#ill be here quietly eating my fist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnaminyoons · 1 year ago

Text

!! jungkook

[ event masterlist ]

(no pairing situation)

zombie apocalypse

“hi! you need to leave. right now.”

! wc: 11.5k

! tags: half of this isn’t actually the zombie part, tlou!apocalypse, best friends to lovers, cursing, guts/gore/illness (mild)/injury (burn scarring; reader), death, guns + usa setting (am. spelling for “mom” but aus. variants elsewhere), tae speaks spanish (mex. to the best of my knowledge, sorry in advance) for no other reason except i miss my cyberpunk boy jackie welles. tae vaguely third-wheels

the day he lost you, he lost himself. the only difference was that he still walked.

"yn-hyung's eomma!" he shouts. "hello!"

it is a fine day outside. blue skies, fluffy white clouds, green lawns sprinkled with yellow daisies. there are two cars in the driveway of a two-storey house, and jungkook races upstairs, too small to reach the bannister. he holds onto the wooden bars and picks his way up the steps as fast as he can.

the woman is on the balcony. swiftly, she stamps out a cigarette and moves inside. "hello, jungkook! what are you doing here?"

he huffs as he manages to make it to the top, his parents following close behind. "i... i... brought games for hyung! to make him feel better!"

he lifts them up to show her. she smiles and giggles, stroking his hair. "that's very sweet of you, jungkook. he's in his bedroom – he's awake, but just in case, you should be quiet, okay?"

"okay, yn-hyung's eomma! bye!" he races off down the hall.

"your son is a sweetheart," she says affectionately, watching him reach up on his tip-toes to pull the door handle. jungkook's parents laugh and they move into the living space. "it's lovely to see you again. would you like some tea?"

"we'd love some," jungkook's mother says. "sorry for barging in like this. he wouldn't stop pestering us to visit so that he can 'make his friend happy'."

"oh, it's no problem at all. it's good to see our sons together. you know how my boy is." she smiles and shakes her head, pouring three cups of hot tea. "rebellious, that one. i hope yours can teach him some good things."

creeping into his hyung's dark bedroom, jungkook drops onto flat feet and pushes the door closed gently. he squints into the darkness and whispers, "hyung?"

movement; ruffling sheets; a sleepy voice. "jung... jungkook? what's going on?"

"i came to see you." he sets the game cards on your bedside table and clamber onto the bed with a huff, crawling up to you. "are you getting better?"

"i think so." you sigh. you sit up slowly. "i'm dizzy and tingly at the same time."

jungkook's little face falls. "oh." he shoots forward and his expression pinches in fright. "are you gonna die? please don't die! you're my best friend!"

you laugh, a little painfully, and clear your throat. "i'm okay. i'm not gonna die."

"oh. good." jungkook tucks his feet under himself. "can i hug you?"

"yeah. it's just a headache. it's not contagious."

jungkook darts forward and squeezes you tight. he squishes his soft cheek into your chest and snuggles into you, listening to the quick beat of your heart. "geez... you're really cold."

your arms close around his small shoulders. you bury your face into his hair. "sorry."

his huge brown eyes peek up at you and he kicks his legs with a soft sigh. "i don't like it when you're sick."

"sorry," you repeat.

after a while, he says quietly, "i brought you games. to keep you company."

"thanks, jungkook." your arms tighten around him. "i love you."

"i love you, too," he giggles. abruptly, he sits up with bright eyes. "i've got it! i'll marry you, hyung!"

"huh? why?" you ask cluelessly, watching him bounce on your bed. he lifts his fists.

"so we can be together forever! i'll protect you from everything that makes you sick. eomma says that other people made you sick, so i'll protect you from them! they will eat my fists," he says in a deep voice, puffing out his chest to mimic his action heroes.

you can't help but laugh, even though it makes your head ache. "kookie, you can't hurt other people. that's not what a good person does."

"okay," he breathes, agreeing so easily – his chest swells with the sound of your laughter. it makes frogs bounce around inside his tummy. "but i can still marry you, right?"

you roll your eyes. "no, silly. we're not grown-ups yet. we can't get married."

"yes, we can," he insists, sweet brown eyes growing wide. "i watched my parents do it! we just have to write our names, then boom, we're married! wait here, i'll get the paper."

he scrambles off of the bed, running to your bookshelf and grabbing your drawing pad. he nearly forgets the pencil, but turns back for it abruptly.

he jumps onto the bed and you hastily grab the pencil before he can hurt himself on it. he sets the pad down on your legs, grinning up at you with a smile so bright that you swear it emits sunlight.

"write your name. write it, write it," he says eagerly.

you do, slow and steady. there's a wobble in the middle from the dip between your knees, but otherwise, you're satisfied. jungkook snatches the pencil and you giggle at him.

his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth and a frown creases his brow. his handwriting is dark and shaky, and his last name is spelt wrong. still, he manages it, and you're so very proud of him – he's still in kindergarten, after all, and you know kids in your class who still use velcro shoes. jungkook, your best friend, knows how to tie his shoelaces every time.

he gestures for you to tear the page out. you oblige, pressing your hand flat against the spine of the pad, and manage to do it with minimal accidents. a few creases shade the torn edge from your grip, but it's otherwise perfect.

jungkook stares at it with big eyes, his lips parted to reveal the two white nubs of his front teeth. he takes it from your hands carefully, as if he's holding the declaration of independence, and smooths it flat on the bed. lightly, he traces a large, wonky heart around both of your names.

he lifts it triumphantly, his eyes shining. "now i can protect you forever, hyung! i won't let anything hurt you, okay? i'll be like a superhero, lasering down everything that gets in our way."

you laugh softly, eyes crinkling, and let him fall back in your arms, squeezing him tight. he's so small, with soft, tiny hands and a tiny button nose. you like to poke it to see him scrunch it up in surprise.

"thanks, kookie," you say quietly, and he hums into your shirt. "i'll protect you, too – my superhero."

—

"loser says what?"

he startles. "what?"

you laugh, loud and obnoxious, and grab him by the shoulders, peering over to see what he's got in his hands. "gotcha, stupid. what're you reading?" you slip it easily from between his fingers. "what is it? anime?"

he scowls, reaching up for it. "it's manga, and give it back, you jerk! i was just getting to the good bit."

you wave it around, dodging his grabbing hands, and flick through it backwards. "whoa! how does she even walk around with those things?"

several sets of eyes swivel around and jungkook burns under their attention, tripping out of his seat and jumping for the book. you're older than him and therefore taller, and it's not hard to keep it out of his reach. "wow, jungkook... they're huge! i didn't know you had this kind of book."

"stop being such a bully!" he hops awkwardly, stretching for the book with a quiet grunt. "people are looking, butt-wipe!"

"what's this language i'm hearing?"

both of you whip around, gazing up at a familiar face: your homeroom teacher. her brow lifts in expectation as she places her hands on her hips. she's young and pretty, and you know a few boys with weird crushes on her, but she's a lovely teacher and doesn't even mind your whiteboard pranks.

"hi, miss williams," you greet with an innocent smile, and jungkook shuffles behind you, gripping your sleeve. discreetly, you try handing the book back. "what language are you talking about?"

she lifts an open hand, expectant. "give me the book, boys."

jungkook sighs and thumps his head against your shoulder as you sheepishly hand it over. "it wasn't anything bad, miss williams. promise."

"i'll see, yn. which page were you looking at?"

you flip a couple and point. on the page is a girl, around your age, in a uniform. she carries a massive gatling gun in her hands and a barrett .50 cal is strapped to her back, taller than she is. her face is twisted in rage as she extinguishes whole waves of evil vampires.

"don’t you agree, miss williams?" you ask helpfully. "those guns are massive. i don't get how she isn't falling over."

she closes the book and returns it with an exasperated sigh. she pats your head and you scrunch up your nose, fixing your hair. she smiles. "alright, you little rascal. you win this time. just keep it down, okay? other people might be reading, too."

"yes, miss williams."

"and you, jungkook."

after a second, he peeks around your arm, glancing briefly at you before meeting her eyes. his knuckles whiten.

she smiles again, this time gentler, and bows down to be level with him. "don't let him call all of the shots. maybe you should steal his book from time to time, too."

"miss!"

jungkook nods mutely, grabbing his book back while you stare at your teacher's retreating back, betrayed and flabbergasted. you notice the emptiness in your hands and turn around. jungkook is already sitting down again, searching for his lost page. you step over the bench and watch over his shoulder. your knee and shoulder touch his.

"so," you say, a lot quieter, "what's happening in the story?"

he brightens and grins at you, flipping back to the front to show you important scenes. "so there's this really shy girl, yumiko, who was adopted after her dad died when she was a baby, and she's actually the last living carrier of a special gene that makes her tougher, faster, and stronger than normal humans! after a bunch of monsters attack the city, she finds the journal he gave her and learns all the ways to kill them, and – oh, and she knows judo and how to box because her family owns a dojo... hey, why are you looking at me like that?"

you shake your head with a sweet grin, knocking your temple against his. "no reason. if we got attacked by a bunch of monsters, would you be my hero in shining armour?"

"of course!" he says, affronted that you'd think otherwise. "i might not have a machine gun, but i'll always protect you. we're best friends, and best friends should always stick together."

—

"oi, jungkook... jungkook, are you awake?"

he cracks his eyes open blearily at the whisper of his name. "no."

"good, okay. so, i had a thought – like, what if we go to homecoming together?"

"aren't you going with hailey? helen. helena...? whatever her name is."

"hanna. and not officially." you turn over, tucking your hand under your cheek. jungkook gazes back with one sleepy eye, most of his face squished into his pillow. "we haven't asked each other, yet."

he hums tiredly. "mm. then whassername... abigail. audrey. yeah. then audrey will want you to ask her. jay will want you to ask, too. um... erika and kat – from cheer, they said. yoojin from the boys' hockey team. y'know they're going to nationals? go kingfishers."

you wiggle closer, and jungkook bats your cheek to discourage you from getting any nearer. you do it anyway with a cheeky grin, visible even in the darkness, and jungkook hugs his pillow in defeat.

"don't wanna go with them." he gives you a pointed look, and you sigh. "look, i'm sure they're all nice people. i just... don't want to go with them. i want to go with you."

"why? yoojin's kinda cute."

you huff. "he only wants to go with me so he doesn't have to speak english all the time." you narrow your eyes. "wait, he's 'kinda' cute? do you have a crush on him, jungkook? ooh... jungkookie's got a big ol' crush...!"

he snorts, pushing your face away when you start making kissy sounds. "ew, gross. i spoke to him one time."

"people have developed crushes on less," you point out smugly. "you've developed crushes on less."

he burns red and he hushes you quickly, slapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. "shut up! you'll wake my dad! i was young, okay? it didn't count."

"he had a nice smile, though. and a cute laugh. plus, he was even shorter than you – i bet that gave you a bit of an ego, didn't it?"

"i'm not short," he hisses, pouting furiously. "you're two years older than me – of course you're taller! go stuff yourself. i'm going back to sleep."

grumpily, he turns over, tugging the blankets up around his chin. you stick your cold feet directly onto his legs and giggle as he jerks and whips around, sitting up so quickly his head spins. you poke his cheek with your index finger repeatedly, still giggling like an idiot at the extent of his reaction. it felt like the entire bed shook.

"i'll bite your fingers off," he threatens, dodging blindly in the darkness. "they're like carrots. i can bite through carrots."

"yeah, you can. with those big-ass front teeth, you'd like carrots, wouldn't you?"

he lunges at you. you grunt at the impact and tackle him to the bed, locking your arms around his middle and tucking your head under his arm – just like gym class. he writhes like a snake – or, more accurately, he flails like a trapped bird, all limbs and indignant squawks.

"you're heavy," he complains, pushing your shoulders down. when that doesn't work, he reaches back for your hands, prying your fingers off of him. "get off, hyung! i need to – ugh – make you regret what you said! i'm not a freaking rabbit!"

you keep him down easily. sports is your jam, and jungkook is built like a twig. a very bony twig, but a twig nonetheless. "you know that you can swear around me, right? it's not like i'm gonna tell anyone. you know what the word 'fuck' is. you're fourteen – every fourteen-year-old knows 'shit', 'fuck', and 'damn', at the very least. the last one's only for bible-study kids, but whatever, it counts."

he hushes you, glancing instinctively at his bedroom door. "he’s gonna hear you. shut up."

"he’s miles away. he’s not gonna hear me." you grin, letting him out. he grumbles, dusting himself off and crawling back under the covers. "actually, you never answered me. do you want to go to homecoming with me, or nah?"

"no. you're just gonna run off to your friends and leave me alone by the punch table like a dumbass."

you nudge him. "hey, look at you. that's the closest you've gotten to swearing. i'm proud of you." you sit back, leaning against his headboard and gazing around his dark bedroom at the shape of familiar furniture. "and i wouldn't do that. you're way more important than those fuckers with rich parents. they only tolerate my presence because i'm irrefutably good on the team and they'd never make it off of school grounds if i left."

"bringing out the big-boy words. you're so dreamy."

"which one? 'fuckers' or 'irrefutably'?"

"the second one. your parents must be so proud. d'you think they'd be mad if i duct-taped your lips shut and then hit you in the mouth?"

you scoff, affronted. "only if you'll hit me in the mouth first, then tape it. if i end up with blood in my mouth, i'd rather not swallow it."

"eugh."

"exactly my point."

you lean back, tipping your head backwards until it touches the wall. a scattering of glow-in-the-dark stars seem to swirl and move when you stare at a certain spot for too long. "so... you wouldn't want to go to the homecoming dance with me?"

"i didn't say that," he replies.

"you did. you even said 'no'."

he tuns his face away. "well, i was obviously joking..."

your gaze snaps to his dark silhouette. "so you would? go with me, i mean?"

"duh, hyung. i want to steal all of the expensive chocolate. you promised you'd sneak me in."

you sigh, dragging a hand over your face. "i don't mean it like that, jungkook. i mean it as in... would you go to the dance with me as my date?"

he turns over his shoulder, his face drawn and sleepy. "but we're both boys."

"you didn't seem to have much of an issue about it when you said yoojin wanted to go with me. you've also exclusively had crushes on guys, jungkook. it's kinda gay, dude."

he harrumphs, turning back around and shuffling deeper into the covers. "yeah, but i thought you're supposed to go with a girl. to match your tie to her dress, or whatever. like, how would we even do the, uh... the little flowers?"

"corsages? well, we could match them to the colour of our suits," you suggest, "or get the same flowers and match that way."

"complementary colours," jungkook murmurs. "same flowers, same design, just different colours. i think that'd look nice."

you smile to yourself, shifting down until you're snuggled deep in the soft, thick linens. "yeah, i think it would."

comforting silence falls in jungkook's bedroom for a while. his breaths are soft and even, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. he might not even remember this conversation tomorrow morning – you'll have to ask him again.

"hyung?" he whispers, a gentle exhalation of breath. he sounds almost... nervous. nervous, yet curious. "you awake?"

"yeah."

"can you ask me again?"

"ask you what?"

he sighs and flips around to face you, pushing his messy hair back from his forehead. his eyes shine in the darkness, and the edge of his face is rimmed by yellow light from the hallway, seeping in through the bottom of his door. "ask me to the dance. like, properly."

you turn your head. his eyes are trained on you expectantly. "oh. uh, i didn't plan anything fancy..."

he shrugs. "it's okay. i don't mind. just ask me."

you hum, grinning at his insistence. "alright. will you, jeon jungkook, go to the homecoming dance with me as my date?"

he smiles, too. it's smaller than yours, and he's glad that it's dark in the room – his warm cheeks would do nothing to aid him. you already tease him enough as it is. "yes, hyung. i'll go to the dance with you."

he tucks his face into the crook of his elbow, shivering slightly and tightening his grip on his pillow. you notice and shuffle closer. he leans into you, resting his face against your neck, and folds his arms around your waist. you throw an arm over his shoulders and tangle your legs together, squeezing him tightly as you bury your nose into his soft hair.

he smells like his shampoo – berry, because he said the scent made him hungry and it would encourage him to eat more and therefore grow more. you only grinned, patted his head, and told him to keep dreaming. he nearly threw the bottle at you in the store.

bang!

you both jump, bolting upright. it sounded very close – just outside.

"what was that?" jungkook's voice wavers.

"i – i don't know. did an owl hit the window?" you say uncertainly.

"big freaking owl," he whispers. he glances at you. "should we check it out? what if it's hurt?"

you nod, frowning. "you first, then, hero." you reach down for the duffel bag near the dresser and pull out a jacket, throwing it on. after a moment, jungkook follows, waiting for you by the bedroom door. you join him, and he cracks it open.

the hallway outside is lit by a single tall lamp at the end. jungkook steps out, peering into his parents' room. he glances back and shakes his head.

"dad's gone."

"maybe he went to investigate, too," you suggest, but it's weak. you heard no footsteps outside the door, and the floorboards by jungkook's room are notoriously creaky.

his hand searches for yours as you shuffle through the dark house. all of the curtains are closed, and the only light that illuminates the house are the pale lines of grey moonlight curving past the edges of blinds and the nightlights near the bathroom and kitchen. the shadows are tinged an eerie blue.

"what do we do if it's actually an animal?" jungkook murmurs. "do we call someone?"

"i guess... we'll find your dad after this."

you move towards the back of the house, where the noise came from. you push back the curtains.

an empty green backyard. the rotary clothesline spins slowly, creaking on an angle. the neighbour's dog begins to bark madly.

"i swore it came from here," you mutter. you turn. "jungkook?"

he steps out of the laundry room at the end of the hall. "i'm here. dad's not, though." he raises his voice. "dad? dad!"

in the distance, something booms, low and rumbling. you jump and jungkook runs back to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards a window. amongst the lights of the city, a pillar of fire billows into the night.

"oh, god," jungkook whispers. "i hope no one was hurt..."

"i'm sure they're alright," you reply hoarsely, struck by the colour of the flames. against the darkness, the licking flames almost look like warped, tensed hands, scratching and scrabbling for the heavens. "dad – your dad. maybe he went for your mom."

another boom rattles the windows, far closer than the last. you yank jungkook away from the window, hugging his shoulders to your chest, but the shockwave passes, and the glass steadies. slowly, you straighten, watching the fire spread to nearby buildings.

"that one's way too close for comfort," you laugh nervously, your pronounced adam's apple bobbing. "i'm gonna call my mom."

he nods rapidly. the landline sits between the kitchen and the living room, and you dial your home. your fingers drum against the table as the line rings and rings.

the line clatters. "hello?"

your heart drops back into your chest. you grip the phone. "mom! did you hear those explosions? are you okay? they're really close to jungkook's house and his dad's vanished. what's going on?"

"baby, just stay calm, okay? i need you to take care of jungkook. stay away from the windows and don't go outside. there's some sort of sickness going around and everyone's – they're not alright. wait for david and listen to him. he'll get you out of the city and we'll meet up, okay? i love you, baby – protect ju—"

the phone beeps in distress. it's dead.

the dog stops barking.

"mom?" you try, anyway. she doesn't reply. you lower the phone and your eyes flicker back to jungkook – he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing his arms.

"so?" he ventures. "what did she say?"

"i have to stay with you and your dad. we're gonna meet up when we get out of the city – she said that people are getting sick. badly."

police cars' sirens wail past the windows, and the flashing lights veer across the room's walls past the curtains.

jungkook gulps, his knuckles turning white. "sick? what kind of sick? are we sick?"

"no – no, we're not. we're okay." you squeeze his hand reassuringly. "let's go pack our stuff – mom said we have to leave the city and that your dad'll take us."

"o-okay, hyung."

in the backyard, a figure lumbers towards the siding doors behind you. jungkook squints, confused – are they hurt? do they need help?

they slam their fists against the glass with a cracked scream.

you flinch and jungkook stumbles away with a gasp. it's a young man – a familiar one, with shaggy brown hair and a bloody blue shirt.

"daniel?" jungkook stammers. he flinches as fists beat against the glass, bitten-off fingers leaving trails of wet black blood. "h-he needs help...!"

you grab his wrist and pull him away from the doors. "don't! mom said to stay inside. he might be sick!"

he screeches on the other side of the doors. he's not wearing any shoes, and his ankle is crushed and broken, twisted at an unnatural angle. he doesn't seem to care.

"what kind of sickness does that?" jungkook whispers, clutching your shirt. "rabies?"

he throws his shoulder at the glass with his arm raised by his side. his fingers point towards the glass and snap backwards against his knuckles with a sickening crack.

"leave, jungkook, we have to leave!"

"leave to where? dad's still missing!"

"i don't care where. we'll just – hide and close all the doors!"

at that moment, the side door flies open. jungkook's dad stands in the doorway, haggard and fully dressed. he staggers in, slamming the door behind him as daniel screeches – jungkook races up to him.

"dad! are you okay? you're bleeding!"

"it's not mine," he pants, grabbing jungkook by the arm and you by the shoulder. "c'mon – your mom's still in the city. we'll pick her up on the way out."

jungkook's eyes widen in realisation as david scans the porch and the street outside – dark and empty. a woman wails somewhere a few houses over. the car sits in the driveway, and david snatches the keys off of the buffet table beside the front door.

you pull open the door for jungkook and he slips in. you follow, and the engine revs and rumbles as david kicks it into motion. from around the house, daniel limps after the car with an outstretched hand, pale and black-veined. his face is contorted with empty, consuming hunger, snarling like a feral animal. he treads on the bloody stump of his broken ankle, dragging it at a right angle to his leg.

you tumble as the car pulls out of the driveway, crunching onto the loose gravel in the gutters, and fumble with the seatbelt, crossing it over jungkook's chest. his wide eyes and stiff shoulders are a clear precursor to his anxiety attacks.

you lean over, offering your hand. jungkook takes it with both of his and places it in his lap, crushing it tightly. you grip his fingers slowly, then release, over and over. his breathing steadies as he copies the rhythm.

"w-what... what if mom catches it?" he asks shakily. "she's gonna be close to everyone who's sick. will she become... like that? like daniel?"

"no," replies david, and you hear the waver in his voice as he ignores the road signs and takes the road into the city. "she won't. she's a good doctor – she'll know how to keep a patient sedated."

"he didn't have a foot but he was still chasing us, dad! i don't know if sedation will work for that kind of sickness," jungkook says in a small voice. "do you know where it came from?"

the car crests over a hill. david's blood-spattered hands shift around the wheel. "they're saying only people from the city are at risk. we're okay. how are you, yn? you holding up alright?"

"i'm fine." you glance at jungkook. "i managed to call my mom before the line went dead. she says you're going to meet up with her outside of the city. is it better outside? or is it everywhere?"

"i don't know," he sighs, pressing himself back in the seat. his crumpled dress shirt has the red imprint of a smudged hand on the shoulder. "there's no cell service and no signal anymore. before that, the alert said that there's a lockdown on the city. i think the, uh, illness is local, but i can't be certain. i just need to make sure you get to your family safely."

you nod with a swallow, sitting back. watching that man slam himself into the door... it was as if he didn't care for his body, and the way he lurched was as if he was pulled on strings. like a puppet.

the city streets burn with fires the size of buildings. the stench of rot and fear seeps into your pores. cars billow with smoke, wrapped around telephone poles. a flurry of action and reaction – people scream as pale, sickly hands tear at flesh and muscle, open maws snapping and snarling. a man begs for help, and you turn jungkook's face into your shoulder as three mouths gnaw at the stumps of his arms and leg. he screams, high and piercing, as their blunt fingers punch into his stomach, curling and pulling.

bright headlights. your eyes widen. "look out—!"

"jungkook, it's time to wake up."

pale light. the weight of a hand on his shoulder.

his eyes flutter open.

taehyung's lips tick up, a sympathetic shimmer in his eyes. "good morning. sun's out. you, um, talk in your sleep."

jungkook sits up. rolls his neck. it cracks and he winces. "so i've heard. did i annoy you?"

taehyung shakes his head, retreating as jungkook reaches for his jacket, which he'd folded beneath his head for the night. "no. i generally don't get much rest." he takes a seat on the edge of the busted couch, faded grey with age. springs poke up out of the yellow stuffing. he watches jungkook pack up his backpack and check his ammo, sliding the handgun into the back of his jeans.

"who's yn?"

jungkook's eyes flick up sharply.

taehyung folds his hands and nods, diverting his gaze. "sorry."

jungkook finishes packing up in silence. he feels it like the present – your hands on his, the uncertainty of your eyes but your reassuring smile. sometimes he still wakes up and expects to see you next to him, snoring away while his father flips pancakes in the kitchen.

"i think we should hit the mall," taehyung suggests eventually. "there might be something of value there that we can keep."

