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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,�� he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

#sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader #sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader

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bffhreprise · 3 years

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Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

“Slow down!” exclaimed Iris. “Turn left just up ahead.”

I nodded and complied. She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored. I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb. To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

“He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

“Mila watches everything, so there’s no need. There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain. I had considerably underestimated the size of this place. I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds. Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed. I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed. Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect. James certainly knew how to make an impression.

When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor. “James! Thank you for having us. This is quite a place you’ve got here. Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

“There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed. “Thank you for accepting the invitation. I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game. Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

“This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

“Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

“No need to apologize. We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion. Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this. Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology? “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

“You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees. I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts. We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James. “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in. My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.” Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you. She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

“How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

“My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything. You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son. “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report. There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

That sounded far too believable. I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics. “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us. What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

“So many things, Dad. James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

“I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea. My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

“What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food. My mouth was already watering.

“We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat. I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through. Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield. Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon. Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

“I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

“Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.

“If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you. Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

“You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”

“All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

Iris laughed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

“I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

James shook his head and said, “Not even close.” Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

“The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

“What!? No way!” exclaimed Mike.

Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after. She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake. I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years. I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

I found the idea mind-boggling. James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

“You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end. “You get too distracted. I could handle a village in an hour!” She was soaked, but grinning.

Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

“Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson. This is her mother, Mirabella. From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt. Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

“Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

“Sure.” he conceded.

“Hear that? I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

“Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

“Nah. I do this.” she replied, watching us all. After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

“Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower. Plants can be very good at guiding water. As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants. We have plans and stuff!”

“You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

“I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

“The idea was actually Maxine’s. She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

“You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

“There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

“I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes. Yes, we are.’ Mua ha ha ha ha!” She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

“Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

“Sounds fun.” he agreed.

From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted. She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game. Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table. There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us. James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice. Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table. Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air. James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real. Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him. Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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fromthedeskoftheraven · 4 years

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Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content: Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed, helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note: I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more? Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

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Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed. Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame, and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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neonnoir-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Some Words of Comfort.

Recently, I’ve seen a lot of people (especially those who have read spoilers/are actively searching for leaked content) lament about their future reactions to the deaths of our beloved characters in-game.

We all knew this was inevitable, and that them living was not an option for the plot of the game, but the time has finally come to face it head-on.

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I understand that someone outside this community might be like “it’s just a game”, but I know it’s way more than that to many: the concept of a female villain that, to many, can be seen as sympathizable and even endearing, is a bit of a new concept— especially on such a large scale as this instance.

In addition, Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters have become a bit of a comfort item for some (with an emphasis on sapphics/wlw, from what I’ve seen personally) in the form of a large, protective, and caring hypothetical partner, or even just a maternal character one can appreciate simply because of her love for her children. Regardless, most of us are here due to some desire for comfort.

Take my own story with this community, for example:

(tws for death, covid, suicide, and general medical emergencies)

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Frankly, 2020 and the beginning of 2021 have ruined me. I lost two men who were the only two positive father figures I’ve ever had. The last of the two tested positive for covid and deteriorated within days, to the point where less than a week after testing positive, my family was making the choice to pull the plug. This all occurred days before Christmas and my birthday. On the first day of the spring semester, having not had the time to properly mourn my grandfather, my mother is in the ER for multiple days with an internal infection that doctors said likely would have turned septic if she had waited to come in any longer. This led to three surgeries throughout the next few months. (Oh, and one of my relatives quite literally dropped dead on that first day of class, too). I am also estranged from one of my parents, and they have been trying to contact my family: they have multiple untreated mental illnesses (severe NPD, bipolar, and more) and they are extremely aggressive in that state of mind and they are agitated extremely easily. That only brings more stress, along with resurfacing trauma and related emotions. Every moment of every day has been a struggle. So much so that I failed half of my classes voluntarily simply because I couldn't do them anymore.

To be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t expect to be here right now. I expected that the pain of simply moving forward would have finally overridden my fears of death and that I would have already ended my suffering by now.

Then, in late January, I saw something trending on Twitter. About a new female villain in an upcoming horror game. And it went from there.

As cheesy as it sounds, this fandom and its content seriously saved my life. In the darkest of days, I’ve come to this tag for comfort. The oddest way I found said comfort was through those who were attracted to Alcina aesthetically. I have extremely long-term trauma related to being bullied and being the victim of a hybrid catfishing/'Oreo Game' on early social media by peers in middle school to the point where I do not think of myself as being able to be loved, let alone being worthy of it. Finding this community not only provided a great form of escapism (and opened a door into a fantasy world where I could imagine my own person vampire milf gf), but also gained a little bit of self-esteem (as many of you know, I share a lot of visual qualities with Alcina. -yes, I'm still kinda freaked out about it-) via seeing people where features/attributes like mine were actively praised and desired rather than insulted and pushed away like they have been until now.

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(okay sorry that kinda turned into a trauma dump but I needed to emphasize the fact that this community has seriously helped me during a really dark point in my life, and I know I can't be the only one with that sort of experience)

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What I’m trying to get across here is that, like many others, this community and its content have been comforting and therapeutic, and it really is more than just a game to us. It’s entertaining and even a form of escapism in these extremely trying times. We all have some degree of PTSD from surviving a literal mass plague— and this is something we're using as a method of coping. a distraction. a coping mechanism.

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With that being said, here are some ways to hopefully assist in lessening the emotional stress:

(please note that I am not a mental health professional and these may not be healthy coping mechanisms for everyone.)

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Understand that it’s just a game.

I know, this sounds completely counterintuitive, but it’s more or less about keeping your level of immersion down. Personally, I can’t do scary shit in general: I have to listen to music on low volume while watching dark ARG vids at night or when I’m alone because I get too into it, and then my paranoia kicks in. Sometimes just pausing for a moment and grounding yourself/reminding yourself that this is a video game: a jumble of code and 3D rendering that doesn’t have to affect your views/headcanons if you don’t want it to. Did your favorite character just get slaughtered? Nope, that 3D rendering of them just got un-alived, that’s all.

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Ignorance is Bliss/We are the Captain Now

Simple: Capcom can’t even pronounce Dimitrescu right, or even acknowledge the way it’s correctly said in Romanian culture itself. How can you trust them to give you a perfect canon? That’s the thing: with that logic, you can’t. What they say is true means little (if anything, for that matter) to your headcanons and preexisting ideas of the Dimitrescus. In short: fuck ‘em.

I’m currently seeking a double major in pop culture, and one of the cool things I’ve learned so far is affirmational vs transformational fandom. Affirmational is where official canon is seen as the law of the land, and followed to a T. Transformational is seen as much more inviting for audiences, allowing them to bend canon as they wish to fit their own creations. This fandom is obviously transformational, so take that game canon, rip it up, and get back to whatever you were doing.

Capcom’s canon is not the end-all, be-all. Far from it, actually.

Want to still acknowledge canon? Godmod your way out of it.

Character A died? It’d be a shame if they emerged from the rubble they 'died in' a few hours later, very beaten but alive nonetheless... how awful would it be if they sulked away, nursed their wounds, and continued to live... (/s)

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Ignore it completely.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there w be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the in any way. Stay with the version in your head that makes you happy.

Get Creative!

If you're into creating fanart, writing fics, or even just posting a list of headcanons, take some advice from the late Carrie Fisher: "Take your broken heart, and make it into art". Make the fluff oneshot of your dreams! Draw the fanart you've been wanting to! dump lighthearted headcanons into the tags! Not only will it cheer you up, but sharing it with the community will spread the love!

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I know a lot of people are struggling with this emotionally (especially with the pandemic making entertainment like this even more important sources of escapism and coping mechanisms) and I hope that, at the very least, I was able to help comfort one person who reads this.

Remember: give it time. Once the game drops, there will be a wave of grief, but eventually, we as a community will recover, and get back to business as usual. Think about it like the flowers that bloom after major wildfires: after a period of loss, some beautiful can still come of it.

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💙

#tall vampire lady #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #castle dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #dimitrescu family #dimitrescu sisters #cassandra dimitrescu #countess dimitrescu #house dimitrescu #resident evil #re: village #resident evil village #resident evil: village

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sunny-sings-sooth · 3 years

Text

Daphne

Words: 4.5k

TW: Sexual assault, abuse

Here's my retelling of the myth of Apollo and Daphne! Highly experimental, as I usually write in first person and not so poetically. Hope you enjoy, and if anything doesn't make sense lemme know and I will add some context here. (Also FYI some of the dialogues are pulled directly from Homer's narration)

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Phoebus Apollonas had been alive too long.

He was young by god standards, barely over a millenia old, and still one of the youngest Olympians. And yet he had grown exhausted. He’d been suffering the curse of life long enough to see the boy he used to be -- Phoebus -- die. The demise of the boy began when, in attempt to protect his sister Artemis, he had committed his first murder and thereby lost her forever. The boy decayed further when he’d held the corpses of his sons in his arms. And he’d finally killed the boy with his own hands when he turned his grief-fueled wrath on mortals. Phoebus, the bright, the innocent, the golden prince of Olympus, was dead. All that remained was Apollonas, the destroyer, the terror, the monstrous god of plague.

Except he no longer wished to be Apollonas. Apollonas was addicted to alcohol, drowning himself in it so that he wouldn’t have to face the memories that had murdered Phoebus. Apollonas had struck his younger brother Hermes, the only friend he had left, in drunken rage. Apollonas was despicable and deserved death. He could never be Phoebus again; that he knew and had accepted. But perhaps he could rid himself of Apollonas and become just Apollo. That did not mean erasing Apollonas; he had too many crimes to pay for, and running away would be a dishonor to all those who had suffered at his hands. He would repent for everything he had done as Apollonas, and thereby recreate himself as Apollo.

The first thing he needed to do was to break alcohol’s hold on him, which meant distancing himself from Dionysus. He didn’t want to abandon his youngest brother, but the temptation to drink was too strong in his presence. He hoped Dionysus would understand, and that he would one day be strong enough to bridge the gap of his creation.

He had been clean for three whole days. It didn’t seem like much -- blink of an eye in the lengthy lives of gods -- but that alone had taken him all his willpower. In the absence of the gallons of drink he had been consuming daily, not only was he plagued by memories and sheer self-hatred, he suddenly became highly attuned to the gossip that trailed him. Every moment on Olympus, hundreds of eyes were trained on him, and the whispers never escaped his sharp ears. It wasn’t that he was not used to being the center of attention, but rather the harsh truth of their statements. Phoebus Apollonas is a murderer. He flayed Marsyas alive for daring to challenge him. He curses anyone who questions his authority. He has killed thousands with his plague arrows. He is a monster. He knew these were all true and that he deserved to be pierced by such words, but the anxiousness caused by his withdrawal made them unbearable, and he had to escape to the woods. Here he found solace. Here he could work to slowly put himself together again until he was strong enough to face those who he wronged.

If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, then perhaps he would’ve heard the flap of wings before Eros was standing before him. He nearly dropped the silver bow that he’d been restringing and looked up to meet the other god’s gaze. Eros was the only man Apollonas considered a possible competitor in terms of beauty; his fair skin was smooth as a pearl, his wings the color of one, his features the aspiration of every artist’s portrait. And yet there was something unnerving about the other god. Perhaps it was his hair that, while comparable to a young maiden’s blush, was also the same shade as blood. Perhaps it was the deep red hue of his eyes, made of crushed hearts and rubies. And perhaps it wasn’t his appearance at all, but the mystique that surrounded him; he was the fourth being to come into existence and was old as time itself, and that was one of the only two things Apollonas knew about him.

“Phoebus Apollona,” Eros stated in greeting, and Apollonas hated how wrong it sounded, though he couldn’t tell if it was the names themselves or simply the one who spoke them.

“What do you want?” He couldn’t hide his irritation. The other thing he knew about Eros was that he was the god of love, and love had only ever caused Apollonas pain. He had no reason to like the god nor felt the need to veil his displeasure. All he wanted was the solitude necessary to rework himself.

“I was simply admiring your bow, oh He Who Shoots From Afar.” There was no missing the mockery in Eros’s voice, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the weapon. “Why, your skill is almost comparable to my own! Perhaps with some effort, you can become the greatest archer in the land.”

“Are you implying that you are the greatest archer?” Eros nodded, and one glance at the winged god’s slim arms and the modest bow slung across his back sent Apollonas into a fit of laughter. It was many moments before he could calm himself enough to speak. “What have you to do with the arms of men, you feeble thing?”

“I am merely suggesting I may be god of archery as you are god of plague.” Apollonas’s head snapped up at the idea, and his hands curled into fists as he stood, towering over the shorter god. If Eros was a painter’s fantasy, then Apollonas was a sculptor’s. His toned body was the epitome of perfection, the ideal balance between strength and beauty. He was well aware of this fact, and though he rarely preferred to use his appearance for intimidation purposes, Eros’s insult necessitated such action.

“Do not lay claim to my honors,” he hissed, his sky blue eyes glinting with divine power. Archery was the one constant he could always rely on. With his bow and arrows, he could protect and punish, wound and save. It was the one part of him that stayed no matter if he was Phoebus or Apollonas or whoever, and he’d be damned if he allowed this worthless winged wretch to even suggest taking that from him.

“Let us put it to test, then,” Eros declared, unfazed by the archer’s anger. What would the ancient deity have to fear from the youth? He was well aware of his capability, and little did Apollonas know he was falling into another trap, his emotions and naivety deceiving him once more. He was but a pawn in Eros’s game. “What say you to a battle of skill?”

Apollonas did not grace the other with an answer, lifting his weapon and drawing an arrow from his golden quiver in response. The toned muscles of his back flexed as he pulled back the string and released, and the arrow had barely gone forth an inch before he sent forward another, and then yet another. His arms were but a blur as arrow after arrow went flying, striking the most minuscule of targets: the pupil of a fly’s eye, the thread of a spider’s web, the stem of a single olive. Apollonas did not stop until his quiver lay empty, and he took in the perfect shots before him that seemed almost artistic by his hand. No matter how low he may have descended in these past years, there was no denying the masterpiece he created from the most basic of weapons. This was his domain. He couldn’t keep his lips from curling in conceit as he turned to Eros.

“That gear becomes my shoulders best,” he declared, setting his bow back beside his quiver to draw emphasis to the weapons that had adorned him for centuries. “I wound my enemies; I wound wild beasts. My countless arrows slew the bloated Python, whose vast coils across so many acres spread their blight. You and your loves!” Apollonas couldn’t hold back his scoff at the mention of Eros’s inferior work. “You have your torch to light them. Let that content you. Never claim my fame!”

“Your bow, Phoebus Apollona, may vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you. As every creature yields to power divine, shall your glory yield to mine.” At Eros’s threat, an enraged response was making its way up Apollonas’s throat, but before it could spill off his tongue, the love god drew his own golden-tipped arrow. In the blink of an eye, he shot it forth right into the other god’s heart before taking flight.

Apollonas stumbled back, a gasp more of shock than pain escaping him as he clasped his hands over his chest, fingers fumbling for the arrow. However, it had already dissolved into him, its magic making its home in his body. He felt something ooze into his heart and bloodstream, shoot up his spine, ensnare his mind. He turned his attention inward, trying to identify the invader, but he could not locate it, nor could he compare it to anything he had ever felt before. What had Eros done? He lifted his head, searching for the god, but instead his gaze fell upon another figure altogether.

There, a few feet away, stood the sweet river nymph Daphne. He knew her -- he knew the names of many of the nymphs that resided in these woods -- but beyond a passing glance and a murmured greeting, she had never caught his attention. But now… he couldn’t seem to look away, his lips parting in awe as he stared at her, dumbfounded. Had she always been so breathtaking? How could he have missed such a beauty? Her dark locks flowed down like a waterfall of ink. What it would be to hold that silky hair between his fingers, to braid it and adorn it with flowers and beads! Her eyes were a startling shade of not blue, not green, but something between the two, and he could spend hours drowning in their depths. Her figure had the slightest curve to it, the outline of a river, and he imagined that her body had been crafted to fit against his perfectly. He saw her, loved her, wanted her.

