#mild to medium angst

[lovequartz]

under wisteria blossoms

⊱ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x reader

⊱ genre: small town, acquaintances to lovers, fluff & angst

⊱ warnings: historical inaccuracy, self-image and self-esteem issues, period-typical views (marriage/women)

⊱ word count: 7900+

⊱ tonight, i’ll send the glow of a firefly to somewhere near your window

⊱ notes: happy and somewhat relived to be able to share this, i think like aoybb this is something that i worked really hard on and tried my best with <3

The boy's skin feels warm and clammy underneath Wonwoo’s fingers. He’s glad the family called him when they did, thankfully the young boy’s condition had been better than he’d anticipated. He hangs his stethoscope back into its place over his shoulders and turns to the boy’s grandfather. 

“It’s a mild fever, he should be feeling better with a few doses of herbal tea and lots of rest,” Wonwoo pauses to pull the young boy’s shirt down and the sheet covering him, back up, “please don’t hesitate to call me if anything changes.” 

Your father walks the doctor to the door and bids him farewell with a firm handshake as well as a pat on the shoulder. As soon as the door shuts you move to change the washcloth resting on your nephew’s head.

“You could’ve greeted him properly rather than peek at him from the hallway,” your father teases. 

You shake your head as your hands busy themselves with wringing the washcloth. “He was so handsome,” you sigh, “I almost broke into a rash just staring at him.” You place the now cool fabric back into place across your nephew’s forehead, and press your moist hands against your cheeks in a futile effort to bring a chill to your warm face. Perhaps you’re the one with the fever now.

Your paths do not cross with the young and handsome doctor until sometime a week or two later. Your parents had insisted you bring him a small basket of persimmons on your morning delivery to thank him for Silas’s care, and your sister, Silas’s mother, had insisted that you bring your nephew with you.

So there you were, the pair of you, walking towards the town center to find Jeon Wonwoo’s office of practice. 

Silas squeezes your hand to get your attention and you glance toward him to let him know you’re listening. 

“Auntie,” he starts, “do you think I should become a doctor when I grow up?” 

You almost giggle but hold it in lest he thinks you’re laughing at him. His mother would probably run the streets in excitement if she’d just heard her son’s query. 

“Now why do I have a say in what you should be when you grow up? You can be whatever you want, I always tell you that.” 

His lips form a small pout before he replies; “You’re my best friend, of course you have a say.”

Tears try to fill your eyes before you will them away with a shake of your head. “Well as your best friend I say that you should be whatever makes you happy.” You tell him and lean down to quickly press a kiss to his cheek. “Now let’s hurry to Mister Jeon’s office so he can get his persimmons and you can go to afternoon classes.” 

The doctor’s office isn’t too hard to find, mostly due to the fact that there’s only one of them, and it’s fairly new to town.

As you and your nephew make your way to the entrance you notice the wisteria plants that span the awning. ‘They'll look lovely when they bloom in spring,’ you muse. 

The bell above the door chimes as the two of you enter and the young man sitting behind what you assume to be the reception desk nods in greeting. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asks once you are closer to the desk. 

“Actually, I’m here with a delivery," you say, shyly holding up the basket, "and payment for Dr. Jeon's house visit." 

"Of course," he stands to receive the basket from you and sets it on the floor beside his chair. You watch him smooth down his dress shirt as he returns to his seat. The man then pulls open a drawer at his side and retrieves a medium sized journal, setting it in front of him and wetting his index finger to flip through its pages. 

"May I know the date the visit took place? As well as the patient's last name and address?"

You provide him with the information and watch as he skims through the cursive written on the journal's pages. 

As you converse with the man about payment you can't help but be thankful about how well behaved Silas is as you do. Although it might have been due to his fascination with the fish in a tank that sat in the waiting area, tucked next to some chairs and a table with a few newspapers, you're no less grateful. 

The two of you leave the office shortly after, your nephew a bit disappointed in not seeing Dr. Jeon, the man who has become the current subject of his admiration. 

"I'm sure we'll see him sometime soon," you say, trying to lift the boy's spirits, "it's a small town after all. Now, run along to class. Your mother will have my head if you're late again." 

Silas bids you farewell with a hug and you watch him jog down the road towards the schoolhouse, his bag swinging behind him. Unbeknownst to you that the doctor you'd been speaking about was watching it all from not too far away. 

Wonwoo is just shy of exhausted as he enters his practice. Removing his hat and tweed coat, holding onto them to hang them up in his office. 

Seungkwan stands from his chair to greet him but before he can utter a word Wonwoo lets out an almost comical sigh. 

"Please tell me I'm done with house visits for the day, I don't think I can handle another matriarch trying to convince me to marry their daughter." 

"You'll be happy to note that all the patients left today are mostly general check-ups." Seungkwan replies with a look of amusement. "Oh and before I forget the daughter of the persimmon farm came by with a basket for you and also took care of their bill for the visit two weeks ago," he continues. 

"I thought I caught a glimpse of her outside. Thank you, Seungkwan, I'll be in my office if you need me." 

Wonwoo closes his office door behind him as he enters, hanging up his hat and jacket on the coat rack to his immediate left. The basket of persimmons sits in the middle of his desk, covered with a cloth that had to have been hand-sewn. It's cream colored with a bouquet of embroidered flowers in the corner, beautiful work. It's a shame he can't enjoy the sweet fruit that lies beneath, work comes first. 

The bookstore's wood stairs creak as you ascend and in turn the bell hanging above the door chimes as you enter. Delight flashes across your face as you lock eyes with the girl who sits behind the counter. She returns your joy earnestly with a small smile and a wave of her hand. 

"You seem to be awfully chipper this afternoon." Jisun notes as you lean against the counter. 

"Maybe because I have it all to myself," You reply, with a smile. 

"I thought you had deliveries to do today?" She asks, confused. 

"Well, I did have one delivery today, to Dr. Jeon's office. My father said if I made that delivery and sent Silas off to classes I could take the afternoon off. I might have to do some this evening though."

At the mention of the doctor's name your friend gives you a coy look, which you ignore. 

Jisun and you fall into easy conversation between the calm buzz of the bookstore and her helping whatever customer needs it. You move to sit beside her behind the counter, to free up space. She tells you all about the planning being done by her mother for her upcoming wedding. Her engagement to the eldest son of the town's pottering family, Kim Doyoung, happened sometime this past winter. Jisun was over the moon when he had asked for her hand; you remember her crush on him from your school days. He was set to take over the family business in two to three years due to his father's declining health. 

"I'm thinking late summer or next autumn, because of the weather. My mother wants it to happen as early as possible, but Doyoung and I are okay with waiting a bit longer. His mother is fine with whatever I decide, she's truly wonderful." 

"I'm sure everything will work out. I just can't wait to atten– your response is cut off by the bell above the door chiming to announce a customer, your and Jisun's eyes snapping to the door. 

To your utter horror, Jeon Wonwoo enters the bookstore. 

You duck behind the counter quickly, praying he hasn't seen you yet and clutching your headscarf so it obscures your face better. 

Jisun gives you a confused look but you wordlessly plead for her to act normal, breathing a sigh of relief when she turns to greet the doctor. 

"Welcome, Dr. Jeon! I wasn't expecting you today."

You're glad Jisun is a better actress than she seems. 

Wonwoo returns her greeting and asks about the store. To which Jisun replies; "It's been fine, not too busy and not too slow." 

"How's Doyoung's father? I understand he's been taking his medicine diligently, but I haven't got around to seeing him yet as I was in the office all afternoon." 

She offers the doctor a smile, "He's doing much better, thankfully. We're all really grateful to you, Dr. Jeon." 

"Please, call me Wonwoo, I prefer to be 'Dr. Jeon' during work hours." 

Jisun smiles, "Of course."

Your squatting position soon becomes uncomfortable but you'd rather die than show yourself now, so you continue to listen to the two converse. 

"And the wedding? I know you've been planning." 

"Well, nothing is set in stone yet, but Doyoung and I are thinking perhaps late summer or even early autumn. Fret not, you and Seungkwan absolutely have a place on the guest list." 

"Looking forward to it then. Sorry to take up so much time with small talk, your father has a medical textbook saved for me. I told him I would be by this morning but I was a bit too busy." 

"I see, it's likely in his study then. I'll be just a minute!" She replies before turning around to the back of the bookstore, shooting you a wary glance before she disappears. 

You hear Wonwoo hum quietly to himself as he waits, and you silently pray for Jisun to make haste. Your legs are burning, not only from the weight of your body but also mostly due to the weight of your deceit. No matter, you cannot possibly let Jeon Wonwoo see you. 

"Here it is!" Jisun announces cheerfully as she returns, holding up the thick book with two hands and a sense of pride. 

"Thank you, Jisun. How much do I owe?" 

Jisun calculates the total along with a hefty discount sparing no room for argument, before wrapping the book up and handing it to the doctor. 

"You take care now Wonwoo! I'm sure I'll see you soon." Jisun says as she bids him farewell. 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the bell chiming, and the sound of the door closing. Grabbing onto the counter you hoist yourself back to standing much to the torment of your legs. 

"What was that about?" Jisun asks with a confused look as you wince and massage your knees. 

You open your mouth to respond but Jisun continues; "Don't you dare say 'nothing'." 

"I don't want him to see me." You admit, looking at your feet. 

"Why not?" She seems incredulous at your confession, "Is it because of your scar?" 

Your hand instinctively reaches to touch the long scar that runs through your left eye and down your cheek. The scar that "marred" you, the one that made people look twice, the only thing that prevents you from finding love. 

You sigh before giving Jisun a hollow smile, "I have to fetch Silas soon. I'll tell you more later." 

And with that you wave to Jisun and make your exit. 

The reminder of your scar brings awful memories back to the surface of your mind, and they are all you can think about as you walk to the schoolhouse.

Early Summer (Two Years Prior)

"Darling, is your sister ready? The Baes will be here any moment!" 

Your sister hurriedly pulls the curlers from your hair, and runs a brush through them. "Give us forty seconds Mama!" She looks you over in the mirror before giving you a reassuring smile, rushing to pick up the discarded curlers. 

"You look beautiful! Now go see Mama, quickly!" 

You meet your mother in the kitchen and she gives you a once over before kissing your cheek. "My lovely girl." 

Your mother instructs you on when to join them at the table after the Baes arrive and to bring the persimmons she's already cut with you. Figuring you still have time, you move to your sister's room where your nephew is playing. 

"Hi Silas." You say softly as you find a seat next to the boy. 

"Hi Auntie, what happened to your special meeting?" He asks with a tilt of his head. 

"The special people aren't here yet so I came to say hi one more time." You reply, pushing his hair out of his face, it was getting so long. 

You and your nephew chat for a bit more until the commotion from the front of the house draws away your attention; the Baes have arrived. 

The Baes were a modest family, a mom, a dad and two children, one boy and one girl. They owned the town jewelers, and were surprisingly well known. Bae Giwoong, the head of the family, was skilled with his hands, creating beautiful pieces that complimented anyone. Paired with a wife that had vast knowledge on jewels and precious stones, they had done quite well for themselves.

Hyunsik, the son, had come in earnest with his family to potentially ask for your hand. You were quite nervous, but seeing as your sister had married almost four years prior and had Silas, it was only natural that you were thinking about marriage as well. 

The meeting was dragging on. You had presented the persimmons just as your mother had instructed, before taking your seat at her side, across from Hyunsik who you offered a polite but reserved smile. He did not return it, only glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the conversation between your father and his. 

Soon, the chatter dwindled and the Baes announced their leave. Your father convinced Mr. Bae to have a cigar with him just outside the house before they departed. You busied yourself with clearing the table of the used forks and now empty cups of tea your mother had prepared.

After your tidying, you swiftly move through the house to the window at the front of it, intent on eavesdropping. 

Peering out you see the son and father chatting amongst themselves, your father probably in his study to fetch the cigar he promised Mr. Bae. Leaning closer to the ledge you're able to hear the two as they converse. 

"They're a good family, what do you think of her?" Mr. Bae asks. 

"They seem to be," Hyunsik agrees, "She's adequate, I suppose. If only she didn't have that unsightly scar," he continues. 

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words, as your hand unconsciously reaches to the scar. 

His father mulls over his words with a hum before replying; "You'd have to keep her under lock and key, the poor girl's mangled." 

The dread in your stomach hardens and you want nothing more than to stop hearing these harsh words, but you are frozen in place. 

Hyunsik nods in agreement, "It's really a shame. I'd be able to overlook it if it were anywhere else, I just can't imagine waking up to that face every morning."

You feel the tears before you register that you're crying, and the sensation is enough to knock you back to consciousness. You stand hurriedly and make your way to your room before anyone can see you in this pathetic state. 

 You pretend. In the day you are just yourself, getting errands done and living day to day. You pretend to agree, when your mother tells you that Bae Hyunsik would not be asking for your hand due to the fact that he believes you two wouldn't be compatible. At night you are inconsolable, crying into your pillow until your tears eventually put you to sleep. 

Silas senses a shift in your mood, but as a three year old he only does what he can. Seeking attention whenever you're sitting idle, laying his head on your lap while you stroke his hair. His little hands playing with your free one. 

Eventually, you learn to move on. As does Hyunsik when he marries the eldest daughter of Lee's dairy farm. 

His words, however, will stay with you forever. 

Drawn out of your memories by the clanging of the schoolhouse bell you quicken your pace, keeping eyes out for your nephew. He appears within a few moments, his own eyes searching for you. You wave to him when he finally finds you. 

"How were classes?" You ask as the boy bounds up to you, reaching to smooth his unruly hair. 

"Good!” He chirps, before launching into detail about his afternoon. Keeping the two of you entertained as you follow the road home. 

The days that follow glide by until eventually they all bleed into a week, a week since you’ve seen the young doctor. Your deliveries go as well as can be expected, though they have been slowing down, and your father is busy preparing the year’s saplings. Silas has gone off to visit his paternal grandparents who live a few towns away, your sister going along despite her relationship of apathy with her in-laws. She did say something about Henry’s younger brother finishing his woodworking apprenticeship so she was expected to be present. 

You find yourself bored without your small friend but find time to chat with Jisun every now and again. Miraculously you haven’t run into Wonwoo at all, though you’ve caught glimpses from afar and he has not gotten any less handsome. 

At dusk your mother finds you with a basket in her hands. 

"Did I forget a delivery?" You question eyes falling to the vermillion fruit. 

"No dear, your father is out with the trees still and it slipped my mind that I had promised Mrs. Lee these. You know her youngest just got engaged," She explains. 

"Ah right I had forgotten. I'll take care of it," you reply, taking the basket from your mother's hands and pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. 

The walk to the Lee home is not long, but it is closer to the town than to your own home. You greet the few townspeople you come across on the way, offering them small smiles and polite nods. 

The greetings have you in a good mood so you have a little more pep in your step as you bound up the Lee family's porch, curling your fingers around the knocker when you make it to the door. 

"Coming!" You hear a girlish voice say, followed by the sounds of the door unlocking. 

With a slight tug of the door inwards you come face to face with Lee Daeun, the eldest Lee sister, one hand laid on the wood while the other cradles her very pregnant stomach. The polite smile on her face slips when her eyes flash with recognition. 

"I had assumed your mother would be dropping by, not…..you." 

You offer a shrug, "Mother sent me instead, sorry to disappoint." You reply jokingly, trying to ease the tension. 

Daeun doesn't respond right away, choosing to study you for a few moments. The silence becomes awkward quickly so you try your best to remedy it. 

"Congratulations to your sister, what a joyous occasion for her. And to yourself, I didn't know you were with child." You say with a warm smile, probably the most genuine thing the two of you had exchanged thus far. 

You hold out the basket to her, which she takes sliding it up her arm so it rests in the crook of her elbow.

"Yes, well, our family is quite satisfied with her fiancé. He's the son of an artisan, and they live a few towns eastward." Both her hands now rest on her stomach, "As for this one, it's only been a few months. Hyunsik is over the moon, and Momma insists on keeping me inside for the time being, so I don't get out much." Daeun's eyes seize you once more before she continues; "And yourself? I know your family has been searching for suitors, any success?" 

She may as well have doused you in cold water with the way her tone becomes icy. 

"Unfortunately not. I'm not too worried though, I know finding a suitable bachelor can take some time and I'm nothing if not patient." 

A scoff escapes her at your reply. "Worried? I feel you should be rather embarrassed. My youngest sister, a girl who we both watched play with mud when we were all children, is now engaged. Meanwhile you continue to age with no partner to call yours, as well as toting around your poor nephew pretending he's your own. I think it's time you face reality, nobody wants a scarred wife no matter how pretty she is." 

You are stunned into silence, fists clenched and nails biting into the skin of your palms. Every cell in your body fighting the urge to cry at the venom Daeun had spat at you for seemingly no reason at all. 

"Give your parents our family's thanks." Is the last thing she says before shutting the door in your face. 

You stare at the door for a few moments, tears starting to blur your vision, before you turn and hurry away from the Lee's home. 

Hot tears are blurring your vision as you head in the direction opposite your house. You want to find somewhere quiet to cry your eyes out before heading back to your residence and pretending everything is fine and dandy. 

Reaching closer to town, you stumble across the fountain just behind the main street, tucked between a few trees. A veranda shielding it from the setting sun with vines of wisteria weaved through its wood. The flowers are nowhere in sight as their blooming season is still a ways off. You, however, are too busy crying to care much about wisteria.

Shakily you manage to sit at the fountain's edge before your body is wracked with your sobs. Fingers fumble to pull the knot of your scarf resting against your chin loose, and once the fabric comes free you bury your face in it, your tears never once stopping. 

You don't know how long you sit there crying, removing your face from your tear stained head scarf every so often to breathe. 

A soft voice is the thing that finally brings you back to reality, and there before you with worry etched into his wrinkled brow is Jeon Wonwoo. 

Your mind blanks at the sight of him, and it feels as if someone has stuffed cotton in your ears as Wonwoo's lips move but you cannot hear a word he utters. His concerned frown deepens as he gets no response from you, leaning closer. It's as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you feel yourself falling backwards as if someone had grabbed onto the back of your dress and yanked. 

Wonwoo cries in surprise as he watches you fall towards the water, arms reaching out to grab you. The sound kicks your brain into gear, it's too late to stop your descent but you throw your hands back to catch yourself. A loud splash echoes through the small area before you are engulfed in the sensation of cold water drenching your skin and clothes. Wonwoo as he lunged to grab you had also met with the fountain water, his hands and forearms submerged, and his body leaning over top of yours. 

Silence buzzes between the two of you as the only thing you can do is stare at each other. It's only then do you truly realize the situation that you've found yourself in. Wonwoo's face is mere inches from your own and the only thing you can think is how much more handsome he looks up close. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and the flecks of honey that swim in the brown of his irises. 

You notice him studying your own face, and as his eyes drift over to the left you remember why you were crying in the first place. Your hand snaps up to cover your scar and this is what seems to break the trance between you and the doctor. Wonwoo can feel the blood rushing to his ears as he scrambles back to his feet, bowing his head and offering apology after apology.

 When you don't respond his eyes meet yours, and he notices you have not made any attempt to remove yourself from the fountain. Your green dress is bunched up over your knees, the fabric now dark due to the water, and your patterned head scarf still gripped in hand. 

Wonwoo's face still feels like it has been set ablaze but he offers you both of his hands, "May I?" 

You nod shakily before he leans over and your hands reach up to grasp his own. He pulls you firmly, but not yanking, and even lets one of your hands go to loop an arm around your waist for a more secure hold. 

You notice how firm his body feels against yours and how much taller he is than you'd thought now that you're practically pressed together. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

Wonwoo slowly removes his arm from your waist and his hand from yours, taking half a step back to give you some (much needed) space. 

"Are you alright? I feel awful about startling you, but I heard the crying and wanted to know if you were okay." 

"I'm fine," you reply, voice small, "my apologies for getting you wet." 

The doctor's lips twitch and you feel perhaps he wants to laugh at you. You wouldn't fault him, you are soaked to the bone, rivulets of water running down your legs beneath your dress. 

"Water under the bridge." 

You almost giggle at that, but duck your head down and compose yourself quickly. 

Wonwoo continues; "Would you mind walking with me to my practice? I live right above it, and would feel better if I could get you into something dry before escorting you home. I know you live a bit out of town." 

Before you can respond Wonwoo must have realized how he sounded. 

"I know because you left me the persimmons and I treated the young boy, though I didn't see you there. I have seen you around town with him though, just briefly of course, completely coincidentally. I don't go out of my way to catch a glimpse of you here and there. I promise, I'm not a strange person." Wonwoo rambles in an attempt to clear the air, though you're not sure it needed clearing in the first place. 

The space above Wonwoo’s office is quaint, what it lacks in size it makes up for in homey-ness. Books piled neatly from where they spill out of the bookshelf, a warm armchair nestled right beside it. A dining table with one chair, both a dark cherrywood, sits against the wall adjacent to the small kitchenette. There’s a small wood-burning stove that looks well loved. Everything in the space feels very Wonwoo to you. 

Speaking of, you can hear him rustling through the drawers in the other room. He ushered you in despite your protests, not wanting to drip all over his home. Once inside he disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a towel clutched in his hand, and then layed it across the floor in front of you. “Since you feel so strongly about not getting my floor wet,” he’d said, before disappearing once more. 

You fiddle with your fingers, still drenched to the bone, as your clothes drip drip drip onto the towel. 

Finally, Wonwoo exits the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a bundle of clothes tucked safely in his other arm. 

“I’m sure they won’t fit like a glove, but you’re likely grateful for dry clothes either way.” His tone is a bit teasing, and you can only nod in response with your ears feeling hot. 

“The bathroom is just opposite of my room,” He says, passing over the clothes to your hands, “take your time. It’s just about dark so I’ll be sure to walk you home. You can call your parents, or husband, when you’re dressed. I have a phone.” He continues. 

The ‘husband’ comment makes you bristle but you decide to clear the air with Wonwoo at a later time, desperately wanting to get out of this wet dress.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, and turn to scurry into the safety of the bathroom. 

You get dressed quickly, not bothering with your undergarments. You’d rather have wet undergarments than be bare underneath clothes that don’t even belong to you, the thought flushes your whole body with heat. 

Wonwoo directs you to the phone, it rests on a side table next to the armchair,  and you dial your house phone with urgency, despite the slowness of the crank dial. The line rings for a few moments, and as you hear the other line click “Mother?” tumbles from your lips. 

Your mother says your name with surprise, “Darling where are you? Are you still at the Lees’?” 

“No, something happened on the way home. But I’m with Doctor Jeon, you know Doctor Jeon? He treated Silas when he had that god-awful fever. Well, he helped me out, so I’m fine. He insisted I call you before he accompanied me home, so I was just letting you know Momma.” 

You listen to your mother talk for a bit more before you bid her goodbye, her voice ringing out a “Be safe on your way home!” before you set the receiver down. 

“Thank you for letting me use your phone, and for the clothes,” you say to Wonwoo, who sits across the room from you in that dining table chair. 

“Of course,” he replies, “now let's get you home.” 

The small talk as the two of you walk the path to your family home is pleasant enough. You find that Wonwoo has somewhat of an eclectic sense of humor, and he’s quite witty despite the seriousness of his profession. In no time your home is visible, and you feel a tinge of disappointment at its sight. 

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” Wonwoo sighs as the two of you stand in front of the gate of your home. 

“I suppose,” you echo.

A long pause ebbs between you both as you gaze at each other.

Suddenly you feel a jolt go through you as you have a realization. You’d forgotten your dress on the floor of his bathroom. 

“My dress,” you say bashfully, “I left it in your bathroom.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll get it washed for you. You can come by the office in the next few days, I’ll have it nice and clean.” He assures you with a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

Before you can turn to leave Wonwoo continues; “I haven’t seen your boy around, Silas was it? How’s he fairing these days?” 

You offer the doctor a tight lipped smile, “His father took him to visit family a few towns over.” You think you have to clear this misunderstanding up before it's too late. 

“Also, he’s not mine. Silas, I mean, he’s my sister’s son. I’m not married, I’ve never been.” 

“I see,” Wonwoo replies, and you feel you may have offended him somehow at his tone but he continues; “That’s good then, I felt I may have been acting inappropriately towards you. Thinking you were married and all.” 

“I didn’t think you were acting inappropriately at all.” 

“That brings me relief. Then you won’t think me telling you how lovely I think you look would be inappropriate either? Considering you’re unmarried.” 

You feel your ears are deceiving you, because surely Jeon Wonwoo didn’t just say he thinks you look lovely. But as you gaze at his face, a handsome smirk paints his lips, perhaps your ears work just fine. 

It seems your mother has never had a more perfect sense of timing as she swings the front door open shouting your name. 

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo to call back to her; “I’m here! No need to shout.” 

You hear her footsteps as she makes her way to the gate, shooting Wonwoo an apologetic glance. He offers a soft smile in response. 

It isn’t long before you hear the rattling of the gate lock and your mother’s voice again “Honey, what are you doing loitering around outside…“ Her words trail off as she takes in Wonwoo standing across from you. Her gaze flits between the two of you, pausing at your state of dress; a linen shirt and black trousers that were a few sizes too big. Despite her obvious shock your mother paints on a lovely smile and bows her head in greeting to the doctor. 

“Oh my, Doctor Jeon, I had forgotten you’d be accompanying her home! Thank you for helping my daughter out, you’re quite the gentleman.” 

You shoot your mother an incredulous look, not wanting her to embarrass you further than you yourself already have. She ignores you, of course. 

Wonwoo bows his head with a smile, “Not at all. It was my pleasure, your daughter has quite the interesting personality.” 

“Doesn’t she? We have no idea where she gets it from, there’s no one like her in the family.” 

You assume your mother is trying to rope Wonwoo into having something to eat by the glint in her eye so you jump in. 

“I’m sure Wonwoo would like to head home, Momma. He has a bit of a walk back into town.” 

“Do you?” She turns to him, “We’d hate to keep you.” 

“I have some time,” Wonwoo assures her, “there’s no one waiting for me at home.” 

You can’t help but feel betrayed by Wonwoo’s choice to indulge your mother. 

“Really? Have you eaten? Let me pack some food for you to take!” 

And before any of you can say anything, your mother has Wonwoo’s wrist in her grip gently leading him through the front gate and to your house. 

You run a hand down your face before following. 

Your mother leads Wonwoo through the house, through the living room, to have him sit on the ledge just outside the living room doors that open up to the garden. 

“Now you wait right here,” your mother tells him, “I’ll have my daughter fetch you a drink while I pack up something for you!” 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. 

She eyes you meaningfully before grabbing your arm to drag you to the kitchen. 

“There’s some cold yuzu tea in the fridge, take him a glass please.” She sets a medium sized cup onto a saucer, and you recognize it as a part of the china set your family typically uses for important guests. It’s white with some foliage painted on the side. 

You follow your mother’s command as she busies herself with packing side dishes, reaching past her into the fridge where the pot of yuzu tea sits. 

After pouring a cup you garnish it with a rosemary sprig you pluck from the plant sitting on the kitchen’s windowsill. You're careful not to spill as you make your way to where Wonwoo waits, your pace slow. 

He gives you a kind smile as you set the cup and saucer in front of him, thanking you in a soft voice. 

“Your mother made this?” He asks, after having a sip. The tea is quite refreshing, and it's probably one of the best yuzu teas he’s ever had. 

You shake your head. “I made the pot this time, usually whoever finds it running low makes it, between me and her of course. My older sister can’t brew tea to save her life, she takes after father.” 

“Well, it’s delicious. I suppose you’re quite the master when it comes to brewing tea.” 

You shake your head again, bashfully. You feel small under Wonwoo's fond gaze, not sure what is the appropriate way to act when he's showing you such kindness. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, with Wonwoo sipping at his tea and you trying to discreetly study his face. You know you've thought this before but he really is quite handsome. 

"The garden is beautiful, I don't think I've seen one built in the middle of a home like this before." 

"My great-grandfather built this house," you reply, moving so your body is parallel with Wonwoo's, both of you facing the open space. "He traveled a bit with my great-grandmother and when they built this house they took inspiration from some of the homes they stayed in on their travels." 

"I see." He replies, setting his now empty cup down, his knuckles brushing the side of your hand as he does so. 

You pull your hand away, as if burned, and heat flushes your body. 

Wonwoo doesn't comment on this thankfully but you think you see the edge of his lips twitch. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Your mother's voice rings out. Walking to where you and Wonwoo sit with the containers of food wrapped up in an orange cloth. She sets it between you and Wonwoo as she kneels.

"I don't know what you like, so I added a bit of everything! I snuck in a couple of persimmons as well, we have more than enough." 

"Thank you kindly," Wonwoo says sweetly, giving your mother a smile. 

"It's no trouble dear! And don't worry about the containers, I'll have this one fetch them from you whenever." She says, motioning to you. 

"Well, thank you again. I should be getting on my way now, I've overstayed my welcome it seems." 

"Oh not at all!" Your mother pats his arm, "We're always happy to have you Doctor Jeon. My daughter will see you out, don't be a stranger now!" 

Wonwoo gathers the cloth in his fist, and the cup and saucer in his free hand. You take the china, passing it to your mother before leading Wonwoo back towards the entrance of your home. 

Soon you are in the exact same setting you were when you had arrived; you and Wonwoo standing across from each other at the gate. 

"My apologies for my mother, she's the type to flit around even if you tell her to sit still." 

"Not at all. She's quite the character, but I can tell she's also immensely kind. I now know where you get it from." The smile on Wonwoo's lips is teasing and you think about how nice it is to have someone compliment you. 

After a few more short moments of small talk you urge the doctor to be on his way. The sun had already sunk low behind the horizon and the path back to town settled in darkness. You hurry to grab him a lantern, just to help him light his way home, as the roads would absolutely be dark until about halfway into town. 

Wonwoo promises to make it home safely, and he watches you enter your house before turning and making his way to his own. 

Later that night you lay awake, palm pressed to your racing heart, replaying the moment Wonwoo called you lovely over and over again in your mind.

The next few days are spent with you staying busy, too busy even to go see Wonwoo for your dress. Pruning the persimmon trees and overall maintenance of the farm are the allotted tasks that fall to you. The workload is a bit heavy due to your sister and her family’s absence. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in Wonwoo’s linen shirt, his pants have been washed and folded, but perhaps selfishly, you can't bring yourself to part from his shirt. It smells like him, petrichor with a light musk and the hint of something floral. It's intoxicating and the scent lulls you to sleep better than any tea you’ve ever had. 

Sadly, you aren’t meant to hold on to the young doctor’s clothes forever. You have your mother wash the shirt, and find a bag to put Wonwoo’s clean clothes in so they can be returned to him. You intend to slip out quickly, but when your mother catches wind of your plans she rushes off to grab a few persimmons to send with you. 

“Please, he’ll be sick of persimmons at this rate,” you whine. 

