#my husband and i have been slow-cooking this AU for years now. perhaps one day it will come to fruition.

[jhonny]

jojo night at the museum AU, starring divorced night guard jotaro and terrifyingly self-aware painting kakyoin.

one of these days i'll actually get around to writing it.

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (4)

Word Count: ~2.8k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female!reader (she/her), Zhongli/Reader, Zhongli POV, mutual pining ofc, fake politics, can I call this slow burn yet

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Chapter 4 Synopsis: Of the secrets that people keep, how much can they say without saying anything about it at all?

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You are falling for your tutor. That much, at least, is clear to you. Your quickened heart rate, the way your heart flutters when he smiles, and how your mood lifts when he praises you-- if wisdom is to know thyself, then you consider yourself wise enough to know that you see Zhongli xiansheng as more than just a teacher.

But what of him? You wonder, how does he think of you? Does he know what he means to you? Does he feel the same?

“My lady?" Amber asks you, when you dip your head underneath the rose-infused waters of your bath. "What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” you reply back quickly, hugging your knees to your chest. You take a glance at the mauve coat that Zhongli had left on your shoulders and think about how it will still smell like him.

Amber can only look at you in mild concern when you bury your heated face into your hands and try not to think of kind eyes, a warm embrace, and a gentle voice.

(But you do anyway.)

.

.

.

.

Zhongli finds himself talking more freely than ever in your presence, especially now that the two of you have made it a habit of walking around the compound or drinking tea to pass the time together. He talks about fantastical things or expands on random trivia he thinks you would enjoy, even though he finds himself more often than not overindulging.

Your eyes are bright and alert when he tells you about the folktales he had learned when he was younger, so he tells you as many as you can in the cold, wintry months. Under the cozy kotatsu imported over from Inazuma, Zhongli shares slices of mandarin with you as he retells the history of the Qilin to you-- a mythical creature whose stone statues stand at guard in front of the main compounds of the palace.

“In many stories, the Qilin is sacred pets of the gods and rank highly only below the dragon and the phoenix,” Zhongli says, accepting the last slice of fruit you slide into his hands. "It’s said to appear with the imminent arrival or passing of a sage or illustrious ruler."

“I see…” You listen to him attentively, hands absently clearing the table of the orange peels without saying a word. You let out a breath of laughter as you joke, “Hopefully, if I pray hard enough, the Qilin might gift their presence when I ascend to the throne.”

“Nonsense,” Zhongli replies immediately. “If the qilin does exist, you do not need prayer for the qilin to appear before you, as benevolent as you are, my Princess.” He takes the slice and brings it to his lips to taste the sweetness of the mandarin, catching a glimpse at the way you hide your smile behind your hand.

“You have a way with words as usual,” you tell him. “You spoil me with praises, xiansheng; how ever will I survive without them now?” You bemoan, laughing afterwards. Though he knows you’re joking--surely-- he still feels his heart tremble at your words. It is in these moments that he feels keenly how it is to be Amber, abashed by the praise that flows freely from your lips and by the fondness that rings true through the way you speak. To be at the center of your attention is something that Zhongli understands very well to be addicting.

It is only when Zhongli hears the light rapping of knuckles on wood does he realize how long he has spoken and how late it is.

"My apologies," Zhongli says, surprised from his thoughts to bow his head (you fussed at him about apologizing before, but even with your kind reprimands, it is hard for him to kick the habits ingrained in him). "I didn't mean to dominate the conversation this entire time. It's even time for supper--"

"Bamboo Shoot Soup," you pipe up instead, and he can only look up at you stunned as you thank the maid. She sets down the pair of utensils in front of the two of you and clears the table to make space for the large metal hotpot. "It's your favorite dish, isn't it?” You say cheekily, “I thought it was a perfect dish to eat during the cold weather."

What are the protocols to eating dinner with the royal family? Zhongli thinks to himself warily, feeling wildly as though he is constantly stepping out of line despite his learned nature. Still, you would scold him for his distancing, so Zhongli decides to do as the both of you please, as improper as it may be, and waits to be served.

The bamboo soup is beautifully slow-cooked, the broth milky white; just taking a waft of the aroma is enough for him to know that the meat is tender and the bamboo shoots are soaked to the center with flavor. The warmth that pervades is partly due to the fresh heat of the soup but also from the fact that you had remembered a detail he shared in passing. (He says ‘in passing’ but he had gone into detail about where to procure the best ingredients for each component of the meal while you listened to him with eager nods. The bamboo shoots, he recognizes, are from Qingce Village. Did you remember even the smallest details from your conversation when he speaks?) Like many other times before, he is speechless. It seems as though you are constantly surprising him-- for the better.

"What happens next?"

Zhongli blinks, the steam from his bowl rising up to his face. "Pardon?"

"Oh, never mind! We should eat first!" You say, smiling widely in a way that makes his heart leap. You pick up your chopsticks and click them together playfully. "But tell me what happens next in the story later on, Zhongli-xiansheng."

"One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

Zhongli remembers Guizhong telling him this time and time again, though he never believed in it. He is old-fashioned, he always replies back. He is overly burdened by the expectations of his family and passionate in things that most others cannot care to relate to. How would he know that someday, as proof of the wisdom (or perhaps abundance of hope and love) that Guizhong held, he would find someone who cared enough to listen and look at him as though he knew the meaning of life itself?

The bright-eyed gaze you shoot at him lasts only a moment, and perhaps you don't even know the magnitude of your gesture, but Zhongli feels his chest burn nonetheless with gratitude and soften at the kindness you have shown him. He reaches out to place his hand gently on yours. "Thank you," he says, squeezing your hand. "I'll be sure to not lose my place in the story then so you can hear the rest of it."

He blinks when you look at him, frozen and wide-eyed, and that is when he retracts his hand, feeling as embarrassed as you look. "Ah, my apologies again--"

"No, it's-- it's alright," you stammer, looking down at your bowl. Zhongli feels his face redden and he drops his gaze as well. "But yes, you better remember! I'm counting on you!"

"Yes-- yes, of course," he says, clearing his throat. "It would be my pleasure to." Before Zhongli can wallow in mortification, he hears the beginnings of your laugh and looks up to see your smile as wide as ever. And just like that, he can feel himself be at ease again, just as you have always made him feel with your presence.

"Perhaps next time," he says, a small smile dancing on his lips, "my lady can tell me a story instead."

"Only if you fill in the details I missed," you quip back easily, and he laughs.

Even with an impeccable memory, Zhongli still cannot remember the last time he has ever laughed so easily and so readily as though he could never run out of laughter. He thinks of quiet hours in his study, pouring over pages of text without speaking till his voice grows hoarse from disuse. He remembers days of entertaining guests who never truly listened to what he was saying, and he finds that he is the happiest he has ever been for a long time.

He has you to thank for that.

This is why he responds back, with a soft reverence that is reserved only for you. "Of course." He returns your smile with his own. "I would be honored to, my Princess."

.

.

.

Reverence should be a tone well-practiced and used in the royal court, but when Zhongli stands aside during the proceedings, he hears very little of it directed toward you. You have half of the court talking over you despite your grace, and he can clearly see your patience wear thin when your presence goes unacknowledged by one of the court officials.

"My studies have been going steadily," you speak unto the crowd, clearly and powerfully, as though you have always known how to command attention. Projecting your voice, you maintain your gaze on all of them as you speak. Zhongli can see from the way your hands clench at your side that despite your display, fear has not left you, and for that, his pride for you seems to overflow.

"With the xiansheng, I can foresee being able to replace my great uncle for the time before the end of this year," you say. "I will have prepared myself dutifully until the time has come--"

"The end of this year?" One of the nobles exclaims in protest, making you pause. "How would you be ready at the end of the calendar when you have started lessons, not even yesteryear?"

"I can't imagine the magnitude of power placed upon the shoulders of the inexperienced,” another one drawls. “Perhaps, ah, the Princess will consider taking a husband to make up for it?"

Zhongli doesn't realize he's gripping imprints into the palm of his hands until he goes to raise his hand and realizes they have gone numb from his tension. The nerve of some of the nobles-- some of which he can recognize have never sought to be on your side. He wishes nothing more than to be able to provide them a verbal lashing, but he knows that neither you nor he can do anything at this point in time.

With knowledge comes power, and you do not know enough to utilize the title you have nor the inherent authority that comes with it. Though one day, you will, if he can help it, regardless of what has been expected of him.

It makes his skin crawl to know that many nobles look to him and believe he is on their side. How many times have they requested him to keep you away from the main chambers to check on your great uncle? How many times have they hoped he would provide falsities and ignorance in the guise of guidance so that you would never truly ascend to the throne? Even with the promise of power beyond his wildest dreams, Zhongli cannot bring it to himself to manipulate you in such a manner. Even though his hands are clean, he still cannot help but taste sin on his lips for knowing the harm that exists against you without your knowledge.

When is the right time to inform you, if at all? Is it kind or cruel of him to keep this ploy from you? (Is his judgment even sound, as muddled as it is with his rapidly growing feelings for you?)

You narrow your eyes, your lips pressed in a straight line, but you refrain, once again. And Zhongli feels a burst of pride at your show of restraint and composure fitting of a lady of your status. "Yes, this may be one of the things I will take into consideration, and I appreciate--" Zhongli feels himself tense at the way you spoke, "--the counsel of the court, though I still foresee my way coming to fruition regardless."

There is a stilted silence that follows your words, and you look toward the messenger who has come with the land's grievances in letters. "I believe this matter can be discussed at a later time," you say with finality. "Let us look at the first report from the harbor."

Using what you know from your lessons thus far, you guide the conversation towards solutions for the problems brought to the court by the people. You are too inexperienced to make decisions on your own, gathering opinions from your council; corrupt or not, they know more about managing land than you. But Zhongli sees how you watch carefully as the discussion continues, letting the information sink in so that you can utilize it in the future, and he is reminded again of how far you have come from a princess holding that urn to the prospective empress quietly learning how to lead a country.

(Is it any surprise at all that he is enamored with you?)

Court adjourns after hours, and Zhongli follows you as you leave first, your robes billowing behind you seamlessly as you hold your head up high. The guards bow their heads as you pass by them, your ladies-in-waiting slowly retreating from the room when you arrive, closing the door behind them. The moment everyone is gone, you sigh in relief, your shoulders dropping to a more comfortable height as you stretch your arms and legs.

“I applaud you on your conduct during court,” Zhongli says finally, amused by how nonchalant you act in comparison to how high-strung you are in front of others. “That was an impressive display of authority.” He sees your face flush from the compliment as you stammer out your thanks. He chuckles. "Perhaps I should start getting used to calling you 'Empress’ then, Princess.”

"Yes?" Zhongli replies, confused. "Is that not a title you would like to be referred to?"

"'Princess?'" He hears you echo, turning yourself to him, and Zhongli loses his train of thoughts when he sees your expression with brows pulled together, disconcerted. "Just... 'princess?'"

"No--well, yes..." you say, trailing off. Your hand, out of habit, nervously reaches up to fiddle with your brooch. "I was just thinking you would have normally referred to me a little differently is all."

Zhongli tilts his head slightly in thought as he watches you press your lips together in what he assumes to be in embarrassment. Has he been calling you differently without his knowledge? He doesn’t think so; you have always been the Princess for him, and he, your xiansheng.

But, ah, he thinks, he has not always called you ‘my Princess’ has he? (Astonishing what one word can change.)

For a brief moment, Zhongli’s mind wonders whether he has overstepped his boundary, but he quickly reminds himself with your words, that if you truly did not want him to call you by that, you would tell him. The fact you protested at his recent use of your title… It was the slip of the tongue; Amber has referred to you by the same title, and Zhongli has always, in some form, coveted the same level of intimacy that the two of you possessed. His fondness for you must have seeped into his words, and he would never have anticipated having you reciprocate.

That being said, could you blame him for feeling pleased that you wanted to be referred to as his Princess?

“But 'Princess' is fine,” he hears you say, gathering the composure to sweep your hands down your gown and appear nonplussed. You take out your fan and hold it to your face as you begin to walk toward the study. “I don’t mind it. You should call me as you so wish, I--”

Your laughter is enough as a sign of validation, but then he hears you say, shier than you have ever been, “My xiansheng,” and he thinks his heart balloons until it takes up the entire expanse of his chest with how much affection he feels for you.

"It is soon time for our next lessons," he says, following behind you without pause, "my Princess." And he watches, enamored, as you look back at him with a smile blooming on your face. "Is that... alright with you?"

“Yes,” he says to you, feeling as though that is the only thing he can say. You shoot him another captivating smile and turn, and all Zhongli can do is walk only a step behind you.

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.

.

And he follows you for as long as you will allow him, hoping his choice to keep the darkness at bay is the right one.

[ppersonna]

vacancy. - kth (part two)

touch me, yeah. i want you to touch me there. make me feel like i am breathing, feel like i am human - a little death, the neighbourhood

summary- spending the night with taehyung was like standing too close to a fire.  the warmth, pleasant at first, became a ravaging inferno soon after.

rating- R/NC17

word count- 4.8k

pairing- taehyung x reader

genre- smut, angst, fluff- idol!au

warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), slight dirty talk, real emotional shit, creampie, cum eating, real tiny breeding kink if u squint, crying

a.n- okay so the first part was supposed to be a one shot but yall loved it too damn much i had to write another.  this is for u, anons and commenters.  

part one

It had been over a year since you heard from him.  

You were an unwilling audience to his every move, his travels around the world and dazzling concerts seemed to follow you.  His face, that gorgeous and heartbreaking face, was everywhere. Billboards, advertisements, commercials.

It was as if the world was mocking you, reminding you of what you came so close to grasping only to have it fall through your fingers.

You were Icarus; he was your sun. You flew too close on wings of wax, melting against the heat, and fell down into the sea and drowned in your sorrow.

Tae hadn’t called you in over a year now, no communication save for a few ‘likes’ on your twitter, enough to keep you salivating for more.  The last time you fucked him surely had to be the last. It was the only time he’s ever told you he loved you explicitly. All other occasions he would imply it, hint at it, but this time he had come right out and say it.  It must heave meant the ending of it all.

You tried to piece together a life without Tae, while his image and memory of fingertips on bare skin remained burned into your skull.  You were sure Tae was imprinted into your DNA.

The ringing of your phone shot you out of bed at 3 am.  Your heart surged. No one called you at 3 am. No one except him.

“I need to see you tonight,” he breathed. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Tears slipped down your face, your crying clear to the man on the phone.  

“Please, don’t cry, baby.  Let me take care of you.” he whimpered.

You agreed, finding yourself powerless and unwilling to deny him.  You were never successful in the past. Why would it work now? Instead, you could melt away for an hour in blissful escapism.  It was better than lying awake in the middle of the night with heartache.

Taehyung agreed to meet you at your apartment.  It was a first. He usually required a meeting at any of the half-dilapidated motel rooms on the edge of town.  He wanted to hide when he was with you, be away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras. At least, that’s what he told you.

To you, it felt like he was too ashamed to be seen with you.

It felt like hours before the knock came at your door.  It was light, quick. He wasn’t trying to draw attention to himself.  You slipped a black robe over your naked frame. You knew what he wanted, why bother covering it for his sake?  You checked yourself in the mirror of your hallway. No makeup, hair in a messy bun; not the picture of elegance and sex you tried to maintain around him.

He was breathless when you opened the door.  His eyes searched your body and landed on your face as he sighed.  He held so much light optimism in his eyes. You hoped he didn’t see the darkness plaguing your own.

“I miss you,” he whispered as he pulled into your embrace, holding you against him in an innocent hug.  The door shut, and you stood in the hallway with the captor of your heart, soul, hugging him as if letting go meant he would disappear. 

“What’s the matter, Tae?” You questioned, pulling back from his embrace to seek his eyes.  “You never come over here.” Your face flushed. You were embarrassed. You felt more like his call-girl than the woman he claimed to love.

“I needed to see you, so fucking bad,” he pleaded.  “I need to feel you again.”

His lips planted delicate kisses along your throat.  Your eyes closed against the contact of his mouth on your skin.

You wanted to question him more, desperately ask him what had him acting so feverish, so obsessed.

“Can we go to your bedroom? I’ve always wanted to make love to you there,” he admitted, pulling away from your neck and resting his forehead against yours.

Make love.

