurry back over to the other side of the cot, pushing down gently on her shoulder to coax her to lie back.

“Shhh,” you hush her, pressing down with more force. She’s still so strong, even after losing who knows how much blood. “Abby, you needto lay down. We’re going to fix you right up, but you need to stay still. Okay?”

She huffs and falls back, hissing as her shoulder hits the cot mattress. “M’fine,” she mumbles, rolling her head to the side to look at you. “Just need to… sleep it off…”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her stubbornness. It’s not so cute when she’s bleeding out. “Sleeping is the opposite of what we want. Keep your eyes open, Abs.”

Nora presses her fingers around the wound, pulling the skin taught and prodding at the bulging mass underneath. Blood oozes from the hole and Abby hisses, biting her tongue to stop the cry of pain.

“Okay. Alright. I can see and feel it. Just need to pull it out.” Nora sticks out a hand, palm up. “Pass me the forceps. Give her the rag to bite down on.”

You nod, folding the rag so that it’s a thick roll.

“This is going to really hurt. Bite this.” You press the rag to Abby’s lips. Reluctantly, her mouth opens and she bites down on it, grinding her teeth on the fabric as she looks up at you.

“Ready?”

She nods.

Nora pulls at the skin, moving it into a better position before digging the forceps right in.

Abby’s back arches off the cot, a low moan deafened by the rag escaping her chest. One of her hands grips the edge of the bed, the other clamping down on your forearm. As Nora digs the forceps deeper, Abby’s nails bite into your flesh, making you wince. Using your other hand, you wiggle your fingers between your arm and her fingers, gently prying her hand away and taking it in your own. She’s quick to tighten her grip, crushing your fingers at an especially nasty jab.

It's tough to watch, because it’s Abby or it’s the horrible squelching noises you don’t know, but you keep an eye on Nora as she finally clamps down on the shaft of the arrow. She takes a moment to carefully adjust her grip before she begins to pull.

Manny curses from behind you, looking away from the scene as Abby groans once more into the rag. Her breathing is quick and heaving, sweat pouring from her face and chest.

“Almost done. You’re doing so well,” you try and hush, the circulation in your fingers long gone.

You have no idea if you’re telling the truth. It’s impossible to tell how long the arrow is inside of her chest, but it feels like it’s never ending as Nora slowly drags it out. The wound around it keeps trying to suck it back in, making a disgusting noise that makes Manny almost gag.

Nora ends up pushing down on Abby’s shoulder as the last inch or so slides out, Abby unconsciously rising to try and stop the pain. Her groan borders on a yell as Nora yanks the arrow tip free, holding it up to the light to look it over.

“All in one piece,” she nods, looking over to you. “Okay. Let’s get this patched up and a drip going.”

You try to move away, pulling your hand from Abby’s iron grip, but she somehow holds you impossibly tighter.

“Don’t…” she pants, trying so hard to keep her eyes open and focused on you.

You frown, heart breaking at how small she looks right now. You so desperately want to stay, to comfort her, but you have a job to do. “Abby, I gotta—“

Nora places a hand on your upper arm, giving you a meaningful look when she catches your eye. “I’ve got it. Stay.”

Abby’s breathing slowly begins to even out as you stand there, hand clasped in hers, the other smoothing out the hair plastered to her forehead. She protests when Nora comes back over to flush the wound, giving it one last check with a penlight before stuffing gauze in to stop the bleeding. But already she’s already looking a lot better now that there’s not a random piece of wood underneath her skin.

She barely makes a sound when Nora sets up the IV.

“What were you thinking?” you murmur to her, squeezing her hand with numb fingers. She relaxes her grip on you slightly, enough to feel the blood rushing back to your fingertips but not to fully let you go.

“That there was an arrow in my tit and it fucking hurt.” She blinks up at you, corner of her mouth twitching up in that signature Abby smirk. Even on the brink of passing out she makes you feel that stupid swoop in your gut.

“I’d strangle you if you weren’t bleeding out right now,” you scold, only half joking. “You could have died, Abs.”

She sighs, letting out a long, shuddering breath. “Yeah.”

“Try not to?” The hand smoothing her hair slides down her face, cupping the side of her jaw so gently.

Her eyes flutter closed at the contact, giving a small nod as she relaxes into the palm of your hand.

⸙

Cold water sprays out of the taps as you and Nora wash up in the back room, using a bar of soap to scrub all the way up to your elbows.

You ended up staying with Abby for a little while longer, only leaving when the blood coating your hands started sticking your skin together as it dried. She’s stable, but not quite well enough to leave just yet. Manny was set with the task of getting her to drink an entire canteen of water after he got his own wound tended to.

You can hear the two of them arguing over it from the other room.

You place the bar of soap on its little tray by the sink, moving your arms under the spray to rinse all the suds away. A steady stream of pink flows down the drain.

“How long has that been going on?”

“What?” You peek at Nora from the side, picking the blood from under your nails.

Nora shakes her hands off, letting the water drip down off her fingertips as she reaches for a towel. “You and Abby.”

Your hands pause under the stream for a split second, only the noise of the tap and the two idiots outside arguing filling the silence. “I have no idea what you’re on about.” Turning the tap off, you reach for a second towel to dab at your hands.

“Uh huh,” she says, unconvinced. “So, you’re not totally into Isaac’s golden girl?”

Nora stares you down as you silently dry up, her arms crossing over her chest as she leans her hip against the sink. You can feel her gaze spear right through you, disintegrating your resolve. You can dance around it when Mel asks vague questions, but there’s no way you’d be able to outright lie to Nora.

Throwing the towel into a laundry hamper, you turn to face her. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Unfortunately so. You were nauseating out there.”

The tips of your ears grow hot. “Was not.”

“Was too. I’ve never seen you with such impeccable bedside manner.” She’s smirking at you, a teasing tilt to her lips. Your flush darkens, the heat spreading from the tips of your ears all the way down to your chin.

“My bedside manner is fine.” Huffing, you lean back next to her, facing the doorway that the arguing has finally quieted behind.

Nora’s hand reaches out, picking a few pieces of lint from the sleeve of your shirt. “Mmhm. How does Mel feel about it all?”

“She doesn’t know.”

Nora’s hand pauses. “About any of it?”

“She knows I’m into someone but just— Not… You know.” You stutter your words, growing more and more embarrassed by the whole thing by the second. This is the first time you’ve confided in someone about this, and speaking your situation out loud makes it apparent how fucked you are.

“Hm. Well, I told you that you were obvious-- ”

“Oh shut up,” you groan, swatting at her arm. “I’m screwed. You seriously can’t tell Mel about any of this.” You lower your voice to a hushed whisper, consciously keeping an eye on the open doorway that anyone could walk through.

Abby’s not in any position to be moving around right now, but she’s stubborn enough to rip that IV out the second Manny’s back is turned.

“I’m not going to run off and gossip to her the moment your back is turned,” Nora scoffs. “But I really don’t see the big deal.” She shrugs. “Sure, it’ll be awkward as hell, but I don’t think Mel’s going to shun you for your feelings.”

If only it were so simple.

“And when she finds out I’ve been sneaking her boyfriend’s ex into our shared apartment to stay the night whenever she’s not there?”

Nora’s eyes widen. “First of all, I need details, because what?” You cringe at her volume, crowding in on her as you try to hush her. You both look back to the door, checking behind you before dipping your heads together to keep talking. This time much quieter.

“Second, I maintain what I said before. It’ll be so awkward, and you’ll definitely need to talk about it, but Mel cares about you. She’s not going to throw away your friendship because things get kind of weird.”

She sounds so sure of herself, and you admit that it’s hard to not believe her just a little bit. She reaches out to grab the sides of your arms, dipping her head to catch your eye.

“Plus, between you and me, Abby is the one who makes it awkward half the time. She’ll hold a grudge until it weighs her down and drowns her.”

You sigh, looking up at her. “If you’re sure…”

“Positive.” She winks, squeezing your arms. “You probably won’t even have to worry about all that for a while anyway...”

Admittedly, you’re not as close to Nora as you are with Mel, living with someone being a completely different type of bond. But you’re close enough to recognise that look in her eye. The spark she gets when she’s just heard something juicy from a delirious patient or is about to meddle in someone else’s business.

“… Why? What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything. It’s Mel you need to worry about.”

You’re growing annoyed, your lips turning down into a frown to show it. “Can you be straight with me for a single second--?”

“I think Mel’s trying to set you up.” She butts in, biting the inside of her cheek to stop her grin. She thinks this is funny as hell, which bodes poorly for you.

Your face is blank as you look at her.

“Set me up? How?”

“With me. I think she’s trying to set you up with me.”

It’s like you’ve found the last piece to a puzzle, everything clicking together so you can finally see the entire picture. Mel had been so weird lately, asking where you’d been and who you’d been with any time you leave the apartment. The handful of times you’d mentioned Nora were the strangest had her smirking to herself for ages afterwards. You couldn’t figure out why she was acting this way.

Until now, at least.

“Look, love her to pieces, but I think I’ve seen more of her in the past two and a half weeks than I had in months. And not that I don’t love you either, but she’s always finding ways to bring you up and-- “

“Oh my god,” you groan, tilting forward to bury your head in Nora’s shoulder. Nora can’t help it, giving in just a little to laugh as her arms come around you in an embrace.

“She was pretty quick to volunteer you today when I said I needed one of you guys to come in, too. That was what really tipped me off. She never gives away shifts like that.”

She can barely hear you, muffled through her shirt, “She told me you told her to rest today, to not bother coming in.”

“Yeah, after she said she felt sick from staying up for 8 days straight.” She tuts, shaking her head, “Sneaky girl.”

“I can’t do this.” You groan.

“You make it sound like I’m the worst possible option,” she scoffs.

“No, seriously.” You pull away slightly, looking up at her. “What am I going to do? I can’t tell her to stop because then it’ll be way too obvious who I actually… you know. But I can’t not tell her. That’d be weird and cruel. She’ll be so embarrassed.” You want to dig yourself a nice hole and climb inside, to hide there and never have to see the light of day ever again.

“Maybe we just let it die out? Let her get it out of her system. She’ll see it’s not working and get bored and just accept that I’m way out of your league—“

You swat at her arm again, hitting the tender spot for a second time. She yelps, rubbing the sore spot as she glares at you.

“Or, if you’re going to be a little shit I’ll just make it worse for you,” she teases, a hand coming to cup the side of your jaw. She leans in close, the tips of your noses barely brushing against each other. “Make your life ten times harder. Babe.”

That gets a slight smile out of you, a snort of a laugh leaving you as you bring your hands up to her own, grabbing it to pry it from your cheek. “Nora—“

A knock on metal—one of the medical carts—makes the two of you jump, Nora snatching her hand away as you step back to put some distance between the two of you. You both look up to see Manny standing in the doorway, looking curiously at the scene in front of him.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” He grins, flicking his eyes between the two of you. “But can I get something to clean up with?” He holds his hands out, Abby’s blood crusted all over his hands and forearms.

Nora turns back to the sink, clearing her throat as she makes to look busy. You flash Manny a tight smile, turning back as well to grab a new towel for him. You run it under the forever cold tap, wringing most of the excess out before walking it over to him.

“Here,” You hand it over, Manny thanking you as he takes it. You peek past him and into the room, eyes landing on Abby laying in the cot. Her eyes are closed but she’s conscious, lips moving as she mutters under her breath. “Is she okay?”

His eyes soften, thinking to the woman in the other room. “Wants to go home, but she’s fine. It’ll be a struggle keeping her down for the next few days.”

You nod solemnly, both commiserating with Manny but understanding how Abby feels. “You guys have anywhere to be?”

“Nah, only training, but you know her.” He scrubs at the backs of his hands, clenching his fingers to get it out of the creases in his knuckles. “She’ll go crazy if she doesn’t move around, and missing training means the end of the world. Again.”

You smile, taking the cloth from him once he’s done. “I’m sure you’ll knock some sense into her.”

“Yeah right,” he snickers, “If she doesn’t knock me out first.”

“Well, you know where to go if she does.” You chuckle.

Manny winks, looking behind you to Nora and back to you. “Hopefully the doctors won’t be too occupied when I come back all busted up.”

You flush, cheeks reddening from embarrassment at the misunderstanding. You need to nip this in the bud before this gets back to Nora.

“Manny, it’s not—“

He holds a hand out, blood still crusting under his nails and the creases of his palm. “Your secret is safe with me, doc.” He grins, bringing it up to cover his eyes, “I didn’t see anything.”

“No, but seriously it’s not… We weren’t—”

“Hey, easy,” he laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re just making it look worse.” He turns back to the main room, cutting anything you go to say off as he leaves you standing in the doorway with the crusty, bloody cloth.

Abby opens one of her eyes when he approaches, scowling at his good nature. Her eyes meet yours for just a second and they soften, before Manny distracts her again by picking up a freshly refilled canteen that he snagged from another medic. They go right back into swearing at each other, and you can’t help but smile just a little despite your anxiety.

Maybe he won’t say anything. Maybe things will be okay.

«« previous ꩜ next »»

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ao3 #reader insert #peachglazewrites

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villainsimpqueen · 1 month ago

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Impimacy things- Late night fear.

Adam X Imp!Reader

Sometimes Adam watches you sleep.

His eyes moving from your cuddled fram as you nuzzled into his chest and arms. On of his hands playing with the strands of your hair or sometimes barley tracing your horns.

His eyes taking in every feature that made up from you, his eyes growing heavy but sleep was not welcomed at all as his wing curled sheilding you away frol harm.

Hes been having dreams, Dreams thats been causing him to wake up gasping, and in a panic to make sure you were safely in his arms.

You always were, thank god.

Adam looked over you, taking in your peaceful sleeping state, a smile forming softly on his face as he moved a hand away from you and over his own face, moving up to drag back his sweaty hair a noise leaving him softly.

It always starts off being surround by noise, chaos.

Hes always busy with some one who is really pissing him the fuck off.

He hears loud noises and then a stuttering gasp of his name.

"A-Adam."

When he turns you are on the ground, a pool of black surrounding you as everything seems to slow.

He grabs you screaming, his holy light can not be used on ones borned of the damn, not mater how hard he tries.

Everything is so loud.

Then its simply quiet.

A choose has to be made. Its one that shreds him apart as he sobs

"Why"

to his father, why this choice.?!

"A soul for a soul."

Then he jerks awake clutching his chest heaving, the noise ringing in his ears everything was so loud and startling, moving to look for you only to feel as if head phones were placed in and a soft calm filling him as he moved to hold you so close.

Everything is okay now, You were here infront of him.

In his arms, near his racing heart that pounded against his ribs.

Where your meant to be.

A shaky sigh leaves Adam as he burries his face into your soft hair careful of your small horns. Cursimg his cruel mind for making him feel so unsure to fall asleep once more, believing if he did and woke up you would be gone. Taken away from him and leaving him so alone and empty once again.

He only oulled you tightly against him, his breathing starting to slow as the comfort of the heat rolling off of your inferno skin was drawing him back into a peaceful sleep.

Adam would hate to admit it outloud to anyone. But as his golden eyes started to grow heavy and his racing heart starts to beat slow, he knew why the dream had always sent him into a panic.

His now greatest fear in the world,

Would be losing you.

#Hazbin Hotel #Adam Hazbin #Hazbin Hotel Adam #Hazbin Adam x Imp!Reader #Adam x Imp!reader #hellborn reader #hellborn #demon reader #Nightmares

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queen-of-reptiles · 2 years ago

Text

𝙷𝙰𝙼𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴

description: In which dagný's girlfriend surprises her with a sudden move and wonders how she didn't pick up on all the hints previously

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dagný brynjarsdóttir x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously, i am in no way saying Dagny is bi-sexual!

warnings: language, bad google translation, cuteness and so much fluff - so much

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y/n just posted

liked by, dagnybrynjars, alexandraj18, and 198, 390 others

y/n blár hefur alltaf verið minn litur, hver vissi að tárin væri það líka?

blue has always been my colour, who knew claret was too?

view 6283 comments

username1: JESUSSSSSSS 😍😍😍😍😍

username2: HOW????? 🔥🔥

username3: I feel like she is too hot to be a footballer?!?!?!!! 😱

username4: UGGHHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥

dagnybrynjars: Ég er heppin kona 😍😍

i'm a lucky woman

y/n: Ég er heppnari elskan 😘

I am luckier baby

clarewheeler: OMG!

y/n: hehe my new fav dress!

karen_holmgaard: I don't blame you! Beautiful!

y/n: xoxo

alexandraj18: móðir! 🔥🥺

mother!

y/n: barnið mitt! 😊

child of mine!

dagnybrynjars: okkar!

of ours

y/n: okkar, afsakið elskan 😚😚

of ours, apologies baby

username5: omg this is so cute! ☺️

username6: what did they say???

username5: Alex called y/n mother and y/n called her 'child of mine' and dagny corrected her saying 'of ours' and y/n responded with 'of ours of sorry baby!'

username6: omg they are the cutest!!!!

username7: AWWWWWWWW 🥹🥹🥹

see more comments...

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y/n just posted on their story

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dagnybrynjars just posted on her story

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y/n just posted on their close friends story

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y/n just posted

liked by, mackenziearnold, dagnybrynjars and 203, 822 others

y/n hammer time!

(Vil taka það fram að ég á mjög erfitt með að vera DIY kærasta.)

(Would like to point out I am very much struggling being a DIY girlfriend.)

view 6088 comments

username1: I love her so much 🥺🥺

username2: I am loving all of her west ham puns atm!! 😂

username3: RIGHT?! but they are making me wonder...

username4: omg do you think?? 😶😶

username5: HAHAHAHA

dagnybrynjars: þú gerðir frábært starf elskan! ❤️

you did a wonderful job baby!

y/n: Ég grét þrisvar og fékk mér tveggja tíma lúr - bölvaðu aukaæfingunni þinni! Elska þig tho! ❤️

I cried three times and had a two hour nap - curse your extra training session! love you tho!

mackenziearnold: DIY SOS - proud of you!

y/n: awwww thanks Mac! ☺️

hawacissoko23: Go on y/n!! Stick it to the mrs! 👏

y/n: no ring no Mrs ! 🤷‍♀️

kirstysmith.11: @dagnybrynjars

dagnybrynjars: not mrs yet... 😏

username6: 😱😱😱

username7: omg omg OMGOMG

see more comments...

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Dagny waited for their new arrivals with the rest of the girls, some of them were passing a ball between them while Dagny watched her phone, confused her girlfriend hadn't texted her.

A vibration makes the skipper look down and Dagny sighs when she sees it is just a new post from West Ham women, welcoming their new signing.

Flicking her phone open, Dagny lets out a call of shock at her girlfriend's face staring back at her, Mackenzie laughs, having known about the transfer and spins her skipper to face her girlfriend.

y/n was lent against the tunnel entrance, the new signings of Riko already talking to others with her translator. y/n looked fantastic in the hammer's shirt and Dagny could feel the breath leave her.

How hadn't she known, how hadn't she'd guessed? All the hints obvious now, her Hammer puns, her change in colour for her wardrobe.

"Ertu búin að ná þér, ástin mín?" y/n asked her girlfriend with a chuckle.

caught up have you, my love?

"Ég er þvílíkur hálfviti." Dagny gasps.

I am such an idiot

"Hálfvitinn minn." y/n hums making Dagny smile softly.

my idiot

The skipper sighs at her girlfriend and moves forward the two meeting in a soft kiss, still aware they were in public. The sound of gagging echoes.