“Daphne.” Apollonas whispered her name, marvelling at the nectar-like flavor that coated his tongue. If just her name was so sweet, then how must her lips taste? Looking was not enough. The urge to find out was unbearable, the earlier argument stolen from his mind entirely as he found himself tossing aside his bow and quiver. What did archery matter when he could master the bow of her lips instead? He would claim it, make it and the rest of her his and his alone. He took a step forth, a giddy smile alighting his features.

“St-stay back,” the nymph stammered, icy fear coiling in the depths of her stomach. She could read his intentions clearly on his face, from the crazed look in his eyes to the wolfish grin he wore to the way his hands reached towards her. Daphne knew all too well what this man planned to do with her, and that should she fall into his grasp, she would not be able to stop him from having his way. So when he took another step forward, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Apollonas gaped only a moment before rushing after her, an arrow released from its bow.

“Daphne, please wait! I am no foe! You don’t need to fear me!” he cried out after her. Daphne did not answer him, her thoughts only on escaping. Thorns and brambles tore at the bare skin of her calves, yet she refused to slow down. “You run as if I am a wolf and you a lamb, but that is not so! It is love that spurs me! Don’t fly so fast, lest you fall and wound yourself!”

“Leave me be, you horrid man!” she shrieked, not stopping even as her dress got caught on the surrounding plants and began to tear, revealing her to him little by little. Apollonas’s brows furrowed in worry at the sight of bloodied cuts on her legs. From within him a voice called out: What are you doing, Apollona? Why are you tormenting this poor girl? Leave her be! You will not have your way with her! But before the voice could say more, he caught a glimpse of the bare skin of her thigh, and everything left his mind. His conscience was once more bound and gagged by Eros’s power, forced to watch it all in horror. Speaking of the god of love, he also watched, flying unnoticed above them, yet he felt only amusement from the sight. The sheer terror that had contorted Daphne’s face and drawn panicked tears from her eyes made him smirk, and Apollonas’s frantic yelling drew out peals of laughter. They had both bent to his will so easily, and he was eager to see how this played out.

“You run because you do not know. I am no peasant, no shepherd!” Apollonas called out to her again. She was only afraid because he didn’t know who he was. He knew the moment she realized his true identity, she would stop and turn to him with a blessed smile. “I am the son of Zeus, prince of Olympus, lord of Delphi. By me things future, past and present are revealed. I shape the harmony of songs and strings. You will be happy as my bride, dear Daphne! I will see that your every wish is granted and that no desire goes unfulfilled. Please stay!”

“No! My only desire is to escape you!” Yet this would not be granted, as her body was beginning to fail her. Try as she might, she could not outrun Apollonas; he was strong from years of training and battle, and though she was swift and sure-footed, she had used up all her limited mortal strength. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs two pits of fire in her chest. And so her traitorous body came to a stop as she gasped for breath, and Apollonas finally had her. He held her hip tightly, freezing her in place. Had he been in his senses and had control over his own body, he’d never have done this, and his conscience screamed within him. But he was deaf to it, the lust coursing through him silencing all else. His eyes soaked in her bare skin when he would’ve shielded them, his hands pulled her closer when he would’ve let her go, and he was ready to claim her when he would’ve done anything but this crime.

“My love.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, pressing his lips against the pale column of her neck. Daphne gasped and tried to pull herself away, but his grip was too strong, utterly unbreakable. How could she escape a god? She was helpless and frail, trapped and alone. There was no one to aid her, no one to stop Apollonas from running his hands down her body and forcing himself against her. And then he was turning her around, wishing to taste her lips, and a final plea escaped her.

“Help me, Peneus!” she screamed for her father. She knew her father could do nothing against an Olympian, but perhaps he could do something to her, and she would accept any escape from this fate. “Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Let me be free of this man from this moment forward!”

Daphne’s prayer was answered, and she was changing.

A stiffness had taken over her body, the swiftness that had protected her for so long sacrificed to escape Apollonas. Her arms lifted of their own accord, her fingers elongating up and her feet rooting into the ground. The dark waterfall split into a hundred streams that lightened to a soft green. Her curved figure fell away as her body thinned into a single arc, her legs fusing and her hands reaching higher and higher. Bark was creeping up from her extremities, down what were now branches and up what had transformed into a trunk. It conquered her shoulders, her chest, her neck. A soft sigh, her last breath, escaped her just as her lips were encased.

Apollonas’s lips met rough bark that cut at his soft skin. With a small gasp, his eyes flew open and he looked straight into Daphne’s piercing eyes. The waves in them had finally calmed, as the storm that had tormented them could no longer ripple its waters. He stared into those beautiful orbs, breathing her name, and watched as they shut forever.

Apollonas couldn’t tear his gaze away, his mind still unable to process the transformation that had unfolded before him. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing flat against the trunk of the tree. A steady pulse graced his fingertips -- a heartbeat. Daphne’s heartbeat. She was this tree, this sorrowful laurel tree, lost from him forever. His legs gave out beneath him as he wept, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against her bark. And yet the lust hadn’t left him, and he was kissing the wood over and over, whispering her name and an endless string of apologies as the skin of his lips tore and blood dripped down his chin.

“Oh, Daphne. My Daphne,” he cried, yearning what could’ve been. He thought the image of her smiling sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and calling him ‘husband’, was a vision, a prophecy promising that he could be the source of her happiness until the end of time. But he was wrong. It had been a fantasy, a dream that had slipped out of his grasp. And now she was gone. His sobs doubled in intensity as grief wracked him, and he didn’t notice Eros approaching until he spoke.

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight?” the god of love asked, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Phoebus Apollonas, broken and filthy inside and out. A slave to his desires. Do you accept defeat, oh lustful one?”

Apollonas turned to the other god, and the grief in him sharpened to rage. His beautiful Daphne, the love of his life, had been stolen from him, snatched right out of his hands, and the cause of it all was simply standing there, taking amusement in his loss. He reached for his bow only to find it missing, and so he lunged forth and tackled Eros to the ground, wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s thin neck.

“You monster,” Apollonas growled, his sky blue eyes glowing with divine power. This horrid creature had taken his Daphne from him and deserved nothing less than death. Apollonas would deliver him to the gates of Tartarus himself if necessary. The man must pay for his crimes. He increased the pressure, causing the other god to choke under his iron grip. “You did this!”

“Oh no, Apollona. I merely gave you a nudge. The rest was all you,” Eros gasped out, managing to laugh even as his windpipe threatened to collapse altogether. The sun god’s brows furrowed at the statement, and Eros subtly waved his hand, calming the effects of his magic. “And who knows what you’ll do next if I keep nudging you forth? You’ll be giving your father quite the competition, won’t you?”

The spell finally broke, and Apollonas’s grip slackened as the lust drained out of him and the truth became clear. He had chased Daphne. He had chased Daphne with the intention to force himself on her. He had tried to kiss her and claim her as his own with no care for her terror. He pushed her so far that she thought it better to lose her humanity than to be his. Oh Fates, what had he done? You are the most wicked person to live, Phoebus Apollona. You are no better than your father. You did this to that poor girl. You ruined her.

“N-no,” he whispered, backing away from Eros and clamping his hands over his ears, but it was in vain. The voice came not from outside but from within, where his conscience was finally free to reclaim its owner. And so Apollonas relived the incident that had just taken place. He saw himself chase after her just as Python had chased him and his family, heard his plans to ruin her just as he believed Orion had intended with Artemis, felt himself force himself upon her just as Zeus did to his mother Leto. Never in his life had something been so achingly clear to him as this truth: while he had spent his whole life painting others as wicked, he had been the most terrible monster all along. Apollonas doubled over, spilling his insides onto the earth as though he could purge the maliciousness from his body. But alas, he could not; he was born the destroyer, and he had truly lived up to his name. He could not tell if his scream remained in his soul or ripped out of him. He didn’t know if it was tears or fire spilling from his eyes. All he knew was the terrible truth that he has been blind to all his life.

“You are weak, boy. But I can make you strong,” Eros declared, towering over the hysterical god. He wondered how Olympus would react to seeing their golden heir broken on the ground, sobbing like a spoiled child. He could only imagine they’d be just as entertained as he. Still, the time for games was over. Making sure to avoid the pool of vomit, he crouched down and placed a thin finger under Apollonas’s chin, forcing the young god to meet his gaze. “Here is my offer to you: vow to me on the river Styx that you will follow my every command, and I will save you from further humiliation and heartbreak.”

“What, so I can spend my life blind and deaf, a mindless slave to a heartless man?” A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of Apollonas’s lips. He had seen and tasted truth, and he would not give that up to become Eros’s puppet. He scowled and spat at the love god’s feet, glaring into those blood-red eyes. “That is what I think of your offer.”

“I expected the god of intellect to be wiser than this, but I now see the difference between you and Athena.” Eros sneered, wrinkling his nose at the sorry display. “Do not be hasty, godling, and ponder my words carefully. I am offering you invulnerability. I will harden your heart to stone so that none may hurt you. Without your greatest weakness, you will be unstoppable. You will never have to feel such pain again.”

Apollonas paused for a moment, considering Eros’s claim. To never feel this soul-tearing agony again? To be free of the organ that rebelled against his mind at every moment? Now that he contemplated it, the offer was quite tempting. Without his heart, he would only have to rely on his body and mind, both of which were immaculate. He would indeed be unstoppable, finally the golden heir of Olympus he was expected to be. And yet… his gaze moved to the laurel tree, and a single leaf drifted down before him. Apollonas caught it in the palm of his hand, carefully tracing its pale green veins. If he were to remove his heart, to lose his ability to feel, would that not be a dishonor to Daphne? After all he had put her through, did she not deserve to be mourned and remembered? And what about all the others, every mortal that had suffered at his hand? He would be spitting on their graves by choosing to run away from the pain that, in the face of what torment they had lived through, was nothing. And so Apollonas rose to his feet, stretching to full height and then kneeling down so that his face was merely inches from the love god’s. “Rot. In. Tartarus.”

“You really should have chosen the easy path,” Eros muttered, the smirk sliding off his face as he grit his teeth. Apollonas wanted to regret? Then he’d give him reason to regret. His hands flew to Apollonas’s temples, freezing the younger god in place. Eros’s eyes glowed, twin pits of lava, and his voice boomed as he invoked his ancient power. “I curse you, Phoebus Apollona. May love be your enemy and your heart a traitor. May you be powerless to control the whims of your desire, and may you be the cause of pain to those you love, over and over until the end of time itself.”

Apollonas fell to the ground once more, struggling as the curse rooted itself deep in his soul, at the very essence of his being. By the time his throat had grown too raw for him to continue screaming, Eros had already flown away, leaving behind nothing but punishment. He found himself crawling back to the laurel tree, to Daphne, leaning his forehead against her trunk as he wept. He wept for her, for those before her, and for those after her.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, holding on so tightly the bark dug into his skin and realizing how powerless he really was. “I’d change you back if I could, sweet nymph, but I cannot. Instead, I swear by the river Styx, I won’t let you be forgotten. I bless you so that your leaves are never shed and instead will be woven in wreaths that will become a symbol of honor, the very thing I tried to steal from you. Let mankind see me to be the monster I am if that means your memory will live on. And even if your name no longer forms on the lips of men, they will live on eternally upon my own. This I vow to you.”

With this, he lay one last touch upon the tree before turning away, trudging his leaden feet back to Olympus. He heard the whispers as he arrived in the city, but he paid them no mind and made way to his house. Barely moments after he entered, his fingers scurried over the wall until they found the loose brick that he yanked out and tossed aside. His hands trembled in a moment of hesitation before reaching in. He grasped the bottle of his poison, his secret, his solace. Apollonas lifted it to his lips, tears running down his face, and drank his worries away.

#Apollo #apollon #apollo deity #greek mythology #greek gods #greek myth #daphne

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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𝑆/𝑂 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝐴 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐴 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warning: Certain NSFW scenarios are contained within this reaction. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

During a little chat with Hongjoong about your deepest secret fantasies, you were hesitant to tell him that you wanted a girl to join you two. You thought he'd look at you weird or immediately say no. He pried it out of you though, and his silence made you think you were right. But then he got a little smirk on his face.

"My oh my, you really are a dirty little slut." He teased you.

You huffed and crossed your arms. Hongjoong only chuckled and grabbed your hand.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked as he pulled you up.

"You'll see." He answered with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

The last place you expected him to take you was a bar. You were confused as to why he'd take you here.

"You wanted someone to join us right? Well.... look around baby and take your pick."

You flushed at his words, not expecting him to take this seriously. Still he encouraged you to at least look around. At first, you pretended to scan the very attractive women in the place, wanting to just say no one caught your attention and leave it at that. But when your eyes landed on a particular girl, you couldn't look away. She was just so mesmerizing and stunning and you found yourself imagining her pinning you down and just ruining you. Hongjoong noticed how your thighs started clenching against each other and he knew you had made your choice.

"Come on baby. We got work to do."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa never hid the fact that he was possessive of you, he made it very obvious. And so it came to no surprise to you when he said he wouldn't allow anyone else to join you two.

"Why would you even want that? Am I not enough for you? Do I not satisfy your needs?"

Seonghwa boiled with jealousy and anger at the thought of anyone touching you in a way only he could. So of course he was fuming when a certain girl came up to you while you two were out on a date.

"Are you here by yourself cutie?" The girl asked you, gently touching the top of your hand.

Seonghwa could tell the girl was affecting you too much for his liking.

Setting his drink down in front of her, he responded.

"No. They're with me actually."

One look at him and the girl could tell he was a hardcore Dom. But that was ok because she was one too and she certainly loved a challenge. The girl looked back at you and fake sighed.

"Such a pity. I bet I could make you feel better than what he can beautiful."

You looked over to Seonghwa, expecting him to be angry. But instead, he got an amused smile plastered on his face.

"You really think so? Why don't you try and prove it?"

You widened your eyes at his words. Was he being serious? Seonghwa looked over at you and smiled.

"What do you say baby?"

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You didn't actually tell Yunho himself about the fantasy you often had. He accidentally overheard you while you were on a phone call with your friend. He was surprised to find out this information, but he wasn't angry.

"So that's what my baby is into."

It actually turned Yunho a little on to think about watching someone else completely wreck you. So he decided to make a little surprise for you. He usually always prepared something special for your anniversary, and this year was no different.

Yunho gently sucked on your neck, his large hands grasping your ass cheeks as he grinded his clothed bulge against your core. You let out a whimper when he pulled you off him and set you down on the bed.

"Yunho..." You whined at him, pouting that he left you hot and bothered.

Yunho smiled and gently caressed your cheek.

"Don't worry baby. I'll make sure you're taken care of. Trust me."

He tenderly kissed your lips before getting up and going over to the door. He opened it and gestured for someone to come in. Your eyes went wide when in walked in a very gorgeous looking girl, dressed in black lace lingerie with thigh high stockings and garter belt. She smirked and walked over to you. You looked over at Yunho, silently asking if this was ok.

"It's ok baby. Don't worry about me, I'm going to enjoy this just as much as you are."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

When you brought up the idea to Yeosang, he wasn't really sure. He actually felt a little insecure at your suggestion.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Yeosang asked, genuinely concerned that he wasn't satisfying your needs.

"No Yeosang, you're not doing anything wrong." You assured him.

"Then why are you suggesting this?"

"It's just you know.... to try something new." You tried explaining.