"and risk getting overrun by infected? fat chance."

taehyung flips his knife idly. "órale. but it's called risk and reward for a reason. if everyone thinks like you, the place could be a treasure trove."

jungkook shrugs on his backpack. he nods. "fine. we need medicine, anyway, and i think i saw a pharmacy in there. if i'm bitten, don't use it on me. i'll head off my own way."

taehyung's brow twitches into a frown. "okay."

ten minutes later, they find themselves in the pharmacy jungkook spotted earlier. it was full of painkillers and antibiotics, bandages and anaesthetics. it was like heaven. the security shutters had been pulled down, but the rusted locks were easy to break – the darkness inside smells stale and dry and there is no sign of the infected or their spores, which is a nice reprieve from the groaning and clicking echoing in the mall outside.

jungkook holds his breath as the twitching shadow of a clicker passes dangerously close to the entrance. the characteristic spine-tingling vocalisations freeze taehyung in place, daring not even to shift the bottle of pills halfway to his backpack.

the shadow pauses right by the shutters. it screeches. jungkook can imagine the soundwaves rippling off of the environment, bouncing back to the awful bony protrusions bursting out of the front of their skulls.

it shuffles away, clicking with each step. a bottle smashes.

a runner screams, alert, the sound shocking through the mall. the sound of a hundred infected stumbling towards the source stampedes past the pharmacy, and jungkook's eyes widen as the agile shadows flit by under the security door.

at the other end of the mall, where they entered, a man yells out – in pain or fear, jungkook doesn't know. multiple gunshots fire at once, and different voices call out in a blind panic: who made the noise? where are they coming from? they're surrounded!

then, all at once, the shouting stops. no bullets fly.

taehyung creeps towards the security door. he lowers himself to his stomach, peeking beneath the sheets of steel.

he lifts his head, meeting jungkook's gaze. he shakes his head.

jungkook releases a silent breath. fuck. they'll have to find another way out.

on the bright side, most of the infected should now be concentrated around the main entrance. the only problem? according to the deteriorating map, the mall only has two exits: one blocked by the swarm of infected, and the other below ground in the parking lot. said parking lot was flooded, and the nearest entry into it was through a massive, gaping hole in the middle of the tiled floor, where years of rainfall through the broken glass ceiling had worn away the ground into a sinkhole.

after triple-checking the store and soundproofing their bags, they slip under the shutters one at a time, taking it in turns to lift the shutters just enough to get their shoulders through. a clicker lurches out of a fashion boutique – or what was once a fashion boutique. the mannequins in the window are still dressed in stylish dresses, and the poster of a thin blonde curls off of the wall.

before the clicker can force a searching screech through its ruined vocal chords, taehyung slams his knife into the centre of its blooming fungal growth, twisting the blade until its bony fingers stop pulling at his clothes.

runners bleed. clickers do not. jungkook used to fear runners the most, hearing them sob and whimper with intact voices. he used to wonder who was crying – the fungus, or a human?

he does not wonder such things anymore.

taehyung descends into the hole in the floor, his gun in hand. his torch swivels over the dark interior, and the water is clear and has no bad scent, meaning that it could be coming from somewhere else – like an exit.

taehyung beckons jungkook down. jungkook clicks on the torch slipped into the strap of his backpack and drops over the ledge, his fingers slipping on the wet tiles. he wipes his palms on his jeans, reaching for his handgun.

his eyes flicker over the looming shadows. the reflection of their torchlight in the water keeps prying at his attention, too much like the flash of bioluminescence to ignore.

tentatively, jungkook steps into the water from the collapsed section of the mall, his gun aloft. he takes another step, and another, until the ground flattens out. the water laps around his calves, and the slushing of every movement is far too loud.

something skitters.

both flashlights whirl in its direction. near a submerged car, visible only from the top of the rusted hood upwards, the water ripples.

the parking lot must spiral down into several floors, given the height of the water on the car. there might be a way out deeper down – maybe the water comes from the nearby river.

they can't investigate. not when they're not alone.

jungkook turns over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the shadows. taehyung nods, shifting his hand on the grip of his gun, and steps into the water behind jungkook.

there are so many pillars, and a significant number of cars and corners. they move through the darkness with their weapons up. jungkook's heartbeat thuds in his veins.

in the far corner is a rusty rolling door, wide enough to fit two cars. the ground begins to incline, and jungkook prays to whatever god there may be that past the door is daylight. he turns, his boots leaving prints on the dry concrete, and scans the garage. nothing moves.

he slips his gun into his belt and crouches, leveraging his fingers under the edge of the door. taehyung glances over his shoulder as jungkook grunts softly, straining. "need help?" he mutters.

jungkook tries again, pulling until his arms begin to tremble, and huffs as he leans back, lifting his torch and scanning the top of the door. the gears are rusted shut – worse than the door itself. old fungal growth crunches in the corner and the body collapsed in the corner is a jumble of bone, far past any danger of infection.

"we're not getting out this way," he replies quietly, rising to his feet and grabbing his gun. "we need to find another exit."

"what other exit?" taehyung asks. "the map gave us two, and neither is viable."

"yeah, hold on..." jungkook wracks his brain. the cold, damp, wet silence of the lot isn't helping, and he keeps spotting movement in the corner of his eyes that vanishes when he looks over. rippling water and the flash of eyes smooth out once he squints in its direction. he worries his lower lip between his teeth.

his eyes widen. "maintenance. there might be a maintenance tunnel we could use, or some sort of back entry for stock and shipments. it wouldn't be on the map but there’s bound to be one around."

"ah, por supuesto. we'd just have to head back up for that, get lucky and find a 'staff only' door that isn't locked up, actually leads to something, and not get swarmed by those damn runners while doing it all,” he states with a sarcastic edge, his jaw taut. something slinks past his shoulder and he whips around, aiming down the sights at disturbed water. his torchlight catches the flash of a desiccated hand and the edge of a blossoming fungal flower around the corner of a pillar. a single vein of bioluminescence reflects in the water, then vanishes.

he inches back towards jungkook, his boots splashing with every shift. his eyes dart around. his grip tightens on his gun. “¡madres! i don’t think these fuckers are gonna leave us alone for much longer. they’re doing the creepy fucking thing with their heads. i‘m gonna have to start shooting soon and i don’t wanna see how many there really are.”

"we either go up, or..." jungkook's gaze swings over back the way they came, towards the submerged car. "i think i saw a door there. open. how much to bet that it's our maintenance tunnel?"

taehyung's eyes follow his. his shoulders slump. "we're gonna have to swim...?"

shrugging, jungkook steps in front of him and licks his lips. he reaches up, pulling his dark curls to the back of his head. "you'd rather deal with clickers, runners, and hunters – or stalkers?"

taehyung's lips tighten. after a beat, he trails after jungkook. "i fucking hate this..."

swimming is the easy part, even when the water exceeds the height of the doors. the hard part becomes evident once they find solid ground.

the stench assaults jungkook's senses. his eyes water from the stink of decay, like overripe fruit and something far worse. he covers his nose and mouth, but nothing blocks the foul odour of cadaverine in a hallway of fresh, rotting bodies.

there are no flies – most of the damage seems to have come from the rats that squeak and disappear into nooks and crannies the moment that torchlight shines on their fat little bodies. behind him, taehyung retches, coughing and leaning heavily against the damp wall.

jungkook inspects the bodies. some lay face-down as if they'd fallen while running. others sit up against the walls, a variety of rifles, machetes, and bats scattered near their hands. the grey skin seems to have sunken closer to the bone as if the muscles beneath had been sucked out. several chests have been torn open to reveal half-eaten innards.

jeans, jackets, hats. civilians. hunters, most likely, based on the size of the group.

without a word, jungkook grabs taehyung's arm and pulls him through the bodies lining the curving hallway. they begin to thin out once jungkook makes a few twists and turns, and the maze-like tunnels all look the same. jungkook only stops once he can open his mouth without gagging.

taehyung looks ill. his face is pale under the beam of the torch.

"that was a massacre," jungkook says. "it wasn't starvation – or thirst."

taehyung nods unsteadily. "there were so many... so many bodies."

"they were hunters, taehyung. they were bad people."

taehyung glances back the way they came. "i guess so..."

jungkook takes his arm again, leading the way as he searches for something to tell him where they are. the walls are slick with algae, and some tunnels have collapsed with the weight of the water. jungkook knows they're getting somewhere when the sound of trickling water begins to fade.

at last, after several inclines, a set of steps, and several ducks through broken walls, the walls begin to dry, and the air smells fresher. hope sparks in his chest and taehyung feels it, too, hurrying forward in front of jungkook.

they turn a corner. the tunnel opens up into a dead end.

jungkook sighs, turning back to retrace their steps and try another route. but taehyung, ever the optimist, surges forward and inspects the walls closely, pressing his hands to the cold concrete. he squints upwards, following a series of rusted copper pipes.

"hey, jungkook."

he pauses. "what?"

"i think there's an opening up here, but i can't reach it. can you boost me?"

"an opening?" he doubles back. "where?"

taehyung points. over a shallow ledge, a darker section of shadow retreats into the wall. "boost me up, brother."

jungkook laces his fingers together and braces against the wall. taehyung isn't heavy, but he's still soaked thoroughly, and the wet slide of denim makes jungkook grimace. taehyung feels it, cursing in spanish as he shuffles along the narrow ledge.

he slides off his backpack. "hey, hold my bag. i need the space. be careful with that – it’s my baby."

“damn, i’ll catch it, alright? no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“será mejor que sí,” taehyung mutters to himself. his hand vanishes into the hole but stops abruptly, sliding along what seems like a wall – until he gives a hard shove, and the wall creaks and gives way.

taehyung's face scrunches as he presses both hands against it, managing to shove his arms around the corner. he pulls, and it slides with a scrape.

pale light sneaks through the gap.

"hey, we're getting somewhere," taehyung pants, shaking out his hands as he draws them back through the hole. "catch me if i fall, okay? this pretty face deserves to live."

he grips the edge of the ledge and drops his body over it, then swings his legs up on his other side. he sits up, hooking his hands around the edges of the hole he'd cleared, and pushes his weight against his feet, planted firmly on the blockage. slowly but surely, it gives, and with a final grunt of effort, taehyung creates a gap large enough to squeeze through.

"et voilà, or whatever," he laughs breathlessly. "gimme my bag. my gun's in it."

he snatches it out of the air, hugging it to his chest and sighing in relief. "thank god, you're safe. my precious baby. if anyone steals you, i’ll unleash hell on ‘em."

he stuffs it through the gap and follows it, slipping most of his body through but turning onto his stomach halfway through. he lowers a hand. "i hope you're not as heavy as you look, ese. otherwise, i might have to leave you behind."

"like hell you will," jungkook scoffs, stepping back for a run-up and catching his hand. "get out of the way and shove that thing a little more."

"yeah, yeah." he disappears, and now that jungkook's close, he can tell that it's wood – some sort of cupboard or drawer. "ugh, heavy piece of shit... can you fit your ass through that?"

"i think so."

for once in his life, he's right. he blinks, his eyes adjusting to the light, and notices he's in an apartment: old, stained, but dry and clean. the kitchen is full of food supplies, plus a camping stove – jungkook pulls out his gun.

"check the bathroom. i'll take the bedroom," taehyung mutters, following jungkook's lead.

the bathroom has been modified, jungkook notices. a tank of water rests on a few sturdy planks, its tap facing down into the shower, and an empty bucket sits under it. the mirror above the sink is cracked and dirty at the seams, but wiped down enough to see his reflection for the first time in a week.

dirt, mud, and old blood stain his clothes. his skin, golden-brown, looks surprisingly clean – that dip in the parking garage did wonders. the only thing he has to worry about now is the potential for worms that eat his eyeballs.

he exits the bathroom at the same time taehyung returns with a fresh outfit, rubbing down his hair furiously with a t-shirt. the clothes are too large – his raised arms reveal his thin hips and the tight belt he has to use on the jeans. he'd been skin and bones when they first crossed each other's paths, and jungkook didn't want to ask why.

"there're enough for you, too," he says when he spots jungkook, "in the wardrobe. i took dibs on the leather jacket; i hope you don't mind."

"it better not smell like corpses," jungkook replies wryly, peeking into the bedroom. it's small, with a bed and a cabinet. the cabinet has the distinctive shape of the bottom of a television printed into its wood from the sun.

he opens the wardrobe, not expecting much. it's hard to find practical clothes that fit, and every year, it's even harder – not just the search, either. he remembers finding tiny onesies displayed at a memorial altar in a dirty, peach-coloured bedroom, with a faded mobile swinging above a crib. the candles were long dead, and the shattered photo frame of a woman and a little, pink-faced newborn sat central to it all.

he shakes his head, pulling on his still-damp boots. no time to think about that kind of thing.

"we're close to a q-z, did you know?" taehyung comments when jungkook emerges, dressed in a hoodie and a thick flannel jacket. he gazes out of the window, one leg swinging absently. "right there. you can see the lights."

"you can head there if you like. no idea if they won't just kill you on sight, but once you're in, the soldiers will do all the shooting for you."

"and fight over stupid ration cards?" taehyung clicks his tongue. "bullies and assholes, all of 'em. i'd rather get into a knife fight with a moose."

"you'd never win. do you know how fucking huge moose are?"

"no, man, it's easy. you just grab their antlers and hang on while you stick 'em in the eyes and go right for the brain."

jungkook scoffs, though it almost sounds like a laugh. taehyung quirks a smile, turning towards the quarantine zone once more. his face slackens, and he leans back against the window sill. "can we just... stay here for a while? i'm really tired, ese."

jungkook sighs. "we can't. especially not here. someone lives here, and i'm sure they won't take kindly to our presence. we'll be goldilocks, and based on the size of these clothes and how much food they have, i don't doubt that this person could take on a bear and win."

"imagine," taehyung chuckles, "you saying that, and then it is a tiny child you could punt like a football."

"yeah, there're no kids here."

they whip around, reaching for their weapons, but the man in front of them tilts his head, as if in challenge. in his hands, held low at his hip, is a military-standard twelve-gauge shotgun. he steps forward, blocking taehyung's backpack on the bench. "hi," he says without a smile. "you need to leave. right now."

"hey, carnal! ¿qué se te ofrece?" taehyung chuckles mirthlessly, eyeing his bag behind the stranger's heels. he raises his open hands. "i've got medicine. if you'll give me my shit, i'll give you a bottle of penicillin, and we'll be on our way."

jungkook tenses at taehyung's casual, almost threatening tone. the fucker has a shotgun out – it would rip through them like wet paper.

his gaze flickers between them. a shiny scar crosses the side of his face, trailing down into the collar of his jacket. "don't need it. why are you wearing my clothes?"

jungkook's heart drops like a stone. fuck! fuck fuck fuckity fuck! "let's just all relax." he lifts his hands slowly. "we're sorry for barging in. we got lost and this was the only exit we could find."

taehyung's eyes flit to the hole in the wall. he points, as if snitching on a misbehaving classmate. "did you know you had a hole there?"

the man moves the shotgun in his grasp, shifting into a more casual stance, almost friendly. jungkook closes his eyes.

they're going to die.

"i know," he says. "leads to the q-z. helps me smuggle shit in and out. you'd be amazed at the gold they'll give me for a pack of cigs."

"i would kill for a cigarette," taehyung sighs wistfully. "you wouldn't have one on hand, would you?"

the man glances between them, his tongue sliding over his front teeth. his lips twitch, nearly a smirk, and he kicks taehyung's bag back towards the bench in the kitchen. "come sit, you two. been a while since i had guests."

taehyung nudges jungkook when he moves past, keeping his hands in sight as he pulls out a chair in the kitchen. he places his palms on the table, widening his eyes emphatically at jungkook.

with a slow exhale, he obliges, taking the seat nearest to the stranger. he copies taehyung, clasping his hands loosely in front of him.

the man swings his bag off of his shoulder onto the bench, unzipping it. he sets his shotgun beside him, not taking his eyes off of them. "so, you're q-z people wanting out? still doesn't explain why you've stolen my clothes."

"we're not," jungkook replies. the man picks up a square white packet, plucking a single stick from it, and lights it with a steel lighter from the pocket of his jeans. the tip flares to life, burning bright orange, and he places it between his lips. "we're from out of town. didn't mean to get anywhere near here."

he pulls the cigarette away, exhaling a curling bloom of grey smoke. "and where did you mean to go? i'm pretty good at getting places i ain't supposed to be. i could help you."

he steps closer, extending the cigarette to taehyung. he eyes it and licks his lips nervously, but accepts it, placing it between his lips under the stranger's watchful eye. he nods, leaning back, and taehyung allows the bitterness of a fresh, proper cigarette to warm his lungs.

"just to the shopping centre nearby," jungkook explains. "we were looking for supplies, but a horde of infected cut us off. we found a tunnel and eventually ended up here."

his head tilts, and he crosses his arms. jungkook manages to retain eye contact despite his head shouting at him to submit and defer.

"you didn't happen across some hunters who were torn to pieces by a pack of clickers, did you?"

they glance at each other in alarm. jungkook's hands itch for that cigarette. "we... did. we heard it happen from the pharmacy."

the man hums. "you're not here to join the q-z, you're not here to escape the q-z, and you're not about to try to kill me for my shoes. i've made worse acquaintances. either of you fancy a can of bacon for dinner?"

"i might kill you for your shoes," taehyung butts in, taking another drag from the cigarette. "we could be hunters."

the man chuckles, and it's a surprisingly nice sound. it's melodic and warm. "hunters don't come in twos, and they certainly don't try to bargain as a first plan of action. now – bacon?"

they swap a glance, and jungkook notices the hesitance in taehyung's expression. hesitance means doubt, and doubt means that some part of him wants that bacon.

jungkook responds eventually: "sure. we'll take it." his eyes flicker again to taehyung, and he cracks his knuckles one by one to soothe his nerves. "you wouldn't be able to spare a drink, would you? my, uh, companion – he could use some water."

if he blinked, he'd have missed the slight shine in the man's eyes as he turns away. "yes, of course. here."

he tosses a water bottle taehyung's way, who catches it with the cigarette between his lips. hastily, he passes it to jungkook, barely getting all of the smoke out of his lungs before he chugs the water, sculling half of it in one breath. he pants softly, closing his eyes.

"you too, ponytail." a mug slides towards jungkook. "i don't have another bottle, but the water's safe."

he doesn't even stop to think. his paranoia lies silent at the sight of water, and it flows down his gullet before another thought passes through his mind.

it's been days since he last tasted clean water. it's the best thing in the world – better than cigarettes, better than bacon – and he feels its effects immediately, clearing his mind and making it easier to formulate his thoughts. it no longer feels like an effort to string together a sentence.

it's almost like a drug. when he comes to, he notices the man staring at him with an unreadable expression.

he reaches out. jungkook's body doesn't flinch, as if it knows, intimately and intrinsically, that he means no harm.

his callused thumb brushes a trail of water from his chin. his touch lingers, as if trying to figure him out – trying to find familiarity in the unknown.

he pulls away. "sorry. you... look like someone i knew."

it's a while before jungkook finds his voice. "oh," he whispers. he clears his throat, sitting up. "it's fine. we've all lost people we loved." he lifts his gaze, finding the stranger already looking back at him.

he seems to snap out of it, pushing himself off of the bench. he opens the cupboard and takes down a couple of cans of food, placing them on the table. "take these with you. if there's nothing else you need, you should take the north exit. patrols don't take that path and i cleared it out a few days ago, so you shouldn't encounter much for the first few miles. keep north and you should be out of the city before nightfall."

"thank you," taehyung says after a moment, glancing at jungkook when he doesn't say a word. he's staring at the man as if he's seen a ghost. "thanks for the food and water. and the cigarette." jungkook is still holding it. "we'll get out of your hair. ahem. you coming?"

his gaze snaps to taehyung's. he hurries out of the seat. "uh, right. yeah."

he extends the cigarette. the stranger takes it with a dip of his chin. he places it between his teeth, and the end burns brightly in the thin afternoon light.

as they take the front door, something buried deep and unmoveable in jungkook's psyche tugs at his will. he pauses. he turns, watching as the man puffs a perfect smoky ring into the air. it twists and curls before dissipating.

his lips part.

it slips past his teeth, your name. your name, like candied cherries – like round ice cubes, like sugary fruit jellies, a bittersweet novelty he dreams of each night.

you gaze at him with eyes of glass: eyes of stained glass, the towering panes of martyrs and patron saints – shattered, cracked with neglect and smothered by cold, grim nights.

but, when morning inevitably rises, the remnants of colour paint the pews with the glow of the sun, and jungkook is struck by every poetic, shallow, beautiful thing you have ever made him feel.

your eyes narrow, and the ashes from the butt of the cigarette flutter down to rest on the stone countertop as you stand straighter. "what'd you say?"

"jungkook," taehyung hisses through his teeth. "what are you doing?"

"that's your name," jungkook says quietly, stepping closer, "isn't it... hyung?"

your eyes flicker over his face – his eyelids, his nose, his jawline, the crease at the corner of his mouth and the soft upward tilt of the corners of his lips.

your thumb strokes the outline of his jaw, and he feels the tremble against his skin. he closes his eyes, pressing your palm to his cheek. the soft sound of your sharp inhale tugs at his heart.

"you're alive," you whisper hoarsely, raking your gaze over him, again and again, to carve his image into the back of your eyelids. the pale scar on his cheek is still there. "all this time, i – i thought—"

"it's okay, hyung," he sniffles, his eyes stinging. he throws his arms around you and you crash into each other, fingers digging painfully into each other's shoulders – flesh and bone, warm and beating. "you made it, too. we both made it. i'm so proud of us."

you close your eyes, burying your nose into his neck. he smells like sweat and effort, and his damp hair is full of grit. but he's warm and real, trembling in your arms as if you're ten years old all over again.

"my jungkook, my little jungkook," you murmur, chanting his name like a prayer, your lips pressed against his skin. you chuckle, and your eyes are damp. "not so little anymore, huh?"

he giggles wetly, his smile wobbling, and shakes his head. "'m always your kookie, hyung. 'm always your protector – i promised, didn't i?"

"you did," you exhale shakily, learning the new shape of him, where his shoulders align and where his face best fits against your neck. "my fierce little hero... i'm so glad you're home."

—

jungkook stares down at you, watching the even rise and fall of your chest with soft eyes. he cups your cheek in his palm, his lips twitching up as you lean into it unconsciously. his smile fades as he traces the outline of the burns trailing up your neck and lower jaw, ending just shy of the corner of your eye. the skin is soft and shiny, stretched with the years gone by.

he should have fought harder to stay with you.

in the corner of the room, sitting up between two cabinets, taehyung quietly refills his clips, sorting out the ammo they managed to come across. you had shared your stocks with them, and they'd been amazed at how much was stacked up in your wardrobe – apparently, trading for bullets was one of your main systems of barter.

"you should be sleeping," taehyung says, snapping the filled magazine into his handgun. he reaches for his bolt-action rifle, emptying the chamber. "i said that i'd take first watch."

"i don't feel tired," jungkook murmurs, brushing your hair from your lashes. "you can rest, if you want. i just..." he draws in a shaky breath, reaching down for your hand. he grips it, the slender tendons in his hand tensing and shifting. "i want to make sure he's alright."

taehyung speaks up: "how do you know each other? was this before... before everything went to shit?" he lifts his eyes above the rifle. “he your boyfriend?”

jungkook strokes shapes into the soft skin between your thumb and forefinger. "i've known him since before i could talk. i always loved him – but puberty makes everything weird, you know?" he chuckles to himself. "we weren't dating. not really. i was fourteen and scared of my own shadow, and i trusted the wrong people. they took me away from him and forbade i ever try to see him again, 'cause he wasn't one of us. they said they'd kill him if i tried. i thought i'd gained a family, but all i did was lose the only person i had left."

absently, he plays with your hair. touching you, feeling the warmth of your breath and the solid weight of your body, is the only way he can prove to himself that he isn't haunted by dreams of you.

"he's my everything," he whispers, his lips barely moving. his smile trembles and he lowers his head, pressing the backs of your knuckles against his lips and forehead. "my everything..."

your fingers squeeze his – gently, firmly. "don't blame yourself, hero. you did what you thought was right."

"i thought i could protect you," he sniffles. "i saw how they treated you, hyung. if – if i had a gun, if i had friends, i could get you out of there. but you were – you were hurt, i wasn't strong enough to carry you, i had no idea how to care for you... so i just... i just..."

out of the corner of your eye, the shadow of a man moves quietly out of the room. the door is no more – he moves into the kitchen, as far away from the bedroom as possible.

you hush him gently, sitting up. your knees cage his, and he feels small – tiny, young. as if everything bad will disappear if he hugs you hard enough. your lips nudge his cheek, warm and softer than he'd imagine. the scar shifts when you smile, so familiar that it aches like a bullet, but you no longer wince, no longer buckle under the pain.

he turns his face towards you like a flower to the sun. he slips his fingers around your nape, guiding your lips to his.

he's never kissed anyone before. it's never been a priority, what with all the infected chasing his guts. but, god, how he's thankful you are his first.

he's messy, awkward, bumping noses and clicking teeth. you tilt your head and pull him into you, his ear bordered by your thumb and forefinger. the lobe still has the tiny pockmark of an earring long gone – he'd been so excited, beaming with pride at the fact that he could now partake in his mother's morning ritual of choosing what silver matches which shirt.

you part, panting softly against each other's lips. the faint pale light filling the room illuminates him like a ghost – a memory, blurred around the edges.

you chuckle softly, stroking his cheek. the pad of your thumb swipes gently over his lower lip. "you really stink."

he laughs, giving your wrists a brief squeeze. "sorry. swam through shit to get here."

you lift a brow. "actual shit?"

"i fucking hope not."

you grin, taking the point of his chin between your fingers and bringing him to your lips once more. he sighs into it, fingers curling tightly in your thin grey shirt. your jacket is heavy around his shoulders, and feels kinder, warmer, than what he chose out of your wardrobe. he doesn't know why – you've certainly worn that jacket before, and he knew it belonged to you. he doesn't know why stealing things off of your back makes him feel more loved than stealing things off of your shelf.

"do you remember?" he whispers. "when we were little?"

"what about it?"

he bathes in your presence, your warmth. your hands are rough and callused, covered in scar tissue, but so are his. both of you have been through hell and back to stand where you are now. but where that is? it's together, standing in the same building, the same room, breathing the same fucked-up air that likes to carry extinction on its back.

"we promised we'd protect each other, forever and ever," he hums, linking his fingers with yours. he compares hand sizes with a soft smile. "well, i promised, at least. you might've just said it to stop me from throwing a tantrum. i'd like to keep that promise... if you'd let me."

"jungkook..."

"i know, i know," he interrupts hastily, "you don't want me to get hurt. but it's the end of the fucking world – if we're all gonna die, i'd rather die beside you than with that idiot outside. i don't even know spanish. i don't think he knows that."

"you took two years of french, you can guess," you snicker good-naturedly. "but, if you need it, i am here. here is an offer – why don't you ask the kid outside to join me and you? you seem to trust him and he's got balls of steel, talking like that to someone pointing a shotgun at their chest. i could, well, teach you my ways."

"your ways?" he tilts his head. "smuggling, you mean?"

you shrug. "it's definitely better than being a scav and surviving on moss and tree bark. if you really wanna leave – well, i won't stop you. but i'm not letting you out of my damn sight. might run off on me again."

