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daydreamingleclerc · 2 years ago

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do you think about me at night? - lewis hamilton

based loosely (or quite a lot on second thought) on conversations with friends.

summary: you’ve loved lewis ever since the moment you laid eyes on him, despite the age gap and the fact that he’s engaged, and as much as you both know what you’re about to do is completely and utterly wrong, you do it anyway and all your cards are laid bare in the process.

warnings: this includes cheating from both lewis and his fiancee, and Y/N, unfortunately looks like a bit of a homewrecker. Y/N IS ALSO SIGNIFICANTLY YOUNGER THAN LEWIS (!!!!), lewis is the age he is now (37), Y/N is about 23. smut, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, bisexual!reader, this is literally one of the longest pieces ive ever written, theres a lot of backstory and smut towards the end. oral (f rec), fingering, protected sex, pet names (think lewis says good girl like once), praise kink, very brief mention of choking (blink and you miss it kinda mention), i think that’s it. in true emi fashion, this isn’t very good and it’s not been proofread - but let me know what you think!

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem reader

requested: no

notes: requests are open, see who i write for here and my masterlist here. this is my first lewis smut so it’s not 100% in the swing of it all yet, but i hope you enjoy!

“ready?”

georgie peered in, a raised eyebrow as they wandered through your bedroom. their eyes scanned your outfit and for a minute, you thought they hated it until their lips curled up into a smile. they approved, which was something you were relieved about.

“you look nice,” they smiled, fingers dancing along the bottom of the dress and feeling the thin silk, “it’s pretty.”

“nice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, “i at least want to look good, that’s better than nice.”

georgie frowned, and kicked your shin with the tip of their foot. you weren’t even going to go to this goddamned party, in fact, you were completely and utterly against it. you saw how kiara treated lewis, and it made you angry, like all the heat in your body was causing you to levitate off the ground somewhere.

“you do look good,” georgie laughed softly, “but it’s got nothing to do with lewis, no?”

they raised their eyebrows and you shrugged. “does it matter if it is?” you replied, picking at the skin around your fingers. georgie was right, it was everything to do with lewis, but you were also right, it didn’t matter because he was engaged.

“i think you should just go for it,” they shrugged, “we all know kiara isn’t happy, either.”

you rolled your eyes, applying the last of your lipgloss in the mirror and almost toppling over the pile of clothes in the first place, “yeah, we only know she’s not happy in that relationship because she told you when her tongue was halfway down your throat.”

“well, technically she told me after that,” georgie shrugged, tank top blowing in the wind coming from your open window, “kinda difficult to tell someone how you feel about your imploding engagement when you’ve got their tongue down your throat,” they smirked, “you should know that, Y/N, especially after all the times we used to make out.”

“fuck off,” you groaned, dropping the gloss in your bag and turning to face them with rosy cheeks, “are we going or not?”

georgie got up off of your bed, sliding their phone down into the pocket of their denim shorts. they looked effortlessly good, as per usual, with denim shorts and a blue tank top, both of which eccentuated the long limbs of their legs and arms in a way that would never look right on you. you wore your matching shoes, and it always made you giggle when you did that.

the taxi ride to lewis and kiara’s was quiet, gentle small talk between the two of you while georgie told you about the people kiara had invited. you were hardly listening to them, gazing out of the taxi window almost regretting your decision to come tonight.

kiara spotted you both almost instantly, and on second thought, you questioned the baby blue silk dress you’d slipped into. it was noticable, and that wasn’t what you wanted to be tonight. you handed kiara the small bottle bag in your hand, “happy birthday,” you felt stupidly inferior as you handed it to her with your chipped green nail polish, noticing her dark red gel polish that hadn’t chipped a single bit. “it’s not much but its something from us both.”

you knew you weren’t inferior. if lewis was yours you would never even dream of being so stupid.

“it is?” georgie asked, raising their eyebrows. you laughed gently.

“mhm, you owe me twelve pound seventy five.”

“of course i do,” they nodded, “drink?”

georgie went off, mingling with kiara’s friends and meeting new people you’d only feared they’d introduce you to. lewis’ friends were in a completely seperate part of the house entirely, and when you scanned for him amongst the crowd, he was nowhere to be seen.

an hour or so passed, and you’d been dragged into a conversation between georgie and a few of kiara’s friends surrounding freud. it was boring you, as much as you hated to admit it. you didn’t come to the party to discuss the psychoanalysis of boys and their mothers, you came for one reason and that reason was nowhere to be seen.

you tapped georgie’s shoulder and signalled to the bathroom, but they furrowed their eyebrows, “you okay?”

“yeah, am i not allowed to go to the bathroom?”

georgie nodded, their smile soft as you wandered off through the house. kiara’s eyebrows knotted when you took a right turn to the stairs after clocking the line for the main toilet in the hallway, but you pretended that you didn’t notice.

you’d been to the house enough times to know that the door furthest from the staircase on the left was not the bathroom, but something drew you to it anyway. the door swung open, and inside you found lewis sitting by the window on an armchair, a puff of smoke surrounding his head.

the smell of weed wasn’t as strong as you anticipated, mixing with the smell of the BBQ from downstairs, and the smell of alcohol and fresh bedsheets. it was a surprisingly nice concoction.

“Y/N,” lewis smiled softly, “i didn’t expect you here so early.”

“well, georgie wanted to put old men in their place about psychoanalysis, so,” you straightened out your dress, “here i am.”

“of course they did,” lewis chuckled, “but, are you saying i’m old?” he stood up, and immediately your cheeks flushed a light shade of crimson and your mouth went dry as if you’d forgotten to speak, “i’m kidding.”

you let out a hot puff of air and lewis walked closer, “i was trying to find the toilet but i, uh-”

“-we both know you know this isn’t the bathroom, Y/N,” he said. he was inches away from you now, standing so close you could smell his expensive aftershave, and it almost made you melt, “you’re blushing.”

“you’re drunk,” you noted, and took the cigarette from his fingers to take a drag, “and high.”

“you’re blushing,” he repeated, taking the cigarette from your fingers, taking a drag and stamping it out, “over me?”

“it’s hot out in case you hadn’t noticed,” you hummed, blowing your puff of smoke out in short bursts. lewis was impressed. he watched as you blew out the rest of the smoke, and then he followed, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips. you watched as he drank it, eyes never leaving his when he pulled it from his lips and brought it to your shoulder to cool you down.

you breathed out, a soft gasp, and it took everything inside of him to not combust there and then.

“that feels nice,” you noted, “it’d feel better here.”

you dragged lewis’ bottle to your chest, the swells of your boobs spilling out from the top of it anyway, but they jolted when the cool droplets from the side of his bottle trickled between them. “yeah, i was right.”

lewis lowered the bottle, only slightly, and the gasp elicited from your lips again. he took a long, deep breath, composing himself, but before he managed to successfully forget about wanting to kiss you, you leaned in and did it yourself.

one hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him into you closer while he stood there in amazement. your lips slotted between his perfectly, and when he kissed back after what felt like hours, they moulded even better. the bottle he held at your chest had been removed, you placed it on the bedside table behind you.

lewis’ hands moved to your cheeks, cupping them gently and engulfing you in him as you kissed, your hands coming to rest on his torso. you felt so content in his arms, his lips on yours. you’d fantasized about this moment for weeks, and it had finally happened. neither you nor lewis wanted to pull away, so thoroughly engrossed in the kisses the other had to offer you didn’t even want to breathe.

he pulled away first, practically heaving for breath. he never knew a kiss could feel so good, and he realised rather quickly he never wanted to kiss anybody else ever again - not even his fiancee. you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, a vague, lingering taste of his budweiser coated your lips, while the citrus taste of your lipbalm coated his.

without another word, your lips locked again. his tongue slid easily past your tongue, and you allowed him free access within your mouth. this kiss was even better than the last, but you weren’t sure if that was even possible.

the door hadn’t been shut properly, and roscoe had managed to bump it open with his nose. he barked softly at lewis’ feet, and you soon pulled away from one another. the door was open barely an inch, but you sensed that kiara wasn’t far. lewis bent down to tend to roscoe, and you admired him while he did so. roscoe barked softly again, and you bent down to greet the bulldog with a smile on your face.

“who’s a good boy?” you cooed, and watched as roscoe cocked his head to the side, “rossy’s a good boy!”

as if on cue, kiara walked through the door. you straightened yourself up, awkwardly standing between the pair of them like a dagger through their marriage, and her gaze never left you.

“is everything okay up here?”

“mhm,” lewis said dryly, “Y/N was just playing with roscoe.”

“thought you went to the bathroom,” she replied, aiming her response at you. your throat was dry, but you swallowed thickly.

“i was - i, uh, i did - but then i saw roscoe coming into the bedroom and then i saw lewis so i-”

“-the door wasn’t open wide enough for you to see lewis, Y/N.”

“jesus, ki,” lewis pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “roscoe came in, and then Y/N followed and pushed the door closed a couple of inches,” he lied surprisingly well, and you nodded with a soft smile, avoiding kiara’s eyes. “anything else?”

“you’ve got something on your lip,” she turned to lewis, even drier than before, and wiped her thumb underneath her own lip, eyes on you, “right there.”

several weeks passed, and you’d hardly seen or spoken to lewis in that time. the one time you did see him, he looked effortlessly gorgeous, standing beside kiara at the launch of her new his and hers perfume range. she made sure to keep her eye on you both all night, never allowing him a moment alone with you.

she had her head screwed on, she wasn’t stupid. georgie, much to your relief though, was none the wiser about the kiss, and you intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

they were deep in conversation with one of kiara’s friends, one who they hadn’t met yet and they shared multiple views on certain, uninteresting subjects and it kept them entertained. you, on the other hand, not so much. your phone beeped in your jacket pocket, and when you pulled it out, lewis’ name was spread across your screen.

unable to grab you alone, he said, but kiara’s going away to france for paris fashion week on sunday. three dots popped up on the screen when you’d read the messages, and almost instantly, another message popped up, you can come over when she’s gone if you like, would be nice to see you.

a small smile graced your lips, and for the first time in weeks you felt a pulse in your veins once more at the prospect of being alone with lewis. sounds good to me, you shot back, shall we say monday at 12:30?

cool. he replied. you were just about to put down your phone when it buzzed again, don’t worry about making dinner, i’ll cook for you. you smiled again. and make sure to bring a change of clothes.

“i bought wine,” you smiled when lewis opened his front door to greet you. roscoe barked at your feet and circled your ankles when you entered the hallway, “i wasn’t sure whether you drank red, white or rose so i just bought all three.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” he replied, walking back off into the kitchen and watching you in the doorframe as you slipped off your shoes, “i like that dress.”

you blushed softly at his compliment, and by default swayed your hips to show off the floral detail. you almost told him that you bought it especially for this occasion, but you didn’t want to sound too eager - he was an almost married man, after all.

you watched as he poured you a glass of white wine from the half open bottle on the countertop, filling it just over three quarters of the way full and adding a drop of lemonade for sweetness. he handed it to you in silence.

“it’s not as fun when kiara’s not here,” you giggled sheepishly, and watched lewis from the rim of your wine glass as he chuckled along opposite you.

“i suppose you’re right,” he took a swig of his wine and then took several steps towards you, “but it’s nice, just us.”

you nodded, desperately wanting to tell him how perfect it felt. how much you knew he was the person you were destined to be with, how the kiss had completely and utterly changed the direction of your life. but you didn’t.

“did you know that kiara kissed georgie?”

the question wasn’t meant to leave your lips, but it did anyway. you didn’t care. you wanted to see the look on his face, the anger, the frustration, the confusion. only you didn’t get any of that. he still remained calm, his facial expression had barely changed one iota.

“no, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and watched as lewis sipped his drink again. “there’s never been two people in this relationship, Y/N,” he sighed, “there’s always been affairs, i’ve just never had them.”

“oh.”

you weren’t sure whether lewis’ revelation made you so furious you could scream, or so furious you could fuck. he took another swig of his wine, and you stood there in silence once more. you began to walk towards him, placing your wine on the counter and getting closer to him until you were centemeters apart. you brought your lips to his, one hand bracing around the back of his neck like last time, while his hands moved to your hips.

your lips danced in tandem with one another and you eagerly bit down on his bottom lip to tell him you were ready for this to happen. he moved his hands down to grab at your bum and lifted you onto the countertop, where he slotted between your legs perfectly. your hands moved from behind his neck to underneath his shirt, where you stroked your fingers up his defined torso until it rode too high and he pulled it from his body. one of his hands came to rest at your throat, giving it an experimental squeeze, while the other hand travelled up your leg.

you opened them wider, and when they were open enough to his satisfaction, he pushed the lace material of your underwear to the side and circled your clit with the pad of his thumb. you gasped, clawing softly at the skin of his stomach as he continued to circle his thumb.

his lips moved to your neck, sucking on the skin so lightly, and when he felt like you were ready he inserted a finger into you, and relished in the moan when you cried out at the feeling. you bit down on your lip, one hand running up the side of his neck and bringing his lips back to yours.

you moaned into his mouth and he smrked against your lips, appreciating the reactions you were giving him. he inserted another finger and your back arched, pressing your chest up to his.

“ssh, ssh, Y/N,” he spoke softly, “i know.”

“feels so good, lewis,” you whispered back breathlessly, “please don’t stop.”

he hummed, sucking at the underside of your chin and nibbling at it with his front teeth. your hand travelled down to his sweats, where you squeezed teasingly at his dick, protruding out of the grey material. he let out a breath, one he’d clearly been holding in for a while, the feeling of your delicate hands on his dick was something he’d only ever imagined; and now it was happening he felt like he would explode.

lewis’ fingers began to pick up a bit more pace inside of you, curling in soft ‘come hither’ motions and coaxing you towards your orgasm. he leaned down, pushing the dress up higher and sinking to his knees to watch his fingers dissapear inside of you.

“so wet,” he noted, pulling his fingers out momentarily to lick around the pads before inserting them back inside of you, “so wet, all for me.”

“mhm,” you replied, sitting back on your elbows so he could get a better view, “all for you - fuck!”

lewis’ lips wrapped around your clit while you spoke, and his tongue flicked the underside while he hummed ever so softly against it. the friction made you cry out again, and one hand flew to his hair while you gripped at the counter so hard with your other hand that the skin went ten shades lighter from squeezing.

“‘m gonna - fuck, lewis, ‘m gonna cum.” you stated, tugging at his dreads as he continued to eat you out and curl his fingers. he nodded, humming slightly harsher and flicking your clit faster. it didn’t take long before you came, legs shaking around his head as he toppled you over the edge.

he pulled off of you with a pop and brought his lips to yours, and you moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue. you got to your knees, silently telling him you’d return the favour, but he stopped you. “i need to feel you,” he said, “you’ll be staying all night, there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

you frowned, but ultimately agreed. he pulled you up, and his fingers instantly went to the buttons down the front of your dress, carefully undoing them one by one. he could tell it was new by the smell, and he didn’t want to ruin it because he knew it would’ve upset you.

the dress dropped to the floor and pooled at your feet, and lewis’ eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw you standing in front of him in just lacy underwear. he’d only ever dreamed of this, of seeing you in front of him in lingerie, waiting patently for him to admire you before he took it off.

your cheeks flushed red, and instinctually, you went to cover yourself over with your arms but lewis had other ideas. his fingers hooked under your bra straps, and they fell to your elbows. “you’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he spoke, almost breathlessly as he reached his arms around your body to unhook the back of the bra. he watched it fall, and your nipples pebbled in the cool air, “so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you blushed once more, and your hands hooked into the waistband of his sweats so they wouldn’t cover up your body. the sweats fell off of his legs with ease and pooled at his ankles, and your soul almost left your body when he didn’t have any underwear on.

he smirked at your reaction, and hooked his fingers into your underwear. he pushed them down your legs, and travelled down with them, the pads of his fingers tickling the backs of your legs as he guided the underwear down. you stepped out of them and lewis came back to face you, his lips pecking yours and then your nose.

“how do you want me, darling?”

“i, uh,” you furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of the answer, “i don’t know.”

lewis’ expression mimicked yours, scrunched together eyebrows and a soft look on his face. you didn’t mean to pull that expression, and you knew you should’ve mentioned something before he pulled all your clothes off. “i’ve never done this,” you breathed, “i mean, i have done this - i have had sex - but i’ve just not, uh, i’ve never-”

“-hey hey, slow down,” lewis grabbed your wrists, “if you don’t want to do this, we really don’t have to.”

“no, no, lewis, i want to,” you shook your head, “i’ve just never had sex with a man before,” a sigh left your body and the hot air from your mouth blew all over lewis’ face and left him with shivers down his spine, “i’ve only ever dated one person, and that was georgie’s sister tessie,” there was a small silence, “and then tessie cheated on me with her best friend michael so i slept with georgie to get back at her.”

lewis chuckled and tucked some loose hair behind your ear, “i can work with that,” he kissed your nose, “do you still wanna do this?”

you nodded, and lewis smiled, releasing your hands and bracing them around his neck, “okay, sweetheart, get up on the counter for me.”

you did as you were told, and lewis almost felt now as if you were the most delicate china. you’d let him in, formed an emotional bond and that was something he would cherish forever. you spread your legs, much like earlier, and lewis reached over into the cabinet by the oven, pulling out a condom from a boz in the corner of it.

“why do you have condoms in your kitchen?” you asked, a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on your face. lewis laughed.

“never know when you’ll need them,” he winked.

you watched intently as pumped his hand over his dick several times before he rolled it on.

“ready?”

“ready,” you smiled, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders, hands in his dreads. he guided himself inside of you, and as he stretched you out inch by glorious inch, your fingers got tighter around his hair and your breath hitched more and more, “fuck, lewis.”

he groaned when his ball hit the counter, signalling that he was all the way inside of you, and he pulled your chin to face him, lulling your eyes open by pressing his forehead against yours. “just tell me when you’re ready to carry on, okay?”

you nodded, feeling so content in lewis’ touch as he kissed your nose and stroked your cheeks with his fingers. a minute or so passed for you to adjust to his size, and when you did you kissed him back, “you can move now.”

he did as he was told, moving steadily inside of you until he got into a good rhythm, slow enough so that he didn’t hurt you but fast enough so that you both got the pleasure you deserved out of it. you were whimpering and whining at the feeling, blabbering incoherently about how good he felt, begging him to go faster.

“lewis, please - fuck, please go faster.”

he hooked his fingers underneath your thighs and with his immense strength he picked you from the counter and lowered you until you were on the floor, all while still being inside of you. the kitchen tiles were cold on your back, but you didn’t care. he hovered over you, the angle much easier for him to fuck you properly and for you to feel the full effect of him inside of you.

he began thrusting, his pace slightly quicker than it was before, and you cried out. lewis’ whimpers and groans were unlike anything you’d ever heard before, and you realised you never wanted to hear them from anyone else. you couldn’t help yourself, getting lost in the feeling of him inside of you so much.

your moans stroked his ego, and the louder you got, the faster lewis’ thrusts became. “fuck, Y/N, you’re so good,” he groaned, dipping his head into your shoulder where he left marks from his stubbly chin, “so good and so tight.”

you moaned again, eyes clenched shut as you felt the familiar onsets of an orgasm sparking up in your stomach. lewis’ hand found yours, and you entwined your fingers as he held it beside your head, a soft gesture that let you know he wasn’t going anywhere.

“fuck, lewis,” you cried out, arching your back up off of the floor, “i’m gonna cum again, can’t hold it any longer.”

after several more thrusts from lewis, you came with a cry, clenching around him like a vice. he wanted to hold out a little longer and try and give you a third before his own orgasm hit, but the feeling of you clenching so hard around his dick was too much for him. he came inside the condom, not even giving himself time to pull out like he usually did, and you pictured what it would be like without the condom.

he fucked the pair of you through your orgasm, and when you couldn’t take the sensitivity, he pulled out of you and rolled to his back. you were amazed that someone could make you feel this good. you felt like you could do anything, and you were positive he felt the same.

you tucked yourself into his side, and he happily let you, kissing your forehead as you wrapped your legs together and entwined yourself physically as well as emotionally.

“that was so much better than i ever could’ve imagined.”

he smiled at your words, “it’s never been like that with kiara, this was different, the best kind of different,” his lips found yours when you looked up at him, “what’re you doing to me Y/N Y/L/N?”

“what do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows, and his heart skipped a beat at your niavety.

“i’m losing my mind over you,” he admitted, “the best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you at the art gallery all those months ago,” his fingers stroked your hair delicately, “i’ll never be able to live my life unless you’re in it.”

you laid your head on his chest, and you could hear the abnormally fast thumping of his heart rocking against his bones. “wanna know something?” you raised an eyebrow as you looked up to him, “i’ll never be able to live mine without you in it either.”

“then stay,” lewis offered, “stay all week, and when kiara comes back from paris we’ll figure something out. i can’t live without you, Y/N. you’re a part of me now.”

you blushed, and your lips instinctively made their way to his.

“you’re a part of me now too, lewis, and i wouldn’t change it for the world.”

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

For the BTHB... Villain with appendicitis?

Thank you for the ask!

Rupturing

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: appendectomy, fever, anxious character, painkillers, pills, vomit, anesthesia, surgery, IV, needles, refusal of medical care

9:01. He was a minute late.

9:05. Five minutes late.

9:15. Hero started to pace around, kicking pebbles with her foot.

9:20. She was starting to get nervous. Villain was never, ever late.

9:30. Okay, this was getting absurd.

Hero stood up, grabbed her phone, and called Villain. It rang, but never clicked.

He didn't answer.

Hero bit her lip, a nauseating pit forming in her gut.

Something was wrong. Villain was always overly stressed about time and always showed up at nine- not a second too late.

So, naturally, being the anxious, paranoid worry wort that Hero was, she went to check up on him.

Of course, Hero spent all her freetime figuring out where Villain lived if there was an instance like the current one.

Upon knocking at the beige door, that nauseous feeling overcame her again. Something was wrong.

She busted through the door and immediately the eerie silence of the home startled her. Even though Villain lived alone, there would surely be a TV playing or the dishwasher going.

Hero searched through the various rooms. It was a normal house. Quaint and small with barely any decor apart from a few spontaneously placed plants. All the walls were painted with the same, dull blue that the sky had right before a storm. It was dreary and perfectly villainous.

"Villain!" Hero called, peeking into a room she assumed to be his bedroom. Apart from a shoddily made bed, it seemed as though Villain hadn't been in there for a long time.

The next room in the hallway was a bathroom. Hero stepped in there, ignoring the horrid stench, and examined the counters. Bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen were scattered about. His gnawed on toothbrush was laying by the sink as water slowly dripped from the faucet.

That didn't look spectacular.

Hero stepped out of the bathroom and turned the light off before turning and walking into a large room that seemed to be the kitchen and dining room combined.

"Hey Villain! Are you home?" Hero called again, observing how badly stocked the fridge and cupboards were. Basically, the only food that Villain seemed to store was ramen and some protein powder.

"Villain!" Hero yelled, getting nervous. Based on the state of his bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, the villain seemed to be in rough state.

Or was that just her nervous tendencies kicking in?

The next room was without doubt the living room, though with those desolate walls, one may beg to differ.

In the center of the gray room was a dark cherry wood coffee table and a small armchair. And that was it.

Except for the body strewn across the ground.

Hero bounded over to the seemingly dead corpse and rolled it over to come face to face with Villain.

"Oh my gosh!" Hero exclaimed, thrusting her fingers by his neck to check for a pulse. It was there, thump... thump... thump...

"You okay?" Hero asked, smoothing the sweaty strands of hair out of his face. Villain blearily blinked his eyes open and shook his head.

"Stomach bug," he whispered.

Hero looked down at him skeptically. No, this wasn't just a stomach bug. He was obviously in pain and was likely running a nasty fever. And he looked so incredibly tired and weak.

"How long have you been like this?" Hero asked, putting Villain's heavy head in her lap.

"M day," he groaned, gasping for breath. "Stomach hurts."

"Where?" Hero asked. Villain lightly brushed his fingers over his right side.

"Oh okay bud. I think you have a fever," Hero said, taking his temperature with her hand. It was burning and he looked so pale.

"Yeah cold," Villain agreed, nodding the tiniest nod.

"Okay buddy," Hero murmured, stroking his flushed cheek. "I think we need to go to the doctor."

She recognized the symptoms. Her sister when they were kids got sick like this and they had to take her to the hospital. Hero was too young to exactly know what was going on, only that it was serious.

But Villain shook his head, aimlessly clawing at Hero's hand.

"No doctor. No doctor," he begged, then winced, whimpered and grabbed his right side. When he looked back up at Hero, there were tears in his eyes.

"Okay we are going now," Hero stood up with Villain in a bridal carry. He protested weakly, but then stilled. Hero stopped walking to see if he was still conscious by shaking him. He groaned.

Hero loaded Villain in the back seat of her truck and buckled him in around his chest and legs so he could safetly rest.

The drive to the hospital seemed longer than what it was. Every moment she got, Hero would look behind her to peer at Villain, and everytime he was still staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

Finally, they arrived. Hero barely put the vehicle in park by the time she was leaping out of the door and running to Villain's side.

"Hey! Hey!" Hero called when she ran into the hospital, placing Villain on a bench. Other patients stared at her and receptionists stood up to meet her.

"Bring him into the ER," one of the receptionists said as she grabbed a stack of papers and called the doctor. Hero gathered Villain back in her arms and ran into another room.

The receptionist handed Hero the stack of papers. "Fill these in to thr best of your ability. I'm going to get the doctor."

Hero sat on the raised hospital bed with Villain resting against her shoulder. He sighed contently and nuzzled his cheek to find a perfect spot. Hero looked over at him- he was almost asleep with his whole body splayed out and limp.

Hero wrapped her arm around his shivering body and rubbed his shoulder before answering some of the paperwork.

She was able to answer most of them relatively easily, but got stumped on occupation.

She couldn't just say villainy right?

"Hero, why hello. How is your arm healing?"

Hero looked up to see the doctor sauntering into the room, his blonde hair slightly tousled with pale gray shadows under his eyes- remnants of a busy day.

"Good, good," Hero said, putting the paperwork aside.

"Is this one of your team members?" The doctor asked, running a thermometer over Villain's forehead. He frowned at the reading.

"Not exactly," Hero replied, timidly. She rubbed Villain's hair as he stirred from the cool touch of the thermometer. He near immediately fell back asleep.

The doctor's face paled. "He's a villain? Hero you know-"

"Yes, I know, but look at him Doc," she gestured her head towards Villain's sagging body.

The doctor glanced at Villain for a moment. He then said, "Yeah, he's sick. I'm thinking appendicitis, but he's a villain. The hospital is not required to treat them, unless there's an order. Order as in signed by ten, high-ranking heroes. Besides, it'll endanger our staff."

"He can't even lift his head!" Hero exclaimed. "How is he going to be a threat under anesthesia? C'mon tell me."

"He could wake up..."

"As sick as he is? Not likely."

"A MRI scan could amplify his abilities."

Suddenly Villain coughed, interrupting the conversation. He groaned before expelling his stomach's contents on the floor.

"It's okay," Hero murmured, scowling slightly at the sight, before glaring at the doctor while raising her eyebrows.

The doctor sighed. "Lay him on the bed." Hero complied, laying the villain flat on the bed, adjusting his head to rest on the pillow.

The doctor took his hand and prodded at the right side of his stomach. Villain groaned, breathing heavily.

"He's going to need emergency surgery," the doctor said, standing up and trotting to a phone. "Nurse? I need a team of anesthesiologists for an appendectomy."

Hero grabbed Villain's hand. His forehead was creased in concern as he listened and watched the doctor's erratic movements.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll be right there with you," Hero soothed him. He seemed to relax, but his muscles did not let go of their tension.

"Okay. I am going to go get ready." The doctor left.

Soon after, a couple nurses came in and hooked Villain to an IV. He flinched, watching the small needle go into his elbow.

Hero grabbed his hand and rubbed it.

A couple more people sauntered in and injected a hypodermic needle into the IV line.

"Okay Villain, count down from ten."

"Ten... nine... eight... sev...ven...si." Villain looked over at Hero with pleading eyes before they drifted shut.

A nurse put a mask over his nose and he was wheeled away.

Hero waited in the lobby, twidling her thumb and reading health magazines. Every two minutes, literally, she would look at the clock and bite her lip.

After two hours, the doctor made his appearance.

"The surgery was successful. He is waking up now, so he will be very groggy, but his vitals are good. You can take him home."

"Don't you have to monitor him."

"Come back in two weeks for a check-up."

Hero walked into the ER and to Villain's bed. His eyes were half-lidded and he barely noted Hero's presence.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, stroking his head. "You scared me."

Villain didn't reply, just blinked very, very slowly. Soon, his blinks became longer until he drifted off.

Nervous, Hero called for a nurse. "Why is he sleeping?" She asked.

The nurse shrugged. "The effects of anesthesia hasn't worn off yet, so he'll be in and out for a while."

Hero nodded and sat back down.

"You can take him home, you know," the nurse said. "We don't keep villains for monitoring or over-night stays."

Hero groaned and looked at the nurse. "Well you should."

"But we don't. Please take him home, he's occupying beds that could be used for more important patients."

Hero rolled her eyes, but obeyed. She picked Villain up and helped him into his jeans, but left his shirt off to not irritate the stitches. Then, she rolled him to her truck in a wheelchair.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hero got Villain to her house and changed into something comfortable. He was dozing, but every movement seemed to awake him. He was totally and completely silent, allowing Hero to tuck him on her bed before sliding in next to him.

She wrapped her arms around Villain and pulled him in tight. He drifted off to sleep instantly, and Hero was not far behind.