The very words incinerated your gut.

“M-make love?” you babbled, confusion apparent.  

He nodded. “You didn’t think I stopped loving you, now, have you?”

Instead of letting you answer, he pressed his lips against yours.  His kiss was desperate, aching to draw you in, consume you, become one.  You had never felt this level of passion from him, never felt so desperately wanted.  You didn’t want to admit to yourself how thrilling it felt.  

Could you pretend? Could you imagine that he was taking you to bed after spending all day with you, cooking and cleaning and enjoying your company?  Would it hurt you in the end?

Did it matter? It all would hurt.  You thought you may as well enjoy it in the meantime.

You could easily imagine the press of his lips as a kiss from your boyfriend, your husband, the father of your children.  You had imagined it for years now. The ease in which your mind could slip into the fantasy was downright terrifying, but you found no resolve to stop.

“Let’s go,” you murmured, pulling him down the hallway and towards your bedroom.  Taehyung stopped only a few moments, to take off his shoes, to press you against the wall to kiss you, to gaze at your bedroom decor.

He peered around the room, smiling at the pieces hung and framed on the walls.  Photos of loved ones, framed artwork, a photo of him. A bouquet of roses hung upside down from the ceiling to preserve them, and Tae recognized it as the same he bought you the first time you met.  You had been so full of excitement, never knowing that the promises the man would make would never come to fruition.

You sat at the edge of your bed and allowed Taehyung to absorb the room.  He had known you for over 3 years now and still never seen your house, let alone your bedroom.  A person’s bedroom was a glimpse into their soul, you believed. And it only made sense for Tae to know you, to consume you fully.  You could not fight against him any longer. It hurt too much.

He turned towards you and slid forward, finding himself kneeling between your knees.  He grasped your hands within his own.

It surprised you that Taehyung was not eager to undress you and slip inside you.  He normally wasted no precious time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His brown eyes filled with unspoken regret.  “I’ve treated you so poorly.”

You felt lost for words.  He had never voiced this before, and you weren’t sure why he was now.  Was he ill? Dying?

“Tae, you’re scaring me,” you admitted, nibbling at your bottom lip.

“No, please, I’m sorry,” he released a hand and cupped your face. “Please, don’t be frightened.  I love you.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, tears threatening to spill over now.

“Please, let me show you,” he begged. “Let me prove to you my love.”

You wanted to explain that no amount of sex could prove his love, if it meant he left before dawn.  But you couldn’t find it in you to voice it.

“Okay.”

He kissed at your thighs, innocent pecks around your knees and shins, before working back up towards your barely covered center.  The robe danced on the tops of your thighs, and his deft fingers untied the belt to pull it off.

“It’s been so long, I’m so sorry,” he nearly wept as he pushed your thighs apart to expose what he sought.  “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

His penitent behavior was confusing, yes, but a balm to your aching wounds.  Perhaps you could allow yourself to fully immerse in the vision of your beloved, your committed lover, making love to you.

“Taehyung,” you murmured, lifting his face to look at yours. “It’s okay.”

His eyes, filled with so much emotion and intention, slammed into you like a head on collision.  

Taehyung continued his plight of kisses up and down your thighs.  He gently pushed you down to lie on the bed and pulled your legs open even wider.

“Going to prove how much I love you,” he murmured, reminding himself as much as he was reminding you.  

His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your folds, as if it were an innocent place to peck.  Every move he made was full of sweet intention. He wasn’t here for a quick fuck. At least, that’s what you hoped.  He was here to show his devotion in the way he best knew how to.

“Taeeee.” Your sigh was light and lovely to his ears.  

“Let me adore you tonight, my love,” he murmured before diving in to kiss at your clit.  It overwhelmed you immediately, missing the touch and skill of the man now devouring your core as if it were his last.  

He dipped and swirled his tongue around the engorged numb, ravishing it with his tongue.  You were so responsive, so sweet in his mouth and in his ears. You tasted like champagne.  He adored that about you.

He pressed on, allowing himself to make love to your folds with his mouth with no abandon.  He suckled your clit, massaged it with circular strokes, dipped a curious tongue in your wet channel, and slurped in such a vulgar way it had you gasping.  

Tae was skilled with his mouth, he had proven that over the many years, but now he inhaled you.  He left no part of your cunt untouched, unloved. His fingers slid into your heat to reach where his tongue could not.  He needed to see you come undone by his love, alone.

You were so vocal in your replies to him.  Soft screams, gasps, whimpers. You twisted at your nipples, desiring the stimulation that came from the pain.  He watched you eagerly, mouth still working overtime to bring you to completion. You were artwork, the finest and most priceless.  You deserved to feel beautiful, and loved and he desired to give you it and more on a silver platter.

“Right there,” you whispered through harsh pants.  The edge of your orgasm was approaching, threatening to spill over.  Tae refused to slow down, and engaged himself more acutely to your trembling quim.  He sucked onto your clit harshly, swirling it in his mouth as he fucked you with three fingers.  You coated him, completely. He wanted to leave your essence on him forever.

“Yes, cum,” he coaxed.  “Cum for me, love.” His eyes were brimming with fire, with passion.  

A zigzag motion of his tongue and quick curl of his finger towards your front walls sent you careening over the edge of pleasure.  You cried out loud, tears slipping down your cheeks in sheer amazement of the sensation coursing through your veins, through your cunt.  You milked him eagerly, muscles pulling his fingers in to you. You never wanted to retreat from your high, head spinning in the clouds. Your walls clenched in time to the pounding drum in your ears.

Tae lapped at the slick that coated his fingers, cleaning up any mess that might have been left on the sheets.  He wanted every single ounce of you. 

You came back to reality to find Tae sucking on his fingers, a salacious smile on his face as he continued without stopping.

“The sweetest,” he complimented, removing the cleaned fingers with a ‘pop’. 

The prettiest blush Tae ever saw tickled your cheeks.  He was determined to see that again before the night was through.

He kissed up the valley of your thighs and peppered kisses and bites to your abdomen and ribs.  He marked you, feeling as if he was sacrificing to the pyre of your solicitude. He trailed to your breasts, sucking on the pinched nipples, encouraging more moans to slip through your pink lips. 

Your hand immediately flew to his silken locks, threading through to grasp yourself to reality. Your chest still heaved with the aftershocks of powerful completion.  He sucked and bit at the nipples so hard they darkened with bruises, blood blooming just under the surface of the skin. They told a story; you thought. A story of desperation, wanting to give a piece of you and maintain a piece of him.

You were desperate to get him naked, feel the satiny smooth skin of his chest and length.  You tugged at his t-shirt and easily complied, allowed the material to slide up his chest and onto the floor.  He kissed your lips, a hand still stroking and teasing a nipple. 

Tae’s eye contact had you mesmerized.  He was hypnotizing, and you were sure you’d never felt such an intense connection in any coupling you’d had together.

After discarding his shirt, you moved to tug at his jeans.  Tae didn’t want to put up a fight tonight, didn’t want to tease out anything when he’d rather give in to you.  He assisted you in your fight against the denim confines and pushed them down with his boxers.

Your eyes widened at his speed, knowing Taehyung aimed to make you work for his nakedness.  Now, he gave in at your simplest request.

He couldn’t stop kissing your lips.  He felt like he would cease breathing if he wasn’t attached to your mouth.  He mumbled his love against you, his words circling your body and sliding into your cunt with how good they sounded.  You were sure that Tae could coax an orgasm out of you with the rich baritone of his voice alone.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered and kissed at your cheeks and jaw.  “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to prove it.”

He guided his cock to your folds.  He allowed the head to graze your slit, weeping with your first orgasmic ruin.

“I love you, Taehyung,” you murmured and kissed him soundly.  At the touch of your lips, he slipped his cock inside your quim, tensing around him.  He delighted in the gasp against his lips, feeling just as enthralled by the sensation.  Your muscles squeezed around his length, wrenching a loud groan from him and pulling his lips away to watch the way your pussy took him.  He wished he could take a video, commit this moment to memory somehow. The way you accepted him, allowed him respite inside the safety of your womb, captivated him and made him weak.

 Taehyung started a quick thrusting rhythm, holding you tight against him as you mewled your satisfaction and confessed your undying ardor for the idol plunged in your depths.

“My sweet, I never want to leave you,” he whispered. “I would stay buried in you every single day if I could.”

His words hit you like a piercing arrow.  A clean stab through you, no shrapnel, no fallout.  If this was to be the way you died, you welcomed it with open arms.

Tae’s cock filled you to the brim and his gyrations made your clit feel as if it was vibrating.  His thickness stretched you to the limit. 

He looked back into your eyes, memorizing every freckle and feature of your face, and never allowed himself to break away from your gaze.

He loved you.  He loved you so intensely it scared him.  What started as a fun romp behind locked doors became the ultimate expression of his desire to complete you, to allow you to own his body and soul. You ensnared him, and Tae was loath to escape the silky tendrils you had wrapped around his heart.

He quickened his pace, angling his hips to hit the spot within you he knew would make you arch and keen for more.  You did so, proving his theory, and gasped his name, begged for more. He trailed a finger over your combined coupling, feeling the way his cock speared into you and retreated, covered in your slick.  He paused there, relishing in the feel, before slipping up to your clit to tease figure 8’s around the nub.  

The pleasure coursing through you felt like an electrical storm.  Every ounce of practiced pressure he applied to your body felt amplified, raging like thunder.

You wanted Tae’s cock to stay within you, never retreat, never escape.  You gasped as his finger trailed over your clit and up and down your slit.  Your eyes were bawling tears now, overwhelmed by desire and passion and unadulterated love.  Tae had fucked you, Tae had given you nights of endless pleasure. Now, you knew, Tae was making love to you, with you.  His member was not just fucking into you, but affixing all the pieces of your broken heart together again. He maintained eye contact with you, never straying.  It was intense; it was exhilarating. 

Kim Taehyung loved you.  You no longer doubted it, no longer second-guessed.  There were still too many unanswered questions, but you solved the largest piece.  Taehyung was in love with you, and there was no way you would forget it.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching again, threatening to knock you over.  You babbled his name, crying against his lips as he kissed you thoroughly.

“I love you, I love you,” he repeated, constantly.  “Cum for me. Please cum for me.”

It was as if he only needed to ask, because your body complied immediately.  Your back arched impossibly high as you rode through the contractions and pulses.  Tae moaned with you, gasping at how tight you clamped around his cock, how deliciously you molded around his entire length.  You looked beautiful, falling apart by him and him alone. You were his, as much as he was yours. He could never stray far for long.

Your pussy was overstimulated, incredibly so, but the desire to push Tae to his own end overpowered any other desire.  You held his gaze intensely, rocking your hips to meet his.

“I’m in love with you, Tae,” you whined at his quick pace.  “Please cum inside me. I want to feel you in me always.”

A guttural groan left his throat as he chased after it, a punishing speed thrusting into your spent heat.  He could feel how wet you were now, two orgasms slicking around him and squelching loudly in the otherwise silent room.  He wanted you full, not losing a drop of him. If he could stuff you full, and seal you up to save him forever, he would.  

His orgasm took him quickly, with surprise.  He emptied his load into you, and you cried at the warmth flooding your womb.  You encouraged him, sighing out your pleasured approval.

He pulled himself out of you, cock softening rapidly.  A trail of his seed followed, and Taehyung frowned. That wouldn’t do.

He slithered down your body, face to face with your abused cunt.  He lapped at the mixed fluids with his tongue, pushing it into your cunt with the appendage.  

“Need you full of me,” he murmured, savoring the taste of your combined love.  “Keep it in you all night.”  

He propped your hips with a pillow, lifting you so not to spill another ounce of him from within you.  A deep down thought occurred that he wanted you pregnant, wanted to come home to you swollen with milk and children.

You cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around him.  You couldn’t remember being as happy as this before. A sense of contentment and elation wrapped around you like a soft blanket.  

“I love you, I love you,” was all you heard before you drifted off to sweet, blissful sleep in the arms of your lover.

The bed was empty when you awoke.  It had been made. The signature note laid gently, accusingly, on the pillow.  You almost didn’t want to read it.

‘Meet me at the motel room we first met tonight at 9 pm. Xoxo’

It was the first time he had written without pouring out his love and adoration for you.  The note was simple and without flowy prose.

It intrigued you.

You found yourself at the lowly, country inn on the side of the highway.  It was in the middle of nowhere. You pressed your back against your car, throwing your cigarette down to smash it with your foot.

The room was unlocked when you twisted the handle.

Taehyung sat on the bed, forlorn and lost.  He had never gotten to a room before you. He always ensured to be last.

He melted at the sight of you, composed facade crumbling in front of you.  He approached you and cried into your neck. You held him, confused and concerned, raking your fingers through his hair as comfortingly as possible. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried.

“Taehyung! What is going on!?” 

He glanced up at you, his beautiful face marred by tears.

“My agency,” he croaked.  “They know about us. They’re making me move from Seoul immediately.  I don’t know when I can return.”

You felt your heart stop beating completely.  The world stopped turning.

Agency.  Found out?  Had he been keeping you a secret to allow your romance to continue?  He appeared devastated by the news. More than someone involved with a simple fuck buddy should be.

“Is-..is that why you always wanted to meet me at a motel?” You questioned, forcing yourself to breathe.

He nodded. “I tried so hard to protect you, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It all made sense.  Didn’t it? Taehyung wasn’t hiding you away because he was ashamed of you.  He hid you away, in the places no one would find you because he knew the consequences would be dire.  He knew the reputation they forced him to maintain as an idol did not lend itself to a secret girlfriend.  Careers had been ruined by it alone.

“Fuck,” you gasped, pulling the thin man up from your neck to look him in the eyes.  “I thought you did it because you were ashamed of me.”

His eyes widened.  Even when broken and crying, he still looked so beautiful.

“What? No! Oh, my god,” he gasped. It was all clicking into his mind too.  “Fuck, I’m so sorry. You thought-... all this time that I was ashamed. That I was leaving you every morning because I didn’t want you?  I thought you knew...”

You shook your head.  He clung to you tighter.

“Oh, my god.  And the notes.”  He felt abysmal, guilt tearing at his throat.  “I’m… fuck, I’m so sorry. You always told me you hated it when I left.  I left before they would notice I was missing, and come to search for me. I couldn’t let them know about you.  I couldn’t risk losing you. I can’t believe I’ve put you through this.”

You held onto Tae like your last lifeline.  It all made sense now. All the whispered sonnets, murmured epithets of love and desire, devotion and romance, were true.  He meant them all. While you stewed in your suffering, you didn’t realize that he was hiding you away until he could have you fully, completely, without fear of retaliation from agency or fan alike.

“I love you, Taehyung,” you whispered, kissing at his tear-streaked cheeks.

“I love you, too,” he replied.

You knew you’d never tire of hearing it.

Months later, you packed up your belongings from the dumpy motel room, shoving them into a suitcase.  

Taehyung had fucked you on every surface of the room, the grimy bathtub, bent over the broken desk, against the sagging wallpapered wall.  

You were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk. When you awoke, you felt the delicious tingle of pain between your thighs, body marked with his lovebites.

A note had laid on the pillow beside you as you opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep from them.  The bed was made on his side. The room was empty.

‘Left to grab coffee.  Pack up and let’s go home when I get back. Love you forever.’

You exited the room and closed the door behind you, smiling at the sound of the clicking lock.

You glanced back at it; the room holding too many memories of heartbreak and passion.  It was impossible to distinguish between the two.  They intertwined like lovers.  

Taehyung appeared beside you, hand slipping into yours as he handed you a steaming paper cup of coffee.

“You ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ready,” you agreed.

You drove from the motel, back towards the towering skyline of Seoul, away from the degenerate motel room.

The room that would never see the two of you again and always remain

vacant.