The two pull away and turn to the team who are all mock gagging and y/n rolls her eyes before Mackenzie grins widely and runs at her happily.

"Macca!" y/n laughs as the woman scoops her up tightly and spins.

"Skipper's mrs!" Mackenzie yells and there is an echo of laughter.

"No ring no mrs!" y/n yells back as she is finally placed back on her feet the rest of the team coming to greet her.

Dagny only smiles softly at her lover before the group are called away ready for training.

"You're here." Dagny hums as she takes her girlfriend's hand softly.

"I'm here." y/n reassures as they join the group.

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y/n just posted

liked by hawacissoko23, mackenziearnold and 218, 276 others

tagged dagnybrynjars

y/n think she finally caught on...

view 12, 281 comments

username1: COME ON YOU IRONS ⚒️⚒️⚒️

username2: so excited to have her omggggg!!!

username3: allll the puns make sense now! 😂

username4: how did we not see the hints???? 🤨

dagnybrynjars: Took me a while, but I'm there!

y/n: xoxo

mackenziearnold: I KNEW ABOUT IT HA 😁😁

kirstysmith.11: So did I kenzie, you're not special

mackenziearnold: :(

username5: AGHHHHHHHH ❤️❤️❤️

username6: she does look good in claret tbf

username7: HOT! 😛

see more comments...

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dagnybrynjars just posted

liked by y/n, alexandraj18 and 289, 182 others

tagged y/n

dagnybrynjars she does look good in claret

view 10, 222 comments

username1: 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username2: Yes she does...

mackenziearnold: you two are so cute it makes me feel sick!

kirstysmith.11: icky

y/n: you want me to hand out receipts ??? 🤨

mackenziearnold: omg you guys are so cute! 😅

kirtsysmith.11: I agree so cuteeee! 😊

y/n: that's what I thought 😏

username3: hahahahahahahahah 😂😂

westhamwomen: Happy to have you y/n!!

y/n: ❤️

dagnybrynjars: happy to have her too honestly!

username4: I love her so much omg!! 🥺

username5: I miss her already (everton fan here!) 😭

username6: I know she was so lovely and so good! We are going to go down without her! 😭

username7: she's a snake for leaving Everton honestly 🖕🖕

username8: why???? because she wanted to be with her girlfriend of 8 years? because she was offered a massive contract with West Ham for great money and better exposure?? She gave six years to Everton, she is allowed to move! 🙄

username9: 👏👏👏

username10: loving the fact this is black and white lmao 🤣

see more comments...

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END

love this woman

AND LOVE THIS FCKING TEAM xoxox

Queenie xx

#social media woso #woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #woso soccer #woso community #west ham women #everton women #dagny brynjarsdottir #dagny brynjarsdottir x y/n #dagny brynjarsdottir x reader #dagny brynjarsdottir imagine #mackenzie arnold #kirsty smith #hawa cissoko

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helplesslyblue77 · 2 years ago

Text

Snow White Lily

first story in the ‘fairy tales with a twist’ series i’ve started(because i like creating more work for myself...)

Pairing: Step Dad!Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 12.6k(it got out of hand...)

Warnings: Smut, like not in full but its still there. bad parental figures, slight mommy issues, reader has some self esteem issues, also...this story has so much crying, like seriosly.

Summary: “Years ago, your father had died and your mother had remarried. You never liked your step father, simply because he was not your real father, and you made no secret of your dislike. Many years later, your mother died and your step father became the temporary reigning monarch. You vowed the feelings you were feeling were anger, but when you fall prey to a mysterious curse you realize maybe those feelings weren't hatred after all…”

Notes: soooooo...sorry this took so long. i was originally planing to post it on the 22nd but my computer died and like a fucking moron i forgot the charger...so yeah, so sorry about that. also Reader is more than legal. i ignored the traditional marriage laws of ‘yee olden days’ in favor of not being icky. her and Chan have a age gap of about seven or eight years or so.(side note but saw the barbie movie and fucking loved it, ‘im just ken’ has been stuck in my head for days now...)

♔♕♔

Let me tell you a story dear reader. A story of love, of loss, and all that is forbidden. Let me tell you of a beautiful princess who befell a dreadful curse. Let me tell you the story of Snow White. Now you may be thinking to yourself, dear reader, “But that is ever so common. How dreadfully boring.” I beg you not to jump to such conclusions, for everything you think you know about this lovely tale is, in fact false, and the real story will only be revealed today. So I urge you to sit back and listen to my voice as I weave you a fantastical story.

Once upon a time in a kingdom far far away lived a young woman of only sixteen. She was as beautiful, as she was kind, a true princess in her own right. Her loving father, the benevolent king of the land, doted on her. Her mother, a woman of extraordinary beauty but unpleasant disposition, could not touch her as long as the king treasured her. And thus the princess was raised with love from her father and cold indifference from her mother. Each day she became more beautiful.

Her hair grew long and luscious, her eyes bright with knowledge, and her body grew curves as she matured. As she grew, her thirst for knowledge also grew. Much to the queen's disapproval the king allowed her to take up such thoroughly un-princess-like activities as horseback riding. The queen disproved, but to her satisfaction, the princess also enjoyed activities like embroidery and fashion, so the queen let her wild activities continue. But alas, as our princess turned upon her seventeenth year, her father the king fell deathly ill. Our heroine could only stand by and weep as her beloved father took his last breaths, as the spirits accepted him gracefully into the world of the dead.

Ragged sobs tore through your throat. Your father's hand lay on your own, still warm even though life had drained from his body only moments before. The soft silk of the king's grand bed accepted your tears wholeheartedly, soothing your wet cheeks and stinging eyes. The bed held so many memories for you. Memories of you curled up against your father's warm body as he told you story after story, all in an effort to lure you into a deep and peaceful sleep. Memories of crying in his arms as he stroked your hair and comforted you with sweet reassurances. The realization sank in that he would never embrace or gaze upon you again.

It took a long time for your tears to stop. The palace staff let you stay at the bed, even as your father's cold dead body was removed from the silken sheets, and life in the palace resumed. Only when the golden hour sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, painting the red silk sheets and the golden bed frame dazzling colors, did you lift your tearstained face from the bed and drag yourself to your feet. You stumbled out of the king's chambers, your bare feet making barely a sound as you walked listlessly down the large corridor with the heavy stares of your ancestors weighing on your back. Your hair hung unstyled around your shoulders, your cheeks were smeared with tears and your eyes red and puffy. You were clothed only in a thin nightgown and normally you would have been scandalized. It was highly improper for a princess to wander about in her underclothes, but you were so wrought with grief you could not even bring yourself to feel shame.

Your maids were waiting for you as you dragged open the heavy doors to your chambers. You felt their pitying stares on you but for once they didn't say a word about your disheveled state, only drawing you a bath and slipping away as silent as ghosts.

With heavy hands, you rid yourself of your only garment and slipped into the water. The pink rose petals danced across the ripples your body made as you submerged yourself completely. You closed your eyes and felt the heavy hand of despair settle over you. Tear after silent tear slipped down your cheeks, dripping into the water below. Maybe, if you continued to cry like this the gods would take pity on your sorry state and let you simply slip away, let go of this painful life and join your father in the afterlife. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a princess, but you had never been a perfect princess anyway. Too unattractive, too outspoken, nothing like your composed mother, the epitome of a perfect queen. As beautiful as a statue carved in ice and as cold as one as well.

You knew these thoughts, these ugly self-deprecating thoughts, were not true. But with your father's passing all your insecurities were rearing their ugly heads quite akin to a many-headed monster, dead set on devouring you and only you. You closed your eyes and ever so slowly let yourself sink down until your chin was barely brushing the water. You let the comfort of the water envelope you like the warmth your father had given you, the warmth your mother would never give you. And with one last tear, you rose from the bath, water cascading off your body, and came to a grim realization.

From this day on, you were on your own. And even as the room filled with people, your maids dressing you carefully, even as the mellow chatter filled the room, you had never felt quite so alone.

The next day your maids prepared you for the funeral. As they slipped the black dress over your head, pulled your hair into a modest bun and painted your face just enough to be suitable for such an occasion you desperately held back your tears. It was no such time for your sadness, you are a princess and to reassure your people you must look only appropriately distraught. There would be no breakdowns, no hysterical crying and screaming, none of the sort. As the maids slipped your black veil over your head and handed you the black lace fan, you take a deep breath, and shove your feelings into a deep well, one covered in moss and ivy, simply for another day.

A sea of black greets you as you exit the castle, the air filled with the cries of thousands. The day is gray as if even mother nature is distraught. Gaunt faces torn with sadness, the silent tears of men and women, the loud cries of children who are too young to understand but sense the forlorn atmosphere and respond. You take your place on the open carriage, your father's casket laying only a few feet away from you. The casket is grand, black with gold embellishments, but you can't bring yourself to look at it. It makes it all too real. Your mother steps into the carriage, her beautiful face pulled into its usual frozen expression. Her cold gaze drags over you, and you ignore her as she tuts disapprovingly but says no more. Even she can hold her tongue when she needs to.

The carriage starts its long trek to the royal cemetery, and you feel every rock as it bumps slowly across the road. You watch faces flash by, each hollow with a sadness you feel in your core. The ride to the cemetery is excruciating, as the sky starts to rain, big droplets that splash against the casket, and down your face. You're thankful, as it masks your tears.

The ceremony is grim, and mostly a blur. You watch as a little girl comes forward, and with small hands gently places a single white lily on the casket. More children follow, and soon the dark top of the casket was blanketed in white. Your tears are falling more frequently now, your hat and veil long gone. But these tears, instead of being pure despair, are also interspersed with gratitude. Gratitude for your kind maids, who treated you with such gentle warmth, gratitude for the looks of kindness and understanding you received from your subjects. As you finally leave the cemetery you turn back, laying eyes one final time on the grim black coffin covered in pure white lilies. Your father's favorite flowers were lilies.

The following weeks are a blur. The world seems to continue even as you morn, and you do your best to continue along with it. Your deep loneliness is pushed to the back of your mind and you soon begin to forget it. Months pass, and soon, your eighteenth birthday approaches. You find yourself engaged to a truly dreadful man, but per your mother's request, you are unable to do a thing about it. And then one day, your life changes forever.

The royal dining room is large, with high arching ceilings letting a draft permeate through the space. A huge crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room, filling the large space with shadowy candlelight. Of all of the many rooms in the palace, this one has become one of your least favorites.

The large marble table is laden with food, untouched at the moment and the servants bustle around, serving wine and tidying various lighting fixtures around the room. Your mother, the star of the show, is late. You bristle, as she can't even show courtesy as the host of this sham of a party. Your mother has never been your favorite person, and as long as you have known her, those cold eyes, so dead of feeling, have always scared you.

The large doors slammed open and in waltzed your mother, her head held high. Your eyes narrow as you take in the full picture, the man escorting her to her place. He looks young, maybe eight or nine years your senior, and very handsome. With dark black hair and broad shoulders, he supported your mother as she walked across the room, pulling out the chair for her like a gentleman. Twinkling brown eyes and a sweet smile. Just your mother's type. Anger sang in your veins. How dare she bring in a cheap boy toy so soon after your father's passing. The man tried to send you a smile, but you turned, ignoring him. Your mother’s cold voice echoed in the grand hall.

“Darling, please welcome your new father.”

She didn't ask for your opinion, she simply barged ahead as she always did, as if you didn't matter. It angered you beyond belief, but it also made you feel so insignificant like you were nothing and if you simply went to sleep and never woke up, the world would continue around you, not even stopping to mourn. The room was dead silent as it awaited your response, eyes bearing down upon you. Your mother's cold expectant ones, the knowing eyes of the servants, the eyes of this new man. Emotions roiled in your gut and you stood suddenly, rattling the crockery on the table. You could tell your face was a mess, and you felt the tears start to slip down your cheeks as you ran from the room.

You heard voices fade away as you slammed the door behind you. The worried voice of the young man and your mother's cold reply.

“Is she feeling quite well? Was it something I did?”

“Don't mind her foolishness, she is simply a child.”

You fled down the hall, your skirts a whirl around your legs as you ran from the suffocating room. You were not a child, and most definitely not foolish, you seethed to yourself as you yanked open the doors to your chambers.

But as you entered your room, all the explosive anger drained out of you, leaving only cold acceptance and resentment. It was childish, you mused as your stomach growled in hunger. You crashed face-first on your bed, your hair falling from its updo and pooling messily around your shoulders.

Your mind was a mess, greatly resembling a dark and stormy ocean, a rocky shore tossed by tumultuous waves. Emotions raced through you, too fast to truly catalog. Angry thoughts of your mother's disrespect for your father's name. How could she bring this young handsome boy toy to the castle, so soon after your father's death? And to introduce him as your father? You vowed to never accept this man, to snub him at every turn and refuse to acknowledge him as your father.

(Somewhere, deep in your subconscious, you felt the vile monster of jealousy rear its head and stomp its many feet threateningly. You were jealous, jealous of your mother's goddess-like beauty, jealous of her power, and most of all, you wished the unnamed man could have been yours instead.)

♔♕♔

On that fateful day, the day your mother got remarried, you were notably absent. Your maids had searched and searched your usual hiding spots, but you were nowhere to be found. You were, in fact, in a very unprincesslike position, thrown over two bales of hay, your body bared to the heavy air of the stable. You lost your innocence to the handsome stable boy as wedding bells filled the air. And as you felt ecstasy, gripping the stable boy's broad shoulders, you couldn't really say you were sorry. At the moment at least. The lasting consequences were a bit of an inconvenience. The absence of such a notable figure, the daughter of the bride at that, sent scandalized whispers spreading around the castle.

“The Princess did not show her face at her mother's wedding.”

“She must not accept this new man.”

The rumors didn't bother you but what did bother you was your mother's response or rather lack thereof. There was only a slight tick in her perfectly arched eyebrows as she looked down at you, picking at her long scarlet nails. You met her gaze head-on, never one to show fear to a predator. She looked over at you, taking note of your disheveled appearance, the bits of hay tangled in your long hair, the red marks scattered across your neck, and shook her head.

She tutted disapprovingly. “Darling, if you must partake in those kinds of…” She paused, raising a perfect eyebrow delicately, “Activities…try to restrain yourself when you have official duties.”

You felt like stomping the ground, no matter how childish it was. Your mother always made you feel like this. Like a small, insignificant child, wandering about the world in dumb confusion, and not a fully grown adult woman. You opened your mouth to protest, but your mother waved a hand, dismissing you. You turned, your shoes pattering on the marble floor. You had just reached the door when she spoke last time.

“And for god’s sake, clean yourself up.”

You slammed the door behind you and made the long trek back down the twisting halls and into your chambers.

All through the short and unpleasant meeting you had avoided meeting the eyes of your new ‘father’, but if you had dared to look, you would have noticed the pangs of hurt and disappointment flashing through his dark eyes.

♔♕♔

Over the next few months, you did your best to avoid your new ‘father’. And soon, he gave up his little attempts to get to know you and treated you with the exhaustion of a man who accepted the fact that he was not wanted. Infuriatingly, he was never disrespectful of you, never treated you with contempt, and oh, how it angered you. It was hard to justify your hate when he was such a nice person. And so, a year passed, and then, only a few months before your nineteenth birthday, your mother died.

It was a carriage accident. She was on the way to a friend's house when the carriage was struck by lightning and thrown, burning, off the side of a cliff. It was a fitting end for your mother, fiery and dramatic.

It was sudden, and in your opinion a much-needed breath of fresh air. Maybe you were a truly vile person for thinking this, but your mother had never truly loved you, and you most definitely had returned that hatred. But she was your mother, so even though you loathed it, you couldn't stop the few tears that fell at the funeral.

Later that night, you go through your mother’s belongings and find a stack of leather journals, her personal diaries. Unsure of whether you want to know what these bound confessionals hold you let them sit untouched for a few hours. Finally, overcome with curiosity you open the volume marked with the earliest date and begin to read. As you read her diaries you let yourself cry in earnest. Your mother was a pitiful person, obsessed with beauty to a fault, and it in the end had doomed her, doomed her to a life of marriage to a man she didn't love, not allowed to love who she truly loved. Thinking back to the funeral you did notice the familiar and yet strange woman mourning your mother from the background. A friend your mother had called on at indecent times of the night. The pieces were beginning to fit together. You wanted to hate her, you really did, but as you read of her heartache, you felt yourself sympathizing with her. You hated that feeling, so you buried it deep in your heart, and burned the remainder of her diaries. As you watched the smoke billow into the air, you cried, your tears watering the vines choking your throat.

You watched in grim acceptance as Chan, your ‘father’, accepted the position of temporary monarch, at least until you got married. Truthfully, although you glared fiercely at him, you didn't mind. Being a monarch was a responsibility you were not willing and not ready to shoulder, and Chan was a fair, level-headed person. Those exact qualities were something you despised in him. It was hard to hate a man who was so easygoing and intelligent. But you hated him, you were certain of it. Every thought of him was accompanied by a pounding in your heart like the drumbeat of soldiers marching to war. When you laid eyes on him your body would flush with anger, your fists trembling and your breathing choking you with hatred. If this terrifying feeling was not hatred, you could not tell what it was. And you didn't know if you wanted to know.

♔♕♔

For the next several years, you settled into an uneasy peace, interspersed with dramatic fiery fights that left you running away from it all, on your favorite horse, and disappearing for hours on end. You would always ignore Chan’s worried face when you got back, intent on hating him.

You embroidered, chatted with your friends, rode your horse about the pastures, and begrudgingly met with your dreadful fiance. And just like that, four long years had passed and you were nearing your twenty-fourth birthday when Chan summoned you into his study.

You hated his study, hated how cozy he had made it with warm red curtains and dark cherry wood surfaces, hated the faint smell of woodfire, and Chan's deep musky scent that made you heat up with what you were sure was anger. You avoided this room of the castle at all costs, but even you could not ignore a direct summons, so you stood before him, avoiding his eyes.

“Name, please sit.”

He waved his hand and you wanted to refuse, but you valued your comfort over your stubborn nature so you sat across from him on the red satin couch, munching away at a few biscuits and avoiding his eyes. You watch Chan’s hands as he places you a cup of tea in front of you, and pours his own. You take a deep breath, the sweet scent of jasmine, your favorite tea, filling your nostrils. Chan sighed, the breath gusting out from between his plump lips as he spoke.

“I hear you did not attend your usual meeting with your fiance.” You do your best to portray your annoyance with your face as you speak, still not meeting his eyes.

“Lord Brandish is dreadfully boring and dull, I just could not stand to speak with him again.”

Chan sighs a sigh of frustration, one that only you can manage to pull out of his mouth, and sets his teacup down on the wooden surface of the table. He looks at you and you hate the disappointment leaking from his eyes.

“Name, you are nearing your twenty-fourth year already, soon it will be time for you to get married and take over rulership of this kingdom.”

You hate how level-headed and smart he sounds, and how in comparison you sound like a dumb immature child. What makes it worse is the way he handles you, so patient even after you treated him with such disrespect. You slam your tea cup on the table, the hot tea sloshing over your fingers. You hiss at the burn and Chan rushes to your side, his strong hands grasping your own.

“Name are you alright? Does it hurt?”

His hands are big, much bigger than your own, and the comforting warmth envelopes you, spreading from your hands all throughout your body. The warmth scares you, but in a moment of weakness, you let him caress your hands gently, smoothing ointment onto the burns. It takes a moment, but Chan meets your eyes, perhaps wondering why you haven't yanked your hands away and stormed off. You find yourself wondering the same thing and hurriedly yank them away, settling as far away from him as you can. He seems to sink in on himself, returning to his seat and clearing his throat.