"i won't run," he promises, placing a kiss on the curve of your throat. "and i'll only tell taehyung your offer if you can get him to stop talking like he does. he says the same phrases in spanish all the time, and i'm never closer to understanding what they mean."

you nudge his shoulder. "you call me 'hyung' all the time, hero. bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

he lets out a dismissive noise. "yeah, okay..."

"that's what i thought. now be a dear and go offer him a place to stay. you'll be in danger of getting shot at a little more, but the payoff's pretty good. i haven't had to worry about running out of ammo since i began, and quite a number of people are willing to trade their rations."

he smacks your shoulder as he stands. "so that's how you haven't yet been whittled down to a stick. you promise people the impossible."

"not impossible." you rise to your feet, following him. "i say i'll get them out of the city and i do. their survival beyond that is none of my concern."

he giggles softly, lacing your fingers together. "hard-ass. i like that in a man."

"yeah? i like a man who—"

an emphasised cough.

both of you turn. sitting on the windowsill, his boots rocking a chair back and forth on its hind legs, is taehyung. he lifts his hand to the cigarette between his lips. the end flares brightly in the dim room.

"so," he puffs through a cloud of smoke, "i take it that you've made up. or made out. both, probably." he turns towards jungkook. "you got a plan, brother? it's getting dark out."

briefly, jungkook goes over it with him. his eyes widen further with every sentence.

"smuggling? you want me to be discreet?" he asks. "that's like asking a fish to climb a tree. i don't think i can – i'm sorry. i'd just put both of you at risk."

"once upon a time, jungkook couldn't sleep without a nightlight, but now you tell me he's the one storming into flooded parking lots festering with stalkers. i'm sure i can get you to shut your mouth for an hour or two while we go trade with a couple of my people."

"we?" jungkook glances at you.

you cross your arms, lifting a shoulder. "you wanted to learn. just so happens that i have a deal lined up for later tonight with a few guys inside the q-z. it's easy," you tell them when they share a dubious glance. "i'm heading out at first light to deliver the package. consider tonight a taste of tomorrow – if you decide you want in."

"i'm with you until the end of time," jungkook murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder. "gross poetry coming from me, i know. but it's true."

you kiss his temple. he smiles into your shirt.

"ah, for fuck's sake, nos van a meter al bote," taehyung mutters. he flicks the short stump of the cigarette, drained as far as he dares, into the ashtray, stamping out the flame. "do they even arrest people anymore? or is it just a small-calibre to the head?"

you reach forward, catching the chair before it slips and falls. you right it, pushing it under the table. "i wouldn't know. i've never been arrested."

"but you've been in there, right?" taehyung gestures to the quarantine zone. "surely you've seen someone get cuffed, and not in a sexy way."

"the last time i was in one of them, i was a teenager," you say simply, "and confined to medical. you can trust me, taehyung – i've been doing this since forever. besides, would you rather die from a bullet to the brain or be torn apart by a pack of clickers?"

he mutters begrudgingly, "the former." he jumps to his feet, stretching high above his head until his back pops. "very well. you've got me. i'll be your third wheel, but promise me that any and all displays of affection will be kept private – or at least in a corner that i am not in. ¿queda claro?"

"yes, it's clear," you say, amused. "alrighty, then – grab only what you'd need to protect yourself in case we're cornered. the rest you can leave behind, and i promise that it'll be here when we return."

while taehyung empties his backpack, swapping his rifle for a fine-looking machete he'd found in your room, you take jungkook by the hands, pressing your forehead against his. he hums softly, closing his eyes.

"i've missed you like hell," he whispers, stroking the delicate skin of your inner elbow. "i feel like i can do anything, now."

"careful, hero," you chuckle, pressing your lips to his to relish in his beating, tangible solidness. "you might just burn the world to keep us warm."

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook x reader #bts x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #1k event

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leafkingofbirds · 6 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday

From the upcoming chapter of A Heavy Burden to Bear.

I have a terrible headache but I'm excited to share this little scene I've been working on, which has been soo much fun! Mild TW for language.

“Damn you, Kieran, stop,” Oleander snaps huffily. “I refuse to chase you like some runaway bride.”

Kieran feels a hand grab his elbow, stopping him. He turns and snarls at his friend. “Go back inside, the both of you. I don’t wish for company.”

“Too bad. You have it now.” Oleander’s trademark sarcasm holds an undertone of steel. “You shattered a wine glass during a toast to your consort and left a trail of ice behind you. If the Sun Court isn’t already gossiping about Jack and Ella having an affair behind your back, they will be soon. You embarrassed your court by losing control of your magic mere hours after earning it back, so you will shut up and listen.”

Kieran scowls but acquiesces, turning on them and crossing his arms. He wants to fight - to challenge Oleander to a duel of honor to show them who is prince and who is not. But Oleander is a formidable opponent, and they know Kieran’s weaknesses.

“Speak, then, before I decide to answer your insults with my fists.”

Ella didn’t follow, the bitter voice inside whispers. Because she doesn’t care.

“That would be rather uncouth of you. Jack is here to apologize. Though I don’t see how an apology is strictly warranted,” Oleander says sniffily. They roll their eyes, uncowed. “But that's his business. I am here because you seem to be making a habit of dramatically storming out of rooms lately. Seeing as Ella is currently ill-disposed to being your emotional support creature, the duty falls to me.”

“Get away from me,” Kieran growls, trying to throw Oleander’s arm off him. “I am your gods-damned prince!”

“Then fucking act like it,” Oleander snaps coldly. They release Kieran’s arm, but they know him too well to fear him, and that enrages Kieran. “You were my friend before you were my prince, so take my counsel for once in your gods-damned life. You just changed a millenia-old system of government and created an entirely new court using some heretofore-unknown mastery of the Sources of Magic. I still don’t fully understand it myself. Until you stormed out like a tantruming toddler, everyone in that room saw you as an almighty tower of strength, almost as untouchable as the Fae of old. There was awe in their eyes, Kieran. You emerged after the near-destruction of centuries-old establishments like a phoenix from flames, and you have a chance to convince everyone to see you as a paragon of power in the realm. No one now can argue that you aren’t a true Prince of Fae. You will need every ounce of that power and respect if you plan to hold onto your crown.”

Oleander’s expression takes on a rare quality: sincerity. They stab their finger back towards the palace. “Those people in there may smile and eat your food and act neutered, for now, but we are far from becoming bosom friends to the other courts. Fae politics are still in play, and you cannot give them an opening. We have survived - for now - but we have never been more vulnerable. Enemies and allies alike will crawl out of the woodwork to circle us like carrion crows, sensing us weak, and furious that you elevated a changeling as you did. Courtless Fae made hungry and desperate for magic will begin to arrive at your doorstep wondering if the crown is either strong enough to protect them or vulnerable enough to steal for themselves. More powers than you know still lurk in the darkest depths of the woods, watching and waiting for a sliver of a chance. You cannot give it to them. No matter what.”

Kieran remains silent. As a rule, Oleander knows far more than they ever choose to speak aloud. But this time, their words have a ring of dire warning that speaks of firsthand knowledge.

“What do you know that you aren’t telling me?” Kieran asks quietly.

Oleander’s dark eyes narrow. “Little more than I’ve already said, and nothing else that I dare speak aloud in open air. Rest assured, what I know is for your hearing only." Oleander looks briefly at Jack. “No offense, my lord. But we can’t discount the fact that there are certainly those amongst the other courts who do not forget their grudges so easily.”

Jack looks surprised, then mutters, "None taken."

"As friendly as we currently are with the heads of the other courts, not all of their followers necessarily share our current amiability. You once charged me to instruct Ella in this very thing, Kieran. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you that as we speak, songs are being written and legends will be told about this night. All eyes are upon you, watching and waiting for what you do next. When these tales are re-told in far reaches of your realm, make sure you are remembered favorably.”

Kieran wants to bite back that he doesn’t give a single fuck about politics or how he’s remembered. But as Oleander glares at him, he’s reminded…Oleander knows things that Kieran doesn't.

The crown, again, must come above all. He doesn’t have the luxury of showing his true emotions.

Before, he could do that only with Ella. Now he could not do it at all.

“We are far from being out of the woods, Kieran. If you haven’t noticed, the Moon Court is still vastly outnumbered,” Oleander continues unabated. “You will be Ruler of All Fae again in a matter of weeks, and you must conduct yourself like one, if you hope to sway any of the remaining exiled Fae to return to your court. I personally know of at least a dozen who have yet to show their faces, and I’m sure there are a few hundred more living out there in hiding. You have given us hope, but our court is still in danger. I understand this situation with Ella has been difficult, but at least she is still alive, and–”

Kieran points an accusatory finger at Jack. “Not according to him.”

Jack looks surprised, then he scowls too. “I…spoke clumsily. I’m not so practiced at giving speeches as some."

“Who would have guessed?” Oleander says sarcastically. “I’m sure there’s a veritable mountain of unresolved drama between the two of you, but I don’t care. You’re leaders of Fae. Figure out how to conduct yourselves and get along, or there’ll be no hope at all for the rest of us.”

Kieran and Jack gape at Oleander in silence.

“Now, I’ll try to mitigate the damage that embarrassing display just cost our reputation,” Oleander snaps. “While you two learn to make nice like good little boys.”

Oleander arches a brow, tugs their waistcoat, and turns on their heel to return to the ballroom.

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crookedherringcolorclod · 4 months ago

Text

Running Off to Tiffany’s, Where Else? (Akemi’s Bi One Shot!)

A/N: Well.. This also took quite longer than I thought. Kinda hard trying to stay on schedule, but ill try my best to make Amaya’s for the finale before returning to school!)

“You have no idea where we’re going, don’t you?”

Ayato turns his head to face the blonde vampire behind him, “Shut it, Hothead! Yours Truly knows where he’s going. I know that place is around here somewhere” he grumbles, his gaze darting around the unfamiliar buildings towering over the group trailing behind him. “And might I ask how you were able to locate this place in such a short timeframe?” Reiji sighs, pushing his glasses back to his face, “We have just landed here in America and we just left our luggage in the hotel our father booked for us, how can you be so sure that you of all people know where you’re going?” Reiji presses on, listing down his every counter to break the redheaded vampire’s defenses.

Kanato grumbled, his lavender eyes heavy and deprived of rest looking over his beloved stuffed bear. “That’s right, we haven’t even found anywhere we can eat, haven’t we, Teddy?” One of Kanato’s triplet brothers smiles at him, patting his back as he tilts his fedora-adorned head to his, “That’s right Ayato-kun, everyone is getting tired, you know. If this keeps on, we might have to drag Shu by the leg.” Laito laughed, nodding his head at the blonde man dragging his loafers against the concrete.

“Can it already! It has to be around here!” Ayato proclaimed, puffing his chest.

The sun sets to make way for the night as street lights flicker on to light the path.

Yet the group pays no mind to them.

“Haaah, how troublesome. Why did we even follow him?” Shu yawns, running his hand through his blonde locks, tousling them away from his face, “Don’t you usually have some itinerary for trips like this?” he asks Asa, looking over his shoulder as she trails behind the group, noticing her brows have furrowed deeper than he would have thought it would.

Shu raises a blonde brow at her, almost in disbelief.

“You don’t know as much as that kid?” Shu mumbles quietly enough for Ayato not to hear his insult under his breath, knowing that the redhead wouldn’t stop arguing with him if he did. Asa’s gaze shifts to him and shakes her head in response. “I didn’t have enough time to familiarize myself with the place.” She sighs, her eyes inspecting the buildings towering over them, growing more puzzled with every step she takes. “I don’t know where even going to begin with…”

Amaya could feel her jaw grow slack at her sister’s confession, unable to comprehend the fact Asa of all people could come unprepared, “Wait, so none of us know where we’re going?” she groans, attempting to muffle her complaint by pressing her mouth against her blazer. “Now, now, everyone, I’m sure we might run in somewhere nice.” Laito raises his hands up to lighten the mood, Kanato shoots him a look, clearly unimpressed at his attempt.

“Tch just shut up already, pervert,” Subaru speaks up, shoving his hands deep into his jacket, crinkling the fabric inside with his fists. “We’re fucking starving, can’t you get that through your head already?” He continues, stomping his boots towards Ayato, glaring at him all the while. “Hah?! You got something to say Subaru? Let’s see you take us to a coffin shop if you’re so eager!” Ayato snaps their only map crumpling in his hands. Akemi grabs the youngest by the arm, halting him, “Subaru, not now.” She insists sternly, her voice strained slightly, “We’re still in public, so please-“

Reiji puts himself between his brothers, “That would be quite enough, both of you.” He interjects firmly, “Your quarreling will get us nowhere at this point, have you no shame?” He continues, tutting over his brothers’ manners, stretching his hand towards Ayato, “Hand over the map now, Ayato, I believe that I must be the one who should be handling the directions-“

In a dramatic gesture, Amaya points at the red-headed culprit responsible for their troubles. “Ugh, I knew one of us should have stopped you from dragging us around!” She exclaimed. Asa swats her youngest sister gently, dreading the domino effect she might have unintentionally caused.

“Shut up, shut up, JUST SHUT UP!” Kanato wails, fat tears dripping down his face, his blunt nails scratching at the fabric of his stuffed bear, “We’ve been walking for hours already and my feet hurt.” Kanato continues to sob, much to the group’s dismay as the purple-haired vampire’s tantrums grew louder, catching a few eyes from people passing by.

Asa sighs at their predicament, pinching the skin between her brow “Kanato is right, we are lost.” She says matter of factly, gesturing towards Ayato with her hand, “Please give the map to me, I can try to retrace our steps to see if we can go back to the hotel to bring your brother back to rest. We can try finding the place you want to go tomorrow.” Asa insists. Ayato, clutches the map tighter in his hands, “Shut up, Ghost Eyes! Yours Truly can handle a map by himself.” He protests, twisting his arm from Asa’s grasp, “Yours Truly knows we’re getting closer, I can feel it-“

Subaru grits his teeth in anger, “Stop acting like you know shit, asshole!” He paces his way to the red-haired vampires, tugging on the end of the map, “Just give it to her already!” the youngest yells, yanking at the map. “Like I’ll ever take orders from you!” Ayato snaps back, refusing to budge. Amaya’s eyes widened at the scene before her, “Wait, both of you! Be careful with the-“

RIIIIIIP

Silence rips the air around them as the pieces of paper flutter in the wind.

“Pah, now we’re really done for now.” Laito claims, tipping his fedora away from his emerald eyes at the mess before him, “Ayato-kun, you were too rough with it.” He adds, shaking his head in disappointment. “You fools…” Reiji whispers fervently, hands shaking, “That was the only map we had and you destroyed it!” Ayato scoffs, kicking the pavement, sending bits of paper to fly up, “Don’t look at me, blame Subaru for yanking too hard.”

“WHY YOU-“

“I can ask a local for directions.”

The brewing argument between the group of vampires came to a halt as they turned their heads at Akemi, her hand raised to get their attention.

Reiji clears his throat, pushing his glasses up, regaining his composure at last, “And how would you do such a thing, Akemi?”

“Asking around. It won't hurt.” Akemi waves her hand, gesturing to a much busier street, bustling with people chattering loud enough for the vampires to hear a mile away. “If that’s your plan I can talk instead, Akemi,” Asa suggests, offering a helping hand to her sister. “But I can do it, you taught me English good enough.” Akemi declines, surprising her older sister.

Confused, Asa presses on, “What exactly are you planning to do?” She asks insistently, clasping Akemi’s hand, who never replies and only smiles at her.

That same. Practiced. Smile.

No…

She wouldn’t…

Asa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You’re doing that again, aren’t you?”

“Well, I won’t go too far, if that helps ease your mind. Akemi grins, slipping out of Asa’s grasp to walk down the busy street ahead in its bright lights and delicious aromas of perfumes and colognes. “After all, it doesn’t take a lot for me to wring any man dry.” she laughs to herself, her heels clicking further away from the group.

“I’ll be back! Don’t miss me too much.”

Akemi’s black skirt flutters with the breeze, her eyes dart from person to person, tapping her gloved hand to her lips in thought. Who should she approach? She asks this question herself, scanning the crowd with wonder at the cuts and silhouettes of garments of the times, draped on different figures, creating different shapes and in different sizes.

Ignoring the whispers and looks she gets, Akemi tucks her golden curl behind her ear, straightening her blue trench coat as she observes the crowd.

The blonde vampire attempts to hide her frown in front of the pickings laid before her. Most men looked well off, yes, but accompanied by either a lover or wife, arms linked together and golden bands on their fingers here and there. Akemi rolled her eyes at the thought, the last thing she wanted to do was cause a tug-of-war between her and a man’s wife, pulling from different ends for his deep pockets.

In the corner of her eye, Akemi finds a man walking nearby, not too far from her. Dark blond hair, the color of toasted wheat spun into gold under the setting sun, slicked back with gel, showing the sharper features on his warm face. Fairly handsome in the classical sense, at least in Akemi’s eyes, well dressed in his beige three-piece suit which was draped over by a much darker coat.

She tuts silently at the man’s choice of a color palette, craning her neck to inspect his left wrist to find a watch, subtle in its luxury as it shines when he swings a freshly bought bouquet in his hands.

To show no lady is occupying his arm.

Nor a ring on his finger.

Perfect.

“Excuse me, sir?” Akemi asks, gently pressing her glowed fingers at the man’s arm, causing the man to jump slightly at her touch. His eyes widened slightly as they lay on her. As any man would have, truly. “Forgive me for the intrusion but it seems that I’m lost.” She flutters her lashes in feigning distress, pressing her hand to her blushed cheek, painted in her new rouge.

“Is that so, miss?” The man gives Akemi a polite smile, the petals from his bouquet fall to the damp pavement in a rain of soft pinks and yellows.

“Oh yes, it seems I’m not too familiar with the area and I’m feeling rather peckish.” Akemi pouts slightly, grazing her fingers to her lips, careful not to stain her gloves with practiced precision, “I’m on vacation actually to visit my pen pal after exchanging letters with her for a long time.” She lets the lie leave her lips without a pause, already planning to weave more into a web, ensuring the man into her lies.

“Quite a predicament you are in.” He nods in agreement, his eyes never leaving her face. Akemi nods solemnly, fiddling with her gloves as she tries to appear more helpless, “Silly me, I wanted to at least try one of the restaurants nearby to see if we can go there tomorrow noon.” she lies again, looking through her lashes to study his face.

The man hums to himself, deep in thought, his decently handsome face creasing in concentration. “I happen to know a good place to dine, yes.” He nods, jogging his memory before pointing her down the street. “Over there, there's a good place that serves some good food over some drinks.” Akemi looks over where his hand points to groups of people under parasols, laughing and dining over the candles lighting their silhouettes.

Akemi marvels at the sight, an uncommon sight that she seems to find herself missing whilst she resided in Japan. “The place already looks beautiful from this distance. Thank you.” she smiles at the man, clasping her hands together, bubbling with excitement and pride in herself. Ayato’s ego will definitely take a blow by the time she tells them of the cafe she found. He was all talk, after all.

He smiles in return, leaning closer to her. Akemi fights the urge to flinch. Or worse, run off on him, ignorant to what his intuitions were like a frightened deer.

She just needs to let him speak.

Let him choose his words before she’d bring hell to him.

“If you'd like, we can meet somewhere else after this?”

Her blonde brow raises in suspicion. He coughs into his hand, understanding his words, “For coffee that is.”

Akemi lets herself relax a little as she smiles coquettishly in return, “I’d be happy to take it.” His eyes widened in surprise. She gives him a mischievous smirk in return, “The coffee, that is.”

The man’s shoulders shake as he chuckles at her play of words, raising his arm to his face, hiding the flush forming on his cheeks, “Well, aren’t you something?” he remarks softly, flashing her a boyish smile. The blonde vampire turns her head away from his gaze. ‘He could lie to himself.’ Akemi thinks to herself, he can think she’s grown shy after saying something so bold as she is looking at the bouquet in his hand, contemplating who would have been gifted these flowers.

She prays it's only for a friend.

Maybe for his mother?

God forbid if it's for a lover-

“Would you like me to accompany you there?”

Akemi blinks herself back to reality, putting her mask back on, her facade, “I’ll be fine, I’m quite capable you see.”

The man was polite enough not to counter her, something Akemi appreciated. Giving her another smile, he takes a peony from his bouquet, a deeper pink in comparison to its paler counterparts. He tucks the flower into her ear, “Perhaps I can give this to you, the color flushes well to your cheeks, my dear.”

My dear.

Her blonde brow arches again at the endearment. Perplexed.

To say his small gestures were a surprise would be an understatement.

An interesting surprise she might look forward to.

She just needs to say yes to find out.

Tilting her head to the side, Akemi picked the peony from her hair, taking a whiff of the flower’s sweet scent, “You’re too kind, truly.” She bats her eyes at the man, bringing the flower close to the petals of her lips to hide a smile.

His face lights up with hidden pride, clutching the rest of his bouquet a little tighter. “Then, can we meet tomorrow? Before you meet your friend, that is.” He offers, his fingers grazing against hers, intertwining their fingers slowly until their hands meet, his grip gentle.

Akemi gave him a smile in return, raising her hand enough for him to bring it to his lips. “See you in the morning then, Sir.”

“The place looks wonderful!” Amaya whispers excitedly into Akemi’s ear, nudging her elbow against her arm. The sound of plates clattering together mixes with the idle chatter with the clinking of ceramic cups and silverware as the Sakamakis settle down in their seats. “Hmm, should we just get our drinks by now?” Amaya asks, squinting her eyes at the small print of the menu, a frown on her lips, “I don’t get most of these names here, all these special but they don’t tell us what’s inside that makes them so special. I can't find any pictures.” Akemi lets out a quiet laugh, amused by her sister questioning American cuisine.

“Perhaps we won’t know what we’re eating until it’s too late.” Akemi joked.

“Well that’s funny, you see,” Amaya turns to Akemi, adjusting the inky stands falling on her face, “I was reading a novel Uncle gave me, for education purposes he said, and get this.” She leans towards her sister's ear, gesturing for her to come closer.

“They encase cooked fish and vegetables in gelatin-“

“Ahem.”

Across the table, Asa coughs into her fist, catching both of her sister’s attention. “We can save that conversation for later, alright?” Asa gives her sisters a small smile, “It would be rude to… discuss this in public.” She gestures to the humans behind her, laughing over their meals, who were none the wiser to their gossip.

Reiji hums in agreement, his tea folding in amber waves in the ceramic as he stirs. “Hmm, I suppose this place is adequate enough.” He notes to himself, taking a sip from his drink. The man winces at the taste, its sweetness a far cry from the earthy tone he’s accustomed to. “…I suppose.” He lightly coughs out, ruby-red eyes inspecting the supposed sugary concoction in his hand with a certain disdain. Shu snickers quietly out of Reiji’s reach, rolling his head away from the live band singing from inside the restaurant, drifting off to sleep.

“Fufu, I do have to hand it to Relio, that man of yours does have wonderful tastes in the atmosphere.” Laito chuckles, his fingers tracing his rosy thin lips, “What a shame, he might have wanted to have you over dinner.” He sighs to himself, lost to his fantasies, a rosy blush blooming on his porcelain face ”Just imagining the two sounds quite exciting, don’t you think, Subaru-kun?” He asks the youngest next to him who only gave him a sneer and turned his head in annoyance, dragging his chair further away from the fedora-clad vampire.

“Pfft, who would have thought you were that easy.”

Akemi raises her head to Ayato, her deep sapphire eyes narrowed, “Excuse me?”

Scoffing in her direction, Ayato tilted his head up, looking down on the blonde vampire across him, “You heard me, how much are you planning on getting from his pockets till you leave him high and dry?” He snorts at the thought, his ego flaring up. “Sounds like something you would have done for less.”

“Watch your words, Ayato.” Asa scolds coldly.

The blonde remained unfazed, playing with a loose strand of blonde hair from her bun, she gave him a saccharine smile, “I never needed to go that far, is that what you’re insinuating, Ayato.” Akemi chuckles, her fingers playing with the rim of her glass, “Especially when those men are as airheaded as you. All high and mighty.” She tuts mockingly.

“Hah, you think you’re better than me, bitch?” Ayato barks back. He slams his hands down the table hard enough that send their utensils clattering, catching other customers’ attention.

“No, but I am aware that it doesn’t take much for you to get excited.” Akemi states cooly, lifting herself from her seat to lean closer to him, her gaze not breaking from his green catlike glare, “So tell me, who’s really the bitch between us, hm?”

“Why you-“

“That’s enough. Both of you.”

Reiji’s sharp voice cuts into the air, halting Ayato into place before he can finish, “Good grief, can you at least behave properly in public, much less when you’re abroad?” He asks exasperatedly, pushing his glasses back crookedly. “And you,” Reiji hisses at his older brother, ruby red eyes glaring holes at his mop of golden hair, “Have you ever thought of helping, you good for nothing?” A familiar hue of sapphire blue eyes slowly opens to meet Reiji’s in reply, remaining ever apathetic. The eldest lazily nodded his head towards Amaya who could only stare at her cousin in dismay, “Change seats with me, now.“ he ordered her calmly and left Amaya no room to argue or protest as she got up from her seat, mouthing a silent apology for Akemi.

“Behave.” Shu drawls out before closing his eyes again, leaning his head onto her shoulder. Akemi only huffed in response, slumping her back into her chair, her mouth kept shut as the group’s conversation slowly ebbed itself back from the silence prior. Ayato on the other hand, resorted to grumbling to himself, rocking his chair slightly as they waited for their orders to arrive.

“Pwaah, that food was something~” Laito purrs, arching his back slightly as he relishes the autumn air. Despite how much time they have spent rounding everyone together after their meal, the night seemed to remain young and merry with many others strutting down the streets with the occasion drunkards growing in numbers, stumbling their way down from pubs.

Reiji’s nose wrinkles slightly at the sight, “It would be best if we retire early for today and cover more ground tomorrow morning.” He reasons as he inspects his pocket watch, nodding to himself. “I will be escorting Kanato back to his room to give him more time to settle in the hotel, Ayato, you will be coming with me as well,” Reiji added promptly, much to the redheaded vampire’s chagrin.

