#yes i traded one curse word for another

[hxnbi]

⸻ ɞ how they would show their love ﹒﹒wind breaker boys

꒷꒦ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi, choji tomiyama, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita x gn. reader (separate)

did i wound up going overboard with all the characters i like and proceed to write over 2k words? yes. am i going to stop? never

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ♬﹒♡

Attempting to flirt with a guy like SAKURA, or even show any kind of affection, is already beyond hopeless, for the second you approach him with the intention of initiating affection, regardless of what it is, his entire face goes crimson. The guy's flushed face is redder than a traffic light, you like to say, only to then get a mouthful from Sakura that he isn't blushing, and it's just that the weather feels hot. It’s not him. So stop looking at him like that!

Yeah, right. Hot in the middle of the damn winter.

Sakura loves and shows affection through his actions, most of them somewhat unintentional and subconscious. He might brush a stray hair from your face while you're eating together, make sure you're walking on the inside of the sidewalk, or quietly leave your favourite snacks where you can find them—only to then flush into a deep crimson when you bring up his romantic gestures. Because to him, he really doesn't think before he acts, and yet does so tenderly when with you and you only.

It's these small gestures that speak volumes about his feelings for you. And lord take mercy on anyone who decides to poke fun at you or comment on a singular "bad" thing about you. Whoever makes fun of you or even dares to comment on what he deems as poorly about you and your delightful character is in for a world of hurt. He can and he will throw hands. Sakura's protective side surfaces, and he will immediately start burning up like a wildfire you can't put out, ready to defend your honour at a moment's notice, even if that means firing back against his own gang members and friends.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一  ─ ♬﹒♡

The physical manifestation of a lovebug. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, and more—you name it. Did I mention that he loves, loves, loves physical affection? UMEMIYA is all over you, to the point where you can hardly move whenever his arms encircle you, just like a little cuddly bear. It certainly gets more than a little awkward when the other Furin members are around, watching your and their leader's affectionate moments and PDA happen in real-time, but Umemiya doesn't care. If anything, he’s all for it! That just means that others will for sure know that you’re taken and you're his.

His love is open, unrestrained, unabashed, and utterly shameless, a stark contrast to his model demeanour as the leader of Furin. How this guy can act like this and also beat people half to death is beyond comprehension in their eyes. And as the leader of Furin, he's also like your protector. You would never need a bodyguard when you have your boyfriend by your side at all times of the day, one way or another. He's there from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. His presence may be both comforting and overbearing at times, yet you wouldn't trade his ceaseless companionship for the world, knowing he'll always be there, and likewise, you'll always be there for him. 

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛  ─ ♬﹒♡

SUO is calm and calculating, his sharp mind is always a step ahead of others, but most importantly, he's loyal to a fault. His ability to anticipate your needs and understand your emotions without you saying a word is both a blessing and a curse. Suo is intelligent but arguably one of the most mysterious guys in Furin. A complete "stick in the mud," Sakura would say with a peeved expression of distaste. He can read you like a book, which can be irritating at times—the way that he purposely acts like a know-it-all, all with the intention of pissing you off that day—all the while keeping his own thoughts private. While you appreciate his attentiveness, his tendency to withhold his own feelings can be frustrating, especially during the times when you need his emotional support the most. 

Despite this, Suo's actions speak volumes about his devotion. There was more in his mind than you originally thought of him. Suo might not verbalize his true feelings often, often masking them feom under his aloof facade and honeyed words, but his loyalty ultimately shines through in the little things he does for you. Because when it matters the most, Suo is there, all behind that expression of his. His faint, knowing smile and just the air that surrounds him only deepen your curiosity about what was behind that eyepatch of his. But only you could see the vulnerability hidden beneath his composed exterior, his silence often hiding a plethora of emotions that not even words could ever fully begin to express.

JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ♬﹒♡

If Umemiya is considered protective over you, TOGAME is even more so fiercely vigilant in his watch over you. At first glance, he appears stern and unapproachable—it certainly was to you—with his glasses covering the hearts in his eyes. However, once you got to know him, you discover a sensitive, caring guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. And that is precisely who Togame was.

His affections are subtle but deeply felt. He remembers the most minor details about you that many would either forget or deem as not important, but not to Togame. From your favourite book to the way you like your tea, he's always there to lend a hand or offer a quiet word of encouragement when you need it the most, and his protective nature means he's always looking out for potential threats, ensuring your safety without ever making a fuss about it. All your pretty little head needs to worry about is feeling cherished and loved.

TOMA HIRAGI | 柊登馬  ─ ♬﹒♡

If there's even a slight chance that someone or something even laid hands on you with the intention of hurting you, HIRAGI would never in his life let that happen, even if it meant using his own body as your shield. He knows that being in a gang attracts a lot of enemies, and through that, increases the possibility of putting you in danger. Because of that, Hiragi is always on high alert. And if he’s not around, he’ll either ask Sugishita, Umemiya or “Othello-kun” to help out and ensure your safety. Why they even bother to accept his request is beyond me, but his concern for you was always evident, and they knew that. Hiragi puts your safety above all. You hate that he puts himself at risk, but you can't deny the comfort his presence brings.

Hiragi’s anxiety manifests as hyper-vigilance, which can sometimes backfire when you become hyper-sensitive and worry about his health. Your love for each other goes deep, as, despite his protectiveness, there are times when Hiragi needs your comfort, too. He's practically a bundle of nerves all, for better or not worse, wound into a singular individual, partly due to Umemiya's constant nonchalance, which only heightens his anxiety. You often find yourself being the one to soothe him, reminding him to breathe and take it one step at a time. His commitment to your safety and peaceful life away from all the chaos he is entrenched in is firm as a rock, even if it means pushing his own limits to ensure that happens.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子  ─ ♬﹒♡

His constant mood swings are something that you were well aware of when you started seeing the boy, for sure, but CHOJI's love for you is undeniable. No one could ever doubt that. Not even Togame, who witnessed firsthand how devoted Choji was whenever in your presence. It was refreshing, in a way, to see Choji like that. To be truly carefree and unburdened and not compelled by the turmoil in his own mind. He wasn't driven to seek solace in conflicts and fights or to find joy and his longing for “happiness.” For whenever he found himself in your company, happiness was not just a possibility but an inevitability.

He's always ensuring, whether you like it or not, that you are aware of his feelings and affection for you, even if it means drilling the same ramblings into your ears for hours on end. Despite his erratic moods, he's a sweet presence to have around. His ramblings often turn into heartfelt confessions and declarations of love, making you smile even on your worst days. Moreover, Choji has a knack for lightening the mood, and his energetic personality is a welcome contrast to the more serious members of your inner circle.

Did I already say that he's energetic? Well, Choji is a ball of exuberance, and he doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to making you feel loved. He's like a burst of sunshine, brightening your day with the infectious enthusiasm that can make anyone smile. No matter how anarchic his emotions get, his love for you, regardless of circumstance, will never change. 

REN KAJI | 梶蓮  ─ ♬﹒♡

KAJI is the kind of guy who silently stays by your side. It's a comfortable silence that you've grown to love and appreciate, with his quiet presence being a constant source of comfort. He's not one for grand gestures or flowery words of affection, and you're well aware of that, but his advice and insights are invaluable. Whenever you face a problem in your life, Kaji is there, offering a solution with a calm, measured approach, even if he does throw in a couple of swear words and cusses here and there when at times losing his cool. It's the thought that counts.

His silence is not a sign of indifference but of his thoughtful nature. He listens far more than he speaks, and his actions reflect his deep care for you far more than anybody else by a landslide. Even the man-child that is Umemiya notices. Though he may not be as outwardly affectionate as others, his loyalty and his presence alone at your side speak volumes about his love for you, nothing more. Kaji's quiet strength is a pillar you can always lean on, his love expressed through every considerate action, whether big or small. 

KYOTARO SUGISHITA | 杉下京太郎  ─ ♬﹒♡

Another one who cannot physically use words to communicate for the life of him. Everyone has seen SUGISHITA's loyalty to Umemiya, but how exactly would that loyalty manifest if it were directed towards you, his significant other, arguably the most important person in his life? He's fiercely protective, and that's putting it lightly. Whoever dares to harm you or speaks to you deplorably, there will be hell to pay. Quite literally.

Sugishita the definition of "actions speak louder than words." He's not a romantic, he's not a flirt, but what he is—more than what everybody else is—dependable to a fault. Any kind of affection will have this boy's brain reloading and scrambling. Sugishita is more similar to Sakura than most people may assume, something that Sakura will never admit to, not even on his deathbed. And the one time he did, using the nickname "baby" all the while saying all that with the unintentional expression of a homicidal maniac had not only Umemiya (the idiot who gave him the "advice" to try being romantic for once) bawling his eyes out in laughter but also made your face flush red in embarrassment, unable to utter a word.

...Was this really your boyfriend? 

His gestures, though subtle, are filled with meaning. Whether it's fixing something for you, helping to carry the heavier stuff for you, ensuring you have everything you need, or simply being there when you need him, Sugishita's actions are his way of showing he cares. Not even Umemiya could look and claim that he treated others, including himself, the same way he treated you. Sugishita’s not one for grand displays of affection—if he's even able to comprehend how to present that without having an expression that he's about to snap at any time—but his reliability and steadfastness are a comfort that Furin as a whole, and you, his one and only lover, appreciates greatly.

In a world of so much uncertainty, especially in such a gang-centric environment, Sugishita's consistent presence is a reassuring and refreshing constant. He's your silent guardian, always watching, always protecting his love—what was to you, an unspoken promise, but to him, a forever vow.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x

nerd!y/n)

summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining

words: 6.1k

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.

Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"

There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends. 

"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.

Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."

A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.

"What's the project, Millers?"

The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."

Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings. 

"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."

Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.

"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.

"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.

"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."

Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."

Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.

The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.

"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"

Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."

He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."

Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.

 "Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."

Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."

"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."

With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.

Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.

Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap." 

And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.

"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing. 

"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."

Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"

Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."

The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?

Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.

And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.

At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained. 

On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.

"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar. 

The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.

The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.

At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.

The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.

"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.

Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."

Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.

For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.

At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.

There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.

"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat. 

They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."

A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.

Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves. 

As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.

In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.

Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"

Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.

Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.

Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.

"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."

Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."

While on Y/N's end...

"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.

"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."

Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...

"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."

That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.

***

Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.

The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.

"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.

The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.

As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.

"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators. 

The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.

Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.

"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."

A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."

A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.

***

Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.

"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.

Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."

"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."

Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.

A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.

"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.

The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."

"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.

Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.

"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"

"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.

"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."

Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.

"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.

That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.

"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.

"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.  

A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.  

"Why?"

Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"

Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.

"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"

"That's not what I-"

"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo. 

He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"

"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.

A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.

After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"

Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.  

"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"

She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."

Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.

"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."

She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"

The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.

Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.

"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.

"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.

"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."

Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.

"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?

Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.

"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.

"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.

"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."

A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.

They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.

"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.

Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more.  It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.

Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.

"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."

Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.

Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away...  "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"

Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.

"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"

Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.

"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.

The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.

She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[daylite-writes]

A Healer’s Blunt Teeth - Yan!Capitano x Healer!Reader

(Pt 2 here)

In your homeland, the nation of war, healers are highly valued, highly sought after. This, however, does not grant them autonomy. Traded, won, and bought. That has been your life thus far. Now though, you’ve fallen into the possession of a man you know will never lose a battle.

cw: societal-typical captivity, Yandere-esc behavior, background death, non consensual touching/kissing, sharing a bed (romantic, but not sexual), consensual relationship, brief use of the word ‘master’ until Capitano shuts that down, time skip.

2.8k words

~~~

The sun was relentless, on the battlefield. Glaring down from the horizon, it was blindingly bright. It’s heat was so palpable it warped the rocky terrain around you. Your face, back, legs, all were drenched in sweat. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst part was the smell of the fallen bandits cooking under it.

You choked back a sob as another waft of the scent passed you. Rotting, seared. The battle was over, but didn’t dare to move from the spot behind a jagged rock you’d taken. Quietly, you cursed to yourself, “stupid, fucking—stupid. Gods, archons, fucking, idiotic—”

Idiotic team leader, idiotic fucking team. The scouts were supposed to make sure backup wasn’t within range, the talkers were supposed to intimidate them into to fork over their supplies, and the front liners were supposed to not fucking die should a altercation begin.

Apparently none of them did their job, because the moment swords were drawn, one of them sent a signal to a larger group of Fatui a ways back—the moment their backup arrived marked the start of the bloodshed.

They cut through your group with far too much ease. Trained. You didn’t dare peek out from your hiding place, but you listened to the ‘shirk, shirk, shirk’ as each bandit was double-tapped.

You bit your bottom lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, as footstepped creeped closer.

As a healer, you’d never been afraid of defeat. Even ones that had the entirety of the group you were with dead. But those defeats came at the hands of other Natlan people. Those were people who would spare the healer, finding better uses for you than death. The Fatui? No such promise. Surely they had their own, and in turn, you held no use.

The air was tense, silent, except for your stifled breathing and the click of the rifle as you struggled to load it. You swore internally, fumbling with the damned thing, before you heard a click.

You froze. The click was not from your gun.

“Drop it.” The Fatuus barked. You did so, weapon clattering on the ground, raising your hands in surrender, you kept your head dipped low. Unsteady breaths spilled from your lips.

“Please.” You begged, you weren’t a threat, you prayed they knew that.

One grabbed you, roughly, forcing you to stumble along as you were dragged into the blood smeared slaughter grounds. The sun, glaring in your eyes, made it hard to see. Eventually, the Fatuus shoved you, making you fall to yours knees—which sunk a little into the blood soaked mud under me.

The Fatuus said something, which you didn’t hear between your heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat pounding in your ears. It wasn’t for you—too formal and professional. You lifted your head—

The largest man you’d ever seen. Well, probably a man. Towering, with a helmet that looked like a shark’s metal maw shrouding his face in darkness. The blood pounding in your ears intensified. He was looking at you—he was looking at you—

You dropped your head down immediately, terrified of the man you’d been tossed before. Their leader, undoubtedly. It was a short lived reprice from his fearsome figure, as he soon grabbed your chin, dragging you to your feet and forcing your eyes to meet his void—

“You aren’t a bandit. You’re too scrawny, not toned, and you can’t load a rifle. You are for some sort of utility.” He tilted his head to look down over your body, before his eyes locked onto yours again. “Am I correct?”

“Y-yes—yes sir.” Your chest shook with every heavy breath. “I-I’m their healer.”

“Hm.” He said simply. The hand clasped around your throat and jaw twisted slightly, moving your head and body as he pleased. You let slip a sharp whimper, but didn’t dare say a word. He looked over you, appraising you like one would a horse or a fine good. Trying to determine your value.

“In the Natlan wilds, healers are usually bought, traded around between groups.” He lifted your head a little higher exposing your neck. What was he looking for? “Or taken, when a group died to another. Just one thing from which a victor is entitled to take. Hm. I wonder where you’ve been, healer.”

Too many places. From the moment you showed an innate ability for healing. Traded, won, bought off, defected to. Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as you met his eyes.

His mask hid all but the slightest trace of blue eyes and a sharp, but you swore you could see the glint of sharp teeth as he dropped out, letting you collapse onto your knees in the dirt.

He turned to his soldiers, with a booming voice yelled; “Kill any left alive, take all supplies of theirs you find.”

Then, he turned back to you, voice quieter, but pleased. You hadn’t moved an inch from where he dropped you.

“What do you think of the cold?”

~~~

Capitano was your new boss. Not the Fatui—Capitano specifically.

You stayed in his tent during the day, and slept in the corner at night. It wasn’t like you were told to sit there, but you’d rather not risk punishment for asking for a bed. You weren’t sure how cruel the Fatui were, how cruel he was.

Besides, it was familiar. Sleeping at the foot of your latest warlord. A decoration when you were not working. Like a fancy vase, or an exotic fur blanket.

He came back to the tent one night, the troops reeling from a small battle. You didn’t know what against, only that he took a seat on the side of his bed, undoing his armor, and turning to you, silently beckoning. You approached, sitting beside him on the bed, beginning to heal his wounds.

You wondered how many had seen under the armor. He was strong, toned, and monstrous. Scars etched out of his back held veiny black scars that had to be from the void, his teeth, at times, seemed shinier than his blades and twice as sharp. His eyes…

Oh his eyes.

There was nothing wrong with them. Not visually, but…

You shuddered as you felt them on you again, your muscles threatening to lock up. Heal, right, you needed to heal him. Don’t disobey, don’t refuse, don’t show fear.

“Calm down.” He commanded, and you suddenly realized how your limbs were shaking.

“Apologies, master.” You took a small breath, forcing your hands to move steadier across his ribs. A gash, probably from some rifthounds. They’d been hunting the abyss deeper into the mountains.

“Hm.” He said simply.

He never showed any pain as you fixed him, despite healing—against most people’s assumptions—being no pleasurable experience. You wondered if he even staggered when the beast cut through flesh. You wondered how many he killed before one landed the lucky shot.

Scars faded, having curled up into themselves until they dissapeared, you pulled your hands back. You were on his bed, on your knees as he sat on the edge, legs planted on the floor. You were practically under his arm, in order to gain access to his ribs, but you didn’t move away, and wouldn’t. Not until he dissmissed you.

“Done?” He asked, voice even. Gods, did he even feel any of it?

“Yes, master.”

“Good.” He inclined his head slightly. A thanks. You, nervously, lips parted slightly, looked up to him, taking a second to glance at his maskless face. Was… was he going to dismiss you, or?

He met your gaze, and this time you could not stop your limbs from locking up. You felt like a rabbit, with the eyes of a wolf locked onto you.

He lifted a hand, his fingertips abyssal, dipped in black ink. Gently, he cupped your cheek. The little gasp you gave was one of fear, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once again, he considered you, tilting and moving your head as he liked. “You’ve done well.”

If you could speak, you’d thank him. Call him master as the others you’ve served prefer, maybe bow your head. But no. Something in you, needed desperately, to remain very, very, still.

“You’ve served me well, for weeks, now. Not a whisper of what I look like among my men, not a peep of disobeyal from you. You haven’t so much as asked for a bed. I must wonder what has happened for you to be so… tamed.”

You said nothing.

“I think I could take you to the most beautiful place in Teyvat, and you wouldn’t dare ask to step outside my tent, instead awaiting my own permission. Hm.”

He tilted you head to the side, exposing your neck. This time, you began to shake. You’ve seen his teeth at times, they could tear your head free from your body—

“Captain?” You pleaded.

“Shhh. I’m not hurting you.” He whispered, you felt it more than you heard it, his hot breath across your skin. “Remain good and you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

He… kissed you. Your brain almost short circuited when his lips dipped down to your neck. It was gentle, even when sharp canines nicked your skin.

Slowly, your body relaxed, and he pulled you closer, he kissed your neck, like a lover. A reverent one. Before you knew it, you were sitting on his thigh, whimpering as he placed a hickey high on your neck, one not able to be hidden. Between your beating heart and his… affection, he stopped for mere moments, not to breath or take respite, but instead to murmur soft nothings, “good,” “thank you,” “my healer,”, before he planted another kiss somewhere new.

His attention continued on for far too long, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself, or where this was going.

“Master…” you said, panting, it took everything in you to not bury your head in his shoulder and bite your lip. You felt deeply embarrassed. This wasn’t the first time a member of the people you’d been claimed by paid… special attention to you. But it was

“Captain. You will call me captain.”

“Captain.” You forced out, softly. “Can…”

He waited, not kissing your skin as you figured out how to work your tongue. It would better, right? To be with him than against. A healer alone is doomed. You thought for a moment, before quietly speaking.

“Can I kiss you too?”

“Yes.” He growled out, far too fast. A little aggressive, but, okay—you lowered your head, planting your own kiss on his neck, as gently as you could.

He groaned a bit, the vibrations of it tangible against your lips. “Bite down.”

For a moment, your brain short circuited. What?

“Bite.”

Well then. Slowly, nervously, you sank your teeth into his skin.

His hand cupped the back of your head—archons you swore there were claws on them—and pressed your head a bit further down, forcing you to bite down harder.

The sound that forced its way from his throat was guttural, not quite a growl, but deeply animalistic and satisfied.

“Good… healer. Good.” He huffed out. The hand left the back of your head, and you took that as permission to release the crux of his neck from your teeth.

You couldn’t help but be shocked at the sight you left. A perfect set of teeth marks against his neck, little beads of blood dotting it. If you hadn’t seen it yourself a few times, you wouldn’t be sure he could bleed. At least, bleed red. He held himself like a god among men, and his soldiers seemed to put him on a similar pedistool.

Your mind circled back to his previous praise. Good. You did well, he was happy with you. You wondered if you would be allowed to sleep in his bed tonight. You wondered if he’d let you refuse.

Realizing he’d been silent for a time, you glanced at him, cold, icy eyes glittering behind lax eyelids. He was watching you.

Your chest was heaving despite the little effort it took, but his breathing was strangely calm, rhythmic.

You felt a hand run through your hair, you closed your eyes and bit your lip.

“It’s late. Sleep in my bed, should you like.” He said simply, and you opened your eyes. His hand was still in your hair, and you’d never felt so calm in his presence.

“Alright.” You spoke, the sound barely a breath.