“As I was saying, you cannot miss these appointments, they are vital to your future relationship with your fiance…”

He continues on, and you tune him out, your anger slowly building. How dare he, who is he to command you like this? As usual, anger is your first reaction, and you brandish it both as a shield and a sword.

“I refuse to go.”

Chan stops, his eyes meeting your own, and waves his hand around.

“Name, you're being childish. You must continue to go—”

You interrupt, your heart beating in your ears.

“I refuse!”

You hate your fiance, hate his crude remarks, his overall poor attitude, and the way his slimy hands feel up your thighs at every opportunity. Lord Brandish is a truly vile man, but of course, he puts on his mask, playing the part of the perfect gentleman in front of Chan and your servants.

Lord Brandish appeared to them a perfect man, as handsome as he was kind, and they simply could not understand your animosity towards him. And to you, you would never tell. The mere thought made you feel pathetic, running to your ‘father’, admitting you could not solve all your problems on your own. It felt like weakness, and you hated weakness. So you bottled it up and did your best to treat him with absolute contempt, hoping maybe, he would just refuse to marry you. Sadly, that day had not come.

Chan threw his hands up in exasperation, as you continued on. Your voice trembled embarrassingly as you jumped to your feet.

“Who are you, how can you make me go?”

You could see he was finally losing his patience as he stood as well, his hands waving annoyed patterns in the air.

“Name, I don't understand why you can't just listen to me for once!”

You are yelling by now, your usual defense mechanism, anger, spewing out of your painted lips like knives, flying at their target and embedding themselves deep in his chest.

“I can't! I won't!”

Your words are basically nonsense, the emotions you had buried deep in your heart, all those tears you had refused to let fall, years and years of loneliness and resentment crawling their way out of your heart. Akin to ugly black vines, the leaves long withered, and dead, weaving their way up your body, tearing through your internal organs, and exploding out of your mouth in ugly sobs. You bite the sobs back, they were a weakness.

Anger is burning in Chan's eyes. The two of you had indeed had fights before, but for some reason, this particular fight felt different. There was a quality in the air, floating around the two of you like a deadly wind, disturbing everything it touches. You were basically in hysterics by now, hands clutching and tearing at your necklace, and it was no longer about the conversation, no longer about Lord Brandish. This was about something much deeper, something darker, something you weren't ready to talk about yet.

The vines were back, tearing at your throat and teeth, and in a moment of weakness, you let them out. All your resentment tearing out of your mouth in three final words.

“I hate you.”

They were words you had never dared to say, never quite believed, and the moment they left you, the moment you looked up and saw his face, the anger melted out of you and you burst into tears. It was all too much, the pain on his face, the way he stumbled back slightly, the way his hand trembled as he reached for you. The tears were still burning a hot path down your cheeks, staining the collar of your dress dark with water. You felt pathetic and small, and most of all, you knew at that moment that you didn't hate Chan. You thought it would feel good to finally say those words out loud, that it would feel like a relief. Instead, the feeling that ran through you was regret. The vines that had poured out of your mouth were suffocating you, and all you wanted to do was cry and cry until it all went away.

You were still so young, so immature, and you felt so, so regretful. You were drowning in your tears, you were suffocating in your clothes and you just wished it would all go away.

Warm arms enveloped you, pulling you into a hard chest, caressing your hair roughly. You began to cry harder, the words coming out jumbled and croaky.

“Chan, I apologize. I never meant it, I just—”

His deep voice interrupted your choked apologies, his hands rubbing soothing circles in your back.

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

His kindness, his ever-present kindness, just made your tears fall faster, your hands knotting in the back of his shirt.

“You are just so kind, and I was so horrible to you and I apologize—”

He just stroked your back soothingly, murmured nothing into your hair, and let you cry, years' worth of emotions wetting the thin fabric of his undershirt. It felt good to cry, and those horrible dead vines wrapped around your throat slowly loosened, falling gently around your shoulders, and turning a brilliant vibrant green. Leaves sprouted and you cried and cried, until the sun sank below the distant hills, and you found yourself still laying in his arms, embraced on the floor. It had been so long since you had felt a touch of comfort, and you would have compared it to the times your father had held you like this, but for some strange reason, it didn't quite feel like that.

It felt comforting of course, but you also felt strange. Your cheeks flushed pink, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You had always assumed this strange feeling was rage, but maybe…

You hurriedly put a stop to that line of thought. For now, you should do your best to make it up to Chan and enjoy your time with your ‘father’.

♔♕♔

Over the next few weeks, you spent more and more time with Chan. The two of you would eat each meal together, and you found that he was actually very pleasant company. You found he shared your love of horse riding and promptly planned a picnic. The servants cooed over your relationship, most of them just grateful you were both happy, although you had heard strange whispers and giggles from the maids every time you interacted. You asked them, but they had just giggled and ran off. It was strange but you were too happy to dwell on it as you anticipated your picnic.

It was a beautiful day for a picnic, the sun smiling down and the wind tossing your hair around your head gracefully. Your favorite horse, Pearlie whinnied and reared playfully into the air as you stroked her pure white coat.

Pearlie was a beautiful white mare, gifted to you on your fifteenth birthday by your father. You took one look at her pure white coat and promptly named her Pearlie. Your father had dissolved in laughter and patted your head reassuringly.

Pearlie was docile and playful, and you adored her with your entire being. Her long white main blew gently in the wind, the sun bouncing off her gold embroidered saddle and almost blinding you. You patted her reassuringly.

“Just wait a minute more Pearlie, it's almost time.”

A cough sounded behind you and you whip around, your eyes coming to rest on Chan. Your breath caught in your throat. He looks positively radiant, clothed in a thin white shirt and tight black pants, his hand grabbing the reins of a gorgeous black stallion. His brown curls blew gently in the breeze, he smiled at you, his dimples peeking out. You felt your heart heating up and again, your heart beating insistently in your chest, bumping against your ribcage and begging to be let out, if only to jump into his arms. Much like you wanted to do. A flash of gold caught your eyes and you looked down, blushing as naked flesh graced your eyes. The front of his shirt was undone, and a bit of fair peck peaked out at you. A golden pendant hung around his neck, swaying gently as he walked, drawing your eyes towards its golden glow and the swaths of skin available for your eyes to devour. You hurriedly yanked your eyes away and mounted your horse. Chan joined you, pulling his black stallion up next to yours. He smiled and your heart felt like it would simply rip from your chest and leave you cold and dead.

“Ready to depart?”

You managed a nod and urged Pearlie into a trot. You let the wind cool your heated cheeks, let it caress your face and toss your hair, and all too soon, you had arrived at your destination.

The lake was special, a spot you had discovered one day, running from your mother's wrath. The sunlight bounced off the pure blue surface, and the trees around it were such vibrant greens, rivaled only by the bright wildflowers littering the ground. The air was warm, and butterflies scattered as you dropped to the ground, Chan following suit.

He let out a noise of amazement. “This place is extraordinary.”

You smiled, happy that he thought so too. “Isn't it? It's my special place.”

You were busy laying out the blanket and missed the look he sent you, so full of happiness tinged only with a slight flavor of longing.

You plopped down on the blanket, and he joined you, laying out the spread of treats. Small bite-size sandwiches, little cakes and pies, and a large pitcher of iced jasmine tea. It made your mouth water and you delicately picked up a small raspberry pie, taking a bite. Your teeth sank into the flaky pie crust, the slightly tart filling making your taste buds sing in delight. You let out a moan of satisfaction as you finished the treat, reaching for another as Chan laughed.

“You like raspberries?”

You nod, your mouth full, and swallow a delicious bite. “The kitchen really outdid itself.” It is a picturesque afternoon, and in no time at all the large spread of food is long gone and the both of you are laying back, letting the breeze play gently with your clothes and gazing into the pure blue sky. Birdsong fills the air, and you can see butterflies darting around from flower to flower, never stopping for too long. Faintly, you think you can hear bees buzzing in the distance, and sure enough, across the lake, you spot a bees nest, hundreds of bees buzzing around it, little soldiers devoted to their work. The smell of nature fills your nostrils, wispy clouds arching gracefully and the sun blazing a path across the blue, blue sky.

Chan breaks the peaceful silence, clearing his throat before speaking. “I am really glad we could do this.”

You nod, turning your body to face him, your arm squishing uncomfortably below your side. He looks positively radiant beside you, beaming at you, his dimples doing horrible things to your heart. You cough and reply. “I'm sorry, I was stubborn.”

Chan sits up, waving his hand in protest. “No, Name I didn't mean—”

You sit up as well, your hair falling around your shoulders and tickling your bare skin. It all just feels so carefree, you feel a smile carving its way across your face.

“I know, Chan. I know how kind and forgiving you are.” You take a deep breath, stealing yourself to let your emotions show. “I should have noticed earlier. I took my irrational anger out on you and I apologize.”

You're not used to apologizing, and you know your dialogue sounds stiff and formal, but you can't quite think of another way to get it out.

Chan moves to protest, but in a moment of ill-advised boldness, you place a finger gently on his plump lips, bringing his words to a sharp halt.

“Chan. Let me apologize for this at least.”

He nods, and your hand falls reluctantly from his lips, finger hot from the contact. You're left looking at him, your eyes staring deep into his own deep brown ones and falling down, down, down. The world around you disappears, the birdsong fading away to nothing until all you can see is his face, highlighted by the sinking sun, his tousled brown hair, and those disastrous dimples disappearing as his smile fades, his eyes dipping from your own to focus on your lips. You're frozen in time, filled with a longing you finally understand. Those symptoms you for so long assumed were hatred were in fact desire. You long for his touch, for his warmth, and shamefully, for his love. The metaphorical vines curled lovingly around your neck begin to bloom, white lilies falling from their stems and plopping into your lap. The sun suddenly seems to shine just a little brighter, the leaves seem a more vibrant green, and the birdsong returns, louder and more beautiful than ever. You are floating, dancing in your happiness, the relief of realization rendering your body light, and now you're soaring, dancing on the cloud tops, but then, you fall. The guilt pours in, guilt over your love, your love of your mother's husband, a man who probably still devoted himself to her, even in her passing. And you know you could never compare to your mother, her beautiful face still etched in your mind, her cold expression glaring at you from her perch on the wall, her face immortalized in a royal portrait, frame made of solid gold. And you know, that you can never have this man, the man you want and have wanted for longer than you were willing to admit to yourself. And with that, the sun sinks below the hills, and the vibrant colors leak out of your surroundings. You break eye contact, turning away and standing up.

Chan jumps to his feet. “Time to go?”

You nod, forcing a smile, and grip Pearlies reins in your hand. You turn, away from Chan and gaze out over the lake. This spot will be forever intertwined with bittersweet memories, a place where you came to realize your unrequited, very forbidden love. A heavy warm hand lands on your shoulder and you turn, Chan's worried face greeting your own. You find yourself mesmerized by his lips as he speaks.

“Name, are you alright?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically and adorably shy. You took a deep breath and put on a smile. “I'm fine Chan, just a little tired.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, and you did your best not to feel a little self-conscious. But then, he was done and you turned away, mounting Pearlie as he jumped atop his black steed, and you set off back to the castle.

The ride back was silent, the orange glow of the sunset bathing the hills in fire, and the fireflies had come out to play. It was a beautiful scene, but you couldn't bring yourself out of your somber mood and the two of you rode home in tense silence.

♔♕♔

Later that night, as your maids bustled about, lighting the lanterns one by one until the room was bathed in candlelight, you noticed the strange new addition to the room. A large mirror. Your head maid noticed where your eyes were going and helpfully chimed in.

“Was your mother”s, she left it to you.”

You frowned. It didn't look like anything your mother would own. It was old, the glass slightly foggy and no matter how you strained your eyes, you could not make out a reflection. The rim of the mirror was gaudy, gold with inlaid jewels, and for some reason, as you stared at it you got the unpleasant sensation of eyes on you, watching you as you crept closer.

You stretched a shaking hand out, and just as your fingers brushed against the surface, the fog within the mirror began to swirl violently. You jumped, pulling the offending hand back and clutching it to your chest as the fog congealed, coming together until a face was visible. You looked away hurriedly. It wasn't as if the face was ugly, no, you would rather describe it as unnerving. It was a woman, her face what you could only call perfection, and it was a woman who you knew far too well. Your mother's perfect face stared back at you, immortalized inside this strange mirror even as her corpse rotted in the graveyard far from the castle. The maids were gone now, and as you stepped closer to the mirror a breeze came in through your open window, ruffling your silk nightgown and tossing your hair. The woman in the mirror spoke first, but the voice that exited its perfectly painted mouth was not your mother’s, no, it was a strange amalgamation of voices, male and female, blending together in a truly unpleasant way.

“You must be my new master.”

The face in the mirror moved as it spoke, almost as if your mother was here in front of you again, and you hated it. You responded, trying to hastily tidy your unruly hair. You always felt so small next to your mother, so small and unattractive.

“Your master?”

The face in the mirror never changed, no emotion ever crossed its stone-cold face and the longer you stared at it the more dazed you felt, as if a heavy fog was suddenly blanketing your mind. The world seemed to fade away and all you could see was the mirror. The mirror spoke again, its words cutting like ice, pulling your insecurities out of your mind and weaponizing them against you.

“You can be the object of his affection.”

Every emotion was heightened, and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as a sudden and intense desperation enveloped you and you rushed forward, gripping the sides of the mirror.

“Tell me! Tell me this instant!”

Your voice sounded desperate even to your ears but for some reason you didn't care. The mirror’s perfect face curved into a stunning smile, as its ruby lips parted one final time, and a poem fell from them.

You repeat the first line of the poem as you exit the castle, your heels clicking much too loudly on the cobblestone path.

“Enter the woods, under moonlight so bright…” You lift your eyes to the sky and breathe in relief as the moon decides to peek out from behind the clouds, lighting the path in front of you.

You were always told never to enter the woods, and you hear the words echoing in the back of your mind, but the strange fog in your brain quickly blankets it, and you step off the cobblestones and onto the well-worn path into the woods. You reach into your pocket, pulling out a compass as you recite the next few lines in the poem.

“A choice will be yours, surrender tonight, Walk to the north, not south or not west.” The woods are dark, the trees foreboding, their branches reaching desperately toward the moonlight. It's silent, unnervingly silent as you walk off the beaten path, your shoes touching damp grass, padding softly across its surface, and leaving crushed beaten grass in your wake. Not a sound crosses your lips, as you walk on, through the large trunks of huge black trees. You look at the little paper where you hastily scrawled the mirror's words, and read the next line.

“Until in a grove, she grants your request…”

Sure enough, ahead of you, your eyes catch on a break in the trees. The dark trees gave way to green moss and stones, and the moonlight poured into the clearing, illuminating the strange statue in the center. It's made of a peculiar black stone and almost shines by itself. It's big, much taller than you and the edges are rough, like it was hastily carved. It mesmerizes you, as you stare deep into the black interior you suddenly feel the urge to touch it. You move your hand, almost in a trance, and brush the rough surface. The surface is smooth, and ice cold, and as your fingers leave its surface it begins to melt away slowly, black goo melting off its surface and sizzling into the ground. The goo swirls, and the ground below it seems to melt away until a shining glass statue is revealed. The statue is large, almost your height, and of a woman. Her face is covered with a strange mask, round and smooth and without any features at all, her hair cascades down her shoulders, reaching all the way to the ground. She is clothed in a skin-tight gown, with a revealing slit up the side. Her feet are bare upon the grass. In her hand, she holds a single object, a shining golden apple. The paper in your hand flutters to the ground, long forgotten as you stare wide-eyed at the apple. Its shimmering surface mesmerizes you and you find yourself reaching out, and gripping its smooth surface in your hand.

It's cold, and as you bring it to your lips, you have the vaguest feeling of foreboding. In the back of your disordered mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Chan, screaming at you to stop, to put the apple back and turn, leaving the woods for good. But the mirror's promise echoes in your mind and you open your mouth, taking a single bite of the apple. The skin is thin, the flesh just the right amount of sweet and tart. The apple is delicious, and as you chew it, you suddenly hunger desperately for more. Your gaze zeros in on the apple and you bring it to your lips again, but just like that, it slips from your hand. You look around in confusion, only for your vision to start to fade around the edges, your hands are suddenly limp and as your consciousness fades, you have one clear realization.

“I should have never listened to that mirror.”

The last sensation you feel is the soft grass beneath your legs, as you fall gently to the ground, and slip into a dark, dreamless sleep.

♔♕♔

Something was wrong. Chan could feel it, even as the clock ticked on endlessly, as the words scrawled on documents began to blur over, as you waltzed through his mind, your smile consuming his every thought. It was unhealthy, and so, so wrong. This woman, this young, beautiful, and when he had enjoyed the chance to know you, kind woman was someone he could never even touch. This woman who he lived too close to, was a woman forever out of his desperate hands, a woman he could never have, never kiss. The thought killed him. And that was why Chan took the long journey to your room, down the dark empty halls, past the portraits that judged his every move, and knocked quietly on your door. It was late, he knew that. Much too late for him to be visiting you, and Chan felt his face heating up as he realized how improper it looked. Him, a young man, visiting a young woman in the dead of night. But, he reassured himself as he stood in front of your door, his first thoughts had been innocent, a desire to talk to you, to laugh with you, even if his later thoughts had turned less proper.

The silence worried him, and he knocked again, harder. The door cracked open, light pouring into the dark hallway and Chan frowned. You were up? At this hour? He realized how hypocritical that sounded, here he was, awake and trying to visit you, but in his defense, he hadn't been thinking of anything besides your smile. The smile he had glimpsed this afternoon, shining like the sun after rainfall. Chan had thought he might die. You looked radiant among the flowers, a forest fairy masquerading as a human, a being so perfect and radiant he might die if he dared to lay a hand on her skin. He truly wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. Your smile was like the sun peeking its way from behind the clouds after a storm, the storm of your hatred. Chan never wanted to be on the receiving end of your hatred ever again.

He pushed the door cautiously, and peaked around it, taking in the fully lit candles and the strange mirror standing in the corner of the room. He stepped inside, taking the opportunity to look around your room, usually a forbidden place for him. Your room was large, with high sloping ceilings giving it a breezy feel. Your window was open, curtains flapping in the wind, and the moonlight poured into the room, illuminating the white sheets on your bed.

Your perfectly made bed. Your dreadfully empty bed.

Chan ran to the window, his heart pounding in his chest. What was going on, where had you gone at this late hour? He feared the worst, even as he leaned out the window, and spotted the imprints in the grass. Footsteps. His body froze, ice water coating his insides and dread in his thoughts. Where could you be going at such a late hour. He prayed you had not headed into the woods. The woods were home to many things, some good, some terrifying, and the thoughts of what could happen to you turned his mind to stone. You were the woman he loved above all else, he could not let you die. Chan knew it was illogical. He should have waited until morning, gathered an armed search team, and departed into the woods, but he could not help the way he ran down the stairs, and flung open the castle doors, running barefoot into the woods.

Alas, his searching was for nothing, because as he stumbled back in the morning, sleep deprived and emotional, he still had not found you.