When Hero awoke the next morning, she was sprawled across her bed with Villain laying on her stomach. She smiled and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest before carefully removing his head to go downstairs and prepare breakfast. After a quick research, she decided to make a bowl of pudding with toast and avacado.

Villain came down the stairs stiffly, groaning with each step, just as Hero put the bread in the toaster. She looked up just in time to see him lean heavily against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Hero scolded and gently led him to the couch to sit on.

"Heard you- engh," Villain winced, holding his side. "Downstairs."

"Okay," Hero sighed. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"No not really. Just you and the hospital. Everything else is just a blank."

"You had an appendectomy," Hero explained, brushing the hair out of Villain's face. He jerked back and Hero pulled away. He was so cute and vulnerable when he was out of it.

"What's that?" Villain asked, but Hero had a sense that he knew and just wanted to fill the silence up.

"Your appendix was removed." The toaster clicked, so Hero went and grabbed the food.

Villain spooned at it for awhile before putting it towards the side. His face was pale.

"Not hungry," he said.

"You gotta eat."

"No," Villain slowly laid on the couch, his body seizing with every motion. "I'm tired..."

"Yeah, you had surgery, but please eat something so I can give you some painkillers."

Villain rolled his eyes, but allowed Hero to feed him some avocado and pudding. However, by the end of it, he was too exhausted to resist Hero putting two large pills in his mouth.

Between the pain meds and fatigue, it only took a few minutes for Villain to fall sound asleep.

Hero idly ate her own pudding and stared out the window. After finishing both her's and Villain's chocolate desert, she went to do dishes.

Then she showered.

Then she playing monopoly by herself.

And then she ate lunch.

All the while waiting for Villain to regain consciousness.

He did, eventually, and very slowly.

"How are you feeling."

"Bit dizzy," Villain admitted, rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"About," Hero looked at her phone. "Five hours, give or take one."

Villain groaned and quickly murmured an apology.

"Don't be. You are still a bit feverish and just came out of surgery."

Villain closed his eyes. Hero thought he might've fallen back asleep, but then he spoke,

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Hero smiled.

#bad things happen bingo #feverish villain #drugged villain #hero caretaker #hero x villain #heros and villains #anesthesia #appendectomy #writing #villain whumpee

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flowerwrites06 · 4 years ago

Text

break my mind’s eye VIII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

Picturesque day framed by the window of the brightly lit clinic, cool air swirling around them aiding Belle’s anxiety in whatever slight way it could. Fingers gripped at her knitted lavender cardigan, pressing her legs together to somehow prevent more chill to flow through the white floral dress. She seemed to focus on every other little thing while the man in a white coat in front of quickly typed and clicked in his own time.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Jeon.” The doctor smiled as if he just confirmed the happiness of a new family.

Six weeks passed since Belle took the dozens of pregnancy tests haunting her with pink pluses until finally the doctor gave the final verdict. Thankfully with the Spring Line show coming in close to around a couple months, she was able to avoid any conversation of whether the ritual worked.

Ritual. Fucking hell what year was this?

Her silence caused a slight awkward confusion to grip the doctor’s face, almost as if he was inching close to a verdict that something was wrong.

Nothing should be wrong, Belle reminded herself. Happy relationship, remember?

The woman quickly adorned the perfect smile on her face using her glossy eyes as the sparkle of joy. “Sorry…it’s just all very exciting to take in.” She chuckled and thankfully the doctor was immediately convinced giving her a proper smile.

“Of course—very happy news though. I’m sure your entire family would be elated.” His grin stretched from ear to ear like he was related to her some way.

Then again anyone who so much as knew the Jeon family seemed to have that mindset.

“I’ll have your report prepared in just a few minutes, Mrs. Jeon.” He nodded in reassurance while Belle leaned back on the chair.

Gaze moved to the window looking out at the people strolling back and forth living their lives. She wondered how many were living by their own accord. Based on their own needs. Were they happy with where they were? Some rushing in suits trying not to drop their coffees, mothers and fathers pushing their strollers with toddlers skipping next to them and then couples walking calmly in casual clothing.

When she was younger, Belle told herself she would not end up in any of those situations. She would get a car, halt on marriage and kids while focusing on her career entirely until her thirties at the very least.

The naivety of dreams. Dreams of a life no one could ever control. Dreams that were already in the hands of fate.

“Mrs. Jeon?” The doctor addressed for the third time.

Belle finally realized that was her name now, stripping back to reality. Even her name was not under her control any more. Legally she had her original name but people wouldn’t care. Taking the husband’s name was more popular. So now she was officially Mrs. Jeon to society.

Quickly smiling she accepted the envelope handed to her and bowed slightly. “Thank you, doctor.”

Walking out of the clinic into the beautiful day, she spotted Yoongi leaning back against the side of the car with his arms folded over his chest. Raven hair a little longer now hovering over his eyes as he watched her taking a deep breath at the entrance stairs. “So?” He asked, squinting a little in the sunlight.

“What do you think?” Belle mumbled with the envelope heavy in her hand much like the twisted feeling in her stomach. Stepping down to the end of the stairs, she looked around every corner that was visible to her. Scanning for any movement.

“No peeping in the bushes, don’t worry.” The older male reassured, pushing off the car and opening the door for the new mob queen. Even though he would never use that term in front of her without risking a kick on his foot.

Strolling to the other side of the car, Yoongi couldn’t help but mimic Belle’s scanning and ended up seeing a figure lurking in one of the alleys. Not that he was proud of it but Yoongi pretended to reach into his coat for a gun which evidently caused the figure to rush out to the streets.

“Fucking reporters.” Yoongi muttered under his breath before climbing back into the car and driving them back to the mansion.

Being invited to Sangria House during the day had not been on Taehyung’s to-do list but here he was anyway being driven to the establishment, by Kim Seokjin’s personal request.

The establishment exuded a different aura during the day as they parked to a halt in front of it. Flowers adorned the entrance in an arch matching the blossom trees behind the building creating a beautiful frame, most of the angels strolling around with their customers linked in hand while a lot of the juniors were simply having picnics under on the ground like it was their own paradise rather than people who entered.

As he walked into the makeshift garden, white coats welcomed him with a bow and led him into the private room with a brief statement of having a full days’ appointment with the best angel in the House.

Full day. Seokjin seemed to know his way around apologizing, he supposed.

Even on the inside things were so much more different. Customers were eating food normally instead chortling the whole way through; they were genuinely having good conversations with the red and lavender coats as if it was not going to lead anywhere. Purple drapes were replaced with more floral arrangements in strings trailing across the walls and he could have sworn butterflies passed them a moment ago.

The white coats stopped down the hallway to a familiar door knocking politely first.

Taehyung already had an achingly strong hope of who to see on the other side of the door.

And thank god, luck was on his side today.

The door opened and gracing him with her presence stood Angel in a different attire. It was still golden but a more casual hanbok with intricate floral designs on the overcoat that shimmer in the light against the silk. Less extravagance but more quality. Taehyung could immediately recognize who designed the dress.

Angel’s heart swelled finally being able to see the man again especially after the horrid way he was dragged out. She could still remember all the things he told her…all the things that haunted him now slowly taunted her.

Once the door closed behind Taehyung, the golden lady padded closer to the male.

Eyes moved around his body before she took a leap to cup his cheeks. “You’re okay.” A bright grin spread across her lips but her forehead knitted like she was close to crying. “Come in.” Gently Angel took his hand and walked to the table.

Taehyung couldn’t help but feel his entire body relax into her touch, leaning slightly into her touch before happily holding her hand. “You did full day appointments too?” He would have asked for that package in a heartbeat.

Angel smiled as they sat next to each other this time, shoulders brushing together. “No this is not a normal thing. Mr. Kim just wanted to apologize for the inconvenience caused last time.” She reached out and gave him some rice cakes. “I know you probably don’t want our tea right now so…I asked them to make these.” She pulled apart one rice cake in half and took the first bite to ensure him that it was safe to eat.

Warmth spread across his chest watching how her cheeks puffed when she ate, hiding her mouth and smiling, trying to stay elegant but still enjoy the taste. Taehyung had the strongest urge to press little kisses on her adorable cheeks.

The golden lady held up the other half of the cake to his mouth, giving him a reassuring smile that it was okay to eat.

Taehyung was not proud to admit that it did not matter if she offered him literal poison, he would still drink it just so the last thing he saw was that fucking smile. Though the cake did smell heavenly. Opening his mouth slightly he waited until Angel brought the cake so close that it brushed against his lips before he took the treat into his mouth. As soon as Taehyung bit into the soft texture, a burst of warm sweetness burst through and he felt a small lump in his throat.

How long had it been since he was able to really taste something properly? The man could never tell whether he was healing or not in the process of vomiting, taking medications and other methods Taehyung deemed boring or painful. It was only now at this incredibly simple moment of recalling just how tasty a rice cake was. How much he loved it in the years before.

“Is it bad?” Angel noticed the smile faded from his face. “I could go get something else.” She tried to get up but Taehyung softly touched her arm.

“No I’m just—” Taehyung chuckled after swallowing, eyes a little glossy as he met her gaze. “I haven’t had rice cake in a long time. It was really nice.”

She relaxed once more sitting next to him allowing a comfortable silence to seep through the air for a few moments.

Eventually the curiosity peeked far too much for her to control. “So…how was the wedding?”

A boulder seemed to drop and crash onto the hope of relaxing in this session now the question lingered. Taehyung could not blame Angel for being curious as she probably had been working the whole time it was happening.

But now he was reminded of the things other than the actual ceremony. The fake vows and calculated kiss under the blossom trees was more for the press.

Taehyung learned the hard way that the real ceremony was behind closed doors. He only found out after it happened because every relative from the Jeon family wanted to chat with him giving him no time to go and check on his sister. Now he wished he just pushed past all of them and ran to her.

It was too late though. By the time Taehyung got the chance to see Belle in the early morning, she was already in tears and shaking beyond belief before jumping into his embrace. She did not say a word to him or anyone for that matter. The whole two nights they were there, his sister stayed quiet merely smiling to the people who didn’t matter. When he found out about the secret ceremony Taehyung did the same.

With Jungkook, he didn’t even bother smiling. Every time he came close his fingers automatically curled into a fist conjuring up all the ways he could just get rid of him.

Now more than ever Taehyung grew aware that his baby sister was going through pain beyond belief while he healed. Aside from the heart clenching sadness, he grew determined to see an end for Jeon Jungkook.

“Taehyung?” Angel placed a hand on his arm gently before pulling away quickly. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.” Her fingers played with the fabric of her dress with her head hanging.

Taehyung jumped back to his current state and shook his head quickly. “No—” He shifted closer until his hand rested behind her. “No it’s okay. Please ask me anything you want.” He gave her a reassuring smile trying to meet her gaze again.

The golden lady’s eyes flickered up see him so close that the warmth of his body radiated onto her.

“The wedding—” He sighed. “The wedding was beautiful…in a sense, I suppose.” Taehyung spoke with bitterness touching his tongue, pursing his lips together. He wondered for a moment if it were too much to speak these things out. Were these walls thick enough the hold the dark thoughts in his head long enough? Was it worth it show a side of him to Angel that he despised? A side of him created as soon as Belle told him, holding a teary smile that she was going to marry a monster and bear his child for his own benefit.

It turns out that part of Taehyung didn’t care who saw or heard him. “Do you ever have that situation where—you despise someone so much—because they’ve hurt you or someone important to you?—a hatred that runs so deep, the mere thought of them—” He huffed out a breath to somehow to cool down the anger erupting inside him. “Makes you thinks things unimaginable.”

Angel’s chest rose and fell slightly as her eyes now grew glossy. In a rush of painful memory, she remembered those words rushing in her own mind at some point. “Yes.” She muttered immediately pressing her lips together. All the nights of hiding in a bathroom and covering her ears hoping that her ex-husband would just pass out drunk. The way she trained herself to zone out every time he climbed on top of her.

Eyes shining and vision blurring just a little but enough to see Taehyung’s welcoming features so she could feel at ease. “You end up stripping them down to being nothing but a human. Not someone powerful…or someone with status that you can’t touch…Just a human. Vulnerable…soft…if you just grabbed a knife and stuck it at the right place. They’re nothing but meat.”

Taehyung’s expression softened hearing such a composed woman speak out the unimaginable things in his mind already. “What if that powerful person is Jeon Jungkook?” It was not something he didn’t think about before. There were dark points in his time living in that place knowing the man was just sleeping soundly in the room with no one really watching over him.

“You can’t do that.” She shook her head.

“But you said—”

“No, Taehyung—your sister is now a Jeon.” Angel raised a hand to ensure that the man listens to her every word. “If you sister is widowed in the Jeon family, it won’t bode well on her. She’ll be tied down to the family until her death. If Jungkook is doing something then there needs to be a divorce.”

“How do you know all that?” His brows furrowed.

“Seok—Mr. Kim told me a story that Jeon Boyoung was a widow…she had to marry someone arranged by the family a day later. It’s a terrible life, Taehyung, remarried widows are not given any kind of respect in the family. The new husbands are allowed to be unfaithful to them or abusive to them without any consequence. The only reason Boyoung is doing somewhat well is because she is a Jeon by birth. Belle isn’t.” Concern riddled her expression hoping to the high heavens Taehyung understood what she was saying. “Jungkook cannot be killed while they’re still married.”

Taehyung shifted in his position feeling a slap of clarity right across his face. “Seokjin—how does he know all these things?” He shook his head. “And how does Belle get a divorce? That family controls everything.”

“Not everything.” Angel whispered so low, she had to lean closer to him. “Belle needs someone to support her alibi. Someone just as powerful as the Jeons. It’s not just them that controls everything, there are other influential people in the city.”

“How am I supposed to find someone just as powerful?”

Sighing shakily, she glanced around the room before moving to stand on her feet. A quick smile tugged at her lips almost as if this whole conversation never happened. “Would you like a take a stroll with me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung nodded before trying to return her smile, standing up as his mind filled with nothing but confusion.

By the time they reached the mansion the envelope in Belles hand scrunched up as if it has been read a million times already. She tried smoothing it out a little when the car parked but it still look just about as messed up as her mind orientation. Crinkles mimicking a drought riddled land and light stains of foundation remnants from her fingers.

Yoongi climbed out of the car first as the two guards from the front walked a bit closer. Standing on her side now, he waited for her to take a break to breathe before opening the door and watching her step out. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be waiting just outside the room.” He muttered as they moved to enter the mansion.

Guards as usual welcomed them with a bow and Belle had the urge increase her pace towards the second living room, her heart racing at the same speed. Fingers shook, body burned from her toes to her head and her legs moved slower than normal at the lack of concentration. She hated wearing a lavender cardigan today because the colour looked far bright for her actual mood.

Looking over her shoulder, Belle saw Yoongi standing with his hands in his jacket, giving her a reassuring nod.

She couldn’t hide it for too long. At some point it was going to get difficult to avoid everyone on the truth. Especially Jungkook.

For a moment Belle paused again hearing muffled voices on the other side of the office door. A usual sound now for the past few weeks. Padding closer to the wooden barrier, only one voice stood out like a teacher scolding an empty classroom. It would be easy to just turn away with the excuse that Jungkook was too busy but no one should be too busy for this. At least in her mind.

She stood close to the door that someone might mistake her for kissing it. Closing her eyes, Belle knocked twice before opening the door just enough to walk inside.

“Move the surviving associates to the other dens, fucking fight back next time!” Jungkook growled slamming the phone down so hard that she heard a crack. He stepped away from the phone, rubbing his face with a frustrated sigh padding through him.

Belle stood inside the room, immediately regretting that she entered but it had be done now or the courage would never arrive again. “Jungkook?”

“Not now.” He muttered without even giving her sideways glance.

Anxiety faded a little; the same heat but it ignited a different kind of fire in her belly. “Yes now.” She spoke firmly, lips pursed together.

Slightly reddened eyes met Belle’s gaze as he padded over to the table once again more, leaning on the edge, dark curls falling over his face. Jungkook tried to control his heavy breathing but it only seemed to get worse when he started thinking about it. “Belle, I’m not in the mood for any more drama today, alright?” He shook his head slowly, hands nearly trembling with fury.

Belle sighed to calm the fire down somehow as the envelope grew so heavy in her hand, she worried her grip would relinquish without her knowing. “This is important.” She took a step forward but quickly jumped back.

Jungkook knocked the phone off the table with the back of his hand, harsh thuds and broken rings echoing throughout the room. “Important?! What could be so fucking important that you can’t give me a moment of peace?” He stomped across from the table almost leaving steam behind him.

“My entire goddamn empire is breaking apart into pieces!” He threw his hand towards the fallen phone as his feet nearly stepped over hers. “I’m sure whatever you have to say can fucking wait.” Hot breath brushed against her already warmed up face.

“It can’t fucking wait!” Belle shouted back despite her mouth feeling incredibly dry, the heat around them collecting and making her a little dizzy. “This—” She jabbed the envelope at his chest not really caring whether it caught or not as it dropped to the ground. “This is what your screwed up family wanted, you got it.”

Eyes burned with tears once again, stomach clenching and her head spinning abnormally. “You won.” She smiled sadly. “Congratulations.” She seethed turning on her heel and stomping out of the door, slamming it so hard that it echoed through the whole mansion.

Stomach twisted in such a way that it almost meant to give Belle as much pain as humanly possible making her wince while tears forcibly streamed down her face. She rushed across the second living room completely ignoring Yoongi who tried to call out her name.

It didn’t take a genius to see that breaking the news had been worse than he expected. The family wanted the damn baby so why did he have to see Belle running out with one of the most heartbreaking expression he had ever seen on the girl? And Yoongi had seen a lot, much to his own discontent.

Yoongi tried to open his mouth to say something but Belle already flashed past leaving the gust of wind behind with her speed. If he knew what happened then it would be easier, right now nothing but confusion and a little sadness gripped his face.

“Get my car ready, please.” Belle announced to one of the guards who immediately bowed and rushed off to do her bidding.

The older male lurked at the edge of the second living room and watched a young looked guards who he remembered was called Jongho. One of Belle’s regular guards who usually kept an eye on her the most. The amount of influence this woman had in the entire Jeon mansion honestly could frighten even Yoongi. Every guards seemed to lose their composure and give her a sad look as if wanting to comfort her in her time of need.

Jongho leaned in a little to hear her whisper, possibly about her location because it had to be known to someone just in case. The young guard nodded and opened the double doors for her.

Yoongi would have rushed to the girl and provided some comfort but if she purposely ignored him then it was clear that her intention was to be alone. All he knew was no woman should ever come out looking that fucking upset after trying to tell their husband she was having their baby.

Jungkook tightened his jaw as the sound of the door still rung in the air. Roughly raking his fingers through his hair as if he was pulling it from the roots, gaze flickered down to the discarded envelope. Crouching down Jungkook picked up the slightly crumpled paper and ripped it open letting the little pieces drip carelessly to the ground.

His heart began to race when he saw a doctor’s pregnancy test report details. Forehead knitted reading through the report until the word ‘results’ caught his eye.

Then in big capital letters, his mistake came crashing down harder than a bag of bricks to his head.

POSITIVE.

All the anger faded away quicker than Jungkook prepared for as it replaced with a painful clench in his chest and the whole world momentarily crashing down on him.

The ritual worked.

‘You won’ she said.

His family won.

The walls of his mind closed in on itself tightly not knowing whether to spread elation or guilt through his body. Instead a deadly mixture of both feelings pumped in his veins making his fingers tremble for a whole different reason.

Jungkooks’ biggest den had been infiltrated by the police, once again with the mayor’s direct orders and the speculations of his hand being involved grew stronger by the day. He knew with all his heart how important it was to keep his business and empire safe but now…

What was more important now?

Something wet dropped onto the paper soaking through the ‘I’ and ‘E’ of the word ‘positive’ bringing him back to reality. Jungkook sniffled quickly, wiping away the tiny trickles of tears escaping down his cheek before opening the door.

“Where is she?” The question posed and everyone’s eyes were on him now, even the maids paused in their tracks to look at him. Could they notice the tears gathering in his eyes? Once again Jungkook had to succumb to feeling like a lost boy who didn’t know what to do without the guidance of his family.

Hair over his face managed to cover most of his distress but Yoongi only had to glance down at the paper clasped tightly in the younger male’s hand to know why.

“She drove out.” He nodded towards the entrance.

Jungkook did not utter another word before practically rushing out of the second living room but immediately paused when Yoongi stood in front of him.

He raised his hands in defense seeing Jungkooks’ glossy eyes burning into him at the disrespectful action. “Sorry, sir but—I believe your wife wanted to be alone right now.” Yoongi attempted to explain in the most careful way possible. Though his mind conjured much more colorful words. The last person she wants to see is the dickhead who impregnated her against her will.

Anger burned to his very core seeing Yoongi speak to him so casually. “Do you even know where she went? What if she gets into danger?!” Jungkook growled making the maids jump back and frantically continue on with their work.

Fortunately Yoongi had been significantly numbed to acts of intimidation. “I know where she is and she’ll be as just as safe there as she would be here. You don’t have to worry.” He shook his head, trying to keep his voice calm and collected.

“But—” Jungkook held up the paper pathetically, sighing shakily.

“I know…I went to the clinic with her.” Yoongi nodded. “She’s okay. She just needs a little space, it’s completely normal.”

It’s not normal and she wasn’t okay but he really just needed to live right now.

Jungkook had the strongest want to keep fighting and just push past to find her but where would that even lead? Ever since that night, Belle couldn’t even look at him properly. Honestly he didn’t have the courage to look at himself either. All his life his parents taught him that the family customs existed for good reasons. Reasons which kept them alive for so long. As a naïve child he found himself never finding anything wrong with these customs.

Until he had to go through them. Along with dragging the woman he grew to care about into it.

Turning away from Yoongi, Jungkook dragged his feet towards one of the couches in the second living room and slumped down.

“I made her think it wasn’t important.” He stared at the paper, reading the same word over and over again. “My father would always tell me how happy he was when my mother told him she was pregnant.” Jungkook scoffed, his vision blurring a little. “He picked her up and twirled her around right in front of all his men not giving a care if he would look weak.”

Yoongi pursed his lips together leaning on the wall behind him.

“Family makes you stronger, he said. Nothing stronger than family.” Jungkook pressed down the inner corners of his eyes with his index finger and thumb, shutting his eyes tightly to stop any more tears from flowing.

“Anyone can pretend to be happy at first.” Yoongi spoke plainly. “It’s what you do for the next twenty years that actually counts.”

Jungkook licked his trembling lips not completely convinced but it wouldn’t be the first time he succumbed to the alluring beauty of a lie.

Clouds spread out to welcome the heavenly blue and golden warmth as Belle padded across the entrance gardens of the Sangria House. For a second, a few people stopped with their usual activities to stare at her, twist of recognition on their faces. With a sigh Belle hugged her cardigan again being the only comfort for today despite the colour being so harsh on her tired eyes.

Through the entrance doors, she looked around the area like a slightly lost puppy. The lobby used most of the natural light making it look like a beach hut of some sort as the warmth was now replaced with fresh cool air.

Belle hoped with all her soul that the person she wanted could just appear right here out of luck. Unfortunately luck was not a trustworthy friend in recent months.

More eyes now fixated on her presence and a figure even padded towards her; tall with lines adorning his face, tattoo peeking out from his shirt and a smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you open?” The man’s gaze trailed up and down her body. Waft of cologne and tobacco swirling around his aura as he moved closer.

“Excuse me?” Brows furrowed but before she could channel any more of her frustration, a red coat rushed over to her side.

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeon…” The red coat bowed in a meek tone even though it was not her fault in the slightest.

The rude customers’ smile immediately disappeared into a look of despair and fear, widened eyes staring back at Belle. “Mrs. Jeon…” He bowed so low that he almost vanished from her line of vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“Would you have continued on with your shenanigans if I wasn’t Mrs. Jeon?” She glared down at the male.

He gripped at the fabric of his trousers tightly, still bent down as if ready to be flogged.

“I assumed too quickly, Mrs. Jeon. Please accept my deepest apologies.” His voice shook slightly knowing the smallest word to Jungkook about this behavior would end in a whole lot of limbs being lost.

Belle sighed lightly, averting her gaze. “It’s alright. Just make sure I don’t find you doing it again.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jeon…” The man smiled giving repeated bows as he backed away. “You are most kind.”

The man now led away by the red coat, Belle was being hosted by one of the white coats who asked what she needed today.

The previous aching in her stomach seemed to get worse despite getting the fresh air while even the mildest rush of heat from the day increased tenfold when it reached her skin.

Oh god…not now.

“Park Jimin, please. If he’s free.” Belle spoke, her strength wavering a little as every part tried to suppress the pain in her chest pushing something up to her throat.

Giving her another bow the white coat led her off to one of the private rooms.

Once again her feet seemed drag across the floor like the world moved too much to catch up properly. More swirling around in Belle’s head, the bitterness in her throat erupted with cruel strength, forcing her to grip on the edge of the door to steady herself.

“Mrs. Jeon? Are you okay?” The white coats’ hands hovered over her to prevent any dreaded fall but distant enough for manners.

Belle gave her a shaky smile through she still held onto the edge as if her life depended on it. “Just a little queasy…” Stomach clenched again and her mind grew stubborn, only thinking about something heavy being pushed up her throat almost choking her. “Is there a—” She tried to swallow it down but it seemed to get more violent. “Is there a bathroom anywhere?”

Her eyes widened before quickly nodding and gesturing towards the private room. “This has a bathroom, madam.” The younger girl tried to gently lead her inside where a small door stood closed.

Passing the little empty table, Belle felt saliva flooding inside her mouth until drool almost leaked out of the sides forcing her to burst open through the door without waiting for the girl and throwing herself in front of the toilet.

Knees ached against the cold wooden floor, chest lurching painfully as the contents of her stomach spewed out in the form of a burning liquid. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes struggling to breathe, a small part hoping it was over before her stomach lurched again.

She vaguely heard footsteps coming closer before her hair was being brushed back gently and her back soothingly rubbed.

Belle coughed feeling a harsh burn in her chest but finally being able to breathe easy as the nausea faded albeit taking its sweet time. As soon as she turned to the side, a hand towel gestured her way. She accepted it with a rush of gratitude as she wiped off her mouth still letting out small painful coughs.

Glossy reddened eyes flickered over to the side, seeing a familiar pair of sultry eyes and pouty lips look back at her with an expression of concern.

“You okay?” Jimin whispered, hand sliding from her back to her shoulder, squeezing it a little as a form of comfort.

Belle sighed before pursing her lips, more tears threatening to flood out if she continued to speak. So the woman merely shook her head, chin trembling and heart crumbling into pieces. The action alone held more truth than anything she ever forced herself to say.

His expression softened not needing any type of explanation as to why Belle looked so upset. Jimin saw the whole thing with his own eyes. No one could ever come out of that and still feel the same. All he could truly do was pull her close and wrap her into a warm embrace, allowing the woman to sob into his shoulder.

Fingers curled into the lavender fabric, sobs now pushing out of her as Jungkooks words replayed over and over again. All the smiles, laughter and kisses. All of them were fake. Nothing was real. Now more than ever Belle had been forced awake from the fantasy that began to thicken far too much. It stripped down to the harsh reality. When her whole future was taken away in one night.

They embraced until their legs fell asleep before eventually moving over to the main private room. Jimin’s hands still on Belle’s arms carefully guiding her to a seat.

Once the new air brushed in, the nausea slowly fizzled out allowing her to breathe in without feeling like a nasty potion being conjured in her throat.

As the pair sat across from one another a moment of silence lingered. Whether to consolidate the memory of their embrace or just time to adjust to their usual setting, both of them were not quite sure.

Then she spoke in a raspy and exhausted voice.

“I always thought I’d feel like the happiest woman in the world when I got pregnant.” Belle said with her head hanging, tears still freshly formed and a heart that could not seem to stop clenching into itself like it hid from something. “Every time I saw a baby smile…I’d always think…I’m going to have that one day with the man I love and he loved me.” She shook her head before scoffing at the naivety. All those stupid dreams of a happy life filled with love, loyalty and trust. Everything replaced by deceit and manipulation.

Jimins’ could feel the burning behind his eyes watching the broken shell of a strong woman speak out thoughts of a time when she was whole. Fingers twitched wanting to embrace her again but the moment for that passed. Now they both had to come to terms with speaking the truth. “You–you can still be happy…” He winced a little at his own words. “Arranged marriages can—” He swallowed hard. “—they can work out through time.”

Not this kind of arranged marriage. At least some arranged marriage gave the couple a chance to say agree or disagree on things. Here Jungkook merely took a fake girlfriend, then he and his family proceeded to do whatever they needed to her for their own benefit. All she had to was sit there, smile and take it.

Belle smiled at the lavender figure as if to reassure him that she appreciated his help. “It’s—complicated…” She chuckled, a small droplet trickling down her cheek. Averting her gaze, she wiped away her tears quickly with a light sniffle. “I supposed I shouldn’t complain. You probably have it worse.”

Jimin hummed in disagreement, shaking his head. “I feel safer here than anywhere else.” His brows furrowed lightly. “Seokjin—” He stammered a little accidentally calling Mr. Kim by his name. “I know he has a reputation but he’s a good man. Really. Never gets angry unless it’s at customers which is rare. He’s always keeps us safe.”

Eyes flickered to meet his, blinking slowly as her curiosity now peeked more than she ever felt it before. “But…what he did to Taehyung…” Belle gestured towards the table before them which had a half-drunken glass of water near her.

He leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “To protect Angel.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Taehyung didn’t do anything. Why would he get punished like that?” Belle kept her voice soft but loud enough for them to hear. As her words became consolidated in the air and in their memories, something struck in her mind that seemed to muffle everything out for a moment.