She ignores your concern, slipping the wrapped fruits into your hand. “Nonsense! Nobody can be sick of persimmons,” she argues. 

Soon, you are on your way to the doctor’s office. Unfortunately, with the persimmons in tow. The walk to town is pleasant enough, and you get a sense of tranquility with nobody else on the path except for yourself and the occasional woodland creature that makes an appearance. 

You made a point to doll yourself up just a bit, wanting to leave Wonwoo with a better impression of yourself than last time. You don’t have high hopes, but perhaps just a hope that Wonwoo holds any feelings other than cordiality towards you. Your dress today is a dusty pink, and you’d found your sister’s rouge and applied a smidge to your cheeks and lips. 

The air is somewhat brisk, as it usually is in early fall, but the chill still makes you shiver slightly. Red and yellow tipped leaves sway in the crisp wind, it is undoubtedly autumn. Soon enough you are at the entrance of town, face burning with embarrassment as you catch a glance of the fountain, remembering the events that transpired there. 

Your pace quickens. 

As you come upon Wonwoo’s practice, you are surprised to see him waiting outside. Giving you a small smile and a wave when he notices you. 

“Good Morning,” he greets you with a honeyed voice.

“Morning,” is your soft reply, “do you always mill about outside this early?” 

This makes the doctor chuckle. “No, not usually. I saw you coming up the path from my window, so I figured it was only right that I came to greet you.” 

“Oh,” you try to fight the heat blooming on your cheeks, “I have your clothes, freshly laundered. Mother thought it pertinent to slip in a few persimmons even though I told her you’re probably sick of them by now.” 

The smile has not left his lips yet, and he reaches out to take the bag from your hand, fingers brushing against your own. “I could never be sick of persimmons,” he replies, “after all, everytime I have one I think of you.” 

The heat rushes back tenfold, you are beyond flustered and you think Wonwoo notices because of the way his lips quirk up. You feel your brain has been fried at just those few words and you struggle to form a reply.  Thankfully, Wonwoo takes pity on you, despite being the cause of your non-functioning state. 

“Your dress is upstairs,” he tells you, “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled so I hung it up as best I could. If you’d like, we could go upstairs and retrieve it or I can always bring it down to you.” 

“We can go upstairs,” your voice small as you reply, your heart fluttering shamelessly in your chest at the thought of being in Wonwoo’s cozy home once more.

The fluttering of your heart does not stop even as the two of you climb the steps.

You get a lovely sense of warmth when the two of you enter, and you look at the wood stove still kindling. Wonwoo guides you to sit in his armchair, disappearing to the area his kitchenette is. You watch him grab a resting teapot and pour whatever resides within it into a mug. The mug is then wordless placed in your hands, and you murmur a soft “thank you”. 

“Apple blackberry tea,” he explains, “I thought you might need some warming up from the chill.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you reply softly, “thank you.”

A small smile twitches at Wonwoo’s lips as he watches you cradle the mug and bring it to your lips to taste the tea. “Your dress is in the other room, give me a moment.”

You nod, taking another slow sip of the delicious tea. Both fruits pair surprisingly well, and it seems to be the perfect blend for a crisp autumn day. 

Wonwoo returns, your dress folded meticulously and resting in his hands. Despite how well worn it is it looks almost brand new, testament to his care of it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble!” You stand to take the dress from Wonwoo’s hand, fondness swimming in your chest.

The man just shakes his head, “It was no trouble. It's something that belongs to you so I wanted to make sure it returned to you in an adequate condition.” 

You press the garment to your chest, your eyes meeting his. You try to think of what to say to convey your gratitude but nothing seems good enough. 

It's almost as if Wonwoo turns bashful under your gaze as he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t intend to keep you longer, I would accompany you back to your home but unfortunately I have a few patients to see this morning.”

You snap back to reality at this, “Oh! Don’t apologize please, you’ve done more than enough for me, Wonwoo. I can make my way home no problem. Thank you again, for everything.” You give him a nod, walking past him to the door. However, before you can turn the knob you feel a hand at the crook of your arm, pulling you gently to a halt. 

Glancing behind yourself, you see that Wonwoo has stopped you. An emotion you can’t quite place swims within his eyes, and it just adds to your confusion. 

“Wonwoo..?” You say slowly, when neither of you has spoken for a stretch of moments. 

He uses his delicate grip on you to turn your body so you two face each other once more, and the hand on your arm raises slowly to hold your cheek. Suddenly, his thumb is rubbing against your scar gently. He whispers your name and you feel as if you’ve been caught in a trance, you can’t speak, move, or think. All you can do is breathe and feel Wonwoo’s touch. 

His eyes trace the lines of your face, before they find yours. “From this moment onwards, I intend to court you. If you’ll have me.”

His words stun you, a moment of silence passing between the two of you before it is broken by your mouth, moving faster than your mind can. “Yes, I’ll have you. Of course I will,” You say breathily. 

A smile tugs on Wonwoo’s lips and then he is leaning down to brush his lips over your scar, his hand falling from your cheek and finding your own. 

⊱ notes: as always thank you for reading! it really was a pleasure to write this doctor wonu is very dear to me <3333

[nakahras]

᯽ one more hour • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you finally find out who chuuya is after months of him lying to you. unfortunately, for chuuya, you’re not the only one that figures out the identity of your boyfriend and that makes you a target.

warnings • intentional lowercase, angst, fem!reader, mild/medium language, verbal arguments, depictions of violence/gore, mentions of guns/knives, depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, hospital setting, mentions of injury/blood, chuuya’s an idiot

wc • 6.2k

a/n • i’ve been in the biggest writing funk. ofc this loser ginger was the one to drag me out of it wiriwiieiwieiqi

“how long did you plan on lying to me for? were you ever going to tell me the truth or were you going to hope i just never figured it out and let me live in complete ignorance?” you pace around the ginormous penthouse you find yourself in for the first time since your relationship with chuuya had started.

that was almost 7 months ago now. you can’t believe the amount of times you’ve almost said ‘i love you’ to the man standing a few feet away from you in just the last month alone. it’s comical, actually. chuuya isn’t even that person to you anymore, you don’t no longer even know who he is. you knew him as this above average guy that was an executive for some sort of multinational conglomerate. the adoptive son of the ceo. some form of a nepo-kid. that’s how you rationalized him being so successful at such a young age. 

you didn’t even know he had an ability.

you were delusional to think that this relationship was going so well because you had found the perfect guy. the perfect guy doesn’t lie to you about being a mafioso executive.

you stop pacing. you’re the most idiotic person on this planet. you can’t believe this is your reality.

“god, i cannot believe you hid something like this from me, chuuya. i cannot believe i fell for it.”

you have to give chuuya some credit. while you’ve been pacing and practically yelling at him he has annoyingly kept his composure with a straight face. unfortunately for him, that pissed you off even more. you turn to him finally and stare at the man in silence. his composure doesn’t budge. he gazes back but it’s as if he’s looking right through you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this emotionless before.

you’re desperate now, trying to rationalize your relationship even after finding out he isn’t who you thought he was. because, for better or for worse, even though you haven’t outwardly said the words to him you had, in fact, fallen in love with chuuya nakahara. 

you feel your stomach churn and waterline burn, you needed him to say something, anything. “are you just going to stand there like a fucking statue all night? or are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“how did you find out?” his voice is tight but unfeeling, expressionless and cold.

how frustrating of him. instead of answering your questions he asks one of his own. you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction he clearly wasn’t going to give you. you shouldn’t. but you have a bad habit of reacting before thinking about it fully.

“you attacked the armed detective agency at the hospital i work at? how do you think i found out, chuuya? you know how many times you’ve picked me up from there? just because i don’t work in that wing doesn’t mean my coworkers don’t know who you are. they sent me videos of what happened. i had to pretend that wasn’t you. i almost convinced myself of it.” your breathing is becoming erratic and uneven, only shallow and short breaths escaping you.

chuuya looks to the side as if he’s thinking something over then he looks back to you, gaze unchanged. “so other people know?”

“yeah, i’m sure not everyone believed me that it wasn’t you.” you let out a frustrated sigh, “why does that even matter? you should be focusing on the fact that i know.”

“it matters…” the ginger doesn’t give you any further explanation as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

you want to pull your hair out. he’s ignoring you almost — actually, you think him ignoring you would be less frustrating. he’s completely dismissing your concerns, questions and feelings on the matter. and now he’s texting someone?

that’s it. you were done with this conversation and you were done with him. maybe for good. you walk away to your belongings. chuuya clearly notices your movement and watches intently as you put your coat back on. 

panic finally settles deep within his chest and his voice cracks with desperation as he asks, “where are you going?”

you notice the change and look back at him from the elevator doors. his face is still expressionless, however, your eyes wander down to his gloved hands and take note of the way he’s gripping his phone just a bit too tightly. you shouldn’t, but you give him one last chance to explain himself, he just needs to give you anything to make you stay. it doesn’t need to be big, it could be the most vague explanation. just something enough that you can grasp onto.

“i’m leaving, unless you plan on answering any of my questions?” you look at him with wide and expectant eyes — they’re hopeful even.

chuuya just stands there, again. his bicolored eyes are filled with regret but he keeps his mouth shut. you let yourself sit in the silence that’s been created for a few moments. letting yourself get worked up. he was really willing to let you go, rather than just tell you what’s going on. 

you let out a shuddered and wet breath, tears welling up in your eyes and lips trembling. “i didn’t think so…”

with that you leave his apartment with a tight chest and damp cheeks.

that was 4 days ago and it has been radio silence on your end. chuuya tried calling you later that night but you didn’t answer. since then, there has been no further attempts on his end either. you weren’t sure if he was giving you space or still didn’t know how to answer your questions, but you think you’d prefer him blowing up your phone with no answers as opposed to nothing at all. you’ve been crying over a quart of ice cream all afternoon. you felt pathetic, sitting on the couch in pajama shorts and a hoodie of chuuya’s that you’re pretty sure was left behind on purpose. 

you lean over to set the now empty ice cream container down on the table of your kotatsu. a whine is heard from your lap and you look down to see your previously sleeping cat glaring up at you with an accusatory look in her eye. your movement had clearly disturbed her umpteenth nap of the day. you look at your little companion with an apologetic smile and pet her as an sorry for moving around so much. the torti is quick to be appeased as she starts purring loudly.

mochi, your cat, was the only thing that got you through this entire debacle. without her, you think you may have let yourself wither away into an empty shell. 

mochi’s ears perk up and suddenly she’s on high alert. the cat leaps off of you and investigates something in the kitchen. you hear her hiss and then a sort of bang. your brows furrow and you let out a sigh, thinking about how she probably just made a big mess in the kitchen as she scurries back in the room to hide underneath the kotatsu, bushy tailed and, oddly enough, growling. 

you shimmy yourself out from under the warmth of the kotatsu yourself and get up to investigate the mess you probably had to pick up. as you near the kitchen you feel a draft — funny, you distinctly remember closing the window in the kitchen. 

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

chuuya isn’t even pretending to listen to what’s happening in this meeting. he could feel the concerned gaze he’s getting from kouyou but his nerves are far too shot for him to even pretend to care. all he cares about is you. how you desperately wanted him to open up and be truthful, how betrayed you looked leaving his apartment with tears running down your face, how you wouldn’t answer his phone call that night and how you still hadn’t contacted him to make another attempt at getting him to explain.

chuuya would answer the phone in the middle of this meeting if you called at this very second. he had made up his mind when he finally came to his senses later that night. he always seemed to be one step behind when it came to relationships. being one step behind may be enough to ruin yet another relationship that he cherishes deeply.

the executive can’t comprehend what you’ve done to him. he’s felt on edge since the moment you left the penthouse. his fingers twitch in irritation, his skin crawls, his breath feels constricted. it’s like he’s coming down from a long lasting high. he was having withdrawals. he hasn’t felt this tense and unfocused since he tried to quit smoking a few years back when gin got on his ass about finishing a whole pack in one day.

actually, a cigarette sounded damn good right about now. mori would have a fit though, of course he’s always been a doctor to the core. so, the ginger falls back on tapping his foot incessantly and checking his phone obsessively. 

this meeting feels like it’s dragging, time moving in slow motion almost. it’s only been 30 minutes but to chuuya it feels like 30 hours. it’s agonizing to sit here when what he needs is a distraction. a mission where he can let out his frustration on some opposing force. he’s never been one to complain about meetings but it’s never too late to start.

the executive is ready to leave, literally 30 seconds away from standing up and walking out, but then something happens. one of kouyou’s subordinates urgently walks in and makes a beeline for her. an emergency, clearly, because everyone knows not to disturb an exec meeting otherwise.

kouyou’s eyes widen and flit to chuuya. this worried glance is different from her previous ones. it makes the ginger’s blood run cold and hairs stand on end. if he thought he was on edge before — that was nothing compared to this. 

kouyou wastes no time in reporting the issue as she shoos her subordinate away. “there was activity from one of our many opposing organizations. my people are working on pinpointing which one but… they broke into and vandalized several apartment buildings in the naka ward…” 

kouyou looks at chuuya again. her brows are furrowed in concern, it makes his stomach churn. why is she looking at him like that? what did she even say? chuuya wasn’t focused. he was on the verge of getting up to leave just two minutes ago. 

he was going to leave.

he needed a better distraction from his stewing thoughts of you. the longer he sat here the more time he spent thinking about how he should really just show up at your apartment door. surely, you wouldn’t turn him away if he was willing to finally explain things, right?

“they were all within a 2 kilometer radius of the yokohama city minato red cross hospital-“

mori interjects, “you mean the one you all took the liberty of storming while i was ill due to that cannibalism ability?” 

if chuuya wasn’t paying attention before, he is now. he thinks a knife to the eye would be better than this. physically: the executive is composed and stoned faced — but internally? chuuya is sinking in his seat wishing he would simply disappear. they’re all used to mori’s snide comments, his tongue always being quick and made of silver. sometimes, like today, his comments hit a little harder. 

so, even though they all try to stay composed, chuuya doesn’t miss the way kouyou flinches and once again her eyes flit over to him. 

“yes, mori-san, the same hospital…” the woman sounds almost pained as she talks, her internal panic slowly seeping out through the cracks. “most civilians were unharmed… but there were a couple women who were targeted and are now in critical condition at the same hospital. one of them was pronounced dead by the time she got to the hospital.”

mori hums, eyes cutting over to chuuya. “interesting. chuuya, don’t you have a little friend that lives in the same area?”

there it was. the reason kouyou was so concerned and fidgety. chuuya’s heart sinks and stomach drops to his feet. everything unfocuses, his vision going blurry and swirling. the ginger visibly turns pale and his blood runs cold. his whole body twitches, the need to get up and leave far too strong.

chuuya feels physically ill. how had he not thought of you the second kouyou said what ward it was? he was so busy thinking about himself and wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even think to second guess the information he was being fed. kouyou’s glances tell him it was bad too, or worse, she had no information on your status. 

this was chuuya’s fault. he has this sinking feeling that you were the target. he should’ve known you weren’t safe when you told him people at your work had connected who he was. he should have been more insistent on talking things out. he should have had you come over to his and stay over until he knew you were safe. hell, he should have at the very least set up a detail in your neighborhood.

this was all his fault. 

chuuya abruptly stands up, hands slamming on the table. “i should check on the situation. may i be dismissed, boss?”

“i don’t see why you shouldn’t. report back when you’ve got a handle on…the matter.” mori raises his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement at the executive’s reaction.

chuuya doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even give any of them a second glance as he practically flies out of the room to find the nearest exit to this god forsaken building. he finds an open window and easily hurls himself out of it, using his ability to hurdle himself through the sky. chuuya didn’t even think twice about, maybe, taking a vehicle. his mind was far too muddled to even register what he was doing.

this was all his fault.

he wasn’t looking for practicality right now anyway, he was looking at what would get him there the fastest.

“there” being your apartment. he didn’t want to assume you were attacked. maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. chuuya makes it to the average looking building in record time — which he’d boast about in any other situation, but now was not the time.

the gravity manipulator is about to circle your apartment to get to the front but notices something odd. the window at the side of your kitchen was wide open. you never did that, you only left it cracked open when you were cooking. chuuya enters your apartment the same way he left the port mafia building: through a window. 

what he sees next confirms his deepest fears. he’s had actual nightmares about this — or at least he thinks he has, having never actually been able to dream. but he’s woken up in cold sweats, throat raw from screaming, and a pit in his stomach with you on his mind. this was more like a waking nightmare, he imagines this is what the ones he can’t recall are filled with. 

there’s blood on the floor and also splattered across the walls and kitchen utilities. broken kitchenware is scattered across the wooden slats, your oven and fridge are out of place too. an obvious sign of a struggle. you clearly fought back. of course you fought back. chuuya had tried to teach you some self defense but with further observation he had learned that you grew up taking mixed martial arts classes. something about letting out your bad temper in a healthy way.

all the fighting skills in the world couldn’t save you from a bullet though. there was one lodged in your fridge and wall. as chuuya nears the other side of your kitchen he notices the front door is also wide open, two holes in it indicating more shots were set off. 

then chuuya sees it. his stomach churns violently, so much so that he almost doubles over and retches at the sight. a trail of blood that ends at the front of your apartment and then…

a bloody handprint.

your bloody handprint.

chuuya would recognize it anywhere. he’s memorized every detail of your hands from the size down to the swirls in your fingerprints. you had to have dragged yourself out of your home for help. 

chuuya is glued in place. he feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. the edges of his vision going white as the color falls from his grasp. his ears are ringing, the white noise becoming louder as his mind runs wild. 

you weren’t here.

there was so much blood.

the smell of iron stuck to his nostrils.

where were you?

did someone take you to the hospital?

the hospital.

one of the women that was brought there was pronounced dead. even if that wasn’t you… all of the other women were in critical condition. he couldn’t imagine you being okay after seeing the scene laid out before him. 

chuuya was going to be sick. a wave of nausea crashes over him. he feels the bile clawing up his throat. he scrambles over to your kitchen sink, almost slipping on your blood. he doesn’t let anything out at first, just gags and dry heaves. then his eyes sting and what little contents he had sitting in his stomach are released. this time he really does vomit. 

the executive's breathing is shallow and labored. he looks down to where his hands are gripping the sink and realizes they’re now covered in your blood. he holds them up and his breathing quickens. his stomach churns and he shoves his gloves off. stumbling back as he stares at his trembling hands. it was too much. this was different from all of the gore and violence that comes with being in the port mafia. 

it was you, you were in danger and he wasn’t there. he couldn’t help you. he should have been there to help you. he should have kept you safe.

the only thing that brought chuuya back to reality was a high pitched mewl that came from further inside your apartment. chuuya would recognize that little noise anywhere. mochi. he whips around to find the small feline peeking out from under your kotatsu. the orange glow indicating that it was still on. chuuya lets out a sort of wet and shaky breath. 

the ginger gently approaches the clearly spooked creature. he’s never been particularly fond of cats but for some reason yours took a liking to him and he couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the torti. much like he couldn’t help the way he fell for her mother. chuuya reaches out a finger and mochi hesitantly sniffs it. her eyes light up at the gravity manipulator’s familiar scent and nudges his finger with her nose. 

after getting the clear go ahead from the cat, chuuya leans in and picks her up. the torti nuzzles into him and she was still shaking — or maybe that was chuuya. he reaches down and turns the flammable item off before straightening himself and greet the small feline.

“hey, sweet girl, you scared for your mama too?” chuuya’s voice cracks and he knows he needs to get to the hospital but he feels a little guilty just leaving mochi here in this disaster of an apartment.

chuuya sighs and let’s the torti down. he pulls out his phone and sends out a quick message to kouyou, asking her to send a cleaning crew and to pick up the small creature and take her back to the gravity manipulator’s place. her response is sent mere moments after his own. he doesn’t bother responding. 

the ginger strides over to the front door. he makes sure to close it behind him so mochi doesn’t get out then makes a beeline for the hospital.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

”i’m sorry, sir, i pulled up her chart but you aren’t on her contacts list. unfortunately i’m unable to give you any further information.” the patient services rep behind the counter holds firm on her statement by giving the man a tight lipped smile.

chuuya’s bicolored eyes narrow in frustration. he knows, he knows, that the lady is just doing her job but she’s doing it so infuriatingly well. he’s desperate to know your status and his sanity is slowly losing its grip on him, he’s slipping away with each obstacle. as if answering a silent plea, a tap on his shoulder catches his attention.

the executive swivels around and is met with the sweet old lady that lives next door to you. she was always checking in with you. making sure you had enough to eat and were getting enough rest. you once compared her to your own mother, who is no longer with you but even when she was it was nothing like what the older woman does for you. when you introduced the woman to your boyfriend she was awfully judgemental of him at first, she was making sure he was good enough for you. he didn’t think so but apparently your neighbor thought otherwise, seeing something in him he didn’t see himself.

her usual smile is replaced with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. she was frowning at chuuya, something akin to scolding. the ginger felt oddly accosted by the woman standing before him. she’s never looked at him with so much contempt before.

she folds her arms across her chest and she lets out a huff, “what are you doing here, boy?”

chuuya flinches at her tone like she had just physically slapped him in the face. the ability user quickly recovers though, realizing if she was here that would mean…

you had to be here and you had to be alive, if not your neighbor wouldn’t be standing here in front of him scolding him. no, instead her face would be filled with grief. this was a good thing. 

you were still alive.

“where is she? i need to see her.” chuuya lets out a breath he’s been subconsciously holding in. 

the old lady bristles at his blatant disregard for her own question. “and why should i tell you? y’know, she’s been miserable the last few days because of you? she wouldn’t tell me you were the reason but i could just tell. what did you do to her? is this all your fault?”

chuuya actually takes a step back at her words. he felt like the woman had just punched him in the gut. the older lady packs quite the punch for how small she is, not even standing at 5 feet tall. she’s right, of course, this was all chuuya’s fault. 

it was all his fault.

”i didn’t mean to… she was supposed to be safe. i didn’t tell her anything to keep her safe.” he was rambling now, desperation seeping into his voice. “i just need to see her. please, please, ma’am, you have to tell me.”

the old lady falters, her scowl dropping and a pang of pity spreads across her chest. it doesn’t last long though. the implication of chuuya’s response, meaning he did have something to do with the fact you were in emergency surgery and would be in there for a few more hours.

you’d been rushed to the hospital. thanks to your neighbors, you assailants were scared off by the ambulance and police they called. after the first gunshot went off they were quick to make the call. 

you were brought in with a plethora of injuries. blunt force trauma to the head, 3 gunshot wounds (2 of which were still lodged inside of you), and several lacerations littering your entire body. all of which resulted in severe blood loss and unfortunately for you, since you weren’t the only one to sustain these kinds of injuries, the hospital was on a low supply of blood by the time you came in. 

the old woman is winding up to scold chuuya some more but she’s interrupted by a nurse walking up to her. the woman in scrubs looks exhausted, she must have been in the operating room with you. the nurse also looked worried, she must be a close coworker. 

“nakamura-sama? the surgeon wanted to give you an update…” the nurse’s eyes trail over to chuuya and her demeanor goes from concern to nervous, she nods at chuuya quickly, “please excuse us… nakahara-san…”

oh. she knew who he was. had she been one of your coworkers that he knew? chuuya’s guilt grows as he thinks he should remember who this woman is. this was all so frustrating. no one would tell him anything even if they knew who he was. the executive desperately wants to argue, to stand his ground and find out what was going on.

something occurs to him in that very moment. is this how you felt that day? when chuuya wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t tell you anything. shutting himself off. this was some sick and twisted karma. the universe was laughing in the ginger’s face and he only has himself to blame for it. 

a man’s voice speaks up, “the boy can stay. now why don’t you tell my wife and i how our dear granddaughter is doing?”

the nurse hesitates, looking to the older woman for guidance. mrs. nakamura squints at her husband for an uncomfortably long moment. however, the older man doesn’t seem bothered at all, he must be used to this type of scrutinizing glare from his wife. if chuuya wasn’t so distracted by your status he would be able to acknowledge that he wants that. he wants a future with you and he may be willing to give anything up for that.

mrs. nakamura clicks her tongue. “fine. the boy can stay.”

the nurse eyes chuuya for another moment before explaining your situation. she explains the injuries you sustained. that you’re still in surgery and probably would be for at least a couple more hours. you were doing surprisingly well, a fighter. of course you are. a warmth pools in the ginger’s chest. it was pride. 

“we have hit a small road block. due to the multiple victims being brought in… the blood supply is in the reserves. we have contacted other hospitals in the area and they’ve agreed to deliver us their extra supply. but it’s a process and it may take hours to receive any of it. do any of you know if you’re a match or a universal donor?” the nurse looks at the 3 of them hopefully, her gaze drifting to chuuya more than the other two.

chuuya freezes. he knows that he has type b blood, that’s not the problem. the problem is that he has no idea what your blood type is. he should know that, right? he’s sure you know his, sure you’re in the medical field but it’s common to know your partner's blood type. he should know this. 

he should know this. 

hanged, drawn and quartered. maybe a firing squad or even the guillotine. chuuya lists the ways he thinks he should be executed in his head. he’s had his head so far up his ass with trying to keep you in the dark about who he is that he hasn't even learned the most basic things about you. does he even know your favorite color? your favorite meal? your favorite song? 

this was the most criminal act he’s ever committed and that’s saying something considering the horrific things he’s done for the port mafia. this was bad. unforgivable even. this was all his fault and he couldn’t even tell the damn nurse if he was a match for you or not. 

what the fuck.

what the fuck?

what the fuck was wrong with him?

what does he even say? how does he tell the nurse and the old couple standing next to him that he has no idea if he’s a match for you? he supposes he can play it off. plainly state what his blood type is and leave it to the nurse to figure it out. maybe that could work. it would have to, he doesn’t have another choice. 

but before chuuya can even open his mouth the older man speaks up first. “i'm a universal donor, young lady. you can take some of my blood, i can’t possibly be using it all, i’m sure i have some to spare.”

the older man tries to lighten the situation as he chuckles at his own joke. his wife isn’t amused and even whacks him on his bicep with the back of her hand while clicking her tongue again. the nurse let’s out an uncomfortable laugh and looks to chuuya one last time. of course she would want to take a donation from a healthy young man. 

chuuya shakes his head and hopes to god he’s right when he says, “no, i’m- i’m not a match.”

”i see. mr. and mrs. nakamura, follow me please.”

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

your head feels light, like a morning fog had somehow managed to roll in and settle in your mind. everything was so numb and heavy, your entire body felt like lead. you wanted to keep sleeping. you wanted this annoying light behind your eyelids to go away. who the hell left the lights on?

did chuuya forget to turn them off again? why were they so bright? these weren’t your lights at home, they couldn’t be.

where were you? 

why did you feel like you got hit by a bus?

most importantly, where was chuuya?

…chuuya…

oh. 

you remember now. chuuya was an ass. he told you a sugar coated version of his truth. twisted who he was to fit your ideals even though you had never asked that of him. then he ignored you, refused to tell your anything and left you to the solitary confines of your apartment. and then…

your eyes fly open and you gasp for air. you were assaulted in your own home. someone had broken in and attacked you. they had guns and knives. you were shot. 

where were you?

did they take you? no, they were trying to kill you. you’re sure of that. if it hadn’t been for the sirens that scared them away, you’re sure they would have finished you off.

mochi. your poor mochi. she must have been terrified. oh god, they wouldn’t have…she hid right? she was safely under the kotatsu. she had to be unharmed physically. she had to be. you couldn’t be here right now, wherever you were. you had to get home and make sure she was okay.

distantly you hear this annoyingly incessant beeping and… someone's voice? what is it saying? are they speaking to you? your name. they’re calling for you but- 

who is it?

no. it wasn’t anything intelligible, it was screaming. it was your screaming. you were screaming. why were you screaming? 

a wave of fatigue crashes down on you, drowning you in darkness as you sink back into the depths of slumber.

the next time you wake up, you’re less confused. whatever anesthesia you were previously under obviously had worn off by now. the fog was certainly lifted and you were thinking much clearly now.

you haven’t opened your eyes yet but just by hearing the beeps coming from the monitors next to your bedside, you could piece together you are in the hospital and therefore you are safe. more importantly you’re alive. you try to bring your hand up to rub at your eyes but there’s a weight holding it down.

your brows furrow at the restriction. you stir only slightly, any movement you made right now was agonizing. you let out a grunt as a shooting pain courses through the entirety of your body. this wasn’t good, something like this was going to take a lot of time and physical therapy to recover from. 

how frustrating-

“are you awake?” his voice is gruff, filled with exhaustion but it was clear who was speaking to you.

you could pick out his voice from millions others. even worse, his voice never fails to soothe your soul. instantly your body relaxes from whatever tension it’s been managing to hold onto. traitor. you’re supposed to be upset with him. you should yell at him, kick him out. 

but… he stayed. he was here, he found you and stayed. how unfair. you’re tired, too tired to deny yourself the comfort he brings you. because despite everything, it’s still him. 

you think it will always be him.

so instead of crying or yelling or getting upset you simply give in. “yeah. i’m awake.”

you open your eyes, finally, to look at him. he looks like shit, it would be funny under any other circumstance. his hair is a mess, clearly he had been tug at it, nervously running his fingers through it. his usual under eye bag had bags. the dark circles a stark contrast against his porcelain complexion. 

if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one in the hospital bead, you’d think you two were here for him. after you examine him you look at his expression. it’s grim, he looks truly pathetic. you can only describe it as being akin to a wounded puppy. 

you let out a sigh but before you can even get another word out, he’s speaking. “i should have told you. i wasn’t thinking about you- i know i wasn’t but i convinced myself i was. i convinced myself that i was keeping you safe by not telling you but- i was a damn fool for that. this is all my-“

”chuuya, shut up.” this was so painful, you didn’t want to hear any of this. 

you are tired. you just want him to be there for you. you want him to comfort you. you just want your boyfriend. at this point you couldn’t care less about the bullshit he kept from you. at the end of the day it was his character you’ve fallen in love with and that was more than enough for you.

chuuya looks at you stunned. his words catch in his throat and he thinks he might actually cry. it’s been a while since he’s had the urge to cry like this. was this it? he almost lost you to death. now he was going to lose you in another way and he only had himself to blame. 

the ginger can’t even blame you for your decision. 

after all, this was all his fault.

“i don’t give a shit about who you are. tell me. don’t tell me. whatever. you found me and you’re here now. i just need you to be here. i-“ you choke on your words, you hadn’t realized but you’d started crying and it hurt. “i love you. i need you to not blame yourself for this because you need to be here for me and show me you can do this. please show me you can do this, i wont ask for anything-“

you can’t finish your thought. your lungs are constricted as you're held in his vice grip. you missed him. god, you missed him so much. his embrace is home. he’s your home and that’s terrifying. despite what you said you still have so much to learn about him. chuuya scares you but only because you feel so incredibly safe with him. 

you’ve never had that before and something tells you he’s never had that either. 