You slept in his bed that night, his arm around your midsection. You felt like the woman in a painting with a name you forgot. She lounged within a lion's den, resting her head against one’s chest, sleeping beside an apex predator.

~~~

Capitano’s time in Natlan was coming to a close. And in turn, yours was as well.

You laid lazily on the strategy table, your head and chest slumped forward into your arms. Under you, a map of Teyvat, with various pins and marks. The path home. Capitano had been pouring over it even after his generals left, marking it every once in a while, or muttering to himself. You’d been waiting for him to finish for hours now.

For all his animalisticicity, his libido was strangely low. Even after months of his physical attention—kisses, bites, sharing a bed—it took you initiating for him to grant you anything. You were happy for this, you supposed. But it did make him difficult to manipulate, unlike many other men who’d oblige after you puffed out your cleavage and bit your lip.

So, you had to resort to other methods.

“Captain… I’m tired.”

“Sleep then. I’ll carry you back when I finish.” He didn’t look at you.

“At the table? Darling…”

“You were the one that wanted to come to this meeting.”

“Yes, the meeting. Not the… what is this? Were the plans your generals made not sufficient?”

“I’m merely going over them again.”

“Alright.” You weren’t getting what you wanted. Not yet. “Perhaps I should walk back to the tent.”

His body shifted slightly, an action that on him, was like the moving of glaciers, heavy and lumbering. “You stay by me.”

It was a reminder, a weighty one. You did not have to be his lover, but you were his healer, taken by right of combat. The only right that mattered in Natlan. He held dominion over you either way.

You did not have to be his lover, but god was life easier that way.

“Sorry.” You sunk back into your arms, feigning just enough sadness and remorse to make him uncomfortable, even if he was visibly still as a mountain.

“You know you are not allowed to move through the camp alone.”

“I do. I just forgot, the last few chieftains I served didn’t bother overseeing my location or sleeping arrangements.” You lied. They did. Very closely in fact. You were a goddamn healer by blood, very expensive in the country of war. You slept at their feet or in their beds, sometimes in chains. But such facts did not serve you in that moment. “This… supervision is new to me.”

He sighed, setting down his quill. “I suppose this is done. We can return to the tent.” He moved around the table, coming up behind your chair before sweeping you into his arms. Hook. Line. Sinker.

“My legs function, Capitano. I assure you.”

“They did not seem to this morning.”

“I’m a healer, I can deal with some strained muscles.” You bantered back.

“Oh, so me bringing you breakfast was simply a ploy of yours?”

“Of course it was, surely you realized.” You grinned into his shoulder, taunting. “And healing takes time, imagine what the soldiers would say seeing me struggle to walk, coming out from your tent?”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, I said I could walk.”

“I wonder, do you ever accept the fact you may not get what you want? Or must you claw at me until I indulge you?”

“With walking?” You grinned, finding a stance you could sink your teeth into. “Are you afraid I may run?”

“Do you think you could escape?” Capitano met your question with one of his own.

You hummed, eyes closed with a soft smile, not bothering to indulge him until he answered you first.

Your eyes shot open as the warm metal of his gauntlet tilted your head up by the chin. He looked over your neck, scarred with the symbols of his love, and gave a content, “Hm. No.”

You rolled your eyes, a little insulted. “I could escape if I liked.”

“Of course, my healer.”

You pouted as he let go of you, your face falling down into his shoulder again.

“Fear not though, my healer.” His voice had a rasping, growling edge to it, making your body shiver in the Natlan heat. “There will never be anything to run from.”

~~~~~

Just a little thing! Hope y’all liked it <3

[connorsui]

♡♡Angst with nanami because this man thought of you before he died ♡♡

The air was thick with the ruin of Shibuya, yet, for Kento Nanami, it had never felt lighter. He wasn’t in the desolate streets, nor surrounded by curses and shattered remnants of humanity. No, in his mind, he was far from here—far from this city, far from pain, from death. He was in Malaysia, on a sun-drenched beach where the world was simple, and the weight of life had slipped away, unnoticed. And you were there. Always, you were there.

In the clarity of his mind, you danced—graceful and unburdened, as if the very ocean had learned its rhythm from you. “I’ve always imagined her in front of me," Nanami thought, his lips barely moving with the words. "Twirling across the sand, laughing softly as the waves kissed her feet. That laugh, so gentle, like the sound of water lapping the shore—something eternal."

Mahito's blows landed with the force of fate, cruel and inescapable, but Nanami did not feel them. His body was breaking, yes, but it was as if he’d traded his senses for something better—a dream so vivid it seemed real. You were twirling before him, your hands outstretched, hair catching the wind, and Nanami thought he might reach you, might hold you, if only he took one more step.

He smiled faintly, his blood-soaked mouth twitching as his thoughts carried him further from the battlefield. “We spoke about forever, didn’t we? About a little home nestled near the sea, where the world’s burdens couldn’t reach us.” He could almost hear your voice now, warm like the sun, speaking of nothing but trivialities—what to cook for dinner, whether to walk or swim tomorrow. The small, unimportant details of a life free from the strain of duty.

Another blow landed. His body lurched forward, but in his mind, he was walking beside you. How strange, he thought, to have wanted something so desperately—peace, simplicity—and to be so close now, only to feel it slip through his fingers. "How cruel," he might have whispered, had the words found breath.

Mahito's strikes came faster now, and Yuuji watched in horror as Nanami’s body was broken before him. The younger sorcerer screamed his name, but Nanami wasn’t there. He was at the edge of something beautiful and irrevocable, the edge of eternity, where the life he dreamed of waited like a ghost—faint, unreachable.

But something tugged at him, pulling him back. Not enough to save him, only enough to remind him of the truth. “She’s waiting for me,” he thought, and the words became a desperate litany. “She’s waiting… she’s waiting…”

And she was. In that dream of Malaysia, where the sun was golden and the waves never stopped moving, you waited for him. But as Nanami blinked through the blood and the haze, reality began to bleed through. Shibuya returned. The screams, the curses, the destruction. The life he would never have.

“Nanami! NANAMI!”

Yuuji’s voice was desperate now, shaking him from the dream, ripping away the illusion. Nanami looked up, his eyes no longer clouded by hope or fantasy but by something heavier. The weight of his failure, the weight of goodbye. He would never walk that beach with you, would never see the future he’d promised. But in those final moments, it didn't matter.

He smiled at Yuuji, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him like salt on his skin, and with the last of his breath, he gave the only truth he had left.

“I leave the rest to you"

The dream was over. The beach was gone. You would always be waiting. But now, Nanami realized he would never make it.

[misguidedasgardian]

Hour of the Wolf (7)

VII. Pestilence

MASTERLIST

Summary: Unbeatable, dangerous enemies make their way through the Red Keep

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, SPOILERS IN WARNINGS, sickness, epidemic, people dying, angst

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 5 k

Notes: Alright, so there had been a few times skips through the chapters, since they got married it’s been like 2 months, and in here trough outs like another two. Sorry for any mistakes I wrote this in notes and barely choked it

“Anything else?”, you asked your council, “maybe something that you had been keeping from me?”, you were still punishing them with your tough words, even though it's been two weeks since the Iron Fleet situation

Tyland decided to chuckle, as to relieve the tension

“No your grace”

“There is something that had been brought to my attention, your grace”, muttered the Grand Maester, “concerning reports from the White Harbour”, Cregan raised his eyes, “just got the raven this morning… A strange disease has been spreading… people are getting shivers, fever, and then… perishing”

“How bad is it?”, you asked, then you looked at your husband

“The disease appeared first on the three sisters”, he said, “many are dead, half the population…”

“How come we haven’t heard of this before?”, you asked

“I do not know your grace, it appears the Vale wanted to keep it guarded, as they blame it on people from Ibbe, slaughtering the bunch, they did not want to raise alarms”

“For the gods”, you cursed, truly concerned, “I want you to keep communications open with theirs maesters, send them everything we might have on how to deal with this diseases, on the library, I will bet there is information”, you commanded, “also keep the line open with The Citadel, they must have even much information”

“Yes your grace”, said the maester, knowing that you did not said that lightly

“We will help as we can, but we cannot send help physically”, you observed

“Agreed, we need to discourage the spreading of the disease”, muttered Lord Celtigar, “In my travels, I witnesses many diseases, I shall help the maester on the gathering of information”

“That will be much appreciated”, you said, nodding your head at your maester of laws

“We must be careful of the ships and envoys that come from the Vale and from White Harbour, but at the same time, we must aid one of the most important trading points in the North”, determined Cregan

“I agree, with winter fast approaching, we cannot impair the North of their most important harbor”, you said, looking at the naked table in front of you, “how I wish we had the painted table in front of us”, you whispered

“I’ll arrange a well drawn map to be able to us here in the small council chamber”, muttered the Maester

“Thank you”, you said, relieved

“Lord Celtigar, I wish to know about Harrenhal”, you said, looking at your master of Laws

“I’m not gonna lie, events happened in that cursed place from which I have no explanation”, he muttered, “a man died in front of me, because the so-called Queen Witch of Harrenhal command it”, you frowned, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious

“Some say it was a well time bolt that made that man’s head explode your grace, but, I did not see any arrows”

“What of her?”, you asked

“She presented me with a boy, with blonde hair, she claimed it is Aemond Targaryen’s son, and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne”

You chuckled darkly, the audacity of your uncle, of openly calling your brothers and you bastards, developing a hate that led him to kill your baby brother, only to bed none other than a Strong bastard, and siring a bastard himself, if he had lived, you would have killed him again.

Specially after what he did to you

“We surrounded the castle, took it by storm, killing all the traitors, but, when we storm what would be the royal apartments… she was gone, her and the child, we do not know were she is, or how she could have escaped”, he said, looking at your face for any indications of what you were thinking

“Be honest, should I be concerned?”, you asked then

“I do not think so, your grace, nobody would believe her, and even if they did… I don’t think so, you are well settled in your throne, and… even so… other than the Hightowers, nobody has real reason to raise against you”, you barely nodded, “nobody has the strength, the kingdoms are still healing, and will be so for at least the next five years”

“Raise alarms, in case she is spotted”, you said only, you wanted to eliminate all traces of your uncles, treachery, and war, “what else?”

“The Blackwoods request audience”, muttered Cregan, “Lord Blackwood’s eldest daughter Alyssane is seeking for a husband, let it be reminded the Blackwoods were great supporters of your mother during the war, thanks to them we defeated the Baratheon Army, eliminating Lord Borros, and… The Riverlands turned black because of them”

“And they are welcomed in my court, I shall receive them with open arms, and a banquet in their honor”, you commanded

“I’ll make the arrangements”, muttered Lord Redwyne

“The Iron Fleet, or what remains, the flagship has been spotted sailing here, to King’s landing”

“Have they made their intentions clear?”, you asked

“They wave white flags, request an audience”, you only scoffed, “they claim that, they want to gaze upon the Dragon Queen”

“Of course”, you muttered, “let’s welcome them then, we are home, they are but a few, we shouldn’t be concerned”

Nobody opposed the idea, so they barely nodded

“Of course prepare escorts, I would not let them be for a second while they are here, eyes on them at all times”

Gazing upon the face of the Red Kraken himself gave you a sensation of… disappointment

You were disappointed of him, from the tales, stories of men that had faced him in open sea and also in lands, were the tales of a man that didn’t belong to the land of the living, rather, he had come from the darkest parts of the ocean ready to reclaim land back to the depths

A ruthless men, bloodthirsty, with no remorse or fear of death

“Your grace”, he greeted, bowing theatrically 

“Lord Dalton”, you greeted seriously

“The songs do not do justice to your beauty”

“Is that so?”, you did not like his tone, not the mock in his voice and features of his face 

“You are more than they say”, he continued

“And what else do they say about me, Lord?”, you asked mockingly, Cregan, by your side, glanced at you, clearly asking you to not engage

“They say men rule in your stead”, he said, you only smiled

“As I have proven, that is not entering true”, you smirked, he chuckled darkly

“That is true”

“So you raided one of my seven kingdoms… to prove me, test me”, you said, now more serious

“I wanted to see who sat the Iron Throne”, he said, “a dragon, or wolves and lions”

You grew bored of this character quickly looking for help in your small council and other lords gathered there

“now it’s clear to me, so I’ve come to offer… other services”, your eyes went back to him

“Services?”, you asked, you did not like the smirk of his face, “such as?”

“Well I’d offer my hand in marriage but… I see I’m too late for that…”, Cregan took a step forwards, anger taking a hold on him, “but I don’t mind being the second”

“You are overstepping”, your husband grunted.

He was not going to allow some guy just coming here and shamelessly think he could just… have you

“All Kings and Queens have lovers”, he said dismissively, “you don’t have to be the exception”

“right…”, you mumbled looking for the eyes of your Queensguard, to ask him to remove him, “I thought you seek audience to reintegrate yourself and your people to the rest of the realms, for the common fool, but you had just come here to make a mockery out of diplomacy”

“your grace you misunderstood, it is costumers for us ironborns to have salt wives… and rock wives”, he said, entertained, by you, you were getting angry, “together, we could have children not only with fire in their veins, but in their head as well”, people laughed, but Cregan was not amused, “worthy of the throne”

“That is enough”, you demanded, “I only need but one husband”, you said, and the court chuckled, “if you are here to mend bonds with the realm you might stay, Lord Dalton, otherwise and although I thank yo Igor your offering, I kindly reject it”, people laughed again and that did not pleased the Kraken, soon, he left and if he had his armada on its entirety, you would be weary, but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

The mood swiftly changed when another introduction was made

“The Lady Alyssane of house Blackwood” presented a guard, you’d think she would have come with the rest of her family, but she presented herself alone in front of you

She was one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen, also, her reputation precedes her. She fought in the war, she led armies, she killed hundreds with bow and arrow.

She was someone to admire

She was the head of her house until her little brother came of age

“Your grace, it’s an honor, thank you for receiving me”, of course she ceased the first word

“Lady Alyssane you are most welcome, I hope you find what you are looking for, you are welcome to stay at court as much as you need to”, she only smiled, bowing perfectly, she also looked at your husband and hand, but… you didn’t like I one bit.

Having the Ironborns at court was one thing, having the Blackwoods was another, it changed the dynamic in the entire court

The former were constantly and daily have dinner with you, and lady Alyssane would sit beside Cregan, and they would chat all night…

You didn’t like it, not at all

But it would be childish of you to chide Cregan for something he didn’t have power over, right?

“But I find that hunting with a spear… is it too slow” the woman giggled, and you could see the conversation had sparked something in Cregan, he was entertained, he was speaking of something he enjoys, a rare thing to find with him

Is not like you did not trusted Cregan, but it was still painful to watch, so you retired early, as many of the other women at court, and left Cregan, the men, and the lady Alyssane, drinking and laughing like old mates.

You were not worried or concerned, only tired by the events of the day.

Cregan though, as soon as you left, was left himself with a sense of emptiness, he found the situation uncomfortable, and soon, followed you

Cregan was on his way to your now shared chambers when he encountered little Jahaera walking in the same direction, a small red blanket in her arm, rubbing her tired face with the other 

“Little one, where are you going?”, as soon as she saw him she whined, hugging onto the hand of the nanny that was taking her

“I’m very sorry my lord, she woke up, and wanted to see the Queen”

“Leave us, I’ll take her”, he said, and she, with reluctance, let go of her tiny hand and walked away

He kneeled on the floor just in front of her, with a soft expression on his face

“Why can’t you sleep, little dragonling?”

“I don’t want anyone else to go away”, she whined, her teary eyes make him sad, “If I sleep, she’ll go away”, she explained

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly

“At night… my brother went away… then I went to sleep, and my mommy went away, and then my papa, he went away, when he went to sleep…”, she whined, bitter tears falling from her beautiful eyes

Cregan’s heart broke

“I don’t want my aunty mommy to go away too”, she said

“She won’t, I promise you”, he said

“How do you know?”, she asked, rubbing her eyes

“Because I will protect her with my life, us Starks, we always keep our word, did you know?”, he asked softly

“You will take care of my new mama?”

“I promise you little one”, he said, “and you know, I’m married to your mama, so..”, she only smiled, and hugged him. He hugged her back, stading up and carrying her to the chambers. “one more night you can sleep with your new mommy alright?”, he asked

Jahaera barely nodded again his neck.

She was already sleeping by the time he entered the chambers to find you looking at him with the softest eyes, and the most beautiful smile he had seen.

That little girl and your brother where your family, and he had married you so, they became his family, he needed to step up, and help you with those children

He was determined, he thought the very next day, as he finished his short prayers in the Godswood, he wanted to go back to the Keep, to speak to Ser Arryk about prince Aegon’s training, or the start of.

That boy was too very sad… he needed to look forwards, you needed to fill his mind with something more… history, philosophy, training, to keep him mind fed and occupied with something else.

He walked trough the beautiful garden, thinking about inviting you to eat something outside, that would make you happy

“I must say I’m dissapointed”, Cregan raised his gaze to meet the beautiful Alyssane Blackwood

“The Capital is not to your liking?”, he asked

“Well, no if the betrothal I was hoping to get is… already married”, now that surprised him, looking at her

“My Lady”

“You are a price I was hoping to catch”, she continued, smirking

“Well, you are too late”, he said, trying to make it lighter, with a smile on his face, but she was not releasing her predatory stance 

“A pity”, she muttered, looking mindesly at the flowers of the garden, “we could have been great you know”

“Probably”, he muttered

“Are you really happy here in the capital?”, she asked, “wouldn’t you have prefered a wife? A lady of Winterfell?”

“I would prefer no one but the one I gave my word to”, he said, now all serious, he was not going to be polite anymore, “and you are out of line, my lady”

“Just playing with what could have been”, she said, not altered at all by his serious words

“I thought the idea was to look for a match”, they both turned to see you approaching them, “not get into one”, you said bitterly

“Your grace”, she said, now alarmed, as she saw you approaching

“I think you overstayed your welcome, Lady Blackwood, since you found no prospects on this week, you best try somewhere else”, you said simply, standing by Cregan’s side.

She barely nodded, and bowed lightly

“Thank you for your hospitality your grace, but you are right I must take my leave, and hunt in other woods”, she muttered and then she left quite quickly.

You watched her lean and tall figure leave, she was beautiful, her eyes as green as forests, and her hair long, black and lustrous

“It is a pity, if she had been here sooner… maybe she would have managed to hunt you”, you whispered, and then walked on the other direction.

Cregan called your name, but you didn’t turn back, you just kept walking

Cregan haden’t entertained her, but her words still lingered in your ears. You had make him marry you, perhaps he would have preferred a real wife, a lady, a partner for him to take North and be a mother to his child and give him more, that supports him in leading his people, not all the way around

But it was too late now. 

What was done was done, is not like you threatened with your dragon for him to marry you, but still, the inavility of managing a match for yourself is what chained him to a life he didn’t even want.

You had commissioned a pathway from the gardens to exit the castle by a stone hallway, that led to the cliffs sorrounding King’s Landing, were your dragon rested, you wanted to see her, maybe even take a little flight. 

This stone hallway was tall, windy, and open, much like the one leading to the castle in Dragonstone, Cregan followed you closely

“I didn’t entertain her…”, he explained

“I’m aware”, you answered, but not stopping your movements 

“Please”

“Cregan”, you stopped turning to look back at him, “I’m aware you didn’t entertain her, but she is right, I can’t help but think in the “what if”, you explained, “what if I didn’t make you marry me? you could have been back in Winterfell, with your child and your people”

“Yes maybe”, he growled, “but I married you”

“Because of a pact you made when my borthers were still alive”, you said simply, turning to keep walking, but he grabbed you

“Not only because of that”, he growled, looking into your eyes, “I wanted to marry you”, he said

“Why?”

“Why!?”

“Why? because of power?”, you asked

“Not only that”, he said, looking intently into your eyes

“Because I’m broken?”, you asked then, “because I’m a danger to the country?”

“No…”, he said, you both into eachtoher’s eyes, he moved slowly, like you were some wild animal, and he palced his hand on the side of your face. “Because to me you are the most beautiful woman in the seven Kingdoms, because I desired you, you are what I have been promised”, you didn’t know what to say, “I will have half a life with you, and half a life away, but… at least I have something of you”, he said

You kept quiet, the world seemed to stop for a second, and all around you, only the two of you existed.

“I have never been much of a poet”, he said, chuckling darkly, “and I only must say, nobody would have make me marry you if I didn’t want you”, he said this time more darkly, you leaned in kissing him, he kissed you back, trapping your lips on his greedily

“I wanted you too”, you said, “because you and I… were ment to be together”, you said certainly 

“Fire and Ice”, he said, “nobody make us marry, we chose it, because we knew, together we could have everything”, he said with a husky voice, “power, love, a family”

“Together”, you confirmed, sealing your words with another longing kiss, “We need to settle in our roles as husband and wife”, you whispered with an entertained voice

“I’ll settle you in our bed as of right now”, he growled, “But I will settle for having you here…”

“No!”, you giggled as he grabbed you pulling you towards the grass on the other side of the passage.

He layed you down in the open, where anybody could see

“The nerve of that woman”, he growled over you, “of ever thinking I could have chosen her, instead of you”

“the audacity”, you chuckled 

“Perhaps we should have her watch as I ravage you”, he said opening the top of your riding gear, his mouth on the skin of your neck and collarbones

“Cregan Stark!”, you shrieked, “I didn’t know this side of you”, you moaned, as you spread your legs to fit his form between them. 

“We have the power, and our love… let’s make our family”, he whispered against your neck, “dark haired children worthy of the throne…” he mocked the words of Dalton

Cregan and you shared looks over the table, little smirks, you two were like two giggly lovers from the stories

“Concerns about the desease are increasing, despise out best efforts, it’s coming trough the port…”, muttered the Grand Maester, bringing the attention back to the situation at hand, “there is no control…”, he was interrupted when Tyland coughed, trying to hide it in a hankerchief, now you noticed that… he looked sickly

“Are you well, Tyland?”, you asked with concern, as the man looked possibly ghostly, pale, heavy sweat on his forehead

“Forgive me your grace”, he coughed, “I do not feel well”

Cregan stood from the table like a spring, and grabbed you, pushing you gently backwards towards the window

“Get away, hold your breath”, he commanded, all the men stood from the table, taking steps back from Tyland

“I’m well”, he tried to argue, but Arryk grabbed your other side, using his cape to cover your face, making you blind, but both men led you out of the room.

“Is this necessary?”, you asked, concerned

“Very”, growled Cregan, “the Winter fever has reached the Red Keep, take the necessary measures, nobody meets anyone, people should stay in their apartments”

“Yes M’Lord”, muttered Arryk

They finally released you in your rooms

“Wait!”, you called as they left you alone and were about to close the door, “what about Aegon and Jahaera?”