Jimin paused thinking over what to say before slowly taking a breath. “His… methods are little—”

Calculated. Planned.

For the first time in too fucking long, Belle could see past this thick veil of confusion. It wasn’t all just cruel fate. Her heart raced so hard it tried to crash through her ribcages and even her toes began shaking from the rush of adrenaline pumping in each vein.

Taehyung wasn’t drugged so Angel could be safe.

Tears dried up and a new rush of determination touched her broken form. Belle leaned in, gaze fixated on his, speaking in a firm tone. “Is there any way I could organize a meeting with Seokjin?”

Taehyung tried his best to suppress the intense heat on his cheeks feelings Angels’ soft hands interlock with his slightly rough ones. Through one of the backdoors, they were welcomed by the bright light of the beautiful day and the beautiful blossoms in all their glory.

Pink, red and purple petals falling to the green ground or continuing to fly through the wind to their own personal freedom. Subtle scent of jasmine and lemons touching his nostrils despite the actual plants being situated all the way at the end of the large backyard. A few angels both red and lavender wore more comfortable clothing rather than extravagant while entertaining their customers. Some of them danced in front of the picnic set up or simply sat with them engaged in light-hearted conversation.

He almost forgot the purpose of their visit to this slab of imaginary heaven as Angel led him past the laughing the patrons and towards the jasmines hanging on the fence just facing all the lemon trees. Taehyung wondered if this was what they used for their tea recipes. The small wonder momentarily halted when he felt himself being pulled under one of the lemon trees.

Subtle scent now became potent in his nose, the heavenly jasmine and citrus mixing with Angel’s sweet vanilla perfume. It would have been overwhelming if Taehyung had not lost his focus when meeting the golden ladys gaze.

Her grip on his hand loosened a little but a few fingers still struggled to depart from one another. “I wanted to say this to you in more privacy. The rooms are always watched.” Angel whispered with a light smile. “I’m so sorry…I was the one who put the drug in your tea.” She hung her head. “I didn’t know it was going to make you sick.” The usual composed walls around her once again opted to fade away when standing so close to Taehyung. “I—I thought it was going to make you feel more relaxed and calm—I didn’t…” Angel paused in her shaky words when she felt his hand cupping her cheek gently.

Taehyung watched her beautiful eyes getting glossier every second she continued speaking, each second his heart sunk deeper into a pit. “Did Seokjin ask you to do it?”

Angel pursed her lips, blinking frantically to get rid of the tears forming. “Yes.”

He scoffed averting his gaze, rush of heated fury erupting in his belly. “They’re all the same.”

“No…” She shook her head immediately holding onto his arms. “Taehyung, look at me.” The leaves rustled in a gust of wind causing her hair to flow over her lips a little. “Seokjin isn’t the man you think he is.”

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed searching her expression to find some sense of delusion or lack of surety but the woman looked collected as normal. “What kind of a man is he then? Who drugs their own customers for intimidation?” He seethed more so directed at Seokjin than the beauty before him.

Angel glanced quickly to the side ensuring that nobody was close to listen in. “The helping kind. Taehyung, if he was anything like Jungkook you’d be dead by now or he’d never allow you to see me ever again.” Her own heart jumped at the very mention of the idea. “Seokjin would never do what Jungkook did to your sister.”

He tightened his jaw as his stomach twisted and leaped causing an ache in abdomen. “What?”

“I know about the deal.” She whispered. “Seokjin told me as soon as you walked into Sangria House.” Angels’ bottom lip trembled moving one of her hands to caress his cheeks.

“How much did he tell you?” Taehyung swallowed down hard.

“Everything. He always does.” She smiled sadly, brushing her thumb over his temple. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Her smile quickly disappeared however as she halted her actions. “But your sister isn’t.”

“What can I do?” He muttered leaning in closer with the guise of being secretive but really he desperately wanted to close the distance between them. “Please tell me.”

Door opened gently by Jimin who quickly bowed as soon as they walked inside. A rush of cold air flowed through even Belles’ thick cardigan gushing from the air conditioner swirling with the soft linen waft of cologne. Seokjin sat at his table in the middle of writing something out on a paper before he peered through his glasses to see the two figures walk into the room. A calm expression across his handsome features as per usual despite clearly being disturbed in his work.

Belle padded further inside, fingers intertwined with each other and her posture at its perfect stature determined to look her most composed.

Seokjin quickly stretched a smile across his plump lips before standing up as a sign of respect. “Madame Belle, it’s always nice to see you.” He gave her a nod. Eyes flickered over to Jimin who stood politely in the corner looking a bit confused as to what he was supposed to do. “Thank you for escorting our prestige guest here, Jimin.”

It was a kind but clear sign that the lavender adorned male could leave the vicinity for their private conversation.

“Jimin can stay.” Belle glanced towards him before facing Seokjin. “I trust him if you do.”

Silence plunged into the room as both males still attempted to figure out just what Belle was trying to do or say. However Seokjin had to suppress a smirk at a few theories conjuring in his mind. He gestured for the two of them to sit at the vacant chairs.

Jimins’ confused gaze flickered from Belle to Seokjin before quickly closing the door of the office and following the woman to the chairs, sitting down as soon as she did.

Belle brushed away any creases on her dresses as she situated herself on the chair, the chill creating goosebumps on her bare skin.

Seokjin pushed away his blazer careful not to crease the ends as he sat down. Sighing happily, he smiled at the both of them leaning back on the chair. “What can I do for you, Madame Belle? Has Jimin been doing something inappropriate?”

The lavender males’ heart jumped frantically looking over at Belle with wide eyes.

“No. In fact the reason I wanted him here is to thank him…for helping me answer a question I could never wrap my head around.”

“And what question is that?”

Belle searched his expression, heavily impressed with how he could keep such a composure. Deep down she almost worried that her theory might sound silly at the end. “Why would a man with such a heavy security system in his facility—and security guards the size of buildings feel the need to drug a potential threat?” She squinted lightly.

Silence plunged into the room like a welcomed disease as Seokjins’ smile appeared back again even wider. “Well…I have less than glorious methods sometimes but it’s all to protect my beloved angels. Especially my wife.” He explained in the most rehearsed way possible even though they both knew it was merely a dialogue recited many times for people more gullible.

“Angel was never in danger.” The corner of her lip twitched as her goosebumps dialed down through the warmth radiating inside. “Your angels are always safe. At all times. The second something goes wrong, the guards are there in seconds.” Twitching turned into a steady smirk that for the first time Belle did not have to think about or force. “You knew that.”

“Knew what?” Seokjin asked, much to Jimins’ confusion, the man looked utterly pleased with the exchange.

“You knew Taehyung would never do anything to hurt Angel.” Belle shook her head. “You just needed an incident…the perfect incident to get anyone who could carry a simply vial to the Jeon mansion.” She chuckled softly at her own gullibility despite her cried out eyes burning in the harsh cold wind. “The most foolproof infiltration. Make Jungkook’s beloved girlfriend think her brother was terribly sick and sneak a police officer in to play the medic just at the right time.”

The older male grinned brighter than Belle or Jimin had ever seen it. Clearly this was not a dark secret he meant to keep from the woman otherwise the conversation would have turned into something a lot more different. “I must say, Ms. Belle…” Seokjin leaned in and rested his elbows on the table. “I’ve been at this for years now—possibly longer than Jungkook has been leader. Never once did anyone decide to question me or my involvement in traitorous behaviors. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re a powerful man.” Belles’ smile faded away for a moment. “They won’t question anything you do even if they know it’s wrong—because you can make them lose everything with a flick of your fingers.” She pursed her lips together. “I’ve already been one of them once…I’m not doing it again.”

Seokjin nodded slowly, noticing how her gaze mended from shattered shards to the woman who was ready to pick all the pieces up and mend herself together. “And who are you now? Mrs. Jeon Jungkook? Kim Taehyungs’ sister? Or Madame Belle?”

It always came down to this, didn’t it?

In a series of mind breaking and heart clenching events, one rushes out of the woods to find themselves wondering if they were the same person who entered in the first place. Was she still the same little sister who desperately wanted her brother to get better? Was she the perfect wife for Jungkook? Or was she the designer striving to be as successful as Saito herself?

Maybe Belle was all of them combined. Or none of them and this was all a sick dream playing out in her head but it couldn’t be.

The path in front of Belle now split into two; a fork awaiting her to step into to lead into a future that might make more sense than this one.

This felt too real. It didn’t feel good or satisfying nor did it make her feel relaxed.

This was real. It was time for her to wake up and draw the curtains on this fantasy.

Sun began moving over to the other side when Belle drove back to the mansion after feeling a significant brush of relief in her body.

For the first time she walked through the door with an air of both confidence and a little fear when her hand caressed her belly. You’re not going to be born in this mess. I promise. Padding across Belle smiled at Jongho who waited politely just at the entrance before returning a smile of his own with a nod.

Inside the main living room, Yoongi paced around biting down his fingernails mostly trying to stop himself from drinking something at the bar. Not that it would help since it was full with fucking apple juice. He wished he bought a coffee earlier but in his past experiences a boost of caffeine almost never helped with stress.

Footsteps made him pause in his tracks. A rush of calm pulsed through him when Yoongi saw Belle walking towards the male. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He whispered padding closer. “You okay?”

The woman stayed silent, completely dried out of tears and Jimin comforted more than enough. Now the only thing left was that feeling of exposure when the truth finally revealed itself. She felt naked in front of it but free from the lies. “I just went out to the Sangria House, I was safe.” Okay was a difficult word to associate with her right now.

Yoongi nodded fingers curling into themselves before he repeated the same action at the payphone.

“Taehyungs’ there too, I’m told.” Belle didn’t get a chance to catch him but she now knew that Seokjin had no intentions of hurting him in the first place. “Where’s Jungkook?”

He gulped, averting his gaze and gesturing towards the stairs. “He—read the report. Hasn’t come out of the room yet.”

Stomach started doing leaps again, fear rising that she might have another episode with her head over the toilet. Belle hummed mulling over her thoughts before leaning into his cheek and pressing a chaste kiss. One couldn’t even truly call it a kiss, just a light press of her soft lips against his burning skin. When she pulled away the woman smiled proceeding to cause more heat to bundle up inside him. “Thank you.”

Yoongi merely breathed out a sigh unable to speak as Belle gently walked past him up the stairs.

He felt the guards’ eyes on him, some of them judging his reddened cheeks while others smirking. Quickly clearing his throat Yoongi bolted towards the guestroom.

In the same gentleness Belle did earlier, opening the door with care peeking inside briefly before completely entering and closing the door behind her. Turning around Jungkook sat at the edge of the bed just as she was the first time they came into the mansion. His head hung, dark locks forming a slight curtain while his hands rubbed his face, light sniffling riddling the air mixing in with the strong stench of tobacco.

Gaze flickered over to the study table to see a few used cigarettes including one still exuding smoke almost halfway used.

The woman winced accidentally taking a big waft when she tried to breathe in causing her to cough and break the silence.

Jungkooks’ head shot up hearing the sound, quickly jumping off the bed and rushing to the study table. Picking the cigarette he roughly pressed it against the ashtray waving the smoke away from the woman. “I’m sorry.” He muttered in a slightly shaky voice.

“For what?” Belle padded towards the bed to her side, placing her bag on the nightstand before carefully sitting at the edge. Her legs melted into the soft surface finally being able to rest physically at least. Lazily she swung them over fully onto the bed after taking her shoes off, shifting back she rested her back on the headboard.

Jungkook leaned on the edges of the table before hanging his head again. “For everything.”

The vague answer was always the easiest.

Belle reached out for the throw blanket and placed it over the bare parts of her legs providing extra comfort and warmth. “You were stressed, I should’ve waited.” She replied simply.

“You shouldn’t have to wait to tell me something like that.” He shook his head finally turning around to face her. “Six weeks.”

“Six weeks.” Belle gulped, fingers beginning to tremble a little. “I had to make sure.”

Jungkook blinked slowly before nodding as he padded over to his side of the room, pushing off his shoes. Sitting against the headboard the male let out a small sigh as he unbuttoned one more button on his white shirt to feel less constricted. “How big would it be right now?”

“Probably the size of a peanut.” She looked down at her belly and instinctively caressed it.

He immediately flickered down at her belly, still unable truly to understand how a human was going to grow in there. Despite the things Jungkook had seen in his life this was going to be the most surreal of them all. “You’re important to me, Belle.” He reached out and placed a hand over her belly. “Both of you.”

Belle moved her fingers over his and caressing the back of his hand slowly.

“Everything’s a mess right now I can��t—” Jungkook sighed leaning on the side of his head against the headboard. “I can’t think straight.” With his biggest den taken down, one after the other like a cruel domino effect his empire seemed lose each of its pillars. At the same time he had to try and pick all the pieces while protecting the standing pillars making his mind curl up into itself. As if a survival mode to get away from extreme stress.

She shook her head, patting his hand. “It’s okay.” Belle whispered knowing the word lost all its meaning a long time ago.

Jungkook tilted his head to search her expression watching the dull sunlight shine onto her locks making them look golden. Like a sailor being allured to the siren, he leaned in and pressed a kiss on her cheek and another on just on the corner of her lips. “I want you to be happy.” Nose nudged against her cheek.

Belle closed her eyes momentarily feeling his hot kisses against her skin, heavy remnants of tobacco on his breath forcing her to breathe through her mouth for a while.

Pulling away, the male shifted to lay his head on Belle’s lap facing her belly and blanket covered thighs used as a pillow. Finger traced at the little creases on the dress from her sited position as Jungkook relished in the scent of her perfume hopefully masking his cigarette riddled one. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the empire.” He whispered, gaze fixated on her belly. “So long you’re both happy…I’d give everything else up.”

Her heart swelled for a brief moment as Belle allowed herself to succumb back into the comforts of his words. His beautiful lies. “Do you promise?” Shaky hand moved to brush through Jungkook’s hair.

His gaze flickered up to meet her glossy one, giving her a soft smile. “I promise.” Jungkook looked back down at her belly caressing her skin through the clothing. “I’ll always keep you happy.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip to suppress the sob being forced out of her, closing her eyes shut tightly to stop the tears but they merely created constellations on the womans’ lashes. Letting out a small sigh she relaxed into his touch, struggling to swallow down the lump in her throat.

Quickly for one of the final times Belle forced herself to stretch a smile across her lips.

I’m not happy.

Cheeks finally cooled down as Yoongi leaned back on the chair of his temporary bedroom, dark as the thick curtains perfectly shielded him from the sunlight. Fingers scratched at the fabric of the armrest not thinking of anything in particular but merely drowning in an empty zone away from reality just for a few moments. He grew accustomed to this feeling after seeing one too many dead bodies of children.

Two knocks rapped on the door before it opened to reveal the senior maid, Nana. “Hello, Master Osamu.” She smiled closing the door behind her and walking further inside to do her usual cleaning starting with fixing his bed up.

Yoongi made it himself but unfortunately not the way that it was usually designed to fit the aesthetic of the house since most of the fancy cushions were on the floor. “Sorry I’ll—” He tried to get up from the chair.

“No no it’s okay. This is my job after all.” Nana chuckled picked up all the cushions and threw them onto the bed to make it easier for her to organize them.

The younger male smiled and relaxed back onto the seat with a light sigh.

“You did well. Helping Mistress Belle like that.” She muttered placing all the bigger pillows close to the headboard then the medium ones just afterwards.

Yoongi chuckled nervously observing her actions and how effortlessly she put everything in place when it took his entire soul to neaten the blanket. “What’re friends for?” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Nana smirked, fluffing the larger pillows. “Just friends?”

Eyes widened at the sudden change of tone from the older female making him stammer a little as he spoke.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, boy.” She continued speaking casually while wiping off the collected on the side lamp. “This isn’t just an undercover mission anymore and you know it.”

Yoongi could have sworn his core shivered hearing those words so easily fall from Nana’s lips without a damn care in the world. Glancing over at the door of his bedroom, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “How did you—”

“I raised Jungkook, you think I wouldn’t be able to see a rat under my nose?” Nana continued to keep her gaze anywhere but the younger male pretending like they were either having a regular conversation or none at all since Yoongis’ tongue seemed to lose its purpose. “Don’t get so scared. I don’t rat police officers out, you’re doing the right thing.” She neatened up Yoongis’ things on the nightstand. “Every king needs to be taught that they can crumble just as easily as a servant.”

Once everything stood in order, Nana stood in front of the male with a bright smile. “And every servant knows when to help the right people. I clean Jungkooks’ office too.” She gave him a bow and turned on her heel to leave the room.

Needless to say Yoongi was heavily reminded of how Namjoon and him were not the only ones who wanted an end to Jungkooks’ reign.

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merryhelps · 4 years ago

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plotting etiquette : a players guide

[ coming soon / an admins guide ]

plotting is an essential part to writing together; whether you’re in a group, an indie blog or even a 1x1, you need to be able to communicate with your peers in order to build a story. and that’s why we’re all here, right? to create worlds, no matter what the context, and most importantly, to do this with others. roleplaying is a team effort - no matter what universe you’re writing in. below the cut are some helpful tips, tricks and advice to remember when attempting to plot with others. if you’ve found this guide useful, please like and/or reblog to spread the word - and hopefully help out others along the way. ***a part two will be out next week for admins on how to promote and help your group with plotting.

i. ‘i’m scared of bothering people!’

this is a statement i’ve seen the most often around the rpc - whether it’s from a various text post people reblog, or as an admin who’s been on the receiving end of messages like this.

it’s important to remember that most of us get a little nervous about reaching out. while writing original pieces or fanfiction can give you some distance between the creating portion and the feedback process, there’s no real space for roleplaying. it’s an instantaneous thing - we put our words out there on the screen, and someone else has to reply to that in some capacity.

whether you’re an extrovert, an introvert or something in between, this can often be the beginning of the end for a lot of roleplayers. maybe you’ve joined an established group, and it seems like everyone has set dynamics and you don’t want to shake things up. or maybe you’re an indie blog, but you’re too scared to talk to someone you’ve idolized and want to write with.

the thing is, you can’t expect people to know what you want if you can’t verbalize it yourself. let them know you’re a little nervous ! chances are, they are too. we’re all on this platform trying to do the same thing, and everyone gets nervous about exposing themselves to strangers now and again. ultimately, we put a little piece of ourselves in every character we create, and that can be terrifying to show to people and expect them to accept. but a little effort goes a long way - making the first move can often help build a bridge to someone you might not have otherwise gotten the chance to write with. you’re going to have to take a risk sometimes. while not everyone is going to be receptive, most people will be. and chances are, if you start with something as simple as “hi, i’d love the chance to write / plot with you,” you’ll be met with an extraordinarily excited new partner. understand that if they don’t, it’s not a bad thing ! some writing styles don’t mesh together, some people have a harder time talking freely than others, and so many of us regularly forget to reply to a message. know that if you’ve put yourself out there, that’s a huge step in the right direction, no matter what comes of it, and next time it’ll be even easier.

ii. come prepared.

this is ultimately where a lot of players fall short. it’s one thing to say ‘let’s plot’, and another thing to do it altogether. you need to have some sort of jumping off point.

some ideas include:

a prompt / plot idea.

this is especially important if it’s a new person you’re trying to interact with. it’s difficult to come up with things on the spot, and if you’re reaching out, you need to have something to reach out with.

in a group you’ll want to take the time to read their biography / about / wanted connections if they have them listed. it’s a quick way to ensure you have a basis of what they want, and how you and your characters can then fill those needs.

as an indie / 1x1 see if they have any ‘wanted plots’ or ‘prompts’ tags. check out their ask memes tags. ensure you’ve read their guidelines on both of these, and follow them. while most people have similar rules, you can’t know that for sure unless you’ve read through them.

questions about their character(s).

everyone adores talking about their own characters - give them an opportunity to let them tell you about theirs! even if they’re playing a canon character, they’ll have their own take on them, with headcanons and quirks and hobbies that might not show up in the specific canon the character comes from.

use ask memes if you need help coming up with questions - ask memes are extraordinarily helpful when it comes to fleshing out muses for developmental purposes as it is, and while they’re usually made for general tumblr interaction, they can be a great jumping off point for talking specifics.

don’t be afraid to point out things in their bio / about / etc. this shows that you’ve gone through and read their pages, which shows that you care about them as a person and a character, and not merely another faceclaim.

talk about your character(s).

it’s always good, especially in a group, to have a small statement of facts about your character. in business, this is called an ‘elevator pitch’ - a few concise sentences that can get someone else interested.

for example, merrick wood is a former cheerleader who would do absolutely anything for her sister, holly, has no real ambitions and loves the weird and supernatural. you can find her swimming, or listening to mix cd’s she makes for her own amusement, or even on the hunt for big foot. this now gives the other player a few things to pick through - what kind of music is she listening to? why is her sister so important to her? is cheerleading still important enough for her to mention it to someone?

iii. plotting is a two way street.

the above two points work on the basis that you’ve made the first move - but say you’re the one who’s gotten the message of someone eager to plot with you ! takes a little stress off of your plate, but adds to their own. no matter what, remember that there is a real person on the other side of the screen. be kind, and treat them how you’d want to be treated - even if you’re not interested in writing with them, let them know ! a simple thanks for the message! i’m honored you’re interested in my characters, but at the moment i don’t think we’d be a good fit is enough of a response that most people should leave it at that. if you get a message saying they’re not interested, simply say ‘thank you for replying!’ and move on. as stated above, not everyone will always click - respect people’s boundaries, and understand that you’ll find a new partner in due time.

responding to plotting messages is as important as creating them; if someone says they want to plot and gives you ideas, play off of them. don’t simply say ‘okay!’ or ‘cool!’ - a habit a lot of people have had over the years.

example. if jenny says “i think it would be great if robert could surprise them with flowers,” reply wth “oh how cute!!!” and end there - expand on it, adding your own input - “that’s so cute! denise adores lilacs, and would be flustered to get them from someone she admires so much!” the latter sentence gives your partner something to respond to, something to work with, and may just end up being in the thread you write together!

iv. don’t make your admins do all the work.

this section is primarily for group roleplayers.

your admin(s) already do so much. behind the scenes, there’s constantly updating the main pages, queueing ads, coming up with tasks and events and plot drops to keep players entertained and happy. at the same time, they’re trying to play in the group with you - create their own stories, write their own characters. they should not have to spoon feed you plots. these are things you need to develop on your own and with fellow players.

example. in a town rp, and you have a social butterfly character ? throw a birthday party for a character, giving the other characters something to participate in without an official Admin Sponsored Event. you should of course ensure the admin is okay with you having ‘events’ like the above for various players, and you need to ensure you’re inclusive in them - don’t ‘throw a party’ and not invite half the group because you don’t want to plot with them. take the time to message players of characters who might not normally show up and figure out something else with them, or a reason why they would be there or even why they wouldn’t!

v. stop bubbling.

at the end of the day, plotting together is the best way to stop bubbling from happening in your group. no one wants to be the player left out of everything - make sure to try and reach out to the others, especially if you think other players may be ignoring them. writing together - in a group, on an indie, anywhere really - is supposed to be fun and challenging and a different experience every time. before you go to your admins about being left out / ignored, ask yourself if you’ve done the above. have you messaged other players ? asked them about their characters, and given ideas of potential prompts for the two of you to write ? if you have, and you’re still getting ignored, then absolutely talk to your admin team! but try and be proactive instead of reactive and you’d be amazed at how far you can go.

hopefully this guide will help you - remember, your roleplay experience is ultimately cultivated by yourself. you choose which groups to apply to, which characters to bring, and your attitudes and behaviors can affect your gameplay. being in a group, specifically, is about being a part of a team. become a team player, and you and your characters can find the roleplay family of your dreams ♡

#rph #rpt #guide #plotting etiquette #writing help #rp advice #©#© | guide #© ashley #requested

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yongtxt · 5 years ago

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hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

2K notes · View notes

kim-miri · 4 years ago

Text

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iv

→ one | two | three

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part four / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 3,118

☾iv.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾iv. part iv: the mafia(1/2)

The ambience within the car was calm, or at least a calm for the situation at hand.

Sayomi was curious about what kind of job she was being forced into, but at the same time, she wanted to maintain her composed facade by staying quiet.

She decided to start with a subtle question. “So… who exactly are you guys anyway?”

The man seated next to her answered without an ounce of hesitation, “The mafia.”

Well, shit. So much for a subtle question.

Sayomi was thrown off by the man’s response for the first time since they’d showed up.

The mafia… what would they want with a nobody from Meteor City?

Her parents had often spoken of the Mafia. They had a reputation of harboring no-name assassins who’d overrun the market with their skill and mass numbers.

No names… Mother once said that the most notorious criminals hailed from the dumps in Meteor City. Because… their records didn’t exist! They couldn’t be traced, but I wasn’t born there. Do they know that?

Sayomi was on edge now, having a vague idea of what they might be planning to do with her. “What, am I gonna be one of the Mafia’s little assassins now?”

The man smirked at her quick deduction abilities. “You’re a bright one I see, Sayomi Zoldyck.” His tone had roughed up at her last name.

He knows.

“Well, seeing that you know who I am. You should also be aware that my family would never let me work for another group, right?”

He moved in his seat, turning to face her slightly as he sensed a long conversation. “And that’s why they left you here? Because they care about you?”

She grimaced at the hard truth behind his words.

In an attempt to hide her deflating ego, she replied an icy tone, “Don’t make assumptions. You people know nothing about my family.”

The man let out a monotonous laugh. “Ms Zoldyck, I’m not trying to start a fight here. We didn’t take you to use against your family or anything of that sort. We simply came to recruit our next line of assassins... and what a coincidence! The family we were following called one day to say they had a proposal for us, and that’s where you came in. It was just the luck of our draw that you happened to stumble upon the exact family of who would’ve been our next assassin.”

Ayame.

The man continued, “So please, rest assured we will not attempt to harm you or notify your family of your whereabouts. That would only be bad for both of us, correct?”

Sayomi nodded in defeat. She hadn’t stopped to think about the possibilities of her captors being a group so far up the food chain.

It’s true I don’t exactly want to go back home anyway. Maybe I’ll stick around and see what happens.

Sayomi closed her eyes as she leaned up against the cool glass of the window. Her head was throbbing from the sudden onset of overwhelming information, and all she wanted now was to let herself drift off into sleep.

Noting the lack of words from the teen beside him, the man made quiet movements to revert back to his original position, opting to stare out the window as the remainder of the car ride went without another word.

Deep in her dreams, Sayomi felt an emotion she hadn’t experienced since she was abandoned.

Happiness.

☾ iv.

Inside Sayomi’s dreams.

Sayomi looked down at herself to see she was wearing the kimono she had on the day her mother left her. There’s no way it could still fit her now, having grown almost half a foot, but there she was.

Fine, black silk ran elegantly down her shoulders, arms, and body. The silver accents shone like moonlight reflecting off of her form, while a shocking violet color made up the wrap around her waist.

“Sayomi! Get your head out of the clouds! If I beat you this time I’m taking your new daggers!”

Her head whipped up at the familiar squeaky voice. “Illumi?” she mumbled.

At the sound of his name, the boy turned back towards her, mid-run. The wide smile on his face was replaced by a frown as he noticed Sayomi’s perplexed expression.

Sayomi said nothing, however, only running towards her twin as she reached out to envelop her ever 10 year old brother in a hug.

But upon contact with Illumi, he vanished into thin air, taking the familiar scene of the courtyard away with him.

In a split second, she was back in Meteor City.

Sayomi blinked twice before slumping down into the sickening piles of junk and filth, sobbing as the absence of her other half sparked her back into reality.

“Ms Zoldyck”, a man’s voice echoed through her dreams.

“Ms Zoldyck”, once again and she opened her eyes-

☾ iv.

Sayomi blinked several times, spotting the reflection of herself slumped against the car door in the window.

It was much brighter now, the sun having risen far overhead while she had been asleep.

She squinted at the scenery whizzing by outside the window, sighing in defeat when she failed to recognize her new surroundings.

“Good Morning Ms Zoldyck. We have about a half an hour left to our destination.”

Bidding a slurred ‘good morning’ to the voice in return as she stretched her limbs, a weight dropped in her chest as she remembered why she was here.

Making use of the time left before her arrival, Sayomi attempted to wake herself further as she mentally prepared for the events to come.

15 more minutes in, and the nature that made up the scenery outside began to clear as Yorknew City came into view.

Worries aside, Sayomi stared at the rapidly approaching city in awe. She had yet to have visited Yorknew City, as her parents had felt she wasn’t ready for the big jobs yet.

But now she faced the megacity at last. She couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of being in the bustling city of Yorknew on her own.

She was like a teenager who had snuck out to the mall while her parents were at work.

There was something so exhilarating about going against her parents’ words, even if it was unintentional. In the back of her mind, she felt crazy for cracking a smile in the situation she was in, but the 16 year old side of her ignored it as she let herself enjoy the moment.

Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.

☾ iv.

Arriving at their destination, the three black cars pulled up in front of a luxurious hotel.

Sayomi looked up at the building in awe, her breath fogging up the glass as she gaped at the forever extending floors of the hotel.

The driver of her designated car stepped out, followed by the man on her left.

Rounding about the back of the car, the man opened the door on Sayomi’s side, gesturing for her to exit the vehicle.

She quickly obliged, slinging her katana over her shoulder as the men from the other two cars accompanied her into the lobby.

Sayomi was once again awestruck by the interior of the hotel, everything around her seeming to scream ‘high-class’ and ‘wealthy’. It was a stark contrast to the rags she wore, having no other clothes besides the now tiny kimono she’d left back at Meteor City.