Yeosang sat there quietly, pondering over your words. He was too shy to try something like this. He wants to make you happy, but he sees physical intimacy as something being just the two of you. He'd get too awkward and flustered if someone else joined you, no matter who it was.

"Can't you choose something else besides that?" Yeosang asked quietly.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"I know! Let's make a deal! I'll let you tie me up." Yeosang offered.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shook your head.

Yeosang thought for a moment, before an idea finally popped in his head. He'd probably regret it, but he'd rather agree to this than the other option.

".......I'll let you peg me." He blurted out.

You almost choked on your water when he said that.

"Yeosang......are you into that?"

You questioned him, making him get a red shade around his cheeks which answered your question, making you smirk at him.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

Honestly, San had probably thought about it long before you even did. So when you brought it up, he was more than happy to oblige you with your desires.

That's how you ended up tangled up between two bodies: one belonging to your adoring boyfriend and the other to one of your neighbors, a cute girl that you often said was attractive, whom you soon found out had a very kinky and naughty side to her, exactly what you two needed for this moment to happen.

You moaned into the girl's mouth as she kissed you hungrily while San's hands were busy caressing your body, groping you in your sensitive places. His fingers skillfully rid you of your clothes and tossed them somewhere in the room.

"Darling, let's not be selfish. After all, she's doing us a favor by joining us."

San then leaned down, pulling you away from the girl and looking you straight in the eye.

"So why don't you be a good girl/boy and eat her out like the good slut you are?"

You knew that wasn't a request, it was a command, that you were not complaining about. Your face was buried in between the girl's legs, so engrossed in your task of pleasuring her that you didn't notice San had taken his clothes off. You only felt him push himself into you from behind, making you moan against the girl's clit.

"Fuck, you look so hot baby."

He might just make this a regular occurrence.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

When you told Mingi you planned something special for tonight, he most definitely didn't think it'd be this. Never in his wildest dreams did he think this would happen, but it did and he was seriously turned on by it.

He groaned as he watched you make out with the girl in front of you, his hand stroking his cock gently. The image of you dominating this girl would forever be engraved on his mind. You stared at him and smiled.

"Don't worry baby boy. I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Turning your attention to the girl, you cupped her cheeks and guided you to your boyfriend, who was patiently waiting for your orders.

"He's been such a good boy for us, don't you think? He deserves a reward."

Getting your hint, the girl licked her lips before taking Mingi's length in her hands, replacing his. Mingi stiffened considerably when her mouth began sucking him, trying hard not to make any sound. Noticing this, you made him look at you.

"Baby boy, it's ok. Let us take care of you. Just relax and enjoy."

Mingi finally let out a groan, loving the way this girl was sucking him off. As if this couldn't get any better, he was astonished when he saw you come up behind the girl, a vibrator on in your hand.

"The fun is only getting started."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Things definitely got way too wild at the party. Wooyoung and you weren't completely wasted, but you were definitely a little bit more than tipsy. That didn't matter though. You both ended up scurrying off to one of the many rooms in the house, looking for an empty one.

Upon finding one, your bodies instantly connected. His lips were kissing you hungrily, his hands were desperate to rid you both of your clothes which were bothersome by now. He just wanted to be inside you at this point. He managed to get your shirt off and you were in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it halfway down, when you were both startled by the sound of the door opening.

"Wooyoung! Y/N! I'm so sorry!" It was one of your closest female friends, who was searching for a bathroom and accidentally stumbled upon you two.

It might have been the alcohol making you both bold, but you and Wooyoung looked at each other and as if reading each other's minds, you both turned to your friend and smirked. Wooyoung got up and walked towards your friend, closing the door behind her and locking it. She looked at you both in astonishment.

"What-what are you two up to?" She asked, but deep down she knew what you two were planning and she wasn't exactly about to refuse.

"Don't go yet. Why don't you join us?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

"All right Y/N. Your turn! Truth or dare!" Wooyoung asked.

It had become almost tradition by now: every time you hung out with your boyfriend and his friends and there was alcohol involved, it always ended in the juvenile game of truth or dare.

"I pick truth." You answered, not wanting to fall victim to one of Wooyoung's embarrassing dares like Mingi or Yeosang usually fell into.

"Wow....you're no fun." Wooyoung huffed.

"I got a good question! What's the darkest, dirtiest sexual fantasy you've had that you've never even told Jongho?" San actually looked a little too enthusiastic about your answer.

You looked at your boyfriend and blushed severely. He gently took your hand and smiled, whispering to you that it was ok whether you said it or not. Taking a deep breath, you confessed:

"I've.....always, maybe, sort of wanted a threesome...." You started.

"I volunteer as a tribute!" San raised his hand, earning a glare from the maknae and a smack to the head by Hongjoong.

"....with a girl..." You finished.

Everyone stared at you with wide eyes, the 99 liners screaming out of shock, Seonghwa and Hongjoong just chuckling amongst themselves. Your boyfriend, however, just looked at you with curiosity. This was definitely news to him. You two weren't that experienced in the sex field, you were still figuring out what you two liked and didn't like. So while this made him a little self conscious.....

It wasn't a definite no.

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez imagines #ateez smut

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arizariia · 3 years

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Clerith And Vincrecia

My third eye has opened and now I'm enlightened.

I just realized just how similar Vincrecia and Clerith are in FFVII. I even want to be so bold as to claim that this parallel is going to be story important in Remake.

The first similarity about these ships is the similarities between Cloud and Vincent. Cloud is an "ex-member of SOLDIER". He was impaled by Sephiroth. He survived but was unfortunately found by Hojo. He was then subjected to Hojo's experiments. Vincent is an ex-Turk. He was shot by Hojo during an argument. He died, experimented on by Hojo, and was then resurrected by Lucrecia.

In terms of personality, Cloud and Vincent do share similar traits as well. Cloud made a persona where he's overconfident, arrogant, and headstrong. He also became emotionally withdrawn from others. His most memorable line is, "Not interested" and the man originally didn't care about saving the planet. The truth is he's socially awkward. He is bad at expressing himself and displays poor communicative skills. The people that Cloud is closest to recognize this. They know he's a soft, caring person.

Vincent is a cold man whose life has been severely devastated by Hojo. At one point in time, even Cloud thought that Vincent didn't care about the planet. He's a natural loner and doesn't speak much about his past at all. Even though he has a cold exterior he is a kind-hearted person.

The following part is how alike Aerith and Lucrecia are. In terms of physical appearance, the two women are remarkably similar. Both have pale skin, brunette hair, and have similar mannerisms. What's extremely interesting are their hairstyles. Aerith and Sephiroth were initially siblings. They were given similar bangs as a result of this. Even after the story was altered and the two were no longer siblings, their hair didn't change. Lucrecia initially didn't have the "Sephiroth bangs" but when it came time for her to appear in Dirge of Cerberus, she gained them. Hence, Lucrecia looks like Aerith because they both were designed to somewhat resemble Sephiroth.

Personality-wise, Aerith is a lively person. She is compassionate, stubborn, and can even be smug at some points. She has even flirted with Cloud on many occasions. The most significant thing about her is her desire to want to her own decisions and defy fate. She wants to stop Shinra and Sephiroth from causing further harm to the planet.

Lucrecia, on the other hand, is also a kind person who was known to tease. She was also seemly fond of nature and even enjoyed a picnic with Vincent. Her primary goal as a scientist was to further her research on the study of Chaos and Omega. This was to find a way to prevent Omega from ending the world.

So how similar is the ship dynamic? Let's start with Clerith. Clerith doesn't begin until Cloud falls into Aerith's church in the Sector 5 slums. After Reno enters the building, Aerith asks Cloud to be her bodyguard. Their relationship hinges on this. Cloud is her bodyguard throughout the entire story of FFVII after this. He makes sure she gets home safely in chapter 5. He crossdresses so Aerith doesn't have to enter Don Corneo's mansion by herself in chapter 9. Cloud even sneaks into Shinra HQ to rescue her with the help of Tifa and Barret. This just from the beginning of the story. At this point, Cloud has, surprisingly, only known Aerith for around two days.

With Vincrecia, Vincent was assigned to be Lucrecia's bodyguard from the very beginning. He was tasked with making sure she was protected and being mindful of her wellbeing. When Hojo was neglecting Lucrecia, Vincent was the one to call him out on his behavior. When Vincent died, Lucrecia was the one who wanted to resurrect him. Even though Lucrecia placed an enormous burden on him, she was more concerned with him being alive again.

Now, it's time to discuss imagery. Since we have only seen Lucrecia in Dirge of Cerberus, there isn't much to work with. However, what is present is fascinating. The first piece of significant visual similarities is when Lucrecia wakes up Vincent after she discovered him sleeping outside. This can be compared to when Aerith wakes up Cloud after he falls into her church. Something to mention is that both men are sleeping around flowers.

The following thing is something that I mentioned previously. Lucrecia and Aerith have similar body language. They both tend to lean forwards with their hands behind their backs.

After that, we have when Cloud looks at Aerith when she's at the Forgotten City and when Vincent looks at Lucrecia in her crystal.

Here we have Aerith reaching out to Cloud just like when Lucrecia reaches out to Vincent.

So how does this relate to what I mentioned before? That I believe these elements are vital to FFVII Remake? Well, the story of Lucrecia and Vincent is a tragedy. Even though they loved each other, Lucrecia's guilt and Vincent's reluctance to admit his feelings are what drove the two apart. Their story was a love that could never be. But hold on a moment. That's how Cloud and Aerith's story is in the original game. Even though Cloud genuinely loved Aerith and her death shattered him, he never confessed his feelings for her. In Remake Aerith explicitly states in Cloud's resolution scene that he can't fall in love with her. She knows she will die if fate isn't defeated.

Aerith hints from the very beginning that she either has already lived through the initial events of FFVII, or she simply has knowledge of what is supposed to happen. When she first meets Cloud, she gives him a flower. She says, "Lovers used to give these when they were reunited."

When they reunite in the church, she says, "Bodyguard work's not too different from merc stuff right?", even though Cloud never told her his profession.

You can argue that the reason why chapter 5 includes additional substance compared to the original game is that Aerith wants to spend more time with Cloud. Cloud didn't gather flowers and perform odd jobs around Sector 5 until Aerith made the suggestion. I'd argue that Aerith put a bunch of junk on the second floor of her house to make it harder for Cloud to sneak out. Aerith also hints she knows that Don Coreno wasn't joking about dropping the Sector 7 plate.

When the cast defies fate and defeats the whisper harbinger, this leads to a new timeline being created. I believe that this means that Aerith dying can either be avoided or that event may not happen at all. After all, after Aerith died Cloud never truly moved on. Even in spinoff titles, Cloud is Aerith-focused.

In Kingdom Hearts, Cloud becomes more like Vincent. He grieves for Aerith just like how Vincent grieved for Lucrecia.

In Final Fantasy Tactics, Cloud is searching for Aerith. When he sees a flower girl that looks like Aerith, it furthers his resolve. In World of Final Fantasy, Terra calls out Cloud for hunting down Sephiroth instead of helping Lightning. This conversation speaks volumes.

Even at the end of the original game, Cloud says "I think I'm beginning to understand. An answer from the planet... the Promised Land. I think I can meet her... there." The 2015 trailer for Remake talks about the reunion and we see Aerith's flower. When do we hear about any reunion in Remake? When Cloud and Aerith meet for the first time in Sector 8 and she gives him the flower.

Cloud is going to defy fate and save Aerith's life. At least that's what I think. I think that the song Hollow supports this claim. I believe that Hollow is a Clerith song. It was said by Uematasu that the song describes Cloud's inner feelings. Not only does it play in the Sector 5 slums, Aerith's home, but the lyrics describe her as well.

Smile bright Once more This time I will never let you go

Need I say more? This is my conclusion. If the whole point of Remake is to defy fate then preventing this tragic loss is possible as well. The story is about not repeating the same mistakes as the previous generation to make way for a brighter future.

And before anyone says that Aerith only likes Cloud because he’s like Zack, here’s what she says after she’s done talking about Zack.

And Cloud’s response to Aerith telling him not to fall in love with her.

I’m placing my bets now. Let’s see how right or wrong I am in a few years. If I’m wrong I will eat a bowl of peas.

#final fantasy vii #ffvii #clerith #vincrecia #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #lucrecia crescent #vincent valentine

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hanseosvincenzo · 3 years

Note

hanseo/vincenzo first kiss?

i'll put it under a cut here, but if you'd rather read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31693313

requests are still open!

The ice of a hockey rink is tumultuous to Han-Seo. He loves hockey and playing is something of a catharsis to him, but his brother’s enjoyment of the game often comes to bite him in the face as a result. He comes here to escape the weight of all that’s going on, and when Han-Seok doesn’t decide to crash the party, it’s exactly what he needs.

Tonight is no different. Han-Seo is the only one on the ice, standing amidst a scattering of hockey pucks and exhaling steam. The thick padding of his uniform keeps him warm and births within him a desire to play endlessly, until he can’t function the next day, but he knows that he can’t take it that far. He’s currently living a double life, and even with Han-Seok sitting in a jail cell at the moment, he can never be too careful. Besides, he’s in charge of things until the man is freed anyway, and for that reason, he has to watch his back for attacks from virtually all angles. At this point, he’s not so sure he even trusts Seung-Hyuk.

But enough overthinking. Han-Seo takes control of one of the many pucks and skates toward the goal, guiding it around the net before he practices a well-aimed slapshot right into the netting. It’s more fun when you have a goalie to compete against, but Han-Seo lives a bit of a lonely life. There aren’t many people he could convince to come out here and play with him, especially considering he’s probably better than all of them.

Han-Seo smiles to himself as he recalls that he’s better than Vincenzo at hockey. It’s on this rink that he learned how naturally competitive the man is. Vincenzo is incredible at just about everything, but he’s still a bit awkward on the ice and has a long way to go. Han-Seo likes dragging out that competitive nature, even if Vincenzo’s lack of expertise winds up getting him upset in the end. They almost always come out of it in good spirits, though.

Yeah…Han-Seo likes playing hockey with Vincenzo.

He seizes another puck and picks up speed, circling around the rink. In his head, he’s playing the forward, scanning his way through fantasy traffic in search of the best lane to fire from. The goalie slides from side to side, crouched low as he anticipates the shot. Han-Seo mentally passes the puck to another person in his formation, and they pass it back, before he shoots, scores! The horn blazes in his mind and he raises both hands in the air, hockey stick almost like a trophy in his pretend hockey game.

“That must be incredibly boring by yourself.”

For a moment, Han-Seo freezes on the spot out of instinct. He’s fully aware of the fact that Han-Seok is locked up right now, and that voice isn’t his brother’s, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction to tense, pivot, and greet him a la ‘hyungnim, I didn’t see you there’. He knows that voice is Vincenzo’s, but his blood still freezes in his veins regardless.

It isn’t until he lays eyes on Vincenzo that he relaxes. Vincenzo steps out from the gate and glides onto the ice. He’s getting much better at balancing, as he slides smoothly into the center of the court. His expression is as no-nonsense as ever, though.

“Hey, hyung,” Han-Seo greets, smiling broadly at Vincenzo from his spot a few feet away from the goal netting. “I thought you were busy today.” Frankly, Vincenzo is always busy with Jipuragi. Fighting the construction of the Babel Tower is more than just a full-time job, but he almost always seems to be preoccupied with a handful of other things. Geumga Plaza in general seems to be a bustling place that requires a lot of attention. Han-Seo has yet to meet most of the residents, but he’s heard Mr. Nam and Ms. Hong chattering about them quite often.