♔♕♔

And thus, six uneasy days passed. Chan pulled together a search team. He insisted on coming along, even if the head butler protested, and the team of strong volunteers turned the woods upside down in search of you. Night after sleepless night passed, and the dark circles under Chan’s eyes grew and grew. The servants whispered, their concern for their employers spread to the townsfolk and finally on the morning of the seventh day, they received a tip from a huntsman. A tip that told of a woman, asleep in a glass coffin, deep in the woods.

Armed with this information, they stumbled through the woods, exhausted men led by their relentless king, a man driven by a love he didn't even realize. And as the sun set on the seventh day, Chan found you.

The clearing was bathed in the rays of the dying sun, the light illuminating the intricate glass coffin taking up the center of the clearing. And laid in that coffin, still as death was you, still clothed in your white nightgown, hands crossed gently over your chest, holding a perfectly preserved golden apple. Chan feared the worst, stumbling to the coffin with a cry and throwing it open. His hands desperately felt for a pulse. Fear poured over his heart, as he felt nothing…

…a pulse, faint but definitely there. Chan collapsed to his knees, his head falling against the edge of the coffin, his hands desperately clutching the glass sides, and cried.

And that's how the rest of the search team found him, crouched against the glass coffin, tears streaming down his cheeks, knees grass-stained and dirty, looking nothing like the king he was, only a man brought to the ground with relief.

They moved you to the castle, careful not to disturb you, and laid you to rest in your bed. Only then did Chan allow himself to sleep, although his dreams were nightmares, plagued with you, encased in glass, dead to this world. He awoke the next morning and rushed to you, certain you were awake but when he arrived in your room, took in your form, now changed into a white silk nightgown, still fast asleep. The maids shook their heads, and he rushed to your side, desperately calling your name. He tried and tried, but you remained as silent as death, faint pulse the only evidence that you were even alive, and he finally collapsed, sinking into a chair the maids had provided and taking your cold hand in his own. He took you in, your hair, now washed courtesy of the maids, fanning around your head, your eyes closed, lashes kissing your cheeks, your pretty mouth, open slightly as you breathe. Your skin was cold to the touch, and you made barely a sound in the room, cold and silent as death.

Cold and silent as your mother had been.

Chan was never in love with your mother, and in turn, she had never loved him. It had been like a contract for her, to hide her secret lover from the public. She said lover, but Chan was not sure your mother could truly love anymore if the way she treated you was any indication.

Chan still remembered the day the queen had shown up to his small house, in all her royal glory, and asked him to marry her. He had agreed, if only to support his siblings, and moved into the castle. He remembered the day he had met you, a woman so beautiful and full of life, so bright as she glared at him, so angry as she ignored him, such an opposite of the woman he married. He had admired you since the day he met you, your glowing beauty seemed to light up the room, your smile like the sun after a rainy day. Even your anger was vibrant, so much better than your mother's cold treatment of all living things. But soon he hungered for more. He longed to be on the receiving end of your smiles, to no longer be subject to your hatred. And then, one day, his wish had come true. After years and years of receiving your glares, one of your brilliant smiles had been reserved specifically for him. Not for the stable boy you favored, not for the new butler who the maids gossiped about, not even for your gossipy friends who smirked in his direction, no, this smile was reserved simply for him. It was karma, he decided, that the night after he received such a privilege, you disappeared for seven days, and then refused to wake up.

Chan brought your ice-cold hand to his lips and pressed one gentle kiss upon your soft skin. Tears fell silently down his cheeks and dropped onto your hand. Chan prayed your fingers would twitch, that your eyes would flutter, and then open slowly, that your skin would warm and the color would return to your cheeks, but alas, no such thing happened. Your eyes remained closed, your skin remained cold, and the only thing he felt was a tap on his shoulder. The doctor had arrived.

♔♕♔

The only sound in the room was the flip of paper, the rustling of pages turning. Chan glanced up from his book, hoping that your eyes would open, but alas you remained as still as ever. The doctor had come and gone, unable to do a thing, and the maids, having grown tired of his constant staring, had provided him with some books to occupy his mind, at least until the next doctor came to visit. Much to his chagrin, he had found himself being sucked into the world of the characters. He found himself sympathizing more and more with the main character, a man who was in love with a woman he could not have. He turned the pages eagerly, absorbed every word, and found the world melting away. He understood John, the main character in the novel, as he pinned over Elain, the young woman he loved and soon the characters were no longer John and Elaine, but they became Chan and you, and he imagined every interaction as you and him. It helped him escape, helped him hold hope that one day you would wake up and interact with him again.

The book had a happy ending. John and Elaine got married and moved into John's large house together. Chan felt satisfied as he put down the book, leaning back in his chair. He could picture your wedding. You would look stunning in white, just as you looked now. And he would watch you walk down the aisle, smiling from ear to ear. Your vows would be exchanged, and you would retreat to the wedding bedroom. Chan felt his cheeks heat up, but he continued with his fantasy even as he glanced around nervously. There you lay, asleep and peaceful on the bed. He could not dare to do such a thing in front of your sleeping form, so he stood up and turned the chair around. It was much better to face a wall and do such a thing as touch himself thinking of you, right in front of your sleeping face. He still felt like a degenerate as he imagined the scene.

You would tease him, you liked to tease. He could imagine it now, your first layer of skirts falling gently to the floor, leaving you only in your thin underlayer. He could see your nipples, perky and rubbing against the fabric.

Chan gulped, palming himself slightly over his pants. It was embarrassing how quickly he rose to hardness, over a simple fantasy.

You would let the last layer fall, and sit on the bed, your perfect body on display for his greedy eyes. He watched as you smirked, spreading your legs and bearing your core for his eyes. Chan gulps as you beckon him forward, falling to his knees before your core.

The Chan in reality refuses to actually pull himself out of his pants, electing instead to press harder, his palm doing its best in the circumstances as he falls back into his fantasy.

You grip his hair, smirking down at him, and with enough force to startle, shove his face into your—

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting his dirty fantasies and Chan hurriedly does his best to hide his hardness, pulling himself as the maids lead the next doctor in. If they notice his disheveled appearance and how the chair is now facing the wall, they don't say a thing.

♔♕♔

For the next few days, the castle was abuzz with worry. The news spread fast, and soon villagers were lining up with gifts. Everything from jewelry to a bouquet of wildflowers given to him by a small girl, who sobbed and asked if the princess would wake up. Chan did his best to reassure her, even if on the inside he felt like crying.

He summoned every doctor he could, but none of them seemed to have an answer. You seemed to be stuck in time. You didn't need to eat, or drink, and you didn't change one bit, from the moment they found you laying inside that glass coffin, deep in the woods. Hours turned to days and you didn't wake up. Chan despaired. He posted desperate notices around the kingdom, begging for any information regarding endless sleep. He tried any and every doctor he could, he prayed to any god available, but alas, nothing.

Days turned to weeks, and the word seemed to move on around him, even as you slept, so beautiful but so lifeless, and even as Chan despaired. He did his best and ran the kingdom like he was supposed to, but everyone could tell his heart wasn't in it. His eyes looked glazed and distant, and he spent all his free time sitting by your bed, holding your hand. The villagers and nobles cooed at his dedication, calling it the love story of the century, but the servants did their best to keep the rumors from him. A month passed, and Chan feared you would never wake again. He was so close to giving up, when one day, a strange woman entered the palace, and with her dirty robes, she brought his hope.

The woman appeared old, but with witches, you could never be so sure. She smiled at Chan, looking calm and complacent, a sharp difference from Chan’s harried look. She was wearing a long red dress, a woolen cloak covering most of her body. When she first appeared, it had been covered in mud, but between the time she had entered the door and Chan had brought her to your room, the cloak looked brand new.

Chan spoke first. “Do you think you can help her? She won't wake up and I don't know what to do anymore—”

The witch raised a manicured finger, and Chan stopped talking, effectively shushed. The witch spoke, and her voice echoed in your large chambers, years younger than her appearance.

“I'll see what I can do.”

Chan blinked, and when he looked back at her, she had de-aged, looking closer to thirty than ninety. Her blond hair, cut in a sharp bob at her chin, peaked out from her hood as she smiled at him. Witches and their disguises. Her blue eyes lined heavily with black, took in the situation and Chan watched nervously as she walked to the bed where you lay, still as cold and silent as ever before. She looked at you for a second, her eyes scanning your features, frozen in time before her eyes moved to the golden apple, sitting inconspicuously on your small bedside table. Chan frowned as she picked it up, turning it around in her hands, her nails filed to lethal sharp points, and painted a dangerous red. He had never given the apple much thought, too concerned with your state, but as she turned it around he noticed the one, small bite, perfectly preserved, on one side.

Chan can't help himself, he rushes forward.

“Is that what it is? Is she poisoned? Is she never going to…”

He can't bear to say it and lets the sentence trail off. The witch stares at him for a moment, chewing something in her mouth, before she takes pity on his sorry state and sets the apple down, turning to him.

“Yes, cursed apple. But…”

She turns and walks to the strange mirror that had been sitting in the corner of your room. Chan watches in horror as she lifts a pointy heeled shoe, and gracefully kicks the mirror. The surface shatters, the pieces clattering to the ground like rainfall, and Chan opens his mouth to protest but shuts it as he watches.

The pieces have risen in the air, distorting and twisting until they crash to the earth, and with a strange howl, one that sounds a lot like despair and fills his soul with sadness, they vanish. The room seems automatically lighter, like a disturbing presence has been removed from the room, and Chan suddenly felt a bit more optimistic. The witch turned to him with a sigh, tossing the apple in the air. Chan watched it spin, slightly mesmerized.

“Alright, it seems like that vile mirror convinced your lover to depart into the woods and eat this apple.”

Chan frowned, questions spilling from his mouth.

“How did the mirror do that? What kind of mirror was it and why would it do that? Also—”

The witch held up a hand, silencing him as the apple spins in the air again, coming to rest in her manicured hand.

“It's a cursed mirror. A vile human soul, doomed to trick unsuspecting people into death.”

How did such a thing end up in your possession? He can only imagine the horrible thoughts it must have put into your head. Chan’s horror must show on his face because she chuckles a little as she continues.

“It must have played on her insecurities, impersonated a person she feared or respected, and convinced her to go into the woods.”

The witch moved over to the window as she spoke, and drew her arm back, and with all her might, threw the golden apple into the sunlight. It spuns in the air for a moment, before it exploded with a bang, disappearing into thin air. Chan staired. The witch laughed.

“That apple,” She said, dusting her hands of imaginary dirt. “Is a cursed item. It's the usual thing,”

The witch held up two fingers, and pitched her voice, mimicking someone. “Cursed to sleep until she receives true loves kiss,’ it's so cliche but some witches still rely on the old stuff—”

“True love’s kiss?”

The witch looked at him like he was stupid. “Yes, true love's kiss. Should be easy for you.”

She pulled the hood of her cloak up, and Chan watched as wrinkles grew on her fair skin, her hair turned a dark gray, and she aged about fifty years. Her voice was still clear and young when she spoke. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” she waved an old wrinkled hand and smirked at him. “Good luck.”

And with that, she was gone, like she was never even there, leaving Chan to deal with the bombshell of a declaration she dropped on his head.

Chan deliberated long and hard about this dilemma, his brain in conflict with his heart, worry constantly etched across his handsome face. He knew his kiss would work, he loved you more than he thought he had loved anything before. But as much as he longed to press his lips to yours, he was too afraid of the consequences, afraid of what would happen when his kiss worked and you opened your eyes. Afraid of the disdain that would cross your face once you realize your stepfather had inappropriate feelings for you. The thought of your face carved into a mask of disgust made his heart ache desperately in his chest, but he would rather live a life with your hatred than live a life without you entirely.

He sank into the chair beside your bed and turned his eyes on your still form. You were so beautiful, but silent and cold as a statue and Chan longed for anything, your laughter, your screams, even your sobs, anything but this cold shell of a woman laying deathly still on the bed. Your lips, slightly parted in sleep, taunted him. Blushed a pretty pink, curved and sultry and teasing him even now. You were a temptress incarnate, and Chan would do his best to resist your charms until the very end. You were carefree, wild and the exact opposite of your mother, and as a result you had no shortage of admirers. Your fiance, who in Chan's opinion was a jerk, the stable boy, a handsome new butler, a young lord at a ball. And some of them, you favored them back, disappearing off for secret trists that your mother had scoffed at and Chan wished desperately that he was one of those men you snuck off with. He still remembered the fateful time he had accidentally heard you, panted moans and pretty cries painting a forbidden picture. You sounded so beautiful, and Chan had longed desperately that he was the one teasing those sounds out of you, not some upstart young lord. He was ashamed at the way he leaned against the wall, guiltily listening to your symphony of sounds, unable to bring himself to leave until you reached your high, sneaking off to take care of himself. It was a shameful memory, one he blushed at even now, even as he desperately prayed to any god available, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to your own in a chaste kiss. A kiss so full of longing, a forbidden taste of something he could only pine for, a woman constantly out of his reach.

♔♕♔

The world was a sea of black. It stretched forever, all you could see. Your body felt weightless, and you blinked, looking around for something, anything. But there was nothing. You faintly remembered an apple, a mirror, and then the sensation of falling, but your memory after that was blank. You decided to walk forward, looking for anything. Your feet made no sound as you pattered across the nothingness, and after what seemed like only a few minutes, your vision began to waver. You felt a creeping sensation on your back, and a voice you could not hear urged you to run, run away from the thing behind you. You knew subconsciously that if it caught you, you would never wake up. And so you ran.

You flew, your desire to wake propelling your feet, even as your throat begged for water and your legs burned. Somewhere in the distance, you saw light, and in front of that light, a figure. A familiar figure, a figure of a man you loved with all your heart. You ran and ran, and the Chan in the distance held out a hand that you longed to grab. Your feet moved impossibly faster, and you practically flew towards him, even as the sound of slithering behind you grew louder, the creeping sensation sending shivers up your spine. And as you came into the light, as you grabbed his bigger hand in your own, as he pulled you into a warm hug, the world around you faded. The strange dreamscape blurred, and you opened your eyes to the familiar colors of the ceiling, in your private chambers. You blinked, and looked around, your eyes catching on the figure seated beside your bed. Chan looked haggard, his eyes were highlighted by dark circles and his hair was a mess, but the relief in his eyes trumped it all. Your mouth felt dry as you opened it to speak.

“I'm hungry.”

You watched in confusion as tears slipped from Chan's eyes, and he tackled you on the bed, hugging you tight to his chest. You fell back against the bed, your back hitting the silky covers as pounds of muscle crashed onto you, suffocating you in his embrace. You melted into it, albeit a little confused, and stoked his large back as he cried into your nightgown. Your voice cracked as you spoke again.

“What's wrong?”

The door crashed open, and your head maid and bedroom maids crashed into the room. As soon as they lay eyes on you they were running to the bed, tears running down their faces. You were beyond confused but no one bothered to answer your questions. It took a long time for everyone to stop crying, and the maids promptly heard your complaint and brought you a bowl of warm soup and bread. Chan, still sniffling, sat in the chair by your bed and looked deliciously disheveled and desperate. You munched happily on your food as the castle staff piled into your room, and answered their questions.

Chan asked the first question.

“Why did you go into the woods?”

You remembered the thoughts that had sent you into the woods, and now that you thought back on them it seemed oftly extreme. It seemed the mirror might have been the cause of them. You chewed thoughtfully as you answered.

“This strange mirror, it told me I could be beautiful…”

You play with your spoon, a little ashamed and blushing deeply as you continue.

“I was a little erratic, I am in love with this man and so I listened to the mirror’s rambles, even if they were irrational.”

You're too focused on your embarrassment to notice the giggles and looks traded among the staff, the way your stepfather's shoulders sink slightly, his disappointed gaze. Because he could never imagine that you love him, you must be in love with some young lord, a man who doesn't deserve your love, who could never give you what you want. He shook his head, putting a stop to that presumptuous line of thought. He knows you deserve someone younger than him, unmarried and full of youthful energy to match your carefree spirit.

You keep glancing at Chan out of the corner of your eye, looking for any change in his expression, and you watch in delight as his shoulders sink, and his face darkens. You feel a flicker of hope spark in your chest, small and pathetic, but there nonetheless. You decide to test the waters a little. Clasping your hands together, you keep your eye on Chan as you speak.

“I'm just so in love, I think of him every day, and I long to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You feel a little bad as you watch Chan’s face fall, watch his hands clenched in his lap. The small flame in your heart sputters and grows, roaring to life and heating your heart in a joyful fire. You are now sure he loves you back. He sends you a strained smile, trying to be encouraging.

“That's, um, wonderful!” The servants giggle behind him, trading secret smiles hidden behind their hands.

“So, when will I meet this wonderful man?” The emphasis on wonderful makes you want to laugh, and you choke back your giggles as you continue.

“You know him.” Confusion flashes across his face. “I do?” The staff is muffling laughter behind their hands, but Chan remains ever oblivious. You smirk. “Yes, very well.”

You think he might be the only person in the room, stuffed to the brim with castle staff, that hasn't gotten it. His brow furrows as he thinks. “Is it Lord Brandish?” You emphatically shake your head. He frowns. “I really can't think of anyone else…”

Your head butler coughed, running a hand through his perfectly combed silver hair. His voice is resigned as he speaks.

“It's you, sire.”

The room is dead silent. Chan stands, his eyes wide as he turns to the head butler. “Really?” The butler nods, and Chan turns again, tripping over the leg of the chair and crashing onto the bed, narrowly avoiding your soup. Your head maid rescues the food from your lap and you grin as Chan blushes, pulling himself into a sitting position. His voice is uncharacteristically shy as he speaks.

“Is it really me?” Your beaming as you nod and a hopeful smile lights up his handsome face. You throw the covers off your legs and stand, your feet hitting the soft carpet with a thud.

Chan takes your hand in his own, and bows before you, bringing his full lips to it. Your heart pounds as he presses a delicate kiss to it. He straightens to his full height “I love you more than you can imagine.” Someone coos in the background, but all you can see is the handsome man in front of you, your hand still clasped in his. He drops your hand, and you feel his hand heavy on your waist, his other hand coming up to caress your jaw, tilting your head up. His voice is so soft as he speaks.

“When I looked into your eyes, my heart felt like it would escape my chest and run into your arms.” Your own heart feels the same, and you wonder if you might die. He's closer to you now, and all you can see is him. Around you, the servants begin to creep out giggling and smiling as they leave. The door shuts behind the last of them but neither of you notice, too caught up in each other's eyes. His voice is raspy now, and his gaze drops to your lips, darting back up to your eyes and back down. “At that moment… I knew I loved you.”

He's so cheesy, and if any other man was saying such sugar-coated words, you would laugh in his face. But when Chan says it, your heart pounds in your chest and your cheeks burn with the fire of your heart. You suppose everything is different with him. His breath hits your lips, intermixing with your own as he comes ever closer. His voice is a whisper when he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” You smile, your hand winding around to grip his shoulders, as you reply. “Please kiss me.”

And so he does.

♔♕♔

Your wedding is a joyous occasion, the townspeople clap happily, and as you kiss your new husband, under a rain of lilies, clutching the precious flower in your hands, you think back on what an odd set of events had preceded it. To think, in a way, you had your mother to thank for your husband. After all, it was she who brought Chan into your life, her death that had indirectly caused the two of you to have an opportunity to become closer and her magic mirror that pushed you to go trecking into the woods in the first place. And as the joyous wedding bells rang through the air, as you and Chan boarded the carriage and sat side by side, your head on his shoulder as the driver whipped the horses into a trot, you found it in yourself to be thankful to her. For although she had caused you a great deal of pain, in the end it had shaped you into the person you were today, a person full of flaws, yes, but those flaws just made you human.