Although the mansion was without a doubt far larger and much pricier than the hotel in which she stood, Sayomi was mesmerized by the people, walking around or sitting in groups, their friendly bonds shining through the crowds.

Back at home, Sayomi’s only ‘friends’ had been Illumi and the butlers. She had yet to experience what it was like to have real friends, her parents seeing them only as a distraction to her job.

She was pulled away from her thoughts as one of the men nudged her to keep walking, the group making their way to the elevators.

Stopping in midway through the hall in wait of an elevator, the man who had been sitting next Sayomi in the car spoke up, “Welcome to your new temporary home, Ms Zoldyck.”

Home? I get to stay in this classy hotel?

The man broke through her thoughts once again, “As I told you before, as long as you behave and prove to be a valuable asset to us, we will treat you with the utmost respect.”

Sayomi made brief eye contact with the man, still wary of the offputting kindness they were showing her. Nevertheless, she nodded, not wanting to ruin the rare opportunity.

A loud ding signified the arrival of their elevator, and the same man accompanied Sayomi into the elevator, the rest of the members turning to head back out of the building.

Inside the elevator, the man held two buttons down at the same time, the top two floors: 49 and 50. Sayomi tilted her head, curious of the maneuver. “Why two floors?” she asked.

The man looked over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrows at her question.

“It’s a secret floor. For the Mafia and our hired assassins. Just above the 50th floor.”

Sayomi’s mouth formed a round O, clearly impressed by the revelation of a secret floor. Just how influential are these people? They have their own floor and everything.

The two of them waited in silence for the remainder of the time, only moving when the elevator arrived at their floor.

Sayomi followed the man out into the hallway ahead, mindlessly reading the different room numbers as they passed her by. 5102… 5104… 5106… 5108-

“Alright Ms Zoldyck, this will be your room for the time being. Inside you’ll find a uniform along with any other supplies you’ll be needing while we’re here. I’ll come back in about half an hour to get you started on the job, so in the meantime please change into the uniform and get settled.” And with that, the man handed Sayomi a room key while explaining how the elevators were locked, meaning she couldn’t escape.

Accepting the room key, Sayomi hummed in agreement before entering her new room.

Room # 5110

Two steps into the room, her heart raced with excitement at the view in front of her.

The room itself wasn’t the impressive part, being a small square with a bed and bathroom. It was the view from the large window in front of her that made her exclaim in delight.

Having grown up on Kukuroo mountain with only the occasional trip to the outside world, the vast city and its bustling streets made Sayomi swoon, her heart restless for a chance to explore the beautiful city.

Noticing the uniform hanging in the closet as mentioned, Sayomi made quick work to change into the fresh set of clothes, ditching her rags.

It was a classic black suit with black dress shoes, matching the clothes of the men that had accompanied her here from Meteor City. The change in outfits restricted the usual placement of her band of needles, and she opted to tuck the band into her pocket instead.

A knock on her door interrupted the silence, as the man asked through the door if she was ready to begin the job.

She replied with a “yes”, moving to sling her katana over her shoulder as she exited the room.

☾ iv.

“When we don’t have specific targets for you, this will be your job.” the man started to say.

Sayomi stared at the walkie talkie now in her hands.

“You’ll be staged as a bodyguard for the VIPs that visit the hotel. It’s nothing hard, just a deal we keep with the management to keep our floor up here a secret” he continued.

She nodded in understanding. A bodyguard, huh. Maybe I’ll at least get some action this way.

“Ah, right. The walkie talkie I gave you will notify you of incoming VIP clients. All you have to do is accompany them with your assigned team to their room, where you’ll stand guard either inside or outside. 50 percent of the time the VIP will have a few assassins after them, but the other 50 percent stay and go with no problems.” He started walking back up the hall to the elevators.

Sayomi followed closely behind, asking a question once she stepped into the elevator. “For those 50 percent- the ones targeted by assassins, I mean. Is it fair game to kill their attackers?”

The man laughed out loud. “But of course, disposing of any attackers would only mean a safer client. Do as you wish as long as the VIP’s safety is ensured.”

The assassin blood that ran through Sayomi’s veins was bleeding through. It seemed her inevitable instinct to kill would always resurface, no matter how sympathetic or innocent she tried to become.

Back down at the hotel’s lobby once again, Sayomi now blended in with the numerous other bodyguards dressed in black suits.

Sayomi’s escort pointed towards the main entrance of the hotel. “Ms Zoldyck, you’ll be stationed with Team 3 over by the fountain right outside. Introduce yourself or don’t, just stand posted until your team is dispatched through the walkie talkies.”

Before she could even respond, the man took off walking back to the elevators, leaving Sayomi to find her way to her post.

Wow, alright then.

Sneering at the man’s abrupt exit, Sayomi tied back her hair, taking a second to compose herself before walking out to the fountain to join her team.

Finding the line of bodyguards quite literally stationed in front of the fountain, the man’s instructions echoed in her head as she decided on the latter, keeping from introducing herself.

The team now had 6 members with the addition of Sayomi, and the others took a moment to size up their new member.

Sayomi did likewise, glancing down the row of suit-clad bodyguards. There were 4 men and 1 other woman, all of them looking to be around their mid-20s.

Talk about a let down, they’re all at best D-ranked assassins.

Unimpressed at the lack of powerful auras amongst her new allies, Sayomi’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the busy street with a lack of enthusiasm.

Figuring out a way to pass the time, Sayomi settled for analyzing the hundreds of people that walked by. She was curious about the so-called urban culture she had heard so much about from Ayame back in Meteor City.

Though Sayomi wasn’t completely detached from society, she had still spent a large portion of her life either trapped in the mansion or, recently, in Meteor City. This being, she was fascinated by the little things, such as the different types of clothing people in the city wore, or the billboards and neon signs that began to light up the streets as evening fell upon Yorknew City.

I wonder what I’d look like if I wore a dress like that… nah but it’s probably impossible to run in anyway.

Looking down at the modest outfit she wore and back to the woman passing by wearing a rather revealing dress, she pouted.

It must be nice to be able to enjoy the nightlife in a city like this. Maybe when i’m older-

The static sounds of her team’s walkie talkies cut through her thoughts, finally dispatching their assignment for the next few days.

“Team 3. VIP client Adachi Yuto is arriving in less than one minute. The vehicle is a black Maserati and the assigned room will be 4823. Current stay will be 3 days.”

In unison, Sayomi and the rest of the team straightened their postures, now on alert while they awaited the VIP’s arrival.

Right on time at about a minute later, a black Maserati pulled up to the curb in front of the team. A few of the members began walking towards the car, and the rest including Sayomi followed suit.

The driver opened the door to the backseat in front of them, and a man looking to be in his early 20s stepped out, thanking the driver.

Must be the VIP.

Her fellow bodyguards started to move almost automatically, forming a circle around the young man. Sayomi quickly found her spot in the formation, walking behind the VIPs right side as the group made their way into the hotel.

Her team seemed to be far experienced, as they walked straight to the elevators without another word or break in formation. It was a silent trip up to floor 48, the VIP remaining occupied on his phone for the entirety of the ride.

Once arriving at room 4823, one of the bodyguards finally spoke, addressing the VIP. “Mr. Yuto, would you like any of us to accompany you inside?”

The VIP politely declined, only looking up from his phone to briefly thank the team for their hard work.

With the VIP turning in for the night, the 3 day timer began for the team. They would take turns in pairs, staying posted outside the VIP’s room, the others going to get rest before switching in once again.

One of the men volunteered to take the first shift, along with the other woman in group, leaving the rest of them to rest until their shifts came around.

Sayomi was paired with one of the remaining men to take the next shift. He was a stocky, sturdy-looking man, most likely one of the older members of the group from the signs of age evident in his facial features.

Agreeing to come back around to the post 15 minutes prior to their shift, the two returned to their rooms on the 51st floor.

☾ iv.

Sayomi flopped down onto her bed upon returning to her room.

Man, this job is getting boring already.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she decided to get some rest while she could. She had about 4 hours until the shift change, her break being in the most inconvenient time frame.

Sayomi’s shift would be in the dead of night, from 1 am to 5 am.

Not bothering to move underneath the blankets or even untie her hair, Sayomi fell into a deep sleep with her legs dangling off the side of the bed. Her mind and body were both exhausted from the day’s past events, and all she wanted now was to move on from what’d already occurred.

Because the past isn’t important… right?

That’s what she chose to believe for now, but she also knew in the back of her mind that sooner or later the past would come back and find her.

☾ iv.

to be continued.

a/n: my taglist is open!

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Get Hurt {Dean Winchester x Reader}

Requested by: @fandomofyourchoice-89 Wordcount: 3973 Summary: Arguing with Dean is never fun. Getting into an accident after you leave said argument is even worse. But such things can have a silver lining. Notes: Some swearing.

You might have offered a lot of things to Dean Winchester, but your freedom was not one of those things. A bit of flesh here, a bit of blood there was one thing, but letting him dictate who you am allowed to talk to - and when? That was asking too much of you. When you woke up to a good morning text from the bartender you were chatting with the night before, you had been feeling pretty on top of the world. It was nice to have a little bit of positive attention, even if it wasn’t exactly from the person you were hoping to have it from. Dean may know monsters, but he couldn’t pick up on your feelings, even from a foot away. He snatched the phone out of your hand to see who the text was from, joking that it was probably from your mom, but when he saw the unfamiliar number, he went from teasing to overprotective. That was not the Dean that you liked to see. He was treating you like you were his car, when someone else was trying to get in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you of all people!” You said, wrinkling your nose as you pulled on your sweater for the day. The weather outside wasn’t at the point of frightful, but it was still chilly for the early fall. It helped you to feel less exposed to Dean’s eyes as well, which was good with how sharp they were being today.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean shot back. You looked over at Sam, hoping for some sort of aid, but there was nothing there. The tall moose of a man just disappeared into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him. On one hand, that was a smart move. Your fights with Dean were known to be explosive, though they didn’t happen very often. It was usually just sarcastic comments. But no amount of sass was enough to express your anger today. You were not in the mood to deal with this shit. Not today, and not ever. On the other, it was annoying. You could really use the back up.

“It means that you don’t get to lecture me about a single text message, when you’re the one who always goes home with the bartenders, the single moms, who even knows anymore. Any woman gives you a pretty smile and you swoon off into the sunset, leaving Sam and I behind. And you’re giving me hell over a single text? Really?”

“I don’t sleep with every girl, and it shouldn’t matter! I work hard, I deserve to have a little fun.”

“The fact that you don’t think I work hard enough to exchange numbers with one guy is insulting, Winchester. Downright insulting. You threw your coat on over your sweater, given the weather - and you just wanted to have as much of your clothes on as possible. And there was good reason for that. “You know that vacation that I’ve been talking about taking? I’m leaving today. Right now, actually. Goodbye to your storm cloud, hello sunny California.”

“You don’t get to walk away like this,” Dean said, going to the door that lead to the outside world, and folded his arms. “We have a lot of work to do in this area, Bobby said-”

“Then you better get to it then, shouldn’t you? No time to waste. Not for Dean, the hard working man! And since I hardly do anything, according to you, I should leave. I wouldn’t want to be a hindrance to your greatness!”

In response to this, all that you got was silence. You threw your bag over your shoulder, and put your helmet under your arm, ready to leave. Your bike was calling you, and you were looking forward to the dust blowing under your tires back out on the open road. The problem was that Dean still wasn’t moving.

“Get out of my way, Winchester,” You said, reverting to last names. That tended to be how you reacted when angry at him.

“No,” He said, his biceps flexing beneath the flannel shirt that was keeping him warm. “You know that we need you-”

“And I need away from you!” You shouted, exasperated. “Either you are going to move from that door, or so help me, I’m going to call the police on your credit card scams.”

It was one of the few threats that you had under your belt. Sure, he and Sam would get booked and it would take a couple of hours for Bobby to talk them out of it, but that was a couple of hours horribly wasted.

“Fine, leave, just walk away,” Dean’s deep voice seemed to go even deeper as he moved away from the door.

“Fuck you,” You said, giving him the finger as you walked out of the motel room. It felt good to leave that negativity behind. That overbearing feeling that made you feel as if Dean only saw you as a little sister, rather than as the capable woman that you knew you were. Actually, it was like he didn’t see you as a woman at all, which was hurtful. You’ve loved him so long and-

And you were going to leave that behind, just for a little while. You would come back eventually. The Winchester charm always got to you, the same way that it did for every other woman that Dean talked to. It was the shy, stoic nature behind those green eyes. The way that he quietly seemed to look into your soul, and never had a complaint about what was found.

Think of the palm trees that you were going to see. Think of the beaches, the waves rolling on the sand. Think of being able to lay out and feel the sun on your skin. You could order fruity alcohol drinks from hot waiters wearing only their bathing suits. Maybe you’ll even spot a Kardashian, which you could rub into Dean’s face. You could roll over and say, “Ha, Dean, I spotted her first!”

Except for the fact that Dean wouldn’t be there. It was just as much a break from him as it was a break from the hunt.

You got onto your bike, put the helmet atop your head, and backed away from the black impala as quickly as you could. You refused to look back. That would just be giving Dean satisfaction that you were having second thoughts.

You turned out of the motel and ended up on a long stretch of road that lead west. That was exactly the way that you wanted to go. There weren’t many people about, considering this wasn’t one of the big highways though that would be coming soon.

You slowed down as you saw a shadow dart out across the road, coming from one of the patches of trees. It startled you enough that you lost your balance on the bike, and it started to wobble beneath you. You braced yourself for the crash as the bike finally decided which side it was going to fall on, and you skidded off of the concrete onto the brush by the side of the road. All you can remember is trying to make sure the bike didn’t land too hard on your leg, for it could easily break it.

When you came to, you were hearing arguing. The familiar sound of Dean’s voice. “Leave Sammy alone,” You groaned, before opening your eyes. Instead of the expected scene of a motel room, you were surprised to see that you were in a hospital bed. And instead of Dean arguing with his brother, it was a small woman in scrubs that was giving Dean hell.

You remembered everything in that instant, and reached up to touch your head, expecting the worst case scenario. You were anticipating blood or bruises or waking up with a huge bulging eye like Quasimodo in the Disney film. Your chin was a bit tender, since that part hadn’t been entirely covered by the helmet, but the rest of your face felt fine. Dean was watching over you with those stern eyes of his, and suddenly you wished that you were ugly. Then he wouldn’t give you shit for leaving because you already suffered the consequences.

“Don’t start,” You said, looking at him before turning your attention to the Doctor. Or nurse, you couldn’t quite tell. “I definitely feel the effects of the painkillers so I don’t really know what’s wrong.”

The doctor went into professional mode, coming to your side and checking the IV bag that was giving you fluids. “I’m Dr. Williams, you’re in the Kansas Medical Center, and you’re going to be just fine, first and foremost. You did break two of your ribs, but neither ended up piercing any organs. You did fracture your femur and patella, though with some physiotherapy once the cast is off, you should be back to normal, unless you were running marathons.”

“Not quite,” You said, breathing out in relief. Though that did make you well aware of the odd feeling in your chest. Those pesky broken ribs, no doubt.

The doctor left the room after giving you another sweep, and an idea of how long you may have to be in the hospital for. Another night of observation, then she wanted to have you come in for physiotherapy. You said you would, though no doubt you would be back on the road before then, and doing your own exercises. This wasn’t the first time that you’ve broken a bone, though it was the first time it happened outside of a hunt. You figured you knew enough to take care of it on your own.

“What, because I left you had to argue with the Doctor too? Your temper knows no bounds, Winchester,” You said to Dean once Sam stepped out to get some coffee. Dean looked far from amused at that. “Did our insurance scam not go through?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Dean said, closing the door to your private room. That alone told you that the insurance went through. There’s no way that they would put you in a room like this unless they were getting the big bucks. American Medical Care at it’s finest. “You were an inch away from puncturing a lung. If the farmer didn’t see you wipe out-”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that being friends with angels had a hand in that,” You leaned back against the pillow rather than attempted to sit up. Dean came to stand at the end of the bed, and clenched his fists around the bars at the end of it. “Look, I don’t know how they got a hold of you, or what you think you’re doing, but I’m still taking off to California. Just ... bring my bike to Bobby’s and I’ll fix it when I get back. I’ll just fly, or bus as soon as I can sit up properly.”

“The hell you are,” He raised his voice at you. He hadn’t straight up yelled at you like that in quite some time, even while he was angry. It was startling. “We are all sticking around here, and you are going to listen to the Doctor’s orders.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” You muttered. No Winchester was good at following orders, not even from a well-meaning Doctor. And because of how much time you’ve spent around them, you might as well have been one.

“Excuse me?” He asked, quick to hear your words.

“You’re not well known for following anyone’s orders, Winchester. You just like giving them out, even when completely unwarranted. Like right now,” You glared at him. “Did you just come here to tell me more about what I should and shouldn’t do? To gloat? Just tell me what you want from me, so that we can move on, honestly. This is getting old.”

“I want you to be safe!” He said, his hands tightening around the rails, the knuckles turning white. “I don’t want you off with some random guy, and I don’t want you alone in California and I don’t want you to crash your stupid damn bike on a country road!”

“Why do you think that I can’t take care of myself? We’ve been hunting together for years now!”

The look in his eye after I said this made me sink a little into myself. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And the hurt that he was feeling made me understand that he was leaving no bit of road unpaved.

“You ended up in the hospital because you ran away,” Dean said, leaning down low, hanging his head so that you could no longer see his expression. That didn’t mean that the pain was invisible, though. “And I’m the one that made you do that.”

“And if I died, you would blame yourself,” You sighed, catching his line of thinking. “But I’m okay. I’m always okay.” You would have gone to the other end of the bed and touched his hand if you could. You could feel the anger and the guilt radiating off of him, like black lines in an anime show. But the discomfort, and pain which was starting to come through despite the meds, was making you stay where you were. “Alright, I have an idea.”

He lifted his head slightly at that, his eyes wide and glistening like a Disney princess. The great Dean Winchester, crying?

“Buy me a burger, bring it back here and we’ll have a dinner and talk - actually talk, not yell at each other this time, okay?”

After you were released from the hospital, limping on a cast that was a huge hindrance, things began to change. You couldn’t tell if it was from guilt or because Dean actually wanted to take care of you. But you let him do whatever it was that he wanted to do, because it was the only way for him to cope with what had happened. You and Sam had talked about it late one night when Dean was out to get you your favorite burger, and both agreed that it was best to let this run it’s course, unless he got entirely overbearing again. It was bound to happen sooner or later though. He had already offered to carry you to Baby on more than one occasion rather than let you hobble.

“Dean,” You groaned for the second time that day, though you were definitely blushing more this time. It was a good thing that he couldn’t see through the bathroom door. He was just on the other side of it, so he could hear you, though. “I can bathe by myself. You’re just getting perverted now.”

“I just want to help,” He said, being able to hear that stupid damn smirk on his face. God, he was irresistible. Even you had to admit that it had been nice to have him pamper you. But now he was wanting to help you wash in the bath while your cast had to be raised up on the edge of the tub. It had been a little difficult to get in and out of lately.

You wrapped the robe tighter around your body. “If I agree...” You said, coyly, biting on your lip, fingers against the lock. “Do you promise that you won’t look.”

“Depends,” He said, and you saw the door physically move, like he was leaning against it. “Are there going to be bubbles to help cover you up?”

You looked behind you at the bathtub that was about half full. You had a small pile of bathbombs that you bought online to at least try to make the experience a little better. It took a lot longer to get in and out of the bath, so you might as well make it as pretty as possible. “There might be a few bubbles, but the water will be colored,” You admitted. It would hide some parts of your body pretty well. But others would be sticking out.

“I promise I’ll try my best,” was all that Dean had to offer.

“Okay just umm - just give me a second, alright?” You unlocked the door to the bathroom, then attempted to take a step backwards, but pushed a little too roughly on your casted foot. A sharp pain went through your leg and you cursed yourself for being so stupid.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, his ears catching onto that.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a minute, alright?” You called out. You took off the robe, and grabbed the towel instead. You wrapped it around your body in a way that it would be easy to take off once you were ready to sink down into the water. What you really needed help with was keeping your balance as you went down, since you had to keep one leg up. Even then, you had it wrapped in cellophane so it wasn’t as likely to get wet. You definitely regretted taking off the way that you did.

You put your good foot into the water, then crouched down, attempting to go on your own as far as you could, but you felt yourself wobbling. You had to put your casted leg on the ground outside of the tub again. You didn’t trust yourself not to fall. Holding the towel tightly against your chest, you finally said, “Okay, I need help. But don’t look, okay?”

The door slowly opened and Dean came inside, one hand covering his eyes and the other reaching out to try to grab a hold of something. He himself nearly tripped on the small carpet and you had to hold your hand out to steady him. You sighed, wondering if he was being this bad on purpose. “Alright, just hold my hand and help me get down, yeah?”

Dean could at least do this. As you got closer to the water, you slid your towel off with the hand that Dean wasn’t holding, and tossed it outside of the tub.

“What was that?” He questioned right away.

“My towel,” You admitted to him. “So keep your damn eyes closed.”

“Eyes closed. Scout’s honor.”

“As if you were a scout.”

You balanced your bad leg on top of the lip of the bathtub so it was jutting out. It was a bit awkward but once you were sitting in the tub, and leaned back, it was a lot better. You sighed contently, then realized that Dean was still holding onto your hand. You quickly snatched it out of his grip then closed the shower curtain on him so he couldn’t see anything anyway. “I’m all sorted, thanks.”

“No problem,” He said from the other side of the curtain. You waited for him to leave but you didn’t hear any footsteps, nor the bathroom door open and close. But what you did see was one side of the curtain moving slightly, as if it were being pulled ever so slowly.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Can’t blame a man for trying,” He chuckled, the curtain falling back into position. “I never ... really apologized for making you run away. And causing all of this.”

“You could never make me do anything. And you didn’t cause this. The stupid farmer who didn’t mind his chickens did,” You wrinkled your nose, thinking about how tempted you were to sue that guy. “Though I will accept your apology about being a jerk. And a bitch.”

“Hey,” He said. You heard the toilet cover flip down, and Dean had the audacity to sit on it. The nerve! Although ... it was actually really sweet that he was in here, making sure that you didn’t have to bathe alone. “I might have been being stubborn, but I had a point. That bartender was a jerk. He was giving his number to everyone with a pulse.”

“So what if he was? It’s not your job to tell me who I can and can’t see. And if I do end up getting hurt, then it’s on him, and it shouldn’t be me that you get mad at.”a

“I wasn’t mad at you,” He said, and you could hear him tensing. The water was moving in small ripples around your body, and it was the only thing causing sound. “I was mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Telling me what?”

“That I care about you.”

This was getting to be a bit too much for you handle. You put your hands on either side of the tub, took in a deep breath, then lowered yourself into the purple-colored water. It smelled strongly of lavender with jasmine, and the scent had filled your nose just as you slipped under the water. You didn’t open your eyes, you just went under to cool the feeling of your cheeks burning. Even the warm water was cooler than that. When you rose yourself up, you saw to your dismay that Dean was peeking around the side of the curtain. But at least his eyes were on yours, rather than on any part of your body. And that everything you didn’t want him to see was covered by the colored water and the bubbles that came with it.

“What are you doing?” You said, moving your hands to cover yourself up further.

“You didn’t reply.”

“Did I have to? I would think that my actions over the last few months in particular spoke enough for me.”

Dean stepped back, the curtain moving into it’s usual position, but you still didn’t relax. “It’s really hard to have this conversation when you’re naked.”

“Shouldn’t have started it then,” You grumbled, but you couldn’t even find yourself getting mad. Dean cared about you. That was something that he didn’t say to many people. If he did express that - holy shit, were you ever in. Neither of you spoke for the next ten minutes. Instead, you just focused on yourself, washing your body and your hair. As far as you could tell, Dean didn’t peek again, but remained on his seat on the porcelain throne. “I’m going to need some help up, if that’s alright,” You said, once you’ve finished.

“Yeah,” He said. “Eyes are covered.”

You pulled the plug on the bath, and watched as Dean’s strong arm came through the curtain, holding his hand down low to grasp yours. You took it, and slowly, with the help of his sturdiness, got back onto your good foot, the other still being supported by the side of the bathtub. “Do you think you could...” You were about to ask him for your towel but he took his hand away from you before you could finish your sentence. Instead of getting handed a towel, the curtain opened and revealed Dean holding open your robe. He no longer had his hand over his eyes like a child, but he was facing the opposite way, eyes closed. You smiled, thinking about how sweet he was being.

And hoping it would last after you healed up properly.

#Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester oneshot #Supernatural #Supernatural oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #deanw

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volganic · 4 years ago

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Song of Awakening

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] || [AO3] || [discord]

i didnt mean to take two months to update but ive been playing among us and now i have ideas for an among us au that i’ll never write

“I have to go back to the woods!”

“Absolutely not.”

They spent the better half of the morning bickering with each other: Link needed to complete his mission — the sole reason for leaving the castle — and Volga wouldn’t allow it. The dragon argued he was unconvinced that Link’s grief had fully passed for his fallen comrades; a wandering mind would only land him into more trouble if he wasn’t careful. Pinks and oranges of the early dawn bled into blue, and Link was growing impatient with Volga’s stubbornness. He folded his arms and stared the dragon down.

“I’m going back.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“I’m flattered that you think I need your protection, but I really don’t,” Link huffed. “If I don’t finish my tasks in Faron Woods, even you can’t protect me from the general’s wrath.”

“I would never keep you from your duties as the hero, but you are no hero yet,” Volga snapped. He rose from his seat with his spear in hand, drawing closer to take his turn to intimidate his smaller companion. “One Manhandla sapling is of no danger to you or your army — let it sprout. You are lying. There’s nothing in those woods for you except another death wish.”

The Hylian refused to listen, bristling in his spot. “That’s where you’re wrong, Volga. There’s something else in there too, and after I kill the sapling, I’m going to find it.”

“Then I shall accompany you—”

“No!” Link put his foot down to interrupt Volga from spouting out another excuse or insult. “I can handle it alone from here. If I can’t do it, it only goes to show that maybe I’m not worth bearing the Triforce. I have to prove myself worthy.”

Their eyes fell downward to Link’s gauntlet. Where Link might have considered the outcome of his last venture into the woods as cowardice, Volga saw it as means to survive. The Triforce was a sign of status; if this was how Link wanted to prove (to nobody but his goddesses) himself as worthy, Volga could allow it.

The spear in his grip slackened. With a grumble, he spoke. “Very well. If it puts your mind at ease, I will honor your decision.”

Link’s posture relaxed as his face broke into a sheepish smile. Maybe he’d win a lot of arguments from this point on if he used this excuse. He adjusted the holster holding his blade behind his back. “I’ll hold you to it; don’t think I forgot how you managed to sneak up on me last time.”

Volga turned away and grunted in response.

“Hey now,” the Hylian approached, placing a tentative hand on Volga’s arm, “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I also need supplies from the village below. As much as I like suffocating against your dragon body at night, I think I can manage a night of sleep with a decent bedroll!” Volga shot him a glare. Link smiled a bit wider, but his expression softened. “In all seriousness, thank you. You’re really a great friend.”

Link gave the dragon’s limb a quick and gentle squeeze — a wordless promise to return when his mind was clear.

——

The sun had yet to reach its highest point when the Hylian managed to enter the deepest part of the grove. The environment was serene, peaceful — a little too quiet for his liking. There were dangerous creatures that lived in these woods, he knew, and to not even hear the song of a bird or the buzz of an insect’s wings through the air perturbed him. The only sounds that reached his ears were the leaves rustling against the breeze with the occasional sound of twigs and gravel being crushed under his boots.

The wooden bridge that led to an old Hyrulean outpost creaked underneath his weight, threatening to give out from the lack of use. It was useful back when he and Impa had led their small brigade when they had first encountered Lana, but the lack of upkeep since those few months had left the fortress withered and decaying, succumbing to the depths of the forest. Even if it had been months ago, the magic that lived in this place left it looking as if it hadn’t been used in centuries.

Careful to cross the bridge through the other side of the outpost and to another keep, Link found what he was looking for — sort of. A Manhandla sapling in bloom lay in the center of the clearing where sunlight could seep through the branches overhead. Upon closer inspection, Link found that the bud itself had been ripped cleanly out of the plant. He took his sword in hand and approached it even closer, leery of finding it in hiding. The tip of his blade poked and prodded and turned the leaves over to find any evidence of the carnivorous creature.

From the looks of it, either someone had done his job for him, killing the Manhandla sprout — or someone was bold enough to pluck it while in its sapling stage and grow it elsewhere.

While he was no botanist, the Hylian knew that it had to come to either of those outcomes; Manhandla in its sprouting stages weren’t mobile yet at this size. His mouth fell into a puzzled frown. Mission accomplished? As an added measure, Link staked the tip of the Magical Sword into the ground underneath where the Manhandla should have been, uprooting it from the earth. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure there's no chance of another one growing in its place, he thought, covering his nose and mouth with the folds of his scarf as his heels dug into and tore the leaves of the plant, cautious of its toxic dust.

Now it was mission accomplished.

——

The doors to the fairy fountain deep were heavy as Link pushed them to open. Clearly they haven’t been used since Farore knows when, kudzu and overgrowth nearly sealing the doors shut. If it weren’t for his sense of direction leading him astray from the forest path, fear of getting lost in these mysterious woods, and the crumbling staircase leading him there, he would’ve never found it.