“Actually…” Vincenzo skates a wide circle around the grouping of pucks on the ice as he speaks, his tone thoughtful and perhaps just the slightest bit irritable. “I got kicked out of the office. Ms. Hong was singing something to the tune of ‘I need to come up with gift ideas for Mr. Lee and Mrs. Jang’s baby and you’re about as helpful as a how-to book run twice through a washing machine’.” He turns his gaze up to Han-Seo. “Just to clarify, I’m not bad at gifts.”

“You’re pretty thoughtful,” Han-Seo agrees as he skates backwards for a few seconds. “But it doesn’t sound to me like Ms. Hong actually thinks you’re bad at gifts. She’s probably competing against you without you realizing it.”

Vincenzo’s brow furrows at that thought, before he turns wide eyes over at Han-Seo. “…That makes sense, actually. She probably wants credit for the best gift or something. I’ll have to make sure I get something worlds better than what she decides on.”

Han-Seo laughs out loud there. “You’ve got the money for it, hyung. So…you came out here to spend your doghouse time with me?”

“Doghouse?” Vincenzo frowns again.

“Yeah,” Han-Seo replies, taking another puck and guiding it around the ice some. “Like when one partner in a relationship kicks the other out for doing something that upsets them.”

“But I didn’t—”

“—it’s essentially the same.”

“But we’re not in a relationship.” Vincenzo seems adamant about that, skating about lazily as he tries to keep up conversation.

Han-Seo fires a shot and lands another puck in the goal netting. “What…really? Have you just not worked up the courage to take the next step or something?”

Vincenzo stops skating and frowns at Han-Seo. “It’s just not like that. Ms. Hong and I are very close, but we’re not…”

Han-Seo stops skating there, too, blinking in genuine confusion. From this angle, it’s starting to look like Vincenzo is getting flustered. Could it be that he’s still trying to work out those feelings? Or maybe there’s another, much more personal reason he doesn’t see her that way. “That’s okay, hyung. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He smiles there. “Let’s just play some hockey, okay?”

Vincenzo breathes a visible sigh of relief there. “That sounds good. But let’s play together this time—can we practice passing?”

Han-Seo ponders that for a moment, before he shrugs and takes control of one of the many pucks on the ice. He skates a short distance away, aims, and passes it to Vincenzo, who slips into action and captures it.

They play in silence for several long moments. Frankly, Han-Seo isn’t sure how much time has passed as the two shoot the puck back and forth between one another from different spots around the ice. Vincenzo is actually really good at passing, so he probably didn’t need all the extra practice. Chances are, he just didn’t feel like getting competitive today. In his defense, Han-Seo doesn’t lose in a game of hockey unless it’s against his brother.

After the pucks are scattered all over the ice from at least an hour’s play, Han-Seo skates back to neutral ice, letting the end of his stick rest against the surface as he comes to a stop. He’s getting tired, so it’s probably about time for him to head back home.

“Do you think Ms. Hong is ready for you to come back yet?” He questions as Vincenzo stops alongside him. They’re both staring at the goal from their spots next to one another.

Vincenzo tugs one of his gloves from his hand and digs into his pocket, withdrawing his phone from it. He stares at the screen for a moment, before he tucks it back into his pocket. “She hasn’t called me to give me the all-clear yet.”

“Hmm…she must be really determined,” Han-Seo thinks aloud, his attention falling to the ice, and then turning to look up at Vincenzo. “Why don’t we grab something to eat while you wait?”

Vincenzo seems to contemplate that question, before he shrugs his shoulders. “I could eat. Let’s go.”

Han-Seo turns to start back toward the seating area, but Vincenzo stops him short before he can get too far with a grip of his now ungloved hand on the sleeve of Han-Seo’s uniform. When Han-Seo turns to face him, he’s doing that thing he does with the corner of his mouth when he’s lost in thought.

“I think you’d be jealous if Ms. Hong and I were a couple.”

That statement is so blunt and jarring and out of nowhere that it leaves Han-Seo outright gawking up at Vincenzo. The man is always confident with his own thoughts on things, so it shouldn’t come to Han-Seo as a surprise, but here he is, staring up at Vincenzo like he’d just sprouted a second set of ears on his forehead.

“Wh…Excuse me?”

The answer is yes. Absolutely, one hundred percent yes, but that’s something Han-Seo has been making a point to keep to himself long before he decided to help Jipuragi in the fight against his brother. It only makes things messier, and none of them have time for—

Let me clarify,” Vincenzo tries, releasing Han-Seo’s hand. He skates a few inches closer. “I wouldn’t be upset if you told me that I was correct.”

Han-Seo’s ears are burning with embarrassment at this point, and he’s catching himself in the act of doing that thing he does when he’s nervous—the thing where he can’t seem to bring himself to look up from the ground or really anything that isn’t the face of the person he’s supposed to be talking to.

“H…Hyung, you’ve said it yourself—I’m not that smart, so you’re going to have to—”

Vincenzo scoffs, though there doesn’t seem to be any real bite to the sound. He’s not trying to insult Han-Seo, and that alone relaxes the man somewhat. He stops a foot or so in front of the younger man and stares down at him. “You seem to think I’m good at everything, Han-Seo, and I’m not going to deny I’ve got a pretty wide skill set. But there are two things that you yourself have shown me I’m not good at.” He raises his hand. “The first? Hockey. I could probably get much better at it and you’d still hand my head to me on a silver platter.”

Han-Seo can’t stifle the giggle that escapes him at those words. “I am pretty good at it, huh?”

Vincenzo looks momentarily unimpressed, before he speaks up again. “And number two: people. Jang Joon-Woo is actually Jang Han-Seok and it took me an uncomfortable amount of time to draw that conclusion. Ms. Hong initially comes off as catty and pretentious but is actually a very dedicated, quirky young woman with a loyalty that I can’t even begin to understand. I currently live in a plaza filled to the brim with people I should consider tedious and annoying, but I actually quite enjoy their company and have relied on them for a great deal of help. And as of late, you.”

Han-Seo swallows down butterflies. He’s been doing so for a long time now, so he should be good at it. But here he is, struggling like his body’s trying to throw up and he can’t let it. His crush on Vincenzo had started a long time ago, birthed initially from the small ways Vincenzo and the rest of Jipuragi managed to get back at Han-Seok and Babel, and then suddenly growing into something so much bigger when he saw how far Vincenzo was willing to go. It had been the pig’s blood that had done it for him. Vincenzo wasn’t your shining example of a good person simply willing to fight the good fight for moral reasons. He was evil, not unlike Han-Seok, but he was evil fighting evil for the sake of taking it down.

Han-Seo always has and still does believe that Vincenzo is the single coolest human being he’s ever met, and he’s been toying with the strength of his growing feelings for the man for quite some time now. He knows that Vincenzo isn’t a man you form a relationship with, but the person inside him who has never quite gotten the chance to be young and think about trivial things like love and happiness aches for just a taste of what Vincenzo could give him.

So he can’t help the way his hopes are up right now. He stares up at Vincenzo, waiting for him to continue speaking.

“You’re right, you know,” Vincenzo starts, shrugging his shoulders matter-of-factly. “You’re not incredibly smart. But you’re determined. You’re always going on and on about how much you’re studying so that I’ll trust you to take over for Jang Han-Seok once he’s gone. You keep me on the edge of my seat, because I’m just waiting for you to decide to be chairman instead of helping me…but you never do. You refuse to leave my side. You’ve made me question so much in the past handful of weeks that I’m having difficulty figuring out how to handle it.” The tiniest smile forms on Vincenzo’s lips there. “On top of that, you’ve got a surprisingly playful side.”

Han-Seo immediately takes that as a huge compliment. Vincenzo has been through the wringer ever since he came here. From Myung-Hee taking out someone Han-Seo later learned Vincenzo had considered a father figure to Han-Seok’s cruel murder of his mother and all the horrible things in between, he has had a lot on his plate to worry about. And somehow, amidst that busy, anxiety-ridden schedule, he’s made time to have Han-Seo on his mind.

“I’m not good at this,” Vincenzo continues as he tosses his hockey stick aside and slips off his other glove, letting it drop to the ice. “When it comes to my own feelings, I’ve spent a lot of time making sure they never had to make it to the equation—it’s protected me many times in my past.” Han-Seo can imagine he’s right about that. Being in the Mafia probably relies heavily on keeping your thoughts grounded and practical. “But right now, I want to be selfish and tell you that I know you’d be jealous of Ms. Hong if she and I were together, because you’d want me to want you instead.”

Han-Seo’s gaze drops down again, and he realizes it’s impossible for him to make eye contact right now. His conditioned reaction is to start apologizing and tell Vincenzo he won’t let that get in the way of their plans thus far. No matter how much this man is waxing poetic, Han-Seo can’t believe his ears.

There’s just no way Vincenzo Cassano is telling him all of this.

But he does, anyway.

“And here’s the kicker: I do want you.”

And like that, Han-Seo’s gawking up at Vincenzo once more. His own hockey stick drops from his gloved hands, his fingers limp behind the thick material. His shoulders are slumped, and he’s just plain staring.His mouth hangs open. He probably looks ridiculous.

Vincenzo scoffs and shakes his head. “Don’t look up at me like a goldfish. I mean it, okay? You know what—let me show you.”

Han-Seo has very rarely seen Vincenzo break composure. It seems like everything the man does is with poise and tact, and he thinks about every step he’s going to take at least three steps in advance. This, however, cannotbe thought out.

Despite that, Vincenzo’s movements are smooth as he sweeps in close, places his thumb and forefinger underneath Han-Seo’s chin, and tips his head up so that he can capture those open lips in his own.

It’s such a strange feeling—the chill of the ice surrounding them has cooled the skin of Vincenzo’s nose, and it almost tickles as it presses against Han-Seo’s cheek. His hand is cold, but also comforting enough that it feels warm in its own way. And those lips are so incredibly soft against Han-Seo’s that he genuinely doesn’t know how to react.

It’s as he’s trying to find a place to put his hands that Vincenzo breaks off the kiss and stares pointedly down at him. “You don’t have to keep trying to impress me, because I’m already impressed. You mind your manners when I ask you to, and yet, you’re not uptight. I like that a lot about you. You’re…relaxing to be around.”

“It’s strange. You curse at me, and it’s fine. We play hockey, and I feel at ease. And it just feels like I’m drinking with a friend. That’s how I feel.”

Han-Seo almost feels like he’s hearing the same statement from Vincenzo that he’d made to him. The same realization. It’s mutual. Shit, it’s mutual.

It’s also in this moment that Han-Seo realizes just how not-used to situations like this Vincenzo is. Once he sees the realization on Han-Seo’s face, his stern demeanor seems to break, and he’s shaking his head, suddenly rushing to explain himself on some other level. “I’m not saying this to get your hopes up or anything. I’m certain this would put you in a very awkward position—”

Han-Seo can’t help himself. He’s already degloved both his hands, so he quickly brings one up to cover the entirety of Vincenzo’s mouth with his palm. “Stop talking, hyung.” He bites back laughter at the way Vincenzo blinks at him. “Are we good? Is it my turn to say something?”

The look on Vincenzo’s face is downright comical. Han-Seo knows by reaching up like that, he’s basically signed himself up for a twisted wrist and a few broken fingers. It’s compliment enough that he didn’t wind up getting fought off like that. Either way, Vincenzo nods his head, still as bug-eyed as ever, and Han-Seo lowers his hand.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he responds simply. “I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life, you know?” He won’t spill all the gory details, because Vincenzo most likely knows most of them. His drug addiction, his struggles with his brother’s abuse, his love for Babel and longing to help it blossom into a legitimate company…Vincenzo probably knows all of it. “Even if it’s fleeting, or sporadic, or whatever you need it to be, I’ll take it. I know you won’t be in Korea forever, and I know something…y’know, between us can’t really happen, but…you make me happy, hyung.”

Vincenzo’s brow furrows, and for a moment, Han-Seo worries he’s made the man emotional. That in mind, he closes the distance between them once more. “I’m gonna kiss you back now,” he warns, before he raises his hand, curling his fingers around the back of Vincenzo’s neck, and leans up to kiss those lips once more. He feels the way Vincenzo hesitates, before both of those arms come around his waist and pull him in close. It’s a shame they’re bundled up in all this padding right now, because the close contact would probably feel downright incredible right now.

But like Han-Seo said, he’s going to take what he can get, and a kiss in hockey uniform on the ice doesn’t sound half-bad.

The future may be uncertain, but what’s going on right now is very, very real.

#hancenzo #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #jang hanseo #jang han seo #vincenzo x hanseo

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sesamestreep · 3 years

Text

if dreams were thunder, and lightning was desire

(read on AO3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: It's one thing to agree to get married for symbolic reasons in the name of political unity. It's another thing entirely to actually be married. [AKA - further adventures in that arranged marriage medieval fantasy AU of Rogue One]

A/N: Here I am, arriving three years late with proverbial Starbucks, to post my now once-yearly attempt at fic! I'm actually posting this as a birthday gift to my forever girl @firstelevens who is also responsible for helping me flesh out this idea in the first place.... [checks notes] uh, four years ago. Happy happy birthday and thank you for being the most supportive and wonderful friend in the multiverse, even though I’ve recently become terrible at replying to texts. Further notes are there if you want them if you follow the AO3 link above!

Cassian Andor wakes up to an empty bed, which is not, in and of itself, a startling thing. In fact, there was a time, only a few months ago, when it would have been a much greater surprise to find the other side of his bed occupied. Even now that he is married, waking to find his wife already up and gone is not an uncommon occurrence. The first few times he woke to find her gone, he had been confused, certainly, but he has adjusted to her habits and the sight of her side of the bed empty no longer inspires panic or concern as it had in the beginning.

However, this morning is different. Cassian’s wife is an early riser almost without exception, but she is not normally so far ahead of him that her side of the bed is as cold as it is now when Cassian runs his palm over the linens. Even more startling is the darkness that still lingers outside the window. It’s not yet dawn, then, and she is already awake and about the castle. That is highly unusual.

Perhaps, if Cassian had slept well, he might let these confusing details go. But he never sleeps well the night before he travels and tomorrow—or today, actually, given the hour—he leaves on a scouting mission to the southern provinces. He has slept fitfully most of the night and apparently only got enough actual sleep to let his wife slip out of their chambers unnoticed. He sighs and throws off the bedding, knowing he won’t get any more rest until he knows where Jyn has gone.

In little more than three months of marriage, Cassian cannot say he’s gotten to know his wife well. She is secretive and aloof, as a rule, and he has done all he can to give her the space she seems to yearn for, because he knows that, while she has accepted him as a husband, she did not choose him. Their union is a symbolic one, designed to mollify two disparate factions of the Rebellion as they struggle to rule together. He and Jyn are not royalty or even particularly important people, aside from that. No one is waiting on them for heirs or anything of that sort, and they can spend the rest of their lives as indifferent to each other as they please.

Still, Cassian cannot help that he has learned things about his wife, in spite of the careful distance that exists between them. He is a spy, after all. His job is to discover new information, even—or perhaps, especially—when the other party does not wish to give it to him. Jyn is adept at hiding things from others, but even she is not a complete mystery to him. No one is, for one thing, but she has the distinct disadvantage of sharing a bed with him.

What he knows does not amount to much, truly. Except that he had heard his wife complain more than once, in an undertone to her brother, of how restless and bored she feels cooped up in the stone walls of the castle. That, and the early hour where almost everyone else will still be in bed, suggests to Cassian that he would do well to get dressed and try to find his wife outside.

His instincts are correct in this case, as he finds her on the southern lawn outside the castle, standing alone and, he imagines, waiting for the sunrise that is beginning to tinge the sky with an orange glow just above the horizon. He takes the opportunity, before she hears him approach, to pause and take in the image of her, alone in the pretty half-light of the early morning.

She wears no overcoat, which irks him for reasons he does not fully understand. By midday, there is a good chance it will be a balmy spring day, but now, it is still chilly and damp without the sun to warm them. Jyn could catch a cold in this weather and Cassian has never known someone who can be so cautious and so careless at the same time.