“We need to keep you separated”, he said firmly, “in case…”, your eyes filled with tears

“Yes I understand”, you murmured 

“We will keep them together”, he assured you, “nobody will see them…”

“Wait!”, you called as he was about to close the door, “stay here with me”

“Someone needs to organize this”, he said seriously

“Not you!”, you called

“I have to”, he said seriously, and he closed the doors, trapping you inside 

You were loosing your mind….

You had books, they brought you food and Cregan would come at the door and give you updates twice a day…

You had done all you could, you had commanded medicine to be send, as well as the knowledge to help the cities fight this, but they wouldn’t let you out, you hadn’t seen anyone in weeks. At least half the Kingdoms had fallen into madness and sickness

“Tyland… didn’t make it” Cregan whispered against the door, “10 servants didn’t either”, you shed bitter tears at the other side of the door

“Gods… Tyland”, you whined

“Alicent has fallen to the sickness as well”, he murmured, but you heard him alright

“What about Aegon and Jahaera?”

“They ask about you constantly, yet… they are in good spirits, with their Nannies who had also scaped this”

“Good”, you whispered, “please send word to Casterly Rock”

“Already did, those lucky bastards weren’t hit by the desease, neither has the Reach nor Dorne, it seemed it is stuck in the Crownlands, the Vale and the North"

"at least some of us are spared"

"its been a moon since Tyland was sick, we will get trough this", he said, "the worst is…", he got quiet, and you whined when you heard a cough

"Cregan?", you asked

"I'm fine, some dust sneaked his way to my throat", he said lightly

“Are you sure?”, you asked, grabbing the knob of the door

“Yes” he said, “A message has arrived from the Citadel from the maesters, I should tend to it” he said

“Please come back”, you begged

“Always”, he said, and left you

The next day… he didn’t came back

“His grace has taken abed your grace”, said Ser Arryk, “the maester is tending to him”. You opened the door, to his surprise

“Your grace”

“If the maester falls sick we are all dead, I’ll tend to him”

“No!” He said trying to grab you, but only one look and he desisted

You ran down the hallways and entered his rooms…

Cregan laid in his bed, pale, you could see the sweat on his forehead, and the shivers running up and down his arms and his whole body. You were by his side in a minute, grabbing his hand

“Cregan”, you called, but to no answer, his eyelids fluttered, he seemed like he was going to open his eyes, but he didn’t, instead he just mumbled something, sounded more like a grunt.

The Grand Maester didn’t lie to you…

Most… almost all of those who catched the fever perished…

You needed to prepare for the worst… and yet, your eyes filled with tears and a desperation consumed you, as you started crying silently

“Please don’t leave me”, you cried, “please”, you begged, grabbing onto his hand tightly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you”, you admitted, he squeezed your hand a little

“Rickon”, he whispered, in his feverish dreams, “my son”, you frowned, concerned, at the worry on his features even in his sleep

He was calling for his son, the son you had kept him from, the only son he had.

You placed your hand on your lower belly, then you placed his hand there

“You need to get better”, you begged, “your son needs you, the North needs you… our baby needs you… I need you”, you prayed, his naked chest was pearled with sweat he was burning up. You stood up removed your clothes and laid by his side grabbing into him, making sure your body stuck to his as much as you could, so you’ll lower his body temperature with yours, after giving him the medicine indicated by the doctor.

It all depends on him, and the gods.

Taglist.

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31

[meiieiri]

WHEN SHE LOVED ME

❁—SYNOPSIS: suguru geto was never the same after that fateful day at the foothills of mt. mushiroyama. but he was not by any means damned. how could he be knowing that he was so loved and adored by the one he lovingly called his little flickering light?

a/n: help i have five drafts on this page. three of them are 18+ and are practically finished but i’m too scared to post them :<

it had been exactly two decades since suguru geto first learned that he was different. he was seven at the time, and his parents had snuck out of their humble rural abode at around four in the morning to tend to the fields while their young son serenely slept in the adjacent room, happily drooling away on his childhood pillow, his little head filled with anything but worry. no one could have ever anticipated the sinister things that would transpire that uneventful morning.

it all happened so quickly. the senior mr. geto had just finished watering the last row of beets when a shrill cry pierced through the silent twilight and mrs. geto, the one that preceded you, sprinted towards the house like her life depended on it in a bid to reach her son and put him out of harm’s way. countless thoughts raced in her head: had a thief broken into their home, or perhaps some wild forest wolf?

none of those, apparently.

it came as a peculiarity to the couple to find their son bawling his eyes out, cowering under the protection of the futon’s blanket at an invisible phantom, a mere shadow on the wall of his bedroom. they dismissed it as a nightmare and consoled the then seven-year-old suguru. “it was just a nightmare, suguru,” his mother smoothed her hand down his back, soothing him. “it can’t hurt you.”

unbeknownst to them at the time, that was no nightmare, but an earthly curse born from ghastly human emotions. that was how suguru had been unwillingly dragged into this godforsaken trade. now, twenty years later, and with a family of his own, suguru no longer feared those phantoms on the wall — he loathed them, despised them with every fiber of his being though he was master to countless curses. but there was still one thing that struck fear into his heart like the foreboding doom that came from the heron-like sound of countless heavenly spears raining from the skies during the archaic battles of old he used to read about in jujutsu tech’s library.

nightmares.

he wakes up with a start and the comforter pools at his hips, his eyes darting around the room as if they were in search of something, his breath coming out in pants. it was just a nightmare, suguru, he thinks to himself, echoing his late mother’s words, as he tries in vain to banish the grotesque haunts of his youth from his head, it can’t hurt you.

he helplessly glances at your side of the bed — empty and cold, of course — you were out on a week long mission with your students and weren’t due to come home for another day or so. he pulls at the strands of his tousled hair, frustrated, and before he knows it, a few tears haphazardly slip from his bottom eyelids as he reminisces about his past failures. in his sadness, he does not hear the door to the bedroom open, creaking quietly as he is wracked by another round of painful sobs.

“papa?” startled, he looks up, instinctively wiping away the damp droplets from his face. his eyes soften at the sight. there she was, the petite jailer that held his heart ransom, standing behind the door, her trusty companion, the stuffed rabbit he helped you sew for her, tucked under her arm. she looks at him with sad eyes, hesitant to come in. “you okay?” she asks worriedly.

suguru lets out a tearful chuckle. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he should be the one calming her, banishing her nightmares away not the other way around.

“y-yes,” he tries to collect himself to make his way over to her but his daughter beats him to it. akari meets him halfway as he was about to stand up from the king-sized bed, throwing herself against his waist, her arms coming up to hug him as if by doing so she could rid her papa of all his troubles and worries. “oh, little love,” he sniffles at his little girl’s altruism, gathering her into his arms to sit her on his lap. “what’s wrong?”

she averts her gaze momentarily, her dark eyes warily scanning the room. at the tender age of five, she could already pick up residuals (much to suguru’s dismay). when she does not notice anything of note, she mutters out a single word: “nightmare.”

“you had a nightmare?” suguru asks, his hands finding hers, his fingers interlacing with her little ones.

akari shakes her head adamantly. “n-no,” she reiterates, insistent that her papa has misunderstood her. “papa…did you have a nightmare?” she waits for his reply with bated breath.

suguru contemplates on what to say for a long while, his hands absentmindedly playing with her smaller ones, his head bowed, almost in apology. at this age, in his young daughter’s eyes, he was her hero, one similar to those in her storybooks. he was supposed to be the archetypal knight that slayed dragons and laid waste to monster lairs, the prince that would sooner scale the highest towers, racing to the rescue of the princess who had fallen into a death-like sleep. if she was afraid or sad, it was his duty to make her less so. it was his responsibility as a father to take on an image of unrelenting courage. but he fears his own armor had gathered rust over the years, his claymore had dulled in countless battles that left so much ruin in its wake and his noble steed had long since been retired to the stables. he was no knight, nor was he a prince that his daughter could rely on. he was just plain old suguru.

but for akari, that was enough.

“…please don’t cry,” akari mumbles sadly, her tiny hands gently rest on his cold cheeks. she really is your daughter, suguru muses almost in awe at how much the two of you were alike in the way you both are able to keep him from falling apart completely. suguru leans into her touch, pressing their foreheads together, a special thing that only father and daughter could share together. “i’m here, papa.” even at your loneliest.

“…me too, little love.”

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - chapter 2

read on ao3 🤍 previous chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Chapter warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Also, Joel is pretty mean in this one, sorry xx Word count: 6.5k

_________________________________________

Chapter 2:

“Yes.”

The word leaves my mouth and the firm grip on my face disappears before I can prepare myself for the loss of my anchor.  

Joel’s hands retreat to rest against his thighs, fingers curling into tight fists. His head is turned away from me, scanning the crowd, tracking the movement around us. Without his grip, my body deflates and I blink, trying to catch my breath. The air pulls and pushes against the inside of my chest, forcing my mouth to remain open in desperate gasps which neither fill my lungs nor bring me any sense of relief. 

Mourners, witnesses, and survivors just going about their day crash into us from all sides. The square is becoming smaller and smaller as more people file past the stage where the wooden structure stands, where the bodies swing, where my - 

“Joel,” I bite out, my stare burning into the side of his face. 

His head drops towards me. When his eyes catch mine he winces as though caught off guard by the grief that’s splattered over my face. 

“What?” he demands under his breath as his gaze detaches from mine almost immediately, back to scanning buildings and people. I’m abandoned, alone in my confusion.

Someone crashes into me and I stagger to the side, into another man who growls out a loud curse and pushes me away from him. I’m lost in a sea of bodies and screams, my heartbeat roars in my ears as another elbow digs into my side and a foot slams on top of my own. 

I grunt in pain as I twist and turn in the waves of people. I can’t see Joel and, with every push and shove, I’m dragged closer and closer to the gallows. My hands reach out, grabbing at clothing and arms and anything that will stop me from moving towards my dad’s swinging body.

I want to scream. I can feel it crawling up my throat again as another shoulder carves into my chest, but I remember what Joel said. The awareness of guns scanning the crowd seizes my throat and I feel myself choke out a gargled yell that I couldn’t quite keep contained. 

Who are these people? What happened to my dad? Where is Joel?

He told me to trust him, that he’d get us out of here. But he let go, and now I’m floating helplessly in unknown waters, in a battle with no knowledge of my opponents. 

I’m spun around with the flow of people and my eyes catch sight of my dad. 

It’s like someone has reached into my lungs and stolen all the air I’ve so desperately consumed, like I'm being suffocated from the inside. My heart moves at a hummingbird's pace, rippling and thrashing against my thin jumper. 

For a moment I think that time has stopped, but, no, it's worse than that: time keeps moving. People around me keep pushing, my legs keep stumbling. If time stood still, if everyone would just stop moving for a second, I was sure that I could figure this out, that I could wake up from this nightmare. 

I’d realise that this is all a mistake, a misunderstanding. I’d realise that, no, that isn’t my dad up there, it’s someone else, of course. This is someone else’s nightmare, not mine. Please, god, can everyone just STOP. 

Please.

STOP.

I don’t realise I’m saying the words, screaming them, even, until the hand I’ve come to  intimately recognise slides across my open mouth. 

His chest is pressed against my back, his mouth drops to my ear. 

“Don’t turn round, don’t make a sound. Just keep movin,’” Joel growls in my ear.

Something resembling relief pumps through my bloodstream and, by some miracle, my legs don’t falter at the malice in his tone and I fulfil his demand. My legs keep moving, fortified by Joel’s own stride that shadows my own. 

I can’t see anything past the sea of people that I’m swimming through. But Joel does, and he grunts directions in my ear as we weave through the square. “Left” “Right” “Stop” “Keep goin.’” His hand has dropped from my mouth to rest casually on my shoulder, like he does this all the time. 

I realise quickly that this is a performance. Joel is a puppet master, pulling at my strings, pushing me around in some dance I don’t know the moves to. I don’t even know who’s in the audience, who is watching us… who wants us dead. 

I feel Joel stiffen against me at every shove I face as I try to follow his commands, and I hear him unleash low warnings to those who get in our way: “watch it” “move.” 

I shiver at the cold authority in his voice, and those around us do as well. I can sense, though, that Joel is holding himself back, that he could easily clear those who cling to us. But I have enough awareness to understand that Joel is using the violence of the crowd to our advantage; embracing the anonymity of being another stumbling victim in an ocean of people travelling in numerous directions. 

When the sight of legs and shoes give away and I begin to get a clearer view of the ground, I feel Joel’s grip on my shoulders tighten and I’m swept into an alleyway.

His movements are too quick and his hold on me is too strong for any protests to leave my lips. My back hits the brick wall hard and a choked gasp unleashes from my throat as my eyes flash up to meet Joel’s face which is once again turned away from me.  

We’re in a small alleyway, it’s dark and muggy, and as my eyes dart around the space I see tipped bins, leaking unfamiliar fluids onto the cracked concrete, and piles of discarded clothing against the walls. I shiver despite everything, despite the two hands that are holding firm to my shoulders, pinning me against the wall. 

“Joel, what’s happening?” I whisper. 

His eyes drop to mine. Joel is breathing heavily, he’s standing so close I can feel his chest rise with every quick breath. It takes me a moment to notice the ire in his eyes, but when I do, I press my back harder against the wall behind me.

“Told you not to make a sound,” he grinds out. His gaze is unfocused, darting between me and the street to my left which continues to pump out people moving in different directions, some escaping the horror in the square and some desperate to steal a look. 

“And you told me you’d get us out of this, but all you’ve done is lose me in the crowd and get us trapped in an alley,” I retort, enjoying the sudden anger that pulses over my skin. It feels much better than fear. 

Joel stiffens and his hands flex against me, increasing their pressure on my shoulders. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smartass,” he seethes with his jaw clenched, pupils flaring. 

I know I should be frightened by Joel’s anger. I know what he’s capable of, I know that he could leave me here to get killed and I know that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But for some reason, I feel a strange sense of immunity. 

In fifteen minutes, my entire world has gone up in flames. I’m standing in the ash pile, waiting for the next fire to catch. 

Joel’s anger isn’t a new threat, it’s an old one, familiar and predictable. The blaze that he ignites is one I like to run my fingers over, enjoying the heat of the burn. 

I tilt my chin up, meeting his narrowed eyes. “Tell me what’s happening, now.” 

He scoffs as his head swings towards the street, then after he’s satisfied that the crowd is still thick, his eyes find mine again. The anger is rippling off him in waves, along with something else that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in Joel: fear.

“You agreed to trust me.”

I shift to stand straighter. His grip eases to let me. 

“Trust only works if it goes both ways.” 

I watch Joel’s jaw move as he digests my words. Then, his eyes fly upwards, a long breath releases from his mouth and he purses his lips. 

My own breath huffs out of me when I realise I’ve won. 

“We took some weapons from the wrong people,” he reveals in a low, grumbling voice as though every word is a struggle. 

“You mean you stole them?” I challenge. Goosebumps trail over my skin as my brain fills in the blanks, jumping to conclusions.

Joel’s chin drops in a sharp nod. 

“Fuck,” I sigh as my eyes follow the movement in the street before returning to his black stare in the dim light of the alley. 

“So what? The people you stole from are the ones who - who,” my throat catches and I swallow roughly, unable to verbalise the reality that I’m confronted with.

Joel’s silence is answer enough. 

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes but I’m quick to blink them away. Anger still bleeds out of me and I’m not ready to stem the flow yet, it’s the only thing holding me from  breaking down. 

“Who’s idea was it?” I demand, pushing forward, forcing Joel’s grip on my shoulders to loosen. “To steal the weapons?” 

Joel straightens, standing taller. I can practically feel the rage rising in him. Too bad - I’m angrier. 

I plant my palms on his hard chest and push. “Are you the reason he’s dead?” I attempt to sneer but my voice comes out choked and raw. I watch as Joel takes a step backwards, his eyes somehow darkening further. 

My breaths grow heavy as I wait for him to retaliate; to deny my accusation or push back even harder, to pin me to the wall or even turn and walk away. But he doesn’t, Joel just stares down at me, his eyes roaming over my face as a muscle jumps in his cheek. 

I’m disappointed, I realise after a few seconds. I wanted the push back, I wanted the fight. So, I try again. 

“This is your fault, isn’t it? They’re here because of you,” I taunt, stepping into the space he vacated until my chest almost grazes his. My head is tilted up, my eyebrows are raised. 

Joel says nothing but I watch with satisfaction as his breaths grow sharp and fast and my snide smile lengthens. 

“You got my dad killed, and I’m gonna be next because of you,” I fume, lifting my hands to his chest again to unleash another inch of my anger. 

But my fingers don’t even graze the dark material of Joel’s shirt before his hands wrap around my wrists as he forcefully twists my body around until my arms are pinned behind my back, secured with one hand while the other wraps around my throat, pulling me against him. 

I struggle, shaking my shoulders, attempting to kick his legs, but with every retaliation I feel the grip on my throat increase.

My anger gives way to fear again and, as the red cloud clears, I realise that I’ve been walking along the tightrope of Joel’s fragile patience, and with those last words thrown his way, it snapped, leaving me dangling at the mercy of his sick punishment. 

Joel is sneering in my ear, I can practically feel the snarl on his lips as he grunts and pants while securing my complete submission. 

“Keep talkin’,” he taunts with a growl along the shell of my ear. I’m gasping now, my mouth is open wide but only a minimal amount of air is allowed to enter. 

I feel Joel’s laugh rumble against my back as his grip suddenly eases and my chin drops against his arm as I gulp down the precious air that he refused me.  

“I made a promise to your dad to keep you safe,” he hisses as I land another kick to his shin. I bite my lip when he pulls me closer and my eyes squeeze shut when his hand hovers over my neck like a warning. “But if I hadn’t,” Joel pauses and grunts out a harsh, humourless laugh. “I would’a left you out in the open for a bullet to find you.” 

My body goes limp in his hold. I’m still gasping, greedily swallowing air in case his hand once again finds itself wrapped around my throat. 

“I don’t want your help,” I manage to croak. 

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Joel drawls as he finally realeases me, and I stumble forward, my hands reaching up to cradle my neck before I spin around to face him. 

“Choking me isn’t a good way to get me to trust you,” I cough out, pinning him with my stare.

Joel considers me for a moment, his eyes skimming down my face until they drop to my trembling hands. He looks away quickly and I watch him blink a few times before he wipes a hand over his forehead and turns back towards me. Some of the malice has disappeared from his face. He looks tired, defeated, almost.  

“You already agreed, sweetheart,” Joel replies, but his voice has lost all its fight. “Only way we’re gettin out of this is if you follow my lead.” 

He’s right, I know he is, but my agreement gets caught in my tender throat. 

When I don’t answer, Joel steps forward.

I flinch.

He stops, immediately, and something resembling remorse ripples in his eyes. 

“Got it?” he demands slowly, carefully. 

I look out into the street. The crowd is starting to thin, if we don’t move now, we’re going to lose the cover it gives us. 

“Got it,” I reply. But my response doesn’t sound like a willingness to survive this situation he’s got us in, it sounds more like a sign that I've lost. 

………………………….

We walk side by side through the streets, Joel’s hand is wrapped loosely around my wrist. 

I keep my gaze forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of another. As we move, Joel murmurs quiet commands, altering me when he wants to turn a corner, letting me know that there’s no sign of the snipers, telling me to walk quicker. 

Soon, through the fear and horror that drenches my vision, I recognise where we’re headed. 

“Don’t tell me we’re going back to my apartment,” I whisper sharply. 

Joel doesn’t respond but his footsteps are harsher across the pavement. 

“Joel,” I hiss as I continue to stare straight ahead. “If people are looking for us, our apartments are the first place they’re gonna look.” 

His face whips towards mine and I know I’ve snapped his patience again. 

“We need a place to lay low, to figure this out,” he explains with a biting tone. “And unless you’ve been breakin the rules, no one knows where either of us live.”

My stomach drops but I don’t let my steps falter.

“Fine, okay.”  

My dad had strict rules to keep our heads down, not to make friends, to make sure that we were never noticed. By all accounts, we lived like ghosts in the QZ. 

Joel’s right, no one should know where either of us live. 

In theory. 

His name sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell Joel about the one person I gave my address to. But I can still feel the strength of his hand wrapped tight around my throat, warning me that my next misstep might hurt even more. So I keep quiet. 

I broke his rule, just once. Theo would come when Joel and my dad had left, knocking on my door, stripping off my clothes, dipping my body onto my mattress, grunting my name. 

It was casual, fun, inconsequential… right? 

I feel Joel tug on my wrist and I quicken my steps, head down as he leads me home. 

…………………….

My legs give out as I step into my apartment. 

I slide down the wall beside the door as the weight of my new reality is forced down on my shoulders. 

He’s dead. 

He’s not coming home. 

My ears are ringing, my heartbeat is screeching in my ears, drowning out the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he locks the door, steps around me and strides to the window, pulling down the makeshift blinds. 

The apartment is plunged into darkness until he finds the lamp and turns it on. 

Immediately, I’m coated in flickering yellow light and I have to cover my mouth to keep the sob from erupting. Or maybe a scream, I don’t know. 

Joel is talking to me. I can’t hear him but I can see his mouth moving and his eyebrows furrowing when he notices I’m not responding. 

He throws his hands in the air and turns, walking until he reaches the rug in my dad’s room. I squint my eyes when he rolls up the edge and opens the compartment under the floorboards that I hadn’t realised he knew about. 

When he turns back around, there’s a gun in each hand. 

Are they some of the stolen guns?

My hand drops from my mouth as he walks closer, and my chin tilts up to meet the look he’s pinning me with. His eyes survey my face, probably condemning me for the tears that wet my cheeks and the red splotches that stain my skin. 

I expect him to shout at me, to tell me to get up, to stop crying, to stop being weak. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Joel reaches out, gun dangling from his grip. 

I blink up at him, lines forming on my forehead as my grief stricken mind attempts to understand what kind of game he’s playing.

“Take it,” he commands when I make no move to accept. 

I shake my head quickly and drop my limp hands to the floor. 