“i’m here. hell and back, i will always be here for you.” it wasn’t a direct admission but you don’t question it. this is the closest you’ll come to a declaration of love from chuuya for now and you’re okay with that. truthfully, you didn’t expect him to say anything.

you try your best to return the hold chuuya has on you. you get an arm around him loosely and rest your forehead on his shoulder. you’re still crying, like a baby. it would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. his hand is holding your head gingerly. it’s comforting and you manage to calm yourself down. you pull back, still sniffling but eyes no longer producing tears. 

your eyebrows furrow, something pressing returning to the forefront of your mind. “did you stop by my apartment? has anyone checked on mochi? is she okay?”

chuuya finally smiles for the first time in what feels like days — it might have actually been days since he last did. he pulls out his phone and produces a picture of the torti that kouyou had sent him. he hands the phone to you and you smile fondly as you let out a small puff of air, relief spreading throughout your chest.

“i asked kouyou to bring her to my apartment for the time being. i think she’s taken a liking to it.” 

you look at the picture then back up at chuuya, entirely unamused. “have you seen your apartment. i could fit like five of mine in it? of course she likes it there.”

something warm spreads across chuuya’s entire being. this scene is oddly familiar. reminiscent of the older couple from earlier. this was pure happiness, this is what it felt like. 

chuuya was going to make sure to cherish it deeply and keep it safe at all costs.

[stayevildarling]

Cordelia Goode x Wilhelmina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader - Black Friday

A/N: Hello everyone. I am currently obsessed with these three again so I apologise for the spam. I got the idea for this from the song ,,Black Friday'' by Tom Odell. I honestly wasn't sure whether to carry this on, write a part two or just keep it at this. I decided to post it now to see if anyone on here even still reads my stuff.

tw: mention of past abusive relationship, very mild mention of scars, angst + fluff

taglist: (if you wanna be added or taken off, send me a dm or an ask):

@lunaticwhittaker @billiebeanhoward,@lanawinters-ily,@kenzbro,@minaslittleone,@httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00,@ninaahs,@vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched,@stepintomyworld,@grilledcheeseandguavajelly,@lucyintheskywithxanax,@fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself

Laughter illuminated your face, the room spinning, music filling your senses. Infront of you, Billie dancing cheerfully while she smiled at you. In that moment you knew it was one of those little moments that you wouldn‘t forget. Her perfect blonde curls swaying in synch with her hips, her smile and her laughter filling your heart and her singing causing you to giggle. You were always a lot of things but definitely not one to party. You hated it, the drunk people around, the unnecessary hangover the next morning. But somehow Billie had convinced you.

„Just this once“ she beamed excitedly as she tried to convince you but also convincing your other two lovers, promising one of them could pick you up after and that she wouldn‘t drive, wouldn‘t drink too much and would look after you. Of course you agreed, what other answer could you have given the woman with the beaming smile and excited tapping of her heels and it was worth it, so worth it.

If there was one thing Billie had taught you over the years it was how to have fun. She turned your world upside down, making you experience things you had never experienced before. The medium taught you it was okay not to feel guilty for smiling or showing genuine laughter. Never scolding you for being too loud or embarrassing and never once not in the mood to spend time with you, get out the house with you or spoil you wrotten.

Then there was a certain redhead. Mina, your mina. She taught you what it‘s like to be happy. Billie taught you all the fun parts but Mina showed you true happiness. Quiet moments spent together, eyes meeting at the dinner table, finding a quiet spot in the garden or greenhouse and her reading a book to you. Your heart fills with happiness whenever you get to spend those moments with her. Just like Billie, she never made you feel uncomfortable, never scolded you for asking for things. If you had a bad day, she would take your hand, hold it gently against her cheek and asked what you needed.

„You look so pretty, pretty like the sun“ you whispered, as you sat in Cordelia‘s lap. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, making you feel safe. Delia was your sun, the supreme lit up your world from the start. Often you find it hard to describe her to people or the love you feel for her. But the sun was simply the next best thing. Cordelia is warm, her presence making a room smile and instantly feel safe and comfortable. Her hands always feel warm, instantly making you feel safe. The supreme had taught you what true kindness feels like. To never be ashamed of being too nice or kind to people, whether your loved ones or strangers you would never see again.

„You are so kind my darling“ Delia would tell you after you helped one of the new girls in the academy get settled, no time or effort ever too much for you.

Their love for you was something you couldn‘t grasp til this day. To be loved by three beautiful, kind and powerful women at the same time felt like a jackpot to you, one you didn‘t deserve.

„I‘m so selfish“ you think to yourself as you look in the mirror. Your own thoughts pulling you back into reality. Despite their best efforts the self doubts never quite stopped. Despite being told it was okay to have bad days.

As Wilhemina enters the livingroom, she finds the usual picture in front of her. The coven finally quiet after a busy day, Cordelia reading and grading things, her laptop tucked in her lap. Billie scrolling on her phone while also glancing at the tv from time to time. Despite being busy doing their own things, the two blondes had a blanket around their shoulders, sharing it and occasionally exchanging loving glances and soft gentle kisses.

Usually however, you would be part of this. Wrapped in between them or next to one of them. The biggest beaming smile painting your face as you see Mina, knowing she prefers the coven quiet and also having her work for the day finished.

Today you didn‘t sit there. No beaming happy smile. „Where‘s my little one?“ she asks which causes Cordelia to smile softly. „She hasn‘t really been around since going out to do the shopping earlier“. the supreme explains, the smallest bit of concern lacing her voice but deep down remembering Billie‘s words from earlier, telling her you would be fine and are probably just tired and having a nap.

You are still standing in-front of the mirror as Wilhemina makes her way up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Staring at yourself, feeling emptiness, while your head is filled with all sorts of thoughts and flashbacks.

„Little one?“ the redhead asks after entering the room, having knocked before with no reply as your thoughts completely blocked out your surroundings before. However, her gentle voice and the tapping of her cane, walking towards you, pulls you right back into reality.

„Sorry Mina“ you smile and walk towards her, shaking off your thoughts and mustering up your best smile. The woman scans you for a moment before one of her hands makes it‘s way to your cheek. „Are you alright?“ she asks gently.

Your eyes try to go anywhere but meet her brown eyes, however it was inevitable. Mina always knew when something wasn‘t the way it should be. And your eyes definitely spoke. Delia was the better one at getting things out of you but over the years Mina had learned how to make you trust her, never pressure you and accepting honesty if you didn‘t want to talk about it as long as you didn‘t hide, didn’t lie. That had always been the deal.

„I saw him today, at the shops“ you almost whisper. Your words take a moment for her to register before her demeanor changes. Anger washes over her face before she reaches out a hand to hold yours. „What happened?“ she asks, trying to stay calm.

You explain to the redhead how nothing actually happened and while he tried to talk to you, he didn‘t actually do anything. You might have left out the part where he said some unnecessary things as you knew it would anger and trouble the redhead. Mina tries her hardest to comfort you as she faces an inner battle. She hated him, ever since Cordelia had found out what your ex boyfriend had done to you, physically and emotionally she had trouble not to go out looking for him. She could never understand how someone could treat you this way. Despite Wilhemina‘s past being filled with abuse and hatred, she could never accept that happening to you, her little one and her everything.

„Is there something I can do, little one?“ she asks with a gentle smile. „A book, some tea, a bath?“ she offers, having slowly learnt those things from Cordelia after having to learn herself what could give her comfort in moments of sadness or overwhelming emotions.

After thinking for a moment, you decide for the bath but reassure her that she didn‘t need to run it for you. You feel like having some quiet and being able to process the flashbacks alone. Wilhemina agrees, only after making you promise you would let either of them know if you needed company or anything at all.

As you sit in the bathtub, a while later, adding some of the camomile and lavender bath set that Cordelia had gotten you for your last birthday, you take some deep breaths, trying to calm down, forget about the whole thing. „You‘re so weak, selfish for telling her, it‘s pathetic“ the little voice in your head quickly reminds you. Still burnt into your brain, after he had put all those things into your head years ago. Despite years of healing with your three girlfriends, it didn’t take a lot for the voice to come and haunt you again.

Cordelia‘s thoughts are interrupted as she hears the tapping of Wilhemina‘s cane. She always knew what each tap meant, normal content Wilhemina, nervous Mina, angry Mina. And this was definitely concern and anger reflected in the slightly faster taps than usual. Instantly she puts her laptop and work aside before her eyes meet Wilhemina‘s as she finally enters the room.

„Whats wrong?“ Billie asks, also knowing by now what this expression means. „She saw him today at the shops“ the redhead states coldly but her voice filled with anger. Cordelia immediately stands up, inviting Wilhemina to sit down before calming her down a bit and giving her the chance to explain.

„I thought he was gone“ Billie snaps after the redhead finishes explaining what you had told her not that long ago. „I thought you placed a protection spell around her“ Billie snaps at Cordelia. The supreme explains calmly how that doesn‘t apply to meeting him by coincidence in a shop. „I‘m gonna go up and check on her“ the supreme announces.

Meanwhile you pull your knees closer to you, hugging them. ,,I want a better body, better skin'' you think to yourself, the voice still having the upper hand. The warm water was meant to help make you feel less shaken, the smell of the bath salts making you feel calmer. However it wasn‘t helping. The words of abuse, cycle in your head over and over again like a broken record. Suddenly the tiny scars that Cordelia healed and fixed visible again.

As the supreme approaches the bathroom your thoughts replay in her mind. Being the most powerful witch, Cordelia usually has the ability to keep her clairvoyance controlled. The ability to read other's thoughts. However, with you, Billie and Wilhemina sometimes her magic alerted her of something needing to be adressed or needing the supreme's attention. Your words pain the woman as she takes a deep breath standing in front of the bathroom door.

,,Darling?'' she knocks gently, pulling you out of your thoughts. ,,Yes Delia?'' you ask before she replies if she may enter. You think about it for a moment, not really wanting her to see you in a state like this but also knowing she would be worried if you refused. ,,Sure'' you simply reply before she enters. She gives you a gentle smile as she closes the door and approaches you. As your girlfriend kneels down beside the bathtub, you get a sense of her perfume, reminding you of her, of home.

Both of you sit in silence for a moment before her brown eyes meet yours. That's all it took for your chin to wobble and your eyes betraying you, tears rolling down your cheeks. ,,Oh darling'' she whispers before taking your cold hands into her warm ones. Your eyes reflect sadness but also the silent ask for help, for Delia to take over and as soon as she notices, she simply nods, telling you it's going to be okay.

Gentle sunshine Cordelia takes over, helping you finish your bath, drying you off, drying your hair for you and braiding it. She put you in one of her pyjamas before sitting you down on the bed, positioning herself behind you and wrapping her arms around you. Her head rests on your shoulders and her blonde hair falls on your face, taking in the smell of her shampoo, also reminding you of home and helping you to feel a bit calmer.

,,Do you think they are okay?'' Billie asks, still sitting in the living room with Wilhemina. The redhead takes a moment to think before assuring ,,I'm sure they are, otherwise Cordelia would have let us know''. Billie sighs slightly in annoyance. Part of her simply missing your presence as she hasn't seen you most of the day, another part of her annoyed that she couldn't help like Mina had done prior and now Cordelia. The redhead sitting next to her, senses her annoyance and despite not having the magic ability to read minds, knowing exactly what the medium was thinking.

,,How about you take some tea up to the bedroom? I'm sure that would be helpful'' she smiles gently at Billie. The mediums heart fills with warmth, knowing moments like these are exactly the reason she had fallen for the redhead. She agrees and excitedly waddles off to the kitchen. Mina smiling warmly, as she walks away, her heels tapping on the marble floor.

Meanwhile all your thoughts and emotions had spilled out of you. Delia right there, catching every single tear, listening to every word, making you feel safe and keeping you comfortable. She makes you feel valid with every single thing you say, slowly replacing the voice in your head, with her soft one, reminding you that you are none of those things. ,,I wanna be happy Delia'' you mumble through tears. ,,Do you think you can show me how it's done?'' you carry on. The blonde fights back her own tears, your statement causing for her heart to ache. ,,Of course my darling'' she whispers, pulling you onto her lap, as you rest your head on her chest.

The room is quiet for a while, your tears finally stopped, the only thing to be heard, Delia's heartbeat as you still rested on her chest. A gentle knock interrupts the silence. ,,Come in'' Delia softly says. As the door opens, you open your eyes and see Billie walk in, carrying a little tray with some cups and a teapot. ,,Um- I made some tea for you'' she announces anxiously. Delia smiles softly before looking down to see your face. She walks closer, placing the tray on one of the bedside tables before smiling at you and turning around to leave.

,,Billie?'' you whisper softly and she instantly turns around. ,,Yes babydoll?'' she asks as her eyes lock with yours. ,,Why is there only two cups?'' you ask confused. A bright smile fills her features as Delia smiles proudly. ,,I'll get some more'' she happily announces. ,,Could you ask Mina to come up as well please?'' you ask, your voice sounding small. ,,Of course sweetie'' she smiles softly before leaving for a moment. Delia presses a gentle kiss to your head before whispering ,,I'm so proud of you sweetheart''.

A couple of hours had passed, four tea cups now empty on the nightstand, the air filled with the smell of lavender. You are cuddled up in the middle of the bed. Delia to your right, Mina and Billie to your left. Their soft comfortable presence eventually made you fall asleep, feeling safe in their presence. ,,Do you think she's going to be okay?'' Billie asks after a while. Mina's hand finds hers under the blanket holding it tightly. ,,She will be just fine my love'' Delia replies confidently.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 3

Title: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests   

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You need to think out this whole situation, and where better than your favourite place on campus? The one place where no one ever goes and where you can truly do your best problem solvi—wait who the hell is sitting in your supposed place of undisturbed tranquility? 

Warnings: PG18, heavy swearing, photography jargon (hopefully nothing tooooo confusing, I intentionally over explained a bit for those unfamiliar but a quick google search should clear up anything), euc=short form for eucalyptus “Youke”, art jargon but less, 1 (one) mention of metaphorical murder, and a bit of angst and fluff. I think that’s all?? Hella internal dialogue 

Word Count: 10,804

Release Date: March 2, 2023, 4:00PM

A/N 1: she somehow went from 8k to 10.8k???? Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 1.5: I’m literally so tired of looking at this, I’ve read it at least 10 times in three days. 

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Jungkook’s sitting at a table outside what he considers to be his new safe haven, making a mental note to thank Yuri for showing him the greenhouse cafe—is that its name? He should’ve asked.

He can see himself coming here all the time for quiet morning work sessions. The coffee is great, the snacks are delicious, and there aren’t a lot of people around either—zero—to be precise. So he really considers this a win in his book.

The cafe is just southwest of a medium sized greenhouse, not even a minute's walking distance between the two. He could clearly see all the flowers and plants within from his seat outside. And behind the greenhouse was nothing but a small grass field followed by thick, dense forest.

It doesn’t even feel like he’s on campus. Just free about the world, grabbing a coffee and sitting down to work on a project like anyone else would. Like anyone else could. Another face in the crowd instead of the one on magazines in every corner store, book shop and grocer.

He can dream about it. Take in these small moments, but it will never be his reality. Not really. Even in this little corner of blissful nowhere the barista who served him his coffee knew who he was, addressed him properly, albeit a bit stuttered.

And he can’t blame her. It’s what she’s supposed to do. How she’s ‘supposed’ to react to him. 

He’s someone big and important. Someone people look to and see their future in his hands. Someone who merits reactions when in the presence of others. 

Someone who...

Someone...

So he dreams. And is thankful for what little normalcy he can get.

Taking a deep breath in, he holds it and he shakes his head, dismissing the thoughts before releasing a steady, controlled exhale.

Reset.

The cafe has an awning over its small patio, four tables on either side of the doorway, two that seat four and two that seat two on their respective sides, eight in total. He’s chosen to sit at the table of two furthest from the greenhouse, closest to the cafe. It has more shade, allowing him to see the screen of his laptop better.

Jungkook needed some time alone without anyone finding him, he gave that stupid speech on Monday for many reasons, but one of the most important ones was that he wants to be able to exist in a public space and to do his school work without a crowd gathering.

He’s taking this university thing seriously, and that means doing good work, excelling in his chosen subjects. It requires no distractions and lots of effort.

He doesn’t want to have to be cramped up in his dorm the whole time, too scared to leave for fear of never being left alone. He left that behind when he stepped foot onto the campus.

No more worrying about cameras or security or kingdoms. No more watching and tracking his every step.

This is his time to be a young man, not the prince. Just Jungkook.

And so far? He’s doing okay.

But just in case, he’s also wearing a hat, hoodie and mask for extra protection while editing some pictures.

Old habits die hard.

His Design and Visual Culture professor had given out an intro assignment to the class so he could get a read on everyone’s skill levels and to see where his starting point would be. Professor Hirmer asked everyone in the class to each submit three images: one portrait; black and white or colour, one still life of the photographers choosing, and one image of whatever your preferred style was. Then edit them to the best of their abilities, and submit by noon the following Monday.

Jungkook’s already finished his portrait. He hasn’t really made any friends here yet, so he just took one of himself, which made it easier in the long run because he was so used to his picture being taken.

Slicked back hair, a black tight fit shirt, silver chain and white background made up the shot aside from him. He’d decided on butterfly lighting because he’s always found it to be the most flattering aside from Rembrandt. Don’t get him wrong, Rembrandt’s a nice technique, Jungkook just didn’t want his portrait to be too dramatic.

He got the one he wanted to use in no time, and it required very little editing. Black and white is forgiving like that.

Currently, he’s working on his still life.

A latte with a basic heart design in a dark navy mug sat on the keys of a mahogany wood grand piano. The mug sat on the right side of thirds, and a couple stems of eucalyptus half cover the keys to the left, the tips of it just barely covering the bottom of the mug. He kept his depth of field wide so that most of what was in the frame was in focus, but the primary focus of the entire image is intended to be the drink and tips of the eucalyptus.

Jungkook managed to get one of the six guards his father insisted on him having here to go to a local market to grab the euc stems. Their remains were currently hanging in his shower, smelling wonderful and fresh.

The latte he did himself, a small talent after needing coffee constantly in his teen years to keep up with everything.

And as for the piano? He booked a music room for an hour with one in it. Work smarter not harder.

He’d kept his lighting dark, but gentle, really highlighting the whites of the piano keys while keeping the rich hues of the mahogany and navy present. The eucalyptus is comfortably set in the middle, having some brighter and darker tones to balance it out.

He’s quite proud of it, having created a visually pleasing image that had equal amounts of high, medium and low tones. But he wants the edges of the picture to blur slightly, so he’s adding a very subtly feathered vignette to the image.

He knows most of his peers will likely be doing a traditional still life of fruit or flowers, so he took a risk and made the prompt his own. He just hopes it pays off.

While editing, Jungkook’s simultaneously trying to brainstorm what he wants to do for his third picture. His style of choice is candids, takes them constantly, yet he doesn’t have a single one he wants to use for the assignment.

He likes them best because candids are those perfectly imperfect moments that show who a person truly is, when they’re at their happiest and saddest moments and everything in between. Candids are for when someone’s so caught up in what they’re doing that they look entirely serene in their task, and you want to capture that, forever. A small sliver of them, existing purely as they are.

Nothing fake, nothing practiced, no do overs. Just capturing genuine moments as they happen. A true reflection of humanity without filters or editing.

Jungkook’s thinking of maybe going undercover in the courtyard to snap some pictures of random people to see if that could work when a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Someone, with their back facing him, is very unceremoniously dumping their tote bag at the table most opposite him; the table for two that’s half covered in sunlight, half shaded.

Clad in loose fitting paint and charcoal covered overalls, a white shirt and bandana, they’re taking out what appear to be art supplies.

Brushes, small metal tins filled with paint, a very chaotically colourful water holder, and painting pad all gather onto the little table. He’s surprised at how they make it all fit.

It seems like he’s not the only one who’s seen this place for its potential.

But when they turn around, it’s…You?

It’s you.

Of all people.

What are the odds?

He wants to say hi, but hesitates, still aware of your conversation from earlier and hopes there’s no harm in a friendly hello between people who are acquainted, regardless of pending decisions.

But Jungkook watches your eyes pass right over him, unaware or uncaring he’s there. His half-raised hand falls along with the smile that’s found its way onto his covered face as you continue into the cafe.

A byproduct of his upbringing is being able to read even the subtlest of body language and facial shifts in people. And in your case, it’s like you’re screaming at him without actually speaking.

He knows from your closed off posture alone that you don’t want to be disturbed. But your expression…it's like a mixture of anger, worry and thoughtfulness.

Jungkook knows better than to interrupt someone when they look like that, and he decides against saying anything, returning to his assignment.

A minute later the bell on the door chimes, signaling your exit. 

Looking up, he notes the cup of warm whatever it is in one hand, a very full looking pastry bag in the other, and a water bottle tucked into your side via your elbow.

He wonders what’s inside the cup. Coffee? Would you drink caffeinated or decaf? Or maybe you’re more of a tea person. But would it be black or green tea? Do you use milk? What about sweetener? He can’t decide but that doesn’t stop the thoughts from racing across his mind.

Why does he care so much?

You settle down into your seat, the shaded one of the pair, and—somehow—place your newly acquired goods on the already jam packed table. Truly a talent within itself.

But a sip from your cup, and a bite of something that resembles a tart later, you wipe your hands on your overalls and pick up a brush, wetting it from the colourful container. Bringing the empty, water only filled brush to the paint pad in front of you, you start.

Your back blocks most of it so he can’t see much, but your eye line is honed in on the greenhouse. And if he had to guess just by looking, you’re focused on the orchid that sits front and center. 

He couldn’t name it specifically, but he can see why you’d want to commit it to paper. It’s pretty—yellow and red, very exotic looking, and he doesn't mean to—doesn’t even realize he is—when he finds himself watching you work instead of doing his own, mesmerized.

Your hand moves gracefully from paint to paper to water and back again.  Occasionally, switching out brushes or wiping the one you had on your pants, drying it or maybe getting the last bits of colour off. He’s fascinated with how you know exactly what to use and where to put what in order for the image to spring to life. Most likely years of practice and muscle memory guiding you.

Sort of how he does photography. Years of experience and knowing which poses and angles to use to really make an image pop. For a moment he wonders if anyones looked at his art the way he’s looking at yours.

When you take a small break, stretching out your back and limbs, Jungkook snaps out of his daze and looks at the clock on the bottom right hand side of his screen.

He’s been watching you for nearly 30 minutes.

That’s creepy as hell Jeon, he thinks to himself, lucky you didn’t notice, and returns his sights to his laptop.

Fuck. What was he doing again?

Staring at the still life in front of him, it takes a minute before he recalls.

Oh right.

Professor Hirmer’s assignment. The third image. A picture of his preferred style—his preferred style of candids. What could he do for his candid shot?

He thinks. A candid shot. Candids. Caaaannnndidddssssss. Caaaaaa—

A lightbulb goes off and he feels like both an idiot and a genius.

Retrieving his camera from his bag, Jungkook glances your way and sees you painting again.

Perfect.

Quietly, he gets up from his seat, moving just enough to be able to see a sliver of your painting and a small portion of your face. You're so focused that you don't even notice him, like nothing outside the page matters. And only for a second does he wonder what you’re thinking about.

Your body is easy to read, it’s your mind that remains a mystery.

The sun’s moved ever so slightly so that your page is now fully doused in sunlight, while you remain under the gentle caress of shadow from the awning.

Smart girl.

But your face is bathed in the subtle glow of your papers reflecting illumination. And it's like you’re the one creating light with every brush stroke.

You look transcendent.

With that sight in his viewfinder, Jungkook takes a few shots in portrait framing, his thumb covering the speaker that lets out the ‘click’ noise of a picture being taken, before adjusting his shutter speed.

These pictures all have you in focus, with the background consisting of half somewhat blurry cafe wall, half very blurry forest green. And they’re okay, they work. But he wants to have your movements and surrounding materials in the image as well, to really show the process of an artist at work. So he switches to a landscape framing and settles on a slower shutter speed to create a longer exposure.

Waiting for you to clean your brush in the water cup before snapping the capture button, Jungkook holds steady as it’s a couple seconds before the image takes. It makes him wish he had his tripod with him because it would make this so much easier, but he can make due if he has too. 

And he has too. Because he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass.

After a few more shots and near leg cramp later, he brings the results of his efforts up on the viewfinder for review. Jungkook’s thrilled to see that the movement in the piece was taken exactly how he wanted. Your arm steady on the canvas, but all your movements prior shown like angelically lit rays due to the angle of the sun, creating an ocean of movement around a steadily focused you.

They’re hauntingly beautiful. 

He takes a couple more like that for good measure, getting in different movements and shutter speeds before slowly making his way back to his laptop and table.

Popping his SD card into his computer for closer inspection, Jungkook sees there’s definitely more than one useful candidate and gets to work on narrowing down his favourite.

He is going to pass this assignment with flying colours. And it’s all thanks to you.

As you arrive at the cafe you notice a guy in a black hoodie, hat and mask with his head stuck in a laptop at the furthest table on the patio. Internally, you sigh that there’s someone else here; it’s almost always vacant and that’s why you love it. No people, no distractions, just you and your work, and your thoughts.

You try not to worry too much about it, doing your best to just ignore him and have hope that he leaves soon. At least he’s as far away from your spot as he can get.

Dropping your tote on the chair in the sun, you start placing all your things on the table. It’s an exact science you’ve perfected over many, many paint sessions and far too much spilled liquid. Countless art projects have fallen victim on this table, some you were able to salvage, but most were added to its body count.

Setting down your paint tins, you still can’t get the conversation with Yuri out of your head. Not leaving the building, not crossing the campus, not all the time it took you to get way over here either, no matter how hard you tried.

You huff.

Was your reaction really that unjustified? Could she not see how insane she was acting? Why did she jump to you being jealous? Why would she even think you’d be jealous?

You have Nel.

A prince isn’t going to change that.

And speaking of, you didn’t even get to tell her about your conversation with Jungkook.

After this fight though…you don’t think you will.

He seems to be becoming a sore spot between the two of you, ridiculous as that is, so you think it best to just not bring it up and deal with it on your own. That’s how you usually do things anyway, and you were only going to ask Yuri as a thinking out loud type of thing, hoping she had some input. But it’s clear now that none of it would have been useful anyway.

Finishing placing your things down—all fitting perfectly, by the way—you dig into your tote for your wallet and head into the cafe, still doing your best to ignore the other patron. Hopefully you can give off enough of a vibe that he takes the hint and leaves.

The bells hanging on the door sound as it opens and shuts.

“Hey YN,” Vivian, the barista, calls at your entrance.

You two know each other well, enough to be on a first name basis. You, being one of—if not the only—regular, and the cafe—being a little out of the way of anything else—not having many students make it a part of their routine.

A comfortable, welcomed sort of exile. One you gladly share with her.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, looking at the window closest to where you sit, “Are we painting again? I saw they switched up the flowers in the greenhouse on Monday. The ones they have out now are so beautiful.”

“It’s great to see you too, Viv” you respond, eyeballing the pastry display. You notice they have your favourite egg tarts in today.

At least one thing is going right for you.

“And yeah, they are,” you say warmly, regarding her comment. “I’m thinking I’m about to get real sick and tired of looking at that orchid they placed front and center.”

Viv laughs, patiently waiting on your order, though she’s got a good idea of what it’ll be.

“Could I get a hot chocolate with whip please?” You ask, and drum your fingers on your legs deciding how many tarts to get—two or three? Two or three?—before remembering, “Oh! and if you still have the not so super secret stash of mini marshmallows that you don’t have here,” throwing up air quotes and a smirk for good measure, “Could you toss a few of those in too? I’ll tip you extraaaaa.”

Viv only gives you a look that says yes they do but that she’ll never admit it out loud, and you’re grateful to her.

You’d spotted them one day by chance in first year and asked if you could have some with your drink. Viv merely stated that they don’t have marshmallows at the cafe while slipping a few in under your lid with a wink. You’ve been eternally appreciative for that kindness ever since, and tip her handsomely for it, but you’ve never known why it was such a secret. 

Maybe one day you’ll ask.  

Coffee isn’t really your thing, only turning to it during exams season, and you weren’t in the mood for tea, so hot chocolate’s always your favourite alternative.

But hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows?

Instant mood booster. And you definitely need that after the afternoon you’ve had.

“Anything else?” Viv asks, adding the large amount of whip cream she knows you like to the top of your drink.

“Yeah actually,” you smile, “could I get a water bottle and three of the egg tarts? They’re my favourite.”

Three seemed to be the most unreasonable option, therefore it’s the one you had to go with. And soon, a much too small, very full paper pastry bag finds its way onto the counter, accompanying your drinks.

“I’ll let bossman know about your dragon-like hoarding tendencies with the tarts and see if we can get them in more regularly,” Viv says, unsuccessfully keeping in a giggle at the end of her subtle jab and it makes you laugh too. “I mean, I don’t see why not seeing as you pretty much single handedly keep this place afloat anyway.”

You adore Viv. She’s real and kind, and very much someone you consider to be a bosom friend of sorts. You can tell her if you’ve had a bad day or a good one, and she’ll do the same, no shroud of inane pleasantries. You two having escaped the somewhat awkward ‘you work here and I go here so lets be nice to one another’ worker-customer relationship to a genuine friendship, and it makes the whole experience that much better. 

But it also allows for pulling on one another’s legs, like you do now.

“You’re so mean to me… and lucky I like you for it,” you say, opening your wallet, happy to pay whatever number you’re given plus 30%. The marshmallows and Viv are worth it. “How much will it be?”

She lets you know the total and you hand her a couple of mandatory bills plus a few extra, telling her to keep the change. You’ll lose any coins you have anyway, might as well give them to someone who’ll use them.

Viv says thanks and you make your way back to your spot, hands full and mind feeling a little lighter.

Thanks Viv.

Sitting down, you take a swig of your drink, a bite of your newly acquired tarts and get to work.

Starting with a wet on wet approach: you brush the canvas with water where you’ll eventually put some colour so it bleeds intentionally, and glance up every couple seconds to make sure to get a proper likeness.

It’s a yellow tiger orchid, truly beautiful—you’re a bit of a flower nerd because of your mom, but especially with orchids because they’re your favourite. They just come in so many different forms, it’s hard not to love their diversity.

Dipping into your paints now, you add some yellows in slowly, deciding to think of it as less of a flower study and more of an artistic interpretation so you don't have to use your brain too much. You’ll be using it enough to think through this whole Jungkook thing, no need to get caught up in the details and strain yourself even more.

Carefully put and one by one, more and more colours make their way onto the page and you settle into the calmness of creating. It leaves the open space you need for your mind to finally start working through the whole Jungkook–Yuri, Yuri–You, You–Jungkook situation before immediately correcting that there is no You–Jungkook situation.

He just wants to be friends, and that doesn’t constitute a situation. More of a predicament.

Yeah, that sounds better.