On the other hand, she did go through the trouble of getting fully dressed before heading out, so perhaps Cassian should be thankful. He apparently also got more sleep than he realized, because he hadn’t heard any sound at all while she got her clothes on in the dark of their bedchamber. He half-expected her to still be in her dressing gown, given her lack of concern with convention.

He wishes he could say she looked tranquil as she surveys the forested land that borders the castle, but, for all he can only just make out her features in the minimal lighting, he can tell she is frowning. He thinks, absently, that she is beautiful nonetheless and then regrets it. He should not be distracted by her looks when he knows she is unhappy.

The distant call of a bird draws her attention in his direction and he sees the way her eyes widen in alarm when they land upon him before she thinks to hide her reaction. His opportunity to observe her unnoticed is gone, and he has no choice but to cross the distance between them, though he does try to appear unhurried.

“Good morning, Captain,” she greets him as he comes nearer and he almost stops short.

It always trips him up when she refers to him by his rank. It’s fine when others do so—that is protocol—but hearing it from his wife always strikes him as odd. He has told her as much, but there are moments when she defers to it still. He believes, though he has no proof of this, that she does it on purpose, that she only uses it when she is in a certain mood. Cassian has yet to ascertain what that mood is—if she is being sarcastic, if she is angry, if it might be her way of showing affection, even—but he knows there is some motive behind it that he does not understand. If he knew, he might be able to respond in some clever way, but as it is, he is at a loss for words.

“Good morning, my lady,” he says, and perhaps he is cleverer than he gives himself credit for, because Jyn’s frown deepens momentarily before she can stop herself. “You are up early today.”

“As are you,” she says, her tone suggesting that she heard the question hidden in his statement and she won’t be responding to it.

Cassian laughs, without meaning to. “I couldn’t find my wife this morning. It was an alarming way to wake up.”

He expects a terse response from her, saying that she is always awake before him. Instead, Jyn’s eyebrows raise in surprise and her frown eases, just a bit. “You were worried?” She asks, disbelieving.

“I—of course I was,” he replies. He is always worried, he doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed yet.

“About me?”

“Yes,” he says, puzzled by her need for clarification. “We’re married. It is my duty to worry about you.”

Jyn tsks at that, whether in understanding or disappointment, he’s not sure. “And you are always dutiful,” she says, her tone unreadable still.

“I try to be,” Cassian says, feeling like he is stuck in a game of wits for which he is unprepared. He is capable and coherent around others, but his wife always has the upper hand on him. It never feels like he has the right answer for her. Even now, she nods before looking away, back at the horizon as it becomes rosier by the moment.

“Are you well?” He asks, when the silence starts to stretch out too long.

She blinks in confusion when she looks back at him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I—yes, of course,” she says, and he realizes it was the question that confused her. “Do I not look well?”

Another question to which there is no right answer, he thinks. “It’s very early to be out of bed,” he says, instead of answering her question.

“I am always up early.”

“Not this early.”

“Have I done something wrong, Captain?”

“Jyn, I’m not chastising you,” he says, laughing. He’s not amused, not precisely, but if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll probably shout from frustration. This feels safer. “I’m asking if something is troubling you. I want to know that you are alright.”

His obvious frustration must outweigh her annoyance, because everything about her—her expression, her posture—immediately softens, the fight going out of her instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, not when you’re leaving this morning, but I see that I did anyway.”

“You didn’t. I...never sleep well before a journey.”

“Oh?”

He hesitates to say more, lest he seem like he sought her out just to drop his problems at her feet, but she is watching him with interest and, if he’s not mistaken, concern, so perhaps she would not mind. “All of the details, the logistics of the trip, I go over them, in my head, all night long. I’m practically frantic by morning, most of the time.”

“I—” Jyn cuts herself off, shaking her head, like she had something to say and thought the better of it. “I have a hard time imagining you in a frantic state,” she says, instead.

“Well, then,” he says, feeling some strange twinge of pride, “I suppose I am doing my job well.”

“As a spy, perhaps,” she replies, her tone unreadable.

“What other job do I have?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he’s not, officially speaking, a spy anymore. His actual title has something to do with “intelligence,” a distinction he’s meant to care about a lot more than he actually does. He’s not spying in the same way that he was during the war, but he’s not delusional enough to tell himself that those aren’t the skills the Republic has kept him around for.

Jyn gives him a long, searching look. “It hardly matters,” she says, finally, waving a hand and looking off at the horizon again. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m a miserable excuse for a wife, though, not noticing that you couldn’t sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Of course not,” she says, smiling, though the light of it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You are far too polite.”

“‘Polite’ is not the first word most people would use to describe me, my lady.”

“‘Careful,’ then,” she says, pointedly.

Cassian nods, feeling as if he has lost this round. “That is far more likely.” He pauses before he says anything more, weighing the risk of it, but ultimately decides it might be worth saying. “I did not want to trouble you. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I often am, at odd hours,” she says, and there’s something light and teasing about it now. “And you could stand to trouble me more, Captain. I’ve never heard of such an undemanding husband before.”

Unable to parse what she means when she suggests he “trouble” her when he cannot sleep—and unwilling to use his imagination, knowing where it will lead him—he decides to address a less mystifying part of her comment. “I’ve told you that you needn’t call me that,” he says.

“‘Husband?’” She asks, innocently, though he sees a bit of performance in it.

“No. ‘Captain.’”

“Well, you still call me ‘my lady.’ Only one of those honorifics is still worth anything, and it surely isn’t mine.”

“I only call you ‘my lady’ when…”

“Yes?” Jyn’s features take on the expression of an animal that has backed its prey into a corner, leaving it no options of retreat.

Cassian thinks it unwise to point this out, though. He also thinks it unwise to finish what he was about to say, which is that he only calls her ‘my lady’ when he wants to call her ‘my dear’ or something equally sentimental that he’s sure she would not approve of. It feels disingenuous to him, as well. He simply finds his vocabulary for expressing the intimacy of living so closely with another person without encroaching upon the territory of affection rather wanting. He cares for her, of course—why else would he be out of bed and out of doors on a freezing morning if he didn’t?—but there is hardly a chance of love or even affection in a marriage as young and unfamiliar as theirs.

“When I do not know what else to call you,” he says, instead of the truth. It’s barely even a lie, but it nags at him like one regardless. He has been trying to lie less around his wife, but it’s a difficult habit to break.

“My name would work well enough,” Jyn replies, her tone caught somewhere between amused and suspicious.

“So would mine.”

She hesitates before responding, looking shy, although it is a rare thing from her. “I thought you might like it, being called by your rank.”

“Not from you,” he says, immediately. “I am called that by enough people. When I’m home, when I’m with you, I am just your husband.”

He doesn’t realize the way this sounds—sentimental, the very thing he was avoiding—until the words are out of his mouth and Jyn’s face goes blank with astonishment. She recovers quickly, though, looking down at her feet.

“As you wish, husband,” she says, quietly.

“Well, you know now why I could not sleep. What has kept you awake?”

“Bad dreams,” she says, matter-of-factly. “As always.”

“Always?” Cassian repeats, concerned. He didn’t know she had nightmares. She shifts in her sleep often, he has noticed, always twisting herself into shapes that cannot possibly be comfortable, but he’s never known her to cry or panic enough to wake herself, the way he associates with nightmares.

“Most nights,” she confirms, looking away to avoid his gaze.

She crosses her arms over her chest, although he cannot tell if it’s a defensive gesture or simply because she is cold. He decides to proceed as though it is the latter and begins to slip his arms out of his coat’s sleeves. The rustling of the fabric draws her gaze back to him and her eyes widen with alarm when she realizes what he means to do.

“Oh, no,” she says, waving a hand to ward him off. “Don’t bother. You will freeze without it.”

“Is that so?” Cassian asks, ignoring her protests and pulling his jacket off completely.

“I know how cold you get,” she says, archly. There are things she has learned from sharing a bed with him, too, it appears.

He doesn’t take the bait to argue with her and instead steps forward until he’s only a single pace away from her and sweeps the jacket over her shoulders. She stands stiffly as he does so, as if she cannot figure out her part in this scene. Or perhaps she worries the slightest gesture will upset the moment they are sharing, though this idea might be romantic nonsense on Cassian’s part.

He draws the coat tighter around her body by the lapels and he fidgets with the collar so it will stand up and block the cold wind, since she has no scarf. He wants nothing more in the world than to take her hair that has gotten trapped in the collar and draw it out for her, if only for the excuse it would give him to run his hands through it without the risk of giving himself away. All the while, Jyn watches him with her chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed in obvious but neutral interest. Perhaps he has already given himself away.

“Do not worry on my account,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He has finished arranging the coat around her shoulders, but his hands still linger on the lapels, holding it together, not wanting to let go and give up his excuse to be close to her. “If I am any good at my job, I will convince you to come inside before I even feel the cold.”

“Your job?” Jyn asks, warily. “As a spy?”

“Yes, and as a husband.”

“It is your duty as my husband to ensure I do not freeze to death?”

“Amongst other things.” He means it plainly enough, but in this close proximity, he sees the way Jyn bites her lip and look away at the implication of his words and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, no matter how artlessly. “I have nightmares too.”

Jyn’s head snaps up. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“About the war?”

Cassian swallows and words feel more difficult than he anticipated, so he simply nods. It’s probably important that his wife knows these things about him, especially if he wants her to tell him things too.

She watches him carefully, as if she’s waiting for a trap but Cassian just gazes steadily back at her, to see if she’ll trust him. After a moment, she sighs and says, more to his chest than to his face, “most of mine are from when I was young.”

“I have a few of those too.”

Jyn nods, closing her eyes. Cassian transfers the lapels of the coat into one hand, so that his other one is free to rub her shoulder. He wants her to say more, but he doesn’t want to pressure her. Without warning, she steps further into his embrace, close enough that she’s able to perch her chin on his shoulder. Though her face is turned away from him, the sweetness of the gesture nearly overwhelms him. He places his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, just so she doesn’t think to pull away.

“I think the trouble is not having much to occupy my time here,” she says, after a moment, and Cassian could collapse with relief at hearing her speak. “I’m not accustomed to idleness. And when I try to sleep, my mind is still awake and it gives me these vivid dreams.”

He can’t help himself any longer. He smooths a hand over the back of her head, brushing back some strands of hair that have come loose from where she’s tried to tie it at the nape of her neck. He thinks he feels her pull closer. “And what do you dream of?”

“My brother and I, when we were young, we were always out of doors. We’d have breakfast with my mother and then she’d send us away and we’d spend all day together, collecting rocks and shells from the beaches or scrambling over rocks. We never came home until dinner.”

“That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.”

“It was lovely,” she says, sounding pained, and he tightens his hold on her. “I had a very idyllic childhood, in most regards. Mostly because my parents didn’t tell me anything that was going on.”

Cassian laughs, lightly, at that. “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

Jyn buries her face in his shoulder, hiding from his gaze. “A lot of good it did me,” she says, and even her tone sounds closed-off.

“What happens in your dreams?” He asks, quietly. He knows she probably wants to end this conversation and pretend it never happened, but he needs her to know that he’s here, that he’s willing to listen.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if to prepare herself. “It’s just me and Bodhi as children, running around wild like always. At first, it feels like a memory, but then it starts to feel…sinister. I don’t really know how to describe it, it’s just this inexplicable dread that washes over me. Sometimes, we can hear people coming, a great mass of them, and we get scared. Other times, there’s some terrible storm moving in, faster than we can run. But we try to get home, anyway. We’re always running to find my mother, to warn her. It always feels so important that we get to her. And the ground falls away beneath our feet. Sometimes, I lose Bodhi; he falls or gets hurt and he’s crying out for my help but I can’t stop, or sometimes, he just disappears and I can’t remember how to get home. And I’m completely alone.”

After a moment’s silence, Jyn pulls back in his embrace. He doesn’t let her go, but he does give her some space. “Foolish, isn’t it?” She asks, with a false smile. He can hear the unshed tears in her voice and knows she’s trying to make light of it so he doesn’t think her weak.

“No,” he says, firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Not at all. But you and your brother survived the war, Jyn. And you’re together. It must be some comfort to you.”

“Yes, it is. Of course it is. But our parents didn’t survive. And that version of us, the children who used to play on the beach together, they didn’t survive the war, either. Our lives are so different now. I think that’s what the dream is about.”

“You wish to go home?”

“I wish to go back,” she says, bearing his personal question with grace. She thinks on it a moment, before sighing in frustration and shaking her head. “If only it was as simple as returning to Lah’mu. But I know that the place will not be the same now as it was then. And I am different too.”

“Perhaps that’s why something is always wrong in your dream,” Cassian muses. “You long to go back to that time in your life, but you know you don’t belong there anymore. Maybe that’s the source of the tension you feel in the dream.”

Jyn looks at him, appraisingly, and he worries that he overstepped somehow. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t seem offended. “What do you dream of, Captain?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You said you have nightmares too.”

“Oh, yes,” he replies, with considerable effort. He’d forgotten about that admission. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Of course,” Jyn says, and her expression shutters immediately. “You’re under no obligation to tell me.”

Cassian reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s brushing against her collarbone, twisting the errant strand around his finger loosely. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says, quietly and more plaintively than he meant to. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about offending her by accident. “I’m not equivocating. I really do not know how to describe them.”

“Do you even wish to?” She asks, with a sharpness he deserves but is still unprepared for.

“No,” he answers honestly, which makes her blink in surprise. “I do not wish to tell you anything that will make you think less of me.”

“You should not worry about that.”

“Is your opinion of me already so low?” He asks, with every intention of making light of it but the question comes out unfortunately earnest.

Jyn, for her part, looks bewildered. “No,” she says, immediately. “Quite the opposite. I have a hard time imagining anything you could say that would make me think less of you.”

He takes a deep breath, looking away from her face and focusing instead on the strand of hair he’s still toying with. “I always dream of people I’ve…lost. People I’ve hurt or abandoned,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s much like what you’ve described, I think. They feel like memories but I know they’re not quite right. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happens. So I just have to live through it again. And again. Until I wake up.”

As he’s speaking, Jyn reaches for him, closing her hand around his wrist where it’s resting against her shoulder. When he feels the weight of her thumb pressing into the space between the bones of his forearm, he releases the lock of her hair, letting it unspool from around his finger. He’d pull his hand back completely, but her grip on him tightens like she’s read his mind. She brings his hand close enough that she can press her lips to the spot where his pulse is now racing wildly.

“You ought to have told me sooner,” she says, and she must be able to feel his heartbeat against her lips. The thought makes him warm with both embarrassment and anticipation.

He swallows with considerable effort. “To what end?”

“There are things,” she says, against the soft skin of his inner wrist, “that a wife can do. To help her husband sleep. To take his mind off his worries. I could do those things for you, if you wanted. You need only ask.”

She makes it sound so simple, as if they had the sort of marriage where they stated their desires plainly to each other, where they asked for what they wanted and then got it. But the asking is the most difficult part, in Cassian’s experience, or maybe the wanting is. They’ve been intimate together in the way Jyn is implying only once, on their wedding night, and, while enjoyable, it hardly left him with a strong sense of what his wife wants or expects from him.

Now, though, Jyn is offering that to him again. There was no mistaking it. His own need startles him, thrumming in his veins so loudly that he can hardly think. He has weeks of travel ahead of him, weeks of sleeping on the hard ground with only young, raucous soldiers for company. It will be cold and lonely and it will not even occur to him to complain, to dislike it, since it’s all he knows. Or, rather, it was all he knew before he was married. Before Jyn. He would be wise to avail himself of his wife’s offer while he can, enjoy the softness of her before he leaves and knows no softness of any kind for weeks.