“I don’t know how to use it,” I confess, exhaustion clipping my voice. My pride is overshadowed by my grief and fear as I reveal my weakness to the man who had held my life between his hands less than an hour ago. 

His eyebrows shoot to the roof. “You’re jokin.”

Despite my numbness, a fierce pulse of mortification still shoots through my body. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking,” I fume as I push myself off the floor and straighten my spine.

The gun hangs between us. 

I’m reminded of the night before, when it was me who handed the gun to my dad. If I take the weapon from Joel, will I meet the same fate? 

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, then cross my arms over my chest before my gaze finally lands on Joel’s face. He’s watching me with that reluctant curiosity again and I squeeze my arms tighter to shake the chill of his attention. 

Eventually, he shakes his head and pockets one of the guns. When only one remains in his hand, Joel nods at me.

“Watch.” 

His command has my eyes flashing to his hand, gripped tight around the gun. Joel’s veins are like ropes rippling under his skin as he waits for my full attention. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

His instructions are short and blunt but I find myself mesmerised by the movements he makes. Joel’s fingers look like they were moulded to wrap around the handle of a gun. They ache power and scream pain. 

I notice the blood on them, too. Blackness curled around his nail beds and a red tinge staining his knuckles. 

I force my eyes back up to his, and I swallow when I find him already surveying my expression. He looks like he’s taking note. 

“Understand?” he asks roughly after a moment. 

I nod, and accept the weapon into my hand when he tries again. It’s heavy, like the weight of what it means is dragging me down. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

Joel sighs and rubs his neck, his muscles straining under his shirt. 

“To protect yourself while I’m gone,” he says calmly, still watching me with close attention. 

“What? Gone? Where are you going?” questions spill from my mouth and Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling again before he turns and marches towards the radio by the window. 

I’m on his heels, matching his steps, begging for answers. Panic has attacked my chest, firing lightening bolts of fear throughout my body. 

When he doesn’t turn around, without thinking, I reach out a hand, meaning to land on his broad shoulder and force him to meet my questioning glare. But he catches it before I touch him. Once again, Joel’s hand is wrapped around my wrist and he holds my arm in suspension between us, reminding me of the power he holds in his body. 

“Stop askin’ so many questions,” he grunts before dropping my arm.

I choke out a laugh. It’s so absurd, his absolute refusal to let me in on his plans. 

“Are you being serious? You’ve told me next to nothing about what is going on and now you’re leaving? I have a right to know where you’re going,” I argue, my words are frenzied and breathless. 

Joel dismisses my desperation with a cruel shake of his head, like I’m a child who’s reached their curiosity limit.

His hands curl into tight fists and I involuntarily take a step back until the back of my legs meet the cushions of our worn couch. 

Joel tracks the movement with a sharp inhale. 

“I’m gettin’ us a way out of here, that’s all you need to know,” he answers before turning and stalking towards the apartment door. 

“Out of the QZ?” I blurt out, my voice loud and pleading as I follow his brutal path. 

“You wanna stay here and get killed? Be my fuckin’ guest,” he calls over his shoulder. His threat is meaningless after confessing the vow he made, but a part of me wonders how far his loyalty to my dad goes. 

I swallow down the scream of frustration that threatens to erupt from me, and I dig my nails into my palms, imagining that they’re wrapped around his throat instead. 

“I’m coming with you,” I declare, straightening my spine, trying to appear taller, more capable. 

Joel freezes at my words, his hand paused on its journey to the first lock on the door. I can feel the weight of the sigh he releases before he turns on me, striding forward until he’s towering over me, consuming the space around us with his dominating presence. 

I can practically see the seconds that we’re wasting ticking behind his eyes. Every moment is on the clock now, counting down to those snipers finding us. 

“You’re stayin’ here, end of story,” Joel proclaims with a tilt of his head that has goosebumps rising again on my skin. 

I picture Joel walking out the door, leaving me here alone, unable to shoot, unable to fight, just waiting for him to return. Left to face the cold fury of my grief in this dark apartment that’s coated in memories of the man who now swings from a thick rope.

I consider begging, getting on my knees with my hands clasped and staring up at Joel while I plead with him not to leave me here, to let me come with him. 

I hate this. I hate depending on Joel Miller of all people. My dad’s psychopathic friend. 

But he’s all I have. 

“Don’t leave me,” I plead, scanning his face, searching for any sign of a living breathing person behind the wall of stoicism that he’s built. 

I watch as his eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. 

“Grow up,” Joel scolds, and with one last withering look, he returns to the lock.

His words are like a blow to my stomach and I cough out a choked breath. Heat rises in my cheeks as mortification and anger ripple under my skin. 

I stagger backwards as he pulls the door open. My questions lay unspoken, having died by Joel’s sword of cruelty. 

He turns before leaving but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I wonder if he fears what he’d find in them.

Then, Joel says the same words he uttered last night, before everything went to hell. 

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid.” 

……………………….

The gun is on the table, resting just a few inches away from my fingers which drum on the hardwood surface. 

He left me, he fucking left me. 

I’m seething, every bone in my body is groaning under the weight of my rage. My fingers tap to the rhythm of the thoughts that shoot through my mind. Questions, visions, worries, and regrets meld together into a ball of nausea that surges in my gut. 

I don’t know how long Joel has been gone. Minutes or hours, I can’t tell. The blinds are still drawn and the only light that illuminates the space is the broken lamp that mocks me with its flickering light. 

I imagine myself lifting the gun from the table and following after Joel, surprising him with my capability, shocking him into telling me the truth. 

My eyes squeeze shut until I see nothing but darkness, erasing the vision entirely. 

I wouldn’t even know where to start. I can barely touch the gun without flinching and I don’t have a single clue where my dad’s connections live. He didn’t want this life for me, and I’ve always been content in trusting him with my safety. 

My fingers stop drumming and lift to push into my eyes, turning the darkness into a bright searing orange behind my lids. 

Now my past indifference in learning how to protect myself has caught up to me, and I have to trust Joel fucking Miller with my life. 

What a sick joke. 

I drop my hands to the table with a loud thud, enjoying the slight burn that flashes up my arms when they connect with the hard surface. 

With my palms flat, I push myself out of the chair and stand, inhaling long deep breaths as I turn in a slow circle, taking in every inch of the home that’s closing in on me. 

I wince when my eyes find that broken bulb, bathing me in its fractured glow.

Without thinking, I’m moving towards it, gripping the cold metal stem with my hand and slamming down towards the floor. The light ceases immediately. Glass splatters around my feet, latching onto the laces on my boots and implanting in the rubber sole. 

Sharp breaths claw out of my lungs as I stand over the carnage. My relief is mixed with sorrow as I drop to the floor, my legs shaking as they make their descent. 

The glass bites into my jeans but I can’t see their fractured points. The apartment has collapsed into shallow darkness, faintly illuminated by the threads of daylight that leak out the corners of the blinds Joel pulled down. 

My face is wet again, I can feel the tears drip off my skin, landing somewhere I can’t see. 

My breaths are ragged like the fragmented edges of the glass rubble I rest on. I don’t know how to see past this darkness, I don’t know what my life is going to look like when Joel returns. I’ve been dragged into a mess I don’t even know how to begin to clean up. 

All I know is that Joel and my dad’s smuggling enterprise might have been more dangerous than I thought. 

I lean forward, lifting my arms to cradle around my bent knees as my hair falls around my face like a black veil. 

Joel is capable, I remind myself. If anyone can get us out of this, it’s probably him. He’s a dick but he knows what he’s doing. 

My teeth capture my bottom lip as I consider the frightening reality that despite every bit of survival instinct he has going for him, Joel still managed to get himself targeted by a group strong enough to infiltrate a QZ. 

So Joel can make mistakes, afterall. 

I inhale a shaky breath, but the exhale doesn’t come. 

A loud bang rattles the apartment door. My head swings towards it, hair flying around my face. 

I don’t move, I don’t breathe.

Another bang, a fist hitting off the wood with enough force to shake the doorframe. 

This isn’t Joel. He wouldn’t make that much noise. His knocks are quiet, contained, covert. 

My heart starts to pound. 

This isn’t Joel. 

Panic slams into me. I have to move, I have to hide, I have to do something. 

My hands land on the glass speckled floor and the fractures bite into my skin as I push myself up, moving my legs as slowly as possible. 

I’m standing when I hear the voice. 

“Alex!” it calls. “Are you in there? Open up!” 

Shit. 

I race to the door, my feet crunching over the lamp’s debris. I don’t even look through the peephole, I know exactly who is behind the door. And if he doesn’t shut up he’s going to get us killed.

My fingers are rapid as they release the locks and pry the door open. 

Theo stands on the other side, his chest moving quickly like he’s been running. I don’t give him a chance to catch his breath. I grip his arm and pull him into the apartment, shutting the door quietly. 

“Did anyone follow you?” I demand, sliding my eyes across his face before I turn to deadbolt the door. 

“Follow me? Alex what’s going on?” he asks softly, his eyebrows pinched and mouth gaping. “I saw your dad -” 

My back meets the door. I raise a hand, stopping him. I beg him with my desperate stare to not say the words. My mind is so fragile right now, one more reminder of my dad will shatter it entirely. 

“Did anyone follow you? Please, just answer the question,” I plead, making a considerable effort to calm my voice.

“No, of course not. Why? Is someone looking for you?” Theo asks, stepping closer. 

I drop my head into my hands with a heavy breath. “I don’t know,” I mumble into my palms. 

Strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me into his warm chest. I drop my hands to curl around Theo’s back, fingers gripping the soft material of his t-shirt. 

“What’s going on? You can tell me,” he whispers into my hair. 

“I can’t,” I murmur into his chest.

I can feel Theo try to pull back, to meet my eyes in the dim lighting, to uncover what’s happening, but I’m not ready to let go yet. I just hold him tighter, basking in the comfort of his touch. I allow myself to disarm for a moment, to let the weight of the last few hours fall onto me. 

My breaths come easier, I can feel my mind begin to settle. My thoughts are clearer. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say when I drop my arms back to my side and peel my cheek from the safety of his chest. 

Theo brushes a hand across my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear. “Alex, please. Are you okay?” 

“He’s dead,” I croak out, blinking up at him. Theo is only half visible in the light and I appreciate that I can’t see the pity I’m sure is shining in his eyes, just as I also appreciate the fact that he can’t make out the full extent of the devastation and fear on my own face.

“I know - I came as soon as I saw. I’d heard they had caught a bunch of smugglers last night but I had no idea your dad…” Theo trails off, leaving the rest of his words to remain unspoken, like my dad’s occupation always was. 

“Come on,” he breathes as he takes my hand and leads me through the darkness to the couch. 

I sink into the cushion as Theo wraps an arm around my shoulders. He’s always been good at calming me down. 

In the back of my mind, a voice yells at me, telling me that he can’t be here. What if someone followed him to this building? What if Joel comes back and finds him - 

An image of Joel pointing a gun at Theo’s head flashes across my vision. 

I stand quickly. Theo’s arm falls to the back of the couch. 

“Alex?” he asks, sitting forward.

I shake my head and send a small smile in his direction. “I’ll just be a second.” 

My legs tremble as I walk towards the kitchen. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at my scalp, begging myself to think of some excuse, some explanation for why I need Theo to leave, to protect himself, to stay away from me, to not get caught up in this mess. 

I’m standing at the table, my fingers pressing into the wood. The gun sits inches away, predicting a future I want nothing to do with. 

“Alex -” 

Theo’s voice is cut off by the sound of locks exploding. 

I swipe my hand across the table, grabbing the gun as I drop to the floor. My hand covers my ears as my mouth opens in a silent scream. 

The open door illuminates the apartment in a bright, exposing light. From under the table, I see a man I don’t recognise march towards Theo.

“What are you -” 

A trigger is pulled and I watch in a state of absolute horror as my friend’s head swings backwards with the force of the bullet that shoots through his skull. 

My hands pile over my mouth, feverishly holding in my scream. My gun is pressed against the side of my face. Every inch of me is shaking. I can’t move, I can’t feel anything but terror. 

The man turns and I know with a sharp pulse of dread that he’s spotted me. It locks my muscles and steals my breath. 

At least I didn’t have to live too long in my grief, I think. 

What are you doin’? MOVE

My eyes flash open at the imaginary sound of Joel’s voice rattling through my skull. 

“What do we have here?” the man taunts as he stalks closer. I wonder where he’ll shoot me? In the head like Theo? Or maybe the heart, let me bleed out slowly?

“Are you hiding?” the man laughs and his feet pause their movements. “Seriously?” 

I grit my teeth, confused at the man’s taunting. There’s something in his tone like he wants me to fight back, like he wants to punish me.

I think of my dad, and how hard he tried to keep me from this life. I blow out a trembling breath, he wouldn’t want me to die like this. 

From my position, I can’t see anything but the man’s feet planted on the other side of the table. The gun shakes in my sweaty palms as I try to remember Joel’s instructions. 

“Point down, check it’s loaded, safety off, point, shoot.” 

Blood roars in my ears as I follow the rhythm he showed me. The man continues his taunting, but I can only vaguely make out his snide remarks, trying to bait me out from under the table. 

Seconds later, the safety is off and I shoot before the man can react to the sound of the soft click. 

A strangled yell ricochets off the walls of the apartment and I tip backwards with the force of the gunshot. 

I hit his thigh, I think. 

I’m in shock but my brain still screams at me to move, to get out of here, to use this distraction to my advantage. 

My ears are ringing, and I can see a cloud of blackness enter the corner of my eyes that tells me that fainting is a real possibility, but I tighten my hold on the gun as I begin to crawl. 

I release a sharp, guttural scream when my head is lurched backwards as a hand wraps around my hair with a blaze of white hot pain across my scalp.

The gun drops to the floor as my hands fly up to grip my head, to try and block my attack. 

“You little bitch,” the man snarls in my ears as he pulls harder, dragging me upwards until I’m standing. I stumble and struggle in his grip but he doesn’t let up his vice like hold. 

“Guess you’re not so different from your dad then, are you?” he grunts out as I attempt to slam my back into his chest. 

My life is hanging by a very weathered thread and yet my eyes still prick with the mention of my dad. 

“If this is about the weapons,” I gasp out through gritted teeth as he increases his hold on my hair. “We can sort this out - we can pay you back.” 

The man’s answering laugh frightens me more than the sight of his gun. 

“You think this is about some stolen weapons?” he demands, his voice is blaring in my ears and I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut. 

For a short moment, myself and this man both pause in a display of our mutual confusion but the cold rim of the gun that finds my temple ends our short truce. 

I release a trembling breath. In fear or relief, I’m not sure. 

“Shit.” 

Something hot and sticky splatters against the back of my head and I drop to the floor, released from the man’s brutal hold. My eyes open when my body hits the ground. I can’t hear anything, my limbs aren’t responding to my commands to move, to get up, to run. 

Am I dead?

Hands land on my shoulders and I twist around, throwing my arms around and kicking with all the strength I didn’t know I had. My eyes are wide but they’re unseeing. I’m moving too quickly to focus on any single thing. 

Whoever is touching me is strong and once they land a firm grip on my shoulders, I’m pinned to the floor with only my legs to continue fighting for me. 

“Alex, stop.” 

My body goes limp, following the command without question. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the terror from my eyes.

“Joel.” I slur his name as his face appears above me. 

He’s furious. The line between his eyebrows looks like it's been carved out with a knife. 

“You hurt?” he demands, his voice sends shivers down my aching spine.

I shake my head and wince when the movement sends another wave of dizziness to wash over me. 

Joel seems unconvinced. He releases one of my shoulders to search my body for wounds. Flames erupt under my skin where his hand grazes me.

When he’s satisfied, Joel leans back until he’s on his knees, perched over me. 

The black cloud that darkened my vision has returned, curling around the edges like ink in water. My breaths can’t keep up with the pace of my heartbeat. 

Joel frowns as he looks down at me. 

“You left me,” I murmur.

Then the black cloud claims me as its victim.

-----------------------------------------------

@kaseyconnour @casa-boiardi

-----------------------------------------------

Hey!! Thanks for reading!! I'm going away again for a few days and then I'm starting my new job so I'm going to try and aim for a new chapter every 2 weeks - hope that's okay 🤍

[beiasluv]

Hello! Do you take request for platonic relationships? May I request for a fic where the reader is Neteyam’s twin and they died instead of Neteyam? Thank you!

neteyam x sister!reader

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

a/n: yesss, i love platonic relationships, hope u like it :)

warnings: curse words, death :( and ye bad grammar bc i am potato 💀

masterlist

enjoy!

the tale of jake sully and neytiri began a long, long time ago. until now, they had a been blessed with a baby or should i say babies

the future child of the toruk makto bear great responsibility since a youngling. even the childbirth was not private, the clan gathered around the suffering neytiri to celebrate their heirs.

neytiri screamed as her voice cracked; she squeezed jake’s hand tightly, as if she wanted him to bore the pain. jake, who was helpless to his wife held her tightly and made an attempt to calm his own beating heart.

“a boy!” the first cry echoed the forest floors and a blue baby wailed.

“neteyam!” jake held his baby high up the ground, as an offering back to eywa. and like she had noticed, the wind blew heavily among the trees.

“neteyam!” the people of omaticaya chanted as they celebrated.

jake held neteyam against his mother, “he is so precious- ma ja-!”

“neytiri!” she held his hand tightly for the second time. “what is wrong? are you injured?” he looked for mo’at and she came hurriedly.

“this can’t be!” mo’at raised her hand high towards eywa. “ewya had blessed them with a twin!” “Tsleng kä! (eywa gives)”

“Tsleng kä!! (eywa gives!)”

…

“y/n!” jake held you up in his embrace.

“y/n!” the people chanted. as if eywa acknowledged her blessing again, the woodsprites surround your body and flew off into the wind.

a twin can only be so different yet so similar at the same time. you both inherited loyalty and obedience from your parents.

however, the eldest daughter can never deny that they are a daddy’s girl. and neteyam is a mommy’s boy. a fair trade

jake will always have a soft spot for you in his heart. the firstborn daughter of a toruk makto carries a great burden all the time. he had to prepare you since young to learn how to hunt, speak intellectually, and the importance of your people.

he will call you his ‘babygirl’ when you are going through tough times and it helps calm you down 👀

you would say you guys are both calm and collected. but if compared with each other, neteyam is still leaning towards his brain, but you leans towards your heart.

you are more emotional than neteyam and for good reasons.

whenever he gets too harsh on lo’ak, you were there to support and push him up. (sorry neteyam, but we know who is lo’ak’s favorite twin here)

however, twins are twins. you guys can fight each other and screw up one another, but you are always there to back him up.

“no, neteyam, can not have my food, but here is my liver if you are going to die.”

neteyam, being the eldest he is, is very protective of his twin sister. your human hand gained a lot of unwanted attention from the other na’vis. he made each and everyone of them to learned their lesson if they decided to judge your precious pinkie.

he is very picky of what you wear and where you go

“no, you can not wear that, cover up,” he whined.

“please, as if you are not showing your whole upper body,” you slapped his abs.

“no, this is different!” he raised his arms. “there are boys drooling over you wherever you go! do not think i didn’t notice.”

“it is normal of our culture! na’vis wear this!” you complained.

“i’ll tell mom you’ve been seeing a boy out,” he raised his eyebrows.

“nete! we are just friends!”

“then cover up.”

“fine!”

whenever the boys are in trouble, you have to go bring them back. dragging them by their ears are your favorite method.

now, they’ve learned when does your footsteps mean trouble from mom and dad.

“shit! she’s coming! run!” lo’ak tapped his brother.

“neteyam! lo’ak! i am not covering for you this time!”

“then, catch us!”

“don’t make me count!”

buttt, you still covered for them because they are your beloved brothers.

patching them up most of the time. kiri is also there to help you patch them up.

kiri and tuk are your angels for lifeee. teas? spilled. you guys have girls night all thetime.

the girls like to roam the forest floor and sometimes the lab. you knew kiri and grace have a special connection, and you were there to support here through the hard times.

kiri is your spiritual sister, Period. she loves to nap in the forest with you and swim in the waterfalls.

tuk is your baby, she is so supportive and lovely to be around. your baby sister who backs you up all the time.

when mom and dad goes too harsh on you, neteyam and tuk is always there to hold you up.

spider tho. no particular comment. you had always smelled stinky feelings towards him since the beginning, but seeing your siblings grow fond of him you didn’t say anything.

he is very friendly, to the point of being weird to you. you remember to keep a distance from him

bantering with neteyam all. of. the. time. who’s older or younger, classic. who’s taller, well, you kinda gave up after puberty hit him like a BUS

you are also protective of him. girls are always surrounding him with gifts and flowers. some even took an extra step to spy him through you.

nope, not happening.

-spoilers!!-

the metkayina welcomed you guys with hospitality and same hostile behavior. which you didn’t mind, considering your dad brought much trouble to them.

you tried to be invisible to most of the people, staying away on the beach, swimming alone, or watching the sunset.

ao’nung took advantage of your solitude to make friendship. easy to say that your brothers are not happy with his attempts.

you agreed to talk with him as long as he stop bothering kiri, which he agreed swiftly. he didn’t agree swiftly to stop bothering neteyam and lo’ak, tho. but he gave in in the end.

“you have to breath in from here,” ao’nung grabbed his abs, sort of what flexing, you noticed.

“okay,” you breathed in deeper than you normally do, earning a chuckle from him seeing your puffed cheeks.

“not your cheeks, here,” his hand claps your area of shown stomach. unknowingly, his hand was burning on your skin.

“are you sick, ao’nung? your hands and face are burning,” you touched his forehead.

“oh! no! definitely not! i am fine!” he flinched his hands back. “so- sorry.”

“hey! great! you are learning to apologize!” you giggled at his words.

“only to you,” he mumbled under his breath.

“what?”

“oh, nothing,” he replied.

“y/n! let’s go! dad’s calling!” neteyam ran over to you. “look who’s here, trying to get my sister?” (giving the eyes)

“you shut up!” ao’nung retorted back.