You switch out your brush in favour of a tart after getting base colours down, takinge a hefty bite and chasing it down with more hot chocolate. Damn it’s good, you need to ask Viv what magic she puts in it to make it this amazing.

Another swig and you think it’ll be better to just jump right into your mental debate. Get it over with, hash it all out. 

So that’s exactly what you do.

It isn’t that you do or don’t want to be friends with Jungkook, he seems nice enough.

It’s a matter of if you can be.

Jungkook is probably a very self-disciplined individual—if you knew anything about his upbringing—so it’s not like he wouldn’t understand your drive. He’d probably understand you in that respect more than Yuri does. Why you work so hard, why you don’t slow down. You can’t.

You won't. Not for anyone or anything.

And he can clearly understand social cues so you don’t have to worry about things getting awkward. He would act appropriately, never pushing boundaries—

Using a thin angled brush, you add more yellow to create sharper lines.

—And had he been just Jungkook, you wouldn’t even be sitting here having this ridiculous mental conversation with yourself. Because who stresses this much over a new potential friendship? You certainly never have before.

But that’s the problem, he isn’t just regular old Jungkook.

He is His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

And as much as his title doesn’t mean shit to you, it sure as hell means a whole lot of something to everyone else.

He’s heir to the biggest kingdom on this half of the planet. On the cover of every teen magazine and online news article. Only child to the King and Queen. 

Powerful. Attractive. Single.

In short, Jungkook has been incredibly well known and incredibly important since the day he was born 24 years ago.

So you have to sit and think out what would happen if you became the prince's first female college friend. Well… aside from Yuri, but you don’t know how long that’s going to last, given where she thought things were going.

Being seen with him publicly would immediately put you in a spotlight you don’t want. You hate being the center of attention, but that’s the least of your worries.

You worry greatly that you wouldn’t firstly be known for becoming ‘YN, globally renowned painter, artist and business woman,’ selling pieces for more than they’re worth and then some. Galleries from all over the world knocking down your door, begging for your work. Having billionaires auction off paintings you’ve done for charity, being flown around the world for and by people to have you create something for them. Be it portraits or murals or even a performance—

Some burnished red now, with a small thin tip brush to begin the rorschach like patterns on the petals.  

—You wanted to be successful by your own hand, and then and only then would you occasionally speak of your very, incredibly platonic, not at all romantic, years old friendship with the prince, who you’d met in your college years by chance.

But you know that if you say yes, if you agree, all of those worries would prove true. That none of it would happen. None of the future you’ve worked for the better part of a decade on would come to fruition.

Oh no, no, no. That wouldn’t be the case at all.

Why would it? If you said yes, you’d become this week's most hot and trending piece of gossip. You’d be ‘the first girl Prince Jungkook was seeing in college,’ and everyone would ask ‘are you his new girlfriend?’ or ‘just a fling?’

If you said yes, it would be a constant barrage of:

‘Where did you meet?’ ‘Is he a good kisser?’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Have you met the king?’ ‘Does he like you?’ ‘What about the Queen, does she approve?’ ‘Has The Prince mentioned marriage at all?’ ‘Can we see the ring?’ ‘How many children will you have?’

At the grocery store, the mall, the hallways of your school, your hometown, the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be everywhere all of the time, constantly, and your head is already spinning at all the potential bombardment to your currently nice and relatively quiet life, so you take another snack break and stretch. 

Finishing your first tart and making a good dent in your second, the hot chocolate is half gone at this point. Whip cream and marshmallows having long melted, making the drink extra smooth.

Returning to your painting and back on topic; you’re not dense. You know how the media does what it wants with the people they see as mere puppets. As if they aren’t living breathing individuals with lives outside the very narrow-minded, click bait titled, news articles.

Their ‘reporters’ have absolutely no regard for what they say and how they act. They have not a care in the world for what their claims do to all the innocent individuals whose lives they write about after they’re done with them.

Selfish is the nicest word you can think to describe them. They’re vicious, heartless, vile people, and you have no desire to ever be the object of their attention.

The flowers are springing to life beautifully as you put layer after layer of detail. You add some darker hues, deciding to go with a more vivid red rather than the burnished one from before. Your wet on wet approach is working magic on blending the colours seamlessly for you. It really accentua—

—And another thing! If you did say yes, you could just see it now;

After your successful career launch, you’d always—no matter what you did—always be questioned about your relationship and what could have been with the prince. Or you’d be asked if knowing him is what got you to where you were, if he gave you a leg up, so to speak.

As if you would let him have any hand in making you what you were always going to become.

You didn’t and don’t need his or anyone’s help.

But it would always be, ‘YN? Oh you mean that artist got that much recognition just because she knew Prince Jungkook?’ or ‘YN, the Prince’s ex from college?’ no matter how hard he or you pushed that you were just friends. Because who would listen to either of you after the speculation was already there? After the seed was planted in their minds.

People love secrets and thinking they know all the dirty, gossipy scandals more than anything. Thinking they know more about other people's secrets than they do their own. As if they have nothing better to do with their lives.

Sighing, you drink the last bit of hot chocolate, wanting another one once it’s gone, but not the sugar headache that comes with that. Water then.

Adding some dimension to the petals by using a clean, damp brush to remove some pigment, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the most obvious conclusion that would be made and sink into it.  

You’re almost scared of the social pariah you’d become with every other woman and handful of men on campus. One dating rumor and you're done. Gone. Dismissed.

Or worse. One dating rumor and your popularity will suddenly skyrocket. You won’t have another moment to breathe alone so long as you’re still in school.

Jungkook is the most eligible bachelor on this side of the planet, potentially the whole world. His potential matches are princesses and the daughters of the filthy rich.

Who are you?

No one.

At least right now you are.

You aren’t royal, aren’t of ‘noble birth,’ aren’t a wealthy socialite. You aren’t even an independent, wildly successful career woman yet.

You’re just a scholarship kid who’s only at this school because she worked her ass off for it. Who has to continuously work her ass off for it if she wants to continue to be here.  

And you do want to. You want to work hard and become who you’ve always known you’d be. One invisible, important step at a time. 

From the first sketch to the last brush stroke.

So to summarize.

You don’t want to be the media’s plaything. Something for them to have their fun with and be bored of in a week, the future you’re working so hard to create destroyed before ever seeing the light of day. Fizzled out like a candle in a pouring downfall, only smoke remaining from the once bright and proud flame.

Secondly, you don’t want to be the social outcast or new campus favourite simply because you made a new friend. Having either icicles thrown at you from every set of eyes on campus or clout grabbers following your every footstep, begging for attention. Snubbed from any group projects, crowds parting like the red sea at your arrival, or never getting a moment to yourself again, late to every class due to your own personal assembly.

You’re exhausted at the mere thought of the possibility of either.

And lastly, you don’t want all the possible implications that come with knowing and befriending a man like him. Plain and simple.

What you want is to establish yourself because you worked for and earned it. What you want is to be successful, putting your near decade of practice and studying to good use. What you want is to have media attention, but for your talents, your efforts, and accomplishments.

Not his.

Not because you happened to treat the second most important person in your country like a normal, regular person.

Like he’d asked literally everyone else on your campus to do.

It isn’t your fault you're the only one who has ears that work.

But…on that note…

This is the prince.

And you are his citizen under his family’s monarchy. 

You don’t know if you’re even allowed to say no.

Can you?

He said you could…or was that him just giving you the illusion of choice? Don’t you have to listen to him? By royal decree or whatever it was that forced people to live under the royal family’s rule?

You have no idea, and choose to sit on it some more. There has to be a better solution to this.

You wish you could just talk to Yuri. She’s been your sounding board for the better part of two years now. But that’s definitely a no-go after today. You worry what bringing up anything prince related would do to your friendship right now. You’ve had enough arguments and mental taxation for the time being, thanks.

And if not Yuri…You would talk to Nel…

But Nel’s in a completely different country—a completely different time zone—right now. Already halfway through his night and you don’t want to wake him.

Wait, Nel.

Fuck.

Nel is another thing you have to consider in all this. You aren’t sure how he’d react to any form of relationship you’d have with Jungkook. 

How would he react to the media’s coverage of you with the prince?

Would he believe you when you denied everything?

Five years is a long time.

To know someone. To love them. To trust them. And you both know where you stand. You know where your future lies; with him. And he knows his lies with you.

But Nel is only human, and every human has flaws. No one is perfect. Everyone can have moments of weakness. Every person can feel jealous no matter how secure the relationship.

And jealousy can kill a relationship just as quickly, if not faster than anything else.

Jealousy can make you think things so irrational that it breaks down the wall of trust you built on a foundation of cement and bricks like it was nothing more than two twigs being held up by sheer luck and willpower alone.

A horrible rumor. 

A gust of wind. 

What’s the difference?

Five years of love, trust and communication could crumble to dust because of some asshole with a camera, an angle, and a computer with an internet connection.

You don’t want that to happen. You cannot express fervently enough how badly you never want something like that to happen to you or Nel.

You love your relationship. You love Nel, and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.

But surely he’d understand if the heir to your nation's throne asked you to be his friend.

Surely he’d believe you when you told him that absolutely nothing was going on between you and Jungkook and that the media is just having a field day because he was the prince, and you were a girl around his age.

Surely he would…

Surely…

Five years is a long time.

But it’s also short. If you consider that for just over two of them you were long distance 9 months out of the year. And that two and a half more of them were when you were in highschool doing 60 hour weeks while he had football practice before and after school every day.  

When you spent most of your weekends at galleries, or portrait study or cramming for a test.

When he spent his studying and practicing and catching up on all his lost sleep from practice.

Maybe…

Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him.

A fire can’t start where there isn’t any kindling…right?

An argument can’t start, mistrust can’t begin, jealousy can’t exist if he just…never knows about it.

If nobody knows about it.

Actually.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. Just not tell anyone.

It’s not lying, not really. It’s just omitting a very, very small part of your life. 

And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything bad. It would most likely just be Jungkook asking about where to bring girls on dates or if you’ve seen the newest tv show that’s been on.

You’d tell him Azorè’s is the restaurant closest to campus that’s actually nice, and that no, you haven’t, because you don’t watch a lot of TV if you can help it.

That’s not devious, it’s normal friend stuff—just without the immense social pressure and potential repercussions of knowing him and being female at the same time.

Holy Shit.

This might be crazy enough to work.

And this way… this way you don’t have to say no to Jungkook, and Yuri won’t be mad, and Nel won’t get jealous, and you’ll stay out of the spotlight.

This way works out for everyone.

This way solves everything.

You huff, relieved. 

Now you just have to convince the prince that it’s a good idea.

He’s used to omitting things, isn't he? He must because of his future job. Don’t they train future monarchs in the wise and ancient art of social deception and secret keeping—to keep the peace or whatever?

You don’t think it’ll be that big a leap for him.

The longer you ruminate, the more you like the idea, deciding that when you get back to your dorm later, that’s what you’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well then problem solved all around anyway.

You reach for your hot chocolate, remember it’s empty, and switch to your water instead. Celebrating by mentally patting yourself on the back.

Always trust the greenhouse cafe. The greenhouse cafe is good. The greenhouse cafe is wise. The greenhouse cafe is all kno—

“That’s beautiful.”

You almost jump out of your seat at the voice, knee hitting the table in the process. It makes everything on it bounce and clang loudly and the hand holding your brush that was also nearing your water flies to your chest, leaving a splotch of red paint on your cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, reaching to rub your now throbbing knee. That’s going to bruise. You’re just lucky nothing spilled, you certainly hit the table hard enough.

Looking up to see who your unintentional heart attack provoker was, you blink a couple times before a worried looking Jungkook with big eyes comes into focus.

Though, his worry is brief it seems, as his attention shifts to the painting in front of you, the small smile from the day you met making an reappearance.

Didn’t he just see you jump ten feet in the air? Because of him???

“What the fuck Jungkook?! You scared the shit out of me,” you say scowling, giving him a piece of your mind while your heartbeat returns to a healthier pace. “Didn’t they ever tell you not to sneak up on people in that big, fancy house of yours?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone call the palace a ‘big, fancy house’ before. Another first with you. And he’s about to say as much when his gaze finally meets your own and see’s how upset you are. Right, he spooked you.

The hand not holding a laptop into his side slides behind his neck and he looks away. You swear you can see the prince blushing.

Did you cause that?

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

You look him up and down quickly.

Hoodie. Hat. Laptop. Mask around his wrist.

Jungkook was the guy sitting on the patio from earlier? How did you not recognize him? Like at all?

He has the most famous face in the world and you couldn’t recognize it when it was 20 feet away?

Wow.

Actually.

Hat to hide the hair, hoodie to hide the body, mask to hide the face. 

Impressive. He really knew how to blend in when he wanted too.

But he hasn’t even said hi or sorry. And he undoubtedly saw you earlier as you weren’t exactly subtle in placing your things on the table.

So much for wanting to be friends. He can’t even say hello to you?

...or maybe you got lucky and he saw that you really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Thoughts aside, you won’t admit to him you find his camouflage techniques exceptional. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

Jungkook's hand recedes from his nape and he looks at you again, blush almost gone.

“Ah.. sorry.” He cringes a little. “I’ve always been told I’m light on my feet and I constantly forget when I’m around new people. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry, YN.”

So his manners haven’t completely escaped him. 

You give him a hard time as you point a finger his way. “You’re paying the hospital bill if my kneecap’s broken.”

It only takes a second for the joke to land this time, and a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Yeah, that’s fair. You break it, you buy it?”

It’s the first joke you’ve heard him make, and honestly, it isn’t bad. You chuckle.

“Something like that, sure. Here,” you say, holding the canvas up a little higher for him to see. “It’s a Yellow Tiger Orchid. The greenhouse likes to switch around the plants every other week, but these guys are always my favourite. Make for a fun challenge.”

Jungkook's loose hand touches the edge of the canvas lightly, careful not to disturb the still drying paint.

His words are almost thoughtless, entirely too focused on your work as he says, “You’re incredibly talented, your parents must be so proud.”

“Parent,” you correct, not harshly, just so that he knows you’ve only got the one. “And thanks, it stems from my many years of practice and a shady deal with an even shadier witch. All I know is I owe her my first born.”

That smile of his makes a comeback, only bigger and followed by a snicker.

You match it.

“But yes, my mother’s incredibly proud and a large part of the reason I’m here, never once having stopped supporting my goals.”

That’s true. Very true. Your mum never once thought your dreams were out of your reach, only ever pushing you towards them where she could. Placing steps down for you where she was able to.

She signed you up for lessons, drove you to galleries, bought you book after book on all your favourite artists and painting techniques. She got you paints and palettes and canvases, and did everything she possibly could have to get you where you now are.

She’s your number one fan.

And, in true proud mom fashion, she told everyone she could about how her daughter got into RABFA on scholarship all by herself—except you didn’t. You’re here because of all the support she gave during those years as well as your efforts, but she refuses to take any of the credit.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says genuinely, before hesitating. Looking like he wants to say something but is debating it. “Can I–Do you–,” he inhales deeply,  clearly not used to fumbling over his words.

It’s...cute.

“Would you mind if I sat down?” he finally gets out. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

You think about it only for a second, taking a quick scan of your surroundings. There’s no one around besides Viv, and she’s probably working in the back. Plus, you're pretty sure he’s seen or even spoken to some of the greatest artists of your time. Not to mention, you’d love to hear his input.

“Yeah, sure.”

Instead of sitting on the chair your bag is currently using, he puts his things on the table to your right and spins one around from there, settling down with arms folded over the back of it.

“Thanks.”

You hand over your sketchpad. A perk to using a heavily water based medium is that your painting’s already dried in the time since you first spoke.

Jungkook flips his way through the pages slowly, taking his time in studying each painting as an individual piece. It’s not long before he reaches the one you were working on today. Having just started this pad a month ago, there isn’t much in it yet.

He searches back through to one right near the beginning.

“This ones my favourite,” he says, spinning the canvas around for you to see. It’s a tiger lily painting you’d done late in the summer at home.

Your mother is a notorious gardener, and has several flower beds that could rival a plant nursery with the sheer size, magnitude and variety of flowers in them. 

Rose bushes, dahlias, sunflowers, snap dragons, carnations, tulips, daisies, chrysanthemums, you name it, they were there.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend an afternoon out in the garden sketching different blooms or picking one out in particular to paint.

She’d gotten the bright orange tiger lilies this past spring. They were the first ones you’d chosen when you got home after second year to paint. And then you just didn’t stop. They take up about a quarter of your summer sketchbook.

You couldn’t help it. They were hypnotizing.

“Why that one?”

“It’s my birth flower,” he says, lifting the sleeve on his right, revealing a forearm full of wonderfully inked designs. At the center of it is a tiger lily in matching bright orange hue. “It’s always had significant meaning for me because it’s something that represents me that didn’t come from my lineage, position, or name.”

“Oh.”

You sit there for a moment, stunned, yet to release your gaze from the sight of his arm.

The designs that cover it go all the way up to his elbow and don’t stop.

From an artist's point of view, you’re incredibly impressed with the quality of the work. Intricately placed mixes of black, white and colour. Never one or the other for too long. Strong clean lines. Clear, unmuddied colours. Striking.

Beautiful.

You shouldn’t be so surprised, knowing only the best would be allowed to grace his skin, but still. It was rare you were this taken aback by art. 

The colours chosen on the more visual pieces are gorgeous together. Bright, brilliant, bold. And the few quotes mixed in? Their linework is just… spectacular.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your staring, twisting his arm to show you some of the designs previously hidden from your sight. 

The quality doesn’t lessen.

It’s after you're done intaking the art on his body that you see the strong muscle underneath it. And you let yourself appreciate the discipline that goes into achieving said strong muscle instead of how it makes your mouth water.

Long distance does not help your libido, and you’re only human.

Not that you would ever cheat. You do have a functioning moral compass, and a person you love that you could never do that too in a hundred years.

It's just that you have working eyes... and it doesn't hurt to look every now and then.

To make sure everything’s still working.

It is.

You bring your line of vision back into his.

“I never thought of my birth flower like that before. My mom keeps an entire garden full of them—only child and all.” Like him, you realize. “They’re one of her favourites too. I guess they hold a similar importance to her as yours does to you.”

Jungkook nods as he asks for your birth flower and you tell him. He says he can understand why your mum would be so fond of them, they’re a beautiful and elegant flower, suiting for you.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing off the subtle compliment.

He holds a hand out for the pad and you give it to him, watching as he turns the pages to another drawing before returning it again.

This one’s of your mother, in the small breakfast nook by a window in your home. It’s drawn with dark pencil lead and painted loosely, a slight blending of the two mediums.

She’s drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. It’s one of your favourite pieces that you’ve done recently because it’s your mom, existing naturally.

Not posed for a portrait, or a painting, or a reference, just her enjoying her morning. You couldn’t help but sketch it quickly when you saw her, adding the bit of colour later.

“Is this her?” he asks, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s our breakfast nook. But she reads there more than eats, always saying the window lets in the perfect amount of light.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“Get what?” but he just smiles at you before switching the topic.

“Who do you draw inspiration from, or look up to? I’d guess but I only know the bigger names.”

You inhale, knowing that this answer is always long for you. You get it semi-regularly—it’s a part of being a visual artist the same way asking a musician who they look up to is.

“Well, there’s a couple bigger names in the mix,” you start, “Van Gogh comes to mind first because his work feels like freedom. Lines placed seemingly wherever, yet so meticulously put at the same time. Some aren’t like that, but even then, they still flow like water. I adore his work,” another breath. “Da Vinci. Always. I stand by that fact that he was a genius and I strive to have an ounce of whatever he did. Michelangelo is another. Enough said. The sheer magnitude he was capable of creating was incredible.

“I have a lot of smaller artists I love too. People I’ve seen at local galleries, people I’ve found online, teachers from past classes. Some not nearly as well known artists from a hundred years ago who broke the barriers of art in their time,” you’re smiling like an idiot as you recall all your favourites and how they inspire you.

“I like the people who create and created just because they could, because they loved to. Because it meant something to them to make something with their hands. I mean, look what their passion got them. They all created for themselves, perfected their craft for themselves and that was enough. A satisfying, fulfilling life. I can only hope to have that. But a part of me wants to be one of the lucky few. The ones who shared their art so that others might not feel so alone. They became some of the greatest artists of all time.”

“Also some of the saddest,” Jungkook adds. But he’s looking at you differently now. You can’t put your finger on it but it’s not bad. Something close to curiosity. Or wonder.

“That just goes hand and hand with being a creative person. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t express their pain through their art.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, but those are just for me.”

“Shame.”

That catches your attention. “Why?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate for a second before saying, “Because some of the most beautiful things in life are created out of pain.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that.

You know he’s right. People are most likely to bare their soul into their art when they’re hurt, just to get it out. It’s cathartic for them in the same way crying or breaking things is for others.

The most magnificent things can come from that vulnerability, and it isn’t something you ever take lightly when you’re shown.

You’ve heard enough music in your life to know that the most beautiful songs are the most gut wrenching. You’ve seen so many dance performances you know the ones created from anguish and heartbreak are the ones that make for the most delicate movements; the most fragile moments on stage. You've painted enough pieces in grief over your lifetime to know that when someone doesn’t hold back what they’re feeling when creating, it’s the most emotionally provoking when looked at, listened to and experienced by others.

The audience can feel it in a piece. They can feel it in the movement and in the melodies. In the soul of what was created. Of the creator.

“Yes, they are,” you agree, near solemn, and that’s all that needs to be said.

And a moment of comfortable silence later, he hands you back the pad and you pick up your brush to continue with your orchid.

He watches your every stroke. You pretend he’s not there as you add green to the leaves.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” he asks. “I know it was only a couple hours ago, so I understand if not.”

Jungkook looks nervous when you wash your brush in the colorful water jar. His face reads like he thinks you’re going to say no, like he’s preparing himself for the rejection but his body language gives him away. He’s wringing his fingers under the table, and his leg won't stop bouncing. 

It makes the corner of your mouth quirk. You thought he’d be better at hiding his tics, being prince and all.

But maybe he feels like he doesn’t have to around you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chair, Jungkook feels like he’s sweating buckets. Unknowingly showing every nervous habit he has, but can’t help it. 

He doesn’t tell you that he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t have a lot of people he trusts enough to even consider them friends.

Yeah, he’s always surrounded by people. But they were just that. People. He barely knew any of them, and they only ever wanted to be near him for what it said about them, for what being near him could give them.

He doesn’t say how can’t pinpoint it, but that there’s just something different about you. 

So he’s really hoping you say yes.

Because it’s been…a long while…since he’s made a new one.

And it would be really nice too. 

But he’ll respect your decision either way.

Just please say yes.

Mercifully, you end his suffering.

“I have,” a brush stroke—more yellow. You don’t look at him while you speak, focusing instead on what’s in front of you. “That’s actually why I came here. To think. I come here for that a lot, or to get work done. It’s my favourite spot on campus. Secluded, pretty, quiet.”

He silently agrees with every word, but is also impatient. “And?”

You try your best to ignore the stars in his eyes when you look up from your painting.

“And I’ve thought hard about this, Jungkook. I didn’t just once over the idea and choose on a whim, I fleshed out what it would mean for me—what a friendship with you would mean for me, that is,” putting the brush down, you allow your most recent details to dry. “And I have a condition—just one. It's one you may not like, but it’s the only one you’d have to agree to in order for me to agree.”

Jungkook deflates a little, wondering what you could want. Because everyone always wants something. He was just really hoping you’d be different.

His mind runs through all the possible answers he’s used to hearing; money, clout, pictures, gifts, vacations, an audience with his father, donations, sex, power, the list goes on. 

He doesn’t want to think these things about you, but he can’t help it.

After so long… you get used to it.

“What’s the condition?” he asks, bracing himself.

“That nobody knows we’re friends.”

What? He thinks.

“What?” He asks.

You inhale again, wiping your hands on your pants and straightening your back.

Here we go.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realised that being seen with you publicly all the time would not go over well for me and my future. Anyone can be seen with the prince, but one girl over and over? People will talk about me. And it will be about me, because I’ll be the new shiny toy for them to play with. What I’m wearing, if we’re dating, who am I, what do I do, how did we meet, are you interested, blah blah blah,” you flick your hand, cringing at all of it. “I also don’t want my current relationships to change because of it. I don’t want my mother being cornered in a grocery store by a stranger asking about how her daughter knows Prince Jungkook and if she’s willing to give a quote,” you may actually come close to murder if that ever happened. 

“Not to mention the social repercussions. I can deny everything all I want from here into next week, but the second anyone knows we’re friends? I’ll become  either the most popular girl on campus—which is a waking nightmare for me—or the campus leper, which is a close second. And before you say anything to the contrary,” you fix him with a hard stare, unwavering. “You know I’m right.”

He tries to speak but you hold up a finger to show you’re not finished, and take a deep breath. 

Collect yourself YN, sum it up, drive the point home.

“I don’t need nor want that in my life. So if you want me to be in yours, nobody will know except us and whatever royal people need to so I don’t get tackled for being near you.” He cracks a smile at that.

“If that isn’t okay with you, then that’s fine, I understand. It’s probably an ask you’re not used to hearing, but I hope you understand that I have to put myself first and that this is a hard boundary for me. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even a prince,” you say. “Not even you.”

Jungkook waits a second this time, making sure you’re finished. Then leans back, deep in thought, eyes still trained on you. 

He’s never been so impressed with anyone in his life. 

It’s been a very long time since he’s met someone with such blatant, hard earned self respect. Such candor and veracity, who spoke to him with confidence, completely unwavered. Let alone a woman. 

He’s so used to the fawning that he’s forgotten he likes it when a girl has backbone. Forgotten he likes a girl who doesn’t bend because he asks her to, who doesn’t need him or anyone to get what she wants. 

She can do it herself.

If he’s completely real with himself, his pants are fitting a little tighter as he remembers. As he continues to stare into your unflinching eyes.

But he dismisses that feeling immediately.

He should have known better. You’ve always been honest with him up until this point, sparing as those moments were. So he shouldn’t be as astonished as he is; you’re the one that has yet to break pattern.

Yuri’d fed him piece after piece of information about you. How you almost never leave your dorm when not in class, how you’re always studying or practicing all hours of the day, how school is your number one priority above all else—she really liked to talk.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t let anyone get in your way—not even him—given how the first time you met, you told him point blank that you would’ve rather been in the library than be forced to see him talk. 

Confident and direct from the very start. Unwavering in your goals. 

Jungkook should have known when you said you had a condition, that you didn’t want anything from him, but privacy for you.

You are young, driven, smart, and beautiful.

He’s never wanted someone to be in his life more.

Fuck.

He shifts in his seat, primarily for comfort, but also to buy a bit more time. You’ve yet to break his gaze.

Yes, it is a strange request, and yes it isn’t one he’s ever gotten before, but he can work with it. He understands your need to not be in the public eye. To not have your image decided by the public for you.

Most importantly, he knows what being seen with him can do to a person via the media. It’s terrifying. They’re like vultures, ready to pick the flesh off of any victim they deem fit.

More than one woman has been slandered off the palace grounds because of it. He also should have considered that before asking, but like he knew—like he knows—you’re smart. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t have thought this through thoroughly enough to weigh upon all of the possible outcomes.  

It was a day full of realizations. On both your parts is what he didn’t know.

So he really, seriously should not be as stunned, surprised and…still partially hard as he is. 

Here you are, staring at him, expecting a reply while his mouth is slightly parted and apparently speechless. It’s rare for him to be given such a harsh truth instead of the immediate yes he is so used to hearing. For someone to have this kind of power over him.

When he’d asked you, Jungkook had just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to, maybe hang out with, share jokes with. Someone to spend time with so his college experience isn’t as lonely as it’s turning out to be.

But where he saw a potential friendship, you saw potential disaster.

Because as much as the title grants him, being Prince isn’t a great thing for everyone around him.

Sometimes it destroys them.

He’s still learning though, that you aren’t just smart. You’re calculated. 

You are a scythe in a field of grass, a gust of wind in a foggy gulf, a sunbeam shining through the clouds on a rainy day.

You think things through to their every possibility, finding the best outcomes and worst fallouts. You did it with his request, and managed to find a solution that works at only a small hindrance to him.

So who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it?

The outside world already knows all of his friends. Granted about 95% of them are men, but that’s what you get when you grow up having the sons of the guards, groundskeepers and chefs around. The other 5% are the girls he met during childhood, the daughters of other royals and titled individuals.

And even then with them, the speculation never stopped. Not after years of platonic friendship. There was always a ‘what if?’ thrown onto them. So he understands that if he starts hanging out with a new girl, the media will go wild. Understands that existing in the same place as you and his social etiquette towards you have the power to make or break you, mentally, socially, even physically.

He understands.

So, everything considered?

Your one condition isn’t so bad after all.

And he has no problems with it.

“Agreed.”

You blink, clearly not expecting him to give in so quickly, or to at least debate it. Your eyebrows scrunch as you sputter, “Just like that?”

He grips the back of the chair, and leans forward again.

“I would never expect you to give anything up or be forced into an unwanted narrative because I asked you to be my friend. Of course I agree. It’ll be nice to have someone I don’t have to worry about the press bashing. To have someone normal, who I can be normal around, and who will, clearly, call me out on my shit or set me straight when I need it. So yeah,” he sucks a tooth, “Just like that.”

You flinch a little at his words. “Wait I lied, I have one more condition.”

He’s intrigued, especially considering the look on your face. “Go for it.”

“You can’t throw me in a dungeon for calling you out. My safety needs to be assured for any and all potential verbal ass whoopings you may receive in the future.”  

A full, loud cackle sounds from Jungkook, eyes crinkling as he says, “Deal.” And holds out his hand.

“Deal,” you say, shaking it and laughing with him. Because you know there aren’t any dungeons in the palace.

And somehow, you know that even if there were, he still wouldn’t.

Chapter Four: Sunday Nights and Lost Memories

A/N 2: we do be getting into though.

A/N 3: I know I’m jumping ahead here but I’m excited for you guys to read chapter 4, it’s one of my favourites so far!