“Haah?! Like hell I will!” Ayato snapped haughtily as he pulled away, only to be pulled back by Reiji who tightened his grip further, ignoring his complaints. “I’m afraid you have done more than enough and must retire for today.” He replied coolly, tugging Ayato by the collar of his coat. “I’d much rather explore the area a bit more, actually. You can go ahead.” Akemi kindly refuses the offer, smoothing the wrinkles of her trench coat and skirt.

Subaru’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by Akemi’s choice, “You’re not going back?” He asks her, fighting the urge to take her hand and bring her back with him. “I’ll just have a drink or two somewhere, I’ll see you when I see you, okay?” Akemi smiles at him, clasping his hand in hers in reassurance. He only frowns, withdrawing his hands from hers. “Don’t go too far.” Asa prompts her as Amaya muffles a yawn in her hand, “See you in the room, Kemi. Tell me about the store we could check out tomorrow.” Akemi waved her sisters goodbye, sighing to herself when they were finally out of sight.

To her surprise, out of nine vampires in their group, three of them remain, including her.

A surprise indeed, just not a fun one.

“Well well, won’t this be fun, Relio-chan?” Laito clasped his hands together in excitement. Akemi rolled her eyes in annoyance, turning her heels away from the remaining brothers. She already had more than enough of them, thank you for asking, no need to have any more quality time with Laito of all people. “Oi, where are you going off to?” Shu calls out to the blonde vampire, his words falling on deaf ears, who only walks further and further away from him without as much as a glance back in their direction.

Laito could only pout in disappointment, raising his hand to reach for her silhouette, mimicking what anyone walking would assume a public lover’s spat. “Aww, what a shame, she didn’t want to play with us.” He tips his fedora above his emerald eyes.

“… What a pain.” Shu sighs as he pushes himself to drag his legs to move despite his own body’s protests. “Eh? You’re really going after her? Quite rare for you to be so active.” Laito asks, trailing behind the eldest in pursuit. The eldest doesn’t bother giving him a reply immediately as he brushes his shoulders with stranger after stranger.

“Move,” Shu told them, not bothering to look back at the people who he brushed past and offended, his brow furrowing deeper at his surroundings changing from the luxury displayed before him into something more subtle behind a thin veil of cigarette smoke and alcohol. “Oh my, I thought you were worried for our dear Relio, why come here?” Laito giggles to himself, the familiar sweet scent of perfume and lipstick pleasant to his senses with the promise of long nights and pleasure, “She’s here. Can’t you smell her?” Shu drawls lazily, eying the brightly colored signs flickering into the night so often it’s giving him a migraine.

Laito brings a finger to his lips, “Now don’t blame me, none of us would have thought she’d walk back to these places again.” He points out as they step inside a dimly lit bar bathed in red light, rather fitting for the two vampires as they search for their kin.

And lo and behold, there she was, lounging by a chair, cocktail in hand.

“There you are~” Laito cheers, his arms wrapping around Akemi’s shoulders who only shrugged his hands off of her. “So this is what you meant by getting a drink?” Shu asks her pointedly, pulling a chair for him to sit by her right with Laito following suit, sitting at her left.

Grimacing at the brothers’ close proximity, Akemi directs her gaze toward her glass, running her finger around its rim, “Is it so wrong I want to have time to myself?” She ponders loud enough for both of them to hear, taking another sip of her drink, relishing the burning sensation sitting in her throat. “Is it wrong to leave without telling us where you’re going? Use your head of yours.” Shu flicks Akemi’s forehead, causing her to let out a quiet yelp before swatting his hand away.

“Fine, fine, I’ll finish this quickly.” Akemi sighs exasperatedly, attempting to take a larger gulp but failing. “Merde, I ordered two of this… ” she cursed to herself, swirling her glass in to inspect the deep red liquid inside shine a ruby red. “Go on, have at it, I’ll get my second drink.” She urges, handing the drink to her left. “Fufu, how can I refuse such an offer? I’m sure it tastes- Mmmgh???!!” Laito chokes on the dark liquid, coughing it into his sleeve as Akemi giggles at his expense. “Don’t cough on my dress, you dolt.” She tuts with feigned sweetness, her woods cutting deep with faintly hidden disdain.

Shu could only sigh at the two of them, his eyes growing heavy once more under the dim blood-red lights “How bothersome, hand it over to me.” He lays his hand down, his palm outstretched. “They call it a Manhattan. It looked pretty.” Shu couldn’t help but let out a fond chuckle at his cousin’s choices of drinks, “That’s what convinced you to get it?” Akemi only wrinkled her nose at him childishly in reply before leaving him and Laito behind, taking the cocktail pick in hand, and placing it between her lips. Nevertheless, he let himself take an experimental sip from her drink to be greeted with a strong bitter taste on his tongue, leaving him with a sweet aftertaste that left as quickly as it came.

“Hm, not bad…” Shu comments to himself.

Under the warm lights of the club, Akemi carefully makes her way back to the bar, mindful of the fabric of the dress she wears and the stares that follow her. “Excuse me, may I have my other Manhattan to go?” She asks politely, gaining a smile in return from the bartender. “Certainly, young miss.” he winks in Akemi’s direction, finally turning his eyes away from her, letting her relax to the sound of glass clinking against metal as the jazz band plays behind her.

“Is this seat taken?” A honeyed voice calls out to the blonde vampire, taking her aback. Akemi’s eyes are greeted at the sight of another lady about her age, a bit older perhaps? Her chocolate brown hair pinned back in a braided updo framing the delicate features that make up her face in the center.

Akemi shakes her head in response, “Please, have a seat, I insist.” She mentions the seat next to her. The lady nods gratefully, raising herself to the high chair whilst giggling to herself when Akemi extends her gloved hand towards her, “You’re too kind, really, darling.” The woman thanks profusely, brushing the few stray strands back into place before taking her hands in hers.

Pretty, Akemi’s mind betrays her before she can shake the thought away from her head. “No need for thanks, perhaps your name would suffice?” The vampire jokes lightly, her voice carrying a gentle lilt. “Lisa, my name’s Lisa.” The human laughs in return, amused.

“My name’s Audrey.” Akemi lies.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She adds, the first truth for the night.

The vampire tilts her head to the side, popping the cocktail cherry into her mouth to keep herself busy whilst her new friend of sorts takes her order. “So what brings you here? I’ve never seen your face before.” Lisa asks resting her face against her cheek, “And your eyes are so blue.” She remarks curiously, taking in Akemi’s appearance.

“Vacation. I’m here with my brother and my two sisters from England” Akemi lies easily as she adjusts her gloves back to her arms, “It has been wonderful so far, a different change of pace for me.”

Lisa’s eyes seemed to light up from the answers Akemi gave her, “I’ve never been abroad before, where have you gone?” she asked, leaning closer towards the vampire who was taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m… not sure I can list them all?” Akemi chuckles, sparing a bartender a nod when he finally handed her Manhattan to her, with two brandied cherries and all.

“We have all night to talk over drinks,” Lisa suggests, smiling shyly as she gestures at her drink.

“… I suppose.” Akemi finally relents, taking her first sip of her new drink.

Much to Akemi’s surprise, she’s… enjoying the lady’s, no, Lisa’s companionship and their conversation that seems to go by so quickly, the ice in their glasses slowly melting and mixing into their drinks. Their only way to even tell the time.

However, like many banquets hosted in the past, they must end.

“You have to go, don’t you?” Lisa asks, her hands fiddling with her glass with a disappointed look on her face. “It’s getting late, my brother would worry.” Akemi lies again as she slowly gets up from her seat. “Thank you for your company, truly.” the vampire finds herself smiling at her, genuinely, taking the last brandied cherry between her fingers in a precise manner.

Yet she never would have predicted what the human did next.

How could anyone foresee that Lisa would lean closer, taking her cherry in her mouth?

Akemi could only blink in her surprise, frozen in place as the pick left her fingertips.

“Will I see you again?” Lisa asks under her hooded eyes.

The lights must’ve been playing tricks with her eyes.

It had to be.

Why else would Lisa’s face be flushed darker under the dim lights?

Oh,

Oh-

“Oh my, isn’t this a nice surprise?” A familiar voice chirps mirthfully as Akemi can feel his arm snake around her waist. Her blood boils as she retracts her hand away from Lisa’s face quickly as if she’d scalded her from such a distance.

Fate somehow always presents her misfortunes in many forms.

“…I have to go.” Akemi grits out through her teeth, “I’m sorry.” she apologizes quickly as she bows her head. Whether she did so to hide her shame or hope for forgiveness from her new ‘friend’ was something she could not answer. Maybe she just couldn’t bear to look at her. All Akemi could focus on was walking, walking as fast as her heels could take her to the exit and never look back.

The cold wind seemed to be her only silver lining in the aftermath she had left.

“You like her too," Shu noted, finally catching Akemi's attention. "That Lisa of yours. " he drawls, cocking his head towards the door she came from.

“So what? You’re going to stone me for this or something?” Akemi snarked defensively, baring her fangs at him. "It doesn’t matter if I do, it never ends well. It never does.” She bemoans an old ache in her heart as she holds herself in her arms.

Time was cruel to her.

Times have yet to even change for the better.

And she'd unfortunately had to face the music. Even now.

“But did you want to go with him?” Shu asks, ignoring her antics.

Akemi purses her lips. “I owe him breakfast, he helped us, in case you forgot,” she answers bitterly, digging her nails into her skin, through her thin gloves.

“You’re not answering the question.” he counters back.

Silence rips through the air.

No words were said between the two vampires.

Instead, Akemi walked further away, further from anyone’s grasp.

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writernopal · 1 year ago

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Find The Word Tag

I have so many of these I'm behind on, so in the spirit of catching up, I'm combining the tags from several peeps!

@sam-glade, here

@toribookworm22, here

@oh-no-another-idea, here

@captain-kraken, here

Thank you all so much 💙

Tagging (gently): @tabswrites @void-botanist @sarahlizziewrites

Your words will be: sever, soap, signal, sip

From Sam

coin

From AASOAF 1:

“Evenin’.” I said as I pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “Ye be a sore sight at these hours.” He remarked as he puffed a cloud of smoke. “Aye, could no sleep.” He reached into a pouch at his waist, kissed his fist, and tossed a coin overboard. “Kava provide. Be ill tidin’s if a Dreamer canno find sleep.”

crane

I don't have this word, so instead, have an AASOAF fun fact! Axtapor's "pirate speak" took me about 2.5 years to develop and takes inspiration from the US Appalachian, US Southern, and Highland Scottish accents.

crack

From AASOAF 1:

“Please eat. The potatoes will become hard if you let them get cold.” Her small voice brought me to the present, and I turned to see her sitting beside me with her own humble portion of food. “Aye. Thank ye.” I replied as I picked up the cracked dish she’d plated my portion on. We began to eat quietly, and despite the meal being simple, it was somehow packed with flavor. She really was a master of the domestic craft.

creak

From AASOAF 1:

I laughed; of course, it would be something simple. “Aye, then a sweet it be. Bloody matches, where did I leave ‘em…?” Her chair creaked, and I did a double take to see her making her way toward me, a small box of matches in hand. “You left them in the pocket of your other coat…you should be more careful. I could have washed them by accident.” She admonished me softly. I cleared my throat. “Oh. Aye, thank ye.”

From Tori

belly

From AASOAF 1:

I squeezed him a little tighter, feeling a strange and new sort of satisfaction in my belly. Was this what it felt like to be free?

sway

From AASOAF 2:

I squeezed my eyes shut as it felt like the world around me began to sway uncomfortably; then I felt my stomach lurch, squeezing its meager contents up my throat and out of my mouth to land on my own shoes. The woman sighed in disgust as I fought to catch my breath and retched once more.

dark

From AASOAF 1:

I walked at a slow, numb pace down the dark and empty corridor toward his chambers. And my steps made not a sound as moved through that quiet and eerie space. I was not a large person and wore no shoes nor a great and fancy nightdress that might flutter behind me to create some sound as I went. Was this what a ghost might feel like? It must be. The thought should strike me as sad, but instead, I felt happy. How peaceful it must be to wander the world untouched and unchanged by its horrors. Simply to exist as an onlooker with the freedom to say, ‘Better you than me.’

force

From AASOAF 1:

If eyes were the window to the soul, then hands were glimpses into what forces weathered a person, not unlike looking at the rings within the stump of a fallen tree or the colorful layers of sandstone.

From Cass

eight

From AASOAF 1:

“Aye, she be. But she convinced me to jump into a well durin’ the dry season when I been a lad of eight so she be sly too.” He declared with a laugh. “How?” I asked wide-eyed. “She said wells be portals to the Kin’dom of Frogs, and I wanted to go there to see as so for myself. So I jumped into the first well I could find. Broke my leg and near scared my mother to death.” He said with a nostalgic look on his face.

ear

From AASOAF 2:

I sat up with a small gasp, the voices of the night forest filling my ears instead of his familiar one. The same tears wet my cheeks, but no matter how much I brushed them away, they wouldn’t stop falling.

empty

From AASOAF 2:

But the dreams rarely came. Instead, the times when I lay with my eyes closed became spaces of terror. I started to wish the wind would take me to the very end of the world and throw me over its edge, but it didn’t. Rather plainly, it brought me back to this place, which only seemed more wretched and empty than ever.

eager

From AASOAF 2:

I fell back into my seat abruptly as he eagerly ordered us to move up the hill. He must really not want me to change my mind about deciding to stay. And judging by his current expression and previous actions, he was rather pleased with himself. I frowned deeply now. I suddenly didn’t want to think about why.

end

From AASOAF 2:

The turning of wheels and the rhythmic creaking of an approaching carriage pushed my eyes open. I supposed it was time. I sat up with a sigh and got out of bed, slipping on a silken robe, then peered out the window with a frown to see the aforementioned vehicle coming to a stop at the end of my drive.

From Kraken

hug

From AASOAF 2:

He hugged me close as we labored towards the door, each step feeling like one taken through heavy mud with dense chains affixed to our ankles. Once inside, he struggled to shut the door, and an eerie, deafening silence met us.

comfort

From AASOAF 2:

He nodded, trying to keep his face steady. “...I nay be deservin’ of ye.” “Yes, you are.” I replied softly as I inched closer to him and gently took one of his hands into my two. He nodded and pulled me close to him, but the way he embraced me was like that of a child seeking comfort.

free

From AASOAF 2:

“So, Miss Jane, is there anything I can get you? You may ask, and I will do my best to provide.” I said, bobbing my head at her. “How do I know I can trust you?” “Because I trust you.” I replied softly, “Miss Jane, I will take whatever you tell me as unadulterated fact. So, since I believe you, you are free to also believe me. I’m rather uncomplicated, you see.”

flower

From AASOAF 1:

I sighed quietly as another knock came at the door, removed my apron, and then wiped my hands clean of pollen from my flower-arranging escapades. My skill had greatly improved at the task now that I had been doing it for a few years. I hadn’t forgotten how the first arrangement I put together was tossed straight out the window by Lady Price, claiming it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

#tag game #find the word tag #writeblr tag games #aasoaf #my writing #aasoaf 1 #aasoaf 2

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lovelaurs · 5 months ago

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Can we get some Katelyn and Jeffory domestic fluff in MCD? Maybe Jeffory taking care of Katelyn while she's sick right before he takes her job in Pikoro?

ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU

pairing : mcd katelyn & jeffory synopsis : katelyn falls ill while watching over pikoro and jeffory is sent to take over her job. but of course, the golden heart himself went straight to katelyn's quarters to take care of her first. tags : sick fic, domestic, fluff, platonic, slight romantic tension (if you squint) word count : 717 a/n : since there was no x between the names, i took this as more of a platonic request, but just in case i sprinkled a little tension at the end just for sillies! i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Katelyn couldn’t help that she felt awful.

Really, she couldn’t.

Her muscles felt heavy against the plush mattress provided by O’Khasis, unable to move around much due to the pounding sensation that rang through her head.

Her body ran hot; sweating profusely through each sheet. And yet, every time she would rip the blanket off of her, chills would run down her arms and she’d have to cover herself once more.

Honestly, she just couldn’t win with this.

Out of nowhere while patrolling Pikoro, she fell ill, having to resign to her quarters until a replacement Jury member arrived.

Luckily enough, the only Jury member close enough to take her place was Jeffory, The Golden Heart.

Oh, Jeffory.

She had been ecstatic (or as ecstatic as a sick person could be) at his arrival. Yes, he ran straight to Katelyn’s quarters without question once he heard of her falling ill.

The man truly had his priorities straight, as friends and family would always come first before his job.

He opened the door to Katelyn’s room quietly, not knowing if she was asleep or not. Jeffory closed the door silently with his boot as he held hot broth with a spoon in his hands.

He set them down on the nightstand beside her bed, before turning to pull up a chair besides her.

“You don’t have to be so quiet. You know I’m awake, right?”

Jeffory sighed, pulling along a chair to the side of her bed. “Of course it’s like you to not get proper rest while sick.” He chuckled, motioning for her to lean forward so she could eat. “I was so sure you had finally given in, but alas… Katelyn The Fire Fist is stronger than that, eh?”

Katelyn set herself upward, playfully punching Jeffory on the shoulder. “You know, if I wasn’t so incapacitated by this fever, I’d totally send you hurtling towards several hay stacks.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Jeffory sang, lifting up the bowl of soup with one hand and the spoon in the other. “Now say, ‘ahhh’.”

He motioned the spoon towards her mouth, while Katelyn frowned and furrowed her brows. “You’re joking.”

He giggled at the sight. “Come on, just eat the soup! It’ll help you get better, you know!”

Katelyn swiped away the bowl and spoon, beginning to sip on the broth herself. “I know that, genius. I’d just prefer it if you would let me eat on my own.”

After a few tiny sips, and then a bunch of large gulps, Katelyn had drained the bowl of its contents within a few moments. After handing the bowl back to Jeffory; who set it aside, Katelyn quickly fell back down onto her pillow with a sigh.

“Everything is so hot and cold… I’m dying over here!” She groaned, closing her eyes.

With that, Jeffory got up and left the room– leaving behind a very confused Katelyn.

He soon returned with a wet cloth in hand, smiling. “What? Did you really think I was going to abandon you so soon?”

Katelyn chuckled, snuggling into the blanket more. “I wish.”

Jeffory placed the wet cloth on her head, causing her to exhale softly at the cool damp cloth.

This was exactly what she needed.

As soon as he saw the satisfied smile on her face, he stood up and pushed the chair against the wall, ready to head out.

“Oh so now you’re leaving?”

“It seems like my job here is done, Ms. Fire Fist.” He grinned. “Besides, I have to take on your job, remember? I don’t want them to question my loyalty to Zane, after all.”

Katelyn groaned at that name. “That damn heir brat…” She looked over to see Jeffory snickering at the comment.

After coughing to clear his throat from laughter, he paced over to the door, opening it. “We have to do what we must, Katelyn. I hope to see you better soon.”

His eyes lingered on her form for only a moment, a feeling of comfort washing upon him as he looked upon her, before finally turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey, Jeffory!” Katelyn called out to him.

He turned back around from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Good luck out there! You’re going to need it!’

Looks like she’ll be better in no time.

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

#lovelaurs fics #lovelaurs inbox #katelyn the firefist #jeffory the golden heart #mcd katelyn #mcd jeffory #minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #katelyn x jeffory #jefflyn #if you squint

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elliewiltarwyn · 1 year ago

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FFXIV Write 2023 | Prompt #13: Check

pray check the waking sands, warrior of light

-1121 words

----

Elilgeim hesitates, her hand hovering before the door. She then thinks better of it… and simply pushes it open, then pokes her head in through the gap, to take stock of things as they stand.

Well… It appears Thancred was right about at least one thing—’tis difficult to even catch a glimpse, behind the piles of parchment and papers.

Somewhere beyond those stacks, she hears furious, soft but sharp scribbling, and she spies the top of a feather dancing behind a particularly garish letter she could swear is written in gold dust. The Syndicate, no doubt. There is no indication that the wielder of the quill has noticed her solar has been breached; Elilgeim tries to shove aside the intrusive thoughts observing how easy it would be for someone with ill intent to sneak up on her… So, as quietly as she can, she raises her closed fist to her neck and clears her throat.

The scribbles slow—but do not end, and Elilgeim hears a deep, exhausted sigh. Ah, shoot—“It’s me, Minfilia.”

Now the quill stops, and the face of the Antecedent leans around the pile with wide eyes and lips parted in shock. “O-oh!” Minfilia shakes her head rapidly and practically throws the quill to the side of her desk. “E-Elilgeim! I- I didn’t hear you—” She’s far more rattled than Elilgeim was expecting her to be; she straightens up and brushes her bangs out of her eyes, adjusts one of her hairpins to better keep the strands back, and suddenly seems very interested in straightening out and unruffling her sleeves. “My apologies! I- I am not—”

“It’s okay,” Elilgeim chuckles, pushing the door ajar some more with her shoulder and stepping in properly. “Really, take a deep breath. I have no important business, Thancred just asked me if I could check in on you.”

“Thancred? Oh…” Minfilia winces and her posture sags, laying against the back of her high chair. With her not actively attempting to project a strong, forceful image, she looks… small, back against the chair like this. It makes Elilgeim’s heart pang. “I was not actually aware he had returned from his scouting.”

“Pardon my bluntness, but… you don’t seem to be in a state to be aware of much.”

The Antecedent of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn blinks extremely slowly like an owl, then lets her head fall to the side, flush against her shoulder, as she exhales. “I cannot argue with that.”

“When was the last time you stood up from this desk and took a break?” Elilgeim asks, rubbing her teeth together in concern as she walks closer.

“‘Twas… hm. What is the time?”

“Around seven.”

“...About six bells, then.”

“By the Twelve, Minfilia, would you remember to eat if I didn’t come to check on you?”

Minfilia smiles sheepishly as she cranes her head up to meet the roegadyn’s eyes. “I do have a tendency to get wrapped up in the business of all…this.” She gestures lamely at the papers before her in particular, one of them being a half-finished letter to… ah, but I shouldn’t intrude upon her work.

“I think that’s an understatement.” Elilgeim smiles back and moves to sit on the armrest, close to where her head lies. From here, she can see the particular hairpin Minfilia had been adjusting, glinting in the low light— oh, Twelve, it’s the one I gave her. Her heart flutters with nerves. “Would you like to talk about anything, get some of these frustrations off your shoulders? Some of these requests overreaching for what they can demand of us, for instance? Crystal Brave bureaucratic bullshite that really should be Alphinaud’s responsibility?” She deploys an amused smirk. “Particularly insistent suitors?”

“Suitors?” A laugh escapes Minfilia’s throat, and Elilgeim subtly pumps her fist in triumph. “You have a most interesting idea of what sorts of missives cross this desk.”

“That isn’t a denial.”

Minfilia rolls her eyes, but the soft smile that enraptures Elilgeim so is still present. “I suppose there have been a few… propositions. All denied, of course, and some more harshly than others.” Elilgeim can’t help but feel a small wave of relief at that.

“I’d love to hear about the audacity of such obnoxious folks.” She holds her hand out, palm upturned, and waits, hoping. “How about you indulge me over some tea and coffee at Rowena’s café?”

Minfilia looks up wistfully at Elilgeim, her brilliant smile fading somewhat but a twinge of hope still present. “I…” she breathes, hesitant and nervous, her eyes briefly darting to the half-finished letter.

“The realm can wait a bell or two for her savior to rest and recuperate a little, so she can get back to the realm-saving business at full capacity.”

Minfilia arches an eyebrow and her smile turns wry. “Now that is massaging my importance overmuch.” She meets and holds Elilgeim’s gaze with her own. “We know well who the true savior of the realm is.”

“Well,” Elilgeim shrugs and smirks, “I’m really just a big stick bashing the primals and the Empire. You’re the one figuring out where and how to point the stick in the right direction.”

Minfilia sighs. “Too humble by half—and quite self-deprecating, to boot. You speak as if you are not a masterful white mage with command of the energies of the elementals.”

“And some of those energies form a really big stone stick that has bashed primals upside the head.” Elilgeim breaks into a grin. “There’s no contradiction.”

Minfilia stifles a giggle with her hand, her eyes softening with fondness as she continues to look up at Elilgeim. “My jewel from afar,” she murmurs—words that immediately rush a creeping heat up Elilgeim’s cheeks. “Ever with the witty repartee. And I confess ‘tis much more appealing than the thought of writing one more sycophantic word addressed to some of these dignitaries.”

“So is that a yes to tea and coffee?”

The Antecedent smiles warmly and finally reaches up, slipping her hand into Elilgeim’s palm. Even through her gloves, Elilgeim can feel the callouses of hard physical work long since past. “If you would allow me to speak of matters other than obnoxious suitors. I really do not think I have the patience to entertain even the thought of them outside of this solar.”

“Whatever you wish to grouse about, Minfilia, I am all ears,” Elilgeim says warmly, and she makes an ironic bow that makes Minfilia laugh once more before standing and tugging Minfilia from her chair and the weight of expectations within it. And silently, she thanks Thancred for prodding her to check on her. Whether you had ulterior motives or no with such a request… it’s always good to remind Minfilia to live.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #my fanfiction #ffxiv fanfiction #ellie's first love is minfilia. i decided that before i got to the bloody banquet. 🙃#and i once again mention elilgeim means “foreign jewel”#and add my headcanon that Eorzean scholars frequently take flowery liberties with localizations from the Roegadyn language #also also the hairpin is from set2zero's ffxivswap gift for me i love it so it's part of my canon now thank youuuu :DDD

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artsymyargentavislove · 3 years ago

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Guys, Boom!Shadow is the local cryptid...

Ok, if the Boom Universe is it's own thing separated from canon, there are no humans and no GUN...

Where did Shadow came from then?

At this point I can totally see Sonic saying: 'Idk, he just goes whenever he pleases and destroys shit up because he feels like it and it's not like anyone but us can stop him'

Imagine if Boom!Shadow is an experiment gone horribly wrong just like the original but we are left completely on the dark about it. That's the only explanation I can find for his absolutely nonsensical behavior, nonexistent social skills, his 'Angry, FIGHT ME' attitude and how eggman can easily deceive him with a shitty edited video when the original was a fucking menace that played with everyone he met like chess pieces on a board to the point he almost succeeded in his plan to destroy earth and everything in it.