He takes too long considering it, though, for Jyn’s face falls and she pulls back from him, only a little but it feels like a great distance, when they are this close. “Of course, you should feel no obligation to—”

“I don’t,” he replies, hastily. “I don’t feel any obligation.”

“I merely thought I should offer,” she says, and her eyes lower to avoid his gaze.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “What I meant to say is…what I feel for you is not obligation.”

He can feel her looking at him now, the scrutiny in her gaze obvious even with his eyes still closed. “And what do you feel for me, Captain?” She asks, carefully.

An overwhelming and terrible want , he thinks. A desire so deep he has yet to discover the bottom of it. A dangerous kind of possessiveness, like they belong to one another, even though they’re not the sort of people who belong to anyone, or the sort to hold onto anything they’re given too tightly, because they know the pain of having it taken away.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking at her and the only logical conclusion to that action is to step forward and kiss her. His hand, the one she’s not still holding captive, curves around her cheek as his mouth covers hers. Her lips part for him without hesitation and their kiss deepens. It’s as good as their wedding night, but this time he’s sharp and clear headed, not hazy and tired from long hours of drinking and celebrating, and he intends to memorize every single detail. The way she wraps her arm around him and her fingers dig into his shoulder blade, desperate for purchase. The sound of surprise she made when their lips first met and how it mellows into a quiet hum of satisfaction, as if she’s been waiting for this.

When she pulls away from him after a few moments, it takes everything in his power not to whine in complaint. But they’re both breathing heavily and Jyn’s hair is even more disheveled than before, which might be his fault but could also be from the wind that’s doing its best to push them back to their warm bed. He’s beginning to think they should listen, and he’s about to say as much, when Jyn speaks first.

“You’re cold,” she says, and he’s about to take it the wrong way when she pulls his hand from her face and wraps it up in both of her own to warm it.

He laughs, more overwhelmed than anything else. “I don’t feel it,” he says, because he was too busy feeling everything else.

She levels an arch look at him, either because she’s not impressed with his effort to flatter her or because she’s actually worried he’s going to catch his death like this, kissing her on a hillside in the early morning. He’s going to die somehow, it might as well be like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t try to kiss her again. He has the sense that she has more to say.

“You can kiss me in our bedroom, you know,” she says, making it worth the wait.

His heartbeat races, caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “I can?” He asks, stupidly.

Jyn searches his face, looking for something. Reassurance, perhaps, or sincerity. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she nods, slowly, and a smile overtakes her face. “You can kiss me anywhere you like,” she says, and it does his heart rate no favors.

Cassian steps back, grabbing her hand so he can pull her with him in the direction of the castle. She follows him and, as they walk, he pulls her into his side, burying his face in her neck and planting a kiss there. When she squirms slightly and elbows him in the ribs, he laughs against her skin.

“You said anywhere ,” he says, and she laughs too.

***

The next morning, the castle bustles with activity as Cassian leaves his briefing with Draven. Using the former seat of the emperor’s power as the headquarters of the government of the New Republic has always struck him as a smart choice on the part of the rebels, from a symbolic standpoint and in a practical sense of needing the actual work of governing the country to happen somewhere. By its very nature, a castle is almost comically oversized for one person’s needs, even a ruler’s, and so the former rebels had made a much better use of the space than the emperor ever had.

However, on this particular morning, with his mind already running through logistics of the mission ahead and planning what to say to the soldiers he’s bringing along, Cassian finds the crowded halls and corridors more grating than he normally does. It hadn’t seemed possible to feel this way during the war, when the emperor’s excesses had seemed so absurd and villainous, but Cassian is beginning to wonder if maybe the castle is too small for their purposes. The new government will loathe the idea of expanding, will object to spending money on something so frivolous, but it may be necessary, he thinks, as he bumps into yet another person in the crush of people moving about as he makes his way to the courtyard. The small party of soldiers accompanying him on this mission are gathering there now and they’re meant to depart in less than an hour. It will not set a good tone for the next few weeks if their captain keeps them waiting.

Much like in the old days—and it is staggering to think of the rebellion as something of the past, he realizes with a lurch—these missions are to gather information on activity across the Republic. However, unlike in the old days, he’s not trying to find the one piece of intelligence he’s certain will win the war for the rebels, which is a welcome change. He’s also, generally speaking, not in constant mortal danger anymore, though there are some areas of the country that the war ravaged worse than others, leaving desperation and crime in its wake. That’s why Draven still sends Cassian on these scouting missions, to see what corners of the nation still need aid or resources. Peacetime has been far from perfect for everyone, but even with the things he’s seen, Cassian can’t deny most people, himself included, are better off.

He’s so lost in his thoughts of the mission as he makes his way to the rendezvous point he arranged with the party that Bodhi must have had to call his name a half a dozen times before Cassian finally heard him. By the time he turns around, Bodhi is practically at his elbow, which is both impressive and guilt-inducing, from the way Cassian can see him leaning heavily on his cane. He does his best not to wince, because Bodhi doesn’t enjoy being fretted over, and slows down so his brother-in-law can more easily keep pace with him instead.

“Captain,” Bodhi exclaims, managing to only sound slightly out of breath, “I’m glad I caught you!”

“Coming to see me off, Captain Rook?” Cassian asks, pointedly.

Bodhi looks properly chastened. “Sorry, Cassian. I’m still not used to it.”

“Calling me by my first name or being a captain yourself?”

“Either,” he says, and Cassian understands. Bodhi was only promoted to Captain after his heroics in the Battle of Eadu and it was only a few months later that the treaty was signed. He’s only ever been a captain in peacetime. “I just don’t fully think of you as my sister’s husband yet.”

That does make Cassian wince and he isn’t quick enough to hide it from Bodhi, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm. “Not like that!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s nothing to do with you! I just can’t believe Jyn has a husband at all. In my head, she’s still six years old and telling me what to do all the time.”

“To be fair, she does still tell you what to do,” Cassian replies. “No change in your rank will ever change that.”

Bodhi laughs. “You’re certainly right about that.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Where is my sister, anyway? Isn’t she coming to see you off?”

“Oh, well, she’s—no.” He clears his throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes.”

Bodhi nods absently, seemingly satisfied with this answer and mercifully doesn’t ask for any further details. Cassian is not sure his nonchalant facade would hold up under questioning and the exact nature of the goodbye he and his wife shared this morning would soon be extremely obvious to her brother. It’s better for everyone if they somehow avoid that outcome altogether.

His relief is short-lived, however, when Bodhi suddenly asks, “And did she…uh…did she get a chance to, well…?”

They arrive at the training yard before Bodhi arrives at his actual question. Cassian pauses in the archway that leads into the yard and turns to face him. “What is it?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, I was just wondering if my sister got a chance to speak with you?”

“Bodhi, your sister and I are married. We speak with one another quite often as a result. You will need to be more specific.”

Bodhi makes a face that suggests he would much rather do anything else. “I thought she might have mentioned the incident with Senator Jebel?” he says, voice stuck between a statement and a question.

Cassian blinks, searching his memory for anything relevant. “Incident?” He finally asks, when nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“‘Incident’ might be too strong a word,” Bodhi admits apologetically.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide what the correct word for it is?”

“It’s just—if Jyn didn’t tell you about it, then it clearly didn’t bother her very much. I certainly don’t want to insert myself into the middle of your marriage!”

Cassian doesn’t point out that it’s a little late for that sentiment and instead asks, as calmly as he can manage, “What happened, Bodhi?”

“Well, it was just—” He pauses as a few people pass between them to exit into the yard, shifting his weight uncomfortably while trying to maintain his grip on his cane. When they’re gone, he continues, “Jyn and I were walking together the other day when we came across Lieutenant Tuesso walking with Senator Jebel. And, well, Kay was saying something to her about passing along some information for your upcoming scouting mission and—actually, Jyn told him to tell it to you himself because she’s not your secretary—”

Cassian smiles at that, able to picture it so clearly. Kay is perhaps his oldest friend and the person he trusts most in the field, but he and Jyn get along like oil and water. Still, if Kay had truly objected to Cassian’s marriage, he would have done everything in his power to stop it, but he’d only asked if Cassian was sure before giving his blessing. Well, it was more like his resignation, but coming from Kay, they’re basically the same thing. Cassian likes to imagine that Jyn’s fiery temper and sharp wit secretly amuse Kay but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it.

“But that’s not the point,” Bodhi says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The point is: Kay was talking about your trip and Senator Jebel asked why you were being sent off on a mission so close to your wedding, to which Jyn replied that it had been three months and that it wasn't terribly close. And then the Senator said she must have been very confident in…well, winning you over, if she was comfortable sending you off on your own so soon.”

“‘Winning me over’? What does that even mean?”

Bodhi looks uncomfortable. “You know, as a wife?” He says, sounding pained. When Cassian just stares at him blankly, he sighs and adds, begrudgingly, “Senator Jebel may have implied that a man of your rank might use a mission like this to…avail themselves of the sexual talents of women other than their wives, you know, during their travels. Unless, of course, the wife in question had already proved herself irreplaceable in that regard.”

Cassian knows that Bodhi has expressed himself clearly and put all of his words in the right order, and yet he still cannot comprehend a single thing he’s just heard. They stare at each other in silence—his baffled, Bodhi’s embarrassed—for a long time before anything clicks into place in Cassian’s mind.

“He said this to Jyn?” He asks, finally. It’s hard to speak around all of the dread pooling at the base of this throat.

Bodhi cringes. “Well, he really said it to me and Kay. He was talking over Jyn’s head, which sounds better but, as you can imagine, made it much worse.”

“And what did she have to say to all this?”

“I made sure to drag her away as quickly as possible and Kay distracted the Senator with just as much haste!”

“Bodhi,” Cassian says on an exhale. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on. “What did Jyn say?”

His shoulders sag in defeat. “She only said that she had no concerns on that front,” Bodhi says, plainly unsure if he’s helping or hurting at this point. “And then I made our excuses and got her away from him as soon as I could, I promise!”

“I believe you,” Cassian replies, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your efforts to take care of your sister.”

“I thought perhaps her feelings had been hurt by Senator Jebel’s comments, but since she has not mentioned the incident to you, perhaps she dismissed them as quickly as they deserved.”

“Perhaps,” Cassian says, for Bodhi’s benefit, but his mind is on his wife’s behavior this morning; all of her talk of the ways a wife could comfort her husband, how solicitous of his troubles she’d been, how vulnerable she’d seemed herself, even the kisses they’d shared and the way she’d allowed him to take her to bed. How different it all looked in this new light. Of course she wouldn’t mention the conversation with the Senator to him—to do so would be, in Jyn’s mind, to admit to a weakness, that she cared at all what others thought of their marriage or, worse, that she cared what Cassian thought of her as a wife—but it wouldn’t stop her from taking it as advice.

So she’d seduced him, and quite adeptly at that. He hadn’t even realized it was happening. He might have known better, under other circumstances, but he’d naively thought that being married to someone meant that you didn’t have to concern yourself with seduction. If his wife wanted to sleep with him, it seemed to him that all she had to do was show interest in such a thing or, heaven forbid, simply say so, and she could have her way. To play such games about it seems counterproductive to him, but given how easily he was manipulated on this occasion, Cassian might not be the person to ask.

“I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Bodhi says, anxiously, at which point Cassian realizes he has been staring off into space for a long moment.

“Of course not,” he says immediately. “I appreciate your telling me.”

“You won’t tell Jyn I mentioned it, will you?”

“No. Like you said, if it had bothered her, she would have told me herself.” It isn’t true, not in the slightest, but Cassian can see that Bodhi needs to hear it. “Besides, now I can use my spare time on this trip to plan my revenge on Senator Jebel.”

“Revenge?” Bodhi asks, wide-eyed with concern. It’s sometimes hard to believe someone as tenderhearted as he is fought in the war, let alone survived it.

Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not thinking of challenging him to a duel, Bodhi. Relax. But there are a great many ways a man of my position can make his life…uncomfortable and I shall enjoy thinking of as many of them as possible.”

“I am once again reminded how glad I am to be on your good side, Cassian,” Bodhi says, faintly. “And that you’re looking out for my sister.”

Cassian has never felt less capable of doing any such thing, not when Jyn is still keeping secrets from him and treating him as an opponent, but he nods anyway. His wife would likely roll her eyes at the sentiment, but he cannot stand by knowing that someone made her feel small even for a moment. He gets a savage sort of thrill out of the idea that she shall have his protection, whether she wants it or not.

“I am glad to be of service,” he says, vaguely. “But I’m afraid I must give the soldiers their orders now if we’re to be off on time.”

“Of course. Safe travels.” Bodhi offers his hand for Cassian to shake and then claps him on the shoulder as he takes his leave.

Cassian is certain that he relays Draven’s orders to the soldiers assembled in the yard as soon as he’s done speaking with Bodhi but he can’t actually remember a single thing he said by the time he’s securing the saddle on his own horse. His only excuse is that his mind is obviously elsewhere. Even though he knows he should focus on the mission ahead, he can’t stop thinking about Jyn.

As though he’s conjured her, she suddenly appears in the courtyard, with Kay and Senator Mothma in tow. The latter two are deep in conversation about something, while his wife doesn’t seem to be participating at all if the mild, far-off look on her face is any indication. It’s not surprising to see them all together; he’s sure that the Senator is the one who approved their scouting mission for General Draven and that he asked Kay to appraise her of the mission’s status because he’d rather not do it himself. And Jyn and Senator Mothma are often in each other’s company. Jyn often jokes that the Senator has claimed her as an unofficial assistant but Cassian suspects it’s just because she doesn’t want to admit that they are friends.

Before he can think better of it, Cassian calls out to Jyn, despite the fact that she’s on the other side of the courtyard still. It doesn’t occur to him until afterwards that shouting to get someone’s attention in a crowded area is probably bad manners, especially if that person is a lady. She looks startled to hear her name and the soldiers scattered throughout the area look up in shock at hearing him raise his voice at all. When her eyes meet his across the yard, Jyn’s neutral, distant expression shutters, turning into something more wary and focused. Cassian tilts his chin very slightly to beckon her over, not risking a bigger gesture lest the assembled soldiers think they’re about to witness something salacious. He’s determined they won’t, and Jyn catches his meaning anyway, even from a distance, and begins to make her way over.

He means to use the long moment it will take her to reach him to plan what he will say, how he will broach this delicate subject with her without implicating her brother in divulging the information to him, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her. She’s dressed plainly enough, not being one for embellishment, but her dress is a deep burgundy that suits and fits her well and she’s gingerly holding the skirt to keep the hem from dragging along the dirty ground. He only has to think on her clothing for a moment before his mind supplies the image of her this morning, as he was preparing to leave, just in her nightshirt, only deigning to get out of their bed to give him one last kiss goodbye. It was the only time he can remember being tempted to stay in bed rather than get on with his work. By the time she arrives, his face is warm with the sort of embarrassment he thought he’d grow out of once he was married.

“Yes, my lord?” She asks, and he’d tell her again to do away with such pointless formality if he couldn’t see the bright glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She’s trying to be funny.

He still has no idea what to say to her. His mind remains a complete blank, while his pulse is running wild. There is no way to tell her she should have trusted him enough to tell him about the incident with Senator Jebel, or that he knows the intimate moment they shared this morning was more inspired by that than by any genuine passion on her part, without giving away that he’s been listening to gossip. To admit that would only succeed in raising her defenses and causing an argument.

She didn’t trust him. That’s the heart of the matter and what is bothering him the most. Or perhaps it is that, for once in his life, he acted without suspicion or subterfuge and now he looks like a fool. Without realizing it, he’d begun to trust her but apparently the feeling is not mutual. It is only once this thought articulates itself in his mind that he catches himself; he’s embarrassed. She’s injured nothing but his sense of pride—that he always knows when someone is lying to him, that he’s always the man in the room with the most information.