<- Back

[wangxianficfinder]

Interesting / Good Worldbuilding pt.2 (AU's only)

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In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Modern AU, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy, Mojo’s post)

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

Castle in the Wastes by ailuridae (abigailnicole) (T, 41k, wangxian, Howl’s Moving Castle fusion, personified Chenqing, canon typical violence)

💖 symmetry by bleuett (M, 44k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Holding Hands, Blow Jobs, Hand Feeding, Cultivation in Space, Yearning, Reunions, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Canon-Typical  Violence, Minor Injuries, Grief/Mourning, Unconventional Time Travel,  Burial Mounds)

mountains, we met by fruitys (E, 79k, wangxian, historical au, the handmaiden (2016) fusion, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, secret identity, touch starved, sharing a bed, pining, getting together, angst w happy ending, implied/referenced suicide, suicide attempt, mental health issues, emotional manipulation, rimming, blowjobs)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending)

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 48k, wangxian, canon divergence, coffin maker au, YLLZ WWX, autistic LWJ, falling in love, hurt WWX, pining, deathscapes, farmer LWJ, burial mounds settlement days, tenderness)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, modern wwx, cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences, Miscommunication, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Anal Sex)

of buried things by Sanguis (M, 31k, wangxian, modern w magic, case fic, witches, magical realism, haunted house, mild gore, pining, getting together, smut, accidental baby acquisation, fluff, tentacle sex)

other earths and skies by binghecarer (T, 54k, wangxian, modern w magic, slow burn, hurt/comfort, canon-typical scars & injuries, curses, East of the Sun, West of the Moon fairy tale au, Mojo’s bookmark)

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Student!WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard!LWJ, Slow Burn, Character Death, Angstreference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon!LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, Case Fic, implied 3zun, Transmigration, America, [Podfic of] take me back to a time by dreamhazer)

I will be chasing a starlight by feyburner, sundiscus (E, 71k, WangXian, Star Trek Fusion, Vulcan LWJ, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pon Farr, Mind Meld, Fuck Or Die, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort)

you’re a bird in the water / i’m a fish on the ground by plonk (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Merpeople, Canon Era)

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

A Fox Demon Fathered My Children by bonbonsbunnies (Not Rated, 26k, WangXian, Fox Demon WWX, Dragon LWJ,  Eggpreg, Mpreg, Some angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced  Fertility Issues, Implied/Referenced Unsafe Pregnancy, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor sex (almost) but Wangxian get cockblocked by the Wens, Anal Fingering, brief thigh fucking, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Implied/Referenced Cheating (not real), unrealistic depiction of having kids, Eventual Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fear of Abandonment)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn) I adore the fic see you yesterday. It could be a good fit for your world-building list. The setting starts a little lower-key, but then gets wilder and wilder.

Duel of the Twins by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 71k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, star wars au, scifi, each chapter is intended to be a whole movie within a trilogy, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, mild body horror, Mentions of Suicide, please take that major character death warning seriously, Angst with a Happy Ending, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Angst, Dismemberment, WIP)

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers by Yukirin_Snow (M, 273k, wangxian, JC/LXC, ABO, Romance, Slow Burn, Pain, Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Pregnancy, Humor, No one dies that doesn't deserve to die, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending)

~*~

[mugiwara-rosewolf]

All My Life

Part One II Part Two

Sabo x F! Reader

Summary: Reader has been a Revolutionary since birth. But her first mission went terribly wrong, leaving her friend Sabo terribly scarred. They've stuck together since the day he lost his memory--but she remembers everything. So when news hits the papers, and Sabo falls ill, Reader has to grapple with the outcomes and consequences of her first and longest-running mission. Has she succeeded or failed? What happens when her former-amnesiac Sabo finally remembers her?

Warnings: Slight Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Trauma, Medium Angst & Mild Cursing.

ROGER'S SON, FIRE FIST ACE, DEAD AT MARINEFORD

This is it. I failed. Two out of three thoughts circled in Y/N's head. Day in and day out. Sun up to sun down. The third, well, the third, was on a loop all its own. A sensation not unlike an iron brand or an ice pick to the chest every time she heard those words inside her head.

Guard him with your life.

That's what Dragon had told her. Her, her mother, her father - her parent's final mission when they set off all those years ago. 'I've hidden something precious on that island. Your mission is to Guard it with your life.' At first, she thought it was just Luffy she was meant to protect. They had docked at Fuschia Village and moved in right next to a little barkeep and one Monkey D. Luffy, and she assumed that was the end of that. Just keep that little twerp out of trouble as best she could, and her mission would be complete.

Then those blasted pirates came to town and threw a wrench in their plans. She should've known those pirates were a goddamned trouble magnet. Bringing mountain bandits down on their heads. Convincing Luffy to stab himself in the face...and that stupid straw hat. After that, things only ever got worse. Luffy was dragged into the mountains by his grandfather, so of course, Y/N chased after him. But then - for reasons unfathomable to her - Luffy started chasing after Ace. The idiot was constantly risking his life for the sake of some stranger who literally put the two of them through Hell.

Of course, that boy would turn out to be the son of a Demon.

Portgas D Ace, the lost son and only descendant of the legendary Gold Roger. A boy she hadn't put any stock in at first. A feral child she assumed to be some spawn that loud-mouthed bandit lady didn't want. At first, the truth sent Y/N reeling.

Wait, is this what Dragon really meant? She thought. Something Precious. Guard it with your Life.

Suddenly, not was she in the presence of the son of Dragon, but also the son of Roger -- two of the most wanted legacies in all the world. Two lives the World Government would love to snuff out for good. Guard it with your life. Guard it with your life. The words kept cycling, skipping, repeating in her head over and over again. So that's what she did.

Sworn to secrecy, Y/N dedicated herself to ensuring that Luffy and Ace survived to reach their majority. Saving Luffy's sorry butt from those blasted Blue Jam Pirates. Bailing that hot-tempered Ace out of fights he couldn't win. Teaching both boys how to sneak behind grownups undetected. To pick their pockets. To play to their sympathies and get what ya want from them. Garp and the bandits called them all reckless hoodlums. But the only hoodlum who had ever reached back and saved her skin - was Sabo.

He knew the lay of the land better than almost anyone. Could navigate both Grey Terminal and the Inner City even with his eyes closed. And if Ace wouldn't listen to her in a fight (which was often), he would listen to Sabo. And that was good enough for her. He was kinder to Luffy than either Ace or Y/N had the patience for, trying his best to train the boy in his devil fruit even with no powers of his own.

Powerless. She remembered that day. The day that golden boy in blue turned himself into - no, for us. Y/N bit her cheek. He left to save us.

She remembered the night when the fire started. Everything happened at once till all that came to mind was a rush of sensations. The smell of burning flesh. The ring of dying screams. The stampede of footsteps, desperate to escape.

'Luffy! Ace!'

Howling and screaming for her parents in the wreckage, when she couldn't see a thing.

'Mama! Papa!'

Lost in the maze of melting metal and tongues of flame. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. The words on repeat and repeat and repeat - and then he appeared. The source of that never-ending mantra.

Monkey D. Dragon himself.

Y/N reported the situation, just as she'd been trained. It didn't matter that she was straining for breath. The tears blurring her vision didn't matter. Coarse hands smeared the saltwater and grime from her cheeks.

'Head to the ship,' His deep voice instructed. 'I will take it from here.'

Y/N did as she was told. Upon Dragon's ship, her fellow Revolutionaries were awaiting her. All senior agents and officers. She spent all night in the crow's nest of that ship, watching the black plumes of smoke rise into the night. Eyes eagerly searched the dancing firelight for any silhouette she might recognize.

'Luffy, Ace, Mama, Papa - where are you?'

Surely Dragon would find them. Surely Dragon would take them home. Goa was no longer safe if it ever was. Surely Ace and Luffy could be better protected on Baltigo. Surely she and her family could take a break from active duty. Then finally, she could be honest with her friends.

Her parents never came home.

She never saw her friends again.

Upon the first light of morning, the only thing she saw was the smouldering wastes of Grey Terminal. -What was left of it, anyway. The Revolutionaries set to caring for those who escaped the wreckage. The refugees who now, more so than ever, had truly lost everything. All that day, Y/N's fellow agents looked after the wounded, offering them food and drink, even a place among their ranks. All the while, Y/N kept her eyes fixed on what remained of her family's hunting grounds. The jungle was thankfully untouched. The Upper City almost disgustingly so. But she saw no movement amidst the smoke and metal. No familiar silhouettes. No one.

The only things of note were the sounds of cheering and the blasting of a canon. Some sort of fanfare or festival must've been going on on the other side of the city. The sky scraping sprawl of the Nobles' estates kept Y/N from getting a clear view of its source. The Celestial Dragons must've been approaching the southerly port, she thought. She wouldn't have known that if Sabo hadn't drawn a map for her all those months ago.

Sabo... Her chest ached at the thought. She imagined the boy trapped behind a window in one of those pristine white buildings. His whole life was condemned to stay behind layers upon layers of cold stone walls. If Ace and Luffy died in that fire, their brother would never be free.

And what about me? The thought occurred to her as a chill down her spine. What force for good would she be if she knew he was trapped there and did nothing? What kind of friend would she be if she left them all behind? Yet again, Dragon's commission reverberated in her mind. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. --but how?!

Sunlight was already being swallowed by the sea by the time Dragon returned. Y/N could see the black of his cloak wandering between piles of smouldering rubble. But beyond her target's line of sight, something else caught her eye. Out there, floating in on the tide, was a familiar stove pipe hat. The glint of those oversized goggles at their brim was unmistakable.

Sabo!

Without a thought, Y/N leapt from the crows' nest and dove headfirst into that tepid water. The impact stole the breath from her lungs. But she didn't have time to stop. Arms and legs pressed her onwards, chest burning. Through the blur of the salt water, she could see the petite silhouette, those tailored blue clothes stained in smoke and blood.

Blood-?! Y/N paddled faster. The current pushed and pulled her side to side, tearing her off course, but she would not be deterred. Diving deeper, she perched herself on the nearest boulder on the ocean floor. She could feel the pressure of the ocean trying to pull her down. But the shadow cast by Sabo's limp body in the water spurred her on. She pushed off the rock and up towards the surface. Her arms crooked *just so* to catch Sabo under his arms and catapult them into the fresh air.

Foam and shards of wood sprayed around her. Y/N gasped for air. Every muscle burned and ached. Beyond her, a discordant choir of voices were hollering and calling out her name. She could see her leader's black cloak reach the shoreline. His strides paused upon hearing his crew's commotion.

'Dragon-sama!' she cried. 'Here! Right here!'

The Revolutionary turned. Every scrap of seafaring wind squealed in shock at what he saw.

'Help!' Y/N called out. 'He's hurt, please!'

The tides seemed rattled by the change in weather. A breaking wave shoved both Y/N and her unconscious friend forward. Out of her eye, she saw that stove pipe hat getting knocked about in the torrent. Wait-! Grabbing a nearby bar of flotsam wood, Y/N scrambled to hook the hat like a fish on a spear and fling it towards the shoreline. When the next wave hit, she transferred her limp friend's weight from her front to her back. When her feet finally touched the sand, she could race to Dragon's side and snatch Sabo's hat from him.

'We need to get a doctor, sir, right away.'

Dragon blinked. As he scanned the injured Sabo from head to toe, something shifted in his face.

'Y/N, do you know this boy?'

'Yessir,' No reason to lie to her leader. 'He and Luffy were bond brothers.' she glanced at her friend's face. Dripping in saltwater and blood. Everything within her ached. '...All he wanted was to be free.'

Her elder nodded. 'Very well. We can grant him that much.'

And that was the beginning. Or...maybe the end? Y/N never resumed her initial mission in Fuschia Village. When Dragon told her about her parent's fates in the fire, he formally dismissed her from active duty. She tried to press the issue, saying Luffy and Ace still needed her, but to that, he said:

'At least one of them has unlocked Conqueror's Haki. After this, neither should find much danger in the East Blue.'

Your job has been done for you. --He didn't say that last part, but she certainly heard it in his voice. Her mother always said, 'Spies are well versed in the art of subtext'.

Now, years later, come to find out, neither of her East Blue friends had ever been safe. From the moment Ace left Fuschia, he was dogged by an Ensign and then enslaved by a Yonko. Two Yonko, if Y/N's information network was to be believed. She found it hard once she got word that Ace was pursuing an exiled crewmate who'd turned around and murdered another in their ranks. That second Yonkou, Whitebeard - Ace wouldn't have done that if he didn't believe in the old geezer.

Then Luffy was chased to Paradise by an East Blue captain, where he proceeded to dethrone one of the Shichibukai! And several more after that! Hell, Luffy went all the way to Enies Lobby and fucking declared War on the World Government! The first time Y/N read that headline, she swore she nearly had an aneurysm. Meanwhile, Dragon was sitting at the head of the conference table fucking smirking about it. Little did she know things were only gonna get worse from there.

Ace was captured by the Marines.

Ace was sent to the deepest level of Impel Down.

Ace was revealed publicly to be the son of Gold Roger.

Ace was sentenced to be executed at Marineford.

A secret of the highest clearance has been exposed to the world - and Y/N wasn't there to keep him safe. Not like she promised. Not like she'd been tasked to do for as long as she could remember. Her orders were to 'guard them with your life'. ...And she hadn't done it.

The moment she heard the news of Ace's arrest, she raced to Dragon's office immediately. Requested reconnaissance, search and rescue, and any team fast enough to get him out of Impel Down before Luffy decided to pull a stupid and do it himself. Because he would. She knew he would. Because she still knew him, even after all these years.

Being a part of the Revolutionary Army, agents were forbidden from contacting anyone outside their trusted communications channels. Even passing on a message through her own communication network was considered a breach of conduct. Ace and Luffy probably didn't even know she was alive, or that Sabo was alive. But then again...Sabo didn't even know Ace and Luffy existed.

'Sir, if we don't act first, your son is gonna put himself in danger,' She remembered arguing with her leader. Something she never would've dared to do as a child. 'If he dies trying to break Roger's son out of Impel Down, then -'

'You are certain that will be his next course of action?'

'Of course, sir, Luffy and Ace are bond brothers. Same as he and Sabo. Luffy would drop everything to save his Naka-'

'Evidence serves to the contrary.'

'Are you kidding me?!' Dragon threw her a stern look. Y/N winced. 'A-all due respect, sir, but the whole reason Enies Lobby happened is because Luffy was looking to rescue a crewmate.'

'A crewmate who also happens to be a valuable asset,' Dragon noted. 'The last scholar of Ohara capable of reading the Poneglyphs.'

'That's not why he did it, and you know it.'

'Do I?'

You would, if you any spent time with your son. Y/N knew better than to say that retort out loud. Instead, she said: 'Sir, the first orders you ever gave me were to protect the secrets you'd hidden on Goa. Ace may no longer be a secret, but if we don't act, Luffy's cover will be blown, too.'

'Portgas D Ace has nothing to do with your orders.' Dragon said sternly. 'Your request is denied.'

'But Sir-!'

'Our mission is to free the people. Not one man,' The man's eyes were sharp as flint and harder than bedrock. 'Your request is denied, Y/N. Let. It. Go."

And he was right. Y/N hated to say it, or even to think it, if only to herself. But Dragon was right. The resources required to ensure success, either infiltrating Impel Down or foiling his transport to Marineford, would likely ruin their chances completely. If they were to fail, their forces would be wiped out. Their plans for the Reverie would be compromised. And the Revolution could not afford that...not even for the sake of her friend.

The Army's mission was to free the people. Not one man. Dragon was right. She knew. He told her to let it go, and she tried. Tried to fight other battles and go on other missions with Koala and Hack, and Sabo. -But she was off her game. Getting knocked by blades and bullets, she should've been able to dodge. Stealing more files from outposts than they'd actually need. Striking too hard and accidentally killing a few enemy soldiers. Something Hack most definitely disapproved of. Koala pinched her cheeks and tugged on her ears. Tying bandages too tight and making new bruises when Y/N scrambled for excuses. Hack even noted how he sensed her Chakras were out of balance or something.

But the worst part of it was Sabo. At team meetings, he would keep sneaking glances at her. Even when she stood on his left side, where he couldn't see, and his scar left no sign of any eyebrows furrowing in concern - she could still sense it from him. It was in the way he stood close enough to brush her shoulders in the hallway. Or the way he'd play with her fingers under the table. It had started out as a habit to help him sit still during class when they were little. But now, she knew it was a reassuring gesture. Something he did to reassure himself they were both okay. - Which meant he was picking up on the fact that she was not, in fact, okay. And that was a problem.

What she didn't expect what just how big of a problem it would grow to become.

It happened when she was going to Dragon's office, having just gussied up the courage to argue with him about this whole Ace debacle (again). She'd just bypassed Sabo and Koala in the officer's lobby, she caught hold of the whispers in the halls.

'Hey, check it out, the News Coo just arrived,'

'Eh, Hack-san, you better take a look at this,'

'Hm? New on the war, I presume.'

'Yea. It's finally over. The only reported casualties were Whitebeard, the Emporer, and -' Y/N's stomach twisted. '-Fire Fist Ace.'

Every drop of lifeblood in her body immediatley sank to the floor. Y/N's knees shook. The world spun around her. She couldn't think, could barely breathe. Y/N scrambled to clutch the nearest wall for support to keep her upright.

Ace, Ace, no- She gasped. Her eyes burned. Like she was drowning in salt water all over again. the corridor blurred around her. Only she wasn't in a hallway anymore. She was looking up from the bottom of the ocean as someone else's corpse floated above her. Corpses. Y/N clasped a hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her sobs. Ace, Luffy - oh, Luffy....

The headline staring her in the face was more than proof enough. That freckled face. That mane of tangled hair. That wicked smirk pressed ear to ear on the front page of the News Coo - that was him.

That's when she heard it.

A voice screamed - a howling cry of anguish and agony. Y/N's heart seized in her chest.

Sabo.

That's when it all went to shit.

***

Ahhh! This got way out of hand. I am so sorry, my dear but I'm afraid the epic conclusion to this swelling saga has become its own 3rd part. Please forgive my tardiness. I hope when this is all complete, you will find this story well worth the wait.

All the best,

Rose

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2023 Master List Part 2: Fic

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of this fest,

The 5th installment of LCDrarry has come to an end, and I'd like to thank you all for taking part in this fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for everybody!

Fests would not exist without their participants or readers! You're all amazing! And I'm so happy that you chose this fest in the vast and wonderful offerings of HP and Drarry events.

You can find out under the cut who created what ;D

~Your LCDrarry Mod Tami (@celilasart)

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings. Thank you! PPS: As always, reblogs are very much appreciated! PPPS: If you're interested in fest statistics, have a look at the Fest Wrap-Up Post. PPPPS: You can find all the lovely podfics and art works in the 1st part of our LCDrarry 2023 Master List.

Enjoy!

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Fic and Art

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Brighton

Prompt: "San Junipero" (episode) from "Black Mirror", 2016 Author: Sniper_Jade Word Count: 24,156 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: BDSM Scene, Shibari, Voyeurism, Alcohol

Summary: Harry Potter finds Draco Malfoy somewhere he never would have expected. It leads him to question everything he has ever thought about himself and his life in the hopes for something better. Something that he never knew he wanted and now can’t seem to live without.

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The Flame Between Us

Prompt: “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”, 2022, Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre Author: AvenueofESC Artist: Bubblegumhead Word Count: 33,060 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: marriage of convenience, open marriage, consensual infidelity, D/s undertones, terminal illness, blood curse, implied mpreg, canonical character death, angst with a happy ending

Summary: The rumoured engagement of one Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy and Lady Astoria Sofia Greengrass has been the talk of Wizarding Society. My dear reader, this author can confirm that the rumours are true.

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This Life Now

Prompt: "Sweet Home Alabama", 2002, Andy Tennant Author: palendrome Artist: S3anchaidh Word Count: 38,295 words Art Medium: Digital Rating: Mature Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Divorce, Alcohol, Minor Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & OMC Friendship, Draco is involved with/engaged to Blaise while separated from but still legally married to Harry

Summary: This close up, Draco can see the differences that have occurred over the years. Harry's hair is longer, although it's as unruly as ever; his forearms are well-muscled and decorated with ink; and there are small lines by his eyes that look like they would crinkle if he were smiling. Which, at this moment, he most definitely is not. He looks like he's worn the same clothes for three days and just rolled out of bed, yet Harry's so unfairly gorgeous it makes Draco's heart ache. "What do you want, Draco?" Harry asks, his voice resigned. The question snaps Draco out of his reverie. "A divorce," he proclaims as he opens his bag.

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Fic

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Do I Know You?

Prompt: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", 1997, Episode "Tabula Rasa" Author: use_it_well Word Count: 13,488 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Memory Loss, Light Dom/Sub

Summary: Harry knew better than most just how many dangerous items one could come across at Hogwarts.

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Of Stars in Infinite Universes

Prompt: "Everything Everywhere All At Once", 2022, Dan Kwan & Daniel Scheinert Author: lily_winterwood Word Count: 21,792 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Suicide ideation, passive-aggressive homophobia (aka not explicit hatred, just concern-trolling about ~continuing the family line~), mild body horror

Summary: Harry Potter is asked to find a missing Draco Malfoy. (Or: Draco Malfoy is hiding from an omniversal entity. In searching for him through their other lifetimes together, Harry Potter begins to wonder what his former archenemy truly means to him.) (An Everything Everywhere All At Once AU.)

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see the steeple (trace to the spire)

Prompt: "God's own country", 2017, Francis Lee Author: Olena Word Count: 33,857 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Harry’s sure about it being Draco’s fault, just like he’s been sure of any other part of his life. Harry wants to spend a week assisting with the birth of a rare magical creature. He doesn’t want to spend a week at Malfoy Manor assisting Draco with said birth. It’s been seven years since Draco was sentenced to house arrest without magic and now he’s running a farm. A week isn’t a long time, but Harry finds himself distracted by this Draco who is so different from the one he used to know.

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The Piano

Prompt: "The Piano", 1993, Jane Campion Author: shushu_yaoi_lj Word Count: 37,585 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: angst with a happy ending, elective mute Draco, PTSD, mention of canonical child neglect, mpreg

Summary: He arrives on a boat during a particularly stormy day. Harry knew Astoria Greengrass had sent for a husband, someone to keep her company on the particularly dreary and dark winter days on this remote island. Harry didn’t know who it was she had arranged to be sent here. All he knew was that the weather was horrid today, and the Portkeys had never properly worked in this remote corner of the North Sea. The island was special, its magic working in odd and surprising ways. The last person Harry expects to find on the beach is Draco Malfoy.

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Peep Show

Prompt: "Friends", 1994, TV Series Author: kbrick Length: 10,120 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Auror trainees Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are maybe-possibly-sort-of friends. When Harry moves into the building next to Draco's, they become neighbors, too. Actually, Harry can see directly into Draco's flat from his window. And as it turns out, Draco gets up to some interesting things at night.

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Let it in

Prompt: "Cherry Magic! Thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?!", TV Series/Show Author: deliciousblizzardshark Word Count: 11,654 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: "Thirty, huh?" Pansy asked. “My cousin told me that Japan there’s this urban legend called ‘cherry magic’. It’s basically that if you turn thirty without, you know, popping your cherry, you get magical powers.” “Pans, I don’t know how to put this to you, but we already have magical powers,” Draco said. Pansy laughed. “No, you dolt. New ones. Apparently the legend goes that you become a mind reader.” Draco shivered. “Sounds awful.” “Anyway, it won’t happen to you, will it?” she asked. Draco shifted a little uncomfortably. “Of course it won’t,” he said. “Because you just said it’s an urban legend.” “I meant, it won’t happen to you because you’re not a virgin.” Draco laughed.

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Harry Potter vs the World

Prompt: "Scott Pilgrim", 2010, Edgar Wright Author: zeddmarker Word Count: 13,943 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Cheating/Infidelity, Relationship between a 21 year old and a 17 year old (not endgame)

Summary: A year after the worst breakup of his life, some could argue that Harry is still struggling—dating his best friend's ex-girlfriend's sister. But when Draco Malfoy appears in a dream and then corporeally in front of him, Harry's life is turned upside down. The only thing standing in between Harry and the literal man of his dreams are seven people out to destroy him.

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Hole to Feed

Prompt: "The Menu", 2022, Mark Mylod Author: newskyillusion Word Count: 34,436 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Self-Harm, Blood and Injury, Fiendfyre, Explicit Sex

Summary: Draco tunes them all out, watching as they fly through the water, when familiarity on his glass catches his eyes. The writing – because it’s writing, he realises, when he brings the glass closer – is barely there, blink and you'd miss it. But he would never miss it: the writing is in his dreams, under his fingernails, in his blood. It’s runes. OR The Malfoy-Black Foundation is celebrating its 25th anniversary. But why does the whole staff consist of Hogwarts graduates? And why does Chef Evans seem familiar? Harry Potter meets The Menu (2022)

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Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free)

Prompt: "In Your Eyes", 2014, Brin Hill Author: Shewhxmustnxtbenamed Word Count: 134,034 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Threesome, vouyerism, minor character death

Summary: Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived-- the trouble is that they don't know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend-- even if that means bartering with his own life.

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The Breakfast Club

Prompt: "The Breakfast Club", 1985, John Hughes Author: peachpety Length: 7,827 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco Malfoy is forced to endure a Saturday detention with four other students, including the Golden Bad Boy himself, Harry Potter. Over the course of the day, and under the watchful eye of Filch, the seemingly disparate group form a budding alliance and discovers that they have a great deal more in common than they thought. And Draco discovers that sometimes, he can not only get what he needs, but he just might also get what he wants.

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The Rifts that Reveal Us

Prompt: "The Notebook", 2004, Nick Cassvettes Author: bluesyquill Word Count: 8,539 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Harry wrote to him. For 365 days. Today, Draco visits him. But learning why Draco didn't write back is just the beginning.

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A Different Kind Of Attention

Prompt: “Yuri on Ice!”, 2016, TV Series/Show Author: Clueless_Pigeons Word Count: 10,706 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Alcohol Use, Drunkenness, Off-screen Pet Loss

Summary: Last year's Grand Prix Final hadn't been easy for Harry. And France's top skater, Draco Malfoy, hadn't made it any easier. This year, however, Harry is determined. He wants that gold medal! But things don't ever go to plan if it comes to Harry James Potter, do they?

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Deep Dive

Prompt: "Heartstopper", 2022, TV Show Author: chxrlieweaslxy Word Count: 13,448 words Rating: General audiences Warnings: None

Summary: When fourteen-year-old Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for his fourth year, he learns that the school will be hosting the first-ever European Wizarding Student Cup. He is excited for a year of just Quidditch, without Voldemort or any mortal danger. But it doesn’t take long before an unexpected connection with a competitor complicates what was meant to be a worry-free year.

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I Couldn't Love You More

Prompt: "P.S. I Love You", 2007, Richard LaGravenese Author: Ladderofyears Word Count: 73,706 words Rating: Mature Warnings: MCD, grief, mourning, AU- No Voldemort, drinking alcohol, brain tumor, five stages of grief, dead dove don't eat, sex toys, sad moments, unrequited love (not Draco), Draco shares brief kiss with another man, bars and pubs, Harry is dead before the fic begins, he doesn't come back to life.

Summary: Their plan had been a simple one: to stay together for the rest of their lives. When Harry and Draco met, their attraction was instantaneous. They couldn't be without each other and eloped to marry as soon as they could. They wore each other's clothes. Finished each other's sentences. They were going to be together until they were old and grey. None of their friends could imagine one without the other. But, on Valentine's Day, 2010, Harry died. Draco was left devastated. The only light in the darkness is ten letters that Harry has left, labelled with the remaining months of the year. As the letters are opened, Harry shows Draco that life goes on and that he is much stronger than he ever knew. With a lot of help from his friends. Draco realises that, while his life might be very different from what he'd planned, it can still be special.

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0 + 0 = 1

Prompt: "Taskmaster", 2015, TV Show Author: Albuss Word Count: 2,895 words Rating: General audiences Warnings: None

Summary: Harry and Draco go on Taskmaster. That's it. That's the plot.

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A Boesky, A Jim Brown, and the biggest Leon Spinks ever.

Prompt: "Ocean's Eleven", 2001, Steven Soderbergh Author: tsundanire Word Count: 12,030 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Harry and his group of friends formulate a rather ambitious plan to re-acquire a rare diamond from the clutches of an old enemy—Theo Nott. Along the way, he's hoping to catch the attention of his ex—Draco Malfoy—who is now dating Theo. “What have you heard?” Harry half-whispered. “Rumours are going around that it’s the Starlight Diamond.” The guest half-whispered in reply, excitement practically vibrating out of the man’s pores. “Starlight Diamond?” He feigned ignorance, flicking his glance between the guest and Ginny. “Oh, right, I’m so sorry Mr. Potter. I often forget you didn’t grow up in our world.” Harry twitched, fist clenched. In another life, he probably would have decked the guy for being a prick, but that was the kind of person this sort of event attracted. The old money and the nouveau riche, both looking to flaunt their means and gossip.

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Welcome to Kreb

Prompt: “How to Train Your Dragon”, 2010, Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois Author: Nelween Word Count: 24,037 words Rating: Mature Warnings: injuries, broken bones, vomiting, killing

Summary: Harry had always been obsessed with dragons. It was one of the reason he had studied them. And when the opportunity came to study draconic creatures in the wild on a deserted magical island with his mentor Charlie Weasley and his friend Neville Longbottom, why wouldn't he take it? If only he knew what he would encounter on his journey...

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The Decision

Prompt: “Fleabag”, 2019, TV Series Author: MurderGrandma Word Count: 5,369 words Rating: Mature Warnings: transphobic slur but don't worry she gets revenge, miscarriage, general horrible person

Summary: Love is awful. Draco Malfoy is dreading helping Pansy Parkinson plan her wedding. That's something horrible people dread, and perhaps that makes her a horrible person. She's determined to behave, until old connections and an increasingly surreal and intolerable dinner party get the better of her.

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The Dying of the Light

Prompt: “Dead Like Me”, 2003, TV Series Author: camomiletea Word Count: 20,078 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Death themes, Implied Infidelity (not between Harry/Draco), Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: “Life sucks, and then you die… And then it still sucks.” – Georgia Lass, Dead Like Me. The biggest thank you to our fabulous Mods for LCDrarry 2023! This community has been an absolute joy to be a part of and I couldn’t recommend it enough to others. And to my beta (R) who (once again) aided my whale call for assistance in the very final stages of submission. This fic would be a mess without you. You're the absolute best. x

Summary: Everyone dies. That’s just the way it is. And then there are the unfortunate few who get promoted.

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Palm Springs

Prompt: "Palm Springs", 2020, Max Barbakow Author: Kittycargo Word Count: 20,137 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Time Loop, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Harry collapsed into the chair next to him. “What is happening?” “One of those infinite time loop situations.” “What?!” “You know. Yesterday is today. Today is today, tomorrow is today.” “But how do I stop it? I don’t want tomorrow to be today. I want tomorrow to be tomorrow!” “Yeah, that’s understandable.” Malfoy said calmly. “Do you like tacos?”

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Double Trouble

Prompt: "Alias", 2001-2006, TV Series Author: multiverse_of_fanfic Word Count: 57,440 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: possible tw for torture (non-graphic incarcerous)

Summary: Four years after the War, Draco is stuck in a dead-end job, paper-pushing his life away. Until one day, after a security breach in the Ministry, he receives an offer he can’t refuse. Thrown back into a world he thought he’d left behind, Draco must wrestle with his Death Eater past as well as his inconvenient — and forbidden — feelings for an annoyingly level-headed Harry Potter. Will he manage to come out unscathed like he has most of his life, or will it all come crashing down?