“Why are you so quiet. Having second thoughts?”

You giggled, and snuggled closer into your husband's strong embrace. “I would never.” You replied, and tilted your head up for a kiss.

And as your lips locked, and you drove off into the sunset, you were sure this was the happiest you had been in your whole life, but you knew, there were only happy days to come.

♔♕♔

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#bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan smut #skz #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #bang chan x you #mariannacrxss

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mishmosh-chaos · 3 months ago

Text

|| Vampire Academy Oneshot/Fanfiction ||

Characters: Dimitri Belikov x reader

Word count: 5k + (yes yes, I know it's long!)

Warnings: beside some swearing, I believe there is non, but feel free to correct me!

A/N: Hello, hello! 👋 Ok, I have no idea if anyone will read this, but oh well, here I am nonetheless. Just some info first: you don't know me, but I write, on both my main blog and this side blog, too. I love the VA books, and reading them again recently brought me here. I watched the movie long time ago, but the seria, nope, and I won't. Also, I absolutely adore Rose and Dimitri duo, they are perfect one for another! And even though I sometimes do write "original character's stuff, it is not the case here, so feel free to skip this, no hard feelings! Oh, and as I suck with titles, I left that blank, too! 😅

All right, that's it I guess. To whoever might read this, hope you'll enjoy it. And please, as english is not my main language, don't mind any mistake you might stumble upon!

You stood near the desk in the small office where all guardian business took care of. Guardian Alberta Petrov was sitting behind the desk, and as she finished signing your papers, she stand up streching her hand towards you „All done! It is a pleasure to have you with us, Guardian Y/N.“

You shake her hand back „The pleasure is mine! It's been a long time since I was last involved in something similar, I hope I won't dissapoint you.“

Alberta regards you respectfully „Well, despite your sudden leave of absence, considering your exceptional status and who your reference is, I doubt that.“ You couldn't help a chuckle escape you, knowing exactly who she was speaking of.

Leaning down you pick up your bags, Alberta handing you your room key. You were almost through the doors when she calls back „Guardian Y/N, one more thing.“

You stop and turn to look at her a little intrigued „Yes?“

„I know your classes don't start till Monday, and I know you just got here, but I'm sure that neither our novices, nor their instructor would mind some special education.“

A smile creep on your lips „I absolutely agree with you.“

Alberta nods in respond, her face shoving she was glad you understood her intention „You will find him at the training area. His next class begins in an hour.“

As you made your way across St. Vladimir's courtyard to the traing area excitement started to fill you. But it wasn't only that you felt. How long was it since you last saw him?

Two damn long! your own voice answered in your mind as if chastising you. You knew that voice was right, but you try to dismiss that acusatory feeling away. You had a damn good reason for you absence! At least that's what you thought.

Entering the training area, it didn't take you long to find the right hall. Even though he was with his back to you, you would recognize him anytime, anywhere.

Silently leaning on the door fram and watching him, you couldn't help but smile. His serious voice and tough demeanor, as he walked around his students correcting their mistakes as they sparred, was something you admired him for. He took his role very serious, his experience was vast and they were all very lucky to have him as their instructor.

You waited patiently to reveal your presence, and when once again he chastised his trainees on some mistake, you decide it is time „You know, Guardian Belikov, I have a feeling you have trouble reaching your students.“

Everyone stopped to look at you as you finished speaking, their faces not able to hide astonishment at the fact you just had the courage to question their instructor. But your focus was on him, and even though it lasted just a second and nobody else probably noticed, his body language betrayed him, your smile only growing bigger. I can still surprise him! you thought amused, watching as he finally turns to face you.

Dimitri's attention was now fully directed at you, and damn, those gorgeous dark eyes of his were staring so intensely at you, you began to think how this might not be your greatest idea. But it was too late to back up now.

Dimitri stayed silent, the novices exchanging glances between you two, but you didn't need to look directly at any of them to know they were anxious and excited to find out what was going on here.

„Is that so?“ he finally say not moving from his spot, to all around surely sounding unphased by your previous statement. But you knew him so well, noticing the same excitement on his face as his novices had. He read right through you, that excitement mixing with curiosity to see how you'll continue this charade on.

„It definitely looks so.“ you shrug casually before adding with a touch of dissapointment „Which is a shame, as I was convinced it would be worth my time to chek this particular class out.“

You knew he vasn't taking your words to heart, and now your eyes flashed excitedly as he took a few steps towards you „And how would you try to do that yourself, if you don't mind sharing your wisdon with us, miss...“

„Guardian,“ you quickly correct detaching from the door frame and moving toward him „and perhaps, a live demonstration would be a better way for your students to learn something?“

You come to a standstill a few steps away from him, tilting your head slightly to the side, your eyes firmly fixed on him the entire time, and you barely kept a straight face as you heard gasps escape the novices around you „If, ofcourse, you don't find my proposition too...challenging.“

Being this close to him sent shivers through your body. You forgot how god-like and gorgeous Dimitri was, his intoxicating smell wrapping around you like a spell, you fought hard to keep yourself focused.

With his face now completely hidden from the novices around you, you saw a smile form on his lips before his body tensed, and it seemed he was moving with that godly speed of his as he leaped towards you in an atempt to catch you off guard. And he almost did succeed. Almost.

You barely had time to evade his blow, quickly composing yourelfs, your combat instincts kicking in. He was now facing the novices but his eyes never left you. „Lesson one,“ he says amusement clear in his voice „never let your guard down.“

What followed then was a show and a half! You both had eyes only for one another, unbothered of what was happening around you. And you didn't go easy on eachother, with each move as if trying to challenge eachother more, not worrying at all how each hit you did manage to land might definitely leave a mark.

You were both that good, moving gracefully and with such finess around the hall, not giving much thought how those around you stared in admiration and awe. And you certainly didn't notice the crowd gathering at the door trying to see the spectacle that was happening inside.

You honestly didn't know how much time passed, and oh boy, you were sure you could go on for hours more like this. But a voice suddenly brought you to a stop as a furious guy managed to push himself through the crowd at the door „Belikov! What in the hell is going on here?!“

Dimitri and you both stopped in a flash turning towards the door. You were both breathing heavy from the fight, but in a matter of seconds he was composed and back in that obidient guardian mode of his „My apologies, Guardian Alto. We were just showing the novices some...moves.“

You shake your head and chuckle. It amazed you how easy it was for him to quickly find the right words to any sittuaition. Alto's eyes finally turn to you, and his stare didn't seem that friendly at the moment „And who might you be?“

Dimitri look at you and you both smile, an understanding passing between you. You nod to him and he turns back to Hans, that smile still on his face „This is Guardian Y/N, our new instructor. And a very dear friend of mine.“

The crowd finally cleared, after some more formal introduction to a few guardians and smiles from excited novices as they said their goodbyes, leaving Dimitri and you alone at last.

„You should have informed me about your arrival.“ he pass you a bottle of water before sliding down the wall to sit next to you.

„No way!“ you exclime „Did you see how your students gazed at you with admiration? And not only them.“

Dimitri laugh with full force „You're wrong here – it certainly wasn't me who they were admireing.“

Shifting your body slightly to look better at him you teas „I'm sorry, but is that – is that a hint of jelousy I sense here?“

He laughs again, this time shaking his head „You haven't changed a bit. I should have expected something like this from you.“

„Of course you should have!“ you laugh „It wasn't that long we last saw eachother for you to forget my love of making a grand entrance.“

Now it was his time to turn and look at you, and dear gods, those gorgeous eyes of his regarded you with so much emotions behind them, and you clearly recognized sorrow, even if he tried to hide it. You curse inside, scolding yourself instantly.

A year. Almost a whole year passed since you last saw eachother, and you realized just now, as he gazed at you that it pained him just as much as it did you.

With a sigh he turns his head from you, his gaze now fixed on the window in front of him. „I won't push you to talk,“ he starts after a moment, and you were grateful he broke the silence that started to get uncomfortable. „I know you will when you're ready. But I will say one thing –„ his eyes were now back on you and he once more smile with his whole face „I am really happy you're here, Y/N“

Dimitri still had some classes left for the day, but he informed you he cleared his schedule for the weekend to show you around and so you could catch up, wich made you happy. And, honestly after this little show of yours, you wouldn't mind a shower and some rest.

After the shower you put on your sleeping shirt and shorts and get into bed. But sleep refused to come as Dimitri's words slip into your mind. And you knew he was right – the topic of your sudden leave of absence will eventually be discussed, and it actually scared you. Will you be able to finally tell him the truth?

You knew Dimitri since you were kids, growing up in the same place. He was two years older, but you clicked from the first time you saw eachother, spending all of your free time together. He was always there for you, ready to go through fire if needed to save you from anything, or any one. Not that you needed it much, but when you think back now, most of the times he was there to save you from yourself and your crazy ideas. And you were there for him, too, in the same way.

You both shared a dream to become guardians, and doing all that, side by side with him, was the best time of your life. And that was when things started to get complicated, at least for you. Because, somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him. Hard. And you knew that was going to be a big problem.

You always knew how much Dimitri wanted to become a guardian. There was so much passion in him whenever you two talked about it, even as kids. You wanted to become one, too, there was no doubt about that. But the way he spoke about it, it was astounding.

And you were affraid to say anything to him about your feelings. And how could you?! His long wishful dream was coming to life, and who were you to tell him about your feelings and sway that in any possible way? Sure, times have changed, and Dhampirs getting together wasn't something that was that much looked upon with rejection and disapproval, and honestly, you had no knowledge of what Dimitri's thoughts were on that subject, as you never really talked about it.

And beside, it didn't matter, as you were positive he didn't feel anything even slightly remotely close to what you did. But what you were most afraid of was, that if you did mention anything to him, you would loose your best friend, the other half of your soul, for sure. And you certainly didn't want that, no matter how much it pained you.

So you did the only thing that seemed logical to you at that moment – you left.

Well, you didn't leave the guardians all together, you just kinda took a break from it, going back home under some lame excuse. Dimitri didn't believe your excuse at that time, neither. And it got pretty heated between you the day before you left, shattering your heart to pieces. Because, at the end, he didn't try to stop you from leaving, like really try, and that was the moment where you were quite sure there was no chance that he felt anything even remotely similar as you.

You did keep in touch in the time of your absence, you were best friends after all, not mentioning your departure once, but you haven't saw eachother till today.

So, why did you decide to come back all of a sudden? Well, you believed with all your heart that it didn't matter any more, that your feelings for him weren't there anymore, and you just really wanted your best friend back in your life. So when you heard the position for an instructor opened up at St. Vladimir's, you applied and hoped for the best.

And so, here you were, back to doing what you always dreamed of, and best of all, you had your best friend back. But seeing Dimitri today didn't result with only feelings of happines. Those other feelings, the ones that made your heart beet faster just by knowing he was somewhere close by, came crushing down on you like a wrecking ball making you realize that, no matter how much time you try to spend away from him, can't change the fact you were still very much in love with him.

You curse inside again turning on your side and pulling the covers over your head as if that will somehow magically dispers all your troubles away. With a heavy sigh you shake your head and close your eyes, hoping sleep will come to you afterall.

Damn it, Y/N, what on earth did you get yourself into again!

Eventually, sleep did come to you, even if it did last only for a few hours. That still didn't numb your senses, your guardian instincts kicking in the moment there was a knock at your door.

Jumping out of the bed you squint for a moment, the light from the sun hitting your eyes through the window. Another knock came, and you walk to the doors only to be met with Dimitri's inquiring look. Seeing his face, you tense „Crap, what time is it?“

„It depends,„ he starts amusement clear in his voice „if you want breakfast, I would advise you change into something...different. And fast.“

„Meet you downstairs in five!“ you answer hastily, practically slamming the doors to his face and quickly start to undress moving towards your small wardrobe. Three minutes later and all dressed up, you rush outside jumping two-three steps at the time, reaching Dimitri with a grin „Lead the way!“

Dimitri chuckles as he push open the doors leading out from guardian housing for you to pass „You really took my warning seriously.“

„Well, breakfast is the most important meal!“ you reply and turn your head to look at him with an ever bigger grin then before „And I'm really hungry.“

He gives you a quick amused glance, nodding his head in greeting to a few guardians passing you „You are always hungry.“

„Hey, that's not true!“ you protest getting a laugh out of him in response „If you say so.“

Ooh, that beautiful laugh of his, you forgot how enchanting it sounds. And you missed it deeply.

You reach a building where you supposed the cantina was, Dimitri once more opening to doors for you. The place was pretty big, but most of the tables were vacant by now. He told you to choose where you want to sit and left to get some food.

You were seriously worrying if there was anything left to eat, considering the time, as you weren't exaggerating when you said you were hungry. You were starving!

So when Dimitri joined you lowering a tray full of muffins, croissants and pancakes on the table, along with two glases of freshly squeezed orange juice and two cups of coffee you couldn't hide your surprise „I don't remeber food being THIS good in places like this.“

„You remember correct.“ He replies making your eyes reluclanty peel away from all that delicious food to him. A small smile start to grow on his lips and he leans over the table towards you like he was about to reveal some very hush-hush-top-secret to you, and very itrigued you do the same „But with the right connections, you can change that.“

You couldn't help but laugh, your laughter echoing around almost empty cantina, making those rare few people still there curiously turn towards you. You shake your head and grab one of the muffins „Dear gods, you have GOT to share those connections with me!“

„Oh, I do?“ he questions with a chuckle leaning back in his chair, watching you take a big bite of your muffin, the soft juicy texture melting in your mouth „Absolutely, it's what friends do. Especially best friends.“

„Do best friends also leave without good reason?“

His words were like ice cold water splashed in your face. You knew this conversation was bound to happen, but he said he wouldn't push you to talk. So why, why was he doing it?

„Dimitri, please, can't we- can't we just leave this for later?“ You didn't dare to look at him, your eyes numbly staring at the half eaten muffin in front of you, its sweet taste now slowly being replaced with a bitter one. „You said you would let it be untill I'm ready to talk about it, you said you won't push it, so please – I beg you, just let it be for now.“

„True, I did say so.“ he begins, and you had trouble reading what he was feeling from his voice alone, but you still dared not to look at him. „It's just – I don't understand.“ Now you clearly could decipher frustration in his voice, but there was also sadness, worry and desperation in it, which only made your heart squeez more. „I couldn't understant it then, and I still don't to this day. So why did you do it?“

You close your eyes affraid that if you slip and look at him, you will break down and cry. Why couldn't he waited at least one day, just one day for you to enjoy spending time with your best friend like it used to be, before it all turns to dust and your life once more gets filled with misery and pain.

You almost jump in your chair when you feel his warm hand gently lowering on yours „Y/N, why won't you talk to me?“

Opening your eyes, you finally get the courage to look at him. And, oh saints, those dark eyes once again stared at you with so much care and worry behind them, you were wondering how your heart was still beating through all the pain you felt.

You knew it was pointless to drag this any longer, it was only a torture for both of you. And even though you were aware that in a moment you would hurt even more, it was time to come clean.

„Ah, Dimitri, there you are!“ a womans voice suddenly reach you and pull you out of your thoughts, and it took you a moment to realized who it belonged to. Alberta was walking towards your table, and as she joined you, you also just then noticed Dimitri's hand wasn't resting on yours any longer. And that kinda sting you for some reason.

„I am very sorry to interupt you.“ Alberta was glancing between you two, apparently not noticing the tension that was radiating from both. Her eyes rest on you now „I'm sure you two had plans, but I'm affraid Guardian Y/N, I have to borrow Dimitri for a while.“

As you sat there pondering weather Alberta's interrupting you was a good thing or not, Dimitri speaking brought you back to focus „That is no problem at all.“

He was looking at her now, and was already begining to stan up ready to leave, which send another sting to you. Was he that eager to get away from you?

„No need to apologize,“ you begin your stare shooting daggers at Dimitri. Two can play this game, my friend!

„We both know how Dimitri takes his obligations seriously. And our little chit chat can certainly wait for a while longer.“

This got him to look at you, but you quickly turn to alberta flashing her your most wide smile „And please, call me Y/N. No need to be so formal, as far as I'm concerned.“

Alberta nod and smile back „I agree. And once again, I really am sorry for this.“ She turns her look to Dimitri „If you're ready?“

Dimitri's gaze was still fixed on you, and you notice him reluclantly turn to her and nod „Let's go.“

When they moved away a bit, you let a shaky but relieved breath out, grateful this was over. But not a heartbeat later your whole body tense as you feel Dimitri sneak behind you leaning down to your ear, his warm breath on your neck sending both goosebumps and shivers through you „This is far from over.“

Damn!

As it turned out, Dimitri was occupied for the rest of the day. That left you to explore and get acquainted with St. Vladimir's place by your self. But unfortunately, it also meant it left you alone with your thoughts, too. And as the day was moving closer to its end, you began to lose that courage you had at breakfast more and more.

As you were still on human schedule, you were glad that there weren't so many people as you walked around. You were definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment, although you did run into Alberta at one point, who informed you about Dimitri and offered to show you around instead. As politely possible you rejected her offer, which didn't seem to bother her, but you did use this opportunity to ask of her a permission to go to a nearby town tomorrow morning for some personal supplies. After it, you did some more exploring, grabbed something to eat and went back to your room as more and more studens and guardians began to emerge around ready to star with their day.

In the morning you learned from the guardina on duty at the main gates that Alberta arranged for you to take one of the cars from the academy. It would be a pain in the butt to get to the nearest town without it, so you were very grateful for it. You should definitely buy that woman something as a way of thanking her for all she'd done for you since you arrived.

The almost two hours long drive was revitalizing on you. It was late spring, and the scenery along the way was kinda serene. You rolled both windows down, letting the soft wind carry the sweet scent of flowers and trees in bloom through the car.

When you reached the town, it didn't take you long to find the only shopping mall there, and you did your supplies run pretty fast. You decided to eat here too, not really having a rushing desire to get back to the academy. And, lets be honest here, a chance to run into Dimitri.

Sipping the coffee after your meal you obsereved the passerbys and their carefree faces. And you envied them on it, knowing what awaits you once you get back. You dreded it, but you knew you had to face Dimitri and tell him the truth, you couldn't keep going on like this. And maybe, when you finally do get everything off of your chest, you can begin to heal and eventually move on. Maybe.

And noticing the time, with a heavy sight you leave some money on the table, gather your stuff and start walking back to the car. It was time to get this over once and for all.

It was almost completely dark when you parked the car back at academy's garage. Taking your stuff you hand the car key to the guardian in charge there and head out. The voices around you became louder as more and more students of both Guardians and Morois left the comforts of their rooms and went on to begin their day.

You head towards the guardian office in search of Alberta, but she wasn't in at the momen, so you leave a little package on her table and grab a paper to write a note expressing your thanks to her. Leaving the building you barely made a few steps when you sense someone approaching you.

„That's where you've been all day? Shopping“ Dimitri say glancing at the bags in your hand.

„Why so surprised?“ you ask back, your question coming out a bit more frustrating than you actually meant to.

„Because I know you,“ he reply and sigh before continuing „and judging by your current mood, I could even dare to imply that you were doing it also as a method to avoid me for the day.“

„Is that so? Huh, what, you read minds now, too?“ you snap back, and almost run full force at Dimitri who suddenly appears in front of you not trying to hide annoyance from his face „All right, Y/N, enough is enough! What is going on with you?!“

„Oh I don't know, why don't you tell me, as you seem to think you know everything!“

You were almost yelling now, your raising voice starting to attract curious glances from the ones passing you by. Dimitri noticed it, too, so he grabs you by the arm, and not very gently, leading you towards the guardian training building.