But what, really, is the cost? So what if she outsmarted him? It’s not life or death, this. He wishes she had felt safe enough to be honest with him, but he can hardly blame her that she didn’t. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other and three months is not long enough to change a lifetime of mistrust in others, especially if one is accustomed to it as a means of survival. He still doesn’t know much about her past before they met, but if it was anything like his, he understands why opening up to him might prove difficult.

And maybe some of it was real—the dream she told him about, the reasons she has difficulty sleeping. Maybe she needed the ulterior motive of seducing him to make sure he doesn’t stray as an excuse to tell him the truth. And what does it tell her if he gets angry? How does it look if he holds it against her for being as secretive and wary as he always is himself? How can he ever expect her to trust him with anything if he lets his ego get in the way now? And perhaps more importantly, what does it really cost him to let her be right?

If she did what he thinks she did, it was an act of desperation, to ensure that she had some control over the life she was unceremoniously shoved into three months ago. She was afraid of the idea of him leaving on this trip and forgetting the vows he’d made as soon as she was out of sight. He can see now all the ways that her own ego is tied up in this—not wanting to be seen as an inadequate wife, wanting to prove Jebel wrong after he’d been so crass and unkind to her, and perhaps even worrying that Cassian felt the same way, that he had any complaints of their marriage—but he can also see further, to the core of the matter, where it’s just Jyn being afraid and alone. How can he punish her for that, when all he wants is for her to feel safe with him?

It costs him nothing to let her be right, then; to let her believe that he’s blissfully unaware of any hidden reason for her behavior or any conflict and just play the role of the devoted, smitten husband. It’s not as if he planned to be unfaithful to her while he was away, and giving her some assurance on that matter without revealing what he knows should be easy enough. Let her believe that her machinations paid off and she’s won her husband over with her feminine wiles. There’s no harm in that. When he thinks of it that way, it’s barely even a lie.

“Cassian,” she says now, eyes full of concern at his silently staring at her. “Is everything alright?”

He comes back to the present moment when her hand comes to rest on his arm. “Yes, everything is fine,” he says, weakly. “I apologize. There were probably less dramatic ways to get your attention.”

“No matter. I appreciate the efficiency of your method, I must say.”

“Still, I do not wish to embarrass you.” When he sees she means to shrug at that, he adds, “under any circumstances.”

She blinks at him, surprised, so some of his implied meaning must come through. “You do not embarrass me,” she replies, warily.

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Is that why you called me over?” She asks.

“No, I was—well, I realized I had forgotten to ask you if…well, if there was anything you needed.”

“Me?”

He nods, probably a touch too emphatically. He’s normally better at this, but Jyn has always caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m going to be traveling for the next few weeks and you can get almost anything from the markets in the southern provinces, so if there was anything you needed, I could bring it back for you.”

She stares at him as though he’s spoken in a language she’s never heard before. “I don’t believe I need anything at the present,” she says, finally, after considering her words for a long time.

“It doesn’t have to be something you need,” he says. “Something you want would suffice. Didn’t you lose your gloves recently?”

“No, I found them. I had left them in Senator Mothma’s chambers after she and I returned from a walk.”

“Still, I could get you nicer gloves.”

“It wouldn’t make much difference. I’d still forget them everywhere.”

“I could get you several pairs of gloves.”

“Cassian, what is this about?”

He covers her hand, still lingering on his arm, with his own, chafing her knuckles with his thumb. “Keeping your hands warm,” he says innocently.

She laughs incredulously. “You are not going away for the sole purpose of buying me presents. You will be busy with work. I imagine you will hardly have time to even think of me.”

“No, I’m afraid the real difficulty will be thinking of anything else,” Cassian says, his own pulse thundering behind his ears. It’s not the nerves of telling a lie and fearing getting caught, he realizes, but the panic of finally telling someone the long-guarded truth.

Jyn looks down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth in the gravel. “You don’t need to say such things. I do not require flattery to sustain me.”

“Well, whether you’re flattered or not is incidental. What matters is that it’s true.”

“Is that why you said it?”

“Yes. I know the truth and I have a complicated relationship, sometimes by necessity, but I try to be honest with you, as much as I can be. And I can only hope that I get a little better at it with each try. It’s not much, I know, but—”

“It’s worth more than you think,” she says carefully.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking— you can be honest with me too or I wish we could know each other better —because it feels like asking too much or risking betraying Bodhi’s confidence, so he leaves it at that.

Behind him, one of the lieutenants whistles for everyone’s attention. “Everyone is here and accounted for, Captain,” he adds, to Cassian. “We’re ready when you are.”

Cassian nods to him before looking back at Jyn just at the moment the wind picks up and loosens several strands of her hair from where it’s pulled back. He attempts to brush them back into place, while she watches him with amusement.

“It seems I must be going,” he says.

“So it does,” she replies. She appears to struggle with something, turning it over in her mind for a moment before she leans in and kisses him. His hand is still buried in her hair, trying to keep it from blowing about in the breeze again, and it helps him to keep her close. He’d normally be reticent to have such a display in front of his fellow soldiers—he doesn’t want to give them inspiration for gossip or a reason to tease him mercilessly if he has to spend the next several weeks in their company—but he’ll have to make an exception this time. It feels like a coded message from Jyn, that she trusts him, that he’s done well as her husband, at least in this moment. She’s not one to say so directly, and that’s fine. He’s willing to learn to speak her language, especially if it means kissing her like this more often.

However, common sense prevails eventually and he’s forced to pull back from her before they embarrass themselves in front of all the gathered soldiers. He runs his thumb over her cheek just once, feeling the chill of the morning there more than in his own body. “Goodbye, Jyn,” he says, quietly so only she can hear, and kisses her knuckles lightly for good measure.

“Take care of yourself,” she says, in a rush. Like she’s tried to keep it to herself but couldn’t manage it. “I expect you home in one piece or there will be hell to pay.”

“Of course, my dear,” he says as he steps up into the saddle.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the lieutenant beside Cassian chimes in, looking amused. “We will make sure nothing happens to your husband. You have my word.”

Cassian shakes his head at the young man, who looks even more shamelessly delighted, but Jyn is pleased by this, he can tell.

“Good,” she replies, nodding at him. “You don’t know me very well, sir, but I will tell you this: you would not like to be on my bad side.”

The lieutenant laughs. “No, ma’am, I would not. I’ll lead the party out, if you’d like, sir,” he adds to Cassian.

“Thank you,” Cassian replies. When the group has started to move out from the courtyard, he turns his attention back to Jyn and reaches his hand out to her.

She takes it, and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “My thoughts go with you,” she says.

“And mine stay here with you.”

The answering smile he receives stays with him as he follows the rest of the party out of the courtyard, as he lies on the cold ground of their camp that night, even as the mission turns long and tedious. It lasts until he can replace it in his memory with the smile he gets when he returns home again and sweeps her into his arms once more.

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #au #vaguely medieval fantasy au #my writing #my fic #one day i will title one of the fics in this series with actual graceland lyrics but today is not that day #i've been staring at this fic for three years basically just take it away from me please #anyway here's wonderwall #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since #HBD Zainab you elegant and industrious capybara

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

Text

Song: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

Summary: Hanamaki finally seals your fate by proposing to you- with a crappy ring that is.

Pairings: Takahiro Hanamaki x fem! reader

Word count: 6.9k

Genre: absolute fluff and crack, curse words

A/N: not me screaming when i had this idea, I've never felt more single in my life- brb bawling my eyes out- also let's pretend their in the same classes✋

Well, fate isn't something to be entirely trusted upon and neither should Hanamaki.

"Aw, shit."

He cusses when you bump into him, considering his incredibly tall figure, you were caught off guard on who you even crashed into. A small clink sound lands on the floor as you immediately face the boy who was looking at the ground, quite weirdly searching his pockets.

"Sorry- wait you're Hanamaki right?" You asked him, familiar with his hair color. You've seen him play countless of times due to the support of the school for each of their games yet you've never been this close with him. With his state, you immediately question what's got him so frantic.

He eyes the pen that was dead on the floor and he pouts before crouching down to reach it before he dusts off the dirt on it. He opens the cap of it before mindlessly writing on his hand and frowning even more when the ink didn't held its usual consistency- every stroke of a word had it loosing its pigment.

"Man, 'Kawas gonna kill me." He sighs before putting his hands and pen in his pocket as he looks at you surprised. How can he dismiss that he'd bump into you? He immediately bows in a way to apologize to you, completely forgetting that you were the one to hit him.

You knew he was pertaining to the well known setter but you were solely confused in what he was so worried about. Looking at the pen in his pocket, you saw how the ink was full but there were black spillage in the inside. You raise your eyebrow in confusion.

Did he just drop a new pen?

"I'm sorry I dropped your pen- I can let you borrow mine." You propose to him as he takes the pen in his hands admiring it like a wound in someone's arm. Seeing how you were scrambling in your bag to reach for your pencil case, his eyes sparkled at how it contained numerous pens, highlighters and mechanical pencils.

"Looking at the murder you caused, I'm simply asking for more than one pen then."

You tilt your head in curiosity but instead you opened your pencil case as he digs his hand in there picking three pens making you want to scoff at how he picked the gel pens that were your favorite. He looked at each one, writing on his palm if everything was working. He raises an eyebrow at you making you question if this was a fever dream because of how random it was- he acted like he was in a stationary section and it benefitted him that this particular section was free.

He then takes your hand causing you to internally yelp at his actions. Your eyes trail to what he was writing, you noticed it was his name instead. You look up at him as he smiled. Once he finishes writing, he extends his hand out while with the other hand held a pen ready for you to take.

"What's your name?" He asks processing on your features and asking himself why he's seen you dozens of times yet he's yet to get your name.

"Y/N." You say as he gestures for his hand as if telling you to write it. Somewhat following your instincts, you write your name on his hand. After it, he peeks the spelling of it and then casually shakes your hand as introduction.

"See you around, Y/N! You saved my ass with those pens so I guess I owe you one."

"Those are expensive."

"Now hold on there-"

That was how you met and the universe couldn't even joke about how they put you two together.

Now here you two are, invested in a stare off as Matsukawas sleepy eyes often switch his gaze between you and his best friend.

"Makki, it's in a week."

"I specifically remember it's the week after that."

"You two are hopeless." Issei comments making you laugh as Makki pouts at how you agreed with him. Nevertheless, Matsukawa leans his head on his arm ready to fall asleep at any moment. You return to arranging your notes while Makki twirls a pen in his hands while glancing at you once in a while.

Truth be told, it seems that fate still worked its way to the both of you. Ever since your-rather unique- encounter, a friendship was bound to happen. He surely made an impression on you and how could you miss to not be around him? Soon enough, you were also introduced to his teammates and you disliked how it strengthened your bond with him. There was comfort in his presence and to see him fool around with his teammates always radiated an amazing energy between you and him.

You also wanted to thank Oikawa for being somewhat the reason your conversation led to where you are now.

"What'd the pen do to make you this- scared?" You asked as he puts both hands behind his head, leaning on the seat.

"It's a scary pen when it belongs to Oikawa." You turn to him confused as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, ears perking up at how interesting it was.

"You're telling me you don't own a single pen and you always borrow Oikawas?" He scoffs with a smile before looking at you.

"Of course I bring pens, it's just better if it was from him." You let out a loud laugh, finding it hard to believe this was the sole reason Oikawa would commit murder on him. Hanamaki smiles at the sound of your laugh before shaking his head, at awe at the situation.

It was a coincidence how Oikawa always found a way to strike a nerve to Hanamaki when you visit them in the gym. He knew that beyond his teammates calm composure was a boy who undoubtedly likes you. Ever since Hanamaki returned the pen to him, he knew it wasn't his and in his mind, he asked himself who could've lent him a pen, more so that he had three brand new ones.

So when he sees you tagging beside him, he's taken his first lead to figure the two of you out. After a few more observations, he's convinced that you two were just blind to the feelings that were lingering around.

He's told Iwaizumi about it but all he got was a lecture on how he should let Hanamaki take it easy with asking you out. Which he also argued since it was taking too long, making Iwaizumi land him a smack to the head.

He had his boundaries, maybe not for himself, but for his friends he was more than willing to wait for this relationship to come together.

"So- a date? That's cool right? I mean arcades and shit."

"Makki, you're a loser."

"Arcades are awesome shut up."

"Yeah, for sure. Like Y/N is interested in 'arcades and shit'." Mattsun chuckles as Hanamaki lets out another pout as he sinks in his bed.

"I mean- we've gone on hang outs, she likes them anyway!" He argues making Mattsun shake his head with an amused smirk on his lips.

"So you're telling me you've actually had dates with her then?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs making the other boy groan at the lack of response. Hanamaki raises his head, pursing his lips at the actual thought.

You have actually gone on multiple dates with him. If you could even call it that. To Makki, he thought they were just subtle friendly things but he realizes how he's actually grown some fondness in each place.

"Y/N no I'm telling you- if I were the mastermind, we'd be successful." He argues before taking a sip from his drink. You rolled your eyes as you let your mind ran through the scenarios of having a heist with him and the boys.

You two just finished a heist movie and now you had to endure Makkis fantasies of how it would go down if the characters were him and the rest of the volleyball team. He was so invested in it that you actually had an entire plot and characterization for each teammate.

He argued that he'd be the best mastermind to ever conjure a plan for a heist. A stealthy ninja is what he says he mimics. You tried to argue that Iwaizumi would be good at it, since you noticed how responsible and at control he was but it had Hanamaki listing his reasons.

"No one would ever notice me! Because you know what- their attention would be on Oikawa! Then boom, get in the getaway car with a shit ton of money and thanks to who? Me of course." You let out a laugh making him stop his occupied thoughts to take a look at you. He adores the sound of it too much, especially since he was the usual cause of it. He sees the way you were wiping your eyes with the scenarios he'd told you.

Then your laughter slowly fades when you started to eat again as Makki admires you and how you've effortlessly got his mind to set more dates just to see you this happy.

You look up from your previous position, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Wait, where am I in the heist then?"

He looks at you, almost blurting out the initial idea he had for you in this specific role.

Honestly, I'd spend the money on you. Take you anywhere you wanted to go, Y/N.

That was what he wanted to say but his mouth translated it to a different saying.

"You could die-"

"Makki!" You shouted playfully, ruffling his hair. He laughs but unknowingly, his hand lands on top of yours when you sat back down.

"Excuse you, I can be a good distraction and assistance for action." You commented making him scoff.

"Yeah like you'd be able to hold a gun for a second."

"Please, I had Oikawa beg me to delete a photo of him."

"Okay maybe you are powerful."

You laughed once again, not even feeling how right it was for you to be holding hands like this. It felt comforting yet it brought your heart to speed up like it was in a marathon. You wondered if Makki felt the same, or was this another act of friendliness?

"I wouldn't want you to get hurt though." He whispers, making you smile and blush at the same time. As if it was another point on the score board for how many times he's had your heart go on a frenzy.

"Well, that's what the great mastermind is for right? To keep us safe and succeed?" You say, making him give a gentle squeeze to your hand, as you glanced down on them enjoying the way it looked.

As if I'm gonna let anyone lay a hand on you, Y/N. You're safe with me always.

After a few sly times where he'd hold your hand while you crossed the street or even tugging on your jacket when passing through a huge crowd so he doesn't lose you, he's realized he would absolutely drop the stars for you. He doesn't know whether he should feel terrified because of how he could put your friendship at risk but then he feels- almost relieved that the first person he could ever love is you.

It shouldn't even be difficult to ask you to hang out. You'd usually respond a second after he asks you, it's not even that big of a deal.

Now it's different.