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An Angel, A Demon, and The End of The World

Prompt: “Good Omens”, 2019, TV Series Author: DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes Word Count: 3,844 words Rating: Teen and up Audiences Warnings: Religious imagery and references

Summary: Armageddon has come to Earth and enemies Demon Harry and Angel Draco are forced to come together to figure out how to halt it. They had become rather fond of Earth in all their years upon it, and don't wish it a tragic end. Plus, oh dear, the Antichrist has gone missing.

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Champions of Karlstad

Prompt: "Borg v McEnroe", 2017, Janus Metz Author: Dexiha Word Count: 18,310 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: mention of blood, injuries and ice hockey-typcial in-game violence

Summary: Draco signs a contract with Färjestad BK, one of the top ice hockey clubs in Sweden. Draco's long-time rival, Harry Potter, refuses to play with Draco, but still chooses to follow him to Sweden, signing with another Swedish club. Is screwing with Draco's life all that Potter really cares about, or is there some other intent behind his annoying behaviour?

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A Mist That Appears (For a Little Time)

Prompt: "Sweet November", 2001, Pat O'Connor Author: DodgerKedavra Word Count: 22,490 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: This is a sickfic with mild blood and sickness!

Summary: “Give me November, and I’ll teach you to be happy. There’s only one condition. You must swear on your magic that you won’t fall in love with me.” Harry’s so tired. His whole body hurts. If Malfoy can teach him how to be happy, then... “Okay.” Harry is working himself to death. Draco only has November to help him. Falling in love is strictly against the rules.

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You've Got Owl Post

Prompt: "You've Got Mail", 1998, Nora Ephron Author: slyth_princess Word Count: 50,407 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Questionable Use of Canon

Summary: After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You've Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

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You can find all the lovely podfics and art in the 1st part of our LCDrarry 2023 Master List.

As always, reblogs here on tumblr are very much appreciated to promote all the wonderful works of LCDrarry. But of course, please also shower our creators with comments and kudos on AO3 ;D Thank you! Read you next year ;)

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 6, "Dexterity Check"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Astarion faces the party with the revelation that he’s a vampire. Áine comes to his aid. Astarion gives Áine a lesson in lockpicking. Áine’s past skill set comes to light while helping to save the group from some gnolls and Wyll confronts her about her claimed occupation. Astarion realizes with this new side of Áine coming to the forefront, he has some competition brewing among their companions.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence and gore; blood; angst; suggestive descriptions and dialogue; Astarion being a cheeky shit; big sexual tension; potentially piss-poor description of picking a lock (fun fact, I know how to lockpick in practice, but I’ve never had to describe it); moments of mild fluff; lightly proofread

Word Count: 5.5k

Listening to: River - Bishop Briggs

Áine stirred the next morning with a bit of brain fog and a throbbing in her neck. She groaned and curled deeper into the pillows she’d padded her bedroll with. Even through slitted eyes, she could see the light infiltrating her tent through its sweeping mauve canvas walls and more directly through a sliver between the tent flaps. 

She sighed and accepted that she needed to get up so they could keep moving, especially if they were going to make it through the gnoll-torn territory they’d been able to see across the way and also find somewhere safe to camp by nightfall. Áine stood up on slightly shaky legs and walked to the wooden trunk with her clothes, changing into the light armor she wore on the road and lacing the ties as she ducked through the tent door.

When she exited her tent and straightened back up, she found herself right in front of Astarion.

“Oh, good morning,” he said, seeming uncharacteristically startled.

Áine frowned. Either he was doing a bit or he’d been distracted enough by something else to not have heard her get up and move around while she dressed. She hadn’t exactly been quiet. “Tavern’s closed while I replenish stock,” she said, making a joke about how she felt after last night, trying to keep it light for both of them.

He scowled, but it held an edge of…embarrassment? “The sole reason I approach you henceforth isn’t just going to be because I’m thirsty,” he said sharply. It would be difficult for him to resist finding another occasion to take her blood in the future though—she was sinfully delicious and the pure euphoria that had either come from a thinking creature’s blood or just breaking Cazador’s rule in general was addictive. “I just—here.” 

He thrust his hands out toward her and Áine realized belatedly that he was standing there holding something. Cradled in his palms were the water canteen from her bag, which she’d forgotten outside in her fatigue the night before, and a bowl containing raspberries and a sliced apple. 

Áine’s face flushed as she took the offerings from his hands, her fingers brushing his in passing. “Thank you,” she said, a little overwhelmed by her emotional reaction to the gift of water and a bit of fruit but she knew it was the thoughtfulness that touched her so deeply. She smiled at him and instinctively took a step closer to hug him before remembering that he wasn’t one for that sort of thing. As if to confirm her recollection, she saw him tense. “Sorry, sorry, I remember, don’t worry.”

Astarion relaxed a little but felt a twinge of something unfamiliar, at least regarding his usual reactions to physical touch that he didn’t initiate himself, when she stepped back again. Was it disappointment? Because she didn’t hug him or do whatever she’d almost done? 

“Did you cut this apple up, yourself?” Áine asked suddenly, breaking the surface of his brooding.

Caught off guard and flustered, Astarion just mumbled for her to hush as he started to stalk away, but when he turned around, he unexpectedly came face-to-face with everyone else in the camp.

“Áine, what happened to your neck?” Gale asked, but his hard tone indicated that he already knew and was just initiating the conversation.

Áine realized what was going on and shelved her silly little vision of Astarion sitting on his throw pillows and cutting up an apple for her with his dagger and the silly little sensation it caused in her stomach.

Astarion tensed. “I can at least be grateful to each of you for leaving the torches and pitchforks in your tents,” he said, fidgeting anxiously with his cuffs. 

“Chk. There is yet time,” Lae’zel pointed out.  

“So is this the truth of it?” Shadowheart asked. “Do we have a vampire in our traveling party?”

Astarion checked the cleric’s hands for a stake before he answered. “Alas, you do.”

Shadowheart’s gaze flickered to Áine, roaming between the bitemarks on her neck and the little bit of breakfast she held in her hands. “Are you alright?”

Áine nodded. “I’m fine,” she said. 

“Fine?” Wyll exclaimed, looking between them. “Áine, he’s a vampire and he fed on you!” 

Áine’s eyes caught on Wyll’s hand, now resting a bit too close to his rapier hilt for her liking. When her eyes met his again, her gaze was cooler and she took one step forward to shoulder her way around Astarion, standing between him and the rest of the party now. He didn’t move from standing directly behind her and she noted subconsciously why, in all the times he’d put himself physically close to her, he’d kept his chest at a distance—not a single beat from the heart against her back. The one time she could recall that this had not been the case was on the beach when he’d tackled her out of the way of the descending harpy, but her own heart had been too thunderous for her to notice that his was silent.

Astarion’s wary gaze had moved from their companions, wondering which would move to strike him first, down to Áine when she moved in front of him. In stark contrast to what she was currently experiencing, he felt her warmth and her heartbeat reverberate through his hollow chest. It was steady and strong, hardly elevated in the slightest. Once again, her confidence grounded him in his anxiety. 

“And you’re defending him,” Wyll added incredulously. “Don’t you understand? He attacked you! He’s a monster!”

That cut Astarion a little more deeply than expected, but he didn’t show it. In front of him, he heard Áine say without hesitation, “He fed on me because I let him.”

Wyll was shaken by this and Astarion could only feel gratitude toward Áine that she’d opted to completely skip over the part where he’d opted out of asking permission and likely would’ve proceeded had she not awakened. 

“Why would you let a vampire put its fangs in you?” their resident monster hunter asked.

“For the same reason I’d give Gale magical artifacts to soothe his condition,” Áine said. “For the same reason I would help you if and when you needed it. We’re a team. And I’ll not tolerate anything less.”

Wyll was taken aback. Gale seemed to be in deep thought, eying Astarion with consideration. Shadowheart was the first to speak and her words shocked Astarion. “I suppose that does explain the pallor,” she said in a gentle jab before more seriously adding, “Given our group’s nature, I don’t see much harm. We’re each monsters in the making after all.”

Lae’zel hummed in agreement. “So be it,” she said simply. “But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him.”

Astarion relaxed a bit—the three he’d feared retaliation from the most were on his side, or at least accepting of his presence. He’d been right to choose Áine to warm up to, he decided as he watched the group slowly fold beneath her ruling. At this rate, he wouldn’t even have to bed her to secure her loyalty.

There was that tinge of disappointment again.

“For the record, Astarion,” Gale said, seeming to be fighting a smirk. “I taste absolutely awful.”

Astarion smirked back and then all eyes fell to Wyll, who looked aghast at how the tables had turned. Cautiously, Astarion suggested, “She’s not wrong… We’re bound together. No matter what comes.”

Gale gave him a withering look. “You say all the right words, but I’m not so sure you mean all the right things.” Shit. Laid it on too thick. “Still, I will respect the decision that was made.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Wyll finally gave a defeated sigh. “Hunting with vampires…,” he mused. “Never thought I’d see the day. Very well, but I will be keeping an eye on you. And no wisecracks about having us for supper!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he wondered sourly, receiving one of Áine’s elbows into his ribs.  

“Then it’s settled,” Áine said, offering her companions a grateful smile. “Lovely. Let’s pack up and see where the road takes us today. Maybe the gnolls have cleared off.”

Except for a small sideglance from Wyll, the group did as requested and cleared off to get packed up. Because they were standing so close together, Astarion felt the faint tension that left Áine’s frame when she wasn’t met with further pushback. 

His brows rose when she inclined her head back to look up at him, the crown of her head lightly bumping his sternum. “So you did cut this up yourself, then?” He tsked at her and stepped away, missing her warmth immediately and only superficially perturbed when she giggled at the effect her teasing had. “I’m sorry, it’s very sweet and appreciated,” Áine said, which was somehow worse than her just laughing at him. The flip his dead heart gave was alien and unwelcome. “I do need to know how we’ll be feeding you though from now on.”

“No innocents,” Astarion sighed. “You have my word. Only people we’re going to kill anyway because what’s the harm in that? I can fight with all my weapons now that you and the others know. Teeth included.” He flashed his fangs at her and her gaze dropped from his eyes to his Cheshire smile, a faint shiver going up her spine when she remembered that those had been buried in her neck just hours ago.

Áine nodded. “Makes complete sense to me,” she said, not having any moral quandaries with him feeding on the enemies they were going to fell in battle anyway. “For the record, I’m not opposed to helping you again in a pinch, just don’t sneak up on me next time.”

“That is more than reasonable,” he said, but she did see the way his eyes lit up with hunger when she suggested that she, herself, wasn’t off the table forever and all time. Áine wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or flattered, so she opted for both. “No more unexpected visits. I’ll leave it to you to decide when we next dine together.”

She wrinkled her nose at his choice of words but left it at that. “Good. I’m assuming you’re feeling better after last night then? You seem to be more…happy, as you put it.”

Astarion nodded, pulling in a deep breath. “I genuinely do feel better. Drinking from thinking creatures is a wholly different experience. And, truth be told…you were my first,” he admitted, his tone adding a twist of innuendo to the words. Áine felt fairly certain that it was fully intentional on his part. “Before you, it was animals in these woods, and then before that…well, whatever rats and bugs Cazador allowed me.”

It was the first time he’d spoken the name aloud to Áine. The first time he’d spoken it at all since the Nautiloid sprung him from the bastard’s clutches. But she’d been inside his mind last night, even briefly. He knew she’d at least seen him. 

Confirming his suspicion, Áine’s features darkened and she asked, “Was that who… You know, it’s not my place to ask. Tell me as much or as little as you want, but I don’t even like that I accidentally saw as much as I did.”

“Because it disconcerted you?” Astarion guessed, immediately assuming that she was upset about the visions she’d been subjected to being in her mind at all. Imagine being subjected to them in real-time over and over again, he thought caustically.

“Because it’s not my business unless you make it my business,” Áine said. That put him at a bit of a loss. “But whatever that was…whoever he was…seemed horrible. And I’m sorry.”

Astarion scoffed. “What are you sorry for?” he asked with a sneer Áine immediately saw through. “No, don’t answer that. I am not in the market for pity, but these tadpoles’ little intervention does work in the spirit of surfacing what we may be up against.”

Áine frowned. “You think you’re being hunted?”

“More than likely not,” Astarion said. “At least not outside of the city. But these mind flayers aren’t the only ones spinning a web for us. And they’re hardly the only threat out there.”

Áine gave a soft sigh that bordered on a humorless laugh. “I know. But it’s never a bad reminder, I suppose,” she allowed.

“Now drink. Eat. You look lightheaded,” Astarion muttered as he left to gather his things.

“Thanks,” Áine grumbled, the single word steeped in sarcasm. Astarion smirked to himself, only a few paces away when he heard her voice again. “One thing.”

“One more thing, you mean?” he asked, stopping and looking over his shoulder at her.

Áine gave him a scolding look. “When the parasites did whatever they did, did you see anything?”

“I saw what you saw, unfortunately,” Astarion said. 

“I meant of mine,” Áine clarified.

A younger Áine flashed through his mind, her white locks cropped short and her supple body clad in armor as she stood before a mirror and adjusted a blade on her back. To the Áine before him, he said, “No.”

She nodded once and turned away, nibbling on an apple slice while she got her bag ready for the road. After having one slice of fruit, Áine’s stomach recognized she was hungry and she worked through the rest just as quickly, sipping from her canteen as well. It was almost funny how endearing she’d found his presentation of the fruit and water, especially considering that he was doing it purely because he was the one who’d caused her wooziness. Still though, she found it thoughtful and, loath as she was to admit it given the circumstances, quite cute.

Absently, she’d started humming while packing her bag and, upon slinging it over her shoulders and straightening up, realized she had an audience. Áine’s eyes found Gale’s as he lingered nearby with Shadowheart and Wyll, Astarion soon to join them while Lae’zel paced a bit ahead near the road beyond the trees. A bit smug, Gale said, “You know, simply part your lips doing that and you’re singing in front of us. Not so hard, hm?”

Perhaps Gale had meant to give her a whirlwind epiphany from that nugget of advice, but he swiftly realized he wouldn’t be achieving that when he took in the cool look she gave him and stopped her humming instead. Finding that look mirrored on Shadowheart and Astarion’s faces as well, the wizard exclaimed, “What?!”

“She’s surely cured of her nerves after that,” Shadowheart quipped lightly as the group moved to join an impatient Lae’zel at the roadside. “So, Astarion, how is it you’re able to be out in the sunlight with us, given your condition?”

Astarion replied, “I’m honestly unsure. It must be the parasite, although I know not why. Perhaps for the same reasons we’ve all not transformed—someone or something wants us all alive. They’re changing the rules.”

“I wish I’d managed as well as you with my own parasitic influence,” Gale sighed. “Instead it feels like I’ve lost the breadth of my ability while my condition worsens by the day.”

“Did that artifact not put you to rights?” Áine asked, frowning as she looked back at Gale. 

“It did, but something still feels a bit off,” he hastened to reassure her while remaining transparent. “It could very well be simple fatigue if I’m honest. I sometimes attribute too much of my bad days to a symptom list.”

“We’ll keep looking for trinkets on the road to hold you over,” Shadowheart said with ease. “No chance you’ll tell us a bit more about what this condition actually is?”

“Let a wizard have his secrets,” Gale said, his tone good-natured with a sliver of something creeping toward anxiety imperceptibly beneath the surface. “All in due time.”

“Cutting into our treasure stash, I think, pares down some of the standard privacy privileges,” Astarion commented.

“Well, cutting into our leader does the same,” Gale suggested likewise.

“I already apologized and told the—literally—bloody truth,” Astarion groused. “What more do you want?”

“That’s not funny,” Gale said curtly.

“It was a little funny,” Shadowheart disagreed with a smirk.

“I thought you liked puns, Gale,” Áine pointed out with a similar expression to Shadowheart’s.

“When they don’t come back to bite me, sure,” Gale said, only realizing what he’d said in full when he had several sets of eyes on him, waiting for him to notice. “Oh, come on, that’s not what I meant!” As much as he protested, however, he finally cracked a smile.

Along the less bloodied path forking from the other side of the bridge were all manners of abandoned crates, barrels, and chests, including a pale blue cart that perhaps held even further spoils. The freshness of the abandoned wares was both worrisome and a godsend, and the group set to work picking through everything for useful supplies.

Áine had wandered further down the line of crates, finding a couple of chests toppled against each other at the end of the line. She set them both back upright, listening to the items shift inside and bringing a faint smile of anticipation to her face. The lock on one had busted open on impact and she started there, unlatching the chest and lifting the lid to peer inside. Given its size, she hadn’t expected anything substantial, but she did find a pouch of gold inside and some personal effects that included a Selunite rite, an emerald, a simple burnished necklace, and a half-used spool of gold thread.

She pocketed the gold and the gem, forgoing the necklace and the rite. Áine plucked the spool from the chest and thought back to Astarion’s cuff, how he’d evaluated it by the fire the other night and found it required some repair. She wasn’t sure if he had the means to do it already, but figured it couldn’t hurt to give it to him just in case. Even if he used it another time or gave her a hard time about bequeathing her find to him, she could at least make the effort.

Áine shifted the looted chest aside after pocketing the spool of thread, pulling the other toward her and trying to lift the lid just to find that this one’s lock had survived the crash. She sighed and glanced over her shoulder to see if Astarion was nearby. When she saw he was, she called his name to get his attention. “There’s a lock over here I could use your assistance with,” Áine added, standing up and starting to back away to give him room to work. 

As she was brushing the dust off her hands, she felt him approach only to place the leather-wrapped picking tools in her already-raised hands. Áine looked down at the kit and then at him with some measure of horror that made him chuckle. “You asked me if I would teach you,” Astarion pointed out as he nodded toward the chest. “Welcome to Lockpicking 101.”

“I don’t know if I should, what if I break them?” Áine fretted even as he nudged her back toward the chest. “We only have a couple of kits left, don’t we?”

“They’re not terribly hard to come by,” Astarion said. “Plenty of forgetful or deceased criminals in these parts to inherit them from. Besides that, this one looks relatively straightforward.”

“You can tell that from up here?” Áine asked.

“Well, sure,” Astarion said, once more as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Áine grimaced at the chest, suddenly feeling as if it were a foe itself now that she was under (purely self-inflicted) pressure. “But are you sure you—”

She turned her face back to him just to end up with one cool fingertip against her lips, effectively shocking her into silence. Astarion’s vibrant red eyes bore into hers, his face nearly close enough that they could’ve touched foreheads if she’d leaned in. Bold of him after she’d developed a track record of headbutting him, she thought to try and shoo away the butterflies that hit her stomach. 

“I will help you,” he murmured, nothing but confidence in his quiet tone. Briefly, before he removed his hand, his gaze fell to her lips and lingered for one painstaking moment. When he met her eyes again and placed his hand back at his side, Áine wondered if it could be possible or legal to feel so kissed without having been physically kissed. Astarion was proving dangerous, and primarily to her in ways he’d not voiced.

Áine remembered to breathe and cleared her throat as she looked down at the chest, remembering what they were discussing with some difficulty. How had he scrambled her mind so effectively with just a look and a light touch? This was embarrassing, and just a plain weakness to boot. She’d have to work on that—nothing good, in her experience, came from being so quickly and easily swayed. Maybe some power of suggestion came with being a vampire. Surely that was it.

She knelt and spread the kit open, her hesitant hands selecting the tools she’d seen him choose before, although when she eyed the lock she wasn’t so sure they were the right size. “You may want to start with something smaller on this one,” he said, confirming her concerns.

“Oh, you mean the ones that look even more breakable. Good, good,” she mused, hearing a deep chuckle behind her as she selected smaller tools from the leather.

“Now, you have your tools in the correct hands, so you’re halfway there,” Astarion said. “The one you have in your left hand will sit against the tumblers while you move the other deeper into the keyhole. If you feel an inordinate amount of tension, just ease your grip because it’s probably not aligned correctly. That’s how a pick snaps.”

Once Áine had the picks in the lock, her nerves eased a little and the part of her mind that loved to learn how things worked overrode her anxiety. It was like a puzzle and she took to it immediately with focus and determination. Astarion did note that she was being a little overcautious still, which was fine until it came to completing the last little bit. 

Fretting again, now at losing her progress rather than at trying in the first place, Áine asked without taking her eyes off the lock, “What if I break it this far into the keyhole?”

Astarion laughed softly. “You’re not going to break it, you almost have it. Just a little further in.”

Áine’s jaw tightened and she incrementally adjusted her grip on the tools, but her right hand doing most of the work was starting to shake. She was talking herself up to try to calm her nerves when she saw Astarion’s alabaster hands move to cover hers, his sure grip steadying the tremors. Her gaze dropped to the circle of his strong arms around her and she felt the blood rush to her face. He’s just trying to help you, stop being weird, she told herself sternly as he used her hands to adjust the pins she held. 

“Little known truth,” he purred right next to her ear, “lockpicking has a surprising amount of crossover with other, more tactile skill sets.”

Right, you’re no longer the only one being weird, carry on, her inner voice amended and she smirked and shook her head at his antics, the ridge of her ear brushing his jawline. She was surprised she didn’t cut herself on that exquisitely sharp line of his. “I have concerns if you’re using our lockpicking kits for anything but locks,” Áine bantered back, subconsciously following the guidance of his hands to adjust the pins a few degrees and reattempt the last tumbler.

She felt his chest vibrate against her back as he chuckled. “No need for a kit to coax open those more intimate places,” he murmured, “but similar care and dexterity apply… And while those activities have more intoxicating sounds to note progress…” The lock under both of their attentions suddenly clicked free. “...This one certainly never gets old.”

Áine was fighting the blush that threatened to deepen on her cheeks and ears as her pulse picked up the pace with his words and the pleasant bergamot and rosemary notes of his cologne wrapped around her when the lock clicked, and she was so shocked by the success that for a second she forgot all about the sudden, hot-blooded desire that had pooled in her stomach. Something else to decipher at a later moment.

“It worked!” she exclaimed, a new kind of excited as she carefully removed the pins and turned her head to look at him. He’d remained at her shoulder and their noses almost touched. Áine became self-aware again that he could probably, no definitely, hear how her heart was pounding and how it had been pounding for the past couple of minutes. “Thank you,” she said, offering him an embarrassed smile. 

Astarion regarded her with slightly hooded red eyes and one of his rakish smirks, but one that held a hint of softness to it too. “Anytime, my dear,” he whispered, his cool breath caressing her face. Before he leaned back and stood up, he nudged his nose against hers, maybe just to acknowledge their proximity or make her acknowledge it with him. 

Regardless of the reason, it was yet another cute small thing he’d done to add to her short, but growing list. Yes, this one was definitely dangerous in all kinds of heartrending ways. Some he very much knew and exploited, some she wasn’t so sure he did. Meanwhile, Astarion’s reaction to his own instinctual little nudge was to not only be utterly baffled at where that had come from in his vast repertoire of seductive flirtations but also to be embarrassed by its affectionate nature. He was congratulating himself on ruining a perfectly perfect moment to plant ideas of raw, uninhibited sex in her thoughts when she finished pilfering the chest and stood up, their eyes meeting again just for the span of a breath, but long enough for him to read her expression. Had he ruined it after all? 

A shout down the road caused both of them to snap to attention. Áine was quicker than he to react, roughly handing him back his lockpicking kit as she dashed past him to get to the others. Astarion noted as he hastened to store the kit and follow that the shout had sounded like Shadowheart.

By the time Astarion arrived, Áine was already deftly dodging around a gnoll that she’d distracted away from the others. Lae’zel and Wyll were both grounded, the gith looking in awful shape with a sizable chunk taken from her shoulder. Shadowheart was bent over both of them, trying desperately to stabilize them both while Gale held a shield in front of them, another gnoll swiping at the conjuration while maniacal cackles erupted from its bloodied jaws. A blast of red light shot from Wyll’s fingertips in the direction of the beast, but he missed his target as he crumpled back into the dirt. 

Quickly, Astarion drew his bow and shot an arrow through the throat of the gnoll attacking Gale’s forcefield. He could smell nothing but fresh blood, but it struck him how easily he was able to turn his more feral instincts away. 

Because it’s the blood of your friends, a small voice in the back of his mind spoke honestly. 

Astarion’s mouth warped into a grimace at his own thoughts’ betrayal even as he continued to loose arrows into the oncoming gnolls that threatened to overwhelm Gale and his protective stance over their downed companions. In his peripheral vision, Astarion searched for Áine, fearing—fearing?—the worst initially given how they were fairing. She’d sprinted up the hill to, he assumed, head them off at the pass to give Gale and Shadowheart some breathing room, but he couldn’t see her from his vantage point.

He’d no sooner thought it than he saw his—his?—little hellion tumble over the hillside in a full-on scrap with one of the great, mangy beasts. 

Áine twisted and sprang from its hold, the both of them managing to land on their feet as they squared off. While the gnoll’s actual hackles were up, Áine’s proverbial hackles wrenched even higher, the sight of her companions so desperate and bloodied unhinging something in her she’d not tapped into in…

…well, a long time that would never be long ago enough.

She raised her scavenged wooden shield and a scimitar as the gnoll bore down on her. From the ledge above them, a hyena lunged out of some brush, attempting to take her down from an aerial jumping point. Without hesitation, Áine caught the hyena’s gut on her blade and in one cruel twist of her sword, disemboweled it and slammed it into the earth at its ally’s feet. She then set her sights back on the horrid creature she’d started with. 

“Come on!” she challenged it, cracking the flat side of her bloody blade against her shield. The gnoll looked between her and the felled hyena, seeming to be reassessing who the real apex predator was. With its tail between its legs and a haunting hybrid sound somewhere between a cackle and a whimper, it loped back up the road.

When she was sure it had gone, she slowly straightened her posture, her breast noticeably rising and falling with each intake of breath. Áine looked down at the shield she held, her jaw tightening as she tossed it back to the ground, glad to be rid of it though it had proven useful in the moment. She kept the sword and turned to check on the others as she sheathed it, only to freeze in place when she found all five of her companions staring at her, some of them slackjawed. “What?” she asked, her voice coming out breathy.

“That was…,” Gale began, but his sentence tapered off as he found himself at a loss for words.

“Sublime,” Lae’zel said, seeming a bit more stable now after Shadowheart’s still somewhat reluctant efforts to heal her up. “I underestimated you.”

“Áine, you don’t fight like any bard I’ve ever seen,” Wyll interjected, his eyes both awed and suspicious. “When do you mean to tell us what you really are?”

“Mystra’s eyelashes, Wyll, she just saved your bloody life,” Gale said with exasperation, gently waving Shadowheart away from healing his own lacerations so she could focus on herself or Lae’zel and Wyll. “Perhaps a thank-you wouldn’t go amiss before you start an interrogation.”

“I’ll thank her plenty when I know who I’m thanking,” Wyll said as he unsteadily rose to his feet, meeting Áine’s eyes with a challenging look of his own.

“Of all the people to pick a fight with,” Gale was muttering under his breath, “sure, pick the sword maiden splattered in gnoll blood, that’ll end well for you…”

Were Astarion’s full attention not fixed on Wyll, he may have laughed at one of Gale’s jokes for once. He was absolutely right though—it was unclear whether Wyll thought he was doing a good thing by picking at Áine or if he was simply feeling emasculated after being saved by her, but regardless he was very wrong to be poking the bear. Áine looked the very portrait of a war hero standing there and if Astarion knew a thing about battle-born adrenaline, Wyll could’ve picked a better time to stir the pot.

Instead of snapping back, Áine smirked, her lip split from her scrap with the gnoll. Astarion had smelt her blood when she’d hit the ground nearby and he noticed now that she’d taken a scratch up her ribs where her light armor didn’t quite cover her tunic, but it didn’t seem to be deep enough to concern her at the moment. She nodded toward Wyll. “And you fight like no swordsman I’ve ever seen.”

Wyll was visibly unsettled at his accusation being upended. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his teeth clenched.

Áine sniffed, rolling her shoulders as she said, “Humans can’t cast eldritch spells on their own. Add to that the fact that you’re hunting a devil and, well…” She smiled at him, her next words positively saccharine. “I’m just very glad that we both know what we’re doing.”

Astarion was admittedly disappointed when it didn’t come to blows. But it was fun to see the Blade of Frontiers back down and proverbially roll over to bear his belly to the acting alpha. 

Not to mention the true crux of the confrontation, for him at least—angry, bloodied, battle-fresh Áine was hot.

His glance toward the rest of the group brought with it a faint wave of possessiveness. Based on every single inspired, lusty, or downright moony expression he saw lingering in the bunch—bleeding Hells, even Wyll’s—he was far from the only one who thought so.

Next chapter: Chapter 7, "Night Orchids & Wine"

[yiminsuu]

Bittersweet Dreams

Pairing: Dream/Morpheus x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst with fluff, strained mother/daughter relationship, Morpheus and reader are bad at love, mutual pining, mentions of Calliope, reader is a medium, Death is the best.

Author’s Note: Gosh I absolutely loved The Sandman, I wish for a 2�� season soon!

The sky cries shiny drops of water, illuminated by the full moon that seems to ignore all possible ways of hiding behind clouds. Laying on my bed with a blank expression, I woke up from another nightmare, a dream in which I was too cruelly suffering my worst feelings. No one came to help, no one came.

Did Dream forget about me...?

My heart ached, and I felt so overwhelmed by that thought alone that I couldn't help but fall to the ground when I tried to stand. So I stayed where I am and waited, and waited, and waited...

My nails felt cold, goosebumps appeared on my skin rapidly as someone translucent, someone that looked young, did their best to help me stand up. I don't know them, and they didn't let me see them either as if afraid of my reaction. However, they always appeared whenever I thought of him with sadness, and whispered so softly to not lose hope. I received an unwelcome letter not many days ago, with no address or sender, but it struck me so profoundly I couldn't breathe.

Calliope is beautiful, a daughter of Zeus, the love of Morpheus and the mother of the child they both lost. Grief and mourning reuniting ex-lovers are common and understandable, and I wish for nothing more than Dream to be okay, but I know... I know that I have nothing to do with it.

I felt my heart break, and a small whisper caught my attention, a whisper so mild and sweet it sounded familiar. Deciding to push myself through that person, I walked to the kitchen in complete darkness. They were gone, perhaps disappointed at my actions. Hell, I'm disappointed too, for thinking about him, for remembering every second, minute, hour and day I spent with him, helping him be the King of Dreams again...

And... That time we almost...

The sound of the microwave stirred me from daydreaming. I took the coffee and for an unknown amount of time I stood in place, glaring slightly, I watched the light of the kitchen blinking until it broke, and shards fell to the ground.

The stars never shined as bright as this type of night, then again, it's always like this whenever I'm visited by a form that should've crossed the other side a long time ago.

Death promised.