The air inside the fountain was... different. It smelled wet, but held a crisp clean air about it as if unbothered by time outside of its doors, even with the scuffle with evil forces not so long ago. The Hylian tentatively stepped inside with sword in hand, half-expecting to be ambushed by something. Or someone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him as he moved to the middle of the room, watching for any shadows that moved behind the stained glass window on the fountain’s wall. When there was no promise of a threat, Link sheathed his weapon and approached the edge of the fountain. Despite the withered and crumbling rock around the edge, numerous flowers floated across the water as if they were freshly picked.

Strange, he thought. Rumor had it that the Great Fairies often made themselves known to those of pure in mind and soul – something he would definitely argue he possessed. His ears picked up the faintest echo of a woman laughing, but paid it no mind – whoever it was, she was too far away for him to consider her an immediate threat. Delicately Link splashed his hand in the water, pulling some of the flowers toward his direction. The tips of his fingers barely grazed its petals before the water in the fountain began bubbling.

Uh oh.

Link staggered backwards as a torrential wave of water erupted from the shallow water of the fountain. An infectious and jovial laugh assaulted his ears and a large shadow obscured the streaks of sunlight that poured the window. He felt dazed for only a moment, clothing soaking wet from the eruption and the water that dripped from the ceiling before he lay witness to a rather giant woman now in front of him. She studied him with a sultry eye and hummed pleasantly.

“O, hero of Hyrule,” she cooed, beckoning him with a manicured finger, “come into my fountain! Don’t be shy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment with the sudden realization that this was the Great Fairy. He never expected her to be not only outrageously “tall”, but voluptuous and seductive; the stories he had heard from merchants who had set up shop outside of the castle walls about the fairies did her no justice. Link pushed himself up and brushed off any rubble (he had to look at least somewhat decent in front of a lady) and obeyed, stepping over the edge of the fountain into its cool waters. Immediately whatever worry that lingered in his body seemed to wash away much more effectively than the springs on Death Mountain.

“What brings you here, my hero?” The Great Fairy invited him to sit closer to her. Link inched over and brought his hands up to sign. She leaned forward and delicately pushed his hands down. “There’s no need for that,” she winked. “I know what gifts the goddesses have bestowed upon you, and your secret is safe with me.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly quashed it. Inhale, exhale. “How do you know about it?”

“Oh, my love,” she laughed cheerfully, “I know many things. I might be the closest thing to Hylia herself! It’s a wonder that people pray and come to me for guidance.” The Fairy stretched out on her stomach, hovering only inches above the water and giving her undivided attention to her guest. “I know that the guardian of Eldin is the one to have awakened your divine gift, and that he is keeping a close eye on you as your mentor. I can only hope that he continues to treat you well.”

Link sighed wearily at the mention of his friend — Volga would have easily objected to coming into any fairy fountain. “He does… in his own way.” A pause. “Do you know anything more about him?”

The Great Fairy chuckled softly. “That I am not inclined to say, dear hero.” Link then decided she knew more than she was letting on if she knew that they were friends in the first place. “You’ve come to seek me for guidance, have you not?” she asked, changing the subject. “How may I be of service?”

“Do you know anything about the witch, Cia? And Lana? What are their goals? What can I expect?” The Great Fairy cupped her hand under the water to slowly pour it over his head, sensing his unease. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck, shivering with the feeling of the cool water trickling down his collar as it alleviated his nerves slightly to prepare him for any life-changing revelations. “Do you think I’m prepared enough to take the role of the legendary hero?”

“My love,” she began, “I offer guidance and assistance, not opinions or visions of the future. I cannot tell you exactly what you must do to fully prepare yourself for the coming battle. I will be here to assist you when you need me the most in your most dire hour. What the goddesses have intended for you is out of my control. Your fate is in their hands.”

Link feared for the worst, expression growing downcast with the answers he was given. “However,” she interrupted, “I can tell you that it is more than admirable that you have come so far in your ordeals. You make a fine hero as you are now. I have no doubt that you will do only the best for Hyrule… even if you are grounded on his mountain.” She winked, her pink lips spreading into a sincere smile. Link could only smile back feeling how infectious hers was.

“Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure,” she purred, reaching out to affectionately prod his cheek. The Great Fairy then rolled onto her back, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. “You must go now if there’s nothing more I can do to assist you, as much as I’d love to keep you here for myself. Your soul is bound to another, after all.”

Link felt his cheeks burn with the thought that the Great Fairy – the Great Fairy! – had found him appealing, but shook those thoughts out of his mind. Of course, legend always had found the hero bound to the princess. At least, it always presented itself that way. It wasn’t a destiny he would have personally chosen for himself, as he hasn’t had much interaction with Princess Zelda in the first place, but if the goddesses dictated it, so be it. As long as he served for Hyrule, he would serve for her. He stood silently and stepped out of the fountain with that in mind.

“You will find your other half in the most unlikely of times, my love — in fact, you might have found it already!” she exclaimed suddenly when Link neared the entrance. He blinked and turned to look at her to ask what she meant, but she cut him off. “Please, do not hesitate to come see me again. It gets awfully lonely here.”

The Great Fairy made her exit with a dive and a splash into the short pool of water, laughing all the while. Link turned away to save himself from getting drenched again, finding that the woman was indeed gone, nothing but freshly picked flowers and a few silent fairies fluttering over the water’s edge in her wake.

——

“Massster! Human isss back! He bringsss thingsss!”

Volga turned away from the ores he had been attending to when the sound of the younger Lizalfos scouts pattering after their chieftain echoed off the rock walls. Their arms were filled with items that definitely had no place in his caves. He grumbled at the sight; Link might have been simple at first glance, but the items he had gathered in excess proved that he was going to be a pain in Volga’s side.

“Where is he now?”

“Bottom of mountain! Climbing ssslowly!”

“He may be a friend to our clan, but he will not treat you like his dogs,” he scowled, gesturing for them to drop whatever items Link had pushed onto them to the side. The scouts obeyed without a second wasted while their chieftain apprehensively drew to Volga’s side.

“He asssk nicely. We help.”

“The boy is more capable of carrying his own rubbish up the mountain.” Volga’s frown remained. The chieftain stood patiently for any more orders. The dragon released a drawn out sigh and waved his kin away. “You have my leave to go. I will take care of the rest.”

With the clear dismissal, the chieftain scurried off further into the chambers of the caves, leaving Volga with his hoard of ores — and Link’s hoard of belongings. The dragon turned to the discarded items with a look of disgust. He left his own pile to sift through Link’s things; what on earth could he possibly need? Underneath the pile of clothes including his green tunic, there were a number of small bottles of potions, larger flasks of fragrant soups and broth, a few rupees here and there, a mirror — useless, useless things!

“What are you doing?”

Volga turned back to the entrance of the cavern. Link stood there with an incredulous expression having caught the dragon red-handed going through his things. He looked so different outside of his uniforms, clad only in a longer sleeved shirt that made him look like someone he wasn’t: someone lost; someone vulnerable; someone who shouldn’t be within his domain. Volga carelessly tossed the small mirror back into the pile. “You’re able to handle yourself, so why, I wonder, you use my kin to transport your rubbish up the mountain, I’m curious. Clearly it wasn’t worth the time.”

Link’s mouth formed a small frown. “If I’m offered help, I’m not gonna turn it down.” He pushed the sleeves up of his shirt up to his elbows and pushed through Volga to tend to the bottles. As callous as they were treated, none of them were broken. “I could have brought more, you know.”

“Essentials, I understand and commend you for. The mirror, however, is excessive.”

“Old habits die hard,” said the Hylian with a small hum in his voice. “I like mirrors. Appearances are important to keep up within the castle walls: I can’t act my part as a captain if I don’t look like one.” Carefully he picked up the round mirror and looked himself over in it. He couldn’t bring himself to look for too long; his hair was in disarray and dark circles began to form around his eyes from lack of proper sleep or rest; the exact opposite image of a hero.

“If you have the strength to uphold your title, appearances mean nothing. As battered and broken as you look now, I’m well aware of what you are capable of.” The dragon strode back over to his own belongings, taking one long glance at the ores in their respective pails. He had more than enough to trade. “It’s well into the evening. You need to rest.”

Link nodded in agreement. “I also told you I’d bring my own bedroll. The caves are a little warm for me, and it’s not too cold out—”

“Sleeping outside?” Volga asked. “To leave yourself exposed? I think not.”

“You’re free to follow if you want, but I’ve already made up my mind,” Link announced, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and tucking his bundle underneath his arm as he made his way back outside. The rest of his belongings wouldn’t move anywhere. It took a good amount of restraint not to laugh when he heard Volga’s heavy footsteps following him a few paces away, but that didn’t stop him from smiling at his companion when he found a decent spot to settle down. “I take it you’ve never slept outside of the caves?”

“Why would I?” he bit back, crossing his arms over his chest to brave himself from the gentle breeze tickling his cheek. The temperature wasn’t at its lowest yet; Link really was a fool if he thought only a blanket and scarf were enough. “They offer all the protection you could need.”

“That’s true, but only if you’re either a dragon or have the means to survive in the heat.” Even with the fireshield earrings, the caves provided a little too much warmth. Waking up feeling uncomfortably sticky from sweat wasn’t necessarily pleasant. “I’ve never thanked you properly for the earrings before, but you nearly burned my ear off when I had the chance. So thanks for that, too.” Link’s face twisted into a pout at the memory, but it didn’t stop him from patting the grass next to him to invite the dragon closer. “At least here outside you can see the sky.”

“And that leaves you exposed to the elements, too, boy,” Volga said with a tone that clearly painted him as annoyed. Regardless, Link took satisfaction when the dragon made an effort to humor him by taking the spot next to him at least an arm’s length away. The dragon removed his helmet and held it to his chest as he laid down. It felt strange being so close to home, yet so far away, left vulnerable to the bitter cold that crept underneath every crevice of his armor. A puff of smoke left his lips to try and regulate his body temperature. The sound of Link shuffling around in his bedroll couldn’t drown out his amusement. “Is there something you find funny?”

“No.” Though the scarf around his neck concealed most of the Hylian’s face, it was obvious that he was lying. Volga held his stare, but turned away when it was clear that Link wasn’t going to budge. This was stupid. He couldn’t fathom why he continued to play in Link’s games, but he never had also expected to take him under his wing. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but keeping Link so close seemed to soothe it, and, despite the immaturity he displayed more often than he should, the Hylian was slowly fitting into his hero role. That enough was satisfactory.

“Have you ever been to the village below?”

Volga’s eyes remained closed. “No. I have no interest in mingling among those beneath me.”

“Do you even have friends?” Link propped himself up on his arms. “And before you say your scouts or chieftains, they don’t count. I mean anyone outside your tribe.”

“I have you,” Volga said, “but sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a poor choice in keeping you as a friend.” He tilted his head and cracked an eye open, knowing full well that his comment would strike a nerve. In a huff, Link turned over and pulled the covers up to his ears. It was Volga’s turn to laugh quietly. “I have you, and I have ties with the Goron Patriarch. I wouldn’t have as grand of a collection without him.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.” Link turned onto his back. “It wouldn’t hurt to expand your horizons. I heard that merchants are supposed to stop by and trade in the village tomorrow.”

“I’d rather not. They have nothing I could possibly want.”

“Now you’re just being a killjoy, Volga.” Link chided with a yawn. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Enough.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No,” he interrupted, “I mean to say ‘I’m old enough’. I doubt you would believe me should I reveal my true age to you, which is why ‘enough’ should be a sufficient answer.” Volga let the words hang in the air for a moment for Link to absorb it, followed by, “You should be resting, boy, not spewing whatever thoughts are bouncing around in your mind with answers you can’t comprehend. With your duties to your army fulfilled, we resume ours in the morning.”

“One more question?” Before being given the chance to be shot down, the Hylian asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

The dragon remained silent. Of all things, that’s what he wanted to know? Whether it was out there to annoy him, or purely out of innocence, Volga didn’t know — and didn’t know how to answer it himself. As a dragon, instinct had told him to curb the favoritism to ward off those with prying eyes, as thieves were around every bend to steal whatever he coveted most. As for favorites, he realized then he didn’t have many — a favorite weapon? A favorite meal? A favorite song? — much less narrowed down to a specific color. He lived in a world painted in reds and oranges and yellows and greens with splashes of golds and silvers and a bioluminescent blue, but none of it appealed to him.

Volga craned his neck to look back at Link, unsure of how to answer and unsure of how Link would react, only to find that either he had taken too much time mulling over his response, or the Hylian was more exhausted than they had initially thought. Link had succumbed to the fierce grip of sleep. Under the covers of his bedroll, Volga could see Link’s chest rising and falling, his breaths light and evenly spaced; finally at peace. Without the expanse of the ocean staring back at him waiting expectantly for an answer, clarity had struck through Volga, and he knew his answer. The words poured out just above a whisper:

“I’m fond of the color blue.”

#hyrule warriors #volink #YEAAAAAA #fic

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oberynmartell · 5 years ago

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the hour of the wolf part v

[Prologue | Part One] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

"I've got you, omega. My omega."

Rey allowed herself a moment to luxuriate in the words after they were uttered by the massive man before her, the unflinching certainty and aplomb that had been present in his deep voice making her lips tremble, her knees nearly giving out beneath her at the look in his dark eyes as he spoke.

She had spent so many years on her own in the barren wastelands of Jakku, working her callused fingers bloody to find enough salvage to trade for food that day, trudging through the sand each night to return to an empty home where her only company were her daydreams and the whip of cold desert wind. She had been utterly and completely alone, dreaming about the day her parents would come for her— when someone would come for her, to tell her they loved her, that they cared for her.

After so many years of unending isolation and loneliness, it was almost overwhelming to be in Ben's presence now. To see him standing before her, pledging his care, his protection, his affection, for the rest of her life, promising that he would carry her not only through this heat, but, from the unwavering sincerity in his soft eyes and the firmness with which he spoke, through all the heats to come.

Pleasure unfurled in the cavern of her chest at his words, filling and filling and filling until it overflowed. Rey's body flooded with affection, the pleasure brought on by his praise palpable in every charged moment that passed between them, every milimetre of distance between their bodies, every breath sharply exhaled from her heaving chest.

He claimed her, he wanted her— and just the thought of not spending the rest of her days alone made Rey feel as though she might burst from the warmth that spread through her chest and belly.

She preened under his attentions, captured in the cage of his strong arms as he planted them on either side of her, backing her against a tall oak tree that seemed to be trembling just as much as she. His eyes were black as the obsidian curls shining in the silver moonlight that bathed them, gazing over her as she stood before him, concealed only by the soft flush that coloured her cheeks and began to arc down her slim throat.

He moved slow, deliberate, closing what little space lay between them, bowing his head to catch her earlobe between his front teeth and tug gently. She moaned, feeling his warm breath fan out across her neck, sharp teeth dragging down the arc of her jaw beside her ear, teeth marking her skin in a way her omega craved would stay forever.

Rey watched the rain fall down his face as it sprayed down from above, water arcing down his scarred cheek and over the corner of his soft lips and she could not help but lean forward to catch the water that fell from his skin like teardrop diamonds. His skin tasted like warmth and rain and sweet, southern spices, like all the comfort of a home she had so long ached for, like darkness and hunger and barely restrained desire. Like Ben— and Rey couldn't get enough.

Her lips pulled a soft bruise to the surface of his skin beneath the flushed gland on his neck, his moan reverberating through her as though it had been uttered flush just against the shell of her ear, and he tilted his head so that she could continue, could follow the line of his jaw, could lower her mouth to his throat and plant a hundred kisses there.

Ben groaned, more animal than man, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for her. His hips jerked, twitching forward to grind against her belly, hungry, rabid, near feral with want, unable to resist the unbridled longing that coursed through him, thicker and faster and more potent than his alpha blood. Anxiety thrummed in his chest like the impetuous beat of a hummingbird's wings, a silent battle raging between alpha and Ben as the beast urged to protect and fuck and claim.

“Alpha...” she breathed, her voice clouded and far away.

He could smell the heat on her skin, could see the way a flush curled down her neck as it heated her, the hand not curled around his shoulder clutching weakly at her aching belly. The alpha within him reared, furious that Ben wasn't sating his omega's heat, wasn't keeping her safe and protected from this pain.

She wound her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down towards her knowingly, rising up on her toes and urging his face down into the curved bend of her neck and shoulder.

He followed her lead, bending his head to nose at her gland, letting the tip of his aquiline nose drag along her neck as he breathed long and deep. He could feel himself ease almost at once, the scent of his omega causing a sedate, syrupy calm to twist through him like smoke from an extinguished wick.

She bent to nose at his gland, curling against him like a kitten as she scented him. Ben was happy to relinquish control for the moment as Rey sought out a proper taste of him, the bold omega grasping hungrily at his chest as her teeth grazed his gland, aching to savor the headiness of his skin, to swallow down his scent until she could memorize it, until it became part of hers.

A growl rolled through his chest like thunder, the way her tongue ran over his gland setting his teeth on edge, setting him on fire— so that he soon began to tremble with barely contained want, the hands that had fallen over her hips tightening until they were locked around her, holding her against him, rutting gently against her smooth belly.

Ben was too far gone to bother with cockiness at the desperate whine that pulled up from the back of her throat as he pulled away from her. He grabbed the cloak he had been pulled free from its clasps around his shoulders and tossed the thick sheepskin mantle down at their feet until it blanketed the wet earth, and he sank to his knees before her, his umber eyes hooded and blown impossibly wide, the brown long ago swallowed by darkened lust.

Rey spread her legs wider for him and he growled, an apodeictic heat present in the way his hands smoothed over her waist, an undeniable urgency to how he spread his fingers along the backs of her bare hips and pulled her close enough to bed his head against her belly. The way his eyes swept over her was animalistic, barbarous, appraising her in a way that sent a wicked thrill of pleasure surging through her, a feeling of virtuous power flooding her at the idea that she had brought this man, this alpha, this prince, to his knees.

His palms were big and strong and warm against her naked skin, rough with the telltale calluses that told of his familiarity with a sword, and it sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain through her belly and down between her legs, her mind flooding with wonder as she imagined what his fingers would feel like on her arse, on her lips, on her cunt.

"Please, alpha." Rey breathed, her voice weak enough to be blown away by the wind. She could barely think, barely breathe, without his hands on her. She felt hunger like she had never felt before, desperate for his touch in any way, in every way, that it felt like she might actually die without it, without him.

"Come." said the Prince of Alderaan, and before Ben had even a moment to prepare she was upon him, crashing down into his body and sending them both tumbling to the forest floor, all grasping limbs and hungry mouths and cold, wet earth.

But he doesn't care about the cold or the rain or the dirt or anything at all, not with her in his arms, her lips besotting his face and neck with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, her eyes leaking big, fat tears that he hurries to kiss away before finally finally finally returning to her mouth.

Rey wriggled under his firm weight, made to roll on her belly and lift herself up on her hands and knees, but Ben stopped her with a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her back up toward him. "I would look upon you, omega." He growled, the rasp in his voice making her quiver, making slick run down the insides of her thighs.

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but the words gave way to a moan as he ran the flat of his burning tongue along the ridge if her gland, sucking greedily so that she could feel a jolt of tingling pleasure ripple through her from head to foot. She could only nod, taking the brunt of his weight down atop of her small frame with impressive resolve. His broad chest and muscled belly pressed flush against hers, the slide of skin on skin making her mouth water as the smell of arousal flowered in the air like fresh spring blossoms.

He bedded his head against the cavern of her breasts, his kiss swollen lips moving over each of her pert nipples as his hands roamed her body, smoothing down over her rounded hips, her shapely thighs, each of her lean, athletic legs.

She gasped as his lips closed around her nipple, her chest jutting unconsciously upward to seek further contact as his tongue swirled across the pert pink flesh, and the alpha was more than happy to oblige her silent request, mouth widening to pull her small breast into his mouth.

Ben wanted to memorise every inch of her, each of the sun spots that stood as a testament to her time in Jakku, each healed over scar from her years scavenging in the deserts, each one of the freckles that spattered over her skin like constellations in the night sky above.

His mouth followed the smooth plaines of her chest and down to her taut stomach, brushing light kisses across her sweet skin and nosing playfully at the thatch of hair between her legs. He could smell her sweat, her skin, her slick, pressing warm kisses across the divot of her waist, the rounded bones of her hips, the curve of her navel.

Rey trembled as he touched his lips to each extended hipbone, thinking that when she became his queen he would feed her ever delicacy, every treat, until the bones no longer protruded. Next came her thighs, twin curves of golden skin and sparse sunspots, tenderly caressed by soft, warm kisses as he made his way toward her inner thighs, the allure of tasting her too sweet to ignore.

He nosed at the thatch of fine hair between her thighs, so agonisingly close to her warm centre that it was all Ben could do not to bury his face between her legs and sup on her sweet, wet cunt until the silent Alderaanian forest came alive with the sound of his name as she screamed it.

“Please alpha!” she whined, high and hungry. Her eyes were blown wide and dark with lust and desperation, her parted lips seeking out the gland on his neck as though magically drawn there by the gods. She found she could barely speak, could barely think, so overcome with want for her alpha that she could think of nothing else. "I need— I need you."

He was so hard he could feel himself leaking, the way his cock pushed at the leather laces of his breeches tipping over the canal from discomfort into pain— and it was as though Rey could read his mind, for soon her fingers had migrated to his laces, hurriedly pushing his breeches down over his bare hips so that they pooled loosely around his thick thighs.

Rey pushed herself up on her elbows to shuck the breeches further down his legs, desperate to feel bare skin on bare skin, until nothing stood between them but words and wind. Her eyes caught on his cock, finally freed from its woolen prison and standing at attention between well muscled thighs, and her eyes glazed, so bright and edacious.

The Prince of Alderaan kneeled between her legs, the words she had opened her mouth to say suddenly giving way to a rapturous moan as he manoeuvred her legs around his hips and pressed his weight down into her.

His hands pressed down on either side of her head as he braced himself above her, caging her in in a way that she had never before thought she would enjoy. Her eyes followed the corded lengths of muscle that rippled across his forearms and chest as he held himself above her, bending at the elbow to nuzzle his nose against hers, playful even now— when his cock was hard as beskar steel and the rut she had triggered was half blinding him.

He lowered a hand between her legs, a dual gasp filling the air as both found the wetness that had gathered there, sweet and alluring as the pool just out of Tantalus' reach. Rey’s hips bucked at his touch, sparks popping just behind the eyes she screwed shut, overcome by the way his rough fingertips grazed over her folds. She gasped in pleasure and surprise and reached for him, carding her fingers through his dark hair, her fingers pulling just hard enough to make him grit out a low, animalistic growl.

His palm worked at the cock that hung thick and heavy between his legs. The sight made Rey’s mouth water, the slick that baptized her thighs growing as she saw the knot at the base of his cock had already begun to swell beneath his rough palm.

Rey met his gaze, dark eyes as desperate as his, as hungry. Ben's hips settle into the cradle of hers as he shifted his weight to rest over her, guiding his cock between the lithe legs that shone with slick and the marks of each warm, open-mouthed kiss he had laid there. Voices rise and meet and break apart in the cold air, moans of pleasure, of ravenous hunger, of relief, his cock slowly slotting into her as though it was made for her.

But then again, she supposed, it was.

She felt so good around him that the alpha could barely breathe, knowing then what he had known since the moment he had come upon her in the clearing, that he wouldn’t be able to last. Not when she gripped him like that, her cunt pulsing around his cock as she writhed and moaned, blunted nails digging into flesh as her arms tightened around his wide shoulders, hips lifting off grass as she silently encouraged he press more deeply into her.

It was a stretch her body had never experienced, a completeness that she had never felt, and as she turned her gaze up to look up at him, it was to find the same relief reflected in his dark eyes.

For all his scent had intoxicated her his cock was only better, so that soon her eyes were rolling back into her head, a half scream pulling from her lips and dissipating in the forest air like fog as his cock sheathed fully into her. The sound seemed to reverberate through the trees like echo against stone, the most erotic music he had ever heard.

Rey tasted so sweet he couldn't resist stealing another searing kiss. He leaning down to ravish her lips with his own, to taste her, to swallow the moans she offered and let his tongue move against hers until she was so breathless and he so lightheaded that there was no choice but to pull away.

He rolled his hips up against hers, knocking the breath from her lungs as he bedded his face against her neck, nosing at her gland and catching the sweat that beaded at the hollow of her throat with harried, hungry kisses.

Her body, intuitive, clever, programmed by nature to read the signals of his body, moved against his as an omega never had, for even though he had lain with other maidens no one had ever been able to read the tightness of his belly, the trembling of his thighs, the clench and pull of the muscles in his back, so that she seemed to know just where to touch him, tease him, taste him.

No one had ever seemed to be able to read him, to know him. But she did.

She always had. From the first time he had seen her in the forest all those years ago, standing opposite him, her fingers trembling as she launched arrows at his shoulders, his back. From the first time she had narrowed her eyes and spat at his feet, calling him names, calling him a monster, glaring at him as though he had struck her. She had seen his future, his present, his past, and she loved him anyway.

He could feel it in the way Rey touched him, caressed him, gentle and sweet— even now, when her heat burned through her so hot that if asked she might not even remember her name. Her long fingers combed through his rain soaked hair, brushing it back from his brow so it ceased to bother, as though somehow she had sensed his discomfort.

Her legs knotted around his hips, his head dropping down to her neck as though drawn there by a force unseen, and he can't resist drawing his lips across the flesh, feeling her gland pulse beneath his tongue. The swollen flesh was already sensitive from from the induced heat, mottled now after being gifted with so many beloved kisses.

"Next time I'll taste you. I'll make you come on my tongue." he moaned. "You taste so good."

The scent was intoxicating, the alpha within rearing at the way it appealed to him, called to him, begged that he claim her and take her scent into his own so that it would mark him forever. It was like summer rain on fresh trimmed grass, smokey autumn wind and cold spring water, like the fresh flowers his grandfathered had always gathered in the drawing room of the palace for his grandmother after each bloom.

"Sweet girl. Sweet omega." He breathed, lapping at her throat, her head turning away from him to offer better access to the nose that brushed against the underside of her jaw. "You're mine, aren't you? I'm gonna make you mine. Would you like that?"

She let out a guttural moan as he head of his cock struck something within her that made her back arch like a drawn bow. "I am." Rey promised, and it was only after she cried his name several more times that he realised she was no longer calling him Ben. "I already am."

Ben looked a tenuous mix of wrecked and beautiful, the moonlight that dripped down from above illuminating the shadows of his skin, emphasizing the muscle that flexed beneath his pale skin like waves over still water. Her blunted nails left long red scratches down his back and he hoped they left marks, hoped he could see them in the morning, hoped they scarred and he could look over his shoulder at them for the rest of his days.

"I know, love." he promised, affection and lust colouring his words like the redness that filled his cheeks. She could feel the way his thighs flexed with the force of the pleasure. "You're being so good for me. Such a good omega. Perfect." He could feel the way her cunt clenched around him at that, making him gasp out a curse, eyelids fluttering. "I'll take care of you, Rey. I promise. I always take care of whats mine."

She moaned loud as a crack of thunder, the forest once more coming alive with the sound of an omega in rapture, the sounds that proved the hunt was once more a success, as it had been when he was a child all those years ago.

He pressed a hand down on her belly so that he could feel the way his cock drove in and out of her. Sparks formed and burst and fizzled behind her eyes, her mind pressed so full of alpha and knot and yours that every other thought seemed to slip right away and before she could even speak.

Her hips jerk upwards as her peak washed over her, and in the throes of pleasure her cunt had gone were tight as a closed fist around his cock, her body quivering through the aftershocks of such overcoming pleasure, and he tipped her hips back and pushed them down to be able to keep her from jumping off the ground, the large hand he spread over her hips making her seem so small beneath him, so fragile.

The sounds of her moan screamed across the quiet clearing like a stone skimming across still water and it had the alpha grinning as his ego inflated, hoping in the back of his mind that they could all hear the writhing omega, that all of Alderaan knew she was his.

He was so close to his climax that he could practically taste the pleasure on his tongue, especially at the way her tongue had chosen to move teasingly over his gland, her mouths half muffled by the way she buried her face between his neck and shoulder.

Ben could feel her her lips parting at the side of his neck, where they had taken to sucking at the puffy skin of his gland, and the alpha knows at once what was happening, knows that the overstimulation of pleasure in heat has flooded her mind with the need to take him as he's taking her, to claim him as her alpha forever.

“No.” He managed at the last second, the rhythms of his hips stuttering.

Rey pulled away. For a moment she looked as though he had reeled back and struck her suddenly, the look of shock and hurt that crossed her face making his heart sink into the pit of his belly, the alpha in his chest roaring in rage.

“Omega—“ he called, letting his alpha influence seep into his voice, and caught her hands as she made to pull away. His cock throbbed, screaming that he move, that he come inside of his omega, but the hurt on her face had gutted him.

“I want to do it right." he said, the set to her dark brows shifting as she listened. "I want you to be my mate, my empress. I want you at my side, to rule Alderaan with me, to be my mate for as long as we both walk this earth. It has to...” He swallowed hard, hoping that the earnestness he felt showed on his face. “When I claim you it has to be part of the ceremony to make it official. It’s the tradition of the royal family. My mother and my grandmother and my great-grandmother...I want you to be mine, the proper way."

Her hands slid over his broad shoulders as she dropped her legs from around his hips, a hand of ice gripping his heart as she pulled back. He knew his eyes were glassy, watching as she extricated herself from his grip and pulled away, but he said nothing. His cock twitched absently, the alpha within languishing in the last few moments of knowing the pure bliss of being inside her, knowing that he’d never again know the feeling of such a perfect fit.

It was her choice, though it broke his heart, to decide which alpha she wanted to be hers.