Ushering you inside, he finally lets go of your arm striding over to the desk to turn on the small lamp. Facing you, he leans on it crossing his arms infront of him „All righ, now talk!“

„Fine.“ You start, dropping the bags you were still holding on the floor mimicking his arm crossing gesture „What would you like to talk about? About my shopping trip some more perhaps? Or how my drive to the town went? Or maybe-„

„Stop playing dumb, Y/N!“ he interrupts you, and you actually wince from the harsh tone of his voice. It always seemed impossible for Dimitri to lose his composure. Things would have to get really, really bad for him to snap like this, and you had no idea what to expect next.

„Damn it, Y/N,“ he starts again now moving from the desk, pacing back and forth in front of it „I don't get it! I don't get what's going on here, what's going on with you! You've been on edge from the moment you came here, and for the love of it all, I can't understand why! But I'm starting to think how it definitely have something to do with me! So tell me!“ he stops pacing to look at you, his eyes begging you for the answer „What have I done to deserve this kind of behaviour from you?!“

„It's what you didn't do!“ you yell back instantly, your words clearly taking him aback.

„It's what you didn't do that's the problem here.“ you repeat again after a moment of silence, almost whispering it, crumbling to the floor, wondering when the tears started to come out of your eyes.

There is and old japanese legend that says crying is how your eyes speak when your heart is too broken for words. And that's how you felt right now, like your heart was breaking into million pieces, the pain running so deep, your broken heart unabeling you to form the wright words.

But you had to try, you had to! You reached the point of no return, and you owed it to him, to both of you, to stop this charade from going on any longer. What happens next is entirely in fates hands.

And you had no clue how to even begin explaining this, so you blurt out the first thing that did come to you „I love you, Dimitri. And I don't mean it like a brotherly love. I love – I'm in love with you, so much that I had to run away from you how much it pained me. I tried to fight it, I so much wanted for it to not be true. I spent almost a year trying to convince myself that I was wrong, that I was delusional, that my feelings weren't real.

And it was working, I swear it was! I was victorious! I beat the odds, dispersing those feelings away. I thought of you again as my best friend, only as my best friend. And I knew, I knew with all my heart everything will be all right again.“

Moment ago you had trouble finding the right words, and now they just kept pouring out. You still couldn't, dared to look at his face, afraid that if you do, those words would just stop. So you focus on your clasped hands, and take a deep breath before continuing.

„But I was wrong, so very wrong. When I saw you yesterday, I was so happy. I missed you so much, that just the knowledge of you being somewhere close by was euphoric to me. But at the same time, all those feelings I was so sure were gone came crushing down on me like a wave, and I was fighting so damn hard again to keep my head above the waters surface.

And I know, believe me, I know it's wrong, I know that. And I know I should have been stronger, I should have fought harder to defeat it, and gods, I will, I will fight it, I promise! I will be victorius again, this time for good! I just wish that – I hope that you knowing all this now won't make you push me out of your life completely. Because I know you don't feel the same, and thats all right, it really is, but I just – I just don't want to lose my best friend, I don't. I can't.“

And that was it – the words left you, you said what was weighing on your soul. And honestly, you didn't feel any better than before. You felt defeated. Because, how on earth could this have even a remote chance of ending up in a good way.

The tension that filled the room was terrifying, the silence around you only making it worse. So when you noticed Dimitri's slow steps coming towards you, a voice inside of your mind screamed and begged for you to get up and run. But you couldn't. You were frozen in place, praying silently for the hard floor beneth you to open up and swallow you.

The lamp on the desk might be small, but the shadow it casted as Dimitri was almost in front of you was intimidating, so you grit your teeth, bracing yourself for the worst.

So when Dimitri stopped to kneel in front of you, his warm hands cupping your cheeks and moving your head so you could look at him you thought you were dreaming. Once again, there was so many emotions behind his eyes, and you didn't know what to think of it.

„What, you read minds now, too?“ he finally say, chuckling a moment later, probably at the very dumbfounded look on your face. You wanted to speak, to ask him what was going on here, but the words got stuck in your throath. Screaming silently at yourself to get a grip, it took you a while to finally becom coherent enough to form any words „What?“

Being sure he had your full attention now, he moves his hands from your face, but only so he could take a hold of yours "What I mean is, I really wish you told me all of this a year ago."

"Why?" you question back quickly averting your eyes away "So you could reject me sooner and finally be done with me?"

"No, Y/N" he answers you, his voice so sweet, you were sure you never heard him sound like this before, and it only got sweeter as he spoke again "so I could tell you the feelings are mutual."

If before you had a really dumbfounded look on your face, you could not possibly imagine how you looked now. Did you hear him correctly? Or were you lost somewhere so deep in your mind imagining all of this, playing a scenario of how you wished for things to unfold.

"Please, Dimitri," you finally start sounding so tired "please, don't do this to me. Don't lie, don't go and say something you don't really mean just for my sake. Don't toy with my heart like this because - because it can't possibly survive any more pain."

Dimitri's gentle fingers touch your chin and he turns your head towards him, his eyes staring so intensely at you "I have never lied to you before, and I have no intention to start now, neither."

You always believed, no, you were absolutely, one hundred percent positive there was no way, not even a slightes possibility for anything, or anyone, to catch Dimitri off guard. So when you suddenly leapt at him throwing your hands around his neck and crushing your lips so fiercly on his, you were genuinely surprised your action resulted in his back coliding with the floor with a loud thud.

But just as quickly his composure was back, his arms wrapping around you pulling you closer and deepening the kiss, with every passing heartbeat a blissful sensation spreading all over your body. It was mesmerizing. It was magic.

And in that moment, while your bodies ached to get even closer, a realization hit you - it was happening, this was really happening! Dimitri love you, he really do love you.

You wanted to stay like this forever, still somewhat afraid that if you break the kiss, the spell around you would break, too.

Reluclantly, you break the kiss gasping for air, but his strong arms were still holding you firmly, giving you just enough room to move your head slightly, resting your forehead on his. Still not quite believing what was happening you chuckle as a thought suddenly comes back to you "What happened with your lesson number one?"

Dimitri laughs fully at your words"Hmh, I don't know. But it seems like I have trouble with more than just not reaching to my students."

Now it was your turn to laugh "It really seems so. You should definitely do something about that."

"Mhm, I agree. Perhaps I'm in need of another live demonstration."

One of his hands move from your back to your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and pushing gently towards him for another kiss. While the first one was full of hunger and longing, this kiss was soft and sweet, full of love.

A moment later he breaks the kiss to look at you "You know, as much as I don't mind being like this sprawled on the floor, I have a proposition for you."

"You do?" you question back hazily keeping your eyes closed, just enjoying being like this with him "And what do you propose?"

"I was thinking, perhaps it would be better if we continue this somewhere more...comfortable?"

In a flash, your eyes were open, and you jump to your feet leaving poor Dimitri looking at you with confusion as the meaning of his words finally come to understanding. With a mischievous grin and look full of desire you grab his hand and pull him to a stand "Your room, or mine?"

#vampire academy #vampire academy oneshot #vampire academy fanfiction #vampire academy fanfic #vampire academy dimitri #vampire academy dimitri x reader #vampire academy dimitri belikov #dimitri belikov #dimitri belikov x reader

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runawaymun · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by: @zealouswerewolfcollector @melestasflight & @niennawept - thanks guys!!!!

Under the cut for length.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

43 total. 26 on my reg runawaymun account, and 17 spicy works under spicy_runawaymun.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

466,324. Geez.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just Tolkien. Mostly focusing on early third age and late second age. I used to write for Stargate and Doctor Who but that was like ten years ago.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

To Partake - 842 kudos - Longfic in progress. Elrond/Celebrimbor set in the second age, based loosely off The Rings of Power but it's really gone off the rails now because I didn't like some choices in the show and am trying to fix them haha. Show knowledge is honestly not needed because I stop following it after like the seventh chapter. Mostly an Elrond character study disguised as porn.

And the Stars Shine the Same - 695 kudos - Longfic, complete. a look at early third age Rivendell as told by two kids from proto-Rohan who get adopted into Elrond's family out of harsh and traumatic circumstances.

Beneath a Boundless Sky - 520 kudos - longfic and in progress. Sequel to above. Much wider scope. Dealing with the politics of proto-Rohan and exploring Fram's rise to power, while also keeping a firm focus on Elrond, his relationship with Maglor, and his relationship with his family. Oh yeah, and there's an eldritch monster in the mix (one that isn't Elrond that is!)

A Gown Spun from Starlight - 400 kudos - Thranduil x Reader insert oneshot. Mostly fluff.

Supine - 358 kudos - exploratory kidnap fam multi shot. Mostly Maedhros-centric.

Tinúvion - 289 kudos - Oneshot. Elrond and Sauron meet and hiss at each other and fight over Gil-Galad for 1972 words. Sauron shits his pants. Transitive property Luthien-Elrond.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes often my spoons are low so I am not always as fast as I like. But I endeavor to respond to everybody!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ohhhhh. Let me think, here. Probably That We Are Still - in which Elrond has a foresight nightmare about Cel's death and they have sex about it, which fixes nothing.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them have happy endings, because I love happy endings and I've written a good deal of fluff! I think And the Stars Shine the Same has the happiest/most satisfying ending, though. But it's an unfair comparison because it's a longfic. But Never Doubt I Love (Russingon) has a happy/bittersweet ending that's one of my favs. And Equinox (Elrond and Lindir's first meeting) is just pure sugar haha.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I recall, honestly. Hopefully it stays that way. I've gotten one or two slightly homophobic comments but I believe the commenter meant well. It was a weird experience.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! I find exploring how characters are sexual really really fascinating. It's like a microcosm of everything -- of their relationships, of their trauma, of their securities and insecurities. It's so interesting and fun! And especially the journeys that characters can take sexually, learning to open up and explore :) it's very rewarding. All of that is over on my spicy account. It's nearly exclusively Celrond but there's a few others in there.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've written a few, but none on AO3. My favorite was one I wrote a long time ago where SG-1 (Stargate SG-1) got into a tangled up mission with the Eleventh Doctor and River. I also do a lot of daydreaming and play in my free time imagining my OCs from my original works winding up in middle earth. :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had someone offer but if it wound up happening, I wasn't tagged, so I am not sure! But receiving the offer was very nice <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not any of the ones posted to AO3, but @the-commonplace-book and I have collaborated on a lot of work together! I'm always open to collaboration. It's so much fun.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

CELROND CELROND CELROND. Though Brimbrond is becoming a close contender now!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them, really. I try not to doubt I will finish things and just trust my process. I am a naturally slow writer who's a perfectionist and tends to hop from project to project, which is why I focus myself on one or two longfics at most, and I just let the others percolate in outline form until I finish something. I used to not finish things ever and it drove me crazy, so I try my best to stay focused so that things will always get finished in their due time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Prose. Action and horror. Long character arcs -- especially the unfolding of characters who are recovering from traumatic experiences. I have a pattern haha.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions of settings and characters (I know what they look like in my head and have to actively remind myself that this image isn't downloaded into someone's brain). Politics and schemes. And IMO I am not good at twisty plots. I tend to write pretty linear progressions with few unexpected surprises.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic.

I like peppering individual words here and there, or perhaps small phrases. Pet names, absolutely. But nothing more than that. IMO adding in language can really help ground a story in the worldbuilding.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Funnily enough, Tolkien. When I was a kid I set out to rewrite the entire books just from Merry and Pippin's perspectives. I did not get very far.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I think it's honest to god And the Stars Shine the Same. I am obviously fond of To Partake, but Stars just is in its own special category for me. It came to me at the exact right time in my life when I really needed it. It's a very personal story, and it revived my love of writing and reminded me why I liked doing it.

I am rather late to this and I am not sure who has been tagged and who hasn't, so forgive me if I tag someone who has already done this! But no pressure tags for: @emyn-arnens @jaz-the-bard @lordgrimwing @greyjedijaneite @maglor-my-beloved and whomever else would like to participate!

#20 questions for fic writers

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caxde · 2 years ago

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roses and dandelions | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Hopper's daughter as soon as you could you moved fram from Hawkins, some years later you come back to teach at the High School, and you find Steve Harrington has become the new History teacher.

word count: 5.4k

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it), comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!. teacher!steve AU!!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!!

Steve loved his job.

And for once he was actually proud of what he was doing, and what he had become. He had managed to get into collage, and worked his way through it, managing to get the top marks in his degree, turns out that if he was actually passionate in what was thought, he had no problem in keeping attention. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge that his end goal was not where he was, but it turns out he was content with it. A quiet life, back in Hawkins, in a house of his own, teaching History to high schoolers. They weren’t the little nuggets that he had aimed for, but regardless, he enjoyed the occasional connection with an abnormally curious mind.

He liked it. The quiet, the normalness, the stillness almost.

It also made him giggle, being called Mr.Harrington. It seems like the walls of the Hawkins’ High School had seen the evolution, from posh-boy Stevie, King-Steve, loverboy-Steve, nice-Steve to finally years later, Mr.Harrington. He remembers writing it on his first day on the chalkboard and not being able to stop smiling to himself. He had made it, it wasn’t inherited, it wasn’t gifted, he had accomplished it himself.

So on days like this, early January, where the coldness seemed to drain the morale, he stuck into that thought.

He taught his classes for today, and was hanging back in his classroom for a bit, grading some work from his senior class. His radio hummed soft music as he concentrated, hand on his chin that played absentmindedly with his short 3 day beard. He was interrupted as he heard a loud thump on the other side of the wall.

Funny enough, you were there.

Surrounded by empty canvases, you were struggling to make the room feel better. You had worked in so many artists' workshops that you had certain habits that were hard to break. You needed a space dedicated in its entirety to paint, and you had spent the last hour organizing it. Half empty bottles were up to the front, the first three always had to be the three primary colours, yellow, blue and red. Followed by white and black. Then came the secondary ones, and the tertiary colours. The paintbrushes that could be saved and weren’t to badly beat layed bristles up in a jar. You only had acrylics and you had made a mental note to ask permission to get some oils next. However, the canvases couldn’t stop hitting the floor every time you tried to reorganize them. So you were exhausted and piled them on the ground by shape. Deciding to reorganize the high tables. You knocked one of the stools into the ground.

A loud thump.

“You okay?” Even if his tone of voice didn’t make it obvious the fact that he had rushed over, seeing his glasses sliding down his nose did. Once you turned around and actually connected the voice to his face a little upside down smile appeared in his lips, while you nodded and looked at the ground. A faint blush appears on your cheeks.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it Harrington.” You scoffed as you bent down again to pick the fallen piece of furniture.

“I didn’t know you were back in town…” He whispered as he came closer to you, standing in front of you, watching you closely as you relocated the stool.

“Well, I got maybe a little too many calls from Principal Higgins, about how they had nobody to come and ‘save the arts’ and bla bla bla… So… yeah.” You tried to explain without getting into too much detail, eyeing the classroom that was in truely a deprovable state. “And I don’t know where to actually put the tables so it makes sense.” He hides a smile as he scratches the back of his neck, looking around.

“I’ll help.” He says as he starts heading into one of the high tables.

“You don’t have to.” You tell him as you grab a sheet of paper and start sketching a quick idea of the distribution, the pencil always rests on your right ear.

“I know. But if you actually give me an excuse to stop grading papers, you would actually be doing me a favour.” He says in a happy tone, as he rests his forearms on top of the table where your paper rested, his eyes looking deep into yours as you concentrated. His face relaxed as he watched you, and if he was being sincere, it didn’t surprise him.

“Okay, if I’m your excuse… Guess you can.” You answered absentmindedly, as your whole focus was on making sure that the little game of tetris made sense on the paper.

As you started moving boxes around, Steve’s head had a million questions that he couldn’t help but ask. He was shocked to see you again, and if you’re honest, you were quite embarrassed to be back here again.

“So what about New York?” He asked cheerfully, and regretted it when he saw how your mouth slightly opened and your eyes flinched at that.

“Well, New York will wait… I hope.” You whisper the final part, but he hears it nonetheless.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You had to interrupt him. You could tell he was about to rumble away as he always did when he tried to fix things that remained unfixable.

“It’s alright Harrington. It’s just, that way” You point before getting more in depth, your voice rising above the squeals the tables make. “I’ve worked so hard, y’know? And I finally had, like my own space at a gallery and even if my work wasn't gonna be there, MoMa called back about the job interview and… I don’t know. I’ve still got the place in the gallery but now they won’t actually give me a space until late May…” You rumble away as the table is finally in its right place. “I just thought I had finally made it, I think…”

“You have. You’ve just got to wait now.” He reassures as he starts pushing the next table, his eyes had not left your face while you rumbled away, his full attention laid on you.

“I hate waiting.” You replay as the room finally is in shape. He pulls up the canvases and gives you a questioning look. “Between the cabinet and the wall there.” You point out, eyeing the whole room.

“I remember. You were always so…”

“Careful now.” You tease him as he tries to find a word to end his sentence.

“Impulsive?” You laughed as you crossed your arms, and he gave you a soft smile. You looked at him for once. It had been about five years since you left for New York, and yet he still looked the same. His hair had grown a bit, but it remained as messy as it always did. The glasses and bear were a new addition, one that made you get lost in him for a bit longer than you did before. You smile softly as you remember how many times you told him how good he’d look with a beard and he proves you right.

“Hey!” You scream back at him, as you both giggle and laugh. “You did overthink a lot.” That makes him chuckle as his arms crossed in front of his chest, and your eyes inevitably focus on his upper arms a bit.

“Still do, H '' He says, using the old nickname he once gave you. “You still make people call you that?”

“Miss.H?” You ask him, as you clean your things up, putting them neatly into your backpack so you can head back home. “Yeah, Hopper is way too close to dad.”

“Figured.” He smiles, an upside down smile that makes something deep inside you flutter ever so slightly. “You still in the cabin?”

“Yeah, he left for Cali with Joyce, and I just sorta bought it from him, you know… A big atelier…” He laughed softly with you, his face softening as he fixated on your movements.

“See, you might like being back.” He teases as he fixes his eyeglasses.

“Don’t push it Harrington.”

“Mr.Harrington now.” He finishes, making you both laugh.

January flew by.

And with it, your new routine settled quickly. You woke up with not that much time to spare before having to get the car to get in actual time to your first class. Funny enough, teaching wasn’t as bad as you remembered. Granted, the last time you taught you had spoiled upper-east side kids that thought that making an abstract painting was simply spilling paint into a big canvas, devoid of meaning. It deeply infuriated you.

Thankfully, this time around the kids seemed to actually be interested, and to actually want to learn what you tried to convey.

However, on this February morning, everything was going exactly as it wasn’t supposed to. To make matters worse, your car had given up and was now refusing to turn on. Frustrated and about to give up, you decide to call for help.

You were whispering to yourself, pickuppickuppickup, as the tones of the phone answered you.

“Good morning.” You struggled to hide a groan at his happy tone.

“Help?” You asked as your voice croaked, it being your first word of the day, besides a series of curses dedicated to your car.

“What do you need, H?” Steve's voice sounded worried now, and you scoffed in an attempt to make him relax.

“My stupid car has died. Can you come pick me up? Please? I’ll buy you dinner if you wanna, as a thank you.” You explain yourself as you hit the floor with your heavy boots. He could hear you doing so, just as you could hear him smile.