Like, he's the same Shadow but there's no Gerald, no Maria and no greater purpose like curing illnesses and protecting humanity, just a creature given intelligence and thrown into the world to figure it out alone, like Frankenstein's monster but this one's half two different aliens and way too much power.

Imagine that for some reason animals don't fear him, he's an asshole to everyone else but then he has pretty birds eating from his hand, absolutely calm and quiet when around an animal he finds cute, imagine he simply can't bear to see caged animals and gets in a specially bad mood if he sees one making tricks in exchange for food (Even if they are completely healthy, happy pets), he criptically comments 'Feeling superior, aren't you? Having lesser creatures humilliate themselves for your own entertainment'.

Then the next scene have Eggman annoying him visiting his cave only to find him with a bunch of birds and a pair of squirrels all over him and the dark hedgehog absolutely unbothered, one silent glare and Eggman magically takes out a big bag of bird seeds as a peace offering, Shadow scoffs and only then he listens to whatever he has to say (QUIETLY) while feeding the birds. Eggman may know something we don't here given the a bit too familiar way he acts with Shadow through the show. (He just nonchalantly invited himself in what is meant to be someone else's house, regardles if there is no door to keep him out)

Imagine him eventually trusting Knuckles or Sonic enough to teach them how to win a bird's trust and it's the only time he doesn't immediately pick a fist fight with Sonic because he doesn't wanna disturb the animal since it's his favorite, if he gets questioned about the animal's name (As if implying it's his pet) he says his own version of 'Animals don't have names because they know themselves' (From Coraline)

(Original: Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.” There was something irritatingly self-centered about the cat, Coraline decided.)

Then who named Shadow? Himself? Or someone else?

Imagine him treated like a wild animal, chained in a cage and poked with so many needles and scalpels without anesthesia you point at him with something remotely sharp and he goes ballistic and hissing bloody murder. Taught to obey commands like a parrot and rewarding him with 'treats' he doesn't even like but absolutely refusing to acknowledge he can talk in full, comprehensible sentences and may be equally, if not even more intelligent than you want to accept because this creature exists for my own amusement, I created him so I can do whatever I please with it, Right?

Take Stick's whole conspiration theories, (Haven't seen the series in quite some time, but as far as I'm concerned she more often than not turns out to be RIGHT) Shadow-the-fucking-Hedgehog is a living, breathing goverment conspiracy, I can absolutely see her chasing the poor guy down enough to corner him to the point he becomes absolutely paranoid and terrified of her until he has enough and yells 'I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THAT CAGE, OVER MY DEAD BODY!' and everyone is like: 'What did you just say now?'

Or someone says something specifically triggering for Shadow and he just freezes like he saw a fucking ghost and makes him lose composture and even Sonic is worried about him only for him to run away as fast as he can before he spirals into a panic attack. (He does, but in the safety and comfort of his cave)

Whoever has watched the series and has better memory than me feel free to add whatever you want. I'm just like, ok, make Shadow the villain but make it made sense, give him a valid reason to hate the world and the people in it other than just tape glue the word edgy on his forehead, but again, I'm not even able to make him an actual villain, guess the anti-hero status remains...

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic boom #sticks the jungle badger #sticks the badger #chaotic ideas #fanfiction ideas #inspiration #fanfic dumpster #free prompts #knuckles the echidna #boom!shadow #boom knuckles

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versadies · 3 years ago

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ophichius/body switch soulmate au +xiao or childe pretty please? for xiao it can be like, when the body switch happens the reader feels the burden of the karmic debt so xiao starts taking care of himself/leaving instructions on what to do just so his soulmate doesn't have to suffer as much. reader is the traveler, in inazuma and xiao just quietly appreciated being free from karmic debt even for a day, and appreciating inazuma's beautiful sights whilst reader is just. in wangshuu inn. suffering

delicate (hc scenario)

penpal: bless you for such an incredible idea ! hope you like this along with your other request on childe <<3

prompt: ophiuchus the snake, body-switch soulmate au

pairing/s: xiao x gn!traveler!reader

sypnosis: hc on how you and xiao went through the whole day in each other's body.

includes: reader is not aether/lumine and is a random traveler (sorry to anon if you meant by reader being aether/lumine), reader suffering cuz of karmic debt, mentions of physical pain, mentions of violence, pure fluff

the moment xiao opens his eyes from his quick nap, the first thing he sees is the view of narukami island.

the yaksha was alerted at first, wondering how he came from hunting around dihua marsh for demons to sitting down beneath a tree with a new environment he hasn’t been in before.

it wasn’t until he realized he’s in a different outfit and different body that he found out that today’s the special day.

he hopes you aren’t in too much pain.

he observes his surroundings for a moment, then his eyes moved down to his appearance, only to see an outfit that is deemed fit for a traveler. his soulmate is a traveler in inazuma?

now that the yaksha thinks about it, he has heard the unfortunate fate the people of inazuma has to go through with the new rules that the current archon has set up, with her soldiers taking away people's visions, discrimination against outlanders, and the borders being closed around the nation.

xiao immediately checks around his– or rather his soulmate's– body to see if they have a vision, feeling relieved when he felt the familiar form of a vision hidden underneath his clothing.

all he needs to do is hide the vision and not go to the city, where he's sure a lot of vision hunters will be found.

this shouldn't be too hard, right?

meanwhile, you're currently writhing in pain in your soulmate's body, confused with what's happening to you– or rather, your soulmate's body.

you honestly had never such intense pain until now, how the hell does your soulmate deal with this? did he get a rare illness?

you couldn't think straight, your mind throbbing in pain as your body continued to ache and ache with voices running in your he–

"xiao? are you okay?" you shakily look up at the woman, who was staring at you with a concerned look on her face.

before you could try to let out a word, you immediately dropped on the floor, gasping out from the continuous pain. when does it ever stop? you rather go back to inazuma and suffer their new regulations instead of going through this pain–

"you're not xiao, are you?" she asks, causing you to nod profusely in response as you clench your fists together, closing your eyes shut whilst ignoring the woman, who was busy looking for something in her clothing.

"here." you open your eyes to see her handing you what looked like a pill. as if the woman read your mind, she quickly clarified what the pill is. "it's a painkiller. your uh, soulmate gave it to me and told me to give it to you in case you two swit–"

without letting the woman continue, you immediately snatched the pill from her and swallow it whole.

it took what felt like more than 20 minutes for the pain to finally subside, causing you to finally sigh in relief. although the pain was still there, it surely wasn't as painful and unbearable as before.

by the time you calmed yourself down, you slowly stood up from the cold floor and look at the woman gratefully. "you have my thanks, miss...?"

"verr goldet," she responds with a gentle smile. "i'm the owner of this inn. if there's anyone you should thank for, it's definitely your soulmate. you would've suffered the whole period of your body swap if it weren't for his thoughtfulness."

you nodded in understanding. "i see.. but i still am grateful for you stepping in."

"it's no problem, though i'm sure you're starving right now, would you like to eat?"

"yes please."

unlike what you recently went through in xiao's body, xiao was having perhaps one of the most peaceful time he has ever experienced. after all, when will he find an opportunity to not suffer from his karmic debt in this lifetime?

although killing the opponents who came in his way was a hassle, he still found his time enjoyable– with the exception of his mind thinking a lot about your wellbeing in his body. surely verr goldet must've given you the painmeds, right?

besides that, you must've seen the instructions he left for you– but what if you didn't see it and had to go through so much pain later on?

"please be okay." he mumbled under his breath, letting out a worried sigh and continued walking around the land.

unnoticed by the yaksha, you were indeed okay.

"i can see why my soulmate would love these," you commented to verr as you take more bites of the sweet dessert. "what does he do daily?"

verr lets out a nervous laugh. "to be honest, i don't really know what else he does other than hunting demons around the nation. though, you don't have to worry about doing it since xiao insisted that you can spend the whole day here instead."

"oh..." you look down at your plate with a deep frown. what if there's a demon that's hurting people and you couldn't do anything about it?

before you could ask verr, she immediately looks up at where the reception area is. "i have to go now. if you want to know anything, i recall xiao telling me to tell you to look at the instructions in your pocket. i'll be back!" she said before rushing upstairs to tend to one of the visitors, leaving you alone with your food.

you searched for the pocket around your pants, pulling out the piece of paper and read the list.

"should the pain meds run out, please visit a man named zhongli in liyue harbor."

"don't try to hunt for demons unless you want to experience more pain to endure."

"please come to verr goldet if you need something or require food. almond tofu is the only thing i can stomache, unfortunately."

"do not come to public areas if you have no reason to go there. karmic debt– the pain you're going through right now– can be affective to others."

the rest was all more rules for you to read and you're honestly thankful for xiao to write all of this for your sake, now regretting that you didn't do the same for him. what if he isn't aware of what's happening to inazuma?

you take another bite of almond tofu, silently hoping that xiao is doing okay back in your homeland.

to tell you the truth, xiao's definitely doing alright.

the yaksha had never went out of liyue for a very long time until now. sure, he could admit that nothing can beat the beautiful views that liyue can offer but inazuma is a sight to see.

everywhere he went, he found himself being fascinated by everything in this land, looking through ruins and staring at flowers that he himself hasn't seen in all of his life.

not to mention the fact that the mobs that lurks around the areas are different than the ones in liyue.

he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought of getting you out of the nation and come to liyue harbor, but he knew it wasn't up to him to decide on that. if it weren't for his duty in protecting liyue, xiao would've wanted to try and go to inazuma just to keep you safe, but what if you dislike him after everything you went through in his body? what if you didn't like him because he's immortal–

"they won't think such thing." he mumbled to himself, still slightly taken back by the sound of your voice coming out from his mouth as he sat down in an abandoned adventurer camp he spotted, looking forward to try out foods that he can make with the ingredients he found in your inventory.

as the day went by, you spent there in wangshu inn, writing a letter for xiao to read by the time the body switch is over along with visiting the man who can provide you more pain meds. xiao on the other hand spent time adventuring around inazuma trying to not get caught by vision hunters, enjoying his time without karmic debt.

by the end of the day, as the moon rises, the both of you finally found yourselves back in your bodies– with you sighing in relief that you've already finished writing the letter and not having to be in pain again whilst xiao was happy to be back in his homeland.

you then noticed you're in watatsumi island, your home being not too far away from where you're standing, causing you to smile. who knew xiao unknowingly took you back to where you've been heading to?

xiao on the other hand, was sitting on the rooftop of wangshu inn, reading the letter you left with his heart pounding at the words you wrote just for his eyes.

his shoulders instantly relaxes when he reads that you were okay throughout the day–

his mouth twitches upward when he reads the last words you wrote.

"once i come to liyue harbor and escape from inazuma, i wish to meet you and enjoy almond tofus with you."

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nctsplug02 · 3 years ago

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Can I request dad!johnny? he cheated with y/n so they broke up and 3 yrs later he saw y/n with their son (y/n a single mom) but johnny isnt still aware of it that it’s his kid? Angst-fluff maybe? Thank you!

get your popcorns ready, this is gonna be a long story.

genre: angst, fluff

—

You and your son were waiting in line for some ice cream, he heard the ice cream truck and asked to get some, of course you agreed since it was so hot outside. “Hello,” you greeted the man in the ice cream truck. “Hi, what can I get for you today?” He asks and you hum. “I think I’ll get vanilla. What do you want, baby?” You ask your three year old. “Can I get the brown one?”

The man chuckles and nods before heading back into his truck to get the ice creams. “Okay, here you two are! It’ll be five bucks.” You hand the man a five dollar bill before bidding your goodbyes.

“Y/n?” You turn your head to the direction where your name was called. “Oh, Mark? Taeil?” You’re shocked to see your olds friends standing in line, waiting to order their ice creams. “So it is you! Hyung, you owe me twenty bucks,” Taeil rolls his eyes at the youngster and nods.

“Anyways, how’ve you been? It’s been so long!” The young boy cheers. “I’ve—,” you feel your dress get tugged on. “Mommy, who are they?” Your son asks, hiding behind you. “These.. um,” you look back at Mark and taeil. “They are my friends from a long time ago.” You smile at the two men in front of you.

“Wait, your a mom now? Wow!” Mark covers his mouth in shock. “Mark, youre too loud.” Taeil tells him, Mark apologizes and lowers his voice. “Uh, yeah.. I’m a mom now.” Mark crouches down and holds a fit out to your son. “Hi, buddy! I’m mark!” Your son tilts to the side to look at Mark. He looks up at you who just smiles down at him. “I’m Sungchan.” Your son quietly introduces himself and hi-fives Marks fist.

“Nice to meet you, sungchan.” Mark giggles at the three year olds shyness. “Where are you guys off to?” Taeil asks while Mark tried to start a conversation with the three year old. “Just back to the park, what about you guys?” You point to the park that had no people. “Well, we came here to get some ice cream for us and the others, so we’re headed back.. over there.”

He points to a place behind the cars that were all parked and lined up. “Oh, who’s all over there with you guys? Maybe I’ll come with and say hello to them.” You smile at him, thinking about the others that you hadn’t seen either. “Well, there’s taeyong, Jeno, yuta, Doyoung, and Johnny.” He lists them out, you pause at the last name.

“O—oh, um, actually I think me and Sungchan are just gonna head home after this.” You hug Sungchan to your leg. “Oh, well. Here, how about we swap numbers so you can come over tonight? I mean, we are throwing a little party.” You think about it, what could go wrong with reuniting with some old friends?

“Sure! I mean, it’s been years since we’ve all talked and seen each other, so why not?” He laughs a little and pulls his phone out. You and him swap numbers before you and Sungchan left home.

Mark and Taeil walk back to the little group with ice cream cones in their hands. “Okay, take your ice creams! Me and Taeil have to tell you guys who we just met.” They all take their ice cream and wait for Mark to continue.

“We bumped into y/n at the ice cream truck, she looks better than ever!” Mark announces with a giggle.

——

Later that night, Taeil had texted you, telling you to come over for a bit. You got worried and asked if you could bring Sungchan, he said yes and that he didn’t mind.

You got Sungchan out of the car and knocked on the door. The door swings open and you see Mark at the door. “Aye! You actually came!” He gasps when he sees the three year old standing besides you. “Ahh! Sungchan!” He giggles and starts to jump. “Hi, Mark.” You giggle at how excited he was to see your son.

Mark shuts the door after letting the two of you in. “Are you hungry? Yeah, okay. Why don’t you go play with uncle Mark while mommy grabs you some food, yeah?” Your son nods and looks up at Mark. “Let’s go!” Sungchan grabs Marks hand and allows Mark to take him to the basement.

You sigh and start looking around for the kitchen. “Oh,” you find the kitchen filled with food that they had just barbecued. You hum and start looking for plates, paper plates are sitting on the counter which you grabbed. You filled with plate up with some chicken and rice. You reheat the cold food and while waiting a voice scares you.

“Y/n?” Oh, you knew that voice, you knew it well.

You turned around to see your ex lover standing in shock by the door frame. “Johnny, hi.” You inhale sharply. “Is.. is that your kid?” He points behind him.

- few moments ago -

Johnny sighs and opens the bathroom door. “Yo! Watch out, man!” Mark yells and pushes the tall man back into the bathroom. “Woah, who’s kid is that?” Johnny asks pointing to the three year old.

“Mhm.” You nod confirming his question. “Oh, well, how’ve you been—?”

beep, beep, beep.

The microwave saves the awkward moment. “I’ve been good, how about you?” You grab the food out of the microwave. “I’ve been.. good too.” He nods and tucks his hands in his pockets. “That’s good. Can you show me where the basement is?” He nods and gestures you to follow him.

Entering the basement, you could see your son playing with Mark. “Oh, my god! Y/n? It’s been so long!” Jungwoo gasps and sits up, running over to you and hugging you. “Hi Jungwoo!” You giggle and pst his back as he swayed you back and forth. “Gosh! So that baby must be yours, huh?” You nod and scrunch your face up. “Okay, well I see you have a plate of food so, go on.”

You walk over to Mark and Sungchan who are playing with some action figures. “Channie, come eat food.” You sit down and place the plate down. “Okay, mommy.” He crawls over to you and sits in front of you. “Here, ahh.” You open your mouth and so does he. “Omm, nom nom nom.” Your son giggles at your food noises.

——

After feeding your son, your son got tired and wanted to go home. “Hey guys, me and Sungchan are gonna head home. He’s getting really tired and cranky.” The guys frown and whine, not wanting you to leave just yet. “I’ll see you guys next time, okay?” Mark walks you to your car with Sungchan in his arms.

“Okay, bye y/n. Drive safe, alright?” You giggle and nod. “I’m not that bad of a driver, Mark. But yes, don’t worry. Goodnight Mark, don’t drink too much.” He laughs and nods. “Okay, mom,” he jokes, “goodbye channie, see you soon! Bye buddy!” He waves the little boy off before running back inside as you drove off.

——

For days your son had begged you nonstop if he could spend the night at Marks, and honestly, you didn’t know if Mark would be up for it or if he would be able to take care of your three year old. “Okay, I’ll call uncle Mark to see if he lets, okay?” The three year old cheers and nods.

You pick up your phone and start calling Mark.

“Hey, what’s up y/n?” The man sounded so lively. “Hi Mark, can I ask you something?” The boy nods and hums. “Okay, so lately Sungchan had been asking and begging for me to let him sleep at your place, so is it alright if Sungchan sleeps at your place? For like, a day?”

The man on the other line freaks. “Dude, of course! Send me your address I’ll come pick him up.” You giggle at his excitement, him and Sungchan are growing up as best friends. “Alright, ill send it.” The other line goes silent, bitch hung up.

“Channie! Go get ready! Uncle Mark is coming to pick you up!” The little boy cheers and runs into his room, quickly packing some of his toys and some clothes.

“Im ready, mommy!” He says with his backpack on and his shoes on the wrong way. “Good job, baby! Let’s go wait for uncle Mark outside, yeah?” He nods and runs towards the front door.

You and him are outside, youre sitting on the steps while he sat next to you. “It’s a pretty day, isn’t it?” Your son nods and looks at the flowers that were planted by the big tree in front of your house, it had a swing on it from your childhood.

A car pulls up and you grab Sungchan hand. “Oh, it’s uncle mark.” You let his hand go as he slowly walks down the stairs and then runs to his uncle. “Uncle Mark!” He jumps into the mans arms and makes the older man giggle. “Hey buddy!” He lifts up the three year old and looks over at you, who is walking towards them.

“Hey Mark, take good care of my baby, okay? He’s the only one I’m having.” Mark and you laugh, but soon after he nods. “Hey y/n?” You look in the car to see Johnny sitting in the passenger seat. “Oh, hey Johnny, didn’t see you.” He slightly laughs and then looks back in his lap. “Alright, ready to go, buddy?” The three year old nods.

“You go and be good, okay? If someone tells me you were being a bad boy, then you don’t get to go back to uncle Marks, got it?” The little on nods. “Okay, give mommy a kiss.” You turn your head and point to your cheek. You pull away when you feel his little lips press against it. “Okay, bye bye, baby.” You ruffle his hair. “Bye mommy!”

——

Later that night, you had ran to that store for some food and bumped into someone very attractive. You and him swapped numbers and starts going on dates after that. While on those dates, Mark would babysit for you, you offered to pay him for every time he watch your son but he didn’t accept it.

Tonight was a rainy night, you and jaehyun couldn’t go on a date so you both decided to stay in with Sungchan.

- a little recap of their night -

“Happy 8 month anniversary, babe.” Jaehyun says and clinks his wine glass with yours. “Happy 8 months, baby.” You take a small swig. “Mommy, happy happy day.” Sungchan holds up his cup of apple juice. “Aww, happy happy day, baby.” You giggled and clinked your cup with his.

——

It was so late and the rain made the three of you guys so sleepy, so the three of you ended up sleeping early.

A sudden faint knock could be heard from the living room. You sit up frantically, another knock. “Who the f.. it’s so late..” you groan and get out of bed, making your way down to the front door with a bat in your hand.

“Johnny?” You see Johnny standing in front of your door all soaked, he looked.. intoxicated. “Y/n..” he slurred and wobbled, he couldn’t even hold himself up. “Johnny, it’s late, what are you doing in front of my door at this time?” He laughs but it sounded broken. “I.. I miss you so much..”

he was just drunk talking, you said to yourself.

“Johnny, should I call Mark—?” He quickly shakes his head. “No, please don’t. If you do then he’ll yell at me.” You sigh, the cold breeze making your legs shiver. “I just miss you so much, I miss holding you at night, I miss the way you kissed me, please just take me back—“ you stopped his rambling, his drunk rambling.

“No, johnny, you don’t get to do this! I’ve finally healed after 4 years of our break up. I was so heartbroken that you cheated on me with some random chick from the bar. I was so hurt that you hid it from me and that I had to find out from Renjun and Chenle. This ain’t fair, johnny!” He laughs and nods. “He’s my son, isn’t he?” Great, a new topic.

“So what if he is? It doesn’t matter anymore, you were never in the picture anyway so why does it matter?” He looks up at you. “He’s my son—“ you shake your head. “No he isn’t, he isn’t. He may have your blood but he isn’t your son.” Silence took over, all that could be heard was the raining showering. “Just leave, please? I don’t want to ever see you again.” He steps closer with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Y/n, please let’s just talk—“ the door opens wider. “She said to leave.” Johnny looks at the man besides you and then back at you. “Alright, I’m sorry..” Johnny turns back around and walks out of your property.

Jaehyun closes the door shut and is immediately taken into your embrace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He shakes his hand and taps on your thigh, telling you to jump, so you do. “It’s okay, let’s just go back to bed.” He says carrying you back up to your room.

————

a/n: i got really tired and confused at the end. hopefully you can see where i ran out of words and ideas for this story. and by confused i mean like, not knowing anymore words, not knowing what to write and etc. hopefully i can fix this and make it better because it isn’t really that good. I’ll try my best next time! :)

#johnny angst #nct johnny #johnny seo #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct dad au #nct x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpop angst

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Merlin becomes a little obsessed with time, and how it’s running out:

Merlin struggles with a massive workload, and doesn’t understand how to ask for help, even with the simplest tasks, because people are relying on him. For small things, and large. He can’t let anyone down. He can’t.

REQUESTED

TW: not eating or sleeping properly, a little blood

Merlin is tired.

No one really notices the exhaustion, not at first anyway, what they do notice, is how much busier he seems to be.

He’s rushing around the castle so quickly, fetching and carrying things for Gaius, completing various chores for King Arthur, and trying to fix any problem he comes across (both the mundane, and the... less so), that no one sees him for long enough to notice the bags under his eyes. No one notices the way he sways on his feet if he stands still long enough. And if they do notice? Well, he’s rushing off to complete the next task on the list before they can say anything.

The few times he’s stopped to chat, he’s been quiet; polite but not really friendly.

His friends brush it off at first, he’s always been the type to rush places, and they figure he’s just got a lot of things to organise with the Yule celebrations coming up.

It had never really occurred to Merlin, but being the King’s Personal Manservant actually made him one of the most highly ranked servants in the castle. And that meant, everyone asking him for help, all the time.

Anything in the castle that could possibly concern The King, even briefly, was run by Merlin first. Everything from flower arrangements, to the week’s dinner menu, to which chambers to house guests in, to when exactly The King would like this paperwork completed.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin had managed to stay on top of things for years, even during busier times such as these.

But this winter was different somehow.

Merlin was a fully trained physician by this point, and he didn’t like to think about it much, but Gaius was getting older, quicker and quicker it seemed.

This just meant that more and more of the excursions that Gaius used to take outside the Physician’s chambers, were now being passed on to Merlin.

He valued the trust that Gaius placed in him, but a trip to the lower town to treat this year’s strain of flu took him away for almost a week.

Long nights consoling young children who were in pain, followed by long days making it to as many houses as possible, to treat as many people as possible, meant he lost out on a lot of sleep. Especially since his mind was thinking about a million other things at the same time.

After finally getting the outbreak under control, he made quick work of the journey back to the castle, only to find a list of various speeches that needed writing and chores to catch up on, and a long line of panicking servants who needed whatever duties they had double checked.

Merlin had barely caught up on all of that work, staying up late through the night, when a second outbreak occurred in a different section of the city.

Gaius had made it clear to The King that the people’s health, and therefore Merlin’s position as Secondary Physician, should come first; Arthur whole heartedly agreed, and gave Merlin the time off to deal with it happily enough, but that didn’t erase the huge list of things he still had to get done when he returned.

He was only gone for three days this time, but with Yule getting closer and closer and foreign nobles arriving for the celebrations, Merlin had a ridiculous number of things to do when he got back.

The headache that had been coming and going over the last month soon became permanent, and the shaking in his hands became something he had to actively account for any time he carried something heavier than a plate.

Merlin was rushing from the kitchens to the stables after dropping off Arthur’s empty breakfast tray when he heard it.

He paused in the corridor, leaning his weight against the cold stone of the wall as he strained his ears.

Just as he was about to write it off as him hearing things due to the lack of sleep, he heard it again, clearer this time, like someone was crying just on the other side of the stone.

He backtracked down the corridor a few metres, and slowly pushed open the door to a storage room, only to see Annabeth, the castle’s youngest serving girl, having a cut on her cheek being cleaned by George.

The both of them look up in shock at the intrusion, and Merlin clenches his fists as he sees the tears on Annabeth’s cheeks. He is especially worried when he sees the concern, painted clear as day on George’s face. George who was well know for being the least reactionary, most expressionless servant in the castle.

He shuts the door behind him, and walks forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She immediately launches herself forward, and begins crying once again into Merlin’s chest.

He almost falls back, barely able to carry his own weight right now, let alone the weight of a distraught young girl, but thankfully George notices his imbalance and catches him with a firm hand on his back.

Merlin gives him a grateful, but bleary smile, as he strokes a comforting hand up and down Annabeth’s back.