She promised she would take my mother away to the other side, but I can't blame anyone, mom was always the one that never let me live... Not without regrets, guilt, and hatred. Chuckling half-heartedly, I took a sip of my hot coffee and burned my tongue, hardly caring that tears fell down my cheeks. I am against drinking my problems away, and I am not good with human relationships, not since my last job. A job in which I was fired for not having sex with my boss. "Took you long enough, she's been annoying me for the last 4 hours." I muttered with a hint of exasperation. If I can see the dead then of course I would feel Death strolling around.

She didn't say anything for some time. "Your mother is... Stubborn. I didn't think she would escape just to see how you are."

"She wants to see me as depressed as ever, maybe this is the last time I see her and I feel incredibly uncomfortable. She stinks of poison." Death didn't take long in taking that woman away, and she came back 20 minutes later to sit in front of me, the cup of coffee long forgotten. Once more, we were alone, and I know what she wanted: To speak about me... And Dream.

"Death--"

"Let me speak." I shut my mouth closed. There was a small smile on her lips, and the kindness in her eyes is evident, but her tone is... Anything but friendly. "You cannot keep doing this, (Y/N). Guns and knives aren't the only cause of death in the world, and you, you that is so willingly sensitive to the other side... It's possible to die of a broken soul. A broken heart." I know how right she is, damn if I know how much this is mentally consuming me, but Dream is... Out of my reach. His everything will always belong to her. "I know... But I can't."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?"

"I can't, AND I don't want to. It won't matter in the end, I'm not immortal, I'm not like you. I am a human with a fucked up bloodline." Death stared at me with no emotion. "I will die." I continued. "Don't you think I should suck these emotions in? And bury them as far as Hell is so I won't see one more tear in his eyes? Half of his siblings want him gone, his son is dead, he was imprisoned for 100 years...! He's had enough! My problems are nothing compared to his, besides... I already know what his answer is... All he does is give me nightmares..." The silence is unbearable, I had looked away long before finishing my sentence, Death is still staring at me with almost no emotion except for her mouth slightly open, and letting out an exhaled to finish the conversation. 

The lights flickered wildly before coming to a stop as the chocolaty figure was about to leave. "Do you remember what your father said? About love...?" I didn't respond, and she was gone.

Friction makes affection. 

But does my dear king feel the same affection...?

I couldn't sleep the next night either, I spent all day helping a family come to terms with the death of their sons and it left me bothered. I knew something bad would happen, but I didn't know it would be me that would be left so empty. The smile those children gave me when they departed... I...

"(Y/N)."

I jumped on my chair before turning at the source of the voice, the last person I wanted to see. "Dream..."

He remained quiet as he watched my expression intently, and I quickly realized I was crying. Dream took a few steps toward me but I backed away, making him stop abruptly. "A job... It took a turn on me. D-Do you need something?"

"The Corinthian." I inhaled heavily at that name. "Death found a body left by it, there was no soul to be collected. I need you to look for it." He finished and I sighed, I knew it was going to be a tough job to look for a scared soul. That monster has been nothing but a nuisance ever since he got out of Dream's realm. "Alright, but please, let me become a person before going out there--" A grip on my arm made me stop in my tracks, and I glanced up at the king to find him staring into my eyes. My heartbeat increased and my brows furrowed with shyness. "The nightmares." He paused for a small moment. "They weren't on purpose."

"They weren't on purpose? I've been plagued with those for over 3 weeks and that's all you have to say!?" I needed to shout out my pain at his irresponsibility, but in the end, I had to calm down. "I haven't slept at all..."

"I know." He said, almost too gently. None of us said anything afterward, I don't know how much time has passed, and more tears danced down my cheeks. Dream's touch held a flame that burned me as I got dangerously closer to him, my head rested on his cheek as he placed his hand on my hair. I embraced his torso softly and relaxed, hearing his low hum, a sound of approval at me returning the affection.

Affection...

"What have I done to deserve such nightmares...?" I muttered. The king held me in place, I didn't dare push away, and I didn't care if I was being selfish. I only want him to stay a little longer. "You are connected to me... And I made sure it would remain like that." I looked at him slowly and felt his hands on both my cheeks, my eyes widened. "What I saw... Were your personal nightmares...?" Dream didn't say anything, and only stared at me before uniting our foreheads.

He's... Scared of losing me, and I him.

"Dream... I've always been yours. But I beg you, don't give me more nightmares." My hands came up to his cheeks, and he closed his eyes as he felt me, his thumb cleaning away my tears. My beloved Morpheus. "My queen, I won't let anyone hurt you. You are mine, for as long as I live."

[droopycoquette]

BTS Fic recs!!!

This is just a list of fics that I really loved, also, some of these were nameless so I kinda named them

JUNGKOOK

XX(X)II by @softyoongiionly

Summary: Jungkook is an amazing lover.  He’s always so gentle, so restrained…so attentive. But, you find yourself wondering if he wants you as much as you want him. Tonight, he decides to address your curiosity.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, swearing, JUNGKOOK!!! 

//

Silent Treatment by @taecheeks

summary: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation, bully!jungkook, nerd!reader

word count: 4.2k

//

Lost by @onlyswannlyswa

summary: in which jungkook loses you in the grocery store.

warnings: mentions of food and alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

//

Grocery Store by @yoon2k

Summary: the grocery store girl hits on your husband

Warnings: dilf!Jungkook, Milf!reader

Word count: short

//

Recital by @yoon2k

Summary: jk dyes his hair blonde and all the dance moms go nuts

Warnings: dilf!jungkook, Milf!reader

Word count: short

//

Mine by @yoon2k

Summary: All women flock to Jungkook, what happens when men flock to you?

Warnings: jealous!jungkook, dilf!jungkook, Milf!reader

Word count: short

//

Vacation by @yoon2k

Summary: daddy's not blonde anymore, they're on family vacation, and he wears obnoxious shirts and gets matching ones for the whole family

Warnings: milf!reader, dilf!jungkook

Word count: medium

//

In The Night by @jiminstonic

Summary: When you find out that the shy tech guy has been watching you at night, you take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: stalking, male masturbation, female masturbation, obsessive thoughts, yandere behavior, mention of filming without consent, vibrator use, body worship, breaking and entering, use of "princess", it's hot

Word Count: 2.3k

//

Bed And Cuddles by @oshbluepacific

Summary:  after touring for so long, cuddles are in order

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

//

YOONGI

The Mark of Yun-ki by @ladyartemesia

Summary:For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Warnings: ABO/Hybrid sexual dynamics and mating, claiming/marking/biting, explicit sexual content, impreg, a brief mention of slavery, rut/heat sex,

Word Count: 8.6k

[thegigilwriter]

15 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary. 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Chapter Summary. Lucy’s birthday looms near and Frankie isn’t able to make it. So she makes it up to her before she leaves. Luckily, Bradley has some plans in mind and he holds out hope that in time Lucy will reveal more about her complicated family.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, angst, BFF times

15 | Seashell by the Seashore 🐚

September 18, 2023

“Tanti auguri a, tetanti auguri a. Tetanti auguri a Luciaaaa.... Tanti auguri a te!ˮ

Lucy and Francesca clapped side by side, sitting together under the shade of a large parasol buried in the sand, sitting on a fitted sheet to keep the sand at bay, and enjoying the view of the sea in the mild San Diego afternoon. Francesca had baked them a lovely, little red velvet cake with buttercream frosting and they began to pick it apart with a fork, paired with some glasses of Pinot Noir.

“Iʼm sorry that I canʼt make it on your actual birthday,ˮ Frankie frowned.

“Whatʼre you talking about?ˮ Lucy smiled. “Today is my birthday. Today, I am 26 for you, my friend.ˮ

They laughed lightly, glasses clinking.

“How old is Bradley, again?ˮ Francesca hummed.

“40,ˮ Lucy replied casually. “Quite the age gap, eh?ˮ

“It is, but whenever I look at both of you I canʼt decide whether youʼre older than you look or heʼs younger than he seems!ˮ

“Thank you,ˮ Lucy chuckled.

A brief quiet ensued as they both had a bite of cake.

“Have you told him? About your mom?ˮ Francesca asked her quietly.

“Yeah,ˮ Lucy smiled. “Squeezed a few tears out of me... but I got it out in the open eventually.ˮ

“And Ford? Did you tell him about the letters and about Maveri—“

“No,ˮ she sighed deeply. “Not yet... not yet. Frankie, I really donʼt want to tal—“

“Lucia,ˮ Francesca said firmly. “I respect your privacy and your autonomy. You have a right to both. But my friend, your fatal flaw is your own isolation — you lie and push people away because youʼre afraid—“

“Frankie—“

“Youʼre afraid that if they got to know the person you really are theyʼll leave and theyʼll take all of their love with them.ˮ

Francesca Agosti was no academic marvel. She did not have any educational qualifications to become a curator and a painter. She flunked out of the fancy private college her father paid for. But she was a great scholar when it comes to the matters of the heart. She and Lucy share the trait of being insightful. While Lucy applies it towards interacting with whales, Francesca puts it on a canvas. That, is what makes her a passionate artist.

“Whatever happened to Ford was not your punishment of the matters you last exchanged,ˮ Francesca held her hand. “What happened to your mom is something out of your control. What happened to you — to wild Lucy — shouldnʼt have had to change.ˮ

“But Bradley—“

“Bradley Bradshaw is a good man,ˮ Francesca enveloped her weeping friend into her arms lovingly. “That man is absolutely in love with you, Lucia. I can see it in his eyes.ˮ

“I-In love?ˮ Lucy stuttered. “With me?ˮ

“With you,ˮ Francesca tucked her stray hairs behind her ears. “Forgive yourself Lucia,ˮ she smiled kindly. “Let him love you.ˮ

“Okay,ˮ Lucy whispered.

“I have something for you,ˮ Francesca pulled her tote bag towards her and retrieved a medium-sized box decorated with iridescent swirls and a white bow. She handed it to Lucy.

It was heavy in Lucyʼs lap, and whatever it was it thudded against the corners as she shook it gently. She undid the bow and opened the lid. Wrapped in pale tissue, was a magnificent conch shell. It was a foot in size with a large flaring lip. It had a pretty, consistent pale peach color all throughout with a vibrant pink that emerged from its entrance. Its spines were elegantly curved and ethereal.

“Oh Frankie,ˮ she sighed. “Itʼs beautiful.. But I canʼt — there are only about 50,000 in the world and I donʼt know how you got this but if itʼs from a protected area —“

“Lucia stop,ˮ Francesca chuckled. “Remember Scala dei Turkei? I tripped on that a week before I came here. I had it checked out, thereʼs nothing in here and itʼs okay to keep...ˮ

“Thank you Frankie,ˮ she embraced her tightly. “For everything.ˮ

Just then, Lucyʼs phone rang and from just how she smiled as she picked it up, Francesca could tell just who it was on the other side…

“Yeah,ˮ Lucy chuckled looking at Francesca. “I think sheʼd like that.ˮ

“Iʼve only had a glass,ˮ she argued. “I can have a beer.ˮ

Francesca giggled. Lucy stood up, gesturing for the bathroom.

“We can always Uber, Bradley,ˮ she said into the phone as she went ahead and grabbed her purse.

“Okay, okay, if you insist.ˮ Lucy sighed as she sauntered away.

Francesca watched her from the distance, her mind drifting and finding itself to Robert Floyd. It was no secret that Francesca has had her fair share of lovers — some amorous, some stoic, some scandalous, and some just too square. But she never really met anyone who was quite like Robert Floyd.

“Looks like that went well,ˮ Bob smiled at her.

“It looks like that right now,ˮ she replied to him as she downed another Bellini. “But wait until the paper comes out tomorrow and Italyʼs most snobby pricks nitpick the failure of a daughter from a family gallerists.ˮ

They were walking the length of the restricted areas museum at night. Bob had her heels in his hand and his jacket on her shoulders. They found a tall glass door to a patio and just before they exited to meet with the view of the sea, they spotted two lovers, so engrossed with each other that neither of them felt the chilly air.

“Theyʼre really going at it,ˮ Bob chuckled as Bradley pulled Lucy closer to him. “Iʼve never seen Rooster like this.ˮ

“Neither have I with Lucia,ˮ Francesca remarked. “Come, I know some other place we can go.ˮ

They ended up in an empty gallery room in which Francesca powered a switch nearby and a floating, projected art exhibition illuminated the space. It was one of those instagram- worthy, art-interactive, locations that people loved to take pictures at.

“I think these kinds of exhibitions were made for clout,ˮ Bob said as-matter-of- factly.

“Definitely,ˮ Francesca drawled, her stance flailing. She sat down on one corner of the room and Bob followed suit, watching the lights scatter against the white walls.

“Youʼre not a failure, yʼknow?ˮ He told her. “History tells us that the critics arenʼt always right.ˮ

“Thatʼs true,ˮ Francesca nodded sleepily. “But those artists werenʼt children of my Father.ˮ

A beat.

“Artists donʼt please, they create.ˮ Bob told her. Francesca looked at him thoughtfully. The lights were hypnotic, the Bellini buzz was on its high, and his lips looked very lonely. She cupped his cheek and slowly drew him to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder gently.

“Itʼs late,ˮ he said. “Let me take you home.ˮ

Unbeknownst to Francesca whose face placed in her palms, Bradley had arrived in khaki uniform and walked up to their little patch of shade on the beach.

“You alright?ˮ He asked her. Francesca looked up.

“Oh yes...ˮ Francesca smiled. “Lucia just went to the bathroom. Sheʼll be back.ˮ

“Well I sure hope so,ˮ Bradley joked. “Iʼve had a whole thing planned for her birthday. I would hate for her to miss it... I hope she likes it.ˮ

“As long as itʼs from you, Iʼm sure sheʼll enjoy it.ˮ She replied.

“What did you get her?ˮ Bradley gestured towards the gift box. Francesca opened the lid.

“Only about 50,000 of those left. Are they from a—“

“No theyʼre not from a protected area,ˮ Francesca chuckled. “I stubbed my toe on that on an isolated beach in Italy. Had it checked out too. You listen to her...ˮ

“‘Course I do,ˮ Bradley tuck his aviators in his shirt as he ducked into the shade and sat beside her. “Sheʼs my girlfriend…”

“Iʼm going to take care of her you know,ˮ he told her after a moment of stillness, looking out to the water.

“I know you will... just be patient with her,ˮ Francesca sighed. “If thereʼs anything I can tell you, itʼs that Lucy comes from a family where... pushing down their feelings and hiding their problems is way to be strong. Itʼll be hard — getting Lucia out of her shell.ˮ

“Hey!ˮ Lucy arrived a few moments later in her white sunhat, she crawled into their enclosure, eyes lighting up at the sight of Bradley

“Hey Angel,ˮ he grinned handsomely as he kissed her cheek. “Ready for the Hard Deck?ˮ

“Is Bob going to be there?ˮ She smirked, a faint blush dusting Francescaʼs cheek.

“You told him?!ˮ She exclaimed. “Lucia!ˮ

“He did, actually.ˮ Bradley answered, winking. “Looks the right one finally came your way.ˮ

New ship unlocked! 🔓💞🔑 Should I make a short spin-off series about these two new lovebirds after Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel? Well that’s a wrap for now! See you at 16 | Lucy’s Surprise!

[merlinrarepairfest]

Round Up 2

The second week of posting has brought us another bunch of amazing rare pairs! A huge thanks to everyone, and you can find them beneath the cut! <3

Title: Sweet violet and cherry blossom Writer: Skydragon05 | @skydragon05 Rating: General Audiences  Warnings: None Medium/Word Count: 1528 Pairing/main characters: Arthur/Gwen/Elena Up to 10 tags: Fluff, Wedding, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Flowers, Canon Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Episode: s03e06 The Changeling (Merlin), Oneshot

Summary: 

There could hardly be more contrast between now and the last time Arthur had stood in this spot anticipating his imminent marriage. This time, not only was he the king, but he was also happy. Today he was here entirely by choice, and for love, and he knew the warmth he felt today was shared equally amongst both of his brides. Wedding oneshot for Merlin Rare-pair Fest 2023: Elena/Arthur/Guinevere

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51389851

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Title: The Wild Goose Writer: littlegreyfish Rating: E Warnings: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings Medium/Word Count: Fic/30,000 | Chapters: 1/6 Pairing/main characters: Balinor/Hunith Up to 10 tags: Hurt/comfort, Angst, Strangers to lovers, Injury recovery, Physical disability, Age difference, Character study, Canon era, Pre-canon, Canon compliant

Summary:

Fleeing the slaughter of his people, the last dragonlord finds home with a peasant girl.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51400252

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Title: [ART] Two of Us Artist: Mischel | @magicalmischel Rating: G Warnings: none Medium/Word Count: Art Pairing/main characters: Gwen/Merlin Up to 10 tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gwen Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Gwen Has Magic (Merlin), BAMF Gwen (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Digital Art 

Summary: 

Gwen/Merlin or Gwen & Merlin fanart for Rare Pair Fest 2023. Prompt: AU where Gwen has magic

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51388438

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Title: left unattended Writer: Sage_Owl Rating: Mature Warnings: None Medium/word count: Fic/4,078 Pairing/main characters: Leon/Lancelot Up to 10 tags: Canon Divergence, Time Skips, Character Study, Wings, Mild Smut, Magic, Loneliness, Mythical Creatures, King Arthur Pendragon

Summary:

It started as a way to escape. No, that wasn’t right. It started because he was drunk.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51328009

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Title: Something for the pain Writer: Ace_Teagirl | @aroaceteagirl Rating: Gen Warnings: None  Medium/Word Count: fic 11,960 words Pairing/main characters: Merlin & Mordred Up to 10 tags: Canon era; Canon divergence; Child Mordred; Past child abuse

Summary:

“Who is this?” Gaius finally asked. Merlin yelped in surprise as he turned fast enough to almost lose his balance and stumble. The purse of Gaius’ lips and the raised eyebrows told Merlin his mentor was struggling not to laugh at the display. Merlin wouldn’t admit it, but he appreciated it. “I found him on the street, I think he’s a druid. He can use mindspeech, but he can’t or won’t speak to me. I don’t really know who he is or where he’s from, but he needs help, Gaius. I couldn’t just let him freeze and starve out there. It’s just for a few days, I promise –” Or Merlin finds Mordred on the street on a cold and rainy night and decides to take him in. He starts teaching the boy how to control his magic and Mordred soon becomes Merlin's ward.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bbcm_rare_pair_fest_2023/works/51374515

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Title: distance your emotions Writer: Ceewelsh | @mayonnaisetoffees Rating: M Warnings: Major Character Death Medium/Word Count: Fic/1779 Pairing/main characters: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur also involved Leon, Morgana and Elyan Up to 10 tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Order 66, Angst

Summary:

The world seemed to be heading for a tipping point, and Arthur could only hope it would be for the better. Perhaps soon the war would be over. Once the galaxy was safe… Maybe then he would be free to leave the Jedi Order and live out his days with Gwen and Merlin. Meeting them, training with them, their bond was unmistakable. It was not the Jedi way, but not every life is built for the Order. Arthur knew that, now. His duty came first, protecting those who needed it was more important than his feelings. But maybe once there was peace, it wouldn’t feel like such a betrayal to leave.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51385720

[stayevildarling]

not sure if you take requests atm… but if you do, could i request an angst, mina x cordelia x billie x reader fic where reader is struggling with like depression and/or sh, but tries to hide it from her girlfriends. i know you’ve written a few stories just like this one, so please feel free to add anything or twist the story however you’d like. idk im just thinking some kind of argument but a fliff ending

thank you! have a good day

Wilhemina Venable x Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Reader- Confessions in the dark

A/N: honestly I considered making this even longer but I have no idea whether people enjoy reading very long fics anymore. But I can easily make a part two with this as I don't believe it would end there and like this because let's face it- life isn't all sunshine and rainbows 🤷‍♀️

word count: 7k

tw: mention of depression (very mild), mention of self harm (mild), mention of troubled eating (very mild), mention of being sick, cursing, smoking

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

As the day slowly winds down at the academy, the atmosphere shifting from a busy morning filled with classes, errands and working, to a cozy and relaxed one. Wilhemina had been working, Billie as well but having a more quiet day, only some meetings on her usual busy agenda. You had spent your day moping mostly, trying to focus on teaching your classes and helping out your students, eventually collapsing on your bed as the responsibilities tired you out, causing you to retreat to the comfort of a nap, sleep drawing out all the thoughts that had been lingering on your mind lately, shushing the battles you had been fighting in silence for the last few weeks.

When you eventually awaken, your usual darkness surrounds you and clouds your thoughts but as you almost lazily scroll through the academy, you find her. Medium to your heart. Billie arrived home earlier than usual, her presence bringing a sense of warmth and comfort to the spacious living room. She settles onto the plush sofa, kicking off her heels and letting out a contented sigh as she sinks into the cushions. Not expecting either of her girlfriends to have finished with their days yet, she is surprised to find you lingering by the doorway, chuckling seeing you so comfortable in an oversized hoodie and looking adorable as ever.

You join her, snuggling up beside her on the sofa, grateful for the chance to unwind together after a long day. The two of you share easy conversation, laughing and joking as you catch up on each other's day. Billie's presence is like a soothing balm, and you find yourself relaxing in her company, feeling safe and cherished.

,,How has your day been babydoll?'' she asks as she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, her nails comfortable settling on your back, creeping underneath your hoodie and scratching over the skin ever so gently in a soothing way, the way you loved it most.

,,It's been fine, how about yours?'' you muster up your best smile, trying to avert her eyes as you knew she could see right through you. As she begins to share some details about her day, her manicure appointment and some meetings today, you notice Wilhemina lingering in the hallway, having returned from work a few moments before. She moves gently around the room, with a sense of quiet grace, her presence adding an air of sophistication to the space. She joins you both after a little while, giving you both a gentle smile before settling in her armchair besides you and listening to Billie talk about her day, the redhead usually enjoying some quiet rather than sharing details about her day, very much like you but at the same time very much unlike your other two girlfriends.

Cordelia on the other hand, has been out running errands, her day filled with tasks and responsibilities. At first the was doing some work in her office, going over some council things, replying to some emails, checking for any new applications. Briefly, she made an appearance in one of the classes run by you and Zoe, smiling contently as she noticed everything was running smoothly. After lunch, she decided to head out, doing some errands, including shopping and also visiting the doctors office to pick up Wilhemina's medications and prescriptions. Usually the redhead did these things herself but she had asked Cordelia as she knew the supreme needed to head out today and Wilhemina couldn't make it in time. During her visit and conversation with the receptionist, knowing the four of you and especially the supreme quite well by now, she however, received some unexpected news.

And as she finally returns home, her mind racing with worry and concern, the tension is very noticeable as she enters the living room, taking a deep breath, as her eyes lock with your own. Almost ignoring Wilhemina's and Billie's presence as the medium stopped talking when noticing the supreme's presence and greeting her with some warm words. All three of you notice, the tension and the concern written across the blonde's features and so Wilhemina is the first one to take over, sensing yours and Billie's hesitation and the flick of fear in your eyes.

,,Honey, what is it?'' she asks gently, trying to make eye contact with the supreme. And despite the flicker in the blondes eyes, acknowledging the redheads statement, her eyes can't help but leave yours.

,,I stopped by the doctors office today to pick up some of Wilhemina's medication'' she begins and instantly you shiver in Billie's arms, the blonde noticing the shift from you comfortable and safe in her arms to being able the feel the tension so clearly.

Wilhemina's eyebrows furrow in confusion, not understanding what any of that has to do with you, before her eyes travel towards you and noticing your state.

Cordelia takes a moment to gather her thoughts, her mind racing with how to broach the sensitive topic, doubting whether she should have talked to you alone, however her worry not being able to delay this conversation any further. ,,Sweetie'' she addresses you directly, her tone gentle yet a little firm. ,,Why haven't you been picking up your medication for quite some time now?''

The room falls silent as Cordelia's words hang in the air, the question not being answered, as all you can do in response being shivering in Billie's arms. The medium's brows furrow with concern, as her hands try to keep you calm, trying to reassure you as she is sure there is an explanation for this, despite the flicker of guilt in her brown orbs. Wilhemina's expression remains neutral, though her eyes betray a hint of worry. All eyes are on you now, awaiting your response and what they are sure may just be a simply misunderstanding.

As Cordelia's words sink in, you feel a knot form in your stomach, your thoughts racing as you realise they had caught on. The weight of their gazes on you, Billie's hands on you, hit you like a ton of bricks. You guessed they would eventually catch on, despite your best efforts at hiding your emotions and state, however you didn't expect it to be today of all days, now, in-front of the other two as well.

Billie's hands travel towards your cheeks, trying to give you some comfort as she meets your eyes, noticing how your chin begins wobbling, tears lingering in your eyes, the tension in the room growing with each second. ,,Babydoll, is everything okay?'' she asks softly, the concern evident in her voice and features.

Wilhemina watches you intently, her expression unreadable as she waits for your response. Though she remains silent, her gaze holds a silent plea for you to open up, despite knowing you are very much like the slightly older woman, having a hard to time lay your feelings out like that. Her eyes eventually find Cordelia's, both questioning her choice of bringing it up like that, at the same time giving her an understanding nod, sharing the blonde's concern over you.

And as time flees on, the seconds slowly turning into minutes, you try and think of something. You could easily lie, making up some sort of excuse for not having been able to pick it up, or even blame it on the doctors office, making some kind of mistake. You despised it, lying to them, but you couldn't share how truly bad you had been feeling. For a moment it does cross your mind, whether to be honest, tell them about the battles you had been fighting, how you had really been struggling with sleeping, eating, often making excuses and how an all too familiar friend, the blade, had come to greet you again some time ago.

And then the room begins spinning a little, the lack of food mixed with your anxiety slowly bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out any moment and cause for panic to win over. Billie's hands still linger on you, but you can't feel them, their gazes blurring together as one, mixing in with the walls and furniture, the orange and yellow from the sun setting in the background. And then your ears begin ringing a little, fading out the sounds of Cordelia's words, begging you to fill them in on what's been going on. But somehow, Wilhemina notices, how your eyes are fixed on a point somewhere, staring into nothingness, how your hands are shaking, your legs bouncing up underneath the blanket ever so slightly, how your face turned noticeably pale.

,,Y/N, I need you to talk to us'' Cordelia begins again, ignoring your state as her thoughts of concern and worry win over.

,,Cordelia-'' Wilhemina begins, slowly drawing her eyes away from you and towards the redhead. And when the blonde notices the expression on her girlfriends face, she instantly stops, her mouth closing as she stops the words that were about to follow. Wilhemina's eyes plead with her to stop, to notice your struggling state and to focus on helping you rather than interrogating you right now.

Cordelia fights back some tears, internally scolding herself for pushing you and not noticing she was pushing too much, not noticing your vulnerable state, still sitting in Billie's arms. And then, they just let you sit in silence, waiting for this little storm to pass as your breaths become a little more erratic, your chest rising and falling quickly. Wilhemina composes herself, reaching for your hand, as Billie lets go of them. And when you feel a slightly firmer grip on your hand, your eyes snap open, her brown eyes drawing you towards her.

And as you look up at her, meeting her brown steady and safe eyes, the little reassuring smile and feeling her thumb rub little circles on your hand, your breathing finally returns to normal, the colour slowly finding it's way to your features again. And just like that, her safety guides you back to reality, your vision much less blurry, the panic slowly subsiding. She simply gives you a proud little smile as you return the favour by mouthing the words ,,Thank you''. And then the room is quiet again, Billie glancing at Cordelia, who still stands in the room, almost frozen, watching the exchange between you and the redhead.

,,Are you tired little one?'' your girlfriends asks, noticing how you are trying very hard to blink the sleep away. Glancing at your other two girlfriends, you simply nod, feeling a little shy and embarassed, also guilty for never answering their questions. ,,Let's get you upstairs, shall we?'' she asks before balancing on her cane and holding out her hand to you. You hesitate then, glancing at Billie who simply forces a smile and nods, allowing you to go and reassuring it's okay to get some rest.

And so you take her hand, not daring to glance at Cordelia, feeling horrible and guilty for ignoring her like this, but at the same time not being able to help it as sleep and a sense of fatigue washes over you, almost drowning you in it. And so carefully, you balance on Wilhemina, quickly up on your shaky legs and following her upstairs. Billie and Cordelia watch as the two of you leave, the only sound to be heard, the sound of Wilhemina's cane as the two of you ascend the stairs and eventually make it into your shared bedroom. Cordelia sighs heavily as soon as she hears the faint sound of the bedroom door opening and closing, almost with a sense of defeat walking over to the sofa where you had sat and sitting down next to Billie, rubbing her temples in annoyance and distress.

,,I'm sure it's nothing, darling'' Billie tries to reassure her, noticing the supremes state, knowing her words wouldn't give much comfort to the blonde, but wanting to try nevertheless. ,,I'm sorry'' Cordelia whispers, the guilt weighing heavily on her mind. ,,I shouldn't have brought it up like that'' she apologies, more to you and herself rather than Billie Dean. ,,I understand love, but you're worried and it's okay'' the medium reassures as she reaches for the supreme's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, her girlfriend simply responding with a sad smile.

Meanwhile, Wilhemina had guided you upstairs, with so much love and gentleness, it almost makes you cry as you sit on the bed where she had sat you down. As the room turns darker and darker by the minute, you watch as she walks over to your wardrobe, carefully opening some draws until she finds your pyjama one and looking for some comfortable ones. Once she is content with her choice, she reaches for a hairbrush and scrunchie before returning to you. Neatly, she places the clothes beside you, before ushering you to turn around. ,,Mina- you don't need to'' you begin to protest but she shushes you quickly with a gentle smile and shaking of her head.

And so you comply, sitting crossed leg and turning around, before you feel her fingertips slowly brush over the top of your head, before leaning her cane on the bed, brushing through your hair gently, removing some knots, before braiding your hair for you. Usually, Cordelia would do these things for you, without ever asking for it, but your Delia loved taking care of you and so there is something so special about this encounter with your Mina that again it almost brings tears to your eyes. Her hands feel so gentle on your scalp that it almost makes you fall asleep, yet the braiding keeps you awake a little as she has to apply a certain amount of pressure to make your hair stay in place. Once she finishes, she reaches for her cane, putting the hairbrush back neatly in place, as you turn around and reach for your pyjamas.

,,Let me help you with those little one'' she tries, but you protest then, reaching for them and heading towards the bathroom. ,,Thank you but I'll do this'' you reassure. And she brushes it off then, knowing if anyone tried to dress her, she would be furious, Mina especially struggling with accepting help, even if it was with you three. And as you stand in the bathroom, smiling at first, noticing how much gentleness and care she had put into the braiding, your smile quickly fades as you noticed what pyjamas she had chosen for you. You didn't mind the trousers, however the matching shirt was unfortunately short sleeved as it was the middle of summer and her choice was more than valid.