“Are you bribing me, bub?” He asks. You can feel your face warming up as you register the stupid pet name.

“Only if it is working.” You declare, receiving nothing but silence. “Is it working?”

“On my way.” He says before he hangs up.

Truth be told, you didn’t have to wait that long, but still, you managed to get lost in some sketches as you waited. So, when Steve found you, curled up on your house steps, head focused on whatever you were doodling, he could help but smile at you. Soft, kind and adoring smile. He stopped the car, and opened the door for you, a smirk on his face as you told him good morning stevie.

“You know, you’re the only one allowed to call me that.” He teases as he starts the car back up.

“Course I am.” You tease him back, slapping your thigh as a distraction from your yawning.

“Did you eat?” He asks, his eyes didn’t leave the road often, but he couldn’t help himself. You were on the passenger seat, hair falling in a calculated mess, and you scratching your eye made him melt a bit on the inside. So as soon as you shake your head no, he reaches on the center console, and gives you a little mug. You chuckle at that. “It’s coffee.” He explains. “I’ve got a croissant in my bag, you can have it.” He tells you, as your cheeks warm up, a pinkish tone invading them.

“You take your mugs into school?” You tease him as a way to say thank you. Taking it to your lips, leaning your head back as soon as you drink it.

“Yeah, you know… trying to take the plastic use down.” He explains, as he reaches for the same mug, your hands touching for a second. An electric feeling invading your skin for a moment. You watch him closely as his lips hit the white porcelain, you feel your lips tingle a bit. He looks closely at you as he hits a red light, handing the mug back at you. “Seriously, eat the croissant.” He insists, as you can’t hide your blushing skin anymore, and this time he does notice it, a smile appearing on his face.

“O-kay, but you’ll eat half of it, ‘kay?” You try to reason with him, as he tilts your head at you, a mocking stare. “C’mon, you know I don’t eat that much.” He nodded as his left hand changed the car gear.

“You’ll have to feed me though” He teased as his hands were now occupied, his face concentrated once again, as he closed distance with the school. He thinks you won’t, because if he’s honest, it will make him just as nervous as it will make you, having your hand that close to his lips. Not really sure what was going on, but you were in no rush to find out, you just enjoyed it. So his eyes opened a bit as he heard the cracking of the baked pastry on your hand. His head slightly turned to you as his eyes don’t leave the road. Your heart beating a bit harder as you closed distance, his lips kissing your fingers as he bites down.

When the car stops you share a look. An intimate moment while you too share the improvised breakfast, enjoying the stillness of this moment, the quiet and the sense of familiarity it itself held. You knew as much as he did, that you wished you could just stay there.

Two weeks had passed, and it became a routine.

He’d come and pick you up, he’ll bring two mugs of coffee, and you’d have some sort of quick breakfast for you both to eat on your way. You’d do your classes, he’d do his, and at the end of the day, he’d let you home and wish you a good night with a soft blink.

And with it, came two things.

Feelings that were left in the unknown, and a swarm of students that had seen you come together and started speculating about your relationship. That last part made you smile to yourself every time you overheard them speculate.

“Bethany saw them arriving together” “Trevor said he saw miss.H give mr.Harrington a kiss on the cheek.” “They left together yesterday”.

You told Steve about it as soon as you heard, and he laughed as hard as you did. So you did some pantomimes in front of some students, like a little inside joke. But if he was to be honest with himself, he liked messing with you. He likes spending time with you, and if it served him as an excuse to touch your hand, or let his hand rest on the small of your back more often, he was more than happy to do so. And then again, the same could be said by you. You probably didn’t need to touch his upper arm as often as you did, or tease him as much as you did, but still, you did because you liked his presence.

The last Period of the week came around, senior class. You knew you weren’t supposed to have favourites, but then again, you liked that they actually were curious about the world and asked all the right things.

You had some objects in each table and a simple phrase written on the blackboard. choose one.

They slowly did, as they came in, the usual hello miss.h! was followed by a chorus of what is this? that made you giggle inside. In one of the tables were some postcards, the following one had a collection of letters (with the signature hidden), the other one had some pictures of landscapes, and the final one had a lot of pictures that you had taken.

As all of your students had one in each hand, you placed yourself in the middle, all eyes on you, and a murmuring silence with unparalleled attention.

“Hello” You chirped happily, this might be your favourite assignment to date. “So, I’ll go straight to it, that okay?” You asked as you watched for your students to nod or say something, which they did. “Alright, so. You have different objects in your hands, and I’ll give you a month where you can work in this classroom and at your houses, okay? You’ll need to come up with a painting, sculpture, drawing… I don't care as long as it is original, inspired by what you are holding. I don’t care if the only thing that you produce is as big as a pencil sharpener, or as big as you are. I want you to actually be moved by what you produced, and to register the process. In other words, don’t get too stressed by the ending product, and just enjoy the process. Okay? We’ll work here and I’ll be here for any questions or anything you need, but, if you could actually you know, work? That would be lovely.” You heard your students giggle at that, and you smiled proudly at them, clapping your hands as you finished explaining the assignment. “Okay, let’s put on some music, yeah?” They all cheered happily as they headed for the stereo.

You truly didn’t need to stress with them. You knew what they were about to do, so you went back to the tables and gathered what they hadn’t selected, handling it all with care. And your heart stopped when you reached the letters and found the old post.it that Steve had once wrote. “I know I won’t remember in the morning, but I also know I won’t even shut up about that kiss” Embarrassed with that memory you held it in your hand as some of your students huddled to you.

“Miss.H?” The shortest of the three asked for your attention, and your slightly blushed cheeks looked up rapidly at them.

“Ye- Yes?” You muttered as you composed yourself.

“Will you do the assignment with us, like last time?” She asked again, and you smiled at them, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

“Do you guys want me to?” You asked, honesty evident in your voice.

“We love seeing your art, Miss.H.” The taller one now spoke.

“Ah, flattery.” You teased, as they giggled at your answer. “That will take you anywhere with me. Sure.”

“Great!” They cheered as they went back to their table, stopping suddenly when the door opened and Steve stood there.

You looked at him, forgetting for a second how good he looked today. That stupid blue shirt hugged his arms a bit too well, and the maroon pants complimented his thighs in a way that made your blood rush a bit too much. He had his 3 day beard again, and he just stood there, reclining his body onto your classroom threshold, asking with his look for a quick conversation. You walked over as you heard the girls chattering amongst themselves.

“What do you need?” You asked, a bit too casually, forgetting that you were actually the teachers and not just some friends in a bar.

“I told you this morning that my class had a test last period.” He sounded a little pissed off. And his eyebrow furrowed, as your hand reached your forehead, an apologetic look on your eyes.

“Shit, I forgot.” You whispered. Steve seemed to forget about it for a second, as he saw the little post-it in your hand. Grabbing your hand in a swift motion and opening it up. Your face was now as red as the new paint you bought.

You could see him reading the note and a smile appeared as he looked you up and down. He did remember writing it, years ago, on the night you left to New York. On the night he had been brave and told you everything he meant to tell you before. He had forgotten all about the test for a second.

“You still have this?” He asks, not really believing that you would still save such a silly bit of paper. Waving it in front of your face, his eyes seemed brighter all of a sudden

“Yeah…” You were in a loss for words, too embarrassed to actually say anything. He forgot for a moment that you were not alone, as he placed it back on the palm of your hand, and tucked a flock of hair behind your ear, his thumb slightly caressing your cheek, carefully, leaving a tray of warmth and goosebumps, in both your face and his fingers. “I’ll turn the music off.” You whisper, as your eyes get lost in his, momentarily getting lost on his pinkish lips.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah…” He whispered, lost on you. “Do you have plans tomorrow?” He had decided to be brave again.

“No.”

“Wanna get dinner tomorrow night?” He asks, his eyes shine at you, as you smile brighter.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great, then it's a date…” He said as he left, his eyes had shined as he looked back at your lips, and you didn’t quite believe it. A stupid daze evident on your face.

Robin had just got off the phone with Steve when you called, so her immediate reaction was to laugh when she saw your number, and you were left shocked about her laughing.

“What are you laughing for?” You demanded, a hint of anxiety evident in your voice.

“Loverboy just called me.” She laughed as she spoke.

“Steve?”

“Mmh.” She affirmed.

“Shit.” You both laughed at that, your hand reaching your forehead. “He told you already?” She made the same sound again, and you sighed as a response. “What did he say?”

“Oh, you know, that he had finally asked you out. And I just scolded him for not doing it sooner… I mean, I love you, but hearing you wailing about him for the last five years…”

“I didn’t wail…” You try to no avail to convince her, but she just scoffs at you. “Maybe a little.”

“Come on, you both have been in love with each other for so long… Just get on your nice dress, the black one, get a good coat and be ready, it’ll go fine.” She calmed you down, knowing exactly that that’s why you called, she wasted no time.

“I love you Robs.” You told her, with a wide smile on your face.

“I know, now, go. Don’t use me as an excuse.”

“Kay, bye.”

“Bye, lovergirl.” She giggles as she hangs up. Leaving you in the quiet of the cabin.

You did enjoy the silence, the quiet of the woods that surrendered you, but still, you opted to put on some music, just something to ease your brain from overrunning. Once again, Bowie’s voice filled the space, making it all easier, from dressing yourself up, to doing your hair, applying some makeup, and yes, taking a shot of your fathers hidden whiskey to ease the nerves.

He told you he’d pick you up, so the only thing left to do was wait.

You didn’t have to wait long anyway.

Though he wasn’t used to the feeling, he could recognise the nervousness energy that his body emanated.

Which is why he had called Robin in the first place, he wasn’t sure if he should wear the button down, the sweater… He was in a crisis, and obviously Robin had laughed her ass off. The only thing she had told him was to not shave, and he didn’t quite believe her when she told him that you had always liked how he looked with one.

So with five minutes to spare, he was in his backyard, well, not technically, he was invading Mss.Jackson’s so he could steal your favourite flower. Stupid as it may be, he’d known that it would make you smile, and Steve would make anything to see you smile again.

And he knew it was cheesy and a cliché, but as soon as he laid eyes on you, his heart seemed to skip a beat. Your body looked splendid with that little black dress, your legs covered with warm tights, and a coat that kept you warm. The thing that drove him crazier, was how your lips were now blood red, curling upwards as you locked eyes with him.

Then again, yours did the same.

You couldn’t help but take a second, just a moment to memorize him. Standing against his car, face slightly buried inside a small bouquet of wild flowers. Roses and dandelions. As stupid as it was, it made you feel heard and seen, him remembering that this combination was your favourite, not only that but, his white knit jumper made him look softer, it seemed to be a gateway to the old Steve. The one that had been in love with you and told you so before you left, the one you kissed as a final goodbye, the same one that left the note that you still carried on your wallet.

The date had passed by too fast. A conversation that didn’t ever end, not really, not even now, when the slight buzz of the wine was beginning to wear off, and you were standing up, outside your little house, smoking as you avoided saying goodbye.

“I truely can’t believe you smoke that crap.” He teases again, smiling down at you.

“Hey, sue me, I like them better than Newport’s.” You tease back, your eyes looking at the flowers that were still on his hand. He laughs at that, and a wisp of courage invades you for a second. “Do you want to come in? Put the flowers away?” You ask, softly, embarrassed about the fact that your skin is bright pink as you ask that, your hand scratching your upper arm. But the smile on his face relaxes you.

“I’d love to.” He admits, as he follows you inside. He watches you closely as the familiarity invades you. As soon as you open the door, you hang your coat on the hanger on the wall. Letting your cigarette rest softly in between your darken lips, he is mesmerized by you, and the easiness that you seem to radiate as you put your hair up. He chuckles as he sees you move so gracefully.

“What?” You ask, a soft tone accompanied by a shy smile comes out, looking up to his eyes, he seems to melt away once again.

“Nothing.” He laughs at your raised eyebrows. “You smoke inside now?” He teases, as he finally takes a look around.

“Steve, honey… I’m an artist and now a teacher… Yeah, I smoke inside.” You mock him a bit, and it makes the both of you try to stifle a chuckle to no success. The way your voice had said honey rings in his ears for a while.

He looks lost at the little cabin, afraid to even ask, he decides to just follow you around. You head into the little kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out a half empty bottle of white wine, a soft questioning look that is answered by a nod from him, you reach for two glasses, and you can’t help your lips from curling upwards as you see him getting a little empty glass jar and fills it up with water, letting the roses and dandelions rest there. You clink your glasses together before taking a sip, a stupid grin in both your faces. He looks around, the question evident in his expression.

“You wanna see the um… atelier?” You asks as you take another sip. He has become lost in you, and just nods as he follows you.

He’s mesmerized as soon as the light comes on. A neat mess in front of him, and your moving in the space with such grace he can’t tell what he likes better. You spinning around in your short dress or the colorfull paintings behind you.

He steps closer to you, your head slightly rested against your glass as you eye a canvas that hasn’t been finished yet, the one he presume you’ve been woring on before he came. He wasn’t wrong in that, just as he isn’t wrong in assuming that you’ve just had a revelation about it.

“Wanna tell me about it?” He asks, a whisper of a voice escaping his lips as he reclains against a wooden panel that was set up by two very unstable stools.

“S’nothing.” You mumbels as your eyebrows furrows a bit more, his silence lets you know he doesn’t believe you, though his titled head would have told you the same if you had looked at him. “Just, I thought that I was painting something else, now I see I wasn’t” You mutter, aware that it doesn’t make that much sense.

“I’m not sure I follow you, H” He says in return, wine going down his throat.

“Hold on.” You say, as you move closer to him.

His hearts beats faster for a second as he sees your decision in his eyes, confusing him in thinking that you were going to make a move, surprised when he sees you catch a small brush and the straight bottle of red paint. He watches you closely, and he can’t help himself but mutter “You’ll get your dress stained.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You smile, dropping the painton the floor, he watches closely as your hands reach over for an old overshired button up, you putt it on quickly, his mouth opens a little too much when he sees you taking the dress off, kicking it of the ground to him. “Good reflexes” You tease as he catches it on his free hand.

He’s brain can’t quiet compute the information. You look way too good right now. The look of determination on your eyes as you stare at the canvas, your tangled or maybe intricate would be a better word for the state of your bun, with flyaways framing your hair. Your legs still in the black tights, but thanks to that little wardrove change, he can now see the very beginning of your legs, and he is mesmerized for a little too long, not being able to focus on what you were actually doing, since his whole attention is set on the way you move, your presence, you.

Once you turn back to him, the roles diverse for a second. Maybe a bit more. He crouches forward, and you’re the one left starring. He had taken his jumper at some point, and he was now left with a tight grey shirt, his arms in full display, and with them so were his veins, that now appeared as he was holding the wine in one hand, and your dress in the other. Maybe what you liked best was the look of recognition on his eyes as he started at the canvas.

“Is that?”

“Yeah, you.” You finish, as he finally turns around. Even with your arms crossed against your chest, the distance between the both of you was small. If you or him made one step, not only your feet would be touching, but so will be your chest, you’d share the same air. And the electricity of the whole night seemed to be building up, your chest raising faster and faster as you looked up at him. Aware of him, close enough to see his freckles, to count them even if you fancied.

And just like if lighting had struck, he took a step forward, as soon as his glass reached the impromptu table and his body collapsed into yours, his eyes closed, waiting for your lips to touch, wich they did. Immediately, with a necessity that seemed to come from far before. His hands dropping your dress on the floor fastly as they traveled to your cheeks, pushing in closer to you, as your fingers found the back of his neck, grabbing his hair instictibly, needing him like air, or like water. A soft moan escaping your lips as he pressed harder into you, his hands travelling to your back, he needed you just as much as you needed him.

His belt was starting to bother him, and you were starting to feel the tingle between your legs, and you knew you had to stop, because if you didn’t, you would never want him to leave again.

As he pulled away you knew he had thought the same. Touching his forehead with yours as your fingers found its way to one another, intertwined.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” You agreed with him. “Stay?”

As his lips kissed the tip of your nose, you felt safe in his arms.

“I’m never leaving.” He reassured you.

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference

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hanasnx · 3 years ago

Text

"the angel in the garden."

MINORS DNI 18+

series chapter two | chapter three | chapter four WC: 5k | CHARACTERS: hayden christensen x f!reader

SUMMARY: hayden is the gardener to the grounds of the estate you reside. the wayward home for girls is meant to straighten you out, however hayden has other plans for you. NOTES: inspired by virgin territory, hayden’s character lorenzo di lamberti in virgin territory, & pride and prejudice. both movies’ settings 1400-1700 esque WARNINGS: f!reader | eventual smut | friends to lovers | mild sexism of time period | mild religious themes | y/n used

PREVIOUSLY: hayden had come across your abandoned flats and let you know to pick them up. after seeing he’d left them out for you, a part of you wondered if he’d done that to avoid seeing you. that night, your ill-timed back talk to mrs. daulta made her insist you bring the gardener his dinner, and a dread set in at the thought of seeing him. His quarters came into view, and your eyes glued to the spot he’d left your shoes from before. There was a fire going inside that you could see through the hazy windows, and you upped the steps. You couldn’t face him. You set the tray down onto the floor where he had left your flats, and you returned to the dinner hall.

“Oh, wouldn’t it be a dream?” Marguerite exclaimed as she clasped your hands. “I can’t believe Lord Devereux is throwing such a party!” Her noises of excitement delighted you, and she twirled the room. “I finally have reason to wear my favorite— you know the blue one?” Grinning from ear to ear as she fell onto the bed.

“The blue one? I was partial to the red, with the long bow on the back,” you said, sitting down opposite to her on the edge of the mattress. She glanced up at you through her brows.

“You can wear that one if you’d like,”

“I haven’t decided,”

“Oh, I’m so excited, (y/n)!” She rolled over, and crept to you on her knees so she could gather your hands in hers again, shaking them.

At mealtime, the headmaster had announced the informal ball as a test. An opportunity for the girls to show what they’d learned, socialize and hear about the world around them. It was also thought of as a reward. In the back of your mind, you suspected that this was a good time for the staff to rifle through the rooms again, check for contraband and the like, the act disguised as “tidying the rooms.”

You shared Marguerite’s enthusiasm nonetheless, encouraging her to be giddy. You laughed when she threw her arms around you and hugged you tightly.

Carriages were arriving at the front, and it was nearly time to depart for the gathering. You and your sisters had spent time preparing each other, helping get dressed and borrowing clothes. You’d enjoyed watching your sisters dance with each other to help everyone remember how to. Marguerite had been kind enough to fix your hair for you, the top half pinned up in a ponytail, cascading down the rest of your mane. Your bangs framed your face flatteringly, thanks to Marguerite’s curlers. The color of the dress was a forest green, long sleeved. The informal setting didn’t require a fancy dress code, and you liked the comfort this garment possessed. Marguerite’s baby blue dress was layered, with a white sash she’d been lended, trailing down to her feet. Her sleeves were puffed, and she scolded you every time you messed with their shape. Her hair was down, and curled in perfect circlets.

Your fear that your bedroom would be rifled through, caused you to collect Hayden’s clothes from underneath your mattress. The commotion distracted your peers— including your roommate— from noticing you slip outside to the gardener’s quarters. Twilight was upon you, and you had yet to tell if the gardener was home so you intended to leave them at the door like you’d done the dinner tray, and he’d done your shoes. You knelt, and before your hands released the pile, Hayden opened the door.

It startled you, and you jumped up. Wide eyes met his, which were scanning your frame.