“hey! he’s not and don’t call my brother that, you guys apologize to each other…nete”

“s..sorry” “sorry”

for someone with ego as big as his, you taught him to become more selfless. the way your father taught you since a youngling. his parents were amazed by your successful attempts and welcomed you heartwarmingly.

his sister, tsireya, welcomed you with love and affection. she is quite the opposite of her brother, which you appreciated it quite a lot.

whenever your mom needs a second hand you will always be there for her. hugging her daily and giving her comfort. neytiri sings you daily to sleep just as it was in the jungle.

…and the war came, that demon you always loathed.

“y/n! y/n! no!” neteyam tried to keep your head above the water as he is fighting against the wave himself. “bro! take her!”

“shit!” lo’ak took your body on his ilu and cradled you in his arms.

“fuck! she took the shot for me, lo’ak! what am i going to do!”

“should’ve left her dead, bro,” spider said emotional-less.

“SHUT UP! TAKE HER TO DAD NOW!” neteyam commanded lo’ak who hurriedly tightened his grip on you.

“couz, do you know what the fuck did you just said!” lo’ak called his ilu to take off while neteyam is holding on to its harness.

“she said she will sacrifice herself for her family, and this is what exactly what it is!” spider shouted back. “she wants to be with eywa! back when we were younger!”

“we’ll get back with you, spider!” neteyam shouted as he fought back the waves. “you are fucking mad! she’s our sister! I’ll never lose her to a fucking bullet! pray for yourself that I’ll not pluck your eyeballs out!”

…

“DAD!” lo’ak called out jake on the rock. “bro watch her head!” lo’ak, neteyam, and tsireya lowered your body softly on the rough surface. everyone can hear their heartbeat as well as the liquid in their teary eyes.

“fuck, pressure! apply pressure on her!” jake took neteyam’s hand and place it on her blood soaked chest. neteyam placed his shaky hands as heavy as he could on your chest to stop your blood.

“it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” your dad muttered to your fading sight.

“d- dad, i want to go home,” you sobbed, as each word hurts to mutter out.

“i know, i know, we’re going home,” he smiled softly at you, trying to keep himself together.

“no, no, no, no, no,” neytiri held your body tightly. she cradled your face in her soft hands. you remember these soft hands, they are the one who brought you to bed every night, the ones who took care of you when you are sick, and the one who held you when you first broke your heart. now you felt as if you are breaking their hearts.

“i- i- mom- dad-“ you can’t help but your body is shaking hardly.

“yes, sweetheart?” “yes, babygirl?” your mom and dad replied softly and everything blacks out.

…

“no! nooo! y/n!” neytiri screamed her heart out, her hands traveled around your head and held it close to her chest. as if she is trying to retrieve her last memory like the first time she was breast-feeding you. “my child! my daughter!”

your brothers held your body close to them as well. neteyam taking your hand and knitting his ring with your pinkie finger, “you promise! you promised!”

“neytiri, neytiri,” jake held her closely. “they have our daughters, i need you to be strong.”

“let’s take our daughters back.” from that moment on, her eyes became as emotional less as a robot, grabbing her bow she took off.

“stay with your sister!” jake commanded.

…

“what are you doing, mad animal! i don’t even care for that child!”

“A CHILD FOR A CHILD”

part 2

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, 🤍

[bloodiedrogue]

THANKS, LASS!

SUMMARY: Rugan finally gets to buy you that drink at the Elfsong... and say his proper thanks.

PAIRING: Rugan & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,252

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, a little bit of hair pulling if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I've never written for this man in my life so if it's bad... just uh... move along, please. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the poll! I promise I'll do more fun things like this when I'm not so sad and sick. :')

MASTERLIST

-

The pain that resides in your lower back is intense. A torturous shift of muscle and bone pushing itself in all the wrong spots. So much so that as you take that first step towards the Elfsong’s upstairs quarters you can’t help but groan at the impact. Remembering how awful it felt to fight off that horde of elementals alongside Lorroakan’s particularly brutal set of spells. 

At this rate, the only thing you can feel is the need to rest and drink. Both of which somehow manage to pull your thoughts away from the staircase beneath your feet. Or more specifically how increasingly painful each step becomes. 

“You guys still have that gold from earlier, right?” Karlach asks. She’s about two steps in front of you and barely hanging on herself. With her great axe strapped to her back, it’s a wonder she’s still upright considering she probably took the brunt of the fight. 

“Yes, why?” Beside her, Shadowheart looks over skeptically. Even though she already knows why the tiefling’s asking.

“I ran out.” 

“Of course, you’d conveniently run out of money the second we make it to the most expensive tavern in town.” Leaning against the railing of the staircase, Astarion uses one hand to steady himself and the other to flippantly wave her off. All while rolling his eyes before shooting you an unimpressed look. “I swear, all this woman does is mooch.” 

“Says the bloodsucking vampire!” Karlach retorts, prompting Astarion to scoff. 

“You know, comparing an eternal curse to a lack of financial responsibility is rather poor taste, Karlach.” 

“Yeah, well—“

You’re already turning back towards the bottom of the staircase before you can listen further, grumbling under your breath. Moving your aching hands to your face to scrub them down in annoyance as you make a beeline for the bar.

All day they’d been at each other’s throats. Bickering about the littlest things as a result of too much pressure. Even before arriving within the city limits, you could feel the tension of everyone’s problems reaching their climax. And now it was well past the point of boiling over. 

“What can I—“

“Whatever’s strongest, please.” 

Awkwardly, you shift onto one of the barstools, cringing at the pain that radiates through your spine. Trying your best to ignore the exhaustion that settles once you inevitably trade your drink for a few pieces of gold.

“Rough day, I assume.” 

You give the barkeep an annoyed nod, leaning forward to readjust your position. Attempting to alleviate the discomfort by putting more weight onto your elbows as you begin to anxiously sip. The drink overall isn’t bad for what it’s worth. A bit fiery as it slips through your lips and down your throat but still tolerable. Better than most of the shit you’ve ransacked on the road which leaves you somewhat thankful. 

“You an adventurer?” 

As you take another drink, pausing mid-sip to narrow your eyes at the barkeep you can’t help but wonder how he hasn’t gotten the hint. You’re not here to talk —you’re here to drink. To drown in the silence of your thoughts until you inevitably have to come back up for air and wander helplessly upstairs to bed. To wallow in your own pity as you try and decide whose problems you’ll have to face next in favour of avoiding your own. 

Opening your mouth to respond, you’re quickly interrupted by a familiar voice. One that’s low and Northern —a jumble of words you don’t quite catch on account of the speed at which he scolds the barkeep causing him to scoff. 

“He bothering you?”

Glancing to your left, you’re met with Rugan’s familiar eyes. All tired and blue, looking at you with an odd amount of smugness that has you holding back a smirk as you shake your head. “Not anymore.” 

“Good. Ol’ Darvin’s always been a bit shit at social cues, haven’t you Darv?” As he speaks, his volume rises, catching the attention of the barkeep once again who flips him off. 

“Oh, piss off, Zhent.”

All he does is laugh. Lending you a moment to take another much-needed sip feeling your stomach flip. 

“I see you made it back in one piece.”

“Mostly.”

“Rough trip?”

You snort in response, knowing just how unaware he is of how truly rough it’s been. “You could say that.”

“Hopefully no more gnolls?”

“Only a few.” You shrug, watching him nod his head. Noticing the way he pauses his response to take your appearance in full, his eyes darting from the faded bloodstains coating the roots of your hair to the dishevelled way your armour sits on your frame, already begging to be discarded.

“When did you make it back?”

“A few nights ago.”

“And you’ve just now decided to take up my offer for a drink? Tsk, I’m offended,” he teases, his lips pulling down into a mock frown that has you biting your tongue and shaking your head, trying to appear aloof. 

Because if you're being honest, at this moment you’re feeling anything but. Thanks to the way he continues to stare —practically drinking you in like a man devoid of hydration— it feels as though you’ll cave at any second. Something you know you can’t do because there’s work to be done.

“My sincerest apologies,” you reply dramatically, pausing to take the last few sips of your drink before sighing in relief. “Yesterday I was a bit tied up fighting a cloister of angry Sharran’s and today we had to murder a power-hungry wizard. So, the offer sort of slipped my mind if I’m being honest.” 

Unsurprisingly, that piques his interest, prompting his brows to raise and his frame to sort of shift a bit closer. “Seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?” 

“How do you mean?”

“Aren’t you meant to relax now that you’re back in the city?”

This time you laugh, throwing your head back —watching as he scrunches up his face in confusion until you eventually settle back down, wiping a stray tear from your eye. 

An act you half expect him to question considering how absurd it looks suddenly erupting into madness. How despite always acting like you know exactly what you’re doing you’ve just shown him otherwise. Granting him what little access you’re willing to release in order to pull him in. 

Which sounds ridiculous when you take into account you barely know the man. Having spoken to him on only two occasions, he really shouldn’t be trusted. Not at least until he’s proven himself an ally like others have. Instead, he should be placed at arm’s length like every other soul you’ve managed to save along the way. Looked at with fondness and curiosity but not faith. Never faith.

“Got yourself into some deep shite, have you?”

The way he smiles after he speaks leaves you questioning everything. The way your body shifts in response —the way your lungs give out and your legs move. The way everything feels warm and taut, forcing your mind to travel to places you know they shouldn’t. 

“Course.” 

“Bit of a troublemaker?”

In response, you shrug your shoulders and grin, unsure how to respond because, truthfully, you’re not. At least, not really. Sure, trouble always seems to find you as of late but obviously you don’t want it. Instead, what you want is peace. A night of no consequence or agenda. A night of song and dance and drink. A night of something other than what you’ve been constantly offered time and time again over these last few weeks. 

Which is why you don’t protest when Rugan merely changes the subject, offering to buy you another drink. Or why you fail to stop after the second or the third —pausing around the fourth to debate going to bed before eventually relenting once more, smiling at the way he pokes fun at your lack of tolerance. 

“Figured a fierce warrior like you’d be able to handle their drink.” 

By that point, your mind is exclusively swimming around him. Thinking of all the ways you could further enjoy his company after this is over. Maybe you could ask him out for another drink. Or tag along with whatever trouble he’ll most likely get himself into again. 

“Give me a break, Zhent,” you chastise, swirling the glass that now sits idly in your hand. Trying your best to tear your gaze from his, knowing that you’re drowning. Slipping further and further into those pretty fucking eyes that look and stare and absorb every single little thing you do. Every new glance making you unnecessarily nervous —a bundle of skittish thoughts and movements erupting over time, forcing your guard to quickly lower. Causing the once-severed connection between your mind and mouth to mend itself in the form of drunken rambles that have him practically on the edge of his seat. 

“You know, I kept thinking I’d miss you when we arrived,” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder to hide the stupid grin that sits across your face at just the thought.

“You don’t say.” He grins back. 

“Mhm. I kept having to tell myself not to get my hopes up.” 

“Didn’t realize you viewed me so highly.” 

“I don’t,” you immediately lie, despite knowing he’s already caught you. Thanks to his patience, charm, and heavy pockets he’s managed to earn at least one admittance of vulnerability, and knowing him that’s all he needs. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” he muses, and although you want to fight him on it, you don’t. Knowing that the conversation would just lead to another ill-performed lie tumbling from your already loosened lips. 

“And you’re too smug.” 

“Well, that’s because I have to be.” 

You raise your brow. “Why?”

“Because pride gets you places. Shame doesn’t.” 

Suddenly, you’re scrunching up your face and leaning forward, placing your glass on the counter between you —moving towards the edge of your chair so that you can explore his features the same way he did earlier. 

Somehow it hardly phases him. Instead of making him sweat as it had previously done to you, you can sense that pride he’s talking about. All the underlying confidence that peaks through his pores, settling between the lines of age that reside around his mouth and eyes. It practically radiates off of him. Blinding you for a good few moments before it slowly fades behind the backdrop of something new. Something far more vulnerable, showcasing itself in the subtle way his eyes dart down towards the hand that’s suddenly found itself around his knee.

“You know, it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes,” you say, speaking to both him and yourself. Attempting to boost whatever confidence the two of you once had during the flirtatious parts of your conversation. “In certain circumstances, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” 

Looking away, you then press your lips together and go to move your hand, feeling his quickly slip over top and how it pulls you back in again. 

“This your way of granting me permission to be vulnerable, then?”

All you do is shrug, glancing down to see his fingers maneuvering your hand into his. Each digit lacing between the empty spaces of your own so that he can raise it and place a gentle kiss on your knuckles. An act that leaves you utterly breathless as he snorts and says something else. Something you don’t quite catch due to the fact that you’re already six feet below the surface, desperately trying to come up for air so that you can focus on the sound his mouth makes rather than what it might feel like against your skin. Or how it might taste after a long bout of— 

“Oi, you listening?”

“Sorry?”

All he does is scoff as he kisses your hand again, watching your mouth open and close like a fish out of water. Taking you in with each struggling breath until he can feel your sense of stability returning. 

“I said I’d really like to take you upstairs and fuck you, if that’s alright.” 

At that moment, you’re completely speechless. A silent mess of twisting expressions too scared to respond with anything remotely charming. 

As if you’ve been reduced to nothing but a follower worshipping their holy God, eventually all you do is nod and allow your body to be led up the stairs. Patiently waiting for the moment you step over that final threshold of privacy. All while internally wondering if what you’re doing is the right thing because there’s still so much work to be done. Not to mention the fact that everyone’s relying on you to—

“Aye, they can handle themselves for the night, yeah?” 

Practically reading your mind, it’s as if you’re already one. A pair of bodies so tightly wound that by the time you’ve stepped into the room, he’s already working towards that goal. 

Kicking the door closed, he presses into you almost instantly, moving his hands around your frame; lingering on the plushest parts as he inevitably slots his mouth against yours. Barely giving you a chance to think let alone breathe as he leads you to the bed. All while your hands wildly follow his in tandem, wrapping themselves around his shoulders —feeling them tense with excitement as the edges of your arms roughly knock against them on your way to hold his face. 

Caressing his sturdy cheeks as he sits on the mattress’s edge, you then feel him pull you onto his lap, prompting you to smile against him. Feeling the way he gently bites back through the hazy taste of heated ale and desperation. Suppressing the urge to moan at the impact of his teeth taking hold of the skin before pulling back.

“You’re breathing a bit heavy there, sweetheart. Everything alright?” 

You’re tempted to smack him but instead, you resort to merely tucking a hand behind his head to pull at his hair, watching his jaw shift. Feeling the tone of the room change almost as quickly as he grabs your chin. 

“Careful there. Wouldn’t want to hurt that pretty little face of yours any further.” 

For a moment his fingers feel tight against your face, pressing your lips into a pout until he eventually allows the softer side of his movements to return. Then you’re lost to the waves all over again, feeling him guide you to a standing position beside the bed. Watching intently as he follows behind, moving his fingers to the clasps of your armour. 

“Bit overdressed it seems,” he jokes, instantly making quick work of all the fastenings and ties. Starting with your chest plate before making his way down to the belt of your trousers, painfully lingering on the latter. 

“I see that pride of yours is still intact,” you say, moving in to kiss his lips. Realizing just how truly soft they are in comparison to the rest of him. How unlike the arrogance and greed that resides in his voice and hands respectively, there’s a hidden tenderness there. An Achilles’ heel that you’re more than happy to nurture rather than exploit.

Which is something you’re certain he notices based on the way everything changes after that. How, instead of things progressing solely for the purpose of shared satisfaction, they move with care. With newfound attentiveness in the form of slow, curious hands that coast the edges of your torso.

“You know, I never properly thanked you for saving us that day.”

Narrowing your eyes, you can’t help but smile at the sensation of his breath suddenly wafting against your neck. Or how his palms feel dragging down the fabric of your tunic only to tuck themselves against the bareness of your skin, resting just above your hips. 

“Didn’t you?”

Far gentler than you anticipate, his mouth sucks the skin of your neck. His teeth applying a bit of pressure before his tongue darts out to soothe the small affliction. “Not in the way that I wanted to,” he tells you after, kissing that same spot before moving lower and repeating the process. All while digging his fingers into your hips. “Not in the way you deserve.”

There’s a moment when you go to ask him what he means. Not because you’re unaware but because you need to hear him say it. To listen to him admit that what he’s doing is nothing more than an act of gratitude so that after this is said and done you won’t be distracted anymore.  

But then he proceeds to lower himself to the ground, floorboards creaking under the weight of his knees. Thumbs carefully brushing across the edges of your stomach before moving back to your belt. Looking up at you, his eyes are larger and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them before and it’s as if you're back on the shore, wondering whether or not it’s okay to dive back in. 

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

It comes out like a whisper. As your lungs fail to provide the air you need to breathe, you’re left stranded. Wafting through the waves of his hands peeling away the fabric of your dirtied clothes, the only thing that’s there to stabilize you is him. His hungry mouth and broad shoulders —his calloused hands ghosting the backs of your calves as he tentatively kisses the inside of your thighs. And in order to stop the tremors he inflicts from toppling you over, you have to reach down to grab his hair. 

Wrapping your fingers gently around the knot that sits on top of his head, you hear him hum in response almost instantly. The vibrations of his voice brushing against the edge of your cunt. Every subtle movement of his hands and mouth forcing your body to shift uncomfortably, trying your best to alleviate the pressure. 

An alleviation that doesn’t come easy. Thanks to the teasing of his lips eventually wrapping around your clit but failing to do much else. Knowing that good things like this take time. 

(And that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone). 

“Rugan, can you— oh fuck—“

His tongue circles the exact spot you need it to. Moving languidly around before darting elsewhere and repeating the process, you can feel your insides tightening. The imaginary band within you being pulled taught as he moves his fingers up to brush your folds. Every motion working together to force a moan from your lips. The kind that makes him grin against you, forcing his fingers inside just as shifts to suck your clit again. 

Immediately, it’s all too much. An overload of sensitivities taking over your mind. Suddenly, you feel your hips blindly rut against his mouth while you tug at his hair. Forcing him to work that much harder. Making it hard for either of you to breathe because he refuses to stop.

Even when you can feel him desperately panting against you, he refuses to stop. Running his tongue across every exposed area —embedding the feeling of its efforts throughout every nerve— it doesn’t take long for you to come undone. 

In fact, it’s hardly a minute after you’ve egged him on that he’s pushed you over the edge, remaining completely consistent in his efforts to please you. To show his appreciation in the form of a suckling mouth that continues through the endless waves of pleasure. To graciously thank you over and over until you’re later left limp against his chest after the fourth or fifth round (you’ve lost count) breathing so hard he can’t help but feel smug about it. 

-

TAGLIST:

@oldanimefan @void-singer @gunslingerorchid @littleplasticrat @fistfuloftarenths @kirahlene @killerpancakeburger @charmedslytherin @voloslobotomyservice @cloverthebarbearian @my-favourite-zhent @imgoingtofreakoutnow

[moonselune]

hiii it's revivify anon again (can I be 🐶anon?)

ahhhh your takes for the male companions reactions are so real!!

as a galemancer myself, I absolutely see him going the god route to bring them back. he's probably spin it as something like, "it was my ambition to bring you back. Therefore, i am allowed" (honestly, I could see him becoming so much darker if he brings back his fallen love. He'd probably keep them in a gilded cage of sorts. Always saying that he has their best interests at heart, that he's better and more reliable than all other gods. That no one, god or mortal, could love you better than him, so you should worship him just as much as he worships you... man... the potential.)

Thinking about astarion losing his love just hurts because like... they came and healed his heart only to shatter it all over again? If it was BEFORE the cazador fight, I think he'd definitely ascend himself. Why worry about losing your soul when you've already lost your heart? If it was after the cazador fight, I think he'd just kick himself for letting you convince him not to do it, and eventually circle back to the idea that he should've ascended. Maybe then, he could've saved you....

Oh, Wyll.... I get what you mean about not wanting to immediately go down that route of trading his soul to another Patron. I think if Mizora caught wind, she'd absolutely taunt him with it. Always hanging around like a bad smell, dangling the chance to bring his love back as long as he signs away his soul in a Pact eternal with her. I think as long as he had his friends around, he would be able to stand firm and remember that his lover would've shattered at the idea of him sacrificing himself. I'm not sure if I'm misreading his character or not, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't take another lover. He'd probably 1) blame himself for the loss of their life, and 2) think he isn't worthy of love again, and 3) probably love them until he dies tbh. He wouldn't want another lover, because they wouldn't be his lost love :'(

DARK HALSIN!!! Girl... your mind.... you are so onto something. I could totally see him going shadow druid tbh. He'd probably stop and be like, "you know what? Maybe they were right. Maybe I should've embraced the shadows. Maybe I still should..." or like, if people venture far enough into the woods, they might come across a corpse perfectly preserved as if theyre just sleeping, reeking of druidic magic. There's tons of plants surrounding the body. Some consider it a holy site, some consider it cursed. But all agree not to linger too long, lest the beast that guards it finds you...

CW: Dark Content

Of course 🐶 nonnie !

Oh my god yes yes yes yes, I have done a galemancy run and it was one of my favourites. The way this man would be like "I am doing nothing wrong" and there's just a pile of bodies behind him because he keeps messing up this necromancy spell that requires a sacrifice. Oh my lord and when it finally works and you are alive, back and well. He is overjoyed and is like my love! You have returned! Don't look at all the blood and bodies, just come this way my love! No the outside world will harm you, my love, just follow me! Look at this room it has all your favourites! Those windows have never opened my love, here's your favourite tea!

And he is NEVER going to let it go that he brought you back- ever. You are his masterpiece, the fruits of all his labor, the perfect embodiment of his ambition. He is your creator, you, the perfect creation. You belong to him. You will watch him ascend and you will take your place below beside him.

Resisting is pointless, you wouldn't want to go back to that cruel afterlife. Maybe if you are being particularly ungrateful, you would like a taste of what he rescued you from? Sending you into a spiral of nightmares until all you can do is cling to him in fear. He strokes your hair as you cry and murmurs how all he did was save you from this and you want to defy him? Hurt him by saying all those cruel words?

Well shit this is gonna end up as a fic isn't it?