He nods to the bloody cloth in George’s other hand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

George catches his meaning quickly, and replies in a quiet, but harsh voice:

“Lord Anselm reported that his manservant had taken ill, and requested that Annabeth take over. He was... displeased, with a dropped pillow.”

Merlin frowns in worry, as the girl, barely even fourteen summers, looks up at him with red eyes:

“I didn’t even drop it, it fell off his bed when I had my back turned. But he started yelling and he... he threw an empty goblet at me and then got even angrier at that mess. He wouldn’t let me leave for ages he was just standing over me and screaming.”

Merlin can see George tense in anger out the corner of his eye, and he calmly shushes the girl, wiping away her tears and giving her a small smile:

“He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault. George is going to take you to Gaius, to get that looked at properly, and I’ll deal with Anselm until his manservant gets better, ok?”

George frowns slightly, but Annabeth speaks up before he can say anything:

“You won’t get in trouble, will you Merlin?”

Merlin gives her a cheeky wink and ruffles her hair:

“I’m always in trouble.” She giggles slightly, and Merlin counts that as a win.

She steps back, and George takes her hand, but he looks at Merlin, speaking quietly once again:

“Are you sure? I know you’ve got a lot of work at the moment, you can drop her off at Gaius’ and I can serve Lord Anselm, if you like.”

Merlin shakes his head, but realises quickly that was a bad idea as his vision starts swimming. He closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, before looking back at an obviously concerned George and replying:

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him. All those bloody quests Arthur drags me on means I’m well equipped to deal with people like Lord Anselm. Though I would appreciate it if you could pass by the stables and let them know to have Arthur’s horse prepared for noon, tomorrow.”

The fact that George’s lip twitches only slightly at Merlin’s address of the King, tells Merlin that the man is truly worried about Annabeth, and now probably Merlin’s safety as well.

He nods his head slightly, with a quiet “Of course.” and with that, the three of them leave the storage room.

They head in opposite directions, but after moving only a few feet, George looks back and calls to Merlin over his shoulder.

Merlin turns, slowly this time now that dizziness has become a problem, as George asks with a frown:

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?”

Merlin gives him a small nod and smile, before waving him off:

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. I’ll see you later.”

George’s frown deepens, but he nods slightly, and turns back around again, leading Annabeth in the direction of the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin took a deep breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes as he watched them turn the corner, before turning in the opposite direction, and making his way to the guest chambers.

Lord Anselm was a visitor from a neighbouring kingdom, known for his harsh treatment of anyone he deemed below him (which... to be honest... was everyone, as far as he was concerned). He was here for the Yule celebrations, and to suck up to the King no doubt.

Merlin paused outside the room, taking another deep breath and trying to not look so exhausted, before knocking politely on the door.

A voice grumbles from the other side, calling for him to enter.

Merlin entered slowly, and shut the door behind him, immediately spying the Lord eating his breakfast at the table. He was an intimidating man, tall, even taller than Merlin, with a heavy gait, a thick beard, and a permanent scowl.

He looks harshly at Merlin, and roughly asks:

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my girl?”

Merlin clenches his hands behind his back, but replies neutrally, looking somewhere over the Lord’s shoulder:

“I’m afraid she has succumbed to an injury, and won’t be serving you anymore. I’m The King’s personal manservant, meaning I won’t be able to serve you full time. We’re a little understaffed at the moment, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

The man growls and stands up, stalking quickly towards the manservant.

Merlin was especially glad that he was made aware of his balance and dizziness issues earlier, because if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold himself upright when Lord Anselm swung a harsh fist to the side of his face.

He smirked horribly as he said:

“Insolent little thing, aren’t you? Are all of King Arthur’s servants so pretty?”

Merlin’s head rocked violently to the side, and he took a step back, before righting himself. He took a subtle deep breath as he winced in pain, but schooled his face back into indifference as he returned his gaze to just over The Lord’s shoulder:

“Would you like me to return your tray to the kitchen, My Lord?”

Anselm growled once more, obviously unhappy with the lack of reaction, and brought down a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leaning in close and snarling:

“You do that, pretty boy.”

Merlin waits impassively for him to release the bruising grip he had on his shoulder, before stepping around him and clearing away the tray.

Lord Anselm stared at him distastefully, but Merlin dutifully ignored it, and headed to the chamber door with the tray of leftovers and dirty plates. Anselm turns quickly towards him:

“Hurry back. I have things that need doing.”

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looks him straight in the eyes before saying:

“Like I said My Lord, we’re incredibly understaffed at the moment. I’m afraid no one will be able to serve you until your own manservant recovers from his illness.”

The shocked look on the Lord’s face gives Merlin just enough time to leave the room and hurry half way down the corridor, before Anselm followed him out.

Merlin heard the door bang off the wall as Anselm ripped it open, ready to shout, enraged, but the sight of the guards patrolling the corridor stopped him, and he slammed the door shut again with a huff.

Merlin let out a relieved breath. He had hoped that the sight of the guards would stop him from making a scene, and he was glad he was right.

One of the guards, an older man named Gavin who had always been kind to Merlin, stopped him with a hand on his (unbruised) shoulder:

“You alright Merlin? I though Annabeth was serving him?” He nodded at the other guard to continue on, mumbling that he would catch up in a minute, before looking back at Merlin, who blearily nodded:

“He threw a tantrum, hurt her. George took her to Gaius and I said I would deal with him.”

The guard frowned and muttered “bastard” under his breath, but widened his eyes as he saw the bruise blooming on Merlin’s cheek:

“Bloody hell, Merlin, do you always take over for the violent ones? You should get that checked out.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, only slightly:

“It’s fine, I’ve got too much else to deal with at the moment. The manservant he brought with him is sick, and Annabeth is certainly not serving him again, so I told him he would have to deal with minimal serving, until his servant gets better.”

Gavin let out a breath, and chuckled slightly:

“Pfft. Balls of steel, Merlin. Go on, you look in a hurry, I won’t keep you.”

With that, Merlin gives him a brief smile, before rushing towards the kitchens once again, trying not to feint the whole way.

The whole ordeal only pushed him twenty minutes behind, but twenty minutes was a problem when he was already three days behind on Arthur’s laundry, two days behind on stocking up on ingredients for Gaius, and two weeks overdue for a lunch with Gwen.

Plus he still had one speech left to proof read, and considering Arthur wrote it himself, it’s more likely to end up being a full re-write, rather than a proof read.

OH, and that leak that he’d promised the stablehands he would help fix.

Ah shit. He also had to collect Gwaine’s spare sword from the blacksmith at some point, before he forgot again.

AND there was a huge delivery of flowers today, no doubt there would be some sort of problem with that.

All of that, on top of the fact that no one has tried to kill Arthur in recent weeks, and it was starting to unnerve him.

His journey to the kitchens went much like that. Task upon chore upon promise upon paranoid intrusive thought piling up in his head with every step.

He finally got to the kitchen doors, and paused outside. He took a deep, shaky breath, and shut his eyes tight, before forcing his mind to calm, and pushing through the door.

The noise and smells immediately had him turn his head sideways, as if trying to escape the sudden onslaught, but the movement did nothing but force him to realise how much the side of his face had begun to throb.

He took another deep breath as the persistent noise, now in his mind, and out of it, made him want to scream. He resisted the urge, and dumped the tray next to the sink, before rushing out once again, ignoring the glares that the cook sent his way.

As he hurried down the corridor, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to stop the shaking, he decided that laundry was the priority right now. If he could just get at least one basket done, that would be enough for today at least; and he could read over the speech whilst he did it.

Ok. ok. This is fine.

He finally made it to Arthur’s chambers, bursting in without knocking, and walking straight to the pile of dirty clothes.

He doesn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that they were on the floor, instead of in the basket, and he certainly isn’t with it enough to notice the conversation between Arthur and George... wait... George??

Merlin is only lets his surprise distract him for a moment before he looks back to the laundry, bending over far too quickly, and having to hold himself up against the wall as his vision swims.

He vaguely hears George calling his name, but he waves his hand behind him absentmindedly and ignores him. He forces his eyes to focus again, as he picks up an armful of clothes.

He stumbles over to the desk, still not paying attention to the other two occupants of the room. He looks around blearily, once again beginning to clench and unclench his hands under the dirty clothes in his arms, just to stop himself from falling over.

He takes a deep breath, and interrupts whatever it is Arthur is saying:

“Speech.”

Arthur is clearly taken aback, having realised that Merlin hasn’t listened to anything either of them has said. George gives him a knowing look behind Merlin’s back, and Arthur frowns.

Merlin turns around, quick enough to make his vision blue once again, but not quick enough to make him fall over, and looks in Arthur’s vague direction:

“Speech. Where is it?”

Arthur gasps as he notices the now deep purple mark up the side of Merlin’s face and steps forward, George follows him, and takes the laundry from Merlin’s hands, and setting it on a chair before turning back to him.

He turns just in time to see Merlin almost tip backwards, and rushes forward, placing firm hand on his back once again.

Arthur slowly brings his hand up, concern written all over his face as his fingers hover just over the bruise:

“Merlin... what happened?”

Merlin rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back around to the desk, gently pushing George’s hand away and looking through the paperwork:

“Fell. Speech? I really do need it Arthur, I don’t have time.”

Arthur looks at George out the corner of his eyes, and George shakes his head, mouthing “Lord Anselm” .

Arthur frowns again, and picks up a piece of paper from his bedside table, going to hand it to Merlin, before snatching it back when he reaches for it:

“Not, until you tell me the truth, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs, and rolls his eyes again, before snapping:

“Fine, Lord Anselm punched me in the face because he’s a Lord and I’m a servant, and he can do whatever he wants to me and that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Speech. Please?”

In Arthur’s shock at Merlin’s bluntness, Merlin leans forward and grabs the piece of paper, before quickly turning away, ignoring the loss of vision at the sharp movement. He knew his way around Arthur’s chambers when he was asleep, he could manage a short black out.

He gathers up the laundry once again, and stumbles towards the door, interrupting Arthur’s:

“Merlin! Will you just-”

With:

“Don’t have time.”

And leaving the room before either of them can say anything more.

Arthur shakes himself free of the shock, and looks to George, bewildered:

“You really weren’t kidding were you? He’s completely out of it. Do you know what’s wrong?”

George frowns only slightly as he replies:

“It’s a busy time of the year My Lord, and we’re rather under staffed at the moment. Merlin has a habit of being unable to say no when people ask for help. That, on top of his normal duties to yourself and Gaius, and having to deal with the flu outbreak, I think- If I may speak freely, Sire?”

Arthur nods immediately:

“Of course, George, always.”

George nods gratefully before continuing:

“I think he’s just a little over-worked at the moment, My Lord. He’s never been good at asking for help.”

Arthur nods and hums thoughtfully. He thinks for a minute before looking back at the servant:

“Hmm. Keep an eye on him, won’t you George? I can’t have him keeling over, and make sure he gets some food in him.-”

George gives a firm nod:

“-Thank you, you’re dismissed, go back to your duties.”

With that, George turns and leaves the room, wiping the worried frown from his face and resetting it into his normal neutrality.

Merlin was unendingly grateful to find that the speech wasn’t actually that bad. By the time he finished hanging Arthur’s clothes to dry, he had a solid idea in his head of all the little bits he needed to tweak. He just needed to get a quill to it, and it’d be done and dusted.

He rushed as quickly as he was able without falling over, back to Arthur’s chambers, opening the door slowly this time; he really didn’t have the time to stop and chat, and if anyone was in there, he would just come back later.

Thankfully, the rooms were empty, and Merlin only had to spend around five minutes sat at the desk (where there was a small plate of food, labelled “For Merlin”, which of course went untouched. Deliberately ignored or just unnoticed, who knows), writing out his adjustments.

Five minutes however, was long enough for him to forget to not move too quickly, and the moment he tried to stand up, he immediately passed out. He fell back into the chair, and slumped forward onto the desk, his bruised cheek landing with a smack on the wood.

He woke again with a start, and jumped up quickly as he ran his hands through his hair roughly. He began to breath deeply, and tears came to his eyes as he brought his hands down roughly, gripping the edge of the table so hard he could feel his hands bruising.

Merlin, after managing to keep what he thought was a tight lid on it all day, was officially panicking.

His cheek was throbbing again, but he could barely feel it, only able to think about how much time he was wasting.

He can’t be taking naps now. He can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still two days behind on laundry, two days behind shopping, two weeks since he’d last properly spoken to Gwen, he can feel a storm in the air so the leak HAS to be fixed now and Gwaine NEEDS his sword and where are those fucking flowers??

The more Merlin’s thoughts rush around his head, the more tasks he remembers that he needs to do, the more he panics. And the more he panics, the less he can breath, and the less he can breath, the more time, he is wasting.

When Merlin finally manages to open his eyes, which he hadn’t realised had been shut painfully tightly, he notices that the shadows on the walls have barely moved since he last checked.

Huh.

Ok.

He breaths slightly easier as he just about manages to drag himself over to a window, peering down into the courtyard below, to see that the castle was still busy.

He must’ve only been passed out for a few minutes at most.

It’s ok. There’s still time.

Merlin takes one last deep breath, pours himself a glass of water from Arthur’s jug and downs it all in one.

Ok. Too much to do, no more wasting time.

Merlin quickly straightens out the desk, leaving the speech in the middle for Arthur to see, and ignores the remaining fuzziness in his head as he stumbles out the door and down to the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin spends the next few hours down at the market.

He could feel his heart pounding louder in his ears with each second that he had to stand and wait in line, but it was no ones fault but his own that he had left the shopping too late.

He just had to be patient. Ignore the headache, ignore the pain in his cheek and shoulder, ignore the bruises on the palms of his hands from where he gripped the table, ignore the paranoid thoughts about assassins and poisoners and bandits.

By the time he made it back to Gaius’ chambers, it was dark. His hands shook violently, and he could barely see what he was unloading from his bags, but he kept pushing forward.

Without sparing a glance towards Gaius, he rushed out of the room again, now unhealthily used to the constant swimming in his vision, he dragged his hand along the stone walls of the castle corridor, and used that to navigate to the kitchen to pick up Arthur’s dinner.

The cook of course yelled at him about being late, but instead of brushing it off like he normally did, he internalised it.

He spent the whole journey up to Arthur’s chambers working himself up.

He was late. He was running out of time. He was so fucking tired. But that’s fine. That’s ok. One more job tonight, and he can rest. Just one.

He delivers Arthur’s food without a word, and if Arthur wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now.

Merlin lays out the meal, and quickly goes about lighting the fire for the night, and turning down The King’s bed. He turns to Arthur, not really bothering to focus his eyes and actually look at him, before saying:

“Anything else tonight, My Lord?”

The lack of sarcasm would be worrying enough to Arthur, but the way Merlin’s eyes stayed unfocussed, even as Arthur walked towards him, and the way his words slurred, almost sent him into a panic.

Merlin finally makes eye contact with him as Arthur grips his shoulders, but he quickly lets go when Merlin flinches in pain.

Fuck that hurt.

He’d forgotten about the bruised shoulder.

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Merlin, are you alright? You look exhausted, you look sick. And you didn’t eat the food George left out.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, and moves towards the door, rolling his shoulder slightly to try and sooth the ache:

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine, and I’m not a dog Arthur. Just lots to do. Am I dismissed?”

Arthur nods slowly, but suddenly adds, as Merlin gets to the door:

“Yes, but only if you get something to eat and then go straight to bed. Get some sleep Merlin, whatever it is, can wait until morning.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at him, just waves his hand over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

Ok. One more job. Just one more and then sleep. Maybe. He did have some useful new spells he needed to memorise... having as little time as he does means he should probably get at least a few done tonight.

Ok. One more job, then he can sit in bed and memorise some of those spells, then maybe he can get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise bought tomorrow’s jobs.

He headed over to the stables, at this time of night no one should be around, he can wave his hand, make some sparks, and the leak would be gone.

He halts in his tracks and his eyes widen as he subconsciously begins clenching and unclenching his hands once again.

No.

The stablehands know he promised to fix it. If they see it’s been fixed with some sort of miracle, instead of patched up properly, they’ll know.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he’s also running on no food, no sleep, and a potential concussion. Trying to use magic right now was probably not his best idea.

He forces his hands to still, and continues his trek across the courtyard, towards the stables.

The next time he stops, it’s because he hears the distinct sound of an armoured guard falling to the floor (the fact that he recognises the sound immediately, should tell you all you need to know about how insane Merlin’s life is).

Merlin rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he mumbles:

“For fucks sake, I knew it had been too long.”

Without wasting another second, Merlin turns back around, and sneaks carefully to where he’d heard the noise come from.

He finally spies the slumped guard by the main entrance to the castle, and after establishing that the attacker was long gone, he rushes over.

The growing puddle of blood, and lack of pulse, worries Merlin endlessly. Whoever did this was good, the guard never saw it coming, and now he was dead.

Merlin doesn’t want to leave him like this, but in all likelihood, the assassin was going to head straight to Arthur’s chambers, and Merlin had to catch up before he could do any damage.

The exhausted manservant rushes through the large doors, trying ever so hard to focus eyes, and not quite managing it, but powering through anyway. Thankfully he new the route to Arthur’s chambers by heart, he didn’t have to be able to see to know where he was going.

He’s already out of breath before he even reaches the staircase that leads up to the royal chambers, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and catch his breath. Arthur was in danger, and as per fucking normal, Merlin was the only one that seemed to know anything about it.

He forced himself up the steps, being mindful of his weak legs and using the wall to pull himself up as quick as he could.

He swore to himself as he turned the corner to see the vague outline of a man with a dagger slip unnoticed through the doors to Arthur’s chambers.

Where the fuck were the rest of the guards?? Merlin had expected to see a few more bodies on his way up but there had been none. Shift change over maybe? In which case, how did the assassin know?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind; something to worry about later, as he sprints down the corridor.

He almost falls several times, tripping over nothing but his own exhaustion, but he uses his own momentum to stop himself tipping over, forcing his feet to just keep moving forward.

He bursts into the room loudly, and the assassin, who had almost reached Arthur slumped over asleep on his desk, whips his head around to stare at him in shock.

The King mumbles from his spot on the desk:

“Merlin... I told you to get some sleep.”

That seems to snap the assassin out of his surprise, and he lurches towards Arthur, bringing the dagger up so he could swing it down viciously into his back, but Merlin rushes forward to meet him.

He shoves Arthur’s chair with as much force as he can muster, and steps into the space it had resided in as Arthur sprawls on the floor, cursing loudly.

It takes only a second for Arthur to be on his feet, a sword that was hidden under the desk gripped in his hand and any remaining sleepiness scrubbed from his face, but that second is all it takes for the dagger to sink with sickening force into Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin gasps and staggers back as Arthur steps forward, swinging the hilt of his sword down onto the attacker’s head, and with a loud thunk, the would-be assassin drops to the floor, unconscious.

Arthur turns quickly towards Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, dagger still planted deeply in his shoulder, and once again curses loudly. He rushes forward to catch his manservant just as he falls, widening his eyes as he notices the rapidly growing crimson stain on his tunic:

“GUARDS!!” he yells it towards the still open door, but looks to Merlin as he mumbles:

“Shift... change. No one there yet.” with a groan.

Arthur curses for a third time, as he pulls Merlin’s uninjured arm around his neck, and starts to stagger towards the door, dragging Merlin, who is basically a dead weight at this point.

The manservant groans, not sure if it’s the constant, background panic that’s seemed to plague him the last few weeks, or the pain of the newest stab wound that’s making him dizzy, but either way... ow.

Merlin finally manages to raise his gaze to realise that Arthur is currently dragging him past the closest exit to the stables (god knows how they’d gotten that far without Merlin noticing), and he half-heartedly pulls away.

Arthur almost stumbles with Merlin’s sudden movement, but says strongly:

“No not that way Merlin, gotta get to Gaius, you’re going to ok, alright?”

Merlin’s breath deepens in panic, and Arthur, mistaking it’s meaning, says:

“Almost there, Merls, don’t worry, Gaius will fix you right up, just hang on a little more for me.”

Merlin tries to pull away again, going so far as to softly thump Arthur on the chest to make him let go (it doesn’t work, he’s far too weak):

“No... no, you don’t.... understand. I can‘t, I don’t.... I don’t have time.”

Arthur frowns at him, but continues moving in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. He turns his concerned face away from Merlin, to see two guards turning into the corridor ahead of them:

“HEY!! One of you go to my chambers to collect the would-be assassin, and one of you run ahead to Gaius to warn him we’re coming; deep stab wound to the shoulder. Tell anyone you might see to be on high alert, an attempt on my life has been made.”

Arthur growls as they just stand in shock, obviously taken aback at the sight of the King near dragging an almost dead-looking servant down the corridor towards:

“NOW!”

With that they jump into action, one of them sprinting back the way Arthur and Merlin had come, the other sprinting ahead, to warn Gaius.

Arthur looks back down to Merlin, trying to pick up his pace as he notices him grow weaker and weaker:

“Come on, only a few more corridors Merlin, then Gaius will take care of you and you can sleep it off. I’ll even give you tomorrow off, how does that-”

Before Arthur can finish his question, Merlin moans, and tries to pull away again:

“No... time. Too many things to do... not... no time. Leak...”

Arthur stares at him in confusion as Merlin trails off, but blinks in surprise, as he gains a sudden burst of lucidity again:

“NO! Leak needs... sorting. Flowers and... Gwaine’s sword. Check on... Annabeth-”

He pulls away from Arthur far more violently this time, and the King drops him as he staggers from the force.

Arthur curses and kneels down, panicked as he tries to get his arms under Merlin’s weight again. Which Merlin is making very difficult.

The manservant can’t really feel the pain at this point. All he knows is that time is passing. Time that should be spent fixing things. Whatever stupid thing Arthur wants right now needs to wait.

Leak. Then spells. Then catch up on laundry through the night. Then check on the flowers in the morning. Hopefully lunch with Gwen. Sword next. Then. Then he can maybe think about whatever is happening right now.

Arthur finally gets his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulls him up, growing more and more worried as Merlin tries to wiggle away, like he doesn’t want to get treated.

Only one more corridor.

Arthur continues his journey through the halls, breathing deeply with the exertion.

Merlin had lost the last of his strength trying to escape, and the fall to the floor had knocked his other injuries slightly, so Arthur was forced to pick him up, carrying the limp man bridal style.

He finally made it to Gaius’ chambers, to see the guard holding open the door, and Gaius rushing around, gathering various ingredients and tools.

Arthur bolts through the door, not even looking at the guard as he spots the empty cot in the middle of the room, and carefully lays a clearly delirious Merlin down.

The dark haired boy continues to mumble, a frown etched deeply onto his features:

“No... time... too much else... to worry about...”

Arthur calms his own breathing before looking back to the guard:

“Make sure the alarm is sounded. Find out if the assassin was caught and report back to me as soon as you know anything. I’ll be here.”

The guard nods firmly before running out of the room, and Arthur turns his attention back to Merlin. He gasps as he notices blood dripping from the palms of his hands, and lurches forward, forcing Merlin’s fingers to uncurl.

Arthur realises with a numb horror, that something much more than the stab wound is wrong with his... friend. This isn’t even close to the worst injury he’s ever seen Merlin get, but still he lies here, panicking about something to such an extent that he drew blood with his own nails.

Gaius finally bustles over, and without even looking at him, forcefully tells Arthur:

“Hold him down, he’s in no sort of mental state for me to treat him awake, so I need to get this down him and he won’t... appreciate it.”

The King notices the vial of foul-smelling liquid in Gaius’ hands, and quickly moves around to stand behind Merlin’s shivering form.

He presses one hand down onto his uninjured shoulder, and bends over, leaning his other forearm across his chest, trying desperately to avoid aggravating the dagger still imbedded in his shoulder.

Once he’s secure, Gaius pinches Merlin’s nose, and pours the liquid into his mouth, quickly dropping the vial onto the table beside him, and massaging his throat to help it go down.

Merlin spasms for a few seconds and kicks out, but Arthur just about manages to hold him steady before he finally goes limp, his eyes rolling back, and his hands hanging off the side of the cot.

Arthur steps back, and collapses in a chair at Merlin’s side, before looking up at Gaius. The King watches the Physician bring over a pair of scissors and cut Merlin’s blood soaked tunic away, before examining the wound, and carefully removing the dagger.

Arthur tries to calm his heart rate, and takes deep breaths as he watches Gaius work, knowing that the injury, though bloody, was not life threatening.

At some point during the process of the wound being cleaned, stitched, and dressed, the guard from earlier had re-entered the chambers to say:

“The assassin was found and taken to the dungeons, sire. The castle is on high alert, and patrols are looking for any accomplices, though currently it appears the man was working alone. Two guards have been found dead, one at the castle gate, and one at the main entrance to the building.”

Arthur vaguely remembers nodding, and dismissing the guard; telling him to keep him updated, before focusing back on Merlin.

When Gaius finally slumps into the chair opposite Arthur, on Merlin’s other side, The King takes a deep breath, before asking quietly:

“What’s wrong with him, Gaius? I mean besides the obvious? George said-”

Before Arthur can finish, three thunderous pairs of feet burst through the door.

The King looks up to see Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon enter the room in a hurry. Gwen answers his questioning gaze with:

“The three of us were together when a guard told us what happened. Will he be alright?”

Gaius gives them a comforting, but strained smile, as they move towards the cot:

“He’ll be fine my dear, with time.”

Gwen moves quickly to stand by Arthur’s side, and takes one of Merlin’s limp hands in her own as she blinks away tears, her other hand covering her mouth. Gwaine rushes to the end of the cot, looking down at his best friend with a pained expression, and resting a hand on his leg. Leon steps into place above Merlin’s head, stroking a gentle hand through his hair, before focusing his concerned expression on Arthur in question.

Arthur huffs, but pays them no mind as he looks back at Gaius:

“Like I was saying, what’s wrong with him? George said he was acting oddly, and he seemed... almost sickly the last time I saw him. Then all the way here he was trying to get away from me, he just kept muttering about time, and saying he had things to do.”

Gwaine growls, and before Gaius can reply, he snarls out:

“You’ve been bloody overworking him, that’s what’s wrong. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

Arthur looks up, annoyed:

“That’s exactly why I’ve been giving him fewer chores, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t give him anything specific to do today, and when I told him he would have some time off on the way here, he freaked. Pulled away, I dropped him, and he just began muttering about not having time, having too much to do.”

Gwen clears her throat before timidly saying:

“He has been acting a bit strange. He seemed a little stressed after the first outbreak, but I figured that was normal for this time of year and let him be. Then he got back so late last night, and every time I saw him today he just seemed... more and more panicked. I tried to stop him a few times but he ignored me, like his mind was completely elsewhere.”

Arthur frowns at that, and Leon speaks next, his hand still absentmindedly carding through Merlin’s hair:

“Hmm. He’s been looking unwell; swaying on his feet, leaning on walls. I saw him in the market earlier today and he looked about ready to feint, but I was pulled away by a few guards. When I looked back again, he was stumbling away in the opposite direction. He looked in a rush, so like Gwen, I let him be. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well?”

Gaius looks grim, and nods:

“I heard him moving about all through last night. I got up to offer him a sleeping draught but he refused, saying he had things to do. I got the impression this morning that he didn’t sleep a wink. And I remember what the yearly flu excursions were like, I doubt he slept any better whilst he was treating people in the lower-town.”

The three of them look troubled. How had they let it get this far? Merlin was clearly some sort of sick, and no one had noticed until he was ignoring stab wounds and clawing at his own skin.

Leon tilted Merlin’s head, frown deepening as he spots the purple bruise over his cheek, now also stretching up into his temple and into his hairline. His voice came out a mumble, as if he were speaking to himself:

“What happened here?”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he replied lowly:

“Lord Anselm. I informed him to leave my kingdom and told him not to come back until he could refrain from beating my staff.”

Leon nodded, face angry, and Gwaine replied:

“Bet he didn’t like that, the bastard.”

Arthur looked up at Gaius, and cleared his throat before asking:

“What do you suggest, Gaius? He’s clearly not... ok.”

Gaius sighed once more, looking down at the man who had become his son, before saying quietly:

“I imagine all three of us are right, in a way. He’s overworked, stressed, and lacking sleep. That mixed with a punch hard enough to give him a mild concussion, and the fact he likely hasn’t eaten very well over the last few weeks, led to a... miniature break down, of sorts.-”

He looks up at Arthur, who is struggling to hide how distraught he is, with grim determination:

“-He will need time off to recover. More than a few days, likely. And support. He has learnt to rely on no one but himself in recent years. Dealing with a workload that multiple people would struggle with all on his own, was almost certainly what led to his obsession with time, time running out. You will need to reassure him that any tasks he is worried about are being completed just fine without him, otherwise he’ll panic.”

Arthur nods before replying, his voice thick:

“Of course. Whatever he needs. He mentioned... a leak? And flowers, Gwaine’s sword. He mumbled a few other things as well, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something about Annabeth?”

Gaius rubs his eyes as he nods slowly:

“Yes, George bought Annabeth by earlier. Lord Anselm had hurt her and Merlin sent the two of them here before he went to deal with the Lord.-”

He looked up to see Arthur sporting a vicious frown, and continues:

“-She’s fine now, just a little shaken, her injuries will heal in a week or so. The other things he mentioned to you though...”

Arthur sighs, but Gwen speaks up, still clutching Merlin’s hand, before he can say anything:

“I overheard some of the stable-hands worrying about a leak in the stable, knowing Merlin, he probably offered to help them. And the flowers... well there was supposed to be a delivery today, for the feast decorations, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine swallows, looking a little guilty, before saying:

“He ran my spare sword to the blacksmith about a week ago, for repairs. I told him there was no rush, but he must’ve got in a panic about it.”

Arthur nods, but raises his eyes to Gwen in confusion:

“Ok, the sword and the leak I understand, but the flowers? Why would a castle delivery be any concern of his??”

Gwen widens her eyes in surprise, and Leon makes a disbelieving noise, before saying:

“Sire, with all due respect, Merlin is the King’s Personal Manservant. Of course it concerns him.”

At the growing confusion on Arthur’s face, Leon sighs. He drags a chair forward, and sits in his place behind Merlin’s head as he continues to absent-mindedly run his fingers through the man’s hair:

“My Lord, everything that has anything to do with you, gets run by Merlin first. Pretty much every non-political decision not directly made by you, is made by Merlin. I always thought it was rather hilarious that he didn’t seem to realise how much power he has within the castle.”

Arthur widens his eyes in realisation, and slumps back in his seat:

“I had no idea... no wonder he’s so exhausted all the time. He’s practically running the castle behind my back.”

Gwen nods sympathetically, but Gwaine still looks a little annoyed as he grinds out:

“Honestly princess. How did you think it was that the visitors you liked least were always housed in the chambers furthest away from yours? Or how the castle kitchen is always stocked up on your personal favourites? Or perhaps how council meetings always seem to be at a time most convenient for you, despite you never rearranging your own schedule? When we all joke about how you wouldn’t last a day without Merlin... we mean it. He doesn’t just dress you and feed you and sing you to sleep, he runs your whole life, mate.”

Leon and Gwen nod, and Arthur sighs, and the room goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise being Merlin’s ragged breathing.

Arthur finally straightens up, and nods to himself slightly:

“Right. Merlin gets every Monday off, no matter what, including his physician duties where possible. George is going to be reassigned as an... assistant of sorts; Merlin will hate it but I don’t care, he needs the help. He’s also going to get a bloody great big pay rise, and new chambers with a big desk. And that’s just to start with.”

Gaius raises his infamous eyebrow, but Arthur ignores it, he can see the hint of pride in his eyes. Gwen and Leon smile and nod, and Gwaine huffs before muttering:

“Yeah, that better be just to start with. Kid deserves the world.”

Arthur stands from his chair and begins pacing, before looking back to the others in a hurry:

“Ok, Gwen, can you go find the Housekeeper, inform her that I want a few more servants to be hired, on a permanent basis. The castle is obviously understaffed if Merlin is the only one fixing everyone else’s problems. Take Gwaine with you, a guard informed me the assassin had been caught and was likely working alone, but just in case.-”

With that, Gwen nods and leaves, closely followed by Gwaine, who stops only to give Arthur a short, assessing gaze, before giving him a nod and leaving.

“-Leon, find the Steward, and George if you can. Find a set of chambers that can be reassigned to Merlin, and tell them to begin the process immediately. Not too big, he’d complain and refuse to use them but... oh you know what he’s like, I trust you’ll pick something to his... tastes.”

Leon gives Arthur another smile, before heading towards the door. Just before he can leave, Arthur calls out for him again:

“And if you could have a plate of food sent here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s eaten all day and we’ll need to get something down him when he wakes up.”

Leon nods, and leaves without another word. Arthur collapses back into his chair before looking at Gaius, and blushing at the fond smile on the older man’s face:

“What?”

Gaius just shakes his head as his smile grows:

“Nothing, my boy. I’m just glad you’re finally realising at least a little of what Merlin sacrifices for you.”

Arthur frowns and tilts his head:

“You mean there’s more he’s giving up than sleep, food, and any and all free time he has?”

Gaius drops his smile fractionally, but covers it quickly (not quick enough that Arthur didn’t notice however) :

“Hmm. Nothing that you need to worry yourself over, My Lord.”

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Well now I’m just going to worry about it even more. What is it Gaius? If you won’t tell me what the problem is, at least tell me the solution.”

Gaius settles a heavy, pensive gaze on Arthur, and stays silent for a few moments before answering slowly and quietly:

“A long time a go, I gave Merlin some... difficult, advice, pertaining to which secrets he should keep to himself. Perhaps when he wakes I shall rescind said advice. But ultimately, whether he tells you the true extent of his... well, truth, or not, is up to him. I advise you not to push him.”

Arthur huffs:

“So he’s hiding something from me?”

Gaius gives The King a sympathetic smile:

“He’s hiding a multitude of things from a multitude of people. There are very few people who know Merlin fully. His life has been... difficult, from birth, to such an extent that not even I’m aware of what’s going through his mind, the pain he suffers, and I live with him.-”

Gaius stops hesitantly, but Arthur nods for him to continue. He looks deeply troubled, before saying:

“All I can request Sire, is that, if he does decide that he trusts you enough to reveal himself fully, let him finish the story in it’s entirety before you start forming conclusions, and remember, that everything he does, he does for Camelot, for you.”

Arthur’s face shows slight confusion, but he nods firmly. He may not fully understand what on earth Gaius is talking about, but he has a feeling he’ll know it when he sees it. Plus, Merlin means a great deal to him, and the man obviously does a lot for him, the least Arthur can do in return is sit patiently and wait for Merlin to come to him with whatever truth Gaius thinks is so worrying.

It was late in the night when Merlin started to stir, only a few hours until sunrise.

Arthur and Gaius had both fallen asleep after checking over Merlin’s bandages. Gaius had settled in a cot in the corner of the room, and Arthur was curled up in his seat, Merlin’s hand clutched in his.

Arthur woke slowly at first, and then all at once, when he realised that Merlin’s hand was twitching in his own. He leaned forward on his seat, frowning, as he stroked Merlin’s forehead gently with his other hand.

Merlin’s eyes blinked open, as he muttered Arthur’s name. The King smiled gently, placing a comforting hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest, and squeezing his hand slightly:

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Merlin frowns slightly, before he gasps with wide eyes and tries to sit up. Arthur pushes back gently against his chest, and Merlin is far too weak to do anything about it as Arthur speaks quietly:

“No no no, you stay right there. You need to get better before you start rushing around again.”

Merlin frowns and begins to breath deeply:

“No, I don’t have the time Arthur, there’s too much I gotta do.”

He tries to sit up again, but Arthur holds him down, struggling to think of what to say to calm his manservant down before he did more damage to himself:

“No there isn’t. You can’t do anything when you’re sick and injured, alright?-”

At Merlin’s panicked expression, Arthur hurries to continue:

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Gwen spoke to the housekeeper about hiring some new servants to help. I’m going to get Percival to fix the leak in the stable later, Gwaine doesn’t need his sword for at least a few days, and to be perfectly honest, he can get it himself. The housekeeper will deal with the flowers, and Annabeth is fine, Gaius saw her earlier and sent her home for the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, ok?”

Merlin frowns, and blinks blearily, clearly beginning to lose his lucidity:

“Are you ok? The... assassin... looked pretty... pretty... serious...”

He trails off, but refuses to close his eyes, and lifts a shivering hand to loosely clasp Arthur’s wrist as Arthur replies:

“You haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, you’ve been smacked around and stabbed, and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

At Merlin’s once again panicked expression, Arthur sighs:

“Yes Merlin, I am one hundred percent ok, and so is everyone else. The assassin was caught, everyone is safe, and there’s nothing that you need to think about right now. Let go, get some sleep.”

Merlin frowns indignantly, and murmurs:

“I’ve already... slept too... long... gotta-”

Arthur huffs before interrupting him:

“Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. Go to sleep Merlin. I promise, I will wake you up if you are needed in any way... do... do you trust me?”

Merlin looks at him oddly, before his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp. Arthur just about hears the muttered-

“More that anyone.”

-before Merlin passes out once again, and after waiting a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t faking it (definitely something Merlin would do), he collapses back in his chair.

Merlin really was sick.

Arthur huffs with annoyance at himself, how had he not noticed this sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed it when he came to collect the laundry? Why hadn’t he given Merlin a day off when he got back from the lower-town? Though, knowing Merlin, he probably would’ve spent all day working anyway, even if it wasn’t directly for Arthur.

Arthur’s thoughts are racing so much that he knows he isn’t going to get back to sleep, but it was far too early in the day for anything official to get done; the city was asleep. And besides, even if there was something to be done, Arthur found himself exceedingly unwilling to let go of Merlin’s hand.

So sitting here and thinking was his only option it seemed.

Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon had come back around an hour after he had sent them away, and he was more than pleased with what they had to report.

The housekeeper had drafted up notices asking for permanent, paid, help in the castle, to be distributed in the lower-town tomorrow (or... later today).

Leon and the Steward had found a suitable set of chambers for Merlin, about halfway between Arthur’s and Gaius’, small compared to Arthur’s rooms, but still bigger than the footprint of Merlin’s house back in Ealdor.

Arthur hadn’t managed to get any food in Merlin when he briefly woke up, but the plate that Leon had sent up still sat their waiting, and it would be ready when Merlin was lucid enough to eat.

Arthur was still very worried about the man he had grown to trust more than even himself, but he also trusted Gaius, and if Gaius wasn’t freaking out, then neither would Arthur.

The next few days were... difficult, to say the least.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Merlin to stay in bed, and even a few sleeping draughts slipped into his tea, courtesy of Gaius.

Merlin was also getting increasingly annoyed at all of his friends visiting him, and treating him like he was made of glass.

He was getting desperate to leave the Physician’s chambers and get some work done, and Gaius was not best pleased when he caught the man trying to sneak out.

Gaius sternly told him to sit down and shut up for a minute whilst he explained why exactly he can’t get out of bed yet, and Merlin reluctantly sat back down, nodding at Gaius to start talking:

“Merlin, you hadn’t slept at all in at least seventy-two hours. You hadn’t slept well for the several weeks before that. You hadn’t eaten all day, and I imagine that you hadn’t eaten properly, again, for the several weeks before. You had a mild concussion and fractured collarbone, courtesy of Lord Anselm. Bruises on your hands from gods know what. Balance and dizziness issues caused by being medically exhausted. You are stressed far beyond levels that are even vaguely healthy. All of this, before you sustained a serious stab wound. Merlin, you had a panic attack, yesterday, over not being able to fix a leak. You can not keep working like this, or you will burn yourself out again, and then where will we be? You are of no use to anyone if you drop dead. So will you please, just trust that Arthur has things handled just fine without you.”

Merlin had the decency to look a little ashamed at first, but rolls his eyes when Gaius mentions Arthur:

“That man never has anything handled. Gods know how he’s even managed to get dressed the last few days.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, an obvious “I dare you to argue with me right now” look if Merlin has ever seen one.

Merlin huffs before climbing fully back into his bed (still in the Physician’s chambers. Gaius advised against telling Merlin of all the changes that were happening until after he was better, otherwise he would... simply put, he would freak) and looking to his lap, frowning.

Gaius sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s least-injured shoulder:

“Be patient, Merlin. You fail to realise how many people care about you, and how much. We would be devastated to lose you, it’s hard enough to see you suffer like this. So let yourself heal fully, if not for yourself, then for us.”

Merlin looks up at him tiredly (everything seems to tire him out at the moment) with tears in his eyes and Gaius leans forward to gather the boy in a hug.

Merlin falls into it easily, and buries his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck as the older man runs a hand through his hair. He sniffles slightly, before mumbling:

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius smiles sadly, not that Merlin can see it, before replying quietly:

“No need to apologise my boy, just get some sleep. I believe that Guinevere will be joining us for dinner later.”

Merlin nods before removing himself from Gaius’ arms, and settling back under the covers. He shifts until he’s comfortable, and whispers a soft goodnight (I mean... it’s the middle of the afternoon but he’s sleeping the nights and days away at the moment), before drifting off.

Gaius sighs once more, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

They had a long way to go. Physically, Merlin was well on his way to healing, but emotionally... well. He had a father-figure physician, a fellow servant, five boisterous but loving knights, and a King who may or may not be in love with him.

He’d get there. He just needed a little more time.

THE END

Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I had fun writing it! It kept getting longer and longer and I almost split it into two, but I just decided to go for it in the end.

I hope y’all enjoy! Same as always, you wanna write it up with proper paragraphs and extend it and everything, go for it, credit and tag me :)

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular!

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keilemlucent · 3 years ago

Text

(nsfw) ✧ (dark content warnings) ✧ (minors do not interact)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere, vomit due to illness, delusion, reader is definitely not mentally well, brief description of injury, hawks is Not nice in this, reader has difficulty eating,

a/n: uhhh it’s 2am, time to post dark drabble lol!! i love like.... deep yandere stuff. when darling’s already been In It for awhile and worn down. mwah. chefs. kiss. anyways, here’s my take!

You want to know what rain tastes like.

Is it different than water from the tap? You had asked him one day. He chuckled but didn’t give you an answer. Just an easy deflection, something unrelated to pull your mind from the outside.

It is easier this way.

It’s so much easier to draw the curtains in the morning. Damn the sun, damn the light— You can take vitamin D supplements and pretend you don’t mind how dark the apartment is no matter the time of day.

It’s easier to ignore the multiple locks (seven. you count them sometimes to pass the time) that are bolted into the door. The time it takes him to open them with all their tumbling gears and thundering clicks is the preamble to his comings and goings.

You know to rise from your damn-near sacred spot on the couch to greet him. You go to him with a kiss on his cheek, and to give him hug so hard, it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s from the strain of your arms around his, or the pressure of his embrace around you. You don’t particularly mind either way. It’s the reminder you need that as empty and dark as the apartment is, he’ll always return.

Always.

You lock your hands behind his back, clasped below his wings. Routinely, you bury your face in his chest while he sways you. He asks about your day, but he isn’t listening. You don’t think so, but you don’t mind. Nothing you say means much, and every day is the same. You sit on the couch and stare at the floor. The walls. The ceiling if you’re feeling more adventurous.

You stopped watching TV alone months ago. No matter what you watched on Keigo’s big, sleek television, it was just a reminder. An awful, unavoidable reminder that the world is quite large, and you weren’t apart of it.

You couldn’t be. You were locked in place— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — in the little apartment. Wasting away, as much as you tried not to.

...

“You need to eat, baby,” Keigo coax. He holds a deep spoonful of soup to your lips. It smells divine, like chives and cream. “Just a little. For me?”

‘For me.’

Your inability to stomach anything is his problem, just as much as it is yours. That’s just a fact.

“I don’t want to get sick again,” You squeeze your hands. There is a semblance of comfort in the action as Keigo inspects you. Searching.

It isn’t a lie. Your stomach growls and rolls, and it has been all day. Keigo has started to always leave ample leftovers in the fridge in the case you’d actually want to eat them. And you do. Sometimes, you even try! Really try. But the end result is always the same. Your head ends up dangling over the bowl of your toilet while you wretch and writhe.

Acid stings your throat for hours.

Despite Keigo’s... previous treatment, he seems genuinely concerned about this development. You’re hardly able to keep anything down, despite being well otherwise.

(You’re so unwell and have been for so long, he can’t begin to see it. The bruises are perpetual. The scars that you didn’t have a year ago are fixtures he can’t remember you without. The constant tremble you carry is from the drafty apartment, not from the deeply instilled fear you carry. The one he had branded (literally) onto you. Into you.)

(Fucker.)

You shake the thought off and open your mouth and accept the bite. And Keigo, bless his heart, is sweet enough to not shove the spoon to the back of your throat. He lets you suck the soup from it, quietly praising your work.

You manage to eat half the bowl before shaking your head, tummy already twisting in the worst, most familiar way.

Keigo gives you pills then. Four of them, all slightly different colors and shapes. You don’t know what they do, and you knew better than to ask (you’d gotten slapped across the face the first and only time you tried.)

The fourth pill is new, and Keigo, graciously, tells you that it’s for the nausea. That a special doctor is helping him help you. Isn’t that wonderful?

You’re so, so lucky.

(You hurl the next morning once the meds wear off. Your hands shake and your slam your fist into your temples. Begging. You’re not sure to who. Maybe to yourself. Your body. Crying for your wretched form to just stop hurting you. If you weren’t sick, things would be better.

Maybe, you’re begging Keigo. For help. To make it stop. To take care of you and coo that things will be fine as things are so completely not find that you can’t comprehend it. But he is the one who decides when you hurt. Shouldn’t he be able to make this stop?

Maybe you’re begging him to unlatch those — one, two, three, four, five, six— seven locks so you could dash into the world. Scream at the first person you see that beloved, pro-hero Hawks is so beyond deranged and fucked up. Maybe no civilian would believe you. But you were the evidence. You bore the slashes of his feathers. The perpetual imprint of his fingers on hips and thighs. You even had a brand on the bottom of your foot. K-E-I-G-O.

Maybe, you’re begging to whatever god you once believed in to kill you. You don’t care about the means. Be it your hand, or Keigo’s, or random chance.)

You spew into the murky water and try to forget.

...

Keigo’s special doctor comes by. You see the two exchange hands by the door when she first arrives. A flash of bills and coins. Paid off, part of you perks up. The doctor won’t talk about Hawks’ little captive. You’re sure it’s a handsome amount, based on the neutrality of her expression as she takes you in.

To care so little about something like you is hardly a surprise.

She examines you, collects some blood and other samples. Prescribes a few more medicines that have long and complicated names that are hard to pronounce. You try to forget them. You’re happy to be quiet. Sit next to Keigo while he wraps a wing around you and rubs your back in little circles. He’s warm and good, unlike the rot in your stomach.

Keigo praises you once she leaves, wrapping you up in him, scarlet feathers and all. Kisses your cheeks, telling you how well you did. How you didn’t falter, didn’t scream, didn’t let her touch you too much. How you were so perfect for him. You deserve a reward!

He treats you to fresh sheets and more kisses. The kind that feels like how lovers are supposed to kiss. There isn’t too much teeth or tongue, just slow, open-mouthed pressing that makes your tummy flutter in a good way (for once.)

“Isn’t this nice?” Keigo hums against your lips.

You nod, barely eager but not apprehensive either. Treading lightly on a carefully, self-cultivated path between wanting and revulsion. As good as it feels, you don’t want to give him. You don’t remember how.

His lips trail to your neck, to your collarbones. He pushes up your shirt and only leaves little pecks over your nipples and chest. No wounds that draw blood. No hickeys that last weeks.

You don’t realize you start trembling until Keigo has to grip your inner thighs to still you. So, he can coo blessed, little reminders.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I always make you feel so good.”

“You deserve this, all of this,” he says before pressing his lips to your clit. You’re just wet enough for him to fuck you on his fingers. Enough that when he bullies the bundle of nerves inside you, you coat his fingers in slick and whine. Your voice breaks, over and over, and little, unwanted tears leak into your hairline.

Keigo ignores them as usual. You can be so dramatic.

And Keigo, ever gracious, let’s you shatter on his fingers. Doesn’t make you beg, just whispered hushed adorations as you come undone on his tongue. He hardly toys with you after, and instead lets you fall into the sheets. Properly spend, though not exhausted.

You still shake, but that’s okay. It’s manageable.

Keigo cleans you up with a silken cloth. He wipes between the swell of your breasts, down your navel and to your cunt. His feathers ruffle as he does his work, clearly focused. There’s no speaking during it, only watching and observing.

“Thank you.” You speak without prompting.

Your words are dry and underused. Your lips feel chapped, and your vision is hazy in the dark of the bedroom.

Keigo gives you a smile (full of white-hot pride), clicking his tongue, “Of course, dovey. You deserve to feel good for me. I want you to. I like you like this.”

(He carries that same sentiment that no matter your ‘post-fuck’ state. Whether you’re twitching and dumb from overstimulation. Whether you’re bawling from pain and holding your hand over a too deep, ‘accidental’ wound. Whether your expression is blank, lips ajar, and face tilted to the ceiling.)

You can only agree with him.

What other option do you have?

...

(The doctor calls the following week. Keigo speaks to her in hushed tones from his office, muffled and stern. You only catch pieces of it.

“They do not appear to be suffering from anything specific illness.” The doctor pauses. “The weakness, fatigue, shakiness, forgetfulness, and nausea all seem to be tied back to prolonged anxiety. Constant surges of adrenaline that have pushed them to this point.”

Keigo doesn’t bother asking the source.

He knows it.

(And honestly? He seems a little proud.)

You return to settle on the couch. Ever practiced, you turn towards the door and find the locks.

One, two, three four—

That four one wouldn’t be too hard to pick, would it?

(You’d already tried months ago. It was just a chain lock, but Keigo had nearly snapped your wrist when he caught you trying to tamper with it.)

Five, six, seven—

Your stomach rolls and your hug your knees, still managing a smile when Keigo rejoins you. His wings flex, and he flashes you a golden smile. His phone is locked and in his hand, and you know he’ll ignore it for the night. He’ll wrap you in his arms and smother you with his wings.

It’s better this way, you remind yourself, turning from the locks.

#salem writes #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark content #tw yandere #tw vomit #it's vomit from illness btw #tw self injury #please lemme know if i miss a tag #hawks x reader #yandere hawks #i might delete this or repost to my side blog sdklfjla #we will see #for now it is here

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cinebration · 4 years ago

Text

Prophetic Fucking Visions (Alfie Solomons x Reader) [One-shot]

Prompt: “Am I not good enough?” / “I’m not good enough.”

For @writeroutoftime! I had so much fun writing this! I was nervous, because I love Alfie so much and felt I couldn’t write him, but here we are. I hope you like it!

Warnings: blood and guts, seagull death

Gif Source: cillianmurphyss

You first met Alfie on the shore, though you were in the sand and he was above you on the bluff. A gunshot exploded above your head.

Curses spewed out of you as you ducked, your heart pounding in your chest. A seagull went down in a puff of feathers, blood splattering onto your hair.

You swore loudly.

Alfie’s grizzled face peered over the bluff, eyes squinting down at you. “Fuck me, that’s a woman.”

Shading your eyes against the sun, you glared up at him. “What gave it away?”

“Not your fuckin’ sailor’s mouth,” he boomed at you.

If only I had a sailor’s fist, I’d knock you down, you thought.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean for all that shit on ya. Come on up and get yourself cleaned up.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know him, and he still had the pistol in his hand. “I’ll manage,” you called up.

“Fuck me, you want me to throw down a rag instead?”

It was better than walking back into town with seagull oozing down your face. “If you please.”

“Awright,” Alfie croaked, disappearing.

After five minutes of waiting, the sun starting to beat down on you, you decided the rag wasn’t worth waiting for. You resumed your walk across the beach.

“Woman!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice. Alfie lumbered across the sand toward you, a small towel clutched in one broad hand. You stared at him. The man seemed to be a bear, shoulders slightly hunched as he made his way to you.

The horrid scar on the left side of his face and the milky blue eye drew your attention last. The other eye searched your face as he at last stopped before you and extended the cloth.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, taking it from him and roughing it over your hair.

“Not seen you around these parts, Sailor Mouth.”

You arched your eyebrows. “Sailor Mouth?”

“Got nothin’ else to call you ’til you give me your name.”

“And what would I call you?”

“The Wandering Jew.”

Your eyebrows arched higher, but you kept quiet. Raking the towel over your hair and ears one last time, you asked, “Did I get it all?”

Lips pressing together, he surveyed your head. Taking the towel from your hand, he swiped it along your forehead and then down the back of your neck, wiping away the last of the gunk. He grunted his approval.

“Thank you,” you repeated.

“For getting seagull guts all over you? That’s bad luck, that is.”

A rueful chuckle slipped past your lips. “Call me Bad Luck Sailor Mouth.”

Alfie’s good eye glimmered.

“I do the odd thing here and there. Nothing too respectable,” you said with a laugh.

Alfie walked alongside you on the beach. You had chanced upon him a week after the seagull incident. He had struck up a friendly, albeit strange conversation with you before you had been forced to return back to town.

This was the fourth such meeting. It seemed he had been waiting for you this time. You only walked the beach once a week, not always on the same day, so he must have waited each day to see if you’d walk by.

“I used to make bread,” he said. “It isn’t too respectable neither.”

“Well, I’m sure real bakers would abhor liquid bread.”

He looked at you sharply.

“Your reputation precedes you,” you informed him. “It seems you’re a god down in Camden Town.”

He grunted. “I was resurrected.”

“And I was swallowed into the whale’s belly.”

He laughed. “That where you got your sailor’s mouth, is it?”

“More like my bad luck.”

He looked at you with that unblinking stare of his. It disconcerted you less and less the more you saw it. He seemed to be fixing it on you more frequently, though you couldn’t understand why. You felt scrutinized, a not altogether unpleasant feeling from him.

“You eat?” he asked.

“What, whales? That’s not how I got out of that mess.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly in the setting sun. “Dinner.”

“Sure, if you have whale to spare.”

“No whale, I fuckin’ hate fish.”

“I suppose that’s alright. It’d just taste like bad luck.”

Alfie lumbered off in the direction of his home. You managed to keep pace with him, his stride long but unhurried. A light breeze blew off the sea, tickling your cheeks with sea spray even at a distance. Ominous clouds gathered on the horizon, the distant breakers foaming white as the wind whipped them into a frenzy.

Alfie refused to let you help in the kitchen. You followed him into it anyway, watched him work. He had put a chicken in his oven earlier. You gathered he had hoped to have you over for dinner—had probably prepared a special meal every day until you arrived.

“On occasion,” he informed you, “I did make real bread.” He set a basket full of it before you.

You plucked off a small roll and began to eat it as you waited for him to finish roasting some vegetables. “A chicken, huh?”

“The seagull I shot didn’t keep. It was a stringy bastard.”

You laughed, the sound filling the space over the sizzle of the stove.

You enjoyed every bite of dinner. Alfie watched you with interest as you ate your fill.

“What’s a woman like you doin’ here in Margate? Why aren’t you in London or someplace?”

“Too big and noisy.” You shrugged. “Nobody gets seagull in my hair or shoots at boats for fun. I guess they only do that to people.”

“Ah, well, I’ve done that. Shot people.”

You lifted your head to see him staring at you. “For business or…?”

He leaned back in his chair, appraising you. “A bit of both.”

You nodded and resumed eating. Your inquiries about him after your first meeting had told you that much about him.

Dessert was succulent fruit. Alfie had fallen into silence, not quite brooding but definitely pensive. He directed you into the living room, the open balcony doors overlooking the ocean. The storm approached, a mild rain beginning to fall.

It reminded you of the rainy days of your childhood. Your mother would stoke the hearth fire and spin yarns to while away the hours.

The weather and Alfie’s unusually subdued demeanor pulled you down into a somber mood.

“My mother told me a story once,” you murmured, “one I’ve never forgotten. It goes like this. A young man meets a beautiful woman—the woman of his dreams, he thinks—who always treats him well but never responds to his advances. He watches her from afar, watching as other men try to woo her. She treats them coldly. He thinks to himself, ‘She must love me. She treats me better than them.’ But try as he might, with flowers and sweets and pretty words, he can’t get her to acknowledge her feelings.

“So one day, he asks, desperate, ‘Am I not good enough?’ And she says, ‘I’m not good enough. I’d make a poor wife. I’ll never be the woman in your dreams.’ He protests, but she tells him, ‘I have a temper, and I speak my mind. I wake ill-humored and have days where it feels like the whole sky is gray and nothing can lift it. My smile is fake, and I hate this place.’

“He realizes with a broken heart that she is not the woman he believed her to be, and he leaves her.”

Silence descended on you both.

“I hate that story,” you hissed quietly. “It doesn’t tell you that he drinks too much and stays out late, that he would make an equally poor husband. He isn’t the man of her dreams either. Neither is enough alone, but together, they can be.”

Alfie shifted in his seat. The creak of his chair drew your attention. A deep furrow scored his brow. “Dreams, yeah?” The tension in his voice sent a shiver through you.

“Yeah,” you echoed.

“I’ve been having these dreams lately, see. They’ve got this woman in it, yeah, but I can’t see her face. She could be anyone. In these dreams, she asks me a question, right? And I know in that moment she will be my death.” He looked at you, unblinking. “You’ve got a question for me, yeah?”

You met his gaze. It was the question you hadn’t asked when he had introduced himself. “What did you do to condemn yourself to be the wandering Jew?”

He stilled. The waves crashed on the shore beyond the window, seagulls shrieking overhead.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “That’s it.”

“Any woman could’ve asked that.”

“They would’ve asked, ‘Why do you call yourself that? What’s it mean?’ But you know what it means, so you asked the right question.”

“How will I be your death, then?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Thunder pealed, shaking the windows.

“Should I leave?”

“Did I say that? I came to Margate to fucking die, yeah? I’d rather someone love me to death than this fucking cancer.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’m not the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re right,” he growled. “I don’t have dreams. I have prophetic fucking visions. So are ya gonna fuckin’ kiss me or wot, Sailor Mouth?”

“You bet your fucking ass I am.”

#Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #Peaky Blinders #woot1kchallenge #request

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beifongsss · 4 years ago

Text

flirt [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x earthbender!reader baybeeeeee

Summary: An anon request <3 “ zuko and a super outgoing/confident/flirty reader? all the fics i’ve seen so far are super shy reader x zuko, they’re super cute, just not very relatable to me lol”

i hope i do your request justice :3 also i’m sorry that I keep making the reader a bender but this fits bc they have to fight Zuko lol

.masterlist.

You don’t even know how you ended up traveling with the Gaang.

One day you had been living in a small Earth Kingdom town, helping out the Beifongs as Toph’s etiquette tutor and the next, you found yourself being tugged away from your home by the youngest Beifong. You couldn’t deny the fact that you finally felt free flying on the (abnormally cute) sky bison as you headed to who-knows-where.

You had nothing left for you back in the Earth Kingdom town you had been born in. You were the only daughter of a well-known family who had always been loyal to the Earth King. Unfortunately, they had been captured on a trip to Ba Sing Se and subsequently killed by the Fire Nation. With no family left to turn to, you proceeded to accept the Beifong’s offer to stay with them in return for you teaching Toph about high class etiquette.

Toph was an interesting girl and you found yourself being impressed with everything she did. You were always her number one supporter, especially when it came to her being The Blind Bandit. She was an extremely talented bender and in return for you tutoring her, she was your bending instructor and you became her only most promising student.

Eventually, Aang, Katara, and Sokka all filled you in about the banished Fire Nation prince and how he had chased the Gaang everywhere they had gone in an attempt to capture the Avatar. You and Toph were upset at the stories and were immediately anti-Zuko, promising to help Aang master earthbending as fast as possible.

You got along well with everyone, especially Sokka who was almost as talkative as you were. Of course the good vibes didn’t last long and you all found yourselves arguing as you found yourselves being chased by Azula and her friends. The situation had culminated in a battle at a small, abandoned town. You had arrived to see Aang being cornered by two people, each of them throwing fire towards the young Air Nomad.

Engaging with the person closest to you, you thrust your hands out, shooting a pillar of earth out and tossing the person into the closest building. Sharing a look with Aang, you waved him off. “Go! I’ll hold him off.”

“Be careful,” Aang warned, looking towards Azula uncertainly. “That’s Zuko.”

Your eyes widened as Aang ran off before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you. He struggled to get up before a burst of fire left him, sending rock debris everywhere. Quickly, you sent up another wall of earth, protecting yourself from the flying rocks before breaking it apart and sending it towards Zuko. The banished prince grunted before throwing a few fireballs towards you, causing you to stumble back and fall.

Eyes narrowing, Zuko made his way to you, pulling back his fist as fire formed around it. Groaning, you sat up, finally getting a good look at the boy in front of you. Almost immediately, a flirty smirk made it’s way onto your face. You quickly scrambled to your feet, bouncing up to him without any hesitation. You dodged his attacks, fighting back as you bit your lip.

“So...you’re Zuko?” you asked, dodging another punch. At this point, you were engaging in hand to hand combat instead of relying on your earthbending. Zuko didn’t reply, his eyes narrowing as he kept sending blasts of fire again.

“Aang told us about how you haven’t been able to capture him,” you continued, blinking innocently as Zuko became visibly angry. “But he failed to mention just how handsome you are.”

At your words, Zuko’s eyes widened and he misstepped, losing his focus at your words. You took that opportunity to step back as well before taking a strong step and raising your hands, encasing the banished prince in a slab of rock.

“Let me go!” Zuko cried out, steam coming out of his nose as he struggled. You stood in front of him, arms crossed as you stared at him. He truly was handsome, with piercing gold eyes and soft-looking black hair. You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Sokka.

“(Y/N)! A little help here?” the Water Tribe boy yelped, narrowly dodging a blast of blue fire from Azula.

“Coming!” you replied, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern before you addressed Zuko once more. “It was real nice meeting you Prince Zuko. I hope to see you again under more pleasurable circumstances.”

With a wink, you sprinted away, jumping in front of Sokka and sending up a wall of earth as Azula struck again. You continued to sprint around, helping out whenever called out to you. The fight came to an end when you all had Azula cornered, and you sent a brief smirk to Zuko as you saw him standing near you. “Finally made it out huh?”

He had glowered at you and you simply rolled your eyes before turning back to Azula. “The whole tough guy act is hot but something tells me you’d look better with a smile.”

You missed his surprised look as Azula shot a blast of fire towards an older man, who you later learned was Zuko’s uncle Iroh. In the ensuing chaos she escaped, and you were left with a shaken Zuko and an injured Iroh. At Zuko’s threats insistence, the five of you left, looking back at him as you flew off on Appa. It was silent for a few minutes before you finally spoke up. “So, why didn’t you guys mention that Prince Zuko is hot?”

The only sound that was heard was Sokka slapping his forehead.

The next time you saw Zuko was in Ba Sing Se. You had been walking around with Katara, having stayed behind with her to plan the invasion. She was talking quietly as you looked around the city, pretending to be listening to her. On your shoulder, Momo was chattering quietly, also looking around with his large eyes.

You sighed softly as you entered a cozy-looking tea shop. You looked around in appreciation before you heard Katara gasp. Quickly, she grabbed your hand and whirled around hurrying out of the shop. You felt yourself crash into someone else, losing Katara’s hand and falling to the ground. You looked at the door before looking at Momo, shaking your head at Katara’s weird behavior.

“Are you alright?” a soft voice ask. You pushed yourself up, ignoring the hand in front of you before looking up. Your eyes widened in surprise as you found yourself staring at Zuko’s uncle. Iroh, you recalled vaguely. Recognition flashed in his eyes as he looked at you, remembering you as the earthbender who had trapped his nephew. Bracing yourself for the worst possible scenario, you nodded in response to his question, holding Momo to your chest.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” the retired general asked, a warm smile on his face as he guided you to a table. “You look like a jasmine type of girl.”

Sensing no ill intentions from the smiling man, you nodded. “Jasmine happens to be my favorite.”

“I see. It is my nephew’s favorite as well,” Iroh continued, gesturing to the boy behind the counter. You smiled as you noticed Zuko standing behind the counter, his back to you as he focused on whatever he was doing. Noticing your smile at the sight of his nephew, Iroh smiled as well. “I’ll send him over to give you your tea.”

“I would greatly appreciate that,” you said, your eyes not leaving the handsome boy.

You played with Momo when Iroh left, silently speaking to the winged lemur as you waited for your tea. You placed Momo in your lap when you heard someone set down a tray on your table, looking up to see Zuko standing there. “Hey handsome.”

Zuko glanced at you, doing a double take when his eyes met yours. “Y-You!”

He grasped your hand, pulling you out of your seat and towards the back as you struggled to hold on to Momo.

“Ow! Ow! Can you stop?” you hissed, pulling your hand away from him. You placed Momo on your shoulder before rubbing your wrist. You glanced down at it, noticing how raw it looked. “You really need to learn how to control your temper Zuko.”

“What happened here?” Iroh’s asked before Zuko could speak again. He gently took your hand in his inspecting the burn before turning to his nephew. “Now Lee, is this any way to treat our customers?”

“She isn’t a customer uncle,” Zuko replied bluntly. “She’s traveling with the Avatar. She is the earthbender who fought me the day you were injured.”

“You’re the earthbender who trapped my nephew?” Iroh looked at you in surprise. You nodded, causing the older man to chuckle. “You are a very talented bender.”

You blushed at the compliment before answering, thinking about Toph. “Thank you, I was trained by the best.”

“We must get this wrapped up. Come with me,” Iroh led you to a back room, where he proceeded to get some type of salve and some wrappings. “Zuko if you could please do this for me, I’m afraid I have to get back to the customers.”

Iroh left the two of you, but not before stopping and handing Momo a few litchi nuts. Momo chittered before jumping off your shoulder, landing on a windowsill as he began eating the fruit. You glanced at the burn once more before looking back at Zuko. “You know, you just gave the term ‘too hot to handle’ a whole new meaning.”

Zuko tried to hold his blush back at your words as he sat in front of you. He grabbed your arm, applying the paste and then gathering the wrappings, beginning to tie them around your wrist.

You hissed when he tightened it a little too much, pulling away from the boy. “Ow! If I wanted you to be rough with me I would’ve told you.”

This time, Zuko could not hold his blush at your double entendre. A faint smirk appeared on your face as you began to wrap your wrist.

“Let me do it,” Zuko muttered reaching for your arm.

“No,” you replied leaning away. “Trust me I can do it myself.”

“Why are you being so difficult,” the boy groaned, lunging for the wrapping. You leaned back too far, falling onto your back as you reached out for something to grab on to. The only thing you succeeded in doing was pulling Zuko down with you.

You stared at the boy above you. “When I told you that I hope we’d meet under more pleasurable circumstances, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Not that I’m complaining.”

Zuko stuttered for a few second before deciding to scowl at you instead.

“If I had known I was interrupting, I would’ve stayed outside. Prince Zuko, I never knew you were so good with the ladies,” Iroh’s voice floated in. You sat up immediately, only succeeding in getting closer to the prince. You tried to ignore the blush that you knew was visible on your cheeks.

“I would be honored to be wooed by such an attractive man,” you said, looking up at Zuko through your eyelashes. Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I simply fell back and pulled your nephew down with me.”

“Well, as an apology on his behalf from earlier, let me offer you a nice warm cup of jasmine tea,” Iroh said, setting down a tray. “On the house.”

You smiled as you pulled yourself up, leaving Zuko on the ground. “It smells delicious but I am afraid I must get going. Katara must be wondering where I am. Thank you very much for the offer.”

You bowed before whistling sharply, causing Momo to fly to your shoulder.

“My nephew will walk you out. It was nice to met you...” Iroh trailed off as he realized that he had never asked for your name.

“My name is (Y/N),” you supplied, smiling.

“A truly beautiful name,” Iroh said, stepping away from the door. “It was nice to meet you (Y/N). I hope to see you again soon. Zuko, please walk her out.”

You bowed once more before you followed Zuko back out to the store. When you reached the steps, you turned around and faced him once more. “It was nice to see you again handsome. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Zuko’s reply was lost as you stepped forward, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “Have a nice evening.”

Momo’s chittering was the only thing that could be heard as you walked away. Zuko stood on the steps until he could no longer see you, the blush on his cheeks only intensifying when he remembered how your lips felt pressed against his cheek.

“It seems to me that she is the one wooing you,” Iroh said, hiding a smile.

“Shut up uncle.”

You didn’t see the handsome prince again until you had all safely escaped to the Western Air Temple. You had been trying to talk to Aang about learning firebending when you and Toph had felt someone arriving.

“Aang, I think we should be making some plans about our future!” Sokka exclaimed, trying to get Aang to pay attention.

“Okay, we can do that while I show you the giant Pai Sho table! Oh, you're gonna love the all-day echo chamber!” the air nomad replied, already preparing to run off.

Aang came to an abrupt stop when you sent up a wall of earth in front of him.

“I think that’ll have to wait,” Toph said, turning to face the newcomer.

“Hello, Zuko here,” the prince said, raising his arms up in greeting. Immediately, everyone except you took a fighting stance. You didn’t really pay attention to most of the conversation, too busy staring at Zuko’s hair. It had grown out some and to be honest, you thought it looked really good.

“Wait,” you interrupted, stepping forward slightly. “You look really good with your hair like that. Not to say you didn’t look good before but this, wow. you’re even hotter.”

“(Y/N)!” Sokka and Katara exclaimed at the same time. Sokka pulled you back before smacking you lightly. You smacked him back, the two of you bickering nonstop. You missed Zuko’s bewildered expression, along with most of the conversation.

“There's no way we can trust you after everything you've done,” Aang spoke, catching your attention. “We'll never let you join us.”

“You need to get out of here,” Katara added, a hard expression on her face. “Now.”

Zuko looked at you, his eyes pleading.

You sighed before speaking, your arms raised in surrender. “Look, I think you’re probably the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen-”

“Hey!” Sokka cried indignantly.

You ignored him. “But to be fair, you did send an assassin after us. Not to mention everything else you’ve done. I can’t help you handsome.”

“If you won't accept me as a friend, then maybe you'll take me as a prisoner,” Zuko said, kneeling with his hands out. You looked at Katara, a suggestive smirk on your face.

“(Y/N), stop,” she sighed before turning back to Zuko and bending some water. “No, we won't! Get out of here, and don't come back! And if we ever see you again, well, we'd better not see you again!”

Zuko bowed his head and turned to walk away, glancing back once more. For once, you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Has anyone seen Toph,” you asked as you rushed into the courtyard. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

“I haven’t seen her since she stormed off yesterday,” Sokka said, polishing his sword.

“Maybe we should go look for her,” Katara said, noticing your distress.

“We’ll look for her!” The Duke said, rushing off with Haru and Teo.

You whirled around when you heard a loud rumble, only to see a gaping hole in the wall. Toph tumbled out of it, her eyes wide.

“Toph!” you exclaimed, wrapping her up in a hug. “What happened?”

“My feet got burned,” she replied, pushing you off of her.

Her feet were an angry red and you felt your anger rise up as you realized who had done it. “The next time I see Zuko I swear to the spirits that I will-”

“It was an accident,” Toph interrupted you, placing a hand on your arm. You bit your lip as Sokka carried her over to the fountain.

“Ah that’s the stuff,” Toph said, closing her eyes as she dipped her feet in. Soka opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off by an explosion. Being the closest to the source, you were flung back, metal and stone landing on top of you.

“(Y/N)!” you heard Aang yell as everyone else ran away.

“I’m fine!” you called back. “Go I’ll be okay.”

You bended as much earth as you could away from you, only to still be stuck when you realized you couldn’t move the metal.

“We have to get (Y/N),” Toph said, worriedly grabbing onto Katara.

“We will. Hold on,” Sokka said, staring at the blasts Combustion Man was sending their way. After a few more blasts, he was able to tell where he was and aimed his boomerang. The boomerang met it’s mark and they all ran out, Sokka and Toph immediately going over to you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks Zuko,” Aang spoke softly.

“Hey! What about me?” Sokka asked, helping you up. Your leg was injured but luckily nothing had been broken. Sokka was fussing over you, looking at the nasty bruise that had been left from the metal and you were trying to push him away, claiming that you didn’t need his help.

“...I’d like for you to teach me,” Aang’s words gained yours and Sokka’s attention. Zuko bowed.

“Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group.”

“Not so fast,” Aang said. “I still have to ask my friends if it's okay with them. Toph, you're the one that Zuko burned. What do you think?”

“Go ahead and let him join,” Toph said as the pounded her fist into her palm. “It'll give me plenty of time to get back at him for burning my feet.”

“Sokka?” Aang asked.

“Hey, all I want is to defeat the Fire Lord,” the Water Tribe Boy shrugged. “If you think this is the way to do it, then, I'm all for it.“

“Katara?”

“I'll go along with whatever you think is right,” she said simply, glaring at Zuko.

“What about you (Y/N)?” Aang asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

“You’re telling me I’m going to have to see him every day?” you asked, gesturing towards Zuko. “That sounds like a dream come true.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said, redder than a tomato. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” you replied. Groans were heard from everyone else.

~ “Come on (Y/N)!” Toph yelled at you. “Do it!”

You stared at the metal in front of you, trying to concentrate on it. You were in the courtyard, a few days after Combustion Man’s downfall. Zuko and Aang were firebending a few feet away from where Toph was trying to teach you how to metalbend. Ever since you had gotten trapped, she had been insistent on teaching you.

With a loud huff, you closed your eyes. You reached out focuising as much as you could and turning the pieces of metal in front of you into smooth, shiny balls. You opened your eyes when you heard clapping, turning to see Aang cheering softly for you. Zuko stood behind him, shirtless.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Toph taunted, bending the balls of metal back into scraps. “Do it again. This time concentrate harder. I don’t know why you’re so distracted today.”

“You don’t know why I’m distracted?” you said turning to face Aang and Zuko. “Prince Handsome over here is training shirtless and you expect me to not be distracted by that?”

“I don’t get distracted by that,” Toph countered.

“Of course not,” you said, facing her again. “You’re blind.”

Aang snickered and Zuko coughed as he tried to choke back his laughter.

“Do it again,” Toph barked. “Zuko come stand next to me.”

Zuko complied and crossed his arms as he stood next to Toph. You found yourself blushing lightly as you stared at the way his arms flexed before focusing on the metal once more. You struggled for a few minutes, feeling Zuko’s eyes on you. You glanced at him once more, watching his arms flex once again as he shifted in place. Looking up at his face, you saw him already looking at you, a smirk on his face.

You looked back at the metal trying not to look at the prince again. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

It wasn’t until Ember Island that you got to spend more time around Zuko. After the day Toph had made him stand next to her as she trained you, you made sure to train as far as you could possibly get from the prince. That didn’t stop you from flirting with him every other chance you had though, always commenting on how you couldn’t train around him because he made you flustered.

Your comments seemed to make him equally, if not more, flustered.

The day you guys went to see the play, you had sat next to him, intertwining your fingers when the lights went off. He had stiffened up, an unreadable look on his face when he felt your hand in his. Thinking he had been uncomfortable, you pulled back your hand, only to blush when he pulled it back towards him this time taking it upon himself to intertwine your fingers.

Your hands remained intertwined for the rest of the play, even when you exited the private box for the intermission. You didn’t miss the smug looks from everyone else and while Zuko blushed, you had simply leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek the same way you had back in Ba Sing Se.

When the second half of the play started, you proceeded to lean on Zuko, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. His heart racing, Zuko disconnected your hands before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. You closed your eyes as you leaned into him, enjoying the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

The next few days were spent watching Aang and Zuko training as you lounged around the beach house. You spent most of your time with Toph as she kept drilling metalbending into you until you could do it with your eyes closed.

A few nights before Sozin’s comet, you found yourself sitting on the roof of the house, staring up at the moon. You jumped slightly when you felt someone sitting next to you, the warmth emitting from them telling you it was Zuko.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, his eyes never leaving you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you hummed, still looking at the moon. You looked at him to see him scowling. “I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to look at the moon.”

“Sokka’s first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko said, fidgeting under your gaze.

“That’s rough,” you said, looking back up.

It was silent for a few minutes before Zuko spoke up again. “Why do you like teasing me so much?”

You looked at him, bewildered. “Teasing you?”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, turning to face you. “All the compliments and the kisses and everything. Why?”

“It’s called flirting, Prince Zuko,” you said with a smile. “People typically do it when they’re attracted to or like somebody.”

“So why do you do it to me?”

You stared at him in disbelief, wondering if he was joking or if he was truly that oblivious. “Because I like you!”

Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise at your words. “You like me?”

“I thought you knew! I thought that’s why you kept flexing the day Toph kept trying to get me to metalbend,” you hissed poking his arm.

“I was joking around,” Zuko replied, swatting your hand away. “I thought you saying I was distracting you was a joke so I kept flexing to tease you.”

“Well you did tease me,” you mumbled. “Just not in the way you’re thinking of.”

“So,” Zuko said, not meeting your eyes. “You really like me?”

You rolled your eyes before leaning forwards, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. His eyes widened in shock before he closed them, his hand reaching up to cup your face as he melted into the kiss. You pulled back and giggled as his lips chased yours, pecking him once more before leaning back. “Does that answer your question?”

Zuko nodded quickly before grabbing your hand. “I like you too.”

You smiled as you shuffled closer to him. “Good. I’d be pretty upset if you didn’t.”

You gasped lightly as Zuko pressed his lips back to yours, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. Your arms wound around his neck, hands tangling in his hair as you eagerly kissed back. Zuko pulled away first, a chuckle escaping him.

“What?” you asked leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I can’t believe uncle was right,” he replied. At your questioning gaze, he explained.

“You did end up wooing me.”

AHAHAHAHAAHHHH i hope this is good i spent a lot of time on this one and i’m not too proud of it but i hope you enjoy <3

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