“I saw you walk up,” he said, and you heard a breathlessness in his voice.

“Do you spy on me, gardener?”

“It was a coincidence.” he insisted, twitching in a minute shrug. “I suppose you were the one that left my tray at the door. By the time I noticed, it was cold.”

You hadn’t meant that to happen. “I apologize.”

“You could’ve knocked.”

“I could’ve.”

“Next time, knock.” You wrinkled your nose at the demand, reminding you of how your headmaster and mistresses beat into your head to listen to a man, and to those older than you.

“I’ll do as I please, gardener,” You shoved his clothes into his abdomen, and he caught them. You turned to leave, and a hand grabbed hold of your upper arm. Curiously, you followed the grip to its owner.

His mouth opened to say something, eyes traveling over your dress and your hair, the instinct to compliment you could not leave his lips. Instead, correcting you again. “It’s Hayden,”

“I know,” You tugged your arm from his grasp and moved to step down. As though you suddenly felt self conscious over how you spoke to him, you glanced behind you, your expression softening, “Hayden,”

Regardless of the time you told him it was inappropriate to refer to him by his first name, you could do it when you were alone, if it meant saving him from that disheartened expression he wore when you called him what he was. A gardener.

Marguerite held your hand in hers, the lace glove catching on your skin uncomfortably, but you let her lead you to the front of the crowd. Those around you clapped and cheered for the line in the center of this great hall, dancing in step with the song. You didn’t know this dance, you weren’t well versed like your sisters. “Sister (y/n), isn’t it stunning?” She grinned at the settings, clasping her hands to her chest, and then grabbing hold of you to bring you to her side. “I have to find a dance partner,” She disappeared back into the throng before you even had a chance to speak. Taking in the sights, you walked. There were grand candle chandeliers, and open-aired wooden bleachers arranged for the guests to sit and mingle, somewhere to drink their wine and gossip. More civil ladies of society wore feathers in their hair, with fabrics of mixed colors in their dresses. You wondered why Marguerite didn’t wear one of hers.

The band played a merry tune, picking up the pace of the dancers, and you saw Marguerite being dragged to the floor by a willing partner, and you shared a smile with her when she made it.

Her giddiness caused you to wish you had a partner, or to have the strength to ask for one. Instead, you melted into the crowd, settling your back against the wall. Perhaps the reason for Marguerite’s outgoing nature today was because of this opportunity. It was few and far in between that parties like this occurred. It meant no difference to you.

“It’s my welcoming party and I still have wallflowers,” A voice sounded to your left, and you straightened off the surface, facing him.

“Lord Devereux,” you greeted, curtsying. He bowed to you in acknowledgement. The Lord was much older than you, with a widow’s peak shaped receding hairline. However, his smile was kind, and crows feet of age at his eyes.

“You and I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting,” He rounded you and as he viewed his surroundings, you turned with him.

“No, my Lord, we haven’t. I’m (y/n) (l/n),”

That same smile would not leave his features. “A pleasure, miss (l/n),”

You knew you should say that the pleasure was all yours, instead you stayed silent. If you were lucky he’d rejoin his party. Not that he was unpleasant to be around, you’d rather be alone with your thoughts.

“Are you to dance?”

You raised your brows at him, “No, sir, I haven’t found the right partner yet.”

He hummed, his fist meeting his chin. “That is troubling.”

“Very much so,”

You tensed as he approached you, standing to your side as he examined the specimens his party had to offer. “Him?” His hand leveled with your vision, pointing to a drunkard who swayed in his seat.

“No,”

“What about him? Does he suit you?” An officer in uniform stood positively erect, jaw held high over his peers. The look of him displeased you.

“No, sir,”

“If you approached him I bet he’d ask you to dance,” One last point to a man with red hair who gazed at the group he mingled in with a glint in his eye. You recognized it to be intrigue, and your curiosity questioned what they could be talking about to act so enthralled.

But, you could not overcome your bashfulness. “No, sir, but I thank you for your help,”

The Lord had expected you to smile by now, and he faced you, inhaling through his nose sharply. “Then all hope is truly lost.” he humored, and his expression conveyed pity. “Take care, my dear, I’m sure you’ll find your prince soon. Until then, I should like to see more of you.” A good natured pat on your shoulder, and he excused himself from the conversation. A breath of relief, and you returned to the wall, toying with the hem of your sleeve.

“You spoke with him? What was it like?” Marguerite asked in wonder. The two of you had taken refuge underneath the open-aired stands. Sitting against the wood supports with your legs propped up, you were opposite each other. The cover of darkness allowing you to spy on the guests of the party.

“He tried to find me a dance partner,” you replied, shrugging. A coy curl to your lips only added to her interest.

“Was he successful?”

“Of course not, you know how repulsive I can be.”

She giggled, nudging your knee, “Oh, stop it, (y/n),”

“He’s charming, I’ll give him that, but he couldn’t hold my attention.”

“No, I’m sure he couldn’t.” she agreed, shaking her head with a knowing smile. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to dance.”

“He’s so tall I can’t imagine he’d want to. Leap at the wrong time and the rest of his hair’d catch fire on the chandelier—“

Marguerite’s mouth fell open, and she went to cover it to muffle her surprised laughter as you snickered. However, at the familiar voice of someone else coming into ear shot, the two of you shushed the other.

“… He couldn’t have,” One of your sister’s spoke to Anastasia in disbelief, and you and Marguerite locked eyes while you eavesdropped.

“We did!” she interjected, and grinned at her companion.

“What about the Earl?”

Anastasia waved her hand, “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Both Marguerite’s and your eyes widened at each other to hear her say that. So, there really was an Earl, and she supposedly cared not for his affections.

“Still, Anastasia… the gardener?”

You looked through the stands at Anastasia. What about the gardener?

“It was just a kiss!” she defended, grabbing hold of the hands of girls on either side of her. “Besides, I didn’t even want it, really. He came onto me,” She shrugged her shoulder, releasing them to twirl in place. “Oh, but it was magical anyways…” she sighed.

Marguerite watched you cautiously. It was clear to her how your demeanor changed, how this affected you, how your smile faded. Your vision was unfaltering, staring at Anastasia as the gears in your head turned.

It shouldn’t upset you, but it did. How despairing it was to be right. The suspicions you had were confirmed. Hayden did think she was beautiful, beautiful enough to confess his feelings with a kiss. A kiss she didn’t even want. Was she to toy with him? As she’s toying with this northern Earl? Your eyebrows knit together, pivoting your head to stare at your wringing fingers in your lap. Marguerite leaned over to rest her gloved hand over yours.

The contact didn’t register with you, the conversations around you blurring together as you retreated within yourself to think. Your jealousy toward Anastasia reared its ugly head, and you still had yet to even formally meet her.

Of course he kissed her.

It drowned out Marguerite calling out to you.

The evening was over for you, and you escaped the bleachers in a hurry, hiking up your skirt so you could rush out of the building for some fresh air.

You laid in bed in your nightgown, unmoving. Mind was running a thousand miles a minute, the pit in your stomach practically painful. Marguerite had propped herself up on her elbow behind you, her nimble hand coming to stroke your hair soothingly. “You haven’t said much since the party. We can talk about anything,” she reassured you, her soft voice was barely above a whisper, and you hugged yourself tighter.

“There’s too much going on in my head.”

“You can relieve yourself by spitting some of it out,”

“I can’t,”

“You can. I can keep any secrets you have, my dear (y/n),”

“I… did something- that I wasn’t supposed to- with- the gardener,” your sentence was cracked and awkward as you struggled to gather your thoughts.

“The gardener… (y/n),” Marguerite's voice hardened, “did he kiss you too?”

You turned so you could pivot your head in her direction, “No, no of course not. Nothing like that,” Something like that.

“What then?”

You exhaled, “I can’t say, I worry you’ll get in trouble if anyone finds out what I did, or that you knew.”

She swallowed, and laid down next to you. You raised yourself to blow out the candle.

The skies were particularly gray the next day, and you neglected to return to your spot at the loft window. In that seat you had a nasty habit of watching the gardener as he tended, and you couldn’t bear to see his face.

He’d done nothing wrong, neither had your sister Anastasia— Well, she’d done nothing wrong by you. Her Earl would be a different matter. When your cruel mind involuntarily pictured their kiss, your heart lurched at what could’ve been if you weren’t such a big coward. Clutching the book tighter in your hands, your steps creaked the wood of the boardwalk as you went to the bathhouse. Hot water would relax you, clear your mind, free you from the confines you’ve placed on yourself by comparing every detail between Anastasia and you. You were exhausted, and you had done it to yourself.

You entered, the heavy wooden door echoing through the hall as you shut it, and when you turned to walk down the corridor you collided with something hard. The book dropped to the stone floor, and you regained your footing. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was…” you murmured, combing your hair out of your face to see a glistening chest in front of you. The gardener, fresh from the bathroom, held a towel over his hips. “go… going.” Those intense eyes of his stared you down, and he bent down to retrieve your book. You clenched your jaw, a lump in your throat forming at the sight of him. All day you’ve avoided exactly this. Once he’d straightened, he examined the cover.

“The Decameron? I’ve never heard of this one,” He furrowed his eyebrows at it, like he was unaware of the fact he stood in front of you barely clothed and dripping with water. You averted your gaze, and chewed your lip to save him from responding in anger: “Oh, the gardener can read?”

You flared your nostrils, and said instead, “It’s assigned reading. I’m having a terrible time with it. Now give it back.” You reached for it, but he moved it out of your way.

“Tell me about it,”

Did he exist to torment you? It was growing more difficult by the second to not take out your frustrations on him, the reminder he’d done nothing to wrong you could only rescue him from so much. “I can’t, I’m in a hurry,” You reached for it again, and he pulled it straight out behind him. You met his gaze.

“You know, I miss our little talks, like when you sat by my fire.” He was trying to get under your skin, to provoke more conversation from you, it had almost worked, forcing yourself to ignore the instinct to tell him to shut his trap. Huffing, you remained silent. “What? Now you bite your tongue? Where’s that sharp wit gone?” You channeled your exasperation into fighting him for your book back so you could move on. Rounding him, and he expertly kept it from you. When he held it over your head, you took the bait like a goat-headed ninny and jumped up for it.

“Stop this! You know we can’t talk here,”

As if to confirm your comment, one of your sisters called from down the hall. “Gardener!” The two of you turned your attentions to the noise, and his arm relaxed. While distracted, you snagged the book from his grip. The action caused him to watch you walk away from him. You hugged it to your chest to calm your nerves of the encounter.

All Hayden could think about was how you specified that you couldn’t talk here.

So far, nothing had eased your troubled mind. The bath and the altercation at the bathhouse had worsened you. He had teased you so carelessly. Did he know that you knew? How could he be so playful with you when he had kissed another? Why was he fighting for your time anyway?

Marguerite came back from fetching water. She set the pitcher and bowl at the vanity, and pinned her wild hair back. “I haven’t painted in a while, not since my watercolors were damaged, do you think if I asked the headmaster he might lend me some supplies?”

“I’d say try, but if I were you I’d expect him to assign me extra chores for it.”

She scoffed, “They’re already working me to the bone already,”

They did not treat her kinder than the others just because she was frail. “Who knows? Perhaps luck’ll smile down on you. You deserve some easy chores.”

Marguerite poured the water into the bowl. “I do, don’t I?” she agreed fondly, and cupped the liquid in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut to rinse her face with it. You slumped into the bed, propping your head up onto your palm as your fingers toyed with the sheets.

It was yet another night you anticipated to be sleepless. A movement caught your eye and you jumped up at the sight, “Oh!” Hayden’s cheeky smile greeted you from behind your window panes.

Your sudden noise had startled Marguerite and she halted, turning in your direction, water dripping from her face onto the floor. “What? What?” she asked, blind to what was happening because she couldn’t open her eyes. Rushing her back to the bowl, you fixed her hair over her shoulders.

“Nothing, sister, I scared myself,” you comforted.

“You scared me, (y/n),” she scolded, picking up where she left off rinsing her face. It was a relief she hadn’t spotted him, and the sloshing of water masked the sound of you opening the window to whisper to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m here to talk,” he replied, a mischievous grin adorning his handsome features. It jellied your legs.

You panicked, “So you came here?”

“I came to ask you to walk with me tonight,”

“I…” You glance over your shoulder to see Marguerite flicking the water off her hands, having finished washing her face. “You have to go, she’ll see you,”

Hayden raised further up the vine, and his sudden close proximity made you eye his lips. “I’ll not leave til you agree.” he promised, his voice a sultry tone that made your mouth run dry.

This man was nothing if not persistent, and your incredulous look only spurred him on.

“Fine, fine. After she falls asleep. Go,” Your hands rested atop his shoulders, urging him to climb down and he obeyed. One last flash of his smile, and you closed the windows. Marguerite was patting her face dry, and when she discarded the cloth into the bowl haphazardly, you knew she didn’t suspect anything.

You snuck out after you were sure Marguerite was sound asleep, and you spotted Hayden perched onto your beloved loft seat. At the sight of you, he pushed off, tossing an apple in his hand to catch it.

“Brought you something. A peace offering,” He handed the fruit to you, and answered your quizzical expression. “You’d given me one the other day, figured I should return the favor.” Your countenance shifted, and your fingertips brushed your mouth from the memory.

The indirect kiss. You pressed your lips together, and pocketed the apple. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Walk with me,”

The stroll was quiet. So quiet you were forced to watch your surroundings. It was a lot like the night he’d helped you, what’s more is this is what you yearned for that night. As if the moon had granted your wish, you strode alongside the gardener on route to the pond.

You could not think of what to say.

He didn’t seem to notice. You eyed him curiously, and he reflected your indifference in physicality. The need to know what was going on inside his head propelled you. “Do you ask girls to walk with you at night because you fear the dark?” you questioned, fidgeting with your fingers.

He acknowledged you, “Terrified of it. It’s the only reason I wait for daylight to work in the fields.” You scoffed, and he seemed to take pride in that. But he’d also evaded your question.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I do owe you,” you replied, hoping to drown out the silence with conversation so your mind didn’t constantly remind you of Anastasia and what she’d said about him.

“You do, don’t you?” his tone was sly as he turned, walking backwards in front of you. “You know, you’ve been unbelievably hard to track down.”

“And I’m supposed to make it easy for you?”

“It’d be considerate if you tried.”

Another scoff from you and your lips curled. “Forgive me if it’s been that difficult. I thought something as important as your interest would be in other things.” The snide comment faded his smile, brows furrowing.

“What do you mean by that?”

“From where I stand it looks like I’m not the only one you’ve invited to your private quarters,” The anger within you stirred, manifesting itself into the sentences you wrought. Hayden halted, and since he stood in your way you were forced to stop as well.

“Am I to understand your quarrel with me is based on that?”

You raised your head high, as if to seize any opportunity to look down on him. “I see no other reason why else.”

The accusation left Hayden bewildered, and the overwhelmed gardener glanced away to gather himself. “I didn’t realize you’d jump to conclusions so quickly when you’re so prone to tripping.” his statement humbled you, recalling the scene when he’d caught you staring at him, and in your distraction stumbled upon a raised board. You swallowed, opening your mouth to say something when he interrupted you. “I’m sure you’ll find your way back, (y/n). Good evening,” He nodded his head, and continued onwards to the pond without you.

Your offense was immeasurable. “Pardon me,” you spoke, bunching up your skirt so you could hasten your strides after him. “You drag me outside during the ungodly hours of the night, torment me for days, and now you bid me goodnight?” If you could see his face, you’d deduce his trick on you, his handsome grin stretched onto his lips as he didn’t slow for you.

He hid it well when he called over his shoulder, “There’s nothing further to discuss, my lady. You’re so independent I believed it an insult to ask to escort you back to your room.”

“This could not have been the subject you wished to talk with me about!” The grass was getting longer the further you traveled, brambles catching your skirt that you tugged out of its grips. “The nature of the conversation was to be my opinion of you? How vain.”

“Vain is how you pretend to know everything about me, and you haven’t asked me one question since we spent that night together.” You caught up with him, panting. Once he’d faced you, did you notice the prideful glint in his eye.

It was a vulnerable statement, one that reassessed the way you’ve been treating him so coldly. How controversial compared to the feelings within you that desired nothing other than to be close to him. The gardener had given you every opportunity, and you were so afraid of him you had iced him out.

The two of you exchanged a heated look, and you gulped. It was clear he refused to say anything else until he heard your response to his observation.

You didn’t know what he wanted to hear. What did people always want to hear? Pleasantries, compliments, good stories… You had none of those things, and the realization that you could potentially bore this companion to death arised anxiety in you.

This was the one time you felt ungrateful for being set aside a time to speak for yourself. “How have you been? Since the storm, I mean,”

Hayden raised his brows, looking through them to you. It wasn’t what he was expecting from you. “I’ve been fine, thank you. Lots of work to be done but I’ll never complain about earning good pay. How about you, (y/n)? You haven’t caught anything from the cold, I trust?”

Your mouth was dry and you shook your head. “No, of course not, thanks to you.” Had you expressed enough gratitude to him for conveniencing you then? “Thank you,” you hasted to say, the addition awkward.

The small smile you receiving in return made it worth it. “It was my pleasure,” He began to walk, slower this time. You heard your heart in your chest, idling behind him for a second.

“The pleasure is all mine,” you whispered, and came to his side to stroll alongside.

“At first I thought I had offended you, but I realized that was not the case,” he confided, side eyeing you, the grass crunching underneath his boots.

“You mean because of the lack of propriety? Changing in front of a man I barely know?” Needless to say you were amused by his notion. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“You’ve a much sharper tongue against those that have offended you.” His hands came to clasp behind his back, and the trail of the pond met your feet, guiding the pair of you.

“I daresay I’m losing my touch then,”

He laughed at your joke and it surprised you.

“No, I know I didn’t offend you.”

“What effect did you have on me then, g—“ The habit to call him his profession died, and you corrected yourself because you were alone with him. “—Hayden?”

“I think I scared you,”

It struck you, and you tensed.

He continued on, “Of course I’d noticed how afraid you were to approach me before, but it carried on even after I thought we had a perfect reason to be closer. I was confused, that you didn’t come to me more often after that.”

“You mean you expected my friendship because you did me a service?”

“I mean, I hoped for your friendship because you felt the same connection I did,” His deduction sent your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, but they were weighed down with the miserable pit inside that carried the knowledge: he had kissed Anastasia. These words should be for her. “I thought, perhaps, you were afraid that I would not be open to you so I made a great fool out of myself in hopes it’d remind you of my humanity. To draw you back to me so I could gain your trust.”

His words had fallen on your deaf ears, and when something certain shined through, you called upon that. “And what is my trust to you? What value could you have in my friendship?”

The puzzled expression he wore remained as he scratched the back of his neck. Your suspicious nature had always been hard for people to get around, and it seemed Hayden was running into the same trouble. “Do you find me repulsive?”

“Not at all,”

“Do you take joy in watching me evade your obstacles?”

“No,”

“Then,” He clapped his hands together, and grinned at you. “it’s settled! You should have no problem accepting my friendship—“ he rambled, ignoring your protests. He picked up his pace along the trail, going off of it.

“— What? Hayden—!”

“—I’ll be back tomorrow for another stroll, and wear something pretty, I have something planned for us.” He escaped, taking advantage of the environment and his exceptionally long legs to outrun you.

“‘Planned’?”

“Don’t forget! Same time tomorrow!” Near the pond is where you stayed, watching him leave you.

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