He's finally gotten a clutch on his feelings and he thinks about his next moves. He often just let things happen, loving the way the moments just flowed naturally and perfect in some way but now he's choosing his words since he didn't plan on confessing in such a dorky way- especially when he just says it out loud without proper practice.

"Why don't you ask Oikawa for help then?" Issei suggests making the boy shake his head at the thought already.

"Do you know how much blackmail that idea comes with? He'll never live it down." Hanamaki says as he scrolled through his phone, almost frowning at the thought of humiliation coming from their captain.

"C'mon! He knows a lot of shit about flirting and dates! Maybe even help you in confessing, idiot."

He thinks about that deeply. Each member of the team would have completely diverse answers. As of the mean time, the only proper suggestions he'd get is from Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Mattsun. Though Mattsun has given him plenty of advices, he knew Oikawa was at the top for someone's idea of romance. The man has fangirls, he's obviously heard and experienced many hopeless romantic scenes in his life.

Iwaizumi would've actually been a lot of help knowing the guy is very good at maintaining control and responsibility. He'd give the proper date ideas, the mood to set. He looked like the perfect blueprint for Hanamaki to copy. He also believed that Iwaizumi would think nothing of these advices so it's a win-win if you ask him.

"Right, okay. I got this."

"Why me though?" Iwaizumi asks as Hanamaki spikes another ball.

"Look Iwa- I genuinely trust your judgment more. I just need help." Iwaizumi chuckles before collecting another ball.

"Fine fine. Just meet me after practice."

Hanamaki cheers when he hears him, even smiling now that he can figure out a way to show you how much he likes you.

Sure, he's doing it unintentionally sometimes. Tiny signs that should show you how he is absolutely in love with you. He'd show this in various ways as well. It comes as an instinct in some way. He'd hit you with a "let's have lunch" and you'd gladly accept. Mattsun has pointed out that Makki has already made a move on you countless of times but it had Makki questioning the depths of being friendly and going through courting you.

You haven't even made things official yet these so-called dates had your classmates wondering how your relationship started, even if it hasn't. Makki would always lean his head on your shoulder during lunch, to rest his brain from the lessons. For you, it's nothing. Makki has always been like this after you got comfortable with each other. This affectionate side of him even had Mattsun wonder why on Earth would he ask for help when he clearly doesn't need it.

The three of you are now seated in a lecture, boredom crossing your minds but Mattsun's mind was rattled by Hanamaki. After their conversation about asking help from Oikawa, he thought that Makki would actually go through the plan. Looking back on his motives with you, he just doesn't see a reason why he needs assistance from the setter. He can handle this all on his own, so scribbling down on a piece of paper, he throws it to Hanamaki who awakens by the action.

Hanamaki yawns as he opens the crumpled paper, his eyes widening and cheeks heating at the group of words.

'You can literally just confess to her now, even without shittykawa.'

He glares at Mattsun while the other boy shrugs with an expression that says "seriously, it's not that deep." He huffs before grabbing a pen and replying to his previous statement, then throwing it again.

'Try confessing to the girl you like during a lecture, Sherlock.'

Mattsun chuckles as Makki crosses his arms in front of his chest. His eyes land on you, who is fixated on the lecture. He smiles softly at the idea of a date with you, but this faint moment was ruined when Mattsun directly throws the ball of paper to Hanamakis face, earning a chuckle from some of his classmates.

He opens with eyebrows furrowed, annoyed at the shot.

'Not now dumbass, after classes. Just go up to her and say you like her, it's that easy dude.'

Hanamaki turns to him mocking his words while Mattsun rolls his eyes as Makki writes again. As he was about to throw the paper in Mattsuns direction, a student raised their hand hitting the paper and it suddenly landed on the floor beside you instead. The boys had their eyes widen as you saw the paper.

In a flash, Hanamaki picks up the piece of paper before you could grab a hold of it and you let out a gasp when he suddenly appeared in front of you. You blinked at him as he slowly walked away, wide eyed, to avoid conflict with the teacher.

You and Mattsun share a look together as you looked away, utterly speechless at what just happened. When you looked away, Mattsun hides his laughter by stuffing his face in his arm as Makkis cheeks never grew out of its red shade.

Meanwhile, Mattsun finally held a memory that he can never forget.

"It's not a big deal. You guys have been friends for so long. I don't think Y/N would mind." Iwaizumi comments making Hanamaki silent.

Can you really feel the same way?

A year of knowing you- should that be enough to fall in this deep? Is there even a requirement before someone can confess? Because in a span of time knowing you, there wasn't a moment where he regretted anything. He could thank the universe for one stupid pen, maybe even Oikawa. Everything that led to where you are now, he's never been more contented in his life.

During movies, your favorite spot was to lean your head on his shoulder. To just sling your arm around his waist on the way home, holding his hand while walking through crowds, it just fits. No matter where you were, what you were doing with him, it seemed like there wasn't an extra space in the puzzle pieces, it all connected.

But you two couldn't figure it out for yourselves.

"Well, does every confession need some sort of grand gesture?" He asks Iwaizumi. The ace bites his lips before kicking a rock on the path he was walking on.

"I don't really know. What does Y/N like anyway?"

"Hopefully me." Hanamaki jokes, but he deeply wanted it to be real. He figures if all of this asking for help was going to guarantee him something good, better yet, a yes from your lips. But first, he had to answer Iwaizumis question.

"She likes simple things- you know how she likes it when I like hold her stuff and all? She also likes those weird food thingys at one date-or hang out we had- you know that scent that reminds you of a romance movie-"

"Makki, you know her this well and you're nervous for nothing. I'm sure that she'll love whatever you do- you're friends for a reason." Iwaizumi says making Hanamaki sigh, hearing those words again.

"Exactly! That's the problem. Fuck- I can't even act like I don't like her. Am I being too obvious or friendly? I don't know where the line ends or starts. I shouldn't get nervous cause it's her- she doesn't care what I do- she's happy with whatever but I just want it to be.. perfect." He rants and ends it with a tired sigh. God, he was getting frustrated. At this point his feelings were overwhelming him, he just needed an outlet for it.

He can't just act like the sight of your smile doesn't make him smile as well, or even just seeing your sleepy state when you walk into class. If his heart didn't flutter whenever you were around, maybe by then you couldn't call it admiration but he just fell and there wasn't a way to stop him.

He didn't wanna stop either.

"Mattsun." You say as Mattsun lets out another laugh as you roll your eyes. It was after practice and since Takahiro couldn't walk you home because he told you he had to talk to Iwaizumi about something, Issei was the one to walk you home.

"This is gold." He states making you shove him a bit. He smiles when he sees you pout. This is where he decides. He could literally say how Hanamaki was asking him for advices like you are right now, but a side of him just wants to see what Makki could do. It was all too funny for him, even if hated how oblivious you two were.

If Hanamaki was falling for you with each day, you did the same. It was inescapable. You met him during second year and the fact that he had you tugging on your heart strings, it was something you can't ignore.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"I'm studying, 'Hiro. What's up?" You asked him as he raised an eyebrow at you. You stopped writing to look at him fully.

"We're at a mall." He states like you didn't know. It was bizarre to go to a mall cafe and your purpose was to study when you were with the spontaneous Hanamaki. That's on you for getting distracted on your strict teachers subject.

"Yes, Makki. I know that." He lets out a pft then takes the notebook of yours, closing it. Even putting on the caps of your pens and placing them back in your pen pouch. He also grabs your bag and placing all of those items inside.

You didn't stop him though. You've had enough with 'studying either way'. You'd die if saw how you weren't even taking notes, you were actually writing about how beautiful his eyes were. You were just purely lucky that he didn't care what you were writing because he thought it was about school.

"Happy now?" You asked him as he nods with a childish grin.

"Super. Let's go, cutie." Your eyes widened with his statement so you turn your head away to sling the backpack on your shoulder but he stops you before you could.

He removes his hoodie and hands it to you, making you stare at him.

"What for?"

"It's hot- well duh it's cold, Y/N. C'mon I wanna go to cinema. " He says nonchalantly as you take the hoodie and wear it. What causes you to stop midway was when he pulled down your blouse to prevent it from rising up when you wore his jacket. After placing your arms in, you blushed at minimal gesture.

It made Hanamaki let out a cough, when he did it like a reflex, not even thinking about it.

"Cutie huh?" You teased making him roll his eyes, though he was thankful that you broke the silence.

"Yeah no shut it."

There were many more memories that could list out why you liked him but maybe they just held the same reason.

"Leave him a note then if you can't say it in person." Mattsun suggests, even though he wishes he could've said something else. He doesn't know if that was a good suggestion or not. This could ruin whatever Makki was planning on doing. He should ask him about his plan later on so he can tell you what not to do in order for his best friend to succeed.

You reached the front of your house as you gave Issei a hug, to thank him. He pats your hair as your pull away from him.

"Hey, you've got this. It's you and Makki." He says smiling, assuring you. You nod at him as you sent a wave, him doing the same then walking away.

When you entered your room, your phone rang. Seeing Makkis name light up your room had you answering it in a heartbeat.

"Makki, what's up?"

"Hey, I just called to say I'm sorry I couldn't walk you home today. " He says running his fingers through his hair. He did want to walk with you but he trusted Mattsun. He couldn't waste the time Iwaizumi gave him for advice.

"It's fine, 'Hiro. Mattsun and I are fine." He smiles at what you said, while you left your phone on the nightstand you decided to change out of your uniform. While Makki decides on what to say next.

"Hey Y/N?" He calls for you, once you were done dressing up, you took the phone lying down on your bed.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go out, for real this time?"

"I'm gonna go sleep." He says, biting his tongue, despising how he couldn't say it. He hears you yawn on the other end of the line.

"That's a lie but night Makki Makki!" You said chuckling as his ears turned red at the nickname. He shakes his head with a smile.

"Goodnight, dumbie."

"Hey! I called you a decent nickname."

"Wow okay then. Goodnight, princess."

Hold up, he said what?

I said that?

He quickly ends the call before you could let out a comment on what he just said. A wave of panic rushes to him not knowing your reaction. You covered your face with the pillows the surrounded you, letting out a frustrated scream.

Fuck.

The morning comes and Hanamakis heart was racing like he going to attend a deadly match but in reality he was just going to confess. He's set all the things that he needed for today, mostly the materials but he himself wasn't nearly as ready.

He's going to wear a uniform. How the fuck do you make that look presentable and polished? Should he wear a new hoodie for you to wear afterwards? Just- how?

He's been staring at himself for too long then he hears his parents call for him saying that Mattsukawa was at his front porch. He sighs before grabbing his bag and heading out of his room.

"So you ready?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs. He wanted it to end right away but then again he wants things to slow down while he sees your reaction when does it.

"Fuck no. Iwaizumi helped me with a few things, he said something about gifts so I searched for some." Mattsukawa nods, as he thinks about what you were up to. Can it actually happen now? The two idiots would finally have the guts to confess on the same day?

"Honestly, this will be very entertaining. What time?"

"I was thinking kind of like after school." He says making Mattsukawa agree with him. It benefits the both of you. Never in a rush to admit, it could also give Makki some time to accomplish some of his plans.

"Do you think it'll go ok?" Hanamaki asks, almost nervous for his answer. Mattsukawa only smiles, knowing the possible ending.

"Yeah."

Betrayer. Oikawa thinks.

He lets out a pout of annoyance and when he spots you, he immediately walks over to you before Hanamaki could.

"Morning Oikawa! Have you seen-"

"Y/N-chan! I'll walk you to class today!" He says sweetly making you question in what was going on. He sees you peer your head over his shoulder, looking for Hanamaki which made him scoot a bit so your vision was blocked. Realizing that Hanamaki probably hasn't arrived yet, you shrugged.

"Okay, Tooru."

As Oikawa slings his arm around your shoulder, he could feel Takahiros stare as he walked with you. Even Iwaizumi had to double take on what he just saw.

"What's with him?" Hanamaki asks, feeling a slight burn in his heart when he sees you laughing with the pretty setter.

"I don't know, maybe he's just bugging her." Iwaizumi comments, making Makki roll his eyes. Mattsun takes notice of his behavior and lets out a chuckle.

"Aww, seriously. It's Oikawa! He's not going to steal your girl." Hanamaki blushes at his words and the boys eye his reaction, making them laugh at the change. Makki rolls his eyes before letting out a sigh, an act as if to reassure himself that things would go according to plan.

When Makki enters the room and meets your eyes, you already flash him a smile gesturing for him to seat with them. Oikawa sends a glare in his way making Mattsun lazily raise an eyebrow to the setter. Oikawa turns his attention to you once again, his chin on his palm as he stares at you.

"You're so pretty Y/N-chan! Wouldn't want that to go to waste do we?" Your ears couldn't really believe what you just heard. A sea of gasps echoed through the room when the compliment left Oikawas mouth. Murmurs of how luck you were started to spread and Makki was stood frozen.

"Flirting with my best friend isn't cute, shittykawa." Hanamaki comments, a distinct tone in his voice that didn't sound all too jokingly. The word best friend rings in your head as you actually felt a strike to your heart with his words.

How can you confess like this when you're down to rejection?

You felt like Hanamaki gave you a wake up call. Is this really the farthest you could go? Just friends? You let out a sigh, suddenly throwing away your previous plans of admitting your feelings for him. You gripped the pen in your hand as you tried not to be controlled by the pain.

Mattsukawa sees how your hand was trembling, replaying what Makki said, he nudges the boy next to him who was busy giving a cold shoulder to Oikawa. Mattsukawa prays that Hanamaki realizes what he just said.

Hanamaki feels the harsh nudge of his best friend making him look your way, a downcast evident in your features. Before he could ask you what's got you upset, the teacher walks in making Oikawa and Iwaizumi leave. Oikawa passes by Hanamaki making the tension even more noticeable.

Mattsukawa grips Hanamakis arm, to stop his mouth from sending a snarky comment and to hold him back from a glare. Hanamaki sits in his usual place as he ponders on what's gotten you this down. Was it Oikawa? What did he tell you? Could it be something that included him?

He sincerely hopes it doesn't involve him or else his hearts going to keep aching with jealousy.

What the fuck?

That was the only question that lingered in Hanamakis head.

Throughout the day, he figured that he'd be able to avoid you without you knowing what he was doing but instead, he found himself getting distracted in the fact that you sat with Oikawa between breaks. He couldn't even focus where to put the gifts in, he's totally forgotten about his locker and the possibility of you finding about it makes him panic.

He just hated how he feels the envy consume him. It took him a while to not give in to it. He had to continue, if he didn't- he would cower away. He wasn't going to waste another chance because of Oikawa, he can promise you that.

"You think Oikawa knew something? Maybe he's actually stalling you." Mattsukawa suggests, to remind Hanamaki that he was sure the setter isn't a barrier to his plans.

"He said something to her- I just know it. She's distant with me." He says tiredly, Iwaizumi leans on his arm to whisper to Hanamaki.

"Maybe he figured out you were going to confess." Iwaizumi says shrugging, Hanamaki shakes his head.

Are you turning him down then if this was real?

A way to softly push him away and tell him that your friendship mattered more?

If this was the case, he's leading his heart to a trap.

And it went like this until Makki had to confront Oikawa, sick of the change in you. It was practice time so he had the setter to himself. He knew you were waiting for him so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He just wanted to be yours already.

"Oikawa, what did you tell her?" He asks quietly. Even if his heart held its beat because of jealousy, he's sure that the boy he was talking to had no interest in you the same way he has. Oikawa has never shown you signs of love or any affection at all. Sure, it was fun to be around him but he looked at you as a friend, a company he can find comfort in but who's to say Makki doesn't feel nervous?

"I didn't tell her anything what are you talking about?" The boy answers making Makki sigh.

"She's