Rey pressed her palms flat on his chest and pushed gently, urging him backward and Ben did as he was told, inching off her until he sat flat on the cloak — but to his surprise the omega in hid lap didn’t ease off of him as he had anticipated.

Instead her grip around his neck and shoulders only tightened as she moved, maneuvering herself in a way that kept his cock from slipping out of her, and in that moment both Ben and alpha were so relieved to still be in her favour that they were more than happy to let control.

"Alpha..." she breathed, so soft that he nearly missed it. She let her legs fall open on either side of his lap, stretched wide by the thickness of his thighs, and as she settled onto his lap his knot throbbed at the tightness of her cunt as they shifted.

Rey pushed at his shoulders until Ben eased down onto his back, his hands automatically lifting to her hips as she wobbled uncertainly, and he stroked the soft skin there with his fingers. He basked in the heat of her skin and the smile she shone down at him, her skin scorching hot to the touch— hotter still as he dipped his head to nuzzle against her breast, inhaling her scent as though it were the only thing tethering him to this earth. His Rey of light, bright as the sun and just as warm.

Her chest was flushed pink all the way down to her nipples, a perfect parallel to the sweet soft pink of her cheeks, and she hissed gently as he claimed one between his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Rey nuzzled her cheek against his hair as he bedded his face against her breast, Ben watching through hooded eyes as she threw back her head and moaned in pleasure at the way he suckled at her breast. Her hips undulated urgently against his as she whined, high and needy, the sound of an omega in need drawing his attention back to her, between between her legs. He could see where his cock disappeared into her, and Ben, overcome at the sight, could only nod at her urgency, could only slide an arm around her waist and bring her back to him.

He pressed his open mouth to her gland and sucked with an exigence he had never felt before, the way Rey cried out, loud and bright and full of pleasure, making the patter of rain and the howl of wind seem like a whisper in comparison.

"You smell so good, omega." He groaned, cupping her breast in his palm and letting his thumb run over the pebbled ridge of her nipple. "You taste good, you feel good. Gods, I've never felt anything so good."

She moaned at the praise, the sound half muffled by the way she buried her face into his shoulder, her teeth nipping just hard enough at his collarbones to mark the skin with a trail of pink bruises. He rolled his hips up into her, feeling his cock slide between her folds as she arched her back, her body so smooth and soft against his that it was all he could do not to knot in her right then and there.

His palm slid between them to press down on the bottom of her belly, making her choke out a gasp as they both felt the pressure of his cock driving in and out of her, hitting a spot within her that her fingers had never reached.

Ben stretched up to capture her lips, unable to resist kissing her again, to claim those kiss swollen lips and leet her tongue sweep across his mouth in a desperate search for a way to sate her hunger. He had seen her this way before, with her dark eyes wild with barely masked fire and her brow set and firm, an aura of unfettered passion surrounding her. He had thought her passionate then, when the cool blue-tinged steel of her sword had been pressed to his throat, its steel singing as it sliced through the flesh of his cheek and brow— but it was nothing compared to now.

She was so beautiful, wrapped up in his arms like that. Her small hands braced on his shoulders as she rode him like he were a prized stallion and she a practiced rider, her thighs gripping him so tight he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be locked between them. Her head was thrown back so that her dark hair could sweep over her bare back like braided strands of satin, falling through the fingers he combed gently through it, and her cheeks were alight with a pink flush that curled down her neck and over her bare chest as she moved against him in the throes of heat and longing and aphrodisia.

"You're so good, Rey. You feel so good omega. I could stay like this forever. Sweetheart, I could live like this." Rey preened at the words, omega and woman both caught in the rapture of his praise.

He could feel his knot swelling almost to full size as she ground her hips down into his, bracing her palms on his firm chest so that she could widen her legs and take more of him. His palm is big enough to cover the entirety of her mound, slipping between her warm thighs to reach toward the part of her he had so long ached to touch, to taste, to know as carnally, as somatically, as he knew the rest of her. His callused fingers moved through her folds, coating themselves in her unabashed wetness, obeying her need as she silently rolled her hips into his palm.

"A-alpha..." she moaned, feeling sparks of white hot pleasure jump through her like a spark across the jagged stone of a flint, like embers of a roaring fire crackling into the night sky.

The forest air was thick with sticky heat. It was as though her blood had been set aflame, as though not even the chill of a torrential downpour could cool her properly. Rey couldn't think of anything but how he felt inside of her, her mind washed free of everything except the way his cock moved in and out of her, the way his fingers circled her crest as though he were reading her mind, as though he knew just how she had touched herself, to the thought of him, the thought of this.

“Come, sweet girl.” Ben cooed.

His hand moved between her legs with practiced ease, the corners of his mouths quirking as he thought that this was the first time he had been able to touch her like this, to make her moan like this. It would be the first of hundreds, of thousands— for if Ben had his way he'd never spend another not slotted between her thighs, not touching her, not making her come on his cock and on his fingers and on his tongue.

“Come on, little one.” he grated, his voice so deep that it made gooseflesh run down her arms. He was unable to tear his eyes from her, her body laid before him clad in nothing but the cool water that dangled from her fingertips and eyelashes and nipples like teardrop diamonds. “I want to feel you come on my cock, omega. I want to feel you come on my cock like I’ve been dreaming of since that first time I saw you.”

As though to punctuate his point he jerked his hips harder than ever, making a scream pull from her lips before she could mask it. His hips had changed their rhythm, his arm snaking around her back and crushing her to him.

“You feel so—“ Rey moaned. Her voice was broken, a mix of breathily high and comically low that would have made her laugh in any other scenario.

Her muscles ached with the way they stretched as they never had before, with the way her back arched and her hips writhed and stuttered, with the way her core pulses, her body electric with the need for relief that only her alpha can give her.

She felt so full, so unbelievably, undeniably, unforgettably full, and despite knowing that she would feel the pain of his enthusiasm in the morrow Rey found she couldn't bring herself to care in the slightest. Not when his cock pulled tantalizingly out of her before slamming back in, not when his lips were at her gland and his hot tongue was running over the bare skin there.

“Don't be afraid." he began, teeth gritted as he watched his cock disappear into her, giving another deep thrust that hit hard enough to make him choke as he attempted to speak. “I feel it too.”

Rey stifled another loud scream, breathing shakily, the way his nostrils flared making her wonder what she smelled like now, if she smelled like an omega well pleased. His dark eyes reflected the images of a thousand words that swam tirelessly through them, all the words he wanted to say but found he couldn’t, all the words that had been pushed aside to make way for the moans and sighs that filled the air around them.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, his thick fingers circling over the nerves at the crest of her folds. The rain fell hard over his back like a hundred dulled pinpricks, the way her nails dug into his bare shoulders making his hips shake. "Are you ready for my knot, omega?"

“Yes alpha.” she keened. Her skin felt tight, itchy, her cheeks so hot they could melt butter as well as warm bread. She arched her back, her chest pushed out toward awaiting lips and Ben was only too pleased to graze each breast with his teeth, nipping just hard enough to tip over from pain into pleasure. “I want all of you, Ben.”

The words make him utter an almost helpless moan, a deep, rumbling purr that's born at the base of his chest and reverberates through his body like a live wife, making her cunt clench around him.

Rey could feel the familiar pleasure of her peak begin to run its course through her body, a liquid heat that tickled at her spine and surged into her belly. She was filled with an almost blinding pleasure as he nosed at her neck, his tongue lapping at her gland while somehow still managing to whisper utterly filthy things against the shell of her ear, both his words and the low, thunderous tremble at which he spoke them doing wonders to increase her pleasure.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this." he grunted, crowding up into her space. He was so close to his climax that he could practically taste the relief on his tongue, the way his knot throbbed and tightened as foreign to him as it was to the omega that squirmed beneath him. "You're doing so good, omega. You're perfect, so perfect for me."

"Please, alpha." she begged, crying out in both pleasure and agony. "Please give me your knot. Alpha, please."

The hand not wrapped around his shoulder rose to his face, her soft fingertips moving over the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheeks, the pad of his lips, watching him through half-lidded eyes, her lust-darkened irises sweeping over his face as though she were studying him, mapping him, memorising him.

He rose up to nose at her hair, pressing kisses there that left her toes curling and her fingers grasping at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer closer closer. His lips found her gland again, closing over the swollen skin in a tight seal, his tongue lapping at her like she his first taste of water after years of desert heat, and he had barely began to taste it properly when she felt her pleasure burst forth.

Pleasure exploded in front of her like a physical proxy, all heat and tightness and blind pleasure, and she was nearly bowled over by the sensation, by the way he didn’t let up on her, not even for a second, the push and pull of his cock, the gentle jerk of his fingers, the lazy drag of tongue on teeth and soft lips.

His pleasure crested as hers did, his knot anchoring them together as he filled her with wave after wave of hot spend, finally finally finally cooling the burning heat that curled through her body like sparks of fire catching on dry brush.

She screamed his name loud enough to pierce the silence of the forest like a clap of thunder, and it pleased him to to end know that in that moment, even in the midst of her heat, even as she met her orgasm headlong and unflinchingly, that she was thinking of him. Not his alpha, not his cock, not his seed or his gland or his bite. Just him.

Ben held her tight to him, roaring with his release, the alpha inside him banging its chest and rearing its head and shouting in pleasure as he finally achieved what he had so long wanted. His hips slowed as his come flooded her waiting body, wanting to fill her up as he had wanted to for weeks and weeks and weeks, and his lips found hers again. He claimed her lips once more, kissing her long and deep and slow, somehow completely at odds with the way she still stretched around his knot, with the way his cock continued to flood her with his spend.

She sank down on top of him, her legs falling on either side of his hips weakly, suddenly too exhausted to even lift herself any longer. Instead she settled against his chest, her ear pressed to the cavern of his broad chest, listening to the staccato beat of his tired heart and the kind words whispered against the shell of her ear.

"You did so well, omega." he crooned, instinct once more taking over to soothe his sated omega, feeling her sink into his arms.

The words fulfilled some goal within her she had never before thought of, her omega proud and preening within, pleased at the way she had made her alpha so happy. He brushed the hair from her face as he kissed her temple, telling her how good she felt, how much he had missed her, how glad he was to be hers.

He brushed the hair from her face, kissing her bare shoulder and letting his hand sweep lazily up and down her back, tracing shapes with his fingers that made gooseflesh pepper her skin. Ben wrapped his arms around her back, gently pulling her to lay across him, ever mindful of the knot that locked them together, and even as his cock continued to pulse and throb inside of her, completely sated, he could feel himself stir just ever so slightly as he looked between them and found his knot standing firm and heavy, slotted perfectly between here legs.

"I love you." he said quietly, pulling her dark hair through his fingers absently. The words were uttered softly, casually, freely, but there was an irresolute firmness hiding behind the words that proved their significance was not to be taken lightly.

Rey beamed at him, bringing her lips to the healing scar on his cheek and kissing it tenderly. He wanted to count her freckles, to spend the rest of his life memorising every inch of her face and her body and her mind, until he could recall every wonderful detail about her even in sleep, even in death.

She settled back into her place on his chest, her fingertips tracing absently around the curled tail of his scar, and when she spoke it carried an direct unreservedness that made the simple words come alive, made clear their meaning to Ben, even if she hadn't directly said the words. "I know."

#reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfic #rey x kylo ren #rey x ben solo #reylo fanfiction #usermeels #redbelles #luminousbensolo #galacticidiots #the hour of the wolf #fic: reylo

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liquor-and-intellect · 5 years ago

Text

PREHISTORIC PART 3

Summary: Talia is a singer inspired by the man who broke her heart. The man who left her to pursue his career in the music industry without a second thought. The man who happens to be Harry Styles and is paying her show a visit.

part one part two

“I’m really glad you came…” Harry started, holding the door open for me to enter. “I-uh… I didn’t think you were going to come.”

I walked into the small hotel room. It wasn’t as lavish as I expected someone of his esteem to have—and maybe that was the bitter part of me that was speaking.

He stood there nervously as I surveyed the room. The bed with one side messed up, the open laptop laying on top of the sheets and a small suitcase open with a few folded clothes inside. It all was extremely modest and not how I had let my mind run rampant for the last few years about how he traveled.

I let my eyes leave the open laptop to land on him. “I honestly didn’t think I was going to either… but I…” I looked down sheepishly.

He nodded, understanding. “You couldn’t sleep, could you?” There was a small smile playing on his lips, as if reminiscing the times I sat up pacing because of a song on my mind, or turning in bed because of a fight we had. Rest didn’t exist in my vocabulary.

Shaking my head, I let myself give a tentative smile back. “No, I couldn’t.”

He stared at me for a beat longer, before catching himself. Harry cleared his throat and motioned to the bed for me to sit. “Sit, please,” he suggested. “do you want water… or coffee?” He shifted his weight nervously to his other foot.

I folded a leg underneath myself as I sat. “This isn’t an interview, Harry,” I reminded him, trying to ease the tension but coming off a bit critical.

He sat himself in a chair across from me at the small dinner table, placing his hands in his lap. He said, “I’m nervous like it is though.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “nothing could ever make up for how I treated you. I should never have left you like that. I should have fought harder for us… Fuck, I should have done so much more because you fucking deserved better.”

I froze in my spot. Tears were brimming in my irises, blurring the image of the nervous man in front of me. His words pulled a weight off my chest that had been resting there every time the memory of him came to the front of my mind. For so long, I assumed he didn’t care. It was the only logical explanation to how someone could leave me without a thought.

“Did you really love me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His brow furrowed in such a quizzical way, as if the question was so absurd. “Of course,” he murmured. “how could I not have? I think after we dated for so long, I just assumed you would always be there. No matter how shitty I treated you.” He looked down and pursed his lips at the memory of it. “It wasn’t fair of me to do that. I was just so young and immature.”

I sniffled, leaning my hands behind me to rest my weight on them. As I did, my arm hit the open laptop, causing the screen to light up and a song to pick up in the middle of pop chorus.

“Shit-“ Harry began, standing up as a female voice began playing through the speaker.

“I swear, I will wake up next to you,” it sang and I froze. The melody was beautiful and her voice was… haunting.

Harry fumbled, trying to reach over me to turn off the laptop but he couldn’t get to it before the song continued in its hypnotic way.

Right when he was about to press pause, I heard the cracked pleading of the singer say my name.

“Talia, I hope you’re happy any way

But four drinks I’m wasted.”

I sat up straight, my head snapping to where Harry was frozen leaning over the bed, hand hovering mid-air about to pause the song. “No one will know I wrote it, I swear,” he whispered.

I put my hand on top of his, lowering it away from the computer. The contact seemed to startle him a bit as both of our skins lit on fire. “Please let me hear it,” I said lowly. “start it over.”

And he did.

I don’t know if it was because it said all the things he didn’t know how to voice or because he knew arguing with me over this wouldn’t be worth it, but he started the song over. Leaving me to sit completely still except for the tears that ran their course down my face.

I knew these lyrics were his. I was up too many nights with him writing to not recognize it by now. His narrative had always and will always be recognizable to me.

Listening to the song, I felt the air shift around us. It answered all the questions I had been wondering for two years. Did he care? Was he effected? Was it easy for him to walk away?

I could hear the desperation in the singer’s voice as she sang, but I knew the soul was resonating from the lyrics. The words that Harry wrote, the words that were too damn personal for him to publish as his own.

As the song came to an end, I covered my mouth with my hand, attempting to stifle the sob that wanted to escape and never stop. The grief for what we had had been shoved down so far, only released in the angsty ballads I would write.

I nodded to the questions I could feel hovering between us. “I believe you,” I cried.

It was those words that caused his shoulders to drop, as if this whole time he had been acting a part of having it semi-together. Tears escaped from his closed eyelids, making their way down his cheeks to sheets below us.

I couldn’t help it anymore. I closed the distance and gathered him up in my embrace, letting his head rest against my shoulder. His arms closed around my middle so tightly I swore there would never be a way to separate us ever again.

We cried together. Mourning the loss of our relationship, the loss of a beautiful friendship—but also the sweet relief of closure, of confirmation, of anger being lifted from between us. I had been so angry when I saw him tonight, because he had left so many questions unanswered. Yet here we were.

I spoke too soon, but it was the last question I needed answered. “What now?” I whispered against his hair. “What do you want from this?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” His voice was muffled, lips against my neck. “I just know I can’t live without you in my life anymore.”

That was all I needed to remove the space of air separating us. I grabbed his face in my hands and pulled his mouth to my own, relishing in the feeling of his such familiar lips. It had literally been fucking years, but I knew the most comfortable way to kiss him was by letting my top lip rest near his cupid bow’s as his pressed into my lower one.

I tugged it between my teeth, my body completely melting as he let out a groan that sounded as if it took two years of anticipation to create. I pressed as close as I could to him, cursing fucking physics because I wanted to destroy every atom that separated us for the last two years until now.

Harry pushed me back until my back hit the mattress, a breath escaping my mouth as his lips traveled to my neck, peppering soft kisses there, sucking and pulling at my jawline.

He murmured into my ear, “How far do you want to go?”

It wasn’t his lips pressed against the shell of my ear that gave me chills, but the fucking consent.

“Take me.”

And that’s all I had to tell him.

There was no teasing, no foreplay. Harry gently lifted my shirt over my head before working on my pants, taking his time as his eyes examined every inch of my skin. He peppered kisses against my wrists as I reached for his shorts, letting me ease them across his long legs.

He stared down at me. “You look so different but-“

“- exactly the same?” I finished, smirking up at him as he nodded, blushing a bit.

He shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he continued, running his hands down my bare chest and torso. “you’re so different from the Talia I once knew. More resilient…refined… I love it.” He took a breath. “I love you.”

A sob racked my chest as I forced his lips back down to my own.

“I never thought I’d hear that again,” I murmured into the space our lips created when we pulled back to catch a breath. “But I love you too.”

There wasn’t this awkward moment where we had to relearn each other’s bodies. I think the most magical thing about it was the simple fact that the chemistry had been there—despite the years that separated out last encounter.

When Harry entered me, a gasp escaped my lips. Not of surprise, but in the way of satisfaction because no other man had filled me up like he did. No one could compare to the way his body rolled into mine. The mesmerizing way his shoulder blades moved beneath the skin under my fingertips. The way that I felt breathless because of the fan of kisses he planted across my face before placing lips back to my own.

Harry’s hips continued to knock against my own, the rhythm slower than the quickies I was used to. It was more meaningful, as if each stroke into me was saying something that his tongue couldn’t make sense of—and it all added up to the final conclusion: I love you, I love you, I love you.

His grunts became quicker as his stomach tensed above mine. “Are you close?” he said breathlessly, as if any sudden movement would bring about his undoing.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me to hit the spot where I knew only he could touch. Nodding, I bit the skin underneath his earlobe, wanting my love bite to be present for the world to see tomorrow.

There was a familiar bubble building in my stomach and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I climaxed. The way his sweaty body was hitting my own would be enough to set me off right there, but I held on as long as I could to enjoy the sweetness of this moment in all its complexity.

Harry’s breath hitched. “Shit- Tal…” Sloppy hip thrusts. “I’m about to- “

That was all it took for me. Seeing the man above me come completely undone unraveled the array of butterflies in my stomach as pleasure eased its way into my bloodstream like an IV. My whole body lit on fire as I sank into the mattress, feeling the slight pulsating of his member inside of me.

Harry collapsed on top of me, chest pressed against my own, breathing in tune with my lungs.

I let my hands run down his back, stroking the warm skin slightly as he clutched my torso. “I don’t know where I expected tonight to go,” he began. “but being inside of you at 5 a.m. was not it.”

I chuckled, my breath blowing the hair off of his forehead.

He stilled. “I missed the sound of your laugh. Almost as much as I missed seeing you leaned over a guitar singing random words to make sense of your emotions.”

I smiled at that memory. “I’ve found a much better way to songs write these days.” I said.

His head tilted up to look at me. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “it’s called unhealthily bottle up your emotions until they just kind of overflow.”

His lips pulled up at the corners as he closed his eyes. “Oh, love… you haven’t changed, have you?”

I let the silence pass for a minute, enjoying his body tangled up with my own. “Did you ever write any songs about me?” I finally asked.

Harry sat up, hovering over me to make sure he could meet my gaze. “Have you not listened to any of my music?”

“No.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Two Ghosts, Ever Since New York, From the Dining Table… I could go on, love but you’ll have to buy an album.”

I swatted him playfully. I had avoided the album when it was released—except for the few tracks I heard hit the radio. It had been too hard to hear his voice.

He laid his head back down on my chest. Intertwining our fingers together, he hummed to himself. A distant melody that I didn’t recognize but fell in love with all the same.

We fell asleep like that.

…

I was welcomed with a nice surprise when I opened my eyes to an empty bed in a hotel room. I could hear a distant muffle of Harry’s voice—possibly in the bathroom—talking quietly on the phone. There was a small stream of light from underneath the curtain. My heart warmed when I noticed the clips from the closet’s clothes hangers tightly grasping on the curtains as to not let light shine through.

I stretched my arms above my head, taking a glance at the alarm clock to see it was well within the afternoon.

A door shut.

“Good morning, love.” A sleepy Harry rounded the corner, still shirtless but this time adorning boxers on his lower half. His hair was mussed as he ran his hand through it, leaning against the wall. “I was just changing my flight plans.”

I frowned. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

It wasn’t that I thought he would stay in this hotel room with me forever, but I hadn’t considered the thought that he would be leaving so soon. We really hadn’t thought past getting through last night.

“You can come with me, you know?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I can’t just leave.”

Harry leaned onto the bed, crawling his way to me until he hovered above me, eyes shining with mischief. He spoke as if it was the biggest secret to the universe, his voice low, he said, “Open for me. On tour. Never leave my side.”

I didn’t expect my own reaction, but I let an infectious smile creep onto my face, brightening up my cheeks and leaving a sparkle in my eyes. I knew I still had to talk to the boys, but for now, my answer was:

“Okay.”

A few people said they wanted a tag list for this story. There will be only one more part, but if you want to be tagged, feel free to message me (after you reblog of course ;))

#harry styles imagine #Harry Styles #harry styles ff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #angst #harry x singer #harry styles imagines #short story #love story #celebrities #prehistoric

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carmenlire · 5 years ago

Text

Off the Record Chapter IV

read chapter one

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Looking up at the knock on his office door, Alec raises a brow at this floor’s administrative assistant.

“What’s up?”

Maia steps into his office and it’s then that he notices the garment bag slung over her shoulder. “Special delivery from a courtier downstairs. I was told to give this to you immediately.”

Taking the bag, she hangs it up on a hook on the back of his door. Looking over her shoulder, she adds, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Alec looks back at his computer at his half-finished email to CNN’s publicist informing him of his next assignment that will start in two days. Most of his mind’s still on that whenever he replies, “Of course. It’s a press dinner. I’ve been to a million of these things. It’s a few hours of reviewing the biggest stories of the past year while waiters in white tie serve lukewarm chicken and undercooked carrots.”

He’s rewarded with Maia cracking a smile that’s more of a grin as she dryly offers, “No need to sound so excited, Lightwood. Aren’t you up for an award?”

Leaning back in his chair, Alec nods. “Yeah,” he confirms. “There are a lot of other great journalists covering a lot of important topics too, though. Competition is stiff.” He flashes a self-deprecating grin. “Better to keep my expectations low.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” She jerks her head to the nondescript garment bag. “A Magnus Bane original, though? That’s something worth celebrating.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, merely sends her a blank look. Maia rolls her eyes before shrugging defensively.

“What,” she asks. “I might’ve taken a peak inside. It's very classic for Bane.”

“Iz made an appointment with him. I liked him. He was very professional,” Alec says, almost to himself.

Taking a step or two back until she can lean her shoulder against the door jamb, Maia crosses her arms over her front as she replies, “I’ve heard that he’s pretty no nonsense. Everyone respects him and most fear him, at least a little. Did you know he started his company in high school? He was a millionaire by the time he graduated fashion design school.”

“I didn’t peg you as someone who kept up with that kind of thing.”

Maia shrugs. “What can I say? Bane’s cute and he’s built his empire from nothing. It’s attractive, all that passion and drive. So, I might skim the occasional article about him in People Magazine.”

“We all have our guilty pleasures.”

Glaring at him--though with little heat-- Maia turns on her heel and leaves Alec’s office. Thankful that the interruption is over, Alec turns back to his computer and looks over his proposed itinerary. He’ll be going to China for a few weeks. Part of his assignment is a character profile on the President, Xi Jinping, but he’ll also be reporting about a variety of problems coming out of China, including the Hong Kong protests and their increasing tensions with Russia.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary and Alec feels a familiar tension seep into his shoulders. He loves what he does but goddamn if it isn’t stressful. No matter how many times he puts himself in untenable positions, there’s always a little voice in his head that whispers that this is the last time, this is his last chance.

Still, Alec finds himself preoccupied this afternoon. He has to start getting ready for the awards ceremony in a couple of hours and he’d wanted to get as much work done as possible before then. Instead, he finds his eyes drawn to the garment back hanging on his door.

Telling himself that he’ll just take a peak at the finished product-- make sure that Magnus delivered what he ordered-- Alec stands and tosses the pen he’d been holding in a negligent grip onto his crowded desk. Taking the few steps over to the suit, Alec unzips the bag and takes a cursory look at the clothing.

It’s a lot of black.

Alec laughs a little as he shuts the door and takes the suit out. He sweeps a thumb over the front of the black linen jacket, along the silk stripe down the pant leg. Deciding to make sure it fits alright now instead of fifteen minutes before he’s set to leave, Alec quickly undresses and puts on the suit.

He doesn’t have a mirror in his office but even he can tell that it fits like a dream and must look the same. Extending his arms out, he doesn’t feel the tightness in the shoulders he had during the fitting last week and he’s gratified by his range of motion when he leans over his desk and reaches for the top drawer where he’d stashed his cuff links this morning when he’d first came in to the office.

Sliding the understated gold and silver cuff links into his sleeves, Alec shoots the cuffs, readjusts the jacket.

It’s a wonderful suit, he thinks, and makes a mental note to tell Magnus.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do that but it’s on his to-do list. As Alec snags the belt he’d also brought from home earlier, he replays over the fitting from a week ago.

What a mess he’d been, Alec chides himself. Never hearing about the man before, Alec had pictured a middle-aged designer whose excesses had started to betray him. Instead, he’d been treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’d ever met. He’d been awestruck and unpardonably rude for it.

Magnus had introduced himself and Alec had reciprocated his easy friendliness for a heartbeat. For two or three seconds, Alec had forgotten himself.

He’d seen an attractive man and been enthralled. It had been just a moment, though, before he’d remembered who he was and what was at stake.

Alec didn’t have the luxury of guileless interest.

Still, Magnus had been everything magnanimous and Alec likes to think that he’d fixed the foot he’d stuffed into his mouth.

Damn but it had been hard to concentrate on the conversation. While he appreciated quality, Alec was mostly unfussy about his wardrobe. Magnus just kept asking questions, though, about formality and bow tie versus open throat and when the designer had thrown his little notebook to the ground in a careless gesture and gone to his knees to fiddle with his pants, Alec had grown alarmingly lightheaded.

Looking over Magnus to see his sister positively grinning hadn’t helped matters.

Lost in thought, Alec’s mouth tips up in a small smile as he thinks about how their fitting had ended. While Alec has no doubt that Magnus was just being polite, ever the friendly businessman, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get to know him more.

And not with a business deal hanging over their heads but as acquaintances, maybe even friends.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Alec takes out a business card with edges soft from wear. It’s sturdy white cardstock and with elegant script engraved in bold black font. It’s simple for all its finery and Alec has an insatiable urge to learn more about the man behind the card.

Alec sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He’s too damn busy to let himself become preoccupied with a man who is certainly not thinking twice about him.

Looking over at a clock, Alec sees he has an hour before he needs to leave for the venue. Deciding not to change, Alec goes back behind his desk. Instead of working, however, he pulls a book from his shelf. It’s an ARC and a promising one at that-- he respected the author and the premise he’d been given sounded intriguing.

It’s the work of a few minutes to put final touches on his look before Maia is buzzing him to let him know his driver is waiting downstairs.

The drive to the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium is bumper to bumper and he passes the time scrolling through half a dozen news sites.

He’s always on the cutting edge. There’s never really a down moment.

Stepping out of the town car, it’s onto a red carpet that’s been rolled out. There are a few press publications taking pictures and Alec strolls down the carpet, up the handful of stairs. There’s a spot to pose for photos, which he does with grace even if he really rather wouldn’t. Distantly, he recalls Magnus’s coy, “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

His cheeks heat and he desperately hopes the cameras don’t pick up on it.

The evening progresses much as he’d known it would. The dinner is atrocious, mediocre and not filling in the slightest. It's a little weird to be here without a date, without Lydia in his ear making snide remarks, but Alec powers through and thankfully no one asks about it.

The night is saved, though, when he and his team wins Investigation of the Year for his look into the Assassination of fellow journalist, Jamal Khashoggi. He’s brought up to the stage and talks for a few minutes about freedom of speech and the duty of journalism and how Kashoggi paid the ultimate price for his criticism against Saudi leaders.

As Alec takes his seat again and his eyes catch morosely on a half dozen wilted green beans, he can’t help but wonder if that’s his fate, too.

He plays with fire so often that he wouldn’t know what to do without the heat always licking at his heels.

His thoughts break off from that morbid line of thought when he feels his phone vibrate. Taking it out, unlocking it, Alec opens his texts to see a message from a contact simply labelled J.

Our usual place? I’ve booked room 1406.

Alec stares down at the dim screen of his phone and feels the expression shift on his face, into something anticipatory. Well, he supposes, that settles his plans for the rest of the night.