However, as you take off your hoodie, the red marks another reminder of your foolishness lately, adding another pang of guilt to your features, almost causing your heart to sink in your chest. ,,Shit'' you think to yourself, knowing Wilhemina was perceptive, maybe not as confronting as Cordelia but after the encounter downstairs, you knew you had to be careful from now on, at least if you want to continue the hiding and keep the perfect facade up. And so you opt for the only thing you can think of, putting on the shirt but quickly putting back on your hoodie, easily being able to explain that, simply saying you are cold. And after quickly brushing your teeth, you find yourself back in the bedroom, Wilhemina waiting patiently for you, as she sits on the bed, smiling seeing her little one so comfortable and adorable.

A little unsure what to do next, you simply abandon your clothes in a nearby washing basket, before walking over to your side of the bed, crawling underneath the covers, before Wilhemina gently tucks you in, sitting beside you. ,,Are you cold, little one?'' she questions, noticing how you are still wearing your hoodie. In response, you simply nod, not wanting the subject to be adressed further and despite her being able to tell, she simply tucks you in a little more. Yawning, you glance at her before mumbling ,,You can go back down... mm.. tired'' and she smiles then, loving to see you so sleepy and adorable. ,,It's okay little one'' , she whispers before watching your chest slowly rise and fall, much more comfortable than before as sleep slowly greets you, her hand rubbing little circles on your forehead, lulling you into a soft slumber.

After a while, the redhead carefully gets up, walking towards the door but making sure you are still asleep. And when she leaves, walking down the stairs, she can hear both Billie and Cordelia in the kitchen. Her mouth watering a little as she smells the supreme's cooking, hungry and tired from her busy day, the concern about you still lingering on her mind. She finds Cordelia walking back and forth from the kitchen island to the fridge, gathering ingredients for a quick meal, while Billie is leaning against a counter, nervously fidgeting with her nails. And as the redhead finally joins them, she can't help but notice the guilty expression on the mediums face and how it had been there already when the four of you were in the living room.

,,Is she okay?'' Cordelia asks, noticing Wilhemina's return, her eyes locking with the redheads. ,,Yes, she's asleep'' she states, her eyes wandering towards Billie again.

,,What's wrong with you Howard?'' she questions, noticing the blondes unusual fidgeting and nervousness.

,,Have you also forgotten your medication or do you just need a cigarette?'' she almost mocks, Cordelia giving her a disapproving glance, before Billie chuckles nervously and reaches for a cigarette and lighter out of her handbag, before disappearing to the garden. The other two watching from the kitchen window ,,Something is up'' Cordelia remarks before adding the last ingredients to a pan while Wilhemina nods in agreement, before reaching for some plates and cutlery and placing it on the kitchen table, opting for three, unsure whether you would wake up any time soon.

And while Billie smokes her nervousness away, she can't help but think back to an encounter with you a while ago. How she had assumed that the other two already knew by now but given their lingering concern and Cordelia's discovery today, she worries whether she should have said anything, should have shared what she saw. And despite taking a deep breath, as soon as she returns and takes a seat, she can't help the shaking of her hands or averting their gazes.

While Cordelia serves the food, almost absentmindedly, her thoughts still with you, Wilhemina can't help but feel annoyance towards the mediums behaviour, never usually seeing her high energy girlfriend like this. ,,What is it Billie?'' she asks again, her tone mirroring her annoyance, Cordelia not paying much attention as she sits down and begins taking some bites of the food. ,,It's nothing'' Billie reassures, shakily reaching for her fork and forcing down some food. But Wilhemina couldn't just brush it off, knowing there was something wrong by the way Billie's behaviour shifted as soon as Cordelia filled them in on her discovery and how that same guilty expression had been on the mediums face ever since.

,,Why do you look like you just broke one of your newly manicured nails then?'' Wilhemina jokes, trying to lift the mood a little and hoping the medium might share then. And when Billie stays silent then, dropping her fork and not responding with her usual sarcasm, Cordelia picks it up, her attention now on Billie, equally abandoning her food as she notices the mediums unusual behaviour.

,,Billie darling, what's wrong?'' Cordelia questions, reaching for the mediums hand and placing her warm steady hand on her shaky one.

,,So you don't know then?'' Billie questions, her eyes locking with Cordelia's.

,,Know what honey?'' the supreme asks dumbfounded before Wilhemina joins in.

,,You knew about the medication?'' she questions, almost a little sternly but Billie is quick to shake her head.

,,No, I had no idea about that'' she confesses, only adding to the confusion on her lovers features.

,,What is it then?'' Cordelia asks, anxiously, not understanding what Billie was implying.

And when an uncomfortable silence falls over the quiet kitchen, Cordelia's and Wilhemina's concern grows with each second passing, never knowing Billie to be so quiet, to not share with them. And while the blonde thinks back to her discovery a while ago, she is hurting inside, her heart beating angrily with guilt. It was a quiet day, just you and Billie as the other two worked late, the two of you carelessly strolling through the gardens, Billie clumsily dropping the cigarette she was about to light, when you picked it up for her. A split second of carelessness, you bending down and your sleeve lifting up ever so slightly. But the split second was enough to see the fresh cuts and her mouth opened after taking the cigarette you held to her but then some girls joined you two and she couldn't say anything. And since then she had thought about bringing it up everyday with you, however she never had the chance as the two of you barely got any time with just you two. In fact, she had thought about bringing it up tonight, as the two of you sat so comfortably on the sofa, knowing about your past struggles with mental health and you taking the medication, but then Wilhemina joined and she couldn't ask about it then. She had hoped silently, that the other two already knew, Wilhemina ever perceptive and Cordelia just Cordelia and always knowing and in control of things. However the evening made her realise they had no idea, that she was the only one who had seen you struggling and the thought of not helping sooner killed her, causing for her to sit in silence, Wilhemina's impatience growing by the minute.

,,Spit it out Howard'' Wilhemina tries, pulling the medium away from her thoughts and flashbacks but she remains quiet, growing a little pale.

,,Have you forgotten English?'' Wilhemina pushes, her own anxiety betraying her.

,,I just assumed you knew being the supreme and all and you.. you wear glasses'' Billie finally speaks, pointing at Wilhemina, unsure how to ever say the words lingering on her mind.

,,What do you mean darling?'' Cordelia tries gently, her eyebrows knitting in confusion, not understanding what Billie was implying.

,,You know...'' Billie tries, stopping herself from putting those words in her mouth, the thought too painful.

,,No we don't, what do you mean Billie?'' Wilhemina tries again, softer this time, noticing how much her girlfriend is struggling with this.

And then after taking a deep breath, she finally fills them in ,,Harming herself'' is all she says, Cordelia instantly knowing what Billie means, her eyes closing as the pain of Billie's words sink in, remembering your struggles in the past and the faded scars on your wrist, despite them being barely visible when she had last seen your arms anyway.

However, Wilhemina didn't know as much as Cordelia as you never wanted to burden the redhead with your past, her own way too painful for you to ever be selfish enough to burden her with your pathetic attempts to rid you of the pain you endured. ,,What do you mean?'' she asks a little dumbfounded, not understanding how you could be harming yourself. But as she meets Cordelia's form, seeing how quiet she had gotten, how she never questioned it, how she simply sits there with her eyes closed, tears forming in Billie's vision, she knows and the realisation almost kills her, much more painful than the pain her body gave her on a daily basis due to her scoliosis.

,,Why on earth didn't you say anything?'' Wilhemina argues, now dropping her fork in annoyance as it clanks on the plate. Cordelia's eyes snap open, startled at the sudden noise and her girlfriends raised voice. ,,I assumed you both knew, I'm so sorry'' Billie apologises, the guilt gnawing at her insides. ,,Why would she do this to herself? I don't understand- Cordelia?'' Wilhemina tries reasoning with the blonde, hoping she could make this any less painful.

But Cordelia doesn't say anything, as a wave of concern and anger washes over her, concern for you and also anger at herself of how she didn't pick this up, only now realising how she hand't seen you in short sleeves in ages, how you had often not been in bed at night when she sometimes woke up, how you had often made excuses about meals. How she hadn't really seen you all that much, thinking about it now and how you had seemed so tired and sad and how she never picked it up until now, as if Billie's words only now wake her up and make her see. And so with one swift motion, she almost jumps out of her chair, startling the other two in the process before she sprints upstairs, Billie and Wilhemina looking at each other with both shocked and concerned expressions, before they are quick on their feet and behind their girlfriend.

,,Cordelia.. Cordelia'' Billie tries but it's hopeless as by the time they are both upstairs, the supreme is already by the bed, tugging at your sleeves. You jump from sleep, confusion washing over you as you try to yank your arms away from your girlfriend. ,,What are you doing?'' you ask confused and angry, just having woken from sleep.

,,Show me'' the supreme demands, her voice firm and lacking her usual gentleness. Billie watches in shock, while Wilhemina is already in the bathroom, searching through absolutely everything, trying to find some evidence, knowing you wouldn't show them, at least not like this.

,,Show you what?'' you ask confused, jumping from the bed and holding onto your sleeves, backing away into a corner as Cordelia continues to take steps towards you, her concern lingering on her features.

The blonde sighs in frustration, seeing you back away like this, before Billie takes over, taking gentle steps towards you, wanting to show you she has no intention of checking, no intention of scaring you further. ,,They know honey'' she whispers, tears lingering in her eyes as the realisation suddenly dawns on you.

Moments later, Wilhemina returns with a little makeup bag and you sigh heavily, knowing what she had just found. She holds the bag in her trembling hands, giving it to Cordelia as they pass each other. Inside the supreme finds a pack of razors, some tissue and wipes, shaking her head in disbelief, not understanding how she could have missed this, fighting back her tears as guilt and concern wash over her. ,,Are there any more?'' Wilhemina questions sternly, searching your face, searching your eyes but you remain silent, shivering as you stand in the corner under their gazes.

,,Y/N'' she tries again, banging her cane once in frustration, causing you to flinch. But this time Billie is quick to interject, positioning herself in front of you and stopping the redhead. ,,Wilhemina- enough'' she scolds, pleading with her to notice your state now.

,,No Billie, you do not get to do this'' Wilhemina argues ,,You knew all along'' she counters, causing the guilt to fill the mediums features again.

And then the room fills with silence, as neither of you can find the right words to say. Billie simply standing frozen, facing Wilhemina, still protecting you by hovering in front of you. The redhead holding onto her cane for dear life, the anger very visible on her features. Cordelia having abandoned the bag by now and sitting on a nearby chair as her legs felt like giving out, sighing in frustration as she watches the confrontation between Billie and Wilhemina unfold.

It doesn't take long before the confrontation triggers your anxiety again, causing you to shiver even more, your stomach twisting and churning before you eventually grow pale. Seconds pass until a small gagging noise escapes you, the panic growing in your eyes before you run towards the bathroom, brushing past your girlfriends. Wilhemina sighs, the guilt of this whole encounter weighing heavily on her, Cordelia and Billie sharing knowing glances and sighing in defeat, knowing they could have prevented all of this, by Billie speaking up sooner and Cordelia not addressing this in the way she had earlier this afternoon.

And as you empty the very small contents of your stomach over the toilet, tears stream down your cheeks, not from this whole encounter but more from being sick. You absolutely hated being sick, and so you can't help the hot tears escaping you. With a few deep breaths it's over and you quickly compose yourself, flushing the toilet, before brushing your teeth, wanting to rid all the evidence of what just happened. And as you stare at your pale complexion in the mirror, your brain races with thoughts, thinking what you could do to make all of this go away, to go back into hiding and them not knowing as this was exactly what you wanted to prevent. And so, the only thing your brain can think of in this moment, is make it all disappear, rid you of the scars and cuts so you could lie, go back into hiding and make this all go away.

You begin by closing your eyes after abandoning the toothbrush, rolling up your sleeves and focusing your magic on your wrists. If you were in a clear state of mind, you would know this could never work, especially not on the healed ones, or to begin with. You knew it needed healing potions and swamp mud to even remotely make it go away but your magic could never make them disappear like that. Still, you pathetically try, growing annoyed at yourself as you open your eyes and they are still there. Eventually stumbling backwards and sliding down the side of the bathtub, trying over and over again to make your magic help you out.

Meanwhile the three of them remain frozen, each of them contemplating whether to go in and help you but they knew you prefered to battle everything in silence, including being sick and they all breathe out in relief once the retching stops and the sound of a toothbrush can be heard. However, Cordelia is quick on her feet when her supreme senses alert her of something else. For some reason, Cordelia could quite literally smell your magic. It always lingered in the air whenever you used magic around her, the smell of strawberries. Ever so slightly and ever so subtle and it doesn't take long for her to connect the dots and figure out what you are trying to do. The other two watch in silence and confusion as she bursts through the door, sinking to her feet as she takes in your shivering form. And despite your best attempts to roll your sleeves back down, she had already caught a glimpse of it, knowing you are trying to make all of this go away.

,,Sweetie'' she tries, holding your hands back ,,No, No, No'' she tries to stop you ,,It doesn't work like that sweetie'' she reminds you, taking your sobbing form into her arms. ,,Shh'' she coos as you finally fall apart in her arms. The blonde is quick to sit on the floor, lean on the bathtub herself before pulling you into her chest, you holding onto her shirt for dear life, for some support to guide you through this storm. Billie and Wilhemina watch the scene unfold in confusion, not understanding what you tried to do in the first place, not being able to do much beside watch and frown, seeing their sunshine in so much pain, all the guilt and anger subsiding from their features slowly.

,,You're okay darling, it's all going to be okay'' Cordelia reassures as she holds you closely, grounding you by guiding you through your breathing, her perfume and smell calming you further as you listen to her steady but slightly quickened heartbeat. And so the two of you sit on the cold bathroom floor, neither of you caring about that as of right now. And after a while, your sobs slowly subside, the only sound to be heard your quiet breathing, as you close your eyes and continue holding onto your darling Cordelia. ,,Come on sweetie, let's get you to bed'' she tries gently but your eyes remain closed. With a worried glance, she looks up at Billie and Wilhemina who remained frozen in the exact spot, the medium quick to support Cordelia by helping her lift you up and gently take you to bed. And as you lay there, you still don't move, simply curled up, with your eyes closed before Billie tucks you in.

,,We need to let her rest'' the medium announces as she glares at the other two, getting ready to head to the bathroom to get ready to join you in bed. Wilhemina and Cordelia simply look at each other, a questioning look on the redheads face. ,,She-'' the blonde begins but quickly gives the redhead a signal to follow her. The two of you stand a little away from you before Cordelia explains ,,She tried to get rid of it with her magic'' and Wilhemina simply nods, understanding now what the supreme had sensed before and with a worried glance taking in your exhausted form.

And as the night wears on, the three of them join you in bed, Billie opting for the space next to you as she snuggles into your side, holding you close as she wraps her arms around you. As if she could make it all go away by holding you closely to her. Wilhemina in her usual spot but not able to sleep a wink, so in the end opting for simply sitting comfortable on the bed, a book in her lap, watching over you, Cordelia and Billie sleeping softly while holding you. And her thoughts can't help but trail off, why you hadn't told them, why you hadn't told her specifically, also about the medication. She worries then, that there was something about her that made you not feel safe, whether she was too strict or intimidating with you at times, despite a little voice reminding her that you hadn't shared with the other two either and that after all she managed to calm you before when panic was rippling through you.

It's about 3am when you wake, the only noises being heard the occasional car outside, the moon illuminating the coven and your bedroom, however another light source coming from another side of the bedroom, assuming it must be Wilhemina's nightlight. And then you hear a quiet noise, the sound of a book page flipping and you can't help but turn, being able to feel both Billie and Cordelia beside you but not your Mina. And as expected, she sits there, reading glasses on her face, her hair down which was a rare occasion, a lilac nightgown keeping her warm and comfortable. And it both made you sad and content, knowing she was awake because of you but also appreciating not being fully alone. You consider turning around again, hoping the soft arms of your girlfriends would coax you back to sleep but also knowing there was no way your racing thoughts would allow that.

And for some reason, the previous evening caused those all too familiar thoughts back, you felt guilty wanting to punish yourself, you felt pain wanting to make it go away, you felt fear hoping the blade could rid you of those. But you know they wouldn't have kept your things anywhere close to you and you also knew with Wilhemina awake she wouldn't let you brush past her, especially not now. And so the only thing you can do is cry, ever so quietly, trying to contain the sobs and simply letting the tears flow. But Wilhemina notices, despite your back faced to her right beside her. Cordelia and Billie beside you on the other side of the bed. She notices how your breathing was a little different and when the first sobs wrecks through you, she is quick to abandon her book on her night table, her hand reaching for your shoulder in an attempt to turn you around.

Shivering into her touch, you pretend you can't feel it, pretend you aren't crying and sobbing but it's useless as her hand taps your shoulder again, begging you to turn around. And when you do, her face crumbles seeing you in so much pain and wanting nothing more than to hold you, to comfort you, to fix all of this, to make her little one happy again. ,,Little one'' she whispers, her face filled with concern. ,,Come here'' she offers, moving her legs a little so you can get comfortable on her lap. You don't even hesitate, moving closer to her, settling on her lap, checking her expression whether it hurt her back. And for a while she holds you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, helping you through each sob, wiping your tears in between with her thumbs, trying to make all of this go away.

It takes a while, but you settle in the end, finding your breathing as the sobs had stopped, as your Mina had wiped most of your tears, only leaving your damp cheeks. ,,Little one?'' she tries, softly, causing you to look up and meet her eyes. ,,Are you alright?'' she asks, unsure what to say at this moment as you really hadn't said all that much to them yet, and it worried her. ,,Hmm'' you simply nod, unsure what to say, your tired eyes locking with her worried ones. Silence follows before you feel her fingertips travel from your back towards your arm, beginning at the top before ghosting over your hoodie and stopping by your wrists. ,,Can I see, little one?'' she tries, her eyes still locked with yours. But you flinch, not really caring about Billie or Cordelia seeing them now but Mina, you simply couldn't.

And so, you shake your head no, feeling terrible as she was so kind, gentle and loving right now but you couldn't, not with her. ,,Why?'' she questions, not sternly or angrily but curiously, wanting to know why you couldn't let her see. ,,I can't Mina, not with you'' you whisper before doubt fills her features. Her earlier concerns and voices returning, telling her you had no trust in her and you can tell, by the way her eyes avert yours and how her expression turns into a pained one. ,,I can't show you because I feel terrible'' you admit, tears lingering in your eyes again. Her eyebrow furrows in confusion, before she looks at you again with a questioning look. ,,Why little one?'' she tries, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

,,Because.. you have to go through so much pain Mina'' you whisper, the truth spilling out of you a little bit. ,,Everyday and I'm so stupid for doing this to myself, I'm sorry'' you confess, biting your lip anxiously as more tears pour from your eyes. Once the realisation hits her, her face scrunches up in pain, all the doubts and self consciousness leaving her, unable to believe that despite all the pain you had been going through, her still your main concern and caring more about her feelings and pain than your own. ,,Little one'' she tries, her eyebrows knitted in concern, her eyes filled with heartache. ,,This is not the same'' she begins ,,You are hurting and that's just as valid my darling'' she reminds you. You falter then, glancing at your wrist as she gently lifts your sleeves, her eyes landing on the healed and cuts from a few days ago.

It brings tears to her eyes but Wilhemina knows how to fight them back, knowing she needed to be there for you now. But she hated it, the thought of you so sad to do this to yourself. ,,I'm sorry that we didn't see this little one, I'm sorry we didn't help'' she apologises, gently pulling your sleeves back down, to make you feel less exposed, internally grateful that you showed her, her heart swelling a little at your honesty with her in this moment. ,,You aren't mad?'' you whisper, a little anxiously but seeing no shame, no disgust in her features. ,,No little one'' she reassures, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. And somehow she makes you feel so safe and loved that you feel confident enough to confide in her in this moment, the truth about the past few months and weeks spilling out of you.

,,I stopped taking my medicine a few months ago'' you admit, meeting her eyes as she listens contently, her expression remaining calm, loving and understanding. ,,I thought that- that maybe I didn't need it anymore'' you admit before adding ,,I don't know what I was thinking'' and Wilhemina understands all too well, herself having tried some experiments with her medication in the past before. ,,And honestly I was better Mina'' you begin nodding your head to make your statement more believable. ,,But the last few weeks have been awful'' you admit to yourself more than herself really. ,,It all came back badly and I didn't know what to do'' you finally admit, all the truth finally out there. And Wilhemina simply looks at you, feeling content after understanding your reasoning, not for a second mad or upset with you as she understood all too well.

,,It's okay, come here'' she coos as she watches your face fall apart again, knowing this must have been a lot to admit to her, and so she simply holds you again, getting you both comfortable as she lays you down and holds you tightly on her chest. ,,It's okay little one, it's all okay now'' she coos. Wilhemina tries her hardest to coax you back to sleep and despite it taking a while for the sobs to stop, your breathing to get slower and sleep to eventually welcome you, she holds you through it all. And once you are finally asleep, she sighs, not in frustration, never in frustration but in pain, wishing she could help fix this, wishing this never happened in the first place.

And when morning arrives, Cordelia wakes first, finding Billie still asleep next to her, however she wasn't holding you anymore and she gets scared then, quickly turning around, only to see you cozily asleep on Wilhemina's chest, the redhead watching over you protectively, getting some sleep but waking as the first cracks of light flooded their bedroom. She exhales, the panic leaving her features, before a soft content smile spreads across her features. ,,You okay honey?'' Cordelia mouths and Wilhemina meets her eyes then, knowing she would have to fill the supreme in on this eventually but for now simply nodding and forcing a smile. Cordelia notices the way your fist was gripping onto Wilhemina's nightgown despite being asleep and how your sleeve was exposed ever so slightly. The blonde isn't sure what to do and so she simply does what her heart tells her to, move a little closer and snuggle up to Wilhemina, one arm protectively around you as she seeks in the warmth of her two lovers.

Eventually, you wake as well, opening your eyes only to feel that you are still in Wilhemina's lap, Cordelia and the redhead smiling at you as they notice you waking. ,,Good morning sweetie'' the blonde greets you with a warm smile, Wilhemina's features matching the supreme's softness. Remembering the previous night, you can't help but wonder what Cordelia already knew, what Wilhemina may have already shared with her and they can tell by your expression before the blonde cups your cheeks, brushing over them softly with her thumbs. ,,Sweetie it's okay, I understand now'' she explains and Wilhemina's face grows a little anxious, hoping you wouldn't be upset with her but your face is filled with relief, grateful that you wouldn't have to tell them again as last night had drained you enough. ,,I'm sorry'' you whisper guiltily, tugging at your sleeves a little nervously. ,,Sweetie'' Cordelia tries softly ,,You have nothing to be sorry for'' she reassures.

Meanwhile, Billie finally wakes, having heard muffled and whispered conversation, only really picking up the last parts of it. ,,Good Morning Howard'' Wilhemina greets her, noticing her rolling over and moving closer to the three of you. ,,Morning'' Billie mumbles, still a little sleepily smiling at seeing you three so closely. ,,Someone going to fill me in?'' she asks as she presses a kiss to your cheek. Glancing up at Cordelia, she gives you a reassuring smile. ,,How about we do that over some breakfast sweetie?'' she asks, as you stare at her a little anxiously but seeing both Wilhemina and her comforting and reassuring glances you can't help but nod, knowing Billie equally deserved to be filled in.

And somehow today felt a little more manageable, knowing todays conversations would be unpleasant and painful but also knowing you wouldn't have to hide it all, being able to just be yourself in front of them again, which you hadn't been in the longest time. And in their embraces all you can feel is safety as of right now, as Billie scoots a little closer, also wanting to feel her little babydoll close.

[red-dead-scribbles-ff]

Precious Scars | Masterlist

Last Updated: November 23 | 2022

Summary: A bank robbery gone wrong, a seemingly ended - sometimes physical - relationship with the Van Der Linde Gang's enforcer, a new array of body-image issues that you've never had to deal with before... You've got your work cut out for you. Faced with questions about the future and your place in a Gang of outlaws, the complexities that come with an on and off relationship with a wanted man leave much to be desired.

Rating: Mature

Genre/Warnings: Friends w/ Benefits, slow burn, friends to lovers, complicated/secret relationship, denial of feelings, medium!honor Arthur Morgan, fluff, humor, and ANGST /// Implied and mild sexual content, nudity, overall multiple sexual themes (no explicit smut), alcohol consumption, violence, medical trauma (? - not sure how to label that warning but you'll get what I mean).

AO3 Link

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CHAPTER ONE (NEW) CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR AND ON AND ON ETC ETC

[wangxianficfinder]

Mafia / Cop / Detective / Thief

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Cop/Detective

When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (Not Rated, 75k, WangXian, Modern AU, XuanLi, Police, Police Officer LWJ, Medical Examiner WWX, Minor Character Death)

Keep Track of Losing Days by giraffeter (T, 74k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Case Fic, Police, Missing Persons, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Detective LWJ, antifa WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, First Meetings, Seattle, Mutual Pining, nonfatal car accident, mafia wens, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers)

🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder)

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Modern AU, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy, Mojo’s post)

Detective, please. by Pitycup_hearts (T, 124k, WangXian, XueXiao, Modern AU, Paranormal, Detectives, paranormal unit, csi, Crime Fighting, Ghosts, Fluff, Angst and Humor, Thriller, WY doesn't die this time, OOC, plot heavy)

🧡 Where's Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending)

Torch Song at Nightless City by ArcadianMaggie (M, 11k, WangXian, Film Noir, Detective LWJ, Singer WWX, 1940s, Chinatown, San Francisco, Murder Mystery, Noir, Modern with Magic)

hey now by mellowflicker (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Detective LWJ, Mutual Pining, Hurt WWX, Hurt/Comfort, a sprinkle of, Gloves, Major Character Injury)

Good For Betting by ana_cp (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern AU, Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) Fusion, fake date, Police, Getting Together, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Oblivious WWX, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Co-workers, Police Officer WWX, Police Officer LWJ, POV Alternating, Blow Jobs, Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Horny WWX)

critical path analysis by chinxe (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Police, Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU, Pining, Misunderstandings, wwx and lwj are simultaneously the smartest and densest detectives)

Everything’s glacial shine by letterando (T, 3k, WangXian, JC & WWX, WWX & WQ, Modern AU, Bar Room Brawl, Alcohol, Comfort, Fluff, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Pre-Relationship) - modern mundane AU, featuring the Yunmeng Jiang as gentrified river hicks given to daredevil stunts and barroom brawling. Detective LWJ keeps having to drag WWX off in handcuffs, a ritual both enjoy altogether too much. (The author hints at such a rich backstory, with traumatic military service standing in for the Sunshot Campaign, that I hope they someday continue this universe.)

Mafia

LAOZU (1989) by Machinebender (E, 33k, WangXian, Andrey/Goncharov, Modern AU, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Organized Crime, 1980s Shanghai Triads AU, Angst, Oblivious WWX, Goncharov fusion)

Loyalty and Betrayal by VkShinkarenko (E, 100k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Detectives, Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe mafia, Fluff and Smut, Slow Build, Developing Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents, Falling In Love, Domestic Fluff, POV Multiple, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Blood and Gore, Heavy Angst, graphic description of violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Love Confessions, Explicit Sexual Content, also on Wattpad, Lealdade e Traição by VkShinkarenko)

🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

Miscalculated Misreckoning by LadyVamp (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Organized Crime, Attempted Kidnapping, Murder Husbands, Blood and Violence, Violent Sex, Married WangXian, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, Hair-pulling, Office Sex, Desk Sex, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, Dark WWX, Partners in Crime, Gun Violence, Gun Kink, Crime Syndicate Qíshān Wēn Sect, Arranged Marriage, Crime Lord LWJ, Crime Lord WWX)

Say What's In This Drink? by Pancho (E, 2k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Gun Violence, Violence, Mild Blood, Dark LWJ, Organized Crime, Murder, Crime Boss LWJ)

herd 'em like cattle by mdzsed (E, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Blood and Violence, Torture, Murder, Mutilation, Blood and Gore, Age Difference, dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Mafia Boss LWJ, Kidnapped WWX, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Guns, Sexual Assault, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)

Due Process by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 279k, WangXian, XiChengSang, Poly Junior Quartet, Modern AU, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid WWX, WWX identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation)

Take Some Advice Paesano by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 8k, wangxian, modern, mob au, mafia the 🤡 version, humor, mistaken identity, getting together)

You & Me Baby, We'll Eclipse The Sun Series by 2501987 (M/E, 130k, WangXian, XiCheng, MIND THE TAGS, Modern AU, Mafia, Murder husbands, Torture, Possessive Behavior, Blood and Violence, Older JC, Younger WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Dark)

of demons and the good they bring by mimi123meg (M, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mob, Crime Boss LWJ, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JC, Slight Violence, not too graphic, but definitely there, Established Relationship)

You Only Die Twice by Mikkeneko (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Assassins/Spies, Assassins & Hitmen, Mafia AU, Action, Moderate Violence, a lot of people die but no named characters, not exactly lan sect friendly, not exactly lan sect critical either, Assassin LWJ, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, coffee shop meet cute, Let LWJ Say Fucks, lightly cracky, Non-Linear Narrative)

Thief

disappear like smoke by jade token (jianghu) (T, 10k, ZhuiYi, Modern AU, Detectives, Thieves, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan References, Secret Identity, Pre-Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Crossdressing, First Meetings)

The Weight Of A Badge by Pancho (M, 19k, wangxian, 1920s au, femme fatale, genderfluid WWX, cat burglar WWX, detective LWJ, mob au, death, guns, violence, implied/referenced incest, QS lives, pining, YLLZ WWX, angst w happy ending)

(i've got) trouble in mind by seularen (E, 76k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, modern w magic, heist au, thief WWX, forger LWJ, consigliere JGY, epistolary, long-distance relationship, d/d elements, Canon wangxian kinks, happy ending)

Crime & Chaos by NebulusCharlie (Not Rated, 24k, WangXian, Crime AU, Modern AU)

~*~

[sarifinasnightmare]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Have a bomb ass week 🙌🏾

@palettesofrenaissance Okay you got! These are some of my faves. All are on AO3 which you need to be a part of to read these stories.

A Soldier and A Maiden Cross Paths One Night... - Sarah and The Winter Soldier fall in lust with each other while in South America. Action, violence and smut with two different endings!

The Longer Path to Each Other - Inspired by one of the endings from "A Soldier and A Maiden...". Bucky and Sarah meet in Delacroix years later and try to figure out if what they had was love or lust.

But The Memory Remains - Inspired by one of the endings from "A Soldier and A Maiden...". The Winter Soldier breaks all the rules to be with Sarah. AU all the way! This one had a lot of fans.

The Rougarou: A Change of Heart - My first venture into the supernatural/mild horror with Sarah as a medium and Bucky as a werewolf. Also a fan favorite.

Heaven Created You For Love: Because I love opera and this was my version of a love story for Winter Soldier Bucky and soprano singer Sarah. Love, passion and angst ahoy!!