YES, pre cazador, definitely would ascend and I can go see him going after people who look like you but as soon as they do/say something that is out of character for you, he just murders them. Justifying it by saying if you don't get to live, then neither do the poor imitations of you.

If he didn't ascend I reckon he would make a deal for him to get some sort of power, as you said, his heart died with you, what does he need a soul for? And then that takes us back to his ascended behaviour.

Oh baby boy Wyll, I agree, I do not think he would take another lover, but he would move on, I can see him becoming Grand Duke and shaping Baldur's Gate into a City that you would have survived in. He would name so many things after you, you liked books? He would build a library in your name? You always said you wanted kids or a big family, he builds an orphanage for you, telling the children stories of you. I think eventually as Wyll gets older and Mizora still tries to tempt him, he eventually enjoys her presence - as every time she tries to lure him into darkness, he can hear his beloved guiding him back to the light, and that he would never give up. Mizora is like wtaf, fine, you will never see me again, and then she's bored and shows up.

Dark Halsin !!! We love you !! He would have such a guilt complex about the shadow druids, how they were right etc. AND YES OMG you read my mind, parents warn their kids not to play too deep into the forest and for those wayward ones they come back, trembling with fear as they say how the beast roared and swiped its sharp paw at them. (Halsin would scare them away, I can never imagine him being violent with kids). But for those trying to prove their strength and valour by rescuing the beautiful maiden - they are never seen again.

Oooooo I cannot wait to sink my teeth into this!

[chroniclesofbts]

Break my Walls P.7

Genre: A/B/O, Poly BTS and Reader

Warnings: angst, omegaspace, eventual smut, slow burn, angst, fluff, polyamorous relationship, sexual themes, implied sexual interactions, name calling, cursing.

If you’re not 18+ please, do not interact.

As always, my works do not represent BTS in any way, this is purely a work of fiction.

3 years ago

"Thank you for meeting with me Kang Dae, I'm sure you are very busy, especially with the Choi Pack pulling their support. I wonder, how many packs will follow" Namjoon begins, taunting him.

"I don't think anyone will, we have strong allies, Kim" Kang replies, icily.

"That's not what we have been hearing" Jin voices

"Shut it, Omega, let your Alpha do the talking" Kang barks, causing the entire Kim pack to growl.

"I would chose my words very carefully Kang, we happen to have a lot of information about your underhand deals that I am sure the council would love to hear about." Yoongi spits out at the man, unable to hold the bite in his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Kang speaks, playing dumb.

"Lack of education for omegas, use of omegas as pleasure objects and breeding, omega negligence, trading omegas for alphas with other packs, murder of omegas and pups alike, shall I go on? I am sure you don't need to be reminded about the Im pack." Namjoon starts

"What do you want, Kim" Kang demands

"An omega and for you to leave our pack out of every affair you have" Namjoon states simply.

"An omega, take your pick!" He exclaims, "whoever you want, but after, you leave and never return"

"Y/N" Yoongi states, leaving no room for discussion.

"Ah, I am afraid she has already been traded. She was due for training but a buddy of mine wanted a nice fresh omega with no training for their packs impending rut cycles. She was the perfect candidate, had I known you had a soft spot-" he was cut off by Namjoon shoving him to the wall by his throat. Tightening his hand on his throat, Namjoon glared heatedly at the pathetic man clawing at his hand.

"When" Namjoon grit out.

"Yesterday I made the deal, she left 20 minutes ago' Kang wheezed.

"Which pack" Yoongi questioned, inches away from harming the alpha.

"Blackthorn, in America" Kang lied, praying they wouldn't see through him.

"You just made a huge mistake" Namjoon stated, dropping Kang and leaving the pack in a hurry.

"We were too late, weren't we?" Jimin whimpered, taking in the anger on his pack members faces from where he and the others had been waiting outside the office.

"We will find her again, even if we have to search in every pack for her. Hopefully we aren't too late" He whispers the last part to himself.

3 days prior to the Lunar Ceremony

Looking around at his pack, Namjoon can feel the lack of hope of finding her. They have searched every pack in North and South America. We even went back to the Kang pack, only to find out that Kang was killed during an attack from another pack.

"Joon, we have another invitation to a Lunar Ceremony. This one has 7 packs total invited." Jin spoke, breaking Namjoon from his thoughts.

"7 packs? That's smaller than normal. Who is the host, any packs we know attending?" He questions

"Hosted by the Moon pack, we haven't seen them in what, 5 years? The only name I recognize on here is the Im pack." Jin replied, "Should I respond the same as the rest of the packs?"

"Say yes, they have been our allies for a long time, we should make sure they know we are still allies with all of the attacks going on recently" Namjoon replied, "I will let the rest of the pack know to prepare some bags. Ask about staying on their territory, the Maknae's need to let loose some."

Present Day

Y/N's POV

I stare at the box on my porch, holding the dress from Jisoo. Grabbing the box, I sigh and take it inside. I walk into my room and set it on my nest, going to take a shower to scrub off the sweat from setting up all day. I make sure to shower quickly, in case I do decide to go to the Lunar Ceremony. I walk over to my nest and open the box, pulling the dress out and setting it carefully on my bed. The dress is made of a silk material, has thin straps that cross multiple times on the back, a split corset in the front, and a high thigh split. The dress was beautiful, it would be a waste to not be worn. I put the dress on, heart starting to race with how well it fits me. I decide that going to the ceremony for a few hours wouldn't hurt and since I'm wearing red I shouldn't be approached by any other packs. I curl my hair and do light make up, since it will be dark I don't want anything drawing attention to me. I look at the time and realize I am already running late. I put on my sandals and begin the trek to the woods. I can already hear the music playing, and the voices of the packs celebrating.

"Y/N! You came!" Chan yelled across the woods, I cringed already regretting my decision. Chan runs over to me and wraps me in a big hug, "I am so happy you came, you're going to have so much fun!"

"I can still go back" I state, shimmying my way out of his arms.

"Come on, come show Jisoo the dress on you" He exclaims, dragging me towards Jisoo and the rest of the pack.

"I knew it would look amazing on you! Are you sure you don't want to find a pack of your own?" Jisoo questions, standing in a skin-tight sleeveless red dress. "Almost every pack is here, why don't you help Chan find a pack tonight" Jisoo prompts, pushing us both to the closest pack with yellow dresses and shirts on.

"Hi! Im pack" The tallest man says, "I'm Jay, I see you're a part of Jisoo's pack, and you're looking for a pack to join" he smiled at Chan, who, for once, looked timid.

"Hi, I'm Y/N!" I said, "This is Chan, he's normally not like this, I typically can't get him to stop talking." I joke, linking arms with Chan, "I think he just needs some food in his system, feel free to find him later." I smile and guide him towards the food.

"Alright, hot shot, what happened" I question.

"I don't know, I just wasn't feeling the connection" He whispered.

"So, you want to find your mate, or mates, and their pack?"

"I guess, I just hear about them and is it wrong to think that I could have one or more mates?"

"I think that you find your own pack and they become mates, or else we wouldn't have so many packs that form and separate." I share, "But we will find the perfect pact for you, I promise, I know how much this means to you" I comfort him.

"Thank you, I know this isn't your thing, but it means a lot to me" He responds

"I think you have some admirers" I nudge Chan towards the two men wearing white and standing on the edge of the forest.

"They're beautiful" Chan whispered. I grab his hand and pull him towards the two, causing their eyes to widen. I push Chan slightly in their direction and watch him walk the rest of the way on his own. If this is the only thing to come of the night, it was worth coming. I turn to head back to the table of food when I smell lavender and coconut, stopping me in my tracks. They can't be here, Jisoo wouldn't befriend packs like them. I look around in alarm, trying to pinpoint where he is, when orange blossom and lilac invades my senses. My heart begins to bleed from the wounds I thought had healed. The aching returning full force. I lock eyes with Jisoo, and standing right in front of her is a face I will never forget, Kim Seokjin. Jisoo points in my direction, causing Jin to whip around and search the area. I freeze, my breath caught in my throat, hair standing on edge. What if Kang wants me back, I can't go back with everything that I know. So focused on staying out of Jin's line of sight, I don't realize that the scent of lavender and coconut getting closer. I turn, ready to flee, when I run straight into a chest, Jung Hoseok. I slowly lift my eyes up and meet his, the smile on his face and tears in his eyes make me pause in my steps.

"We though you were dead" He whispered, brokenly. "Kang-"

"No" I cut him off, "I don't know why you came, or what you gain, but I want no part in it" I speak, words full of venom. His face morphs into shock, then hurt.

"What? What are you talking about, we-" He starts again, only to be cut off by another voice from behind me.

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice asked, raspy as if he hadn't been using it very often.

I take a deep breath and push past Hoseok, not wanting to stay for any more reunions.

"Wait!" Jimin yelled, grabbing my arm and turning me towards him. "Have you been here the whole time? You were never in America?" He asked.

"Why would I have gone to America? Of course I have been here the whole time, didn't have much choice. Your pack saw to that, thanks, by the way" I jerked my arm out of his hand, and walked away.

"My pack did what?" Namjoon's voice questioned.

"I don't have time to go down memory lane" I respond, continuing my pathing to my house.

"You joined the Moon pack?" Jin's voice came, full of emotion.

"No mark though" Hoseok said.

"I didn't, I don't want a pack. That's why I am in her pack colors, so people leave me alone" I comment, "not that its working"

"Y/N, please, talk to us" Jungkook's voice came. By now we had made it to my house, just as it started to rain. I unlocked my door, paused and cursed myself for being a good person, and held the door open for the pack to enter.

"I don't know where your lodging is, but my house isn't close to anything so, unless you want to get soaked, you should get inside" I say, watching the rain get harder.

"Thank you" They chorused as they entered.

"You guys look like shit" I point out, seeing the bags under their eyes and the lifeless eyes.

"I- we know" Namjoon said, "Can you tell us what happened if you didn't go to America? We were told you were traded to a pack in America, we search all of the packs in both North and South America"

"Why? Wanted to rub it in my face that you and Kang broke me? Turned me into a bad omega?" I spat

"Turned you- What are you talking about?"Jin demanded

"I was taken 'shopping' over here, then left in the cold with nothing. You just had to play with me, test if I was following Kang's rules, then tell him how bad I failed"

"We weren't working with Kang" Yoongi said angrily, "We were blackmailing him to get you out of his pack and into ours"

"Right, sure" I say, not convinced, "The rain will clear in the next hour, I want you gone when it ends" I turn and walk to my room to change. I open my door, aware of the eyes on my back. I walk to the bathroom and take a shower, trying to heat up my body, feeling the shock wearing off. I can't hold the tears back, covering my mouth to keep the sobs from reaching the pack in the living room. I feel the water start to turn cold, deciding to get out before I freeze. I change into sweatpants and a loose T-Shirt Chan left the last time he was over. I glance up as a knock rings out on my door, dreading the conversation I know is coming.

"Come in" I call, waiting to see who it is. Jimin's head pokes around the door, eyes widening at the sight of my nest.

"You nest!" He shouts excitedly, causing footsteps to come pounding towards my room. Jin pushed the door open, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, tears filling his eyes.

"Oh my, it's beautiful" Jin whispered, causing me to shrink back into my nest.

"Did you need something?" I ask, looking at Jimin.

"We want to explain our side, but maybe not all of us. It may be easier if Jin or Joon explain, or both" He said, his arm going up to scratch his neck.

"Please" Jin begged, "Let us tell you what happened on our side"

"Okay, but after, you leave" I agree. Jin and Namjoon make their way into the room, "Jimin too, I have questions"

The rest of the pack left to the living room, leaving Jin, Namjoon, and Jimin standing in the middle of my room. They sit on the ground in front of my nest, not daring to ask to enter.

"We went to the Kang pack on behalf of the Choi pack, along with the Lee pack. Choi was withdrawing their help and alliance to Kang due to the trading of omegas illegally. When we did some digging, with help of some information from you. Lack of education for omegas, use of omegas as pleasure objects and breeding, omega negligence, trading omegas for alphas with other packs, murder of omegas and pups, we just- I couldn't let you stay. Our pack had taken to you faster than anyone we've ever met. We went as a pack the morning you had disappeared to ask for you in exchange for us not going to the council and Kang said he gave you to a buddy in America. Yoongi almost killed hime right there. We left immediately for America and searched every pack, only to find out he lied about America. When we went back, Kang was dead. We found you by luck, our pack isn't like Kang's. You have to believe us." Namjoon finished.

"That's why I woke up alone in your nest" I directed my statement to Jimin, who nodded.

"If I had known what was going to happen, I would have never left. We had to have the meeting as a pack, Kang demanded it, now we know why." Jimin spoke, keeping his eyes to the ground.

"Well, I don't know what I believe, but thank you for explaining. You can go now" I say, feeling the hole in my chest getting bigger. I shouldn't have gone tonight, it only led to confusion and opened wounds.

"We will be here for the rest of the week, if you want to talk" Jin said, standing up and leading Jimin out of the room.

"Sweet dreams Y/N" Namjoon said, closing the door behind him. I listened for the front door to close before closing my eyes and letting the tears fall.

Taglist open

@braveangel777 @minjianhyung @kiki-zb @svnbangtansworld @m00njinnie

[maple-the-awesome]

Tiny Little Details ||

Pairing: Four x GN Reader

Words: 1,781

Requested by @pinkalmondcake: May I please get some four fluff of that's alright🥹He's just so cute and I was thinking about reader discovering a small minish four when they landed in his world (he wanted to check on the minish) and the reader didn't know he could be so smol and four becomes embarassed seeing he likes the reader (and the reader is a bit taller than him seeing he's a small bean anyway XD) and when they discover they like each other than as the reader somewhat confesses, then they pick him up in their hand and he's blushing and everything. He also gives them a peck on the nose and hugs their cheek while squealing on the inside! (sorry that this is a longish ask!) And I hope it was fine to ask too! ^.^ I love the parts to your crush and your new part for sacrificing ourselves for the chain! ❤️ Four is officially the most adorable Link and that must not be forgotten🥺I mean, where else are you gonna find a better boyfriend than one you can literally just keep in your pocket? Here you go, hun!

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Minish are rather generous, taking it upon themselves to hide little goodies in the grass for travelers to find like extra hearts or rupees, but they also host the sweetest little tea parties made up of droplets of tea and crumbs of cookies which are perfectly filling for anyone matching their size.

It's a much needed break, Four decided some time ago. Away from the stress of trying to keep Hyrule (and numerous versions of it) safe while also maintaining his own sanity while faced with eight other heroes, a few of whom can be a bit much to deal with at times, as he's learned. 

For the most part, they all get along well, likely due to their shared destinies and deeper understandings towards each other's struggles, yet that doesn't mean they all share the same personalities. It isn't constant, although also not rare for some to butt heads here and there, leading to raised tensions as well as the need for fresh air like in Four's current case.

When he huffs a bit too loud, he must reassure his Minish friends that everything's fine, even asking for another drop of tea to fill his miniature cup, however it's difficult not to feel new dismay at the sight of a golden sky above. 

Truthfully, Four had cooled down a while ago, already letting his anger towards the other boys roll off his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he wants this peaceful moment to end any quicker. If it were up to him, he'd stay with the Minish longer, trading merry stories about his recent adventures that almost take away from the dark energy looming in the air. Alas, he should probably return soon before anyone begins to worry too much, although as he soon learns, it might be too late for that.

Four was just about to dismiss himself when he heard his name being called. To the smallest beings of the world, it sounds like thunder crashing through the sky as does the crunching of footsteps that almost shake the earth as they get closer, but Minish are used to such disruptions and even Four shows no concern upon recognizing the approaching voice.

"FOUR?! ARE YOU OUT HERE?!" It's you; both a good and bad thing. Good, because out of all his traveling partners, Four must admit that you're his favorite. Your presence arouses a similar sense of calming comfort in him as being around the Minish does, the only difference being the wooziness you curse upon him from your smile alone. Yes, it would be safe to say that Four has become enchanted by your beauty, both inside and out, so he's actually quite happy to hear your voice as you search for him. The problem then? He's still the size of a Minish himself and the only person in the Chain who knows about this ability of his is Twilight, not you.

It's okay. This is fine. He's barely the size of a rupee, hidden amongst a tall forest of flora. To find him on your own, you would have to actively hunt through the flowers and blades of grass which you definitely aren't doing now. Instead, you're scanning the entirety of the field at eye level because you reasonably believe that if your friend is truly out here, you'll be able to easily spot him by doing so, after all, he may be shorter than you, but not as short as to be below your feet (if only you knew).

Four plans to stay silent and wait for you to move along elsewhere which would give him time to turn back without your notice, however he hesitates to commit to that decision once you come into sight, allowing him to officially see just how worried you look. If he didn't know any better, he'd say you appear to be on the verge of tears, growing more frantic by the second. 

You can't be blamed for your concern. Four has been gone for a while and isn't usually a Link to wander, not to mention you were told he left in a huff after being on the receiving end of harsh teasing from some of the other boys. No one has heard from him since, so in your mind, you've concluded that he must be really upset - possibly even hurting someplace. 

Not that he knows it yet, but you've been searching for him nonstop after finding out what had happened back at camp which is why you're in this field now; it's the last place you can think of as you grow desperate to find him before the sunset fully sets. How terrible would Four have to be to ignore these fears of yours, letting you continue worrying yourself sick when it's within his power to smooth your anxieties instead? 

"...Uh, I'm right here," You can be forgiven for doubting you hear anything at all provided how quiet the voice had been and the fact that no matter which direction you turn to, you can’t seem to locate the source until it speaks again in a squeak, "Down here. To your left."

You're understandably shocked to look down and find a miniature version of your friend struggling to climb up a small nearby rock (which must feel like a mountain to him), his presence suddenly very clear as his colorful tunic helps him stand out against the gray, "...F-Four? Wha - How did you get like this? What happened?!" 

You could spend all day coming up with explanations for your friend's new appearance, however you'd likely never land on the correct one and it doesn't help that you can barely make out any of his explanation, his voice matching a mere whisper despite how he shouts his words for your attention.

"H-Hold on. I can't hear you," You immediately kneel down in front of the rock, instinctually reaching out towards him yet freezing mid action. He cocks his head to the side, curiously waiting for you to gain enough confidence to pair with your next question, "I...Would it be okay if I pick you up? Or is that rude? I don't know if that’s rude or not or if you -"

Amid your rambling, Four nods, taking a few steps forward which you take as an invite to lower your cupped hands against the rock and allow him to climb on. Once able, you gently lift him to eye level, "Are you okay? Is this...normal for you?"

He nods again this time paired with a shrug as if this whole experience shouldn't be too much of a surprise, then again, the more you think about it, it probably shouldn't be. First Twilight now Four. You really should interrogate all the boys to find out what other crazy secrets and abilities they may be keeping from you (you're already guessing Time has a few up his sleeves).

You sigh upon realizing Four truly does seem okay, nothing about his tiny expression giving away any negative emotions, in fact you can make out an amused smile as he watches everything set in your mind, "...I was starting to freak out there a little when I couldn't find you. Hyrule said you ran off after Warrior was giving you grief about your height earlier. They made it sound like you were pretty upset - which you shouldn't be because who gives a crap if you're the shortest in the group? You're still plenty smarter and Hylia knows more mature than to tease your comrades into running away - but my point is, since you hadn't returned yet on your own I began to think that maybe you weren't coming back at all and -"

"- Thank you for worrying, but I actually wasn't that upset about what Warrior had said," Four cuts you off while setting a hand on your thumb. His touch only has about the same weight as a feather and even tickles a bit, however you force yourself not to focus on that.

"You weren't?"

"No. I was more annoyed than anything since it does get repetitive to have people constantly pointing out my height -" He rolls his eyes at the thought, "- But I don't mind being the shortest. Like you said, I have other strengths, not to mention there's actually a lot of advances to being short."

"This being one of them?" You smirk, wondering what he could've even been up to while so tiny, although that's a question for another day.

“You could say that,” Four shares your laughter, "...I guess it probably is a good thing you're the one who came looking for me, though. If one of the others were to find me like this, I doubt the jokes would ever end."

"Oh, I'm sure. They'd give you hell. You are pretty adorable like this, though."

Four blinks, not certain if he had heard correctly. He might've fully dismissed the comment if not for your own realization at what you had just said, the embarrassment clear upon your bashful expression and hurried excuses, "W-Well, what I meant to say was that...Objectively, small things are considered cute, and you're like the size of a little mouse which is adorable, even though you're always cute, it's especially when you can just fit in the palm of my hand like this - which isn’t the point! But I, umm -"

Once again, Four is kind enough to save you from digging yourself further into a hole, the only difference is he does so without much prior thought, instead blurting the words eagerly himself, after all this might just be the perfect opportunity to get it off his chest, "- I think you're cute, too! You're, uh, always cute, too."

You stare at him without response which may have been a scary thing if not for your wide, delighted grin; something that only confirms Four's previous statement.

"Could you, um...?" He coughs into his fist, looking away from you with a fierce blush, "Bring me a bit closer please?"

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but once you do, you quickly nod and move your hands closer to your face, thus bringing Four close enough to lean out of your hands ever so carefully so that he may place a barely felt kiss upon your nose. 

Startling him a bit, you can't suppress the squeal you give as a reaction, "I'm sorry, but that was sooo adorable!"

He chuckles and although he may not make a sound beside it, don't doubt that he feels the same squealing joy in his chest as you sit back in the grass with him held warmly against your cheek.

.

.

.

"...Shouldn't we get back soon? Won’t the others worry?"

"Let them. It can be their punishment for being jerks earlier."

[galaxyedging]

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

WC: 774

Follow on from Prima Nocta.

Series Masterlist

Summary: Marcus proposes plans to further support you.

Warnings: minor smutty thoughts.

Dum spiro, spero

The mid afternoon sun fills your bed chamber with a hazy golden glow. The light breeze freshly scented by the River Tiber flows through the drapes. It cools your fevered skin in the wake of his touch. His large hand skims your soft skin. Every nerve lights up in its wake. A domino effect has the sensation travelling downward, threatening to push you over the edge into something unknown and primal. His eyes burn umber in the sunlight as they meet yours in a silent question before he dips his head low to your body. Before his plush lips touch the skin of your bare breasts, a sharp intake of breath wakes you.