He’d thought he’d go home to an empty apartment and pour a glass of whiskey while he worked for a few hours. A bit of an insomniac, Alec rarely fell straight to sleep unless travel had exhausted him.

I’m at a work function tonight. I’ll be there at 11?

Alec barely waits half a minute before his phone is vibrating with a reply.

See you then, Lightwood.

Anticipation is a heady mix. While Alec had a strict policy against relationships-- that was a powder keg waiting to happen-- he didn’t have the same issue with casual hookups. There were a few men in a few cities he could rely on for their discretion. Jeremy, in New York, wasn’t out either and last Alec had seen him, had no plans to any time soon. His family was very Catholic-- two of his uncles were priests-- and his mother went to Mass three times a week without fail.

A restaurateur in the East Village, they’d met one night when Alec had joined work friends at his establishment for a retirement party. Now, almost a year later, they met up once or twice a month whenever Alec was in town at the St. Regis.

The rest of the awards pass in dull monotony, though Alec takes note of the Emerging Journalist of the year-- a sophomore at UC Berkeley-- and a few other categories. It’s closer to midnight when his cab pulls up to St. Regis and Alec keeps his head low as he walks past the doorman, not relaxing until he’s in the elevator. Alone, he slouches against the back, raises a hand to tug his tie undone.

He’s unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and breathes easier for it. Keeping his eye trained on room numbers, Alec finally comes to a stop down the long corridor when he sees 1406 in gold.

Mouth tipping up in an easy grin, Alec leans against the door jamb as he raises an arm, using his knuckles for a careless knock against the door.

He waits just a moment before it’s swinging open. Raising his head, Alec meets Jeremy’s eyes and straightens, stepping into the hotel room without a backwards glance, determined to enjoy these few hours he allows himself.

And later, when Jeremy tentatively offers to take him out some time-- his pick, whenever he’s free-- Alec shuts that down with barely a thought.

“No,” he replies shortly. They’re still breathing harshly from their latest round, staring up at the ceiling and not at each other. “That’s not what we are, Jeremy. What we are is convenience. I’m sure as hell not cut out for a relationship.”

He turns, spares a glance at a man he barely knows but knows just enough. “Are you okay with that? Tell me if you’re not now because I can’t pretend this is something it isn’t. I meet you at a hotel, we fuck, and one of us leaves before the other wakes up. It’s a good system and one I’m not willing to break. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Alec doesn’t much care one way or another. While it’d be an inconvenience, Alec is firm that he won’t pretend that this is something it’s not.

He’s gratified when Jeremy just sighs and tells him, “You’re a cold son of a bitch, Lightwood. You know that, right,” before he leans over Alec and they both forget about anything as obscene as attachment.

---

Alec wakes up the next morning feeling decidedly gross. His partner is nowhere to be found and when he manages to wake up, he sees all evidence of another person has vanished.

Blowing out a breath, he stays in bed for just a moment more before throwing the sheet away from his body and climbing out of bed.

He makes it home unscathed, heading directly to his shower as soon as he enters his apartment. Scrubbing the night from his skin, Alec feels a hollow sense of satisfaction.

He takes these pieces, sweeps them up into a little pile until he has something resembling enough. It’s far from perfect; the polar opposite from ideal. He couldn’t give a fuck about Jeremy or his other friends. He wasn’t lying.

They really were convenient hookups, ways to blow off steam, release the geyser of stress that’s always roiling just under the surface.

As he reaches for his body wash, Alec’s eyes cool as his mouth downturns. Christ, sometimes he wishes he had more-- that he could have more.

He doesn’t let himself think that too often but once in a while, a thought catches him off guard. Having a relationship, a proper partner.

It’s the antithesis to his life, that much he knows without a doubt.

Still. Alec’s always been more of a romantic than he likes to let on and it’s hard sometimes to see Izzy flirt unabashedly with anyone who catches her eye, with Jace flirting badly with Meliorn whenever the two cross paths at Taki’s.

Resolutely pushing those thoughts away, Alec finishes getting ready. Sliding his watch on, Alec sees he’s just on time to meet his siblings for brunch.

It’s Wednesday morning but both Jace and Izzy had insisted they could go in late. Isabelle, as the senior chemist at Idris Labs, had a pretty flexible schedule. Jace, for his part, owned a food truck and he’d been more than okay with pushing his hours back to see Alec.

Walking into their favorite brunch spot since they were teenagers, Alec sees his siblings already at a table. They perk up when he slides into the booth opposite them.

“Hey, bro,” Jace greets with a grin. “I caught the highlights of that press dinner. Congratulations!”

“Jace says that as if we didn’t watch them live. But, yes, congrats, hermano. We’re so proud of you.”

Shrugging, Alec merely offers, “I only did what was necessary. Koshoggi deserved to be more than front page news for a few weeks and the Saudi regime deserved the microscope I put them under.”

Thankfully, the waitress comes over and grabs their orders, all of which they know by heart so that they don’t even reach for the menus anymore.

Thankful for a breath, Alec looks up, first at Jace and then Isabelle. “So, what’s new with everyone? I feel like I haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“It’s been a week,” Isabelle says with a wry grin.

Nonetheless, they catch each other up on their lives. While they weren’t as close as they’d been before Alec had started travelling for work-- first as a freelance journalist and then signing on full time for CNN-- they liked to keep in touch. As long as Alec was within reach of a phone or laptop, they rarely went more than a few days without talking.

The next hour is a different kind of stress relief for Alec. He listens to Jace talk about his food truck and the cute guy that’s become a regular and listens as Isabelle shares her excitement for her upcoming date. The two of them make plans for dinner and Alec winces as they both look at him expectantly, as though knowing what he’s about to say.

“Actually,” he interjects when both of them have agreed they’re free Sunday night. “I’m leaving tomorrow for three weeks.”

Jace’s mouth tilts up but it’s barely a smile. “What a surprise.”

Stung, Alec snaps, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isabelle holds out a hand, staving off any argument. “Not today. I’m enjoying my meal and I don’t need you two ruining things. Alec, Jace didn’t mean anything. Jace, you didn’t mean anything by that. Okay?”

Neither Alec nor Jace say anything. They’re staring at each other and Alec’s a little taken aback by Jace’s glare.

A part of him wants to know what the fuck his brother’s problem is but he’s tired and most of his day will be spent with work. Letting it go for now, there’s still an undertone of tension when the bill comes after the three of them have finished their milkshakes.

Jace is the first to leave, citing needing to get to work, and Alec watches him leave, Izzy standing next to him.

“Wanna fill me in on what crawled up his ass since we last saw each other?”

Sighing, Isabelle loops her arm through his and they turn toward uptown where her lab is located. “Not my place,” she says simply.

Her response leaves him more irritated than before he’d asked but Alec bites his tongue, not completely sure that he even wants to open that can of worms.

They walk a few blocks before Isabelle needs to turn and Alec’s path to CNN headquarters takes him straight. She pulls him into a hug before stepping back and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Be safe and don’t be a hero.” She smiles, just a little, and it’s equal parts resigned and chiding. “I love you, Alec.”

“Love you too, Iz.” Pulling her in for another hug, Alec holds on for a beat or two before finally releasing her and turning his own way.

Afternoon passes into night and Alec catches up on work. He has a dozen balls in the air at any given moment and keeping up with everything is a struggle. He signs off on reports and a few contracts that need final signatures. He makes a guest appearance on all three evening news hours, speaking as a special political commentator and doesn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight.

His flight is slated for five in the morning and Alec has just enough time to pack and make sure everything is in order before he’s being notified that the hired driver is waiting to take him to the airport.

Waiting to board his flight, Alec stops by Starbucks and orders a red eye. It’s strong as hell and exactly what he needs. Finding a seat at his gate, he fucks around on his phone for awhile. He sees a notification in his mentions and when he swipes over, he can’t stop his automatic grin.

It’s a picture from Tuesday’s press gala that a popular tabloid has tweeted. He’s at the photograph station and he knows he looks good. Magnus, however, has quoted that with the addition, “Alec’s wearing a custom Magnus Bane. Doesn’t he look like a million bucks?”

There are a few facetious emojis tagged on at the end and Alec huffs out a laugh as he likes the tweet. Going to Magnus’s profile, his eyes scan over the profile picture that shows him in low light. Scrolling a little, Alec sees Magnus is much more engaged on Twitter than he is and in a moment of weakness, he scrolls back up to the top and taps the follow button.

A little to his surprise, he gets the notification that Magnus has followed him back just a few minutes later. He didn’t think Magnus would be such an early riser, especially considering it’s not even light outside yet.

Alec doesn’t let his mind wander long, though, before he’s turning back to work. He spends what little remaining time he has before boarding begins to read over his notes. He continues that during most of his flight. Managing a few hours sleep, Alec still feels like death warmed over whenever he lands in China.

He has his credentials and passes ready and most of that first day is spent filling out forms with the Chinese government.

This assignment isn’t the longest he’s been on by far. Still, the three weeks seem to fly and drag by at the same time. He meets dozens of officials and uses what little free time he’s allowed to get a feel for the city and interview people on the fringes of his interest piece.

Every night he comes back to his hotel and types up his notes. Still, not all of his time is spent on China. He still has articles due for different newspapers back in the States and he spends a few hours every day keeping on top of things back home.

By the time his assignment is over-- he has all the information he’s going to get, his televised interview with Xi Jinping has been filmed-- Alec’s exhausted.

It’s an exhaustion that runs bone deep and when his car takes him back to the Hong Kong airport, Alec wants nothing more than a shower and his own goddamn bed.

The flight is uneventful and Alec surprises himself by choosing to read a book-- for pleasure even. The flight is uncomfortable no matter that he’s in business class and the first thing he does when he lands back in New York is call headquarters and get updated on what he’s missed and expectations for the next few days.

Thankfully, Jia tells him in no uncertain terms to take a day or two before he shows his face at work and Alec laughs and agrees. She usually insists that he take a bit of a break with longer assignments and luckily, it’s never more than two days.

She doesn’t know he always has work at home and Alec has no intention of telling her.

Most of the first day is spent faceplanted in his bed after the world’s most efficient shower.

The second day, though, Alec decides to pack up his laptop and notes for the book he’s been working on for the past six months. The publisher wanted a tentative first draft by the end of summer and with only four or five months left, Alec was woefully short.

It was a a treatise about America’s current political climate with personal anecdotes thrown in. Alec was slogging through it but it was dense as hell and he had enough research to make a Ph.D candidate wince.

Walking into his favorite little coffee shop in Brooklyn-- he’d discovered it during college and had been a regular ever since-- Alec settles in. Spreading his notes out, he focuses on work.

He works steadily, wrapping up the current chapter he’d been working on when he suddenly feels eyes on him. Sighing a little-- it happened from time to time even at the most inopportune times-- Alec looks up and freezes.

His chest squeezes a little as his gaze meets warm brown eyes.

“Magnus,” he says under his breath, too low for anyone to hear.

Magnus’s mouth kicks up like he heard Alec after all and then he’s grabbing his drink from the barista and making his way over to him.

“Alexander. Fancy meeting you here.”

Nodding toward his sprawled out pile of work, Alec replies, “I just flew back into the city last night. I thought I’d get some work done in a setting that’s a little more casual than the office.”

Blowing across the top of his drink to cool it, Magnus eyes the pile. “What are you working on?”

“A book, if you can believe that. Something political and dire as befitting the current administration.”

Magnus rolls his eyes before grinning. “I can’t wait to read it. I’m sure you’ll do justice to the topic.”

“I’m trying,” Alec says as he jerks a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus’s expression is amused as he nods outside the shop. “This is the closest coffee shop to my apartment. I come in here almost every day. I’ve never seen you here before, though.”

“I found this place in college and have been coming ever since. I don’t come here as often as I might like but when I’m in the city, it’s at least once a week.”

“What a coincidence,” Magnus murmurs before perking up. “You mentioned you just flew back in last night. Were you somewhere devastatingly exotic?”

“China,” Alec replies dryly. “It was painfully mundane.”

Looking intrigued, Alec watches as Magnus hesitates for a bare moment before he gestures toward the chair across from him. Before he can ask, Alec is already waving him toward the empty seat. “Please, sit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stand forever.”

“Thank you, darling.” Magnus shoots him a smile before taking a seat. It’s oddly graceful, elegant for such an everyday gesture.

“Now,” Magnus says briskly, crossing one leg over the other and staring at Alec with something indefinable in his eye. “How was China, as you put it, painfully mundane?”

Relaxing in his seat, Alec’s look is wry as he says, “It was work, Magnus. I spent an overwhelming majority of my time trying to get the truth from people determined not to give me any. It was exhausting. I have some great content that will start to drop in a few days but these trips are hardly ever pleasure for me.”

“Don’t say you’re a workaholic now. That ruins a fair bit of the image I had of you in my head-- you know what they say about all work and no play, Alexander.”

“My job is demanding,” Alec replies with a short laugh. “Sorry to spoil things, but any image you have of me is probably categorically false. As Isabelle’s always telling me, I’m a bit of a dud.”

Raising a brow, Magnus repeats, “A dud? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m focused on my career. As it happens, that career is more high-octane than most. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else.”

“More’s the pity,” Magnus says softly and Alec’s suddenly uncomfortably when he turns sharp eyes to him.

It’s like he sees everything Alec tries to hide, everything he doesn’t say.

And then Magnus is brightening. “Are you one of those people who become horribly distracted if anyone so much breathes in their direction while working?”

Alec sets a deadpan look over Magnus. “I’m a journalist. I can pretty much work through anything. Why?”

“Well,” Magnus draws out and Alec mostly thinks he imagines the tentative look in his eye. “I have a few hours before I have to be in my office but I have some work I could get done before going in. I was thinking a change of scenery might help me too, if you’re willing.”

It takes Alec a moment to understand what he’s trying to say but then he grins when he does, a small, pleased little thing. “Feel free,” he says and shoves some of his stuff away from what’s officially Magnus’s side of the table.

Magnus returns that smile before reaching down to his bag and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

And no matter what Alec might’ve said just a few moments before, he’s definitely distracted as he also pulls out a pair of black framed glasses, slipping them on absently while organizing his little pile of paper.

When he looks up and catches his eye, Magnus is sheepish. “I hate the things,” he says, pointing to the glasses. “But I need them, so. I know it doesn’t exactly fit my own dashing reputation.”

“I like them.” Alec’s reply is out of his mouth before he can think and while he feels heat climb into his cheeks, he’s rewarded by a pleased if surprised smile from Magnus. Swallowing hard, he adds, “They suit you.”

“Thank you, darling.” A teasing light comes into Magnus’s eyes as he continues, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that without getting embarrassingly tongue tied, so he just looks down at his laptop and reads the same sentence seven times without comprehending it.

It’s absurd but Alec is quickly growing familiar with the way Magnus is proving the exception to his most ironclad rules. He’s met people all of the world from all different backgrounds and he rarely has a problem engaging them in conversation. It’s part of his job and one that he’s good at even if those closest to him would be a little surprised to learn just how competent he is at socializing.

In his line of work, that particular skill set is crucial to forming ties and establishing trust.

With Magnus, however, that all goes out the window. The man makes an innocuous enough comment and Alec finds himself tongue-tied. A part of him wishes desperately that he could flirt back but he can’t-- that wouldn’t be fair to either of them-- not to mention that it would be just a little presumptuous.

Alec has a sinking suspicion that Magnus is friendly with everyone. What a faux pas would if be if Alec read more into things.

He shudders at just the thought.

Magnus doesn’t say anything else and Alec manages to turn his focus back to his work. To his surprise, Magnus is an acceptable work partner. He doesn’t click his pen, doesn’t have a need too fill the silence that’s fallen over their little corner of the coffee shop. He scans through documents, signing every so often, and every time Alec looks up, Magnus appears deep in thought. He has the endearing habit of bringing his pen up to his mouth to chew absently on the cap and it’s a little tick that Alec wouldn’t have suspected but enjoys nonetheless.

He’s startled, then, when he’s ass deep in research for a particular law he wants to use-- he needs to get a deep understanding of it before he can even begin explaining what it means and why it’s important-- when Magnus bites back a curse.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s incredulous gaze.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like I’m running late for my afternoon meeting. I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed.”

Looking down at the corner of his laptop, Alec’s brows raise as he sees they’ve been sitting together for over four hours.

“We should’ve set an alarm,” he says with a stunned smile.

Gathering his work, Magnus packs up his things as he returns Alec’s expression. “Yes, that would’ve been good thinking. I didn’t anticipate getting so distracted,” he admits.

“You’re easy to share a table with.”

“Thank you, Alexander. I’m glad I wasn’t a nuisance.” Magnus laughs and a part of Alec leans into the sound, no matter that he stays in place.

Magnus stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He takes a single step backward, toward the front door. “How long are you in town for this time around?”

Pausing to think, Alec finally offers, “As long as nothing crops up, I’m in New York for at least a few months. Most of my time needs to be spent working on this damned thing,” he says, nodding toward the evidence of his writing.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then. Bye, darling.”

Alec nods in acknowledgement and watches as Magnus turns on his heel and strides out of the little coffee shop, looking too big for the place, his presence too striking for a regular little coffee shop.

Blowing out a breath, Alec wonders if he’ll see Magnus again and if so, when. Most of him hopes he does and soon.

There’s a little piece, though, that he tries to tamp down on that whispers maybe it’s best if they don’t see each other again.

Something tells him that Magnus is different to everyone else, even if it's in ways he can't quite definite yet.

Shaking his head impatiently, Alec pushes any and all thoughts of Magnus Bane out of his head. The truth is, they probably won’t see each other again for months, if that.

He has bigger things to worry about than an interesting fashion designer who pulls off glasses like he was born for them.

---

Except the next morning, Alec comes back to the little Brooklyn coffee shop and almost immediately, his gaze lands on Magnus.

Magnus, who looks up with a smile that only grows when he sees the book bag over Alec’s shoulder.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, just like he had yesterday and Alec laughs, a quick burst, while he tries to recover.

“What are you doing here?” It could come off as rude, short, but Alec’s already nearing the table and bringing his bag down to rest on the floor against the chair that sits across from Magnus.

Magnus shrugs. “I have work to get through and I can do that just as easily here as I can in my office. My office doesn’t have such a view, after all,” he says with a little grin that reads just as coy as it is hesitant.

Alec doesn’t linger over the words. Peering at the table, Alec nods toward the half that has stuff on it; the other half of the table is perfectly cleared off. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes, by you, darling.” Magnus beams at him and gestures grandly for Alec to take the seat opposite him.

Getting settled in, Alec pops up a few minutes later to order a coffee for himself as well as a refill for Magnus. The morning passes much like the past afternoon had. They both work on their own things but together and it’s odd but it fills Alec with a buzzing energy that itches just under his skin.

He likes the quiet and while he’s loathe to admit something so whimsical-- even to himself-- he likes the quiet with Magnus even more.

They don’t talk much that day, both focused on their work. Alec’s the one that has to leave first that day, off to the studio to shoot a debate between two political leaders of different parties. Magnus nods in acknowledgement, wishes him a productive afternoon, but nothing else.

So it’s pure coincidence when Alec goes right back to the little coffee shop the next morning and sees Magnus for the third day in a row.

It becomes a thing after that-- or really, Alec thinks, since the very beginning. And while the first week or so is filled with comfortable silence and the sounds of typing, the dull thrum of everyone else in the coffee shop nice in the background, Magnus and Alec rarely talk.

They both seem to want to preserve the spell that’s fallen over them but then one day Magnus is obviously distracted. He fidgets with his papers and Alec feels his eyes on him every four seconds it seems until finally, exasperated and fond-- too fond for the duration of their acquaintance, that’s for sure-- Alec looks up and meets Magnus’s eyes.

“What’s with you today?”

Magnus stills and then launches into a rambling rant about best friends who think they know best but really don’t know jack shit. Alec surprises himself when he bursts out laughing when he learns that Magnus’s best friend, Ragnor, has been surprising him with a different treat every day in the hopes that he’ll take the hint and take a break from things.

“He’s gotten me a gift card to a bookstore, a wine box subscription, and he’s started leaving little hints all over the office for me to take a vacation. There are little palm trees on the kitchen counter and Clary has started talking about the weather in a different tropical locale every day for the past two weeks. The man is driving me insane, Alexander.”

Shaking his head a little, the mood lightens considerably over their table as they both abandon any semblance of work. Instead, they order more coffee and talk.

They get to know each other a little better, piece by piece. Alec learns about Ragnor and Raphael and Catarina and he takes his own turn to talk about his siblings and how they drive him crazy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After that day, something shifts in their budding friendship. They spend a few minutes every day catching up with the other and it often devolves entirely into meandering conversations that poke and prod at what seems to be laying just under the surface.

There are some topics Alec doesn’t broach and Magnus gently hints before backing away entirely once he realizes the off-limit subjects-- the confidential aspects of his job, his dating history. Though Alec talks a little bit about Lydia-- by all accounts they were together since college-- he’s strangely reticent to share as much as he might’ve with anyone else.

He doesn’t want to lie to Magnus. Not about Lydia and not about what Lydia helped hide.

It’s a month later and Magnus and Alec have seen each other almost every day since that first afternoon at the coffee shop. Alec is dreadfully behind in his projected timeline to complete his book but he finds that he can’t care overmuch, not when he’s having so much fun getting to know Magnus.

He doesn’t look the man up, doesn’t want to learn about the famous designer before either of them are ready. He takes what Magnus shares and becomes just a little more infatuated every day.

He can’t tell if Magnus feels the same, one iota of what Alec’s feeling. It’s all a moot point anyway, he tells himself but. Still. He wonders if it’s as one sided as it seems or if-- in another world, another life-- there could be something more there.

Everything is going well until Alec gets the call from CNN’s headquarters that he’ll be leaving the next afternoon for his next assignment.

He takes the call and as he listens to the proposal, a part of him feels the familiar rush of adrenaline. There’s another part, though, that’s full of the tiniest bit of disappointment.

Four months.

It’s still not the longest assignment he’s been on. Not by far. But his mind skips to Magnus and their routine and even as he agrees immediately to his assignment, he’s dreading telling Magnus.

Magnus, who’s become an unwitting friend over the past month.

When they meet at the coffee shop just a couple of hours later, Magnus takes one look at him and immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

Alec smiles, just a little, at Magnus reading him so well. It dies on his lips though as he opens his mouth to reply before getting out, “I got my next assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

He watches as Magnus’s smile dims, as he settles back in his seat as he absorbs the news. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a minute before Magnus looks up and smiles wanly. “How long?”

Wincing, Alec replies, “Four months. Depending on how it all unfolds, though, it could be extended.”

“Well,” Magnus says and it’s clear that it’s trying to be bright but fails spectacularly, “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Alec blinks. “Plans? Tonight?”

Something thaws in Magnus’s expression as he watches Alec’s confusion. “Yes, darling, tonight. If you’re going to be away for half a year, I’d like to see you one more time before you go. If you’re amenable, we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great, Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soft, just above a whisper.

Magnus’s gaze warms even further at Alec’s easy acquiescence. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements and text you the address-- Oh, we would need to exchange numbers for that, I suppose.”

It takes Alec a spare second to realize that the two of them haven’t even exchanged numbers yet. By tacit agreement, they both had just shown up to the coffee shop ever morning, letting the other know they day before if there would be a change.

“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “Let’s do that.”

The two of them exchange numbers and it’s such a small gesture but it lights Alec up. Though, he tries his damnedest to hide just how effected he is by having Magnus’s cell number.

The two of them don’t even try to turn back to their work after that. They spend the rest of the morning talking and there’s a new energy lingering in the undertones of their conversation. It’s almost frenetic, an impending knowledge that they only have this last day before they’ll be apart for the foreseeable future.

Magnus leaves in the early afternoon after half a dozen progressively more annoyed texts from Ragnor. He leaves with a promise to make the arrangements-- something private, away from prying eyes-- and leaves with his customary flourish.

Alec watches him leave and wonders how he’ll survive dinner with the growing acknowledgement that he’s falling for Magnus and the knowledge that there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

#I know I'm as surprised as you are #otr #my writing

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ichigopanhpff · 5 years ago

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BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 13

Read Ch. 12 | Masterlist

SPOILER ALERT: We’re now closing on the Hassaikai Arc.

Muffled voices could be heard shouting with a thumping rhythm of footsteps pounding on concrete. Her tongue had a metallic taste to it. Her body felt heavy like corroding iron in salty water.

“..—ink… B…—nk...”

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, her vision still blurry.

“Blink!” Uravity’s voice reacted and cleared up in her hearing. “You’re up!”

Blink squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them to refocus her irises. Letting out a soft breath and gasped, she laid still staring at the morning sky. Cautiously pulling herself back up, Uravity supported her back with steady hands.

“You shouldn’t move,” the brunette warned. “You’re injured.”

She looked down to see her bruised left arm was in makeshift sling with a splint. Blink audibly hissed upon feeling a sharp and numbing pain shoot up when she tried to move it. It felt like her shoulder was popped back in place while she was knocked out.

“You’re finally awake, ribbit,” Froppy hopped over with a worried look. “I tried my best to catch you when you fell, but…” Her sad eyes wandered over to her injured arm. “It was already like that by the time I did.”

“What did you do to it?” Uravity asked with worry.

“I… I don’t know,” Blink truthfully answered. The last thing she remembered was feeling a surge of adrenaline and power build up in her left arm and destroyed Chisaki’s monstrous arm before blacking out.

She asked the two girls to help her up, to which they obliged and supported her until she got her footing and balance back. Everything felt like it was in slow motion as Blink’s brain was trying to process the aftermath. Everyone around here were either evacuated with cuffs around their wrist or rushed out on gurneys to be treated at the hospital; she saw FatGum and Red Riot at a glance rushed out with IVs attached to them as they were placed into one of the ambulances to be treated. Both were passed out from exhaustion.

She shuffled her way from the girls and and found Chisaki restrained to a lone gurney. Glowering over him, he slowly regained consciousness.

“Do you know who I am?” she spoke softly, still feeling the scratchiness in her throat.

He looked at her with the eyes of a broken man.

“You look like him… Rennosuke.”

“I’m his daughter,” she coldly stated. “I’d say the despair you’re feeling from having your dreams crumble before you is a satisfying payback than seeing you dead.”

“You don’t want me dead?” he jested with a dry chuckle, as if he was daring her.

“No,” she affirmed with a renewed sense of self in her eyes. “Not anymore.”

Local authorities and heroes pitched in to help with the aftermath of the battle. They assessed four houses were destroyed due to Chisaki’s Overhaul and three citizens had minor injuries. Were it not for Deku’s quick thinking in taking the fight up in the air, the collateral damage would’ve been much worse.

The heroes who were injured were taken to the hospital for treatment.

Kirishima had bruising and lacerations all over his body, but will make a speedy recovery; Amajiki had a huge facial injury but will heal up quickly without scarring. Fat Gum had numerous bone fractures but was fully alert and starving. Aizawa ended up with 10 stitches from his wound.

Thanks to Blink’s on the spot triage and the knife wound missing Rocklock’s internal organs, his injuries weren’t life threatening at all. The heroine herself had a few cuts and gashes at the side of her head and right rib, dark bruising around her neck, and a dislocated shoulder. The doctors said it would take about two weeks for a full recovery, but was able to be discharged.

Unfortunately, not everyone came out unscathed.

After helping Deku take down Overhaul with her quirk, Eri collapsed and ran an extremely high fever that placed her in quarantine for the time being.

Sir Nighteye’s injuries were far too severe to recover; not even Recovery Girl could do anything to help him and succumbed to it.

The next day, Ren and Midoriya decided to stop by the hospital to visit everyone; the former wanted to see Togata and be there for him, having lost his mentor. He must be sulking in his room.

“How’s your arm, Ren-senpai?” the freckled boy asked.

“Sore,” she grumbled and scratched her cast, pretending it’s her actual skin on her arm. “The dressing’s making it itchy. My mom’s gonna kill me with her nagging when she sees this on video call.”

“Ah, I know how that feels,” the boy chuckled out uneasily and rubbed the back of his head.

The two walked on in comfortable silence.

“Mido-kun…” Ren called, prompting the boy to turn around, only to be met with a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

“Eh? F-For what?” he stuttered out.

“You helped me take down Chisaki when I couldn’t…” She looked down with a bittersweet smile. “Honestly, I’m frustrated because I had to rely on your strength to do so.”

“It’s really nothing!” he replied and held his palms out at her in neutral. “I just wanted to save Eri and—”

“You gave me the justice I wanted. I’m in your debt.”

All he could do was stare at her bruised neck, thinking back to the moment she used herself as bait just so he could rescue Eri. Even though he did defeat Chisaki, he felt guilty being unable to help her. It was then he realized the limitations of what a single person could do on his own.

This is the heavy burden every hero carries.

With his thoughts beginning to spiral out of control again, a light peck on his cheek roused him back as he saw Ren’s face extremely close to his.

Midoriya was dumbfounded.

“Come along now. We don’t wanna be late,” she casually reminded him and trekked a few steps forward.

The green haired boy, however, couldn’t move and suddenly turned five shades of red, ready to collapse right then and there.

He got a kiss. On the cheek. From his senior.

Having calmed down a few minutes later, they entered the hospital with news reports all over the TV saying Chisaki was attacked en route to prison by the League of Villains and stole an important piece of evidence. The two saw Aizawa watching the report and quickly reassured Midoriya it wasn’t his fault before making his rounds.

Leaving their belongings with Recovery Girl, the two made their way to see Togata, despite Aizawa’s warnings. The two made their way over, with Ren stopping in her steps. Midoriya turned to see his senpai with a hanged head and slumped shoulders.