[lemonietrinket]

Traditions ||| Prince!Yeosang x Princess!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, a bit of angst but a happy ending Warning(s): inferences to death (succession) and natural disaster tragedy  Word Count: 4005 AN: Happy Birthday Yeosang blessed elfin prince. Just thinking about how princely he appears was the only inspiration for this entirely. you can tell i find yeosang beautiful and i will not apologise for that. feminine-presenting Reader Royalty AU

~~~

Wind whistling outside the murky visage of dark stained glass, you made your way through the long corridors to the dining hall. The cold air that nipped at your cheeks was only rebuffed by the delicately carved firebrands that lined the walls, hooded by rouge. 

Even though you wished you had taken Beatrice up on her suggestion that you wear a dress that would match one of your several coats, you couldn’t say you entirely regretted your decision. The way the silver tresses that entwined across your waist was worth the goosebumps beneath long draping sleeves. The amaranthine shine gave you the firm yet free light that reflected in your eyes, gracing all who could see with not only your true colours but also a sight for sore eyes. You’d always suited the soft violet silk, for years having been a private signature that made you feel unique behind closed doors. It did not provide its own form of stability to the people, however, quite like the vermilion did. Knowing that in these times they needed it in every capacity, you garbed yourself in red for the world, while violet remained a treat.

Besides, you knew there was another benefit to the tremors of shiver that ran up your spine and pooled at your exposed shoulders.

Taking the last corner you could finally see the large oak doors that led into the hall in the dim light. They were closed, but a thin sliver of gold broke through their seal, its promise of food inviting you in. However, a few feet away from the corridor’s end, something else stole your attention entirely. A shimmer of auburn in the thick of the night.

Distracted you slowly made your way over to the nearest window, excitement pooling in your chest and fluttering like a bird wishing to be set free.

one pair of small but intricate heels that had been clicking against the rich wood behind you suddenly slowed. Peering back without hesitation, you saw your second lady in waiting’s grin glimmer in the auburn light as she skipped to the nearest window.  Forcing yourself to look beyond the hazy reflection of yourself, you chased the lucrative gold that pierced the night. Your eyes began in the wrong place, too high, where the road began to sink into the distance, but they quickly trailed down to the castle-side, where you spotted, far below, a carriage flickering beside firelight. A warm smile you’d come to know well warmed upon your lips.

“He’s early,” you announced to the air, feeling slightly guilty when the guard stood firmly by the door offered you a startled look

“Who is, Your Royal Highness?” he stuttered, a panicked undertone as he assumed that you’d been talking to him.

You chuckled, feeling relieved as he visibly relaxed, “Why, Graves, my husband of course!” It was clear that he tried to hide the surprise in his expression, not realising that he shared with you.

“I know, absurd right?” you said, sweeping over to the door as he returned your grin at last, before imploring to him in a whisper, “I won’t eat you, Graves, I promise. I’m not like my father.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” He bowed in acknowledgement.

Praying that the interaction would dispel any residing fears, you passed through into the dining hall, tall and imposing. You hadn’t liked it all that much, it was too tall and grand, with chandeliers the size of sleeping quarters and columns whose cracks were filled with molten silver. It was a bit much, especially just for a place to eat, but you knew how much worse it could be. You’d seen your older sister’s, you’d seen the drapes of handwoven silk cast in bright crimson and the intricacies of the hand-carved floorboards, dictating the legends of the early days. As vulgar it was, it was how your father built castles for his kingdom, and it was no wonder that it would be the one you would inherit. 

Ignoring the painted ceiling you ran your eyes along the long mahogany table at the numerous platters dotted across its surface at both ends, lids retaining heat and disguising the beauty inside. You wondered why they always made so much for you when you never ate it anywhere near it all.  The firelight from the large hearth that filled the room with a homely scent of warmth and tranquil danced across the varnished floor, painting it with muffled shades of gold and pink. And there, on the other side of the hall was a shadow that disjointed said light.

Tilting your head up confidently, your fingers interlinking at your waist, you found the man who you had waited for every time, waiting for you.

Having shed his onyx coat and draped it across the back of his chair, you were blessed with just how well suited the deep azure of his kingdom. The satin across his back almost glittered in the light, adorning his neck that craned to let him look off to the left. His shirt was tucked neatly into black leather trousers, that you caught yourself staring at for way too long for the ‘checking for stains’ excuse to run even now (you were pretty sure he hadn’t believed the excuse in the first place anyway, but he hadn’t asked you to stop nor ever brought it up again, and you were pretty sure you’d caught him a few times staring at you so, who were you to complain?) that then slipped into comfortable laced boots. He had to have changed, he couldn’t have possibly worn them outside in such poor weather, and the thought just added to how your heart fluttered—he didn’t have to dress up at all, especially since he would have to go out again tomorrow.

His hand lifting from his hip, he removed his sword in its scabbard and leant it against the wall, before finally turning around.

Even at such a distance you were awestruck. Those gorgeous eyes that stared so knowingly at the world now gazed over at you, leaving you feeling a new shade of vulnerable that had taken a while to get used to, but now you weren’t sure you could live without. As with that vulnerability came his gentleness, the curve of his full lips that uttered sweet things despite his stoic nature, and the touch of his hand that rose to meet yours when you addressed the people. He had confused you at first, worried you the next as neither of you spoke. Now you understood his insecurities and threw any misinformed regrets to the side. Now you could see how his hair seemed to effortlessly curl to frame his face but also to carry a crown. 

His fringe then was mottled with damp, his hat adorning the chair with his coat having had only so much success protecting him from the rain. But he still looked ethereal as he always did, and sounded it too.

“Your Royal Highness,” he greeted as he was taught, a deep bow with his hand pressed to his heart. Even though the awkwardness had subsided between the two of you, you still greeted each other like this, despite what you’d discerned. 

“Your highness,” you returned, unable to hide your wince. Why couldn’t you greet each other like you wished you could? Ignore the rings on your fingers and the arrangements made by family and do it all properly.

He smiled at you and waited for you to take your seat, deep eyes following your every move. You sighed mentally, feeling the small doubts begin to regrow in your mind. Perhaps you’d misjudged entirely and your affections led you to just reach into the dark and cling to the first light that appeared.

Taking your seat, your eyes not leaving his, he at last drew his chair back at the opposite side of the table. You let him get comfortable before removing the closest lid to reveal a huge portion of neatly sliced venison seasoned with a variety of spices and coupled with copious vegetables—half of which you didn’t recognise. It smelt delicious and you took the cutlery into your hands, but with your mind preoccupied with another important matter you didn’t feel like eating at all.

While you ran the sharp edge of your knife across the tender flesh, Yeosang tucked straight in, not that you blamed him. His journey home had been long, sustained mostly on fish that would only remind him of home—that and your cooks being truly something special.

“So, dear husband,” you announced across the long table with a coy smile, timing your words just right so he would have his mouthful when he had to answer you, “how was your trip outside Cresciel’s borders?”

“Hmm...” He noticed the mischief in your lips, opting to take his time mulling your question over as he chewed even slower than before. It was moments like these, where he played along with you and teased in return, that questioned whether doubts should be sown. “It was long, mostly tedious. Earl of Blouze is an utter nightmare.”

“As usual,” you chuckled, the same mix of sympathy and humour bubbling in your chest as when you had found out who he would be travelling with. Yeosang hadn’t found it amusing and had sulked for the rest of the afternoon while the packing began. He looked adorable with a pout on his lips though, and you only cooed at him six times. “And Caillteo?”

He nodded. “Recovering well for how much damage was done. The mines are back up and running again, a good harvest this autumn and they’ll be back on their feet without aid. The people are still on edge but they seem hopeful, and you were right, Caillteoans are tough: they’ve leapt into construction and sharing resources between themselves fairly.”

“That’ll be Xena’s example,” you noted, taking a sip of your drink. Surprised at the sweet kick, you coughed before laughing at yourself, “they’re always leading by example—I’m fine Yeosang, really.”

You spotted the worry in his expression through how it turned blank. He’d explained it to you, bathed in the gold of the afternoon sun that did little to ease his mind. He didn’t want to panic the person in concern anymore than they perhaps already were. That had been the day where you’d run your fingers through his hair, locks smooth as silk and scented of the roses found on the mountainsides. He had softened in your embrace, letting you hold him delicately in the peace of the royal garden, closing his omniscient eyes that were cursed to catch too much. It had proven that just trying to be the stable option for the nation resulted in a chaos of the mind.  You wished he would rely on you more. You were used to it, your sister confided with you her plans to disappear, your mother on the will, your cousins when they visited. You didn’t get the choice in some of those circumstances, but you were willing to take on what Yeosang needed. 

You felt heat flush to your face. Since when had you become so attached to him? This hadn’t been what you had expected to happen at all.

“Yes, they truly are. I listened to their grievances, they were furious at how little respect they had received from Cruter, and extremely thankful for the aid we sent them. It was vital for them to get the waterways up and running again, otherwise it would have flooded the sewage system further and...” he came to an unexpected halt, as if a weight had rolled onto his tongue and forced it still. You placed your knife upon the plate quietly, inclining to listen to what finally followed. 

“Yeosang?” you murmured, though due to the distance you couldn’t be sure he even heard it.

“...Xena was glad to see where my allegiances laid, that seeing me gave them and Caillteoans hope. They wanted me to make it clear to you that their kingdom’s alliances are with you—us—alone.”

“They’ve turned away from your grandfather completely?” You couldn’t hide the surprise that filtered into your voice, but watched him carefully as you spoke in response to it. “He’s turned his most loyal—?”

“It’s what he deserves,” Yeosang interrupted, eyes turned towards his food. He’d paused eating, a cut of meat levied on his fork and he stared it down as if it were Cruter himself, “and I think they know how my father’s reign is going to go.”

He took the bite as if out of spite, digging in thoroughly once again. Meanwhile you were left frowning. “Have they managed to predict Idina too, do you think?” After he didn’t respond, you straightened your posture, worry beginning to sink in. “Yeosang? I don’t rule Cresciel yet, and if the plan falls apart I won’t have much power at all! A-as far as anyone else is aware, my sister is going to inherit the—”

“I don’t know,” he finally replied with the shake of his head, his frown mimicking yours, “that’s all they said.”

With eyes met across the vast mahogany dotted with silver and the firelight, silence seeped into the room, only dispelled momentarily by the crackle of flames. 

Your thoughts gathered in your brain, clustering and talking over one another, interjecting and splitting, producing more and more like a disease.  If others could work it out then it would only be a matter of time before your father would, and that would put both your sister and you in danger. Even being a beacon of calm for the future to the people and surrounding kingdoms wouldn’t be enough to hold your plans together, and if things went truly wrong, not only would you be at huge risk of losing your husband and all the arrangements your marriage made, but there would also be mayhem for the innocents you had subtly promised would be safe.

Your breath came out ragged and you swallowed it to steady. The situation was sticky, but you would pull through. You’d make it work. The King of Caillteo was on your side, and that strengthened what you had. Cruter could hardly have endeared himself to his subjects through his ignorance towards the tragedy—especially since word carried that the angered storm had affected the outer towns upon his Siyanirean borders too. With that in hand and your plan just in the waiting process, it wouldn’t be long before Yeosang was King in his grandfather and father’s stead and the kingdoms were united, working peacefully instead of warring like they always did.

Digging your nails into your palms, you wondered why your nerves wouldn’t simmer down. You’d gone over the plan hundreds of times, and things were moving in your favour—both should have eased the sudden attack of worry. But they didn’t, and you were left with bruise-purple divots in your palms, and quivering fingers. You wanted them to be held still, you didn’t like the sight of them fragile. You wanted to be held, by Yeosang—no other would do, as no one else understood it all. He was the only one who knew the details of the full plan, knew what the pressure was like. But he was on the other end of the table.

It seemed ridiculous that a table and a (comparatively) short distance was holding you back. There were no physical barricades, the grandiose chairs tucked in neatly, the food too cold to even eat and get you to stay. Yet, even though your feet twitched, your body didn’t move to go to his side and ask for comfort, like you’d given to him that golden afternoon before.

“Did you miss anything,” your mouth spoke out of the blue, “while you were gone?”

Had your husband looked up he would have noticed the disjoint between your calm tone and your stony expression. But he didn’t, not yet. 

“Not my ship if that’s what you’re asking,” he retorted, assuming you were teasing him once again. After finishing another bite you stared as his face softened, “Though I guess I missed some company.” When you didn’t speak up, voice trapped in your throat as your brain ticked over what he meant, he continued, “The nights were cold, so I thought I missed the warmth of here. They were also quiet, and so I thought I missed the sounds of here but... the more I thought about it, the more I realised that this castle is just as quiet as the other ones I stayed in, and when I added blankets it made no difference. 

“And then I had to speaks to others and, well... every time I met with the nobles, it felt as if they looked down on me, as if I wasn’t really one of them despite my claim. I knew it shouldn’t surprise me, as my grandfather is, well, my grandfather and no one knows just how poor my father’s health is but... even the people didn’t believe I was the real deal, and they were the nice ones. Others I’m sure couldn’t comprehend I was capable of making a difference at all.”

As he trailed off, with your eyes hazy you countered plainly. “And you wanted me there so they somehow wouldn’t? If I was there they wouldn’t look at you at all.” You would have winced at the harshness of your words, consoled him with an apology and the distraction of food or a change of scenery, but you didn’t. You cursed yourself for being selfish.

Yeosang however didn’t seem to take it to heart, trying to explain clearer. “No I mean... it’s easier to chase the doubts of my own abilities away with you at my side. Because you believe in me.”

After cleaning his plate his pretty eyes flicked up to take you in at last, only to become flecked with worry. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Debating and answer in your head you remained silent, gaze dropping to your lukewarm food without a single chunk missing. Clutching your hands together in your lap in an effort to control the quiver in them, you avoided his stare. “I really mean that much to you?”

Out of your peripheral you caught his nod. “Of course. You’re my closest friend, my rock, I don’t think I could have ever succeeded like this without you.”

You peered up at him at last, to catch the sincerity on his features. The apples of his cheeks had a blushed hue, so did the tips of his ears. But you couldn’t make out the etches upon his lips, or the birthmark adorning the corner of his eye. He was too far away, all because of stupid rules. “Then why are you so far away?” you poised.

There was a heavy silence that seemed to even mottle the crackling in the hearth. Your gaze trailed over to the dancing flames, warm and dynamic like the flushes of first love—like your heart.

“Because I didn’t think you wanted me any closer.”

Your head whipped up to him as soon as his words graced the air and the creak of wood scraping across wood resonated through the floor. Yeosang, with footfalls cautious, was making his way across the dining hall towards you. You straightened your back, mouth agape but with no words to fill the space.

Even though it felt like the journey took hours, he was suddenly at your side, brow creased with concern as he placed one hand tentatively on the back of your chair. 

“Y/N, I...”

“I missed you too.”

Chin tilted up you took in the sight of the man you had married properly. How his jaw curved, how his chest rose and fell as he breathed, how his hair slowly fell out of place to cover his eyes while he peered down at you. Months of past worry trickled through from your subconscious as you remembered the anxieties you’d had about your marriage. You trusted your mother’s decision, but that didn’t mean you didn’t interrogate yourself nightly on whether you could be happy being married to a man you didn’t love romantically, one that you didn’t desire sensually. 

You hadn’t slept the night before the castle doors opened to welcome in your chosen suitor. You’d been informed it was a tough and arduous selection process but you had blanked most of it out. With a stone-set face you had been helped into a dress of your sister’s—flowing scarlet with gold lace at the neck—before adorning your neck with an amethyst necklace despite the advice you were offered. Then you took those wide grand stairs down to where your soon-to-be fiance waited, arm interlinked with your sister’s. She had smiled and said something to you, but you hadn’t paid any attention—this time for a good reason.

After days on end of worrying, you were confronted with a meek young boy who could easily have been mistaken to be years younger than you. Garbed in rich navy, he stood prostrate at his father’s side, his posture displaying confidence as he was instructed while his stare flit upon the engraved ground.  When you had taken the final step and swept across the varnished pearl beneath your feet your families greeted heartily while you stared at the boy who eventually worked up the courage to stare back. ‘He isn’t real’, had been the first thought to flash in your mind. After all he had full cloudy cheeks and wide set dark eyes that made him look as if he was borne of another realm. You wondered if the pink blemish upon his temple was a sign of that: a deity’s way to prove that he was in fact human and not an angel. Eyeing him up and down you had found a body just out of proportion to be considered finished, but you guessed he would grow, and fit his elfin face one day in the future.  Overall, he had washed your worries away and replaced them with a newfound curiosity that you hadn’t mentioned to him before.

Of course, you had been right, he did grow. His shoulders broadened and chest filled out while his cheeks retained the majority of their softness. He grew then to become more open, a smile flourished on his lips and once that happened it was only a matter of time. Regardless, despite all his changes that young boy was still there, still watching carefully, even now.

Yeosang stood at your side quite like he had done all those years ago—back rigid, eyes trailing away from where he wanted to focus them. And it softened your heart, practically turned it to pulp, when he finally spoke in a voice completely different to the boy from your past, “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

You watched as he bit his lip disappointedly, as if he’d admitted something wrong. 

“Me too,” you breathed, dispelling his worry and turning it into a startled expression as you stood with him. Your fingers came up to his collar, straightening it out absentmindedly as you met his eyes properly this time. “Forget the rules, forget the traditions, Sangie?” you suggested in a whisper.

He nodded, a smile rising to his lips so bright that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands gently, he dipped in to let your lips finally meet, a hum bubbling through your chest in satisfaction. He was finally close to you, and he felt so different from what you’d imagined. His embrace pulling you close he radiated warmth. His lips tasted of the berries that he had drank and his touch was so fluid and soft across the skin of you back. You didn’t mind, you liked how wrong you were. 

Because he kissed you just like the tradition didn’t dictate, and though it had been the arrangements of others that brought your love to you, it was time to do it your way.

~~~

AN: I was going to make yn a duchess bc like princess is overdone and then i got confused and like shite just bc im british doesnt mean i understand the royal family one bit, let alone the hierarchy of titles

so yeah yn is a princess wbk

also this is much longer than the other presents only bc i got carried away i realise i like royal aus and this just wrote itself i promised myself i wouldnt do this with bday presents but oop

any names of the staff at the royal household were randomly generated place names were made using various words put into indifferentlanguages.com +  the word combiner on wordunscrambler.net (so any resemblance to rel places is unintentional)

(also none of yeosang’s relations are based on any of his real family of course, theyre just made up. i imagine yeosang loves his family very much and so this is just creative license)

~~~

Masterlist

[myhero-myfanfic]

Royalty AU - Knight Katsuki Bakugou x Reader (1/3)

I’ve had this idea for so long! Hope you like it. :) There will be three parts to this one!

---

Katsuki knelt before your father, an unusually blank expression adorning his pretty features. You thankfully were able to hide the smirk that threatened to creep out when you pictured his anger if you dared to call him 'pretty' out loud.

Your father, the king, gently pressed the tip of his sword upon each of his shoulders before asking him to stand. The blonde knight did so, bowing profusely in respect.

“Katsuki Bakugou, I have had the great pleasure of seeing you train and hone your combat skills over this past decade, and I can think of no better man to watch over my daughter in the long months ahead.” Turning, he addressed the congregation that were seated in the great hall with them, including many high class people from your kingdom.

“Tomorrow our beautiful princess leaves us-” At this you ducked your head with a sweet smile in a show of modesty, and out of the corner of your eye you could swear you caught a glimpse of a smirk and amused red eyes.

“-In search of a suitable prince to bring home. It is with a deep sadness but an immense pride that I send her on this journey. I trust she will find someone capable of ruling in the days to come where I cannot. I cannot wait to see who you choose, darling.”

Precisely on cue you stand from your small throne, the silky folds of your dress falling to flow across the floor like water as you stride over and take your father's hand. You lean up to kiss his cheek before bowing into a low curtsy to your people, thanking them and wishing everyone well.

With that, your father called forth the servants with many platters full of beautifully cooked food- delicious looking mutton legs, sweet golden corn with soft silk that tickled your fingers, and mouth watering tarts covered in your favorite berries.

You sat gracefully next to your newly appointed knight, making a show of taking small portions of everything. The only one who saw you sneak several tarts into a napkin for later was Katsuki, and he hid his laughter in a large bite of a turkey leg.

“Always so greedy princess...” He snickered, making sure to speak lowly and barely moving his lips. “Some things never change. Soon you'll be bursting out of that dress like a stuffed sausage.”

To his credit, he hid his pain well when you slammed your pointy heel down on his foot beneath the table.

“Watch it, you pompous ass. You are stuck with me the next few months and I could definitely make sure we never eat anywhere that serves meat...”

His jaw ticked as he snarled another threat back, and soon you two were bickering animatedly to one another- all while keeping calm smiles and not looking directly at one another. It was your unspoken agreement. No one would exactly approve of the... casual way you spoke to one another.

“Pack some tarts for the road as well- maybe if you shove some down your throat when you meet the princes, they won't realize what a loud bitch you are.”

“Perhaps you should pack that turkey bone, maybe then you could fool a maid into touching your trousers.”

Things had always been this way, ever since you had met as children. Katsuki had been brought to the castle when he'd shown remarkable fighting capabilities in front of some palace guards. Your father's knights had trained him for many years to be your protector and as such, you had grown rather close. The first time you had met, you'd been blown away by his tales of growing up in the village. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, you'd listened with full attention as he puffed out his little chest and proudly told you about all the times he'd fought off robbers and ruffians to protect other young girls. In hindsight, all fake, but as a child you were mesmerized.

“Hey,” He had said, suddenly looking shy. “Wanna see something cool?”

He'd helped you slip away from the guards, leading you outside and far out into the woods behind the castle. The two of you spent hours playing in the leaves and dirt, chasing one another and yelling silly things that only make sense to kids. Katsuki showed you how to climb trees, laughing at you every time you slid down and got frightened by the height. Still, he slowed down for you and helped you when you couldn't go further up on your own.

It came to an end sadly when you took a tumble off a low branch and fell to the ground below, knocking the wind out of yourself and scratching up your soft palms. He'd carried you, both of you crying and upset, all the way back to the throne room. One of the knights had immediately grabbed him and was threatening to drag him to the dungeons when you turned to your father and spoke up for your friend.

“I'm sorry daddy, I thought he'd like the trees.” Your new friend tried to interject, but you kept going. “It's my fault, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to worry you!”

Your father had believed you and scolded you until you glowed red with embarrassment, but he'd spoken softly to Katsuki and thanked him for bringing you quickly home to be healed. Before you went to the apothecary for potions, you'd turned around and flung yourself at him to hug him good bye.

You could still remember the way he'd blushed and stared at you when you embraced him, and it never failed to bring a smile to your face.

The party was still going strong when you slipped away outside into the gardens. You knew them like the back of your hand, stepping through the labyrinth of hedges like you yourself had planted them.

Coming to your favorite spot, the fountain near the center, you sat upon the edge and slipped your shoes off so you could dip your toes into the water.

“You may be the worst princess ever.” The raspy voice behind you startled you, but you still glanced back to stick your tongue at him. Your knight looks fantastic in his brass armor, but you can't deny his handsomeness in more casual outfits like this. The open white dress shirt dips low enough to show a hint of a toned tan chest, and you cannot help but thank the gods for his tight pants. If one were to look closely, they'd see that the black pants have been carefully lined with red thread to match his vibrant scarlet eyes.

If he's noticed you ogling him, the only sign is his back straightening in pride and his eyes shining just a shade brighter.

“Leave me alone, I'm exhausted. If one more person offers me good luck finding a husband I may vomit. I'm really doing them all a favor, hiding out here.”

“Still,” he grumbled, stepping closer to you and gazing out across the grounds. “I can't protect you if I'm not with you, dumbass.”

“Apologies, I forget how you can't stand to be without me.” Bakugou playfully swatted at your cheek, your obnoxious grin making him smirk back.

“You have it backwards, princess.”

“I'm sorry, who followed who?” You stood up before him to face him properly, tilting your chin upwards in defiance. A pleased shiver races up your spine when you see him slowly glance at the curve of your body through the sheer gown.

“I'm duty bound sweetheart. You need me.” His grin widens and he looks so terribly smug, but it slips a little when you step even closer. Now there's less than a foot between you, so close that you can smell him- like burnt cinnamon and just a hint of something earthy.

“And what, praytell, is it that I need from you?” You nearly whisper the words, allowing yourself another look at him.

The air thickens with a tension almost as old as your friendship, and there's lightning between you as you stare one another down.

He drops his crossed arms and reaches up to touch your face. The tip of his tongue peeks out as he licks his bottom lip, and you shudder all the way from your scalp to your bare toes.

You jump away from one another when you hear your father drunkenly calling for you to come dance with him. Your breathing had sped up at some point, and Katsuki didn't hide his gaze on your chest as it heaved.

“We should go back in, m'lady.” His voice is heavier than you've ever heard it and it leaves your legs wobbly. You manage to nod weakly, and you avoid each other's eyes as you walk in silence back to the party.

[aewriting]

Loathly - Chapter 2

Here is the second chapter to my “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell” Malex AU!  I have always wanted to post a story with daily updates, and this one is short and contained enough that I think I’m really going to do it, haha!  Enjoy!

Warnings for homophobia, sexism, ageism.

Read all parts here on AO3, if you prefer.

***

Alex and his brothers, by this point, had been on a crusade for almost a year, and had come to no consensus. Naturally, Jesse had been in a vile mood, even worse than usual. With time running out, he’d ridden with Alex and Flint to the far reaches of the Manes territory – close to the Antarian border, with the thought that the responses of the inhabitants of the border zone might be more aligned with an Antarian way of thinking, since it had been King Noah who had posed the riddle, after all.

Some days, Alex wonders why he is trying so hard.  Why not just let Noah kill his father?  Realistically, though, they were all there that day. All in the Antarian woods, all trespassing, all hunting King Noah’s deer.  No telling that he wouldn’t come for all of them if Jesse didn’t deliver the proper answer.  

Focused as he is on contemplating these questions of mortality, he almost doesn’t notice the woman on the trail. “Whoa,” he eases his horse.

The woman is… distinct. Older, much older even than Jesse, and oddly proportioned, with a mess of wiry grey curls. A fine mount, though, and an even finer cloak of richly dyed wool, woven with precious stones. Not… not an attractive woman, but a stately one, nonetheless.  Her eyes, though… her eyes, Alex could say with certainty, are memorable.  Large, amber-colored, expressive. 

She rides up to Jesse.  “Good day, King Manes,” she calls. Jesse’s eyes narrow, and he looks at her disdainfully. Alex knows his father, knows the way he talks about women, treats them. A woman like this, under normal circumstances, would be totally invisible to him. He seems offended, now, that she is forcing an interaction.  Jesse looks like he is about to say as much when she speaks again.

“Like it or not, but your life is in my hands.”

Jesse’s eyes widen.  “Is that a threat?”

The woman chuckles.  “By the gods, no!”

“Then what did you mean by it?” asks Flint, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Word has spread about you. Your quest.  You seek answers. Well,” she revises. “You seek an answer. The answer.”

Jesse stares at her.  “Go on.”

Her lips quirk into a half smile. “None of the answers you’ve received to date can help you,” she says, matter-of-fact.  “But I know the true answer, and I am willing to help you.” She pauses.  “On one condition.”

Jesse rolls his eyes, sighs loudly.  

The woman continues unperturbed. “I seek the protection of the Manes kingdom, and the security that can only come with an alliance with a man of the Manes lineage. Give me one of your sons in marriage, and I shall tell you the correct answer to King Noah’s puzzle.”

Jesse recoils.  “Marriage?”

“Aye,” says the old woman. “Those are my conditions.”

“Sentence one of my sons to a life with you?  Woman, have you seen yourself?”

Her eyes narrow. “I have indeed, and that changes nothing of my offer.”  She pauses, looks Jesse up and down.  “Lord Noah does not know that I have this answer that you have been seeking. He has been proclaiming, far and wide, that he has you beat, that he will soon have your head.  He knows that he has given you an impossible task and is assuming your failure.” She smiles wickedly.  “I can’t imagine that you like to lose, King Manes.”

Jesse regards her carefully. “My youngest.  Alex.  He will do, for you.”

Alex is stock still, shocked.

How dare he.

His father… his father knows about him.  Has known for sure since the Jelnos campaign 4 years ago, has suspected for far longer. He hates, hates Alex’s… preferences.  Perversions.  But he knows about them.  And yet…

Alex had always hoped he would escape marriage.  Jesse has four sons – there are three others for ruling kingdoms, making alliances, continuing the royal bloodline.  Alex had always hoped he could simply do… something else.  While he never dreamed of actually being able to live his life openly, authentically, he at least hoped that his father would not force him into some sham political marriage.

But here he is.

He thinks about it, then, really thinks.  Looks at this woman, whose name he does not even know, and in this moment, considers that this… could actually be better.  Better than marrying some child bride from god knows where, being expected to… to bed her, produce children.  God, the thought turns his stomach, leaves him cold and upset.  With this woman… she is too old to bear children, surely. There would not be that pressure. And if he was married to her, to save his father’s life, perhaps his father would ease up in his scrutiny of him, perhaps the rumors about Alex’s proclivities would finally quiet…  

“Show me this ‘Alex’,” says the woman in a commanding tone. Jesse gestures to Alex, and Alex urges his horse forward.

“My lady,” he says, hating how unsteady his voice sounds.

“What say you to this plan, Sir Alex?” the woman asks.  

Alex draws a deep breath. “I am under the command of my lord and king.  It pleases me to carry out his wishes.”

The woman narrows her eyes. Nods. “Very well,” she says.  “He’ll do. Thank you, King Manes.”

Jesse nods.  ‘What is your name, my lady?”

“I am the Lady Guerin.”

“Lady Guerin,” Jesse repeats, his tone cold.  “I do not like being tricked into bargains, so now I ask that you keep up your end of the deal.  Pray tell, what is it that everyone desires most, above all else?”

She holds up a wrinkled hand. “No, no, not until you must present the answer to King Noah.  What’s to stop from killing me, otherwise?” She smiles, slow and cunning.  “A royal son is a limited resource, and I’m sure many a person would love to marry a man handsome as your son.” Jesse scoffs a bit. The woman narrows her eyes.  “A soldier too, no?”

Alex looks down quickly. She has seen his mangled leg, despite his best attempts to conceal it.

“I understand there is one month left,” says the woman.  “I intend to get to know my betrothed.”

***  

They set up camp outside the woman’s house.  They’re guarding her, really, but they try to make it more pleasant than that.  

His brothers are harsh in their judgment of her.  

“I’ve never seen a hag so foul,” Flint mutters late one night as they sit around the campfire.  “Thank the gods father gave her to Alex,” he says to Gregory.  “Can you even imagine the horror of bedding her?”

Gregory grunts a little, pokes at the fire.

Alex sighs, so deeply. “Flint,” he says, voice low.  “She is to be my wife.  I ask that you please keep your thoughts to yourself.” Flint raises an eyebrow at him but stays quiet. “She… she is saving father’s life.  She’s given us food and shelter here.”

It’s been good food, too. Every day, the old woman cooks for them. Even Flint’s been impressed.  The food is rustic, nothing like the delicacies at the palace, but everything is filling and tasty.  Alex helps her, sometimes, supposes he should at least speak to her if they are truly going to be wed. He has been surprised, pleasantly. The woman is wise, with a wicked sense of humor. He’s nearly concerned for her sometimes, with the sharpness of her wit.  She seems savvy though – won’t deploy her cunning too openly around Jesse, and most of it just sails over his brothers’ heads.  She’s modest, too – almost oddly so, Alex thinks.  Every night, at dusk, she bids her leave and retreats to her small cabin, not to be seen until morning.  He has invited her to sit by the fire in the evenings, to share in song and wine, but she has always refused.  Without the evenings to chat, Alex takes advantage of their time together during the day, assisting with the cooking, the laundry.

“Why marriage?” Alex asks one afternoon, as they chop onions on a makeshift table in the clearing.

The woman looks at him with those amber eyes, studies him. Alex feels vulnerable under her scrutiny.

“You could have just asked for protection.  Why did you press for marriage?”

The woman purses her lips, looks down.  “I have had troubles with King Noah of Antar. For my own safety, I needed to be sure your father would honor our bargain.  I wanted him to commit to something that would be difficult to back out of.” She worries her lip slightly with her teeth, and looks at Alex with great uncertainty. The expression seems so out of place.

“I am sorry to have put you in such a position.  I… I know what I am.  What I look like.  You are sacrificing your future, your chances for a real match.  You’re a young, attractive man and – “

Alex places a hand on her bony wrist, interrupts her. “Please, it’s… it’s fine.  Just…” he trails off.  He feels an urge to tell her, about him. To disclose the limitations that a marriage to him would entail. “I cannot give you what other men could.”

She looks at him sharply.  

“I… I assume it is… past your time,” Alex stammers. “For children.” The woman narrows her eyes. “That is… fortunate.  For I fear, I couldn’t…”

The woman nods knowingly. “I do not please you.”  

Alex looks around, drops his voice.  “No woman could please me.  In that way.”

The woman’s head snaps up. She scrutinizes him, as if searching for something.  “Were you… injured, there?  As with your leg?”

Alex’s eyes widen. “No, no… it’s not that.  It’s…” He goes quiet.  What he’s about to say… there are many in Unidos that would see him hung for his desires, or worse. But this woman… in the short time he has known her, she has proven herself open-minded. Clever and worldly in unexpected ways.  And she lives so close to the Antarian lands, lands where, if the rumors are true, desires like Alex’s are accepted, embraced, even…

“I desire men,” he says, plainly.

The woman looks startled. “Oh.”

“As a husband,” he says, clearing his throat, “should you have need of… needs,” he stammers. “I will not stand in your way, as long as you are discreet. We, we will figure something out for you.  If you wish.” He feels embarrassed, speaking of such things.

“I was not under the impression that such… arrangements would be acceptable in Unidos,” the woman says, carefully.  “Is this a test, Sir Alex?”

“No,” Alex says quickly. “No test.” His shoulders slump.  “Just the truth.  A bitter one.” He bites his lip, a little. “I just… I thought you should know.  Before you commit to a marriage with me.  I apologize if I have offended you.” He looks at the ground.  “Disgusted you.”

The woman grips his hand tighter and, without warning, touches his chin, gently.  Tips his head up to meet her gaze.  “Nothing about you disgusts me.”

Alex is silent, just staring at her.

The woman drops her hand from his face, then, looks away quickly.  “The people of Unidos have strange prejudices that I do not share. Your nature, your… desires, your very being… they offend me not.  Not in the slightest,” she says forcefully.  “But I must ask, why did you agree to a match with me?”

Alex looks at her sadly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so freely to you.  I don’t, don’t truly know you, your background, who you are…” He shakes his head. “But, by the gods, I want to tell you.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, despite Flint’s absence. “I cannot go against my father. For any reason.  You… you have surely seen the type of man he is.  And I thought, well… there are worse matches. Given your, your age,” he says, delicately, “I had hoped that certain marital duties might not need to be part of our contract.”

The woman holds his gaze with those unfathomable eyes. “Not if you don’t want to.  Never, if you don’t want to, Sir Alex.”

She looks so earnest, in that moment, so open and true. Alex feels, deep in his gut, that he can trust her. He raises their still-clasped hands to his mouth, presses a chaste kiss to the ridge of her knuckles.  

“Thank you,” he whispers.

[thetranquilteal]

Tethered - A One Shot [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

Being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

Modern Day Firefighter AU. One-shot. Inspired by personal feelings of anxiety and helplessness this Australian bushfire season. 

A/N: I had just settled myself down in front of my computer with the intention of editing Part II of The Gift when the news caught my notice. For many Australian’s like myself, bushfires are not anything new. Every year hazard reduction burns are conducted (weather permitting), friends and family who volunteer with local fire brigades are likely to get called out at unexpected times, we pay attention when the State Department issues a Total Fire Ban. But the news that day was worrisome. It was alarming. It was downright anxiety-inducing. A literal state of emergency. I looked down at the story on my screen and asked myself… What would Claire and Jamie do in this situation? The answer, I found, was easy: they would be right there in amongst it. Fighting. Healing. Doing anything and everything they could to help the cause. Then I began to wonder… what if Claire was in my situation? What if she, too, was a primary carer who had little ones relying upon her, who had little to no extended family to provide support, who couldn’t simply walk out the door - no matter how much she wanted to? After much thought, I came to understand that - just as there is strength in staying to defend and strength in leaving everything behind - there is strength in going in headfirst and strength in staying behind. 

That being tethered can be both a blessing and a curse. It all depends on your point of view.

She was tethered.

And all she could do was worry.

Claire's hand hovered over her phone sitting on the kitchen bench and she caught herself, purposefully pulling herself away and over to the sink where a pile of dishes were waiting. 

Reading the news would bring no relief, she knew, only reports of more people evacuating homes, an ever-increasing number of people missing and warnings of extreme weather forecast for the days ahead, all guaranteed to intensify the sense of helplessness that had been hovering over her ever since Jamie had left.

It was a feeling as hot and sticky as the heat itself - and one she had come to hate. 

In all her thirty years, she had seen and done many things. She had served with an army, graduated medical school and worked in the most adverse and trying conditions with Doctors Without Borders. She had been arrested during protests, been beaten, wounded, patronised and, at the worst of times, betrayed by those she relied on most. Most recently she had relocated to a new country, become a foster mother and survived childbirth twice.

Yet nothing compared to staying behind while Jamie went with the Rural Fire Service to the front line. 

It had to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Even now, two weeks after Jamie had received the call, she was itching to move. To take action. Drop Fergus, Faith and Brianna off with trusted friends and head for the hills. Literally.

She looked down at her gloved hands, covered in soap suds and clenched them tightly before opening them again to look at them plainly. There was so much more they could be doing - should be doing - other than washing multicoloured milk stained cups and jam smeared plates. 

Respiratory problems, minor burns, heat exhaustion and dehydration, for example, were things she was well trained and equipped to deal with. But staying at home to look after the house and the children while her husband, friends and colleagues risked their lives during a state of emergency? Not so much.

Welcoming Fergus into their home had been both simple and easy. As an 8-year-old he had been happy to go wherever she and Jamie went, be it home or away, on a schedule or travelling across land and sea at only a moments notice. So much so, in fact, she had caught him attempting to stow away in one of the RFS trucks, adamant that he was not only old enough to go with the men but it would be beneficial for the team to have someone as small and fast as he around to help them.

Having Faith and then Brianna, however, had been something else entirely with periods of enforced bed rest, a near-death experience during birth and now being on maternity leave during a crisis challenging her in ways she had never expected. 

She let out a sigh and pulled the plug out of the sink, deciding to leave the now clean pile of dishes to the elements in favour of giving in and scanning her phone for updates. Again.

‘Too Late To Leave’ the latest headline read and, just like every other time she came across those words, a shiver ran through her leaving goosebumps along her skin in its wake. Her throat tightened at the thought of something happening to Jamie or any of his team members and tears welled up in her eyes, from frustration or despair she didn't know. 

Perhaps it was a mixture of both. 

Not a moment too soon, Faith bounded through the kitchen door, hands full of colourful flowers pulled from the garden. 

"For Mrs Cook!" Faith announced, holding out the bouquet proudly, her both smile wide and innocent, as Fergus joined them notably red-faced and out of breath.

"For Mrs Crook?" Claire corrected with a smile of her own as she reached for one of the clean cups behind her.

More than once she and Jamie had expressed to their foster son that caring for the little ones was not - and never would be - his responsibility yet the 11-year-old could always be found nearby actively looking after them, be it redirecting Faith’s attention when her antics turned dangerous or rocking Brianna’s crib when something startled her from slumber. 

The least she could do, she figured, was refuel him at any given opportunity. 

"Aye! Mrs Cook!" Faith repeated unfazed, her red curls bouncing eagerly.

"We haven't gone down to see Mrs Crook nor Mr Martin since the day before yesterday,” Fergus paused to gulp down half the cup and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “We were thinking to take them some iced tea -” 

“And flowers!”

“- and some flowers," Fergus added clearly, his eyes sparkling.

"That's a wonderful idea,” Claire agreed proudly. The days had been warm and at times the air so thick with smoke the normally busy roads were abandoned in favour of air-conditioned residences and she had made a point of regularly contacting their most at-risk neighbours just 'in case'. Such thoughtfulness from the children warmed a part of her, somewhere deep within her chest, that she hadn’t realised had grown cold. “I’ll get Brianna ready while you collect the fresh jug from the refrigerator."

On her way out of the kitchen she picked her phone up off the counter and slipped it into her back pocket before scooping Brianna up out of her bouncer and following the elder two children out the door.

"Come home to me, soldier," was the last thing she said to Jamie. 

She would have to trust that he would.

"Keep the bairns safe," was the last thing he said to Claire. 

He would have to trust that she would.

There was no point in worrying about things he had no control over, he knew. Not when the ash beneath his feet was like snow, covering every surface the eye could see, and flames in the distance reached heights he never imagined possible, producing smoke so thick it threatened the sky's existence. 

To consume the very air they breathed.

Jamie pulled up his visor and wiped the ever-present sweat off his forehead with a dirty sleeve.

With moderate temperatures and low winds, they had expected to spend the day reinforcing containment lines in preparation for the days ahead, a much-welcomed respite from the gruelling 16-hour shifts they had been partaking in so far. 

Just halfway to their assigned location in the National Park, however, they had received an urgent request for assistance in the Valley where a spot fire had taken the local crew by surprise. Together they had managed to protect all nearby buildings - including one he later found out was heritage-listed and an important part of local history - and were taking a moment to rest before getting back on the highway.

"Hey, Fraser! Catch!"

Jamie turned and caught the bottle of water in his gloved hands smoothly. He tucked it under his arm to take off his gloves before opening the bottle and lifting it to his dry, chapped lips. 

"Taing," he called back, his voice still scratchy but strong, and lifted the now mostly empty bottle in a show of gratitude.

Left to his own devices for a moment more, he took the opportunity to look around as his heart rate slowed to a more reasonable beat. Except for their fleet of three trucks and two utility vehicles, each strategically parked to form a line of defence, the road was barren and the lack of wildlife combined with the eerie orange glow filtering through haze left him with an unusual sense of unease. 

The very first time he had signed up to volunteer with the local brigade, he had been a young lad living in the Scottish Highlands, determined to follow in his late father’s footsteps, and in the years that followed learned from some of the toughest and most experienced senior members not only how to deal with the myriad of things they would undoubtedly encounter but what it truly meant to be a firefighter and part of a crew. 

For some years now, he had considered himself both highly skilled and well informed, worthy of the seniority bestowed upon him and prepared for anything that would fall across his path. Yet, in all his years fighting fires, he had never experienced a summer like this.

It wasn't just the challenging terrain, unprecedented severe weather conditions or the growing number of losses that settled upon his shoulders, as heavy as the equipment they carried on their backs, that was testing him - threatening to push him beyond his limits. 

It was also the first time the job had taken him so far away from his family. And for so long.

The first day or two had been easy with specialist reports, numerous briefings, allocation of equipment and the challenge of building a team under extreme conditions taking most if not all of his time and energy. But as they became familiar with the situation and settled into a somewhat regular routine, he found himself thinking of his family more and more. It was not uncommon for him to lay on a makeshift bed on the station floor in the wee hours of the morning, his body exhausted to the point of collapse but mind not yet following suit, and find himself wondering how they were or what they had been doing in his absence. 

Even on their busiest days, when they stood on the front line, feet planted firmly on the ground, sweat running down their backs and hearts racing in their chests, they were there, not so much in conscious thought but a subtle sensation. As though something was pulling on him, reminding him that their mere existence provided him with purpose.

A purpose to fight, yes, but also a much newer purpose to come home.

At the signal of their Crew Leader, he drained the last of his water and climbed up into the cab of the truck.

Right now, they were headed into the unknown, their uniforms blackened and scorched in places before they had even truly begun. He didn’t know what they would come to face in the next few hours, how long this beast would rage or much damage it would ultimately cause. 

All he knew for certain was that none of them were invincible, that what they were facing here - yesterday, today and tomorrow - was bigger and stronger than he and the crew would ever hope to be.

And he also knew he needn't worry.

He was tethered.

[caffeinechic]

Good Omens Fic Recs 1/?

I went to fix a link in this post and managed to delete the entire thing like an absolute fool. 

But my complete annoyance with myself won’t be bested with my determination to post this lot. So here I go again. I am so sorry if this has shown on your dash a million times. And sorry for the double links / tagging as I honestly went half mad over even the basics. This is where I am with life.

I have about 300 Good Omens fics bookmarked at this point to trying to pull out my absolute favourites sent me down a re-read (and in many cases a re-re-re-re-read) rabbit hole, which was an absolute joy so no complaints here!

These are just some of the ones that have just really stuck with me for one reason or another so I’ve gathered them up under the cut

4 Authors I just need to do like a HUGE rec for as they’re life ruiners. How dare they be this good. HOW DARE THEY.

@princip1914 @princip1914

Yeah I started pulling out the bookmarks I had for @princip1914 and realised it was...everything they’d written. All of it. Just...all of it.

But my particular favourite out of an outstanding batch is the following - which I have read approximately 70 squillion times. It stuck with me for so long in a way that I don’t think many fics have, ever. I actually can’t recommend this enough:

Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire

“But how,” Aziraphale gasped, agonized and close to tears. “How can you be sure. Crowley, dear, you got thrown out of heaven for questioning everything. How can you be sure about this?”

Crowley loves and Aziraphale doubts. God intercedes. A groundhog day kind of situation ensues wherein Aziraphale has to fall in love with Crowley over and over again as a human until he gets the point. Highlights include: delivering medical care in rural Louisiana, stargazing in Vegas, strangers on a train, and teaching middle school.

@bestoftheseekwill @bestoftheseekwill

Same “problem” with @bestoftheseekwill - READ EVERYTHING. Oh my god, the human AUs, THE HUMAN AUS.

Special shout out to Acts of Service which was the first Human AU I’d read and got me completely hooked and now whenever seekwill posts I immediately read.

Acts of Service

"You seem very familiar to me. I can’t say why that is." As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley turned away from the fire, and Aziraphale was momentarily concerned that the spell had been broken, that he had crossed some invisible line. But Crowley smiled and brought his beer to his lips.

"Maybe we met in a past life. Does your lot believe in that?"

"Past lives?"

"Yeah."

Aziraphale smiled into his wine. He was sure Crowley was poking fun, ever so slightly, but he liked it. "Not strictly speaking. No."

Crowley shrugged, taking another long sip of his beer. “A mystery then."

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

OH!! but also

That this could be the kingdom

- this one sat with me for a while. Stunning

I have lived my whole life with a wrecked heart. Fr. Aziraphale Fell’s present mirrors his past, as long ago roommate, classmate, and former friend Anthony Crowley reappears in his life in an unexpected and disarming way, challenging Aziraphale’s choices, and bringing him back to the breaking point, when he made a decision he couldn’t take back. It isn’t temptation, it’s revelation.

@mygalfriday @mygalfriday

Ah here, listen - I went to get my bookmark list for @mygalfriday and just ended up re-reading all 12 fics this week.

i can't say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

Aziraphale blinks as it slowly dawns on him exactly what he’s looking at. Crowley has a tattoo. Well, another one anyway. Unlike the small serpent curled just beneath his temple, this one takes up far more space.

And listen if you don’t read the blind date au series then I don’t know how to help you!

I couldn’t find Rend_Herring  Found @rendherring @rendherring on Tumblr but I had to put my phone and my head down after I read both of these.

The Lightness of You

God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

This Soul Outstreaming

“Why did you come here?” Aziraphale interrupts. “Why do you keep doing this?” All the saving, he means, all the chasing after Aziraphale he does. It can’t only be that he’s not keen to endure a replacement. That can’t be it, not anymore. He’s going to get himself in trouble, and then it’ll be Aziraphale’s fault.

Crowley’s mouth shuts with a click. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, reaches for the handle of the fork and taps his fingertips against it before setting his hands in his lap.

When he speaks, it’s very soft. “Don’t you know?” he asks.

Aziraphale, unaccustomed to his heart refusing to translate why it throbs with such haste, shakes his head.

Fics that, to me, are just stunners. I love them so much.

Slow Show - @mia-ugly @mia-ugly Honestly if you’re seeing a rec list WITHOUT slow show...I’d be legit surprised In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Barriers, and the breaking thereof - @cardinaldaughter @cardinaldaughter Ezra Fell has long been comfortable in his loneliness. He’s content to simply run the Soho Public Library and otherwise keep to himself. However, when a handsome stranger bursts in one evening with a baby, frantic and in need of help, Ezra finds those carefully constructed barriers he’s long maintained begin to crack.

Perhaps it’s time to let them fall.

Anthophilia - @fortinbrasftw @fortinbrasftw Anthony J. Crowley's life seems like it's finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn't seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn't bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn't even that good of a kiss.

The road to rapture has a lot of pit stops - @emmagrant01 @emmagrant01 Five times they kissed over four thousand years, and one time they actually meant it.

Demon and Angel Professors - Ghostinthehouse - not 100% sure that this is also their tumblr handle so if anyone can confirm that would be great! They're professors. They're married. Their students don't realise. Cue shenanigans.

Multiple short arcs with one-shots (and often pauses) between them. Characters continue from one arc to the next. It's marked as complete, because each short arc is complete in itself, but there will be more arcs and one-shots in the future.

The Grinch Who Sold Christmas - @forineffablereasons @forineffablereasons Anthony J. Crowley, a big-time attorney from London, is sent to small-town Tadfield to close a deal before Christmas that would sell out half of high street to a fancy developer and put him up for partner at his firm. The deal will run the local businesses out and change the landscape of the town forever, but that’s none of Crowley’s business; he’s just doing a job.

But as the town invites him to share in their lives and their hopes and their holiday celebrations, and as the enigmatic Aziraphale invites him to share in something more, Crowley starts to wonder: if everything has its price, is he still willing to pay what this deal will cost?

Slow - write_away It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions.

You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it.

It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart.

Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

You, soft and only - @thehoyden He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel.

“Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

A Bushel and a Peck- @thehoyden  Sometimes, a family is a demonic nanny, an angelic cook, and a kid who isn't actually the Antichrist.Or: Crowley helps Aziraphale secure a different position at the Dowling Estate.

Long is the way, and hard - Kate_Lear The first time Crawley meets the angel, the celestial being is twisting its shining white robe in its fingers and looking wretched. It hardly spares him a glance as he shifts from snake to human, and Crawley is a touch put-out. It’s taken some practice to be able to do it so fluidly.

A story of Crowley's thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.

And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.

the 21st century, in which they finally work it out - @fieldbears @fieldbears This is light speed in comparison to the last few centuries of their relationship, but Crowley is barely holding on to his patience.

A Few More Rescues - @poetic----nonsense @poetic----nonsense 5+1 Times Crowley Rescued Aziraphale According to the Romantic Tropes of the Era, and One Time Aziraphale Turned It Around on Him (plus Prologue)

The Cottage, the Husbands (series) - Dragonsquill A demon and an angel fall in love and decide to take on the monumental task of living together in a cottage by the sea.

[laurelsofhighever]

Chapter Rating: Mature Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort Summary: The army reaches Aeylesbide, and prepares for the next campaign.

--

Seventh day of Firstfall, 9:32 Dragon  

The rain had been sheeting sideways for half a day by the time the sloped, tiled roofs of Aeylesbide came into view, a proper Firstfall gale that brought down the clouds and drove water stinging into the eyes, feeding the misery of both man and beast. After all, oilskins could only do so much before water found the exposed gaps between plate and mail and leaked through to seep its chill down to the bone. The horses’ heads were low, the company spattered with mud, the baggage soaked. The discomfort cast a pall over the countryside that went beyond mere seasonal change, and between the driving gusts of rain, Alistair cast a leery gaze over the bare trees and the fields left fallow for the winter. It was barely past midday, but so late in the year the light had already begun to fade.  

As they followed the road into the village proper, the bulk of the company split off from the head of Cailan’s guard to find the rest of the encampment. The flat of the green stretched out lankly in the space between the chantry and the guildhall, a lifeless shade of its summer self scattered with cast, half-rotten leaves and devoid of all movement save a huddle of bedraggled ducks in yearling plumage. The tree that had sheltered the villagers from the Summerday heat had been festooned with decorations in place of its discarded foliage, but Satinalia was a week gone and the ribbons and paper baubles that remained hung limp and bedraggled as broken cobwebs from its branches. What faces they did see peered out at them from the dark, misted windows of the village’s cottages.  

Bann Ferrenly waited for them under the shelter of his porch, with thick boughs of fir and holly wreathed over the lintel. The winter skeleton of the manor’s gardens loomed around them as the party squelched from their saddles, the tall husks of shrubbery and blackened flower stalks kept at bay only by the warm welcome of their hosts and the cheery hearthlight behind them. A troop of grooms was standing by to take the horses.

“My friends, it has been too long!” Ferrenly boomed, his arms open and his ruddy face beaming as he bowed low. “We had almost given you up as drowned on the road!” 

Next to him, the delicate lady Raina offered a curtsey. “Welcome to our home once more, Your Majesty. I’ve had the servants prepare baths, and fresh linens await the officers in the underhall.”  

“My lady!” Cailan laughed, throwing back his hood so he could shake his head free of droplets like a dog. “The wealth of your hospitality is outmatched only by your beauty, and it pleases me so that neither are dampened by this intolerable weather.”  

“Well said, Your Majesty, well said.” Both the bann and his wife wore their feast day attire, and the rich threads caught the light as he turned his attention to the rest of the party. “Your Highness, and Your Ladyship! From what I hear tell you’ve both tales to tell, but that can wait until you look less than half frozen, eh?”  

With a chuckle, he stepped back to usher everyone through the main door. They passed from the cramped vestibule to the open hall at the bottom of the stairs, into the reach of servants armed with towels and hangers for their sodden outer layers. Water dripped onto the baked tile floor, reflecting the candlelight and the sheen of the Satinalia ribbons that wove around the banister and draped from the iron chandelier in the middle of the room.  Alistair shucked off his cloak with gratitude, so far beyond shivering after so long in the cold that he could barely get his gloves off. Next to him, Rosslyn looked just as miserable. Her rain-matted hair was plastered to her face, a stark contrast against her skin that robbed the life from her cheeks and made his hand twitch with the urge to tidy the black strands behind her ears. Instead, he watched the reflexive scrunch of her expression as the sudden transition to a warm room stung her eyes and nose and invited a sneeze. She smothered it well, and met his anxious look with a lopsided smirk – all she could do, given their audience.  

“I’m afraid dinner will not be ready for another two hours,” Lady Raina was saying. “We did not expect you so early.”  

The king shook his head. “It just gives us more time to wring ourselves out, my dear. Those baths are ready now, I understand?”  

“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Raina smiled. “If you would follow me.”  

With an instruction to her husband to check on the cook, and for the chamberlain to lead the guard to the servants’ quarters, she started up the stairs with Cailan, Alistair, and Rosslyn following behind. A creak above and a tumble of giggles greeted them halfway up, but the flash of three bright faces vanished from the landing too quickly to catch as a sharp reprimand from an unseen nanny shooed the children back to the nursery.  

“They’re excited at the prospect of an extended Satinalia,” Raina explained, casting a fond glance upwards. “We told them you would want space after your journey, but I expect they’ll find a way to ambush you sooner or later. I promise to fend them off as long as I can.”  

“No need,” Cailan replied, and raised his voice. “Perhaps I shall at least exact my revenge upon the fabled warriors three!”  

More giggling. Alistair caught a wistful tilt to the corner of Rosslyn’s smile and brushed his hand lightly across hers. He hoped nobody noticed. When they reached the landing, Raina showed them their rooms, the same ones they had had recuperating from West Roth, and curtseyed again before continuing up to the nursery on the next floor. An awkward silence descended, fatigue so profound it left them giddy now that rest and food were so close within their grasp.  

“Brother, you brought no change of clothes,” Cailan realised. “And you’ve no servant to attend you.”  

Alistair, who like Rosslyn was dressed in layers donated by the templar quartermaster, blinked and rubbed a hand down his face. “Oh.”  

“No worry, we’re of a size – I’ll have Villers run something to you from my trunk.”

“What about Rosslyn?”  

“We travelled light into the Frostbacks – most of my clothes stayed with the army,” she answered, a hand over her mouth to suppress a yawn. “A good thing, too. I don’t think His Majesty’s clothes would fit.”  

“You could pull it off.”  

She turned to him, an amused smile canted at the corner of her mouth as she folded her arms, the half-outraged tilt of her brows betraying the connotation of his words an instant before they registered in his fogged mind.  

His face flushed with heat. “I only – that’s not –” His eyes flicked down before he could stop them, mind alight with easily half a dozen images determined to translate exactly where such a phrase might take him. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t mean it like that!”  

“Like what?” she asked sweetly.  

“Uhm…”  

Stuck between the two, Cailan swallowed a laugh behind a cough. “That is my note to leave, I think. Though a word of caution – our Lady Falcon takes no prisoners.”  

“Enjoy your rest, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn said, perfectly nonchalant, nodding as he bowed and turned to leave.  

“You’re evil,” Alistair muttered to her once they were finally alone.

“Maybe I just wanted to chase away our audience.” She leaned towards him, still with a smirk playing around her lips, and looked him up and down.

“Ha. I don’t know who finds it weirder that he knows, me or him.”

Something guarded entered her expression then, and she dropped her gaze to take his hand. “Are you… Do you mind that I told him?”  

“Mind?” he repeated, breaking into a grin as he squeezed her fingers. “You said your heart belonged to me. In front of a real, actual person. I’m not sure how I deserved such a treasure, but how could I mind?” He pressed her knuckles to his lips, frowned at how cold they were.  

“You’re trying to flatter me.” The worry in her expression lingered. “You don’t think it was too soon?”  

“Do you want to take it back?” he teased.  

“No.”  

“Good.” He sidled closer. “You know, it’s been too long since I’ve kissed you.”  

She leaned back just far enough to stay out of reach, grinning. “You kissed me yesterday.”  

“Like I said, too long.”  

“Alistair.”  

He stopped when her palm landed against his chest.  

“I’m cold, and tired, and – frankly – filthy.” Before he could open his mouth to argue, or apologise, she tugged on his fingers and drew them to her lips. “Come find me before dinner.”  

Rueful, he caught her chin in his fingertips. Every fibre of his body yearned towards her, weary and worn as it was, seeking an instinctual sort of comfort that damned the need for propriety, for company, for the appearances that would mean he’d have to sleep in a strange bed without her in his arms. A rebellious little idea flared in the stubborn corners of his mind, grumbling at the need to go to dinner at all.

The thought passed in an instant. “I’m not sure I could deny you anything,” he confessed, even as he realised it himself, and let her go.  

She darted forward and stole a peck against his cheek. “Love you.”

“That one doesn’t count,” he groused. “You still owe me a kiss.”  

“Be sure to come and collect it, then.”  

--

The light had entirely gone from the sky by the time Rosslyn dismissed her maid. During the months on campaign, she had become used to the feeling after battle, the empty, worn out expanse where conscious thought flickered like the shapes of fish beneath an iced-over pond. She stared out at the dark only because it made a better impression than staring at a wall, her eyes unfocused on her wraithlike reflection in the window, the flash at her throat where a pendant turned between her fingers. She’d managed to doze in the bath, long enough to prune. Her right arm ached. Her hair hung damp in its new braids, fragrant with jasmine, loose down her back over formal attire that rested warm and crisp against her skin, and still her mind was far away. Rarely did the tide of war give her so much time to dwell on what had happened. What would it be like when the war was over altogether, once Highever was back in her grasp and the coastlands hers to rebuild? The demon had worn her father’s face, and even then, she hadn’t hesitated…  

Someone knocked on the door. Shaking herself from her thoughts, she turned and called for whoever it was to enter, ready to be gracious, as if there were nothing wrong at all.  

“Are you decent?” Alistair called as he poked his head around the door. His eyes were squeezed comically shut and he kept his nose in the air in case he had to hurriedly look at the ceiling.  

“And if I weren’t?” she asked, amused.  

“Then, uh…” A blush stalked its way up his neck as he cleared his throat. “There’s no way I can answer that, is there?”  

She chuckled. “You can open your eyes.”  

He did, first squinting with one eye then staring with both, the slow, involuntary scan over her body leaving her flustered, demuring at the pleasant flutter in her stomach. Her gown was the deep blue of her family’s colours, cut traditionally with a high collar and a fitted bodice that flared ever so slightly into long skirts at her hips, and flared outer sleeves that trailed almost to the floor. It felt good to have it appreciated, even if this particular form of appreciation was one she usually met with a cold glare and a colder snap of manners. He let out a steadying breath, moving forward to slip his hands around her waist, chest against her back and a kiss against her hair, and denied her view of him in Cailan’s clothes, which suited him well despite being rather loose about the waist and shoulders. She tapped her fingers on the bracers at his wrists, a smile on her lips as she traced the interweaving lines of the War Dogs she had commissioned for him all that time ago.  

“Fascinating view.”  

“I was thinking,” she chided, sliding a hand to the back of his head.

He hummed at her touch. “About what?”  

She hesitated. They had so much left to do, so many worries, bound by honour and duty already even before any sort of future might present itself. If the demon’s vision had shown her anything, it was that she would always be beholden to Highever and its people, to the legacy of her family, and whatever path it lay before her, more and more the desire to walk it waned without the certainty that Alistair would be beside her, as close as he stood now. One of his hands had unfolded itself from her waist so he could push her hair away from the side of her neck. His fingers brushed her skin so lightly she gasped.  

“How long until dinner?” she asked.  

His grin pressed against the juncture of her shoulder, words a shiver that raised gooseflesh along her arms. “We have some time.”  

“Alistair…”  

“At your service,” he murmured, trailing his kisses higher. “Rosslyn?”  

She had forgotten to breathe. “You’re being bold today.”  

A heartbeat, and he withdrew, not far enough to lose contact, but enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. Her fingers foundered in his hair, and she felt the loss of his warmth as keenly as a winter gale against her back. The movement drew her with him, turning so she could look upwards into the worry she had put in his face. Where her palm cupped his jaw, she felt him swallow.  

“Too bold?” he asked.  

Her head shook, both in answer and because yet again she found herself falling further. “I still owe you a kiss, remember?” The joy that spread in his smile brought an answer to her lips, made her lean closer.  

“How good of you to remind me…” but then he paused, frowning, and brought his fingertips to her throat with an unsteady breath she didn’t know how to read. “You still have it.”  

“What –?”  

His fingers were tentative on his mother’s amulet, as if not even touching it could make him believe it was really there. “You’re wearing it. I hadn’t thought after everything, that… that you’d still have it.”  

“I…” It would be too easy to comfort him, to tell him she never lost faith, nor her temper. “I almost threw it at a wall when I heard about the plans for you and Valesh. I was so angry… I tore it off and shoved it at the bottom of my strongbox so I wouldn’t have to look at it – or remember.” She smiled. “I missed wearing it.”  

Reverently, his touch moved upwards, along her pulse to the corner of her jaw, pulling lightning in its wake. His gaze rose to her mouth. When she moved, less than an inch of encouragement, whatever spell held him broke and he swept down to meet her, a hungry, ragged edge to his sigh as the kiss deepened and her fingers slid once more to the back of his neck. She pulled him close without preamble, flaring with the same spark that had taken her in Greagoir’s office, the desperation of needing him closer, grasping at clothes and hands and anywhere she could reach, and grinning when strong arms wrapped like a vine around her back, as if he too might drown without such contact. His mouth found her neck as the windowsill collided with the back of her legs. Breath heavy, she wavered, shuddered, sank teeth into his shoulder to stifle a moan at the wander of his hands. It only caught fabric, but he felt it enough to stop, even if he stayed so close the tickle of his laugh ghosted across her skin.  

“So the lady does bite,” he murmured. “Interesting.”  

She smirked, remembering the conversation from so long ago, and turned her lips to his ear. “Someone baited me.”  

“Can I do it again?”  

“I…” Uncertainty crowded in, a stormcloud covering the sun. He felt the tension freeze in her shoulders, but she couldn’t look at him, or the frustration surely painted over his features. “I don’t mean to tease, I – I really don’t.” His attention had made her bold; her enjoyment made her want to toy with ideas she had rarely before entertained, and yet in her mind there still yawned that massive gulf between thinking and doing.  

“I love you,” he said, tilting her chin without a hint of accusation. He smiled. “And you’re not teasing. And I’m not disappointed – I could kiss you for hours and not get bored.”  

The admission sent warmth curling down to her toes. She reached up, aware of his palm on her waist, the other on her jaw, and trailed her fingers through his hair. “But you do want more.” Somehow, hearing it was important.  

He swallowed. His thumb brushed her lips. “I want –”  

The doorknob turned. Startled, they sprang apart, stung by blushes as their hands fell to straighten their rumpled clothing. A young girl no more than eight pouted at them from the doorway, her black eyes squinting suspiciously in a face framed by a mess of dark brown ringlets.  

“Were you kissing?” Bann Ferrenly’s eldest demanded.  

Rosslyn exchanged a nervous glance with Alistair. His mouth opened to reply, but his hair still stuck up at odd angles and he had little experience with children, especially those on the cusp of discovering adults could lie. He looked at her as she clamped her hand on his arm, but took her warning and kept quiet.  

She turned back to the child, who on their previous stay had been introduced as Moyna. “What do you know about kissing, little one?”  

“I know Mama and Papa do it, and they say I’m not to do it ‘til I’m older.” Moyna made a face. “I don’t want to do it ever!”  

“Very wise of you,” Rosslyn replied with a reassuring smile. “Can you keep a secret?”  

The child regard them both suspiciously. “What secret?”  

“Not a bad secret, just an important one,” came the assurance. “Like… when you pick strawberries for your mama but you don’t want her to know until dinnertime because then you get to give them to her.”  

“Mama likes strawberries.”  

“I know. Can you keep that kind of secret?”  

“I’m the best at that kind of secret!” Moyna declared, puffing out her chest.  

“Cross your heart?” Rosslyn asked.  

A solemn nod. “And hope to die, stick a dagger in my eye.”  

“You are good at keeping secrets.” Rosslyn smiled. “Alright. The truth is, His Highness and I were kissing, because we like each other very much.” The words, unspoken until that moment, scorched crimson across her cheeks, as if it were the utterance alone that made it real. Alistair pressed reassurance into her hand, and she squeezed back. “He’s very special to me.”  

“Like Mama and Papa?” Moyna asked.  

“Exactly like, except nobody can know that we like each other.”

“That’s stupid.”  

Alistair offered the girl a wry smile. “Sometimes the reasons adults do things seem that way when they’re complicated.”  

“That’s what Papa says.”  

“And do you trust your papa?” Rosslyn asked.  

The child tilted her head to the side, but nodded.  

“Then you know this is important. It’s a very special secret, and you can’t tell anyone you even have it, because then they’ll all want to know and it won’t be special anymore.” She let a note of steel creep into her voice. “And we’ll know who told them.”  

Chastened, Moyna’s gaze dropped to her feet. “Is he nice to you?” she asked. “Mama said that’s important.”  

For an instant, Rosslyn’s mind stumbled. Traitorous thoughts ran back to the moments before the interruption, stoking the heat in the back of her neck with reminders of broad hands across her back, the sensitive mark over her pulse he had discovered for her with his teeth. But then there was also the way he held her in comfort, his jokes, the warmth of waking up beside him, and the faith that always shone from his eyes when he looked at her.  

“He’s very nice to me,” she answered finally. “It’s good of you to ask.”  

“I was meant to get you for dinner.”  

Alistair stepped forward this time. “Lead on then, fair maiden. We wouldn’t want to be late. This one –” he grinned and snaked his arm around Rosslyn’s waist “– gets awfully grumpy when she’s hungry.”  

“You’re baiting me again,” she warned.  

“Am I?”  

If not for their audience, she would have kissed him to wipe the grin from his face, but an eye-roll did just as well. Moyna retreated and led the way into the hall, and the moment the child’s back turned, he stole a kiss to her temple.

“I don’t think that would have gone half as well if I’d opened my mouth,” he muttered. “How did you know that would work?”  

She leaned into him. “I had a nephew, remember?”  

“Oh… Rosslyn, I –”  

“You don’t need to apologise,” she murmured. “Come on, before all the food’s gone and I really do get grumpy.”  

He chuckled, still contrite, but let her untangle herself and followed though the quiet house after their guide. As they neared the dining room and the warm light spilling from it, they became more conscious of the space between them, hating that it had to be maintained, but even with propriety aside, Cailan had warned them about being discreet until Eamon’s part in their separation was brought to light. Rosslyn caught Alistair’s hand a moment before he reached for the door, brushing a swift kiss over his cheek when he turned to question what was wrong. He wavered towards her, expression torn, but before he could say anything Moyna tramped through the door and announced them both like a herald, vanishing all opportunity for escape.  

“We could still go back upstairs, finish our conversation,” he murmured, and sighed. “But we can’t really, can we?”

She shook her head. “As much as I would like to, and not just because I haven’t had a proper       meal in two days. We should follow Cailan’s lead on this, at least until –”

“Are you two ever going to join us, or do we need to come and find you?” Teagan called.

--

They had no chance to finish their conversation after dinner, or in the weeks that followed. Besides interruptions from Ferrenly’s children, who spent the bad weather and their extended Satinalia holiday playing hide and seek through the house, preparations began in earnest for the push north. Daily, Rosslyn traipsed through the mud to attend drills and oversee the installation of boardwalks in the army camp, sensitive to the balance of morale that pitted the misery of the rain against the rumours swirling amongst the ranks. Even the most oblivious soldier could sense their change in purpose, and the change in their commander. No longer did they suffer a long slog through the Bannorn, subduing lord after lord with barely a sniff of home – no, now the exercises Rosslyn ran with her officers gave the air of a knife being sharpened, honed with intent to make quick work of the kill. The soldiers who had been with her at Harrowhill recognised the new manic edge to her movements and they responded. The energy of the camp swelled and churned, until one night, it culminated in a group of soldiers breaking into the equipment store. The next morning, the new face of every practice dummy was revealed, rows of blank heads turned into crude likenesses of Howe, complete with his telltale crow-like nose and sneer. The ranks held their breath as Rosslyn caught sight of them, and sighed in relief when her only reaction was the slight lift of a smile and a chuckled carry on.

Most days, she left Cuno with Alistair. Loyal hound he might be, but he despised muck between his toes, and stank badly enough to wake the dead when he stayed out in the wet too long, and in any case, ever since arriving with Eamon’s contingent, he had been sulking at her for leaving him behind to fight at the Circle. He much preferred snoring by the fire for the hours Alistair sat at his desk, going over logistics. Tedious but comfortable, it mirrored the work he had done as Teagan’s right hand, except the extra authority his title gave him meant there were far fewer people willing to pick a quarrel these days. He met daily with quartermasters, cook staff, smiths, bookkeepers, and even templars looking to have their particular supply needs met, and he counted every headache as another step towards seeing Rosslyn safer on the battlefield.

He found himself with a spare hour two days before they were due to depart for Deerswall. The following day had already been cleared for the judgement Cailan would pass on Arl Eamon, but that thought only churned his stomach. Sick of fidgeting, he rose and crossed to the window to peer through the misted glass at the grey daylight beyond.

“Rain’s cleared up,” he informed the dog, who had lifted his head at the unexpected movement. “How about a walk?”

Cuno eyed him balefully for a moment, before setting his head back on his paws with a groan.

“Suit yourself.”

He spotted Rosslyn a little while later at the far end of the training field, overlooking weapons practice for a group of soldiers all bearing the Laurels on their surcoats. A pair of guards cleaning equipment pointed her out, standing with feet planted and arms folded as she watched the exercise. The past two weeks had shed all her refined accoutrements and left her once more dressed in a plain gambeson and breeches, her only ornament in the belt she wore to secure Talon to her hip. The stray wisps of hair feathered around her head told him she herself had been involved in at least one bout already that morning.  

“Is this your pool of volunteers?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

Her frown eased slightly as she glanced at him. “All eager souls wanting to prove their mettle. There were more of them, but these were the only ones who could tie knots.”

“Do you have enough?”

“More than.” She grimaced. “That’s what today is – a final cull before we set off.”

Worry lurked beneath her clipped tone. A place as well fortified as Castle Cousland could never be taken by brute force, and they had spent hours poring over strategy, weighing options, looking for chinks in the defences of her childhood home. She knew them all intimately, she told them, because her father had been practical, and had wanted his children prepared in case Highever ever fell to another occupation. It was only small comfort that the queen’s presence prevented levelling the walls being considered even as a last resort.

Alistair cleared his throat as Gideon bellowed at one of the volunteers to retreat to the edge of the field.

“Aren’t those the men who deserted Howe?” he asked.

She nodded. “Riley and his mates. When word got out I was looking for a strike force he all but barged into my office to ask for a chance to honour his debt to me.”

“Isn’t he worried he’ll be facing old comrades?” he replied. “Aren’t you worried about his loyalties?”

“What’s this, my love?” she teased, turning to him. “You’re usually the one trying to remind me about mercy.”

“Mercy doesn’t mean turning your back on someone who would have once tried to kill you,” he told her, and dropped his voice. “You’re risking a great deal.”

“Not really. Howe isn’t one to suffer slights to his authority, and Lowan’s reputation is brutal. Even if Riley and the others hated my guts, they care too much for their own survival to kill me.” She tilted a smirk at him. “Even if they thought Howe would react favourably, they know there are people whose loyalty to me would see them hunted down and butchered.”

He hated the relish he heard in her voice, a cold spark of ruthlessness that hadn’t been there once upon a time. Cailan had told him about the events at South Reach, but only in the barest detail, with the understanding that no account could match the ordeal of actually being there, and thinking there was part of her he couldn’t reach stabbed him with a peculiar kind of discomfort.

“What?”

“It’s…” He sighed. “You talk about your own life like it’s just another – like it’s a tool to use for leverage.”

“Maybe that comes from having your entire family murdered,” she snapped, and flinched. “I’m sorry, I… I’ll be better when we get moving.”

Wishing he could do more, he laid a hand against her arm. “We’re nearly there, and we’ll make it all the way.”

“And tomorrow?” she asked, with a glance at his mouth.

“Everything’s set, but Cailan refuses to tell me what he’s planning.” A note of uncertainty entered his gaze. “I know I said I didn’t want to hide this anymore, but if there were another way – we don’t have to –”

“Yes we do,” she interrupted. “He has to pay for what he’s done, and that is inextricably tied to the fact that he somehow knew about us and wanted to stop it. What?”

He smirked. “Just admiring the love of my life. She’s the most determined person I’ve ever met.”

The blush that stole across her face matched the flustered smile she tried to hide behind her stern warrior’s mask, and both brought a flutter to his stomach. He leaned closer.

“Why, my dear lady, whatever is the matter?” he teased.  

“You,” she answered, with a wry glance. “You’re entirely too charming.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“I think a lot of things about you.”

“Such as?” Very little space remained between them now, and he only regretted that they had had so little time in recent days for any kind of privacy.

Her gaze darted down. “Why don’t I tell you later?”

“You’re mean,” he retorted, and cleared his throat. “But I’ll have to look forward to it. Your commander looks very grumpy all of a sudden.”

Behind her, Gideon’s disapproving look burned like sunlight through a shard of glass, not so much aimed at him but at his audacity for distracting Rosslyn from her task. She glanced over her shoulder, abashed, and folded her hands behind her back as she turned to face her soldiers once more. Most were still too busy with the drill to have caught sight of the conversation, but those already eliminated from the selection did their very best to show they were not watching from the side of the field. The blush still lingered on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry to keep you, Your Highness,” she said formally.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Carry on, Your Ladyship.”

He looked back just as the rain started again. She paid it no mind, her gaze once more fixed raptor-like on those under her command, and if a faint brush of pink still tinged her skin, from a distance it left less of an impression than the tired circles bruised under her eyes. A squirm of anxiety woke in his gut as he recognised the look, but this time, he promised himself, things wouldn’t be like they were after West Roth. He had the power now to see to it, and he cared too much to fail her again.

[cinaminho]

_

Before we run || K.SM.

♡ Group: Straykids

♡ Genre: Fluff ,, highschool AU ,, non idol

♡ Warnings: cRINGe,,

----- ×

Hypothesis// It's not there yet but it's something special, A special kinda 'somethin

Now it was Spring time, everything was blooming, from flowers in fields to fresh Fruits on trees. It was that time again for everything to be new, purified and unruined. That's the kind of Bond you had with Him, it was as fresh as lavender , not tainted by such things as problematic disagreements and distrust, those struggles came with being a couple which was something you and him, Seungmin , weren't. Sure a few intertwined fingers here and there maybe a peck on the cheek or two, add Flirting too, but nothing beyond such had progressed between you two.

Yes, you were labeless and saw no problem with it so of course neither did he. You both never asked questions , what would need to be asked anyway, nothing came to mind for you and perhaps not for him either.

Everything was free and all was not set in stone, though everything seemed be rushed with everyone else everything you touched or did was light which you basked in. Walking into your school's cafeteria the smell of Baked sweet breads, fruits, fresh cooked roast beef and sounds of loud laughter along with muffled chattering could be heard, carrying yourself through the sea of young Humans searching for a table with familiar faces since your distinct group of friends never sat at the same one, searching beyond body barriers and hair squinting as far as you could you finally found them at the corner near the back, squeezing your way through people just to get to your own set that you talked to on the regular bases.

Successfully making it through the crowd you headed over to your crew of friends sighing contently as you sat down with small creases in your cheeks from smiling, your friend, Kara, was the first to observe you once you sat down next to her "Why do you look as if you just got done skipping through a meadow of daisies?" Your mind couldn't process her words quick enough transitioning from Shock you spoke "Well, for starters, I'm alive..," Kara gestured for you to keep going "and that should be enough."

You smiled making Kara smack her lips at your seemingly uninteresting answer, "Be Real honey, who's happy to be living without a catch." A Male's voice chimed in one that belonged to Ruben, another friend of yours, Kara snapped her head in his direction "Well what a dark but intriguing way to look at things." You ignored the last two comments from your friends still wanting to know why Kara assumed that their was a specific reason behind your smile.

"Excuse me, but why does there have to be a hidden motive behind my smile?" Your tone had a hint of offense laced with your words.

"Its not that there has to be one it's just that we want it to be one." Kara explained noticing your discomfort , "Which is?" You urged further suspiciously, "We were hoping you and him had finally got together , y'know , you and Seungmin, it's clear you two are deeply intrigued by one another." Kara added.

You nodded your head as it all came together they knew you hated when they pushed for more in situations that had nothing to do with them which explained Kara's Semi guilty and timid tone when she spoke "I'm sorry!" She quickly added "I'm not." Rueben shrugged making both you and Kara stare at him bewildered but he wasn't phased by the deathly stares from the two of you, so he continued .

"Look no one wants to deal with the cliches and predictable tales, you'll eventually realize you like him but have been putting it off, blah blah, every other fanfiction. You guys do small things that couples do so might as well be one." Rueben's tone dragged along as he spoke to you both it was quiet as no one repomded not knowing what to say.

"You read fanfiction?" Kara laughed breaking the weird silence "From time to time." He smirked confidently, you looked between the two speaking back and forth Eyes trained on them but your thoughts were focused on Rueben's last statement, it hit like a bag of bricks thinking he may be right, i mean, Would Seungmin and you actually turn out like that?

"Ohhh you're thinking about it," Kara squealed pulling you back to the real world away from your thoughts "I'm sorry , what?"

"You're thinking about you and Seungmin!" She grinned "actually I'm th-"

"You are." Rueben deadpanned , the school's cafeteria Bell rung letting it be known that lunch was over and it was time to get back to class. "Just talk to him about it or hint at it, whatever, ease him into the idea." Kara suggested while getting up from the table "Don't be a cliche." Rueben whispered to you as he walked past making you attempt to slap his face away for taunting you.

"I don't care how desperate I get for love, I'll never be as cliche those Stories Rueben probably reads." You mumbled to yourself gathering your things before standing and handing off to class.

♡ ~ - ~ ♡

Seungmin waited at the last cement step for you against the flag pole, the stampede of students slowed down and you were one of the last to appear outside , he had been bright all day but you unintentionally made him even brighter without much notice , you were fixing a strap on your bag as you walked down the steps of your school "I didn't know you could do something while walking other than talking." A mocking Seungmin spoke up causing your eyes to search until you found him "I didn't know you were capable of being anything more than a pain to those around you." Seungmin frowned briefly as you walked past Him before catching up to you lending his hand out for you to grab, nothing foreign to you excepting his advance and colliding both of your delicate hands the walk was only silent for a few seconds

"So I think I'm going to have a schedule change." His statement made you look at him with much curiosity "Why , you seem to like most of your periods."

"More time with you is great as well." You hummed understanding, slowly analyzing his explanation all while Rueben's comment clashed in your brain , Don't be a cliche, you weren't going to be one, you would speak up just to get a glimpse of what he thought of you two becoming an exclusive love.

"Seungmin,"

"You won't get tired of seeing me more often, right?" He suddenly spoke

You Shook your head "Seungmin I need your opinion"

"I feel like we'll only get closer." He grinned happily up at the sky, once again, discarding your questions initiation.

"Seungmin." You said more urgently catching his attention, you took a deep shakey breath it was funny how within a few seconds you became unsure about wanting ask this important question but it had to be done if not now, when? "You can't deny that we do things that almost would make people assume that we're a couple , right ?"

Seungmin searched your eyes as you kept walking hand in hand as if he was asking you why the sudden question, this brought a bundle of nerves to trigger a minor faster speed in your heart rate. "I suppose if I payed attention, then yes." You subtly released the air you withheld in your lungs, "So it wouldn't be completely-"

"For the love of Christ, Y/n, did your friends say something to you about us becoming 'exclusive'." He groaned. You were shocked that he knew "Yeah how'd you know?" You smiled "Because mine have been on my back about the same thing for since Last Wednesday ." Your mouth formed an Oh shape silence crawled into the air between the two of you feeling that the question had been answered, for the most part, but you couldn't help wanting to ask him further.

"But is the idea so bad?" You blurted out shamefully, Seungmin laughed at your slight embarrassment "No." He simply said "Well so why don't we do it?" He hummed softly "Do what?" , "Date." You said playfully annoyed. "Well because we don't need to right now."

"Why not? Everyone else is."

He chuckled for a moment making you stare at him weirdly "See you just said the two key words, 'Everyone' and 'else' , we are not everyone else, we are Seungmin and Y/n we move at our own pace while everyone else is rushing we'll take our time so we'll last while others are running around like chickens with their heads cut off attempting figuring out where their relationships went wrong. I'm not leading you on but I'm also not rushing into us being official." He said all in one breath seemingly focused on getting you to understand, it was as if he'd been waiting to explain this to you. You were totally at a loss for words staring into his .

"Okay." You spoke softly not seeing how you could argue with that nor did you want to, Seungmin felt the need to explain further he stepped in front of you gently grabbing your other hand , a soft breath left his lips as he gathered his nerves to look at you so he could speak "Please do not doubt me enjoying the idea of us being an officially a couple, I love that idea and I'm well aware that we look like we're one already sometimes, that is what I'm working towards, but I see all these relationships that are being rushed into and failing and I don't want that same outcome for us, I know this sounds like a load of-"

"Seungmin!" You semi yelled to grasp his attention and stop his rambling as he gazed into your shining orbs "If I doubted you the first time you explained it I'd be gone." You giggled. "Oh thank God." He breathed out "I'm okay with taking things slow just as long as it ends up somewhere." You assured, "Great and it will! Like my dad says, we have to walk before we run, that was his motto for a few years while dating my mom , they took their time and still are but as husband and wife." Seungmin said proudly.

You felt your own smile appearing seeing this as a great moment to tease him "So wait, you're saying that in a few years we may be married if we take our time?" Your devilish grin appeared quickly after your question, Seungmin looked into your eyes searching for signs of bluff which he found as you fought to keep your laughter In "Ha Ha nice one , let's get you home." He sarcastically spoke pulling you along to walk again.

-

-

A/N ' The original title was different which would explain the hypothesis and was supposed to be longer but I accidentally cut the ending thinking I hit paste, so I was too lazy to rewrite it.

[purintarts]

Water breaking with the crews

Pregnant MC broke her water during a small RFA gathering... WHAT?!

MC ends up with 707 and V is alive (yay!) AU

It was supposed to be just RFA gathering... I got carried away... So... enjoy?

Comment, like and reblog is appreciated!

Shall we start the party? Click to enter!

The gathering was held at the Choi’s residence. Everyone was scattered about. Saeyoung trying to prank Yoosung with one of his gimmicks but  failed miserably as Jaehee interferes, Zen and Jumin are getting into one of their argueements, Saeran and V sat across one another. Neither spoke a word but only glances that holds a lot of emotions.

It’s been 5 years since you had join RFA, 3 years married to Saeyoung and now carrying the first child of the two of you. If there was one word that could describe those years it would be.... eventful.

There were several parties that were held, relationships were bond and a development to all characters. 

Yoosung is now a vet in a animal hospital, Zen had went into movie business and had a few singles (he was a musical actor after all), Jaehee resigned about a year ago and opened up her coffee shop, V had gotten his surgery and began shooting again, Saeran wasn’t completely healed but he was healing, he had even took a part time job to improve himself and there is you and Saeyoung.

It was tough during the dating years with his job and his brother. At one point your relationship took a turn downhill but then after a few arguments, confrontation and a push from the lord himself, you can’t deny the bond you two had and how you two were made for one another.

Saeyoung took an arrow on his knee and you took the ring on your finger.

Everyone was happy but of course there were dark days but that’s life.

“Hey babe, you mind if I open the wine Jumin gave us?” Saeyoung asked as he held it up. As much as you want to taste it, you know you can’t but that doesn’t mean you have to ruin for everyone right? (plus jumin always brings wine whenever he comes over. You need to invite him often once the baby arrives because you’re going to need them)

“Knock yourself out” you waved your hand as your husband proceed with popping the bottle open with a knife. One of his expertise. 

Drinks were passed around so was food. Saeran had cooked the meal today while you help on the sidelines, the twins didn’t want you to get tired especially nearing your due date, Saeyoung can’t cook so he handles the cleaning.

But you have a feeling Vanderwood had a hand in that because Saeyoung doesn’t clean that perfectly and you swore you saw a brunette man leaving the house one night after Saeyoung promised to clean after you went to bed.

They all helped to clean up after the meals ends. Yoosung was passing the boxes to Saeran while Jaehee helped wiping the table. Jumin tried to help but the director knew he couldn’t help much because of his non existent cleaning skills so he chatted with V instead while cleaning their own mess. Zen was helping the Saeyoung in the kitchen.

As you passed the napkins to Saeran, you had the urge to pee (the feeling comes every 10 minutes and it annoys you a lot) so you got up to rush to the toilet. However, you realized the urge was a little different.

After taking 6 steps, you felt something pop and your legs was soaked. Oh dear did you just pee?

This. Is. Embarrassing.

Zen walked out from the kitchen and wanted to walked passed you when he slipped and fell squarely on his butt. 

“What the- Oi Luciel! I think you got a leak here! Gah! My butt!” Zen whined as he carefully stood up, rubbing his butt as he tried to search for the leak on the ceiling.

“Ha? Leak? I’ll take a look later!” Saeyoung shouted from the kitchen

“MC, I think it’s better if you come here, It will be bad if you slipped” Jaehee took your arm

“Jaehee... what is the colour of the liquid?” you asked as you could feel the texture was different from pee with your feet. Jaehee widened her eyes when she saw the bottom of your dress was soaked

“Clear”

“SAEYOUNG!!!” you yelled

“What?!” he yelled back

“I THINK MY WATER JUST BROKE!”

A loud crash which sounds like glass was heard.

Jaehee held your arm as she stared at you in fear, Zen froze rubbing his butt, Yoosung gaped, the two best friends stared in shocked and Saeran cursing at his brother.

You begin feeling anxiety, panic and fear filling you up as you stared at each faces.

The person who moved first was Zen because he tried to take a step when he slipped and fell again. Yoosung approached you when he saw how you’re breathing was uneven and held you arm to lead you away from the puddle with Jaehee.

You told Jaehee to get a towel for Zen and she rushed off. At the same time, your red headed husband finally showed up talking to himself like a checklist.

“What do I need what do I need?!! Uhh... CAR KEYS RIGHT! CAR KEYS” and he rushed off to god who knows where

Saeran immediately ran off into the baby’s room while Jumin was dialling on his phone “Luciel is panicking too much- Hello Driver Kim? I need you right now- wait no perhaps we should call the ambulance instead?” Jumin wondered and V widened his eyes

“I don’t think she needs the ambulance? I mean we got cars?” V raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask confirmation but you couldn’t hear a word they were saying

“You’re right Jihyun. Driver Kim, get the escorts” Jumin said

Zen finally dragged himself up away from the water puddle and Jaehee threw the towel she had gotten from Saeran and spread it on the floor. The most interesting part is Yoosung and you could see how he matured a lot.

“MC, breathe! Stay calm and breathe! Seven hyung will get here soon” Yoosung rubbed your back as he sat you down. He should be a human’s doctor instead of a vet.

“I GOT MY KEYS WHAT DO I NEED NEXT?! AH! THE BABY BAG!” Saeyoung yelled as he walked in the living room

“I already got the baby bag! The hospital!” Saeran shouted with a bag in his arms

“THE HOSPITAL! YES!” Seven fumbled with the front door 

“LUCIEL! YOUR WIFE! YOU ARE FORGETTING YOUR WIFE!” Zen yelled 

“I KNOW!! I’M GETTING HER AFTER I OPEN THE DOOR!” 

“CALM DOWN AND STOP SHOUTING BOTH OF YOU!! YOU ARE MAKING MC NERVOUS!” Jaehee shouted

“I’M THE ONE GOING TO LABOUR HERE WHY ARE YOU ALL SHOUTING INSTEAD?!!” you yelled 

“Get her to the car!” Yoosung said and Saeyoung ran over to you to helped you get to the car

“Shoes! I need my shoes!” you said as you practice your breathing and V immediately put a pair of your flats in front of you

Slipping it on, you waddled your way to one of Saeyoung’s sports car which Saeran cursed at him for it.

“We’re bringing a pregnant lady here! You should take the sedan!” 

“I panicked! Get me the other car keys Saeran!”

“You are unbelievable! You’re not ready to be a father”

“And you are?”

“Genetically speaking, that kid is also my kid because we’re twins!”

“YOU CAN’T BE THE DAD I’M THE DAD”

“GUYS! MC IS GOING TO LABOUR WE CAN CHOOSE THE FATHER LATER” Zen shouted as he slapped on both of their tomato heads

“MC, let’s take my car” Jumin lead you away to his Mercedes that just arrived and there was motorbike escorts. You would marveled at this usually but today is not the day

You could feel the contractions starting and the anxiety you had just made you follow anyone who took your hand right now. Jaehee wrapped your coat around your shoulders which she had gotten from the hooks and you were glad she took the long one because your dress was soaked.

“Do you think I got time to change my dress?” you questioned but the contractions were telling you otherwise 

“Just go to the hospital first! I’ll grabbed some change for MC and meet you all there!” Saeran threw the baby bag at V who took it willingly before getting into the car.

“Wait! We can’t all fit in the car!” Yoosung said and indeed the car could only fit four minus Driver Kim.

Therefore it ended up with you (obviously),Saeyoung (he is the father), Jumin (he only trust Driver Kim to drive him) and Jaehee (girl support).

The others will meet you all at the hospital. 

“Saeyoung, call the hospital!” you waved your hand at him and he immediately took out his phone. His hands were shaking in excitement and anxiety that he could barely scroll his contact list for the hospital’s number.

“Hello this is Choi Saeyoung, My wife is MC and her water broke and we are on our way to the hospital” he spoke, trying his level best to explain what is needed to explain.

Saeyoung was terrified. He had prepared himself and read books for this moment and yet, his mind was blank and he couldn’t even think even the most basic thing about labour.

Well, he knows you’re going to feel a lot of pain.

“We can relax? But my wife- oh. 12-24 hours? Alright, Thank you” Saeyoung hanged up “They said we should take it easy because you’ll go to labour around 12-24 hours”

“Easier said than done” you slowly let out your breath before inhaling once more. Saeyoung followed your lead and did your breathing exercise with you.

“Oh well, the faster the better” Jumin stated before typing something on his phone

The ride to the hospital was quick and everyone there was surprised. Especially with all the escorts that accompanied you. You could see some of them murmuring to one another while staring at the car.

As you got down, a wheelchair was given to you and they lead you off to the maternity floor. Everything was so slow and yet so fast.

Next thing you know you were checked in a room waiting for the time to come. You closed your eyes as you tried to relaxed yourself, Jumin and Jaehee left and there was only Saeyoung left. He rubbed your back to give you some comfort as the time kept ticking.

The doctor had said that your cervix had began to open and for now, all you could do is wait until it’s time. Since you had plenty of time, you had told Saeran to take it easy and not to rush to the hospital. (well Saeyoung told him but you ordered your husband so)

Several hours had passed since you arrived when Saeyoung’s phone suddenly rang.

“Saeran where are you? You’re at the lobby? Yea okay, I’ll be down” Saeyoung hanged up and rubbed your back “Babe, I’m going to bring Saeran up for a while can you wait for a moment? He also had gotten the things that you requested”

You nodded and he kissed your forehead “I’ll tell Jaehee to company you for the moment okay?” he said and he ran out. 

No later than a minute, Jaehee walked in and tried to distract you while talking to you. A few minutes later, a doctor walked in to check you up.

“We’re moving you to the labour room, your cervix is fully open you can call up your husband to come up” she said and you nodded. Grasping Jaehee’s hands firmer. 

It was time.

Saeran managed to clean up and lock up the house before he left for the hospital. It took a while but since nothing happened yet, he took his time. After meeting up with Saeyoung, the brothers went up to the labour level.

“Saeran, I need to pee badly! I’ll be right back and you can go to MC’s room in 287″ Saeyoung said as he ran off to the nearest men’s. He needs to get ready because who knows how long the labour would be and what if he had to pee halfway?

MC needs him.

Saeran shrugged and went to the designated room when he realized it was empty. Was he in the wrong room? MC’s name was written on the plate card above the bed so he must be correct.

Setting down his stuff, a nurse came in to take MC’s check up details at the clip hanging at the bed was surprised to see Saeran there.

“Mr.Choi! Your wife is in the labour room! Please follow me!” the nurse dragged Saeran to the labour room. The moment he walked in he was like a deer in headlights.

“Mr.Choi! Please take a seat, we shall begin shortly” the doctor said and Saeran stuttered at he saw how everyone in the room looking at him, expectantly except MC who was confused but was in pain.

“I’m not-” Saeran got cut off by a nurse who sat him down and he could only stare at MC with wide eyes as she grasped his hand.

“Where’s your brother?” MC huffed 

“Toilet break” Saeran said

“Mrs.MC, you can begin to push now” 

“WHAT?!” Saeran gaped 

Saeran could feel his hand losing it’s circulation with how firm MC’s hand was grabbing his. This may genetically be his kid but this ain’t his and if this is how it’s going to be, he doesn’t want his wife to suffer giving birth.

He wasn’t in the labur room for long and he already wanted to get out. 

Where the hell is his brother?

Speaking of the devil, Saeyoung burst into the room with a nurse ushering him in and the two twins locked eyes with one another. Both terrified.

The nurse who ushered Saeyoung in was confused but she leave it as that since Saeyoung took MC’s other hand. The Choi twins knew that they had to bond more but they didn’t expect to bond during labour.

Oh the pain, you couldn’t careless about the two tomato heads except the pain. Is this how your mother felt like? you felt like calling your mother right now and apologizing to her. Why does your mother lived so far? Why can’t she get here sooner?

“Push!” 

No one knew how long had passed. But the twins were pretty messed up as much as you were. Everyone was sweating, hair disarray. Saeran wanted to get out but at this rate, he wouldn’t dare. Saeyoung was whispering comforting words, giving you the motivation to push.

Everyone just wanted this to end especially you. Thankfully, it did.

“Congratulations, it’s  a beautiful baby girl!” 

The nurse who wanted to give the baby was confused on which twin was the father and ended up giving the baby to you.

“Welcome to the world little tomato” Saeyoung caressed her cheek as his lips trembled, tears falling from his eyes. 

“Thank you MC, Thank you” he cried as he kissed your temple and Saeran slowly back away to give you two your moment. He walked towards the doctor, avoiding his eyes from seeing your bloodied vagina.

“I’m the uncle, I can leave now right?” he said and the doctor nodded and he left

You and Saeyoung on the other hand was cooing at the new addition to the family, your husband couldn’t stop kissing you and thanking you.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“BEHOLD! THE BABY GIRL!” Saeyoung showed off his daughter to the RFA members which they couldn’t help but cooed and congratulating both of you.

“I need to get a wife” Jumin said as he crossed his arms

“For the first time, I’m agreeing with you” Zen nodded