The light covers are twisted around your legs. Sweat covers your skin. A knot is tied low in your stomach. General Acacius has retreated back into your deeply hidden dreams. The slick between your thighs changes your afternoon plans. A visit to the public baths will be in order. Dreams of the General, Marcus as he now insists you call him, have become more frequent as have his visits. 

Since the night he rescued you from the marriage your parents insisted on, Marcus has made an effort to support you. Your standing in society was a strange one. As a widow you belonged to no man, you were allowed your freedom. Yet as a woman still young enough to birth children the fact that you made no attempt to remarry was frowned upon. Marcus lent his support to discourage idle gossip. No one would dare risk falling out of his good graces. Marcus would visit, bringing fresh fruits and materials to further your education. He made no secret of the fact that you had his favour. As much as you appreciated his kindness and propriety, days like this made you wish for a little impropriety in your relationship.

The gathering at the Forum was of no interest to you tonight. The speeches faded into the night as your dream replayed in your mind. The prospect of seeing Marcus divided you. Part of you longed to set eyes on him, to drink in every inch of his beauty. The other part cursed the possibility of seeing his wife on his arm and it feeding unfavourable emotions inside of you. Too lost in your thoughts you didn't see your mother approaching until it was far too late. Another uncomfortable introduction followed. They were frequent as of late. Your mother was determined to find a new suitor for you. The whole exchange was routine now. Your mother would praise the two of you, heavily hinting at your suitability. You would be gracious and polite, silently praying to the Gods for the moment to be over. Once it was you would retreat as quickly as possible. The difference this time was that in your haste to get away you almost ran straight into Marcus. While mumbling an apology to his feet you missed the look on his face at you talking to another man.

The darkness was blissfully silent, even your thoughts had quietened. You doubted that you would have heard it otherwise. The quiet rap of knuckles on your door. It drew you from your bed to find Marcus at your door.

“I'm sorry to intrude at such a late hour but I wish to discuss something with you.” His business like tone intrigued you.

For a moment you wondered if one of the speeches you had failed to listen to tonight had been important.

“I saw your mother attempting to find you another husband.” he began.

“Yes. It's become more frequent.” You sigh wearily. Tired of all her meddling. “I'm almost ten years older than is acceptable to birth your first child. I bring her shame.”

“I could give you a child. They would be illegitimate, of course but I would provide for them.” He spoke as if he was making a trade deal and not asking to take you to bed.

“I…” Words fail you. 

You would be lying if you said you weren't thrilled at the offer. A child of your own. The chance to have your most explicit dreams come true. The reassurance that Marcus would be a constant presence in your life. 

Marcus had fathered over a dozen children who had survived. The few he had with his wife had children of their own. He doted on each and every one. He provided for the illegitimate ones, you knew this first hand as you have accompanied your father to deliver goods to them. 

“I accept.” The words are as much a shock to you as they are to Marcus. 

[kitkatscabinet]

I wanna get close to you, you are my dream come true

Aemond Targaryen x f! reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen wasn't exactly what many considered to be an eligible bachelor, handsome yes, but still terrifying and slightly insane. That matters little to you though, from the moment you see him for the first time Aemond is all that you want, even if he wasn't so receptive.

Genre: fluff, reader needs to get a hobby that isn't related to Aemond

Word count: idk wrote this on my phone cause I’m camping

A/N: rushed ending, unedited

From the moment you had laid eyes on Aemond Targaryen you knew there would never be another. It wasn't quite love at first sight, you weren't so naive as to think his personality was guaranteed to be as pretty as his face, but it might have been something close.

Silently you cursed the gods for having to take Laena away in order for you to meet the boy. You cursed them even harder in the aftermath of a grieving children's squabble turned deadly. Especially after your first, and what you feared would be your last conversation with him. He had been adorably shy, evidently not used to the attention, cheeks flushing the prettiest pink. You had beamed at the boy, trading quips back and forth in Valyrian at your behest and patiently corrected any mispronunciation. You screamed and raged at the gods for their cruelty, condemning you to long for a boy that would eternally associate you with one of the people that had cost him an eye.

As you bid him farewell, there had been a guarded hostility in his eye and your heart shattered for the young boy. Determination had flooded your veins, giving you the courage to quickly lean in and gently kiss the skin under his newly lost eye. A laugh of delight escaped as you witnessed his skin flush that pretty pink again. Looking back on it, that had been when you'd decided to fully dedicate yourself to making Aemond yours.

Your efforts were, however, continuously thwarted by your presence on Driftmark. As Baela's lady-in-waiting you had stayed by her side when her sister and father returned to Dragonstone, which in turn of course thwarted any plans to see Aemond. You had no reason to visit King's Landing and he certainly had no business that would send him to the Velaryon's.

You were nothing if not determined though, and spent many an hour writing to the boy you were determined to court. He never responds, that did nothing to deter you. Not even when two months after your initial letter he sends you a single word. Stop. His irritation only fuelling your fervour, because if he was telling you to stop then surely he'd read your previous letters.

You had even taken to writing his parents, at the subtle but amused behest of Princess Rhaenys. King Viserys seemed delighted at the prospect, entertaining your responses in a way that slightly saddened you. Even the king was lonely it seemed.

Queen Alicent had been slightly more hesitant, though your persistent nature paired with her innate longing for a close relationship with a daughter slowly won her over.

His family has gone insane. That's the only possible explanation Aemond can muster up for the sudden madness that has overtaken them. His head is still reeling from the conversation he had with his father. A conversation the man had called him for, a conversation surrounding you. The insufferable girl that simply would not leave him be, pestering him with letter after letter even when he demanded you stop.

Even his own mother and sister have apparently fallen prey to your cunning deceptions. It's like the gods have cursed him, his every waking thought and conversation somehow circles back to you.

He firmly pushes down the small voice, that sounds alarmingly like Aegon, whispering that he simply didn't have to read her letters. Nor does he let himself admit they have slowly become the highlight of his days. This is what he tells himself as he finally replies, he's only doing so because his parents ordered him, there is no other reason.

Over the next six years you see Aemond twice, the moments are fleeting and not nearly enough, but you fall in love a little bit more all the same.

The third time you see him is a grim affair, one that ends with blood splattering against your face and the floor as Vaemond Velaryon is struck down by a wroth-filled Daemon. Your eyes gravitate towards Aemond, only to be struck slightly giddy as you realise he is already looking your way. There is something distinctly heavy in his gaze that forces your breath to catch in your throat as your fingers clench against your skirts. Unfortunately, Baela has come to know you better than you know yourself and drags you away to get clean before you can even take a step towards him.

From the moment you enter the throne room Aemond is unable to tear his eye away from your form. Your face is pulled into a tight scowl making your displeasure at Vaemond Velaryon well known to all. Even so, Aemond’s heart lurches against his chest painfully as if attempting to reach your side itself. To wax lyrical on the beauty you have become, to demand you return his mind to him.

Six years have passed slowly, but even though he has only made your acquaintance in person three times his mind is made up. He is going to marry you.

You who had been an annoying thorn in his side with your insistent letters. The girl, the woman that had refused to give up even when he had been less than amicable. The girl that had never shied away, had accepted him as he was physically and emotionally.

Six years have passed of back and forth letters, and somewhere along the way he has fallen in love. If asked he wouldn’t be able to say for sure when it had happened. Maybe it had been when you’d refused to give up, sending him book recommendations and silly anecdotes of your day. Perhaps it had been when you’d first opened up about your feeling of inadequacy as lady Laena’s friend. Though, deep down he knows that it had been from the moment you’d pressed you lips against the skin of his cheek. The soft sensation later causing tears to spring to his eye at the care you had taken. The lack of disgust you had shown for his newly hideous and disfigured face.

He thinks his soul knows yours better than his own at this point. Though as he watches you stand tall even as your skin is covered in scarlet liquid he knows that it cannot possibly be a bad thing.

Watching your back as Baela pulls you away he waits until you are completely out of sight before his own feet start to move. He couldn’t care less if his father needed to rest, an audience was needed before supper.

You aren’t entirely sure why you’ve been invited to the family feast but Princess Rhaenyra had insisted, a wicked gleam in her eyes. You had entered the room on Baela’s arm, dressed in one of the most magnificent gowns you’d ever seen, only to be immediately seated next to the prince that had held your affections for years.

Had this been any other occasion you likely would have been vibrating in excitement but there is a certain tension in the air that causes your muscles to clench. However, you quickly realise it isn’t tension from divided factions. In fact, in a miraculous turn of events everyone seemed to be getting along. This observation did not ease your nerves, for along with it came the realisation that you were receiving sideways glances and smirks from most parties.

Just before you can speak up the king is raising a toast and you are forced to attention. It isn’t until halfway through his speech that you realise Aemond has been staring at you intently the entire time. The kings words fade slightly into the background as you become entranced with his features. His gorgeous violet eye has softened considerably and you almost choke on your spit once you realise he is smiling slightly. Smiling at you, a look you had only imagined over the previous years as a response to your letters.

The sound of your name wrenches your attention back to weirdly jubilant king, his glass raised in your direction. Your eyes have widened owlishly as you realise you have no idea what has just happened.

Luckily Baela senses you plight and raises her own glass with a smirk before toasting to your new engagement.

“To the newly betrothed” Jace tacks on, pulling cheers from the tables occupants. Your throat dries as your brain tries to process the last few seconds. Multiple sets of eyes have attached themselves to you as if waiting for a reply you do not have. A weight on your hand has you looking down in time to witness Aemond’s long fingers entwining with your own before he is pressing a kiss to the back of your hand with a smirk.

“To my future wife” he raises his own glass, and that is the last thing you see and hear before the world is suddenly pitching backwards and everything goes dark. Though, even through the haze you swear you feel a lithe arm pulling you close to a warm chest just as you succumb.

join my taglist!

[1-800-kami]

as the world caves in | nanami kento

warnings: fem!reader. major spoilers for shibuya arc. canon-divergent.

to think that the grade one sorcerer, nanami kento, would be fated to be killed by the very same cursed spirit that he’d just about ripped apart with itadori yuuji. the circumstances were almost comical—barely paying any attention to mahito during their previous encounter—now, he’s dying from his very own hands.

nanami could almost laugh at his situation, except…

he was with you.

the one constant in his life. the lively dandelion in this vast field of dead grass. the reason why he’d prefer not to go overtime anymore—all so he could spend his time with you.

with the both of you on the precipice of death, nanami wonders if this was a fitting end for him.

sometimes, he’d stay awake late at night and think about the dangers of both your lives as a sorcerer, knowing that a long life was practically out of the picture. he thought about safety often, but mainly yours. he’d trade his life for yours in a heartbeat—he knows that. he’d do anything to keep you safe. he declared that a long time ago.

he didn’t think about this, though—the notion of dying in each other’s arms.

like a seal of fate. walking into the afterlife, hand in hand.

“nanamin,” you whisper, voice hoarse, a few coughs of blood with the meek call of his name. “are we going to die?”

he can’t find it in him to answer that question. instead, he uses all of his strength to take your limp body in his arms, making sure to interlock both of your hands. “i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you, love.”

you squeeze his hand with a laugh, though it just comes out as a painful wheeze. “that’s bullshit. you know i don’t mind dying if it means that i die with you.”

i don’t mind dying if it means that i die with you.

nanami doesn’t seem to mind either.

“can i ask you something?” the strength in your voice is slowly running out. he knows you’re spending the last of your energy through talking to him, and he’s doing the same. nanami hums in response to your question.

“will you marry me?”

he freezes at that. because nanami realizes that at that moment—he’ll never get to do the things that he eventually wanted to do with you. the parts of adulthood that make life seem worth it: getting engaged, getting married, having kids, watching them grow up, and holding hands in the porch of your old home as you find peace in retiring as a sorcerer.

all of that bliss was forcefully ripped from his grasp. the aspects of life that make humans human—he can’t even do them with you. so, he seizes this opportunity.

“yes—of course i will, darling..” you can feel your eyes water.

“i now.. pronounce…” your words are interrupted with another fit of coughing up blood. still, you continue talking, despite how much energy this simple task takes. “the newlywed couple.. husband and wife…”

you pictured your eventual wedding with kento as a traditional style wedding. all of your friends would be invited—as well as your students. maybe you’d even make yuuji the flower boy. and you know that nanami would still choose gojo as his best man, despite his feigned annoyance towards him.

the wedding wasn’t ought to be grand. you didn’t even need an abundance of people to attend. your friends, students, and others that you held dear were enough to make you happy during your special day. you didn’t expect your wedding to happen while you were dying in your newlywed husband’s arms. though there was one thing you were sure of—you did not want to leave this earth simply as nanami’s girlfriend.

there were no wedding arbours. no rings, no congratulatory cheers from your friends. no cheeky flower toss that you were excited to do during your day. just you and your husband, slowly bleeding out on the floor, hand in hand.

with your free hand, you shakily cup his cheek and pull him in for one last kiss. your “altar” kiss, per se.

your own actions make you tear up, and you could feel the salty teardrops dripping down your cheeks. still, nanami finds the strength to wipe away your tears.

“i can’t believe i get to call you y/n nanami now.” you both laugh, noticing how kento also has tear stains on his cheek—the man is not one to cry easily.

the adrenaline pumping in your veins is slowly leaving, replaced by a soul crushing tiredness—the immense need to go to sleep.

“i’m tired, nanamin…”

it seems like the time has come.

the time to say goodbye.

“my beautiful husband.” you whisper, eyes slowly lulling itself to sleep. a squeeze of his hand, one last time.

“thank you for everything, my wife. i love you. don’t you ever forget that.” he squeezes your hand back, beginning to shut his eyes as well.

silence rings around the room as you don’t return his words. it was almost deafening.

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ The Perfect Love Scheme - p.sh

♡ sypnosis: a jack of all trades by self proclamation and loser-nerd in actuality; park sunghoon would stay at home for the rest of his life if it wasn’t for his party-hungry friends. his quiet and anxious demeanor when you first met him in the club is exactly what makes you greatful he didn’t though. tonight was the night you were going to convince your friends that you were going home with someone. maybe then they’d finally leave you alone about love. a little love scheme never hurt nobody, right?

♡ genre: fluff, kinda suggestive, pinch of angst, strangers to lovers, non-idol au, fem!reader

♡ 6.5k word count

♡ warnings: cursing, anxiety mentioned, suggestive, drinking mentioned, sarcastic jokes?, please let me know if there’s any i missed!

♡ nano note: i really hope yall like this as much as i do! sunghoon has been terrorizing me lately so i needed to write something. feedback is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

Sunghoon doesn’t know who the fuck said you couldn’t find love in the club.

He wants a name, a number, a fucking address. Maybe then he could track them down and show them—not tell them—how wrong they are; he’s quite literally staring at the very definition.

The moment he spotted you on the dance floor, you quite literally rendered him speechless and when your eyes met his for the first time, he felt a hot feeling surge through his chest. Sunghoon has had his fair share of relationships and failed talking stages, yet he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before.

You were gorgeous.

There was something about the way you danced about carelessly in the dark; not one worry in the world. You looked so free; like you belonged to you and only you. You didn’t seem to care if people watched you, you didn’t care if people were actively judging you. You were just being your authentically free self whilst the music ran through and moved you like you had not one thing to lose.

Wow.

Sunghoon wishes he could be like that.

His crippling anxiety had gotten worse as of recent and he felt trapped into an abyss he couldn’t run from, just worries and more worries piling onto one another. This, in turn, had him all pent up in his room for a couple of months. He for sure thinks that within the last year his social skills have gotten worse too, so there was really no reason to go out into public and socialize if he didn’t have to, right?

He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself.

Yet here he was.

Maybe letting Heeseung and Jake drag him to the hell hole that was this busy night club located in the middle of Itaewon’s party district wasn’t such a bad idea. They had been on his ass for a long time now about going out to party on the weekends, and they’d finally gotten him out of the house tonight. Yes, this took a lot of effort on their part, and yes, Sunghoon almost had a mental breakdown whilst waiting in the line outside to get into the club, but his friends weren’t going to let him go home until he was wasted it seems.

He was being forced to have fun.

Heeseung had practically grappled him by the scruff of his neck onto the dance floor, drinks in both of their hands threatening to spill as he uttered; “Sunghoon, let go of your fucking pride and worries for once. Literally nobody is going to remember tomorrow—including you.”

But boy, was he wrong.

Because, how could he ever forget you?

You in your cute little dress.

You and your pretty face; eyes so entrancing and wonderous. At the same time the energy exuding from your demeanor was that you were quite guarded and closed off.

You read ‘tread carefully’ when anyone on the dance floor got remotely close to you, and you stayed relatively close to your group of friends—yet to him, this was more the reason to be so enthralled with your presence. This sentiment couldn’t be truer the moment you caught his eyes staring at you too.

The previous look of being preoccupied with yourself had changed painstakingly slow, and a pretty smirk curls onto your lips when you had realized you’d gained an audience.

His audience.

He wanted to die and ascend to heaven right then and there—he swore he’d be perfectly okay with that too.

Sunghoon paces himself as his thoughts run rampant at the sight of you moving closer.

Pretty girl is coming over here, pretty girl is coming over here—she’s coming over here fuck!

And as he awkwardly sways about on the dance floor, a very strained and creaky look taking over his figure-skater frame as he fixes the chunky framed glasses on his face, he swore that the strangers dancing about must have been paid extras or something—they quite literally started to clear the way for you.

Like you were Moses.

Like you were some extraterrestrial and heavenly being.

Like you were parting the red fucking sea.

“Are you okay? That babe is like…staring you down and making her way over here.” Jake whispers as quietly as he can to Sunghoon over the blaring music.

This does no favors for Sunghoon’s erratic nerves, and he inwardly has to talk himself down from raising his hands back up to his mouth in order to bite his fingernails habitually.

“Yeah, I caught a glimpse of her a couple weeks ago when I was here,” Heeseung butts in, “From what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t really talk to anyone but her friend circle.”

Then why the fuck was she coming over here?

Sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s making a big deal out of this either—ultimately, you could go anywhere you wanted.

“Nah, she’s kind of approaching us right now-“ Jake is able to get out before Sunghoon is jabbing him in the stomach with his elbow.

Within a few seconds you were standing in front of them three; a pretty sexy smile on display that Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever seen you wear before.

Sunghoon is going to shit himself.

“Hi, Uhh- My friend over there was wondering if you were single. She wanted to talk to you actually.” You say, shifting to stare Jake dead in the eyes.

This wasn’t like you.

I mean yes, you were definitely lying right now and no friend of yours had even seen these three on this side of the club, but you couldn’t really contain yourself when you caught the raven-haired one staring you down. Yes, you had always preached the importance of falling in love with yourself and learning to be comfortable with being alone to your sex-thirsty friends—but you had to admit this one was a looker and warranted your curiosity. So, you broke your own rules and approached undeniably the best looking trio of men you think you’ve ever seen before—and there was no time for your insecurities to say you couldn’t.

“Who? Me?” Jake says, completely confused by your sudden gaze detaching from Sunghoon and being expectantly placed on him.

“Yeah, she’s the blonde back there.” You state, looking over your shoulder and pointing to your very lesbian friend.

She could play the part whilst you figure out a way to distract the doe-eyed looking guy. Your friends did this all the time with you, so it was their turn now. You’re sure they’d be more than happy to know you’ve taken interest in someone too.

“Oh, well if you’ll excuse me.” Jake says, bottom lip going between his teeth after he smiles at you, then he’s quickly sauntering off towards your friend.

You pass him a smile back and pray to every god in existence that your friends read the room before you’re turning back to the other two men.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we got your name…” Heeseung starts, sending you a very amused smile as he places a friendly firm arm around Sunghoon to tap him into being engaged with the conversation now that you were standing right the fuck in front of him.

“Oh! My bad, I’m Y/n.” You say, outstretching your hand for a quite formal introduction for the club.

You don’t let the burns of embarrassment that sprall out across your cheeks faze you though—the beauty-marked boy seems to like you still by the looks of his matching pink ones.

The doe-eyed one shakes your hand firmly first, then pretty boy does, albeit a bit shaky. “I’m Heeseung, this is Sunghoon.” Bambi states, obviously doing you both a favor and trying to get the nervous looking Sunghoon to start talking.

Sunghoon just smiles like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet as he holds his breath for your next words.

Cute.

You liked that.

“It’s really nice to meet you guys, uhm, Sunghoon? Would you like to dance?” You ask, placing all your cards on the table right away because tonight you were feeling quite interested in this one. Sunghoon burns from the inside out as he takes a few moments to process your words.

Pretty girl’s standing here? Pretty girl’s asking me to dance?? Fuck fuck fuck!

“Uh- Well, i don’t really like dancing-“

“He loves to fucking dance! Of course he would!” Heeseung cuts him off, both of his hands going to Sunghoon’s upper back to push him towards you maliciously—I mean, benevolently!

Sunghoon’s eyes go wide as they stare at your very pleased and amused expression, and he doesn’t know whether or not to stab or thank Heeseung the next time he see’s him.

Only time can tell.

“Cool, let’s go.” You state quite simply, reaching out and grabbing onto Sunghoon’s hand and softly pulling him along with you.

Red hot blush shoots down the back of his neck as he caves in and decides to follow.

You hastily turn around once you get to a good space on the dance floor for you two, and immediately pull him closer to place his hands on your hips. He feels he can’t take his eyes away from you, completely entranced now as you smile and lean in to whisper; “…You can touch me, loosen up pretty boy.”

When you pull away with that sly but inviting smile still plastered on your face, Sunghoon suddenly decides that the dozens of eyes and possible dozens more camera phones in the room don’t fucking matter anymore. His hands lightly lift off your hips as he then decides to pinch the sequins of your dress in order to pull you closer by the fabric in the most politest, non-loser, totally un-nervous way possible.