“You… go on ahead first,” she uttered out and leaned on the wall. “I… need a little time to collect myself.”

The boy quietly nodded and gave her a concerned look before going ahead.

She felt bad for lying to the first year; Ren really just wanted to talk with him alone. Gathering her emotions together, she saw All-Might strolling down from the other side of the hallway.

“It’s been a while, Uncle All-Might,” she greeted. “You’re looking well.”

“Oh, Ren-chan?!” the former number one hero excitedly replied. “You’ve gotten so big!”

The two exchanged hugs and he held her at arms length to get a better look at her. It was many years ago when he last saw her, when Dave was still his sidekick in California. He remembered her and Melissa were thick as thieves as children. And now here she was in front of him as a teenage hero in-training with eyes of a person who’s seen their fair share of trauma and tragedy.

“Last time I saw you, you were as tall as my calf,” the blond hero lightheartedly joked before turning serious with a soft voice. “How are you holding up? How’s your arm?”

“Dislocated but I’ll heal up fine.” She gave him a sad smile and looked down. “Emotionally and mentally, I’m... still processing everything.”

All-Might placed firm hands on her shoulders, drawing her eyes back up to his.

“It’s not easy, going through what you are right now. Every great hero before you have been where you are. But please know there are people here for you when you’re ready to talk about it, including me.”

The girl softly nodded as he drew her into a tight and comforting hug. She had to use every ounce of willpower to not cry on his shoulder. Instead, she quietly thanked him before releasing.

“I should go and find Eraser Head,” he finalized with a small smile. “Be well, Ren-chan. We’ll see each other soon.”

“You too, Uncle All-Might.”

After a beat longer, she saw Midoriya leave the room and swiftly entered after. She saw Togata smiling at her with a hint of sadness from his bed. Swallowing the weighty lump in her throat, she slowly marched up to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind for stupidly taking the bullet for someone who’d done so much harm. Ren balled her right fist up and shook with tears streaming down her face, unable to utter a single word.

All she could do was stumble in her last few steps before throwing her uninjured arm around his wide and muscular shoulders, sobbing.

The tears he couldn’t let out because Sir Nighteye told him to keep smiling no matter what.

Tears of defeat not knowing whether or not his quirk would come back.

The tears of anger knowing how damn hard he worked to get to where he was, only to give it up for a little girl.

Tears knowing he knew being a hero who was desperately saving someone meant sacrificing his dream.

And all he could do was return her embrace, knowing exactly how she felt.

Her pillar was gone.

–

The debrief and piles of paperwork from the raid continued even after the interns got back to school. Aizawa had one-on-one counseling with each of them to keep their mental health in check. Ren’s was particularly short considering her history; it was more like she had nothing left to say. Everything was blurry and numb to her at that point.

The raven haired man requested her to come to him if she wanted to talk and didn’t push her any more. The train ride back was in complete silence. By the time they made it back to the dorms, it was already nightfall. As much as Ren wanted to message Seri and Tomoe, she was far too exhausted to do anything and just wanted to sleep.

The five were greeted with the entire class of 1-A.

“We were all super worried!”

“Is everyone okay?”

“We saw everything on the news!”

“You bastards are always coming home after getting caught up in somethin’ serious!” Kaminari shouted with distress. “Just stop scaring us for once!”

As the barrage of uneasiness continued, Todoroki saw one individual in the back with un-styled rose-gold hair. Her face was decorated with bandages and puffy red eyes, her skin sallow and sickly. Outfitting an arm sling on her left, she looked completely disengaged and hollow. Ren looked like she was going to disappear if someone took their eyes off of her. From what he saw of the broadcast, the look she had on her face then was all too familiar to him: it was the exact same expression he had from the Sports Festival; full of icy rage and fury.

“Ren-senpai!” Hagakure called and ran into her in the form of a tight hug, jolting her mind halfway back. “You had it rough out there too!”

“All the cameras on TV could catch was you dashing up at the villain,” Sero said. “You were crazy fast and took out one of his arms like it was nothin’!”

“But when your body went limp after he caught you, I screamed my lungs out!” Ashido exclaimed. “I thought you were actually dead!”

Bakugou sitting on the couch also noticed his upperclassman and let out a soft sigh. Even not knowing her full story, the way she was fighting the villain was on a completely different level. The power she used on him was something she dug deep to let out. It was a power requiring necessary sacrifice.

“Yes, we were all worried about them, but let’s calm down!” Iida suddenly shouted. “We all saw what happened, but their hearts have also been worn down by everything that’s happened too. As their classmates, we should give them some space to relax.”

The commotion died down to reflect on Iida’s words. That was when Midoriya spoke up.

“Thanks, Iida but… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

The freckled boy nodded to which the tall spectacled boy joined in on the worrying. As the group dispersed to the kitchen area with Midoriya, Kirishima, Uraraka and Asui, Todoroki made his way to Ren and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her desolate and weary eyes met with his troubled ones, another expression that all too recognizable.

All she could do was rest her forehead on his chest, feeling his heart beat calm her down through his sweater. His right hand naturally made its way up and rested it at the back of her head to comfort her, threading some of his fingers in her hair like his mom used to do with him.

Not wanting any more questions if someone saw them, Ren immediately got off. What they didn’t know was a certain spiky blond boy did.

“Good luck with your license exam class tomorrow,” her soft, hoarse voice said with a faint smile that never reached her eyes before turning in for the night. “Let me know how it goes.”

Even if everything felt normal with everyone in 1-A under the same roof again, certain individuals didn’t find sleep so easily. The mission played on repeat in their heads, the future uncertain.

Sure they rescued the little girl, but what will become of her?

Who would take care of her now?

And would her quirk act up again?

There were so many pieces up in the air and no one knew where it’ll land.

And then there’s the involvement of the League of Villains. Not that they know their true motives, but they were certain they stole the quirk-destroying bullets when they attacked Chisaki’s van. Not even the comfort of Ren’s bed could lull her to sleep after a day like this, despite how tired she felt.

All she could do was stare at was the box containing her past.

He was gone now. She got her closure.

So why did she feel so empty?

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years ago

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Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 21 full draft

Returning to Daibazaal, Lance felt his “freedom” on Altea was all too short. He’d gotten into a fight with his mother over his pregnancy. She wanted to talk about it. He did not. She wanted him taking his medication. He did not. He won the first argument, before losing the second spectacularly. He understood she was curious and in a state of shock, but this wasn’t how she was supposed to find out. He felt like a petulant toddler stomping after their mother. Not that he could stomp. Crutches for up to a month possibly, made that rather hard. He was hobbling high. Hopping high? Some clever alliteration that had him giggling to himself as he followed his mother towards Keith’s room. Well it wasn’t Keith’s room. Keith’s room wasn’t anywhere near this wing of the palace. Plus, Keith’s room had all his knives and his bathtub. A bath would be good... A few candles and some bubble bath... That sounded divine... Oh... but Keith was mad at him. He probably wasn’t allowed to use the bath. Or his bed... Or his dick... He could go for a good hard fuck right about now... Blushing at his own thoughts, he giggled again. His Mami would slap him senseless with her pink slipper if she knew what he was thinking. Waiting for him to catch up, Krolia wandered out the quarantine room, hand on her pregnant stock as she gave Miriam a one armed hug “Miriam. It’s wonderful to see you” “You too, Krolia. You’re glowing” Laughing, Krolia broke the hug “This little one is all to blame. Keeps me up half the night. I just hope they’re not as much trouble as their big brother” “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ve brought Lance to see Keith. I’m afraid he’s a little out of it. The pain medication they have him, has had him giggling to himself the whole walk here. They certainly grow height wise, but sometimes I have to wonder” “Now, both our boys have grown into fine men... for the most part. Keith’s being horribly stubborn. He’s barely talked to me about what happened, more concerned about Lance” “Lance has been much the same. He’s convinced Keith wants a divorce. Dragging him here was like pulling hen’s teeth” Lance felt betrayed. His happy buzz flipping to anger. Turning on the spot, he started to limp away from his gossiping mother. He hadn’t told her that so she’d run off and mock him at the first available opportunity “Lance? Mijo? Don’t you want to see Keith?” “Leave me alone!” Hobbling was faster than relying on his crutches. He wasn’t supposed to weight bare his knee. Lance could count the number of flying fucks he gave on one hand “Mijo...” Jogging after him, his Mami had the advantage of two working legs. Grabbing his arm, Lance shook her off “Mijo!” “No! I told you that in confidence! Not so you and Krolia could have a good fucking laugh at my expense! You weren’t there and you have no idea what it was like!” His mother’s face softened “You know that wasn’t Keith...” “It was the toxin! I know! Ok. But we haven’t been ok for months! Fucking months! This is the most time I’ve spent with him since Christmas! We don’t have much of a fucking marriage! And now you’re laughing at me, when you weren’t even there!” “What do you think you’re doing!?” Storming out of the quarantine room, Veronica marched straight up to him, before slapping him hard across the face “You have no right to talk to Mami like that, not when you haven’t been to visit Keith once since he woke” Clutching his throbbing cheek, Lance glared daggers at his sister. His mother gasping at her oldest daughter’s actions “Oh, fuck off, V. What would you know?” “I know you’re upsetting Acxa! She was in tears. I know you’re abusing our mother for no good reason! She came because you called! I know you’re screaming out here, and too much of a coward to go in there! He’s your husband!” “I know that!” Starting to limp away from Veronica, Veronica yanked his arm, causing his shirt to catch and tear on the handle of the crutch. The action exposing the black purple bruising up his side and across his back. Veronica’s eyes filling with... Whatever. Lance didn’t want to think what she thought. It had to be either pity, or guilt. If she was feeling guilt, then she’d start kicking herself for fighting with him. Life would be so much easier if you could simply buy normality. He’d throw all the GAC that he had, at his friends and family if it would buy them treating him normally. Straightening himself up, Lance wasn’t sorry over the loss of the shirt. It was one of Keith’s. With Keith being broader than him, it didn’t cling too tightly to his developing breasts or his swelling stomach. He was starting to get to big to start hiding it with his own shirts, and he was barely pushing 10 movements now “Don’t fucking say a word” “I thought you only twisted your knee” Wow. His sister was fucking blind. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, exposing his arm and neck, as well as the small amount of bruising he didn’t know he had on his face “And I thought you might know what it’s like for a mission to go wrong. I guess we both don’t know anything... Go back to Acxa. I’m glad she’s doing better” “Everyone is doing better, which you’d know if you weren’t so busy running away” “Veronica, I think that’s enough. Lance, Keith is awake if you want to pop your head in” As far as Lance knew, Krolia had never scolded his older sister before. It was humiliating to have his mother-in-law standing up for him. His mother and his sister were staring at him so intently that every bit off of his happy buzz was gone “I know it’s hard being here, but maybe if you see that he’s doing better, it’ll be good for your nerves. I can come in with you?” Casting a glance up the hall, Lance had no where he could escape to. He’d made his way through the halls because his mother was by his side. His loopy mind wasn’t able to concentrate on all the unwanted Galra scents around them. If he’d continued to hobble, he’d most likely have to face the fact he was horribly lost... “Fine... but only Krolia... and only for a tick” “Mijo...” He didn’t want to get there and be stuck talking to Keith. He knew his mother would ask Keith way too many questions “It’s quite alright Miriam. I’ll be with him. Do you need a hand?” Shaking his head, Lance gathered up his crutches “I’m fine” Krolia was gentle about the whole thing. She didn’t force him to talk as they made their way up to the quarantine room. Pausing to take a deep breath, it was too late to run. Limping in, his heart fell. Sitting on Keith’s bed, Keith and Krystaal we’re sharing Keith’s game console. The pair whispering hotly as Keith’s fingers pressed the controls. Too close. They were way too close. Krystaal’s shoulder rubbing against Keith’s. Keith laughing softly as Krystaal took the console out his hands, then making a grab for it. Keith hadn’t even noticed him there “Keith’s healing well. He’s prone to suddenly outbursts still. The toxin will take about another three quintants to fully clear his system” He seemed fine. He seemed happy. Lance thought Keith would be laying back in bed, with an IV and... not all over Krystaal “Would you two give it a rest already!?” Yelling from the other side of the room, Ezor was cuddled up in Zethrid’s arms “Shut up! Krystaal’s cheating” He didn’t belong here. Napping by the edge of the force field, Kosmo woke when stretched, his back leg hitting the force field with a small crackle “Its to prevent anyone walking in or out. We can pass non-organic objects through” Explaining softly, they were still standing in the doorway. Krolia close, but not quite touching. Licking at the paw that hit the forcefield, Kosmo looked quite miserable “Kosmo keeps zapping himself trying to get to Keith” “He’s... gonna be ok, right? Kosmo...” “Nothing holds him down. He wasn’t affected by the toxin, only the brambles. Keith! Lance is here...” Groaning, Lance took back the mental appreciation of Krolia not pushing him. His husband’s head snapping up at Lance’s name. Accidentally locking eyes with him, Lance’s heart started to hammer. Even sick, Keith was extraordinarily beautiful... Unwantedly, the memories of the planet shot back to mind... Keith didn’t want him “Krolia... I don’t think I can do this” “Do you need to sit? I know it’s all a bit confronting” “I think...” “Lance!” Dropping his crutches, Lance flinched back at Keith’s cry. Guilt clouding Keith’s features as he slowed his actions of climbing off his hospital bed. He couldn’t fucking... he couldn’t do this... “Lance, come sit down. You look as if you need a tick” Picking up crutches for him, Krolia took him by the arm to lead him over to the camp bed she’d been using. Sitting on the edge, he knew everyone was staring at him. Everyone hated him. Whispering softly, Krolia stared at him sympathetically “Is it your knee?” “No. It’s fine... sorry... I’m so sorry, Krolia. This is all my fault” Sitting next to him, Lance heard Keith growling at his mother’s movements. Ignoring her son, Krolia rubbed his back “Take a moment” “I don’t think I should be here...” “What happened wasn’t your fault...” “But it was. It because I went looking for Kosmo that everyone ended up injured” “They were exposed to the toxin before then” “I fucked up... I did this Krolia. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave your planet as soon as I can...” “Lance, you’re overreacting. You don’t need to leave. This is your home too” “Everyone could have died because I went looking for Kosmo” “You went looking for him, because you’re a kind man. Do you honestly think for a tick I would have let you stay had this been your fault?” “I don’t know... You’re scary... but really nice too... I thought I was only staying because you had nowhere to send me” “No. No. Not at all...” “Can I go? I... I can’t even face Keith” “He’s really wanted to see you” “I can’t with everyone here...” “Here, hold my hand” Holding Krolia’s hand, Lance found himself standing before Keith. His husband had his hands clenched, able to look him in the eye, while Lance gazed down at Keith’s bandaged foot “Oh... god, babe. Are you ok?” Words? What were words? His tongue didn’t remember how to make them. Squeezing Krolia’s hand in panic, Krolia smoothly replied to her son “Miriam just told me he’s a little out of it on pain medication. Your yelling didn’t help with his nerves” “It’s your fault not bringing him here earlier. I’ve had to watch Acxa and Veronica being all gross over in the corner. Babe, I’m so sorry...” “He’s a little shaken...” “Mum, I’m trying to talk to my husband” Snapping at his mother, Lance winced. He hated being the cause of a family fight “And I’m trying to explain that he’s shaken. He thinks you seriously want a divorce” Both his mother’s could go jump. He should have taken up Coran’s offer. Softly, Keith’s voice cut through his anger “Lance, will you please look at me? I have something I need to tell you” This was it. This was Keith confirming it. Raising his head, he ground his teeth together. With wide eyed and a washed out complexion, Keith seemed to be staring straight into his soul “I don’t want a divorce” “Why not?” The question burst forth, surprising the three of them. His voice was devoid of emotion “What?” “Why not? Everything you all said was correct. If anything, it was refreshing to hear the truth from you all. I’m fine. Bruising and a bad sprain. Nothing important. I’ll let you rest. Veronica will be wanting to see Acxa” Keith tried to push against the forcefield, hissing when his hands were zapped “None of it was true!” “It is. I... I’ll stay away” “Lance!” “I’m sorry” He truly was. Sorry he still existed and Keith was bound to him through their twins “Babe... No. it’s not your fault!” “It is! It’s all my fucking fault! You all nearly fucking died! You and Acxa... Your throats swelled so badly I... I did this to all of you! I’m leaving. I can’t be here. I know you all hate. I know I’m weak!” Swaying, Krolia pulled him close “That’s enough. Lance, let’s get you resting” “Take Kosmo with you! Please, Lance... This isn’t your fault” Shaking his head, Lance detangled himself from Krolia “He’s your son. Not mine”

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xadoheandterra · 5 years ago

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Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gilgamesh, Monica Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Cor does not do flirting, Uncomfortable!Cor, Gilgamesh is 2000 years out of date and game, Monica is Mom, Poor Cor Day Summary: Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

Car rides were cramped. With four people who stood at or over six feet in height obviously car rides would be cramped. They’d spent days just figuring out how to situate one another so that the damn things could pass by without the need for too frequent breaks in the countryside as the hours of driving past them by, but some things just couldn’t be helped. Gilgamesh, at seven feet, could only have Prompto on his lap for so long before his legs ached. It didn’t help that Noctis utterly refused to settle in the passenger seat up front, and so Gladio in all of his six-foot six glory had to cram himself behind Ignis’ long legs.

Needless to say the normally three hour drive from Ravatogh to Caem would take the six that Cor claimed only because the number of breaks needed and not because, as Cid would claim, the boys wanted to stop and fish at every damned fishing hole they could find. While Cor felt certain that the boys, or rather Noctis in particular, would like to spend each stop fishing Cor knew them to be a bit more efficient than that.

“We should take a photo here,” Prompto murmured as he looked out over the railing of the road where they stopped. His arms were crossed over the metal as he stared out over the trees of the Leirity Seaside. From next to him Gilgamesh snorted.

Cor tried to ignore the conversation and stretch his back against the railing instead. He felt a faint pop and he knew it shouldn’t feel as good as it did, but damn if it didn’t ease some sort of tension somewhere. Then it started to hurt and with a wince Cor pulled away—he was getting old and the reminder made a small part of himself curl up and want to cry; the small, angry and utterly uncaring of his own life part of himself that he worked hard to bury with little success after he foolishly took on Gilgamesh.

“If it shall keep—” Gilgamesh started to say before Cor interrupted.

“Five more minutes,” Cor called to the group, and he missed a good chunk of what Gilgamesh said next.

“—from their assault upon my thighs,” Gilgamesh finished. Cor only blinked before Prompto turned from the railing, eyes wide and brows up, lips pulled apart in shock, before everything narrowed into utter outrage.

“I do not have a bony ass!” Prompto shrieked.

Gladiolus snorted.

“I don’t!” Prompto insisted, firmly, and he crossed his arms over his chest and ground his teeth together. Cor wanted to sigh.

For a moment there was silence, then Gilgamesh smiled. It was a soft sort of thing that made Cor feel a little weird all things considered—he felt nauseated, and briefly wondered if that omelet didn’t agree with him. Then Gilgamesh opened his mouth to speak and Cor viciously buried the nausea under his need to be alert. He could be sick later when the King wasn’t in danger and they didn’t have an itinerary.

“I stand corrected of my ill-gotten assumption,” Gilgamesh demurred, and he ducked his head a little as he did so. The trails of the scarf that Gilgamesh wrapped around his head like a hood shifted with the movement a little. “Your posterior is far more akin to that of a flattened cake.”

Gladiolus snorted again, and promptly buried his face into his hands like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Cor couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“A pancake,” Cor said. His tone was dry, short, but edged with a sort of faintness that only Cid or Weskham would detect if they listened. “You mean a pancake.”

Gilgamesh blinked and turned his gaze onto Cor who felt a flush rise along his neck and found himself in need to viciously squash down the nauseous feeling again.

“What is a…pancake?” Gilgamesh questioned.

Cor thought he heard Gladiolus say something that sounded vaguely like ‘oh my six,’ though muffled through his hands. He did see the way Ignis gripped Gladiolus’ shoulder tightly, eyes wide behind his glasses. He didn’t miss the way Noctis nearly doubled over with his own snort, or the way Prompto carefully edged from Gilgamesh to grasp the young monarch by the shoulder with the beginning of a smile curled at his lip.

“It’s—ah,” Cor floundered for half-a-second before he squared himself up and didn’t buckle under the seven foot behemoth of a man’s curious stare. “It’s a fluffy cake-like breakfast food fried in a pan, often accompanied by sweet toppings, sugar, and syrup.”

Gilgamesh eyed him, then smiled and said, “Ah. I shall have to try this pancake, then. Though I doubt Silver’s posterior shall taste ever as sweet.”

“GIL!” Prompto shrieked, and Cor watched as the royal retinue and King lost it. Ignis barely contained his wheezed snort, and Noctis on the floor outright cackling. Prompto even seemed amused by the words despite his reddening face and outraged look, and out of them Gladiolus seemed unamused. He kept his face in the palms of his hands and muttered more words and Cor felt himself in kinship.

Then a second later Cor turned red when Gilgamesh shifted closer and said, tone deeper and softer, “Although I shall believe that yours might make a wonderful, sweet, and meaty breakfast treat. I would not mind it ridden upon my thighs so.” Cor stared as Gilgamesh’s lips curled up, and he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from how they parted. “Might I propose a trade, then? To have you upon my lap for the rest of this daunting trip? Why it would be positively a pleasure if you were to agree.”

Cor stiffened; this man was wicked and he stumbled backward as he felt his stomach up in his throat.

Gilgamesh eyed him, then backed down with an uttered, “Ah, a check of rain then?” in some bastardized parody of a common colloquial phrase that had Prompto fall over into a fit of amusement.

Quickly the Immortal straightened himself up, lips pressed together into a scowl, and strode back toward the car with a barked out, “Five minutes are up!”

“Thank Bahamut,” Gladiolus mumbled.

Noctis stretched his back as he climbed out of the Regalia at the edge of Cape Caem. The cramped car ride had left plenty to be desired, but at least the journey had finally ended after six hours of inescapable travel later. Noctis wondered if Cindy was anywhere on the property still or if she returned to Hammerhead to continue to run the business there. Cid obviously remained, and really Cid deserved the rest that the lighthouse offered—if Noctis ignored the fact that Cid essentially just fixed up his father’s old royal vessel.

“Cid’ll be waiting at the dock,” Cor said as the last of the car doors slammed shut and everyone gathered in the gravel of the parking lot.

Noctis frowned lightly, uncertain if he wanted to just get right into it and gear up the vessel for the trip to Altissa or not. At the same time Noctis knew he couldn’t delay any further. Luna waited for him in Altissa to summon Leviathan and every day he delayed more put the Oracle’s own safety at risk. No doubt Ravus informed Nifflheim and Aldercapt what the Covenent’s meant, what his sister was doing—and it would only be time before they realized Leviathan was next on the list.

“And just where is this dock, anyway?” Gladio asked. His booted feet shifted on the gravel enough that Noctis glanced over to him, surprised—until Noctis remembered that none of his retainers actually visited the dock before. Out of everyone only Cor knew, and that was because Cor had been on the detail back then.

“There’s an elevator in the lighthouse,” Noctis said as he started his way up the path. Noctis tucked his hands into his pockets as he climbed, and the group fairly quickly formed up around him—at the rear Noctis could vaguely here Prompto and Gilgamesh get into some sort of soft, heated argument that threatened to bring the travel to a stop for all of a second. A glance from Noctis stopped whatever it was going on between those two, followed by a small frown, and the group continued their route up the path in relative silence.

Noctis preferred the quiet right now. It gave him time to think about the plan ahead—and he would need to have a plan ahead Noctis realized. Right now his plan mostly consisted of get to Altissa and find Luna which to be honest had been the plan since day one so that hadn’t changed. It felt weird to realize that he’d been working on the same basic plan since he first left Insomnia.

The party climbed past the house when Monica spotted them. Noctis knew it to be Monica from the way she uttered, “Cor?” in that strangled sort of way that Noctis could remember from his childhood. Noctis didn’t bother to pause in his climb up to the lighthouse except when he noticed Cor still next to him and turn with a faint bit of paleness to his cheeks.

“Monica,” Cor said, and Noctis turned to look at the second in command of the Crownsguard who stared at their group with a gaze so utterly devoid of emotion that it knocked Noctis off kilter for a second. He didn’t understand why Monica looked at them like that until he heard a slightly cut off, “Is that—” just as Cor said, “I can explain—”

Oh, Noctis thought faintly. Right. His gaze slid over to Prompto and Gilgamesh toward the back; Gilgamesh towered over everyone and had that tight grip upon Prompto’s wrist again, but unlike when they first dragged the man out of Taelpar Crag and into the wonders of how the world worked now, Gilgamesh had finally removed the majority of his armor and dressed down in a basic tunic with an attached hood that dipped low over his face and cast reddish-brown eyes into darkness.

“Cor Leonis,” Monica said, voice soft and it struck Noctis that she wasn’t looking at the party as a whole with a blank face, but rather at Cor with a blank face and the tension drained from Noctis’ shoulders. “You are Marshal of the Crownsguard, not a random field agent on a solo mission.” Cor winced. “A curtesy call for an update as to your status, or the status of those with whom you travel, is expected.”

“Monica—” Cor started, then paused, then sucked in a deep breath. “The situation changed.”

Monica eyed the group as a whole, and then turned back to Cor and gestured toward the house. “Inside.”

“Cid—”

“Is inside.”

Noctis turned and started for the house without a word, and at his back Gladio and Ignis followed after. Prompto hesitated for half-a-second before he tugged Gilgamesh to follow—only for Monica to raise a hand to forestall both from following directly after them. Noctis paused when he realized that she kept Prompto and Gilgamesh behind, even as Cor already drifted into her space and began to speak softly that they weren’t threats to Noctis’ safety.

“Uh,” Prompto glanced between them, then to Noctis. “Noct?”

Noctis frowned, took three quick steps until he was right next to Monica and Cor, who fell silent, and peered at the Crownsguard intently. “Is there a problem?”

Monica glanced to Cor, and then to Prompto and Gilgamesh, and then to Noctis and bowed her head lightly. “I apologize your highness. You may travel with whom you please, do not doubt, but without verification of—”

“Monica—” Cor started with a faint groan, but Noctis held up a hand so the Marshal quieted.

“I have with me my retinue,” Noctis said carefully, “and while yes, our newest member is for the most part a stranger—he is a stranger we have gotten to know for a few days already, and one who has come highly vetted as he can get by two of my retinue, and by Cor.” Cor winced at that statement, and when Monica arched her eyebrows at him, he shrugged an agreement to the words.

“He is not lying,” Cor said. “Ah—I met Gilgamesh when I was young?”

“Gilgamesh?” Monica questioned, voice deadpan. “The Blademaster from Taelpar Crag.”

Cor nodded. “He is.”

“The immortal who slaughtered far too many Crownsguard before you got it in your head to enter into a series of recently excavated caverns and, by the way it was told, pick a fight at the tender age of—fifteen? Sixteen? The one you nearly didn’t survive?”

Noctis snorted faintly at the way Cor seemed to shrink just a little bit downward. He could remember the man doing so few little times back in the Citadel, and always when Monica hunted him down to bring to his attention something or other that he decided to ignore. Gladio beside him canted his hip and crossed his arms in the way that meant he was enjoying the show, and Noctis didn’t doubt that Gladio had heard stories growing up about Cor, or had some sort of insight as to why Monica seemed to be his minder in situations like these.

“Your point?” Cor demanded, but Gilgamesh chose then to speak up with a slight twist of his head as he regarded Monica, and then regarded the way Cor’s shoulders seemed to knot together.

“Out of all who challenged me, young Cor Leonis near bested,” Gilgamesh uttered. “His denial of the Calling at the Gates did not come without consequence; for Life in return an arm he took.” Gilgamesh glanced to Gladio. “Only one such as he I have faced ever since, and ever shall.”

Monica looked Gilgamesh up and down, and then glanced to Prompto before she turned back to Noctis with her hands placed upon her hips. “Very well. I can concede to…the Blademaster,” the words rang a bit sour, although Gilgamesh ducked his head in acknowledgement of the title. “Given that Cor is with you, and that young Gladiolus as well, but what of his blond companion?”

Noctis frowned. “His blond—you mean Prompto?” Noctis looked at Monica like he hadn’t seen her—she knew Prompto. He she helped train him alongside Cor so that he would be considered good enough for this trip in the first place. She’d even been there when Prompto agreed to make his Oaths; how could Monica forgot all of that? Noctis glanced to Prompto, confused for a minute before he remembered—Steyliff.

“As I said,” Cor said when Monica’s entire countenance softened, especially at the way Noctis suddenly jerked his head away from her and from Prompto and stared off into the distance, “the situation changed, Monica. We will discuss it inside. Suffice to say that this is Prompto Argentum.”

For a moment no one said anything, and then Monica sighed explosively. “Alright. We’ll discuss this—all of this—inside.” Noctis turned to glance at her again, with wide eyes. “Preferably now, your majesty.”

A second, and then Noctis nodded. This time unimpeded the group as a whole made their way inside. Monica took the lead with a comment about informing Dustin, and getting the children out of the way which led to Gladio’s sigh of relief. They could address the events without Iris or Talcott getting underfoot, and Iris would get underfoot at the least, Noctis knew. Hell, she probably had a few choice words for Gladio after all; Noctis hadn’t missed the way that Iris refused to send her older brother messages, or how it upset Gladio.

#fanfic #final fantasy xv #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #cor leonis #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gilgamesh ffxv #fic: the path untrodden #fic: the burning of solheim #monica ffxv

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