You just smile up at him as you let a laugh out, because now your proximity has you realizing just how tall his pretty and nervous self is.

He sends you a bashful smile as you start to sway to the beat, then your arms find their way around his neck. There’s a few moments of him just swaying until he gets more comfortable touching you again, but the way your eyes dared not to deter from his made him feel like he could get on the floor and do the fucking worm and you’d still choose him to dance with you.

Were you a vixen?

A temptress of some sort?

Was he going to be lured to your bed chambers where you cooked him in potions and used him for spells?

He thinks he just might consent to this with the way you trail your hands down to grip and hold onto the collar of his shirt to pull him down to your height this time.

“How have I never seen you here before?” You ask over the music, quite endeared by his everything. Then he smiles; his striking brows, beauty marks, and newly unveiled and very pointy canines all come together so seamlessly to form this big butterfly in your stomach.

You became curious about just how many girls and guys—and hearts in general—have been lost and entranced by that face.

“Uh-This is the first time in a long time being here actually. I don’t go out much.” He lets out nervously, his eyes shifting to your lips for a split second before his eyes are on yours again.

This was the exact moment where you decided to get a glimpse of his own lips—and damn, you were suddenly filled with many ideas of how to make sure they’d be placed on your own later tonight.

“Oh, is that so?” You say through a smirk, tilting your head to the side as you dance. This is where Sunghoon starts to feel all giddy inside.

You were really cute, too.

“Yes…” He confirms, tilting his head to be parallel with yours, and for once he feels a spark of confidence. Before you can even blush at this cute gesture, he’s winking at you quite smoothly.

This sends your butterfly morphing into thousands, and when your heart rate speeds up at the prolonged eye contact that you two hold, you realize you can’t take it any more. You distance yourself from his lean figure whilst your right hand finds his own before you’re turning around and interlacing his hand with yours as his arm drapes around your shoulder; your back now pressed to his chest.

Sunghoon feels he is going to pass out right here, right now, because wow, you smell amazing as his hand instinctively finds your waist; the both of you two-stepping to the beat. You both continue on like this, Sunghoon making eye contact with Heeseung from across the way and being met with a thumbs up and a wiggle of the eye-brows.

This ultimately makes Sunghoon blush harder as he goes to push his glasses up further on his nose bridge to busy himself. When he hears you giggle in front of him over the music, he internally screams because fuck she definitely saw that.

You take this moment to turn again and disconnect your two’s hands so that you could talk to him face to face now that the start of the parasite called emotions has calmed down.

“Your friend looks quite happy that you’re dancing with me…” You tease as you continue to two-step and fix the strap of your dress.

“Oh, d-don’t mind him! I’m not going to ask you to come home with me or anything—I’m sorry if he’s being creepy-“

“What if I want to go home with you?” You cut him off.

Fuck it.

What did you have to lose?

You watch as Sunghoon’s whole face goes red, his eye’s widening as he tilts his head down questioningly at you.

“What?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at his shock.

“Sunghoon, can I let you in on something?” You say, deciding to just come clean.

At the same time, you’re peering over his shoulder and meeting eyes with your group of friends who smiled your way to let you know they were watching you. It’s there where a light-bulb turns on and the gears in your head finally start churning.

Is this not the perfect idea?

Plus, he was really cute and shy—what could go wrong? He didn’t seem like a weirdo or a murderer—

“Sure, you can tell me…” He says, eyeing you suspiciously as he still tries to grapple with the words you uttered a second ago.

“Do you see my friends behind you?” You ask, and Sunghoon’s quick to turn his head and see their eyes on him.

“Uh yeah, they’re kind of staring over here-“

“Yeah, they’ve been trying to get me to go home with someone for weeks—I’ve just been blowing them off and having fun by myself…” You say, and you decide to lean forward to get a bit closer to him. “Do you catch what I’m throwing?” You ask, hoping he could help you out with your new scheme to get your friends off your back.

Sunghoon nods as he starts to wrap his head around the situation. “Oh- so you don’t want to go home go home with me, you want to fool your friends….” He states slowly, staring off into thought.

You laugh, pulling him back down to earth, then take your turn pulling him closer by the cloth of his shirt. He smiles awkwardly at this but inwardly he’s cussing himself out for being such a fucking loser who wasn’t meant to say any of that out loud.

“I mean-“

“I know what you meant. You’re right.” You say through a smile, grabbing his hands and placing them both back on your hips that you sway slowly—and just like that he’s back to being speechless.

“I’d really like it if you played the part for me. Think of it as doing me a favor.” You reason, your hands now wrapping around his neck again.

He stares at you through his lenses as he weighs his options.

From the start of the night he didn’t want to be here either—if he’s honest, you were now the only reason to stay besides to please his friends. Plus, if he looked like he was taking you home now, maybe they’d leave him alone and stop worrying about him.

It was a win-win situation.

Fuck it.

“Okay, I’ll take you home.” He states firmly, eyes looking into each of your eyes just as the song switches to something more sensual and down-tempo. You smile in response and try to deny the fact that his words and eyes make the butterflies flutter again.

“Perfect.”

And then he smiles back—cheeks just as blushy as yours.

“Perfect.”

There’s a moment of silence between you as you’re both quick to adapt to the music change. You scan his features again, and he watches you do so, heart pounding hard in his chest. When your fingers go to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he eyes your lips, it feels like instinct for you two to lean in.

It all plays out so slow.

It feels like millions of years go by as he leans down and a million more when you tip-toe to meet him in the middle. In that hazy-eyed daze, right before your lips touch, you mutter words that almost break Sunghoon’s heart clean in half.

“…This will really sell it, won’t it? I hope they’re watching.”

And still, despite the fact that it’s all for show, his heart feels like it’s stitched back together again the moment he hums as an answer and you smash your lips onto his. It’s borderline intimacy; the way your tongue infiltrates his mouth and the feeling of your plush lips on his. When he tilts his head for a better angle and you hum in response, he’s sure you’re about to win an Emmy, an Oscar, a fucking Tony.

The way the both of you manage to sway slowly to the music at the same time might earn you a Grammy as well; you were a great fucking performer—no, a great fucking kisser.

Sunghoon was going to thank Heeseung.

He was going to kiss the ground he walks on the next time he see’s him outside of the club.

Shit, he’ll name his first born after him.

You were perfect.

—

Shortly after your two’s make-out session that lasted longer than it probably should’ve, you were quick to interlace his fingers with yours and pull him over to your friends where you left your purse. After gathering your belongings and saying goodbye to your friends after a couple awkward moments of them interrogating a swollen-lipped Sunghoon, you quite literally drag him out of the club.

“Where’s your car?” You ask the still blushy and dazed beauty, and you can’t help but smile as you admire the way the moonlight hits his pale skin.

“M-my car? Oh, it’s over here.” He stutters out before taking the lead, guiding you to his car by the hand. After unlocking it, he then opens the passenger door for you and holds out a hand to aid you with getting in. After you take his hand and sit down, Sunghoon smiles your way before closing the door softly. You take this moment to let go of the breath you were holding, the butterflies going crazy again and mind squealing because you don’t think anyone’s ever done that for you before.

It only takes a few seconds for Sunghoon to run around and get in, then he’s starting the car and buckling himself in pretty quick which makes you laugh. “What’s the rush? Can’t wait to get me home?” You chuckle as he pulls out of the club parking space whilst checking his review mirrors.

He laughs too despite his nerves, and you catch sight of his canines again.

Would it hurt if he bit me-

“No, I just thought it’d be good for the theatrics. What if your friends came out of the club?” He smiles, driving out of the parking lot.

This makes you snort.

“Right, of course! Damn, you really thought this through didn’t you? You should become a scriptwriter.” You say playfully.

Sunghoon’s eyes shift back and forth between you and the road a couple times, his smile never faltering.

“That’s actually kind of funny because, I kind of write as a side job.” He confirms.

This makes your eyes widen pleasantly.

“A writing side job? Okay director, actor, writer, dancer—What else do you do? What’s your main thing?” You decide to ask, but not without throwing in a joke.

“Dancer? Are you making fun of me?” He laughs out, coming up on a red-light.

You chuckle and face him, “No?! Your moves are what entranced me before I even danced with you!”

He squints his eyes at you and the car comes to a halt, so he decides to roll his long sleeves up his arms.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a figure-skater on the side too, so i actually can decently dance. But before I tell you what I really do, where exactly am I taking you?” He asks, a new-found comfort finding home in his demeanor. You stare at him for a bit, forcing yourself to keep your eyes up at his face and not on his now exposed veiny arms.

“Uhh, I’m not going to lie—I kind of want shaved-ice. Can we get some?” You ask randomly, voice getting tinier in embarrassment as the words leave your lips.

What?

Maybe you were hungry.

Maybe you wanted more time with pretty boy.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

“I’m always up for some ice cream,” He laughs out, “…but is anything even open right now?”

Your face grows a little hot at the realization that oh fuck it’s two in the morning and he’s right. “Oh, I didn’t even realize…” You mumble.

“We can go to the gas station for a slushy or something still?” Sunghoon proposes, pressing lightly on the gas as the light turns green and immediately shifting lanes to drive to the next 24-hour gas station.

“Please? Sorry if i’m asking for too much.” You say quietly as you sink into your seat; every fiber of confidence in your body suddenly vanishing.

“You don’t need to apologize, I know a nice park close to this gas station where we can drink the slushies.” He says without much thought. This makes you smile wholeheartedly again.

“A park? Is that where you murder me in cold blood? Or are you going to push me on the swing?” You joke, heart feeling very full because; he wants to stick around.

He wants to talk longer.

Now it’s Sunghoon’s turn to sink into his seat as he once again regrets spewing the first words that come to mind. He was usually so careful and quiet before he responds to others, too.

What were you doing to him?

“No! The park kind of just came to mind. Sorry, we don’t have to-“

“No! I want to go. You don’t need to apologize.” You state, repeating his earlier comforting words.

He goes silent, a smile making its way back onto his face as he pulls into the gas station and parks. He takes another moment to smile at you again as he unbuckles himself. You reciprocate it shyly before you’re both getting out of the car and making your way into the store.

“I can fill mine faster than you can.” You say as you two come up on the slushy aisle. Sunghoon can’t help but let a chuckle out at your playfulness.

“I’m not going to race you, I want multiple flavors.” He says through a smile as he grabs two cups and hands you one. You just roll your eyes at him and sigh at his lack of childishness. “True…”

Sunghoon frowns for a second—was he ruining the mood?

“Fine, I’ll race you,” He starts, “…but we have to do half one flavor, half another.”

You smile his way; this double flavor slushy action being right up your alley. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

And so you race.

Everything was going fine.

You were in the lead as the banana flavored drink flowed faster than his pink strawberry dispenser could even keep up with—this sparks a laugh from your lips when Sunghoon groans out of frustration and furrows his brows.

“Ha!”

“Well, you have to do this flavor next for it to be fair!”

“Shut up, I’m trying to focus!”

You both quickly focus in on your drinks that fill to the halfway mark before quickly maneuvering around eachother in a fit of laughter in order to dispense the next flavor.

“I’m going to win-“

“What’s that sound?”

Before you both can comprehend where that sudden high-pitched ringing was coming from, Sunghoon’s slushy machine is filling up his cup at the speed of light as banana slushy squirts quick into the bottom, forcing his lid completely off. The cold sticky drink is shooting quick into the air from off the bottom of his cup and soaks every thing in its wake—including the pretty beauty-marked man.

“What the fuck!” You scream as it happens, backing away and getting splattered on only a bit. Sunghoon is silent the whole time, his eyes tightly scrunched closed.

There’s a few moments of shocking silence before staff is rushing over and apologizing, spewing incoherent statements like; “Fuck, Jungwon! Niki forgot to put the sign up before he left his shift!” and “Jay, please tell me you’re lying.”

You can’t help but place a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing when Sunghoon’s eyes open and glare at you through dirty lenses. You quickly rush to get some napkins along with a sunny-eyed staff member.

“Are you okay? I guess you won…”

“Y/n.” He utters your name for the first time, and even though it’s in a threatening manner, the flutters of various colorful wings inside you are sent into a frenzy again.

“What? I’m sorry, okay, i’ll shut up.” You laugh out, helping him wipe cold banana liquid off of his nice shirt. “We’re so sorry sir! Feel free to use any other flavor whilst we get this mess cleaned up. Your drinks are on us.” Say’s the apparent manager who’s name tag was labeled Kim Sunoo.

“Thank you!” You respond for the now cold and shivering Sunghoon.

“This shit is so cold, i don’t think i want it anymore.” Sunghoon borderline wines as he cleans his glasses. This makes you laugh again as your finger goes to wipe slushy off his jaw. Without thinking, you suck the liquid off your finger.

“Hey, this just means you’re twice as sweet.” You say, giving him a thumbs up and winking just like Heeseung as you watch him change colors.

Park Sunghoon get a grip, you were not supposed to be attracted to that.

“Okay! We can go now, banana boy.” You state after filling two drinks up very carefully.

Sunghoon just continues to shake and glare at you as he walks side-by-side with you to the car. When you both get inside, he’s quick to turn the heater on dispite it being the middle of June.

“Y/n, I don’t think i can get out of the car, I’m so cold right now.” He sighs out as he parks the car. You had both now arrived down the street at the park he was talking about before, and despite it being so pretty with the green grassy field and cute little playground; Sunghoon’s discomfort was more important to you.

You watch as he seems to sip happily on his now free blueberry slushy and you can’t help but laugh at this whilst Sunghoon bashfully smiles because he’s the cause of it.

Man, he wanted it on a record. He’d jump in a pool of any flavor slush you wanted him to if it meant he’d hear you laugh like this again.

“Fine. We can stay.” You say, leaning back into his passenger seat as you side eye him whilst still giggling.

He closes his eyes in a tired thanks as he too sinks into his seat.

“Okay, now you can tell me who you are. Spill your guts banana boy.”

Sunghoon opens his eyes to glare again. “I will drop you off at the gas station and leave you there if you keep that up.” He jokes, resting his head on the head rest and turning his face to look at you through his lashes and lenses.

You blush as you smirk playfully. “Okay okay, I’ll bring it down a notch i guess. Now tell me.”

Sunghoon sighs.

Is this the part where he tells you how much of a loser he really is?

“Well…I’m actually a…uh-“ He stutters out.

“Just tell me. I won’t judge.” You say, a genuine welcoming smile gracing your face as you tilt your head to be basically face to face with his. He smiles, and you watch as his eyes trail over your features.

“I’m an app developer.”

Your brows furrow at this.

“What? That’s not something to be embarrassed about. What type of apps do you make?”

Sunghoon sighs and faces forward.

“I make dating apps.”

Oh.

“But not even the ones that work, it’s the ones that you have to buy into in order to get decent matches.” He mutters, and it’s almost like he feels dead talking about what he does for a living. His eyes are blank. Mind is back to racing and worrying.

Oh.

You frown.

“Ah, so this isn’t your first love scheme then…I’m not your first love scheme.” You say, smiling and staring over at him, tone very supportive and lighthearted.

He looks back over to you and smiles lightly.

“Nope.”

Sunghoon wants to die.

“Well…look on the bright side, somewhere out there is a love scheme that you had a hand in that actually backfired on your silly little app. Like, imagine two people from one of your apps came together when they weren’t supposed to. Yet, somehow…they work just right.” You ramble on, hopeless romantic thoughts that were usually burried deep within spraying out like they were banana slushy.

When you come back to reality, you’re met with Sunghoon’s piercing eyes on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s goes the eye contact again.

“I never really thought about it like that.” He says, and his hand mindlessly lifts in order to play with the ends of your hair.

You smile, the butterflies now evolving to produce a hot sensation that spreads through your body.

“Yeah, it’s like a perfect love scheme. It’s not supposed to work—yet, it does.” You say, reaching out for his glasses and taking them off his face altogether. You go ahead and place them on your own face, smiling at him the whole time with this idiotic grin.

Sunghoon blushes and reciprocates your smile. He couldn’t see shit now but you were so hot. What the fuck was he going to do??

“Thank you.” He manages to whisper, still staring your way. He doesn’t know specifically for what, but just….thank you.

Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being so inviting. Thank you for even looking his way. Thank you for listening. Thank you for seeing the best in every terrible situation he’s had today. Thank you for existing.

Just, thank you.

You can only muster a nod as the quiet engulfs the warm air between you two. When you finally avert your eyes to take a sip of your slushy, a slurping noise is what finally breaks the silence and garners an embarrassed laugh from the both of you in response.

“Okay Miss love scheme. Why are you avoiding love?” He finally manages to ask, this burning curiosity filling his thoughts the more he spent time with you.

You frown at him.

“Well damn, that’s a packed question.” You chuckle out, kind of taken aback.

“Is it? You seem quite openly avoidant of love, so I thought this was an easy conversation.” He reasons. “We’re a love scheme to trick your friends into thinking you’re giving love a chance.”

You frown harder.

Oh, yeah.

Right.

“Well…To be honest, I’m not sure.” You utter as you look out the front window in thought.

“I think love avoids me.”

Sunghoon just snorts.

You snap your head over to him in question before leaning forward and resting your head on the dashboard rest.

“What? I’m being serious.”

“Is this what they call a beige flag? It doesn’t feel red or green really.” He says jokingly, his body leaning forward to rest his head and arms on the wheel to meet you face to face again.

“Sunghoon what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know—I just feel like you’re a walking beige flag. You seem to be emotionally available but act like you’re not for whatever reason-“

“Act like I’m not?”

“Yes, you act. You’re a walking love scheme.”

Your face twists into almost hurt.

“That doesn’t really sound like a compliment.”

“It is one because you’re like the perfect version you were talking about,” He says, “…you’re like a perfect love scheme.”

The silence that follows his words is nerve-racking, and you can attribute it to the mutual understanding that a perfect love scheme in itself is a perfectly imperfect thing. Something that happens when it’s not supposed to, yet works out just right. Something worthy of a chance—one could go as far as to say it was something strung by fate.

Through the long silence between you both, you try to gather your thoughts in order to stop your fast-beating heart. After a few minutes of you both in deep thought, you start to take note of Sunghoon’s sleepy form getting very comfortable against the wheel.

“Y/n-“ Sunghoon starts before being cut off by his own yawn, “…quit limiting your love potential—especially if it’s what you desire deep down.” He says like it’s the most simple thing on Earth, just as his eyes struggle to stay open.

A smile makes its way onto your face. You watch as Sunghoon quite literally falls asleep on the wheel of his car, pretty dark long lashes resting against his pale cheeks, beauty marks adorning him perfectly.

He was perfect.

—

Sunghoon wakes up to the sound of a car honking, almost startling him into a heart attack. He doesn’t know where he is for a good five minutes and it takes him another two to realize that he’s in a car in general. His head hurts, he feels sticky, and his neck is so sore from laying forward on the wheel all night.

Why the fuck am I sleeping behind the wheel?

A little blurry look around and he spots a slushy cup.

Wait…

The memories come racing back to him like a banana slushy to the ceiling, and suddenly he remembers it all; why he’s sticky, why he’s in his car parked in front of a playground, why he’s in his party atire and why he feels so giddy at the sight of a slushy cup.

You.

He scans his passenger and back seat and when they both come up negative, he starts to wonder if it was all just a dream.

Where did you go?

He remembers the dancing, your friends, the gas station, sitting in the car and talking; your laugh.

The love scheme.

Could you have really left without a trace?

Did he say some dumb shit when he was tired that scared you off?

He didn’t even get to take you home.

It’s only when he turns on his car do the windshield wipers go ballistic and a yellow piece of paper swiping back and forth across his front window answers his many questions. It takes three seconds tops for him to turn off his car, get out of it, and run around to the front so he could grab the note. His smile is so cheesy and bright, and he probably looks a mess as he goes to sit on the hood of his car to read it.

It’s like it’s the ultimate answer to everything—the feeling stirring in his stomach reminded him of passing notes to pretty girls in grade school with the papers littered in boxes you could check yes or no off of. He felt the time it took to unfold the paper was like a thousand years too—had Christmas come early?

When he finally managed to read the words written on the note he feels his heart just might combust.

banana boy, if you’re reading this, a friend came to pick me up when i woke up this morning. no matter what i did, you wouldn’t wake up…that seems like a beige flag to me idk. anyways, here’s my number if you’d like to stop scheming with me: 000-000-0000. if you still want to scheme, i’m sorry, i can’t anymore. someone told me to stop limiting my love potential. — y/n

Sunghoon doesn’t know what country he’s saved in his previous life, and as he rethinks every good deed he’s ever done to come up with an explanation for you and the ten digits on this yellow paper, he swears his cheeks start to hurt from smiling so hard.

Laying back on the hood of his car, he places his arm over his face as he can no longer contain the chuckles that leave his mouth.

You were real.

Your pretty smile as you chuckled at his stupid jokes in the darkness of his car. Your smirks and frowns and the glint behind your irises. He remembers the laughs and the not-so-subtle touches, and last but certainly not least, he remembers your soft lips on his at the night club earlier that night.

He met you in the club for christ’s sake.

A love scheme personified was what you both were; completely placed on paths that weren’t supposed to meet at all, let alone enjoy that meeting. It was almost laughable, because he swears he more than just enjoyed that meeting a little bit; why did he feel…changed?

Sunghoon no longer felt the need to ever go home because that’s where you weren’t. He can’t help but think about how no matter how sticky the situation got the day before, the way you laughed and supported him through the day, and merely how you simply saw him, had him feeling you were more than just a potential future-fling.

Sunghoon was going to quit his job.

Sunghoon was going to spend his life trying to find the person who said you couldn’t find love in the club so he could shove a banana down their throat.

Sunghoon was completely and utterly taken by the thought of you; no schemes involved.

He’d like to thank the academy, his pushy fucked up friends, his mother for birthing him—no!

Your mother for birthing you.

“Ah…my neck really fucking hurts,” He mutters through a chuckle and pretty upturned lips as he stares up into the bright blue sky. “…I should call Heeseung and Jake,”

“…or should I call her now?”

“…would that be lame?”

2024 © lovepookie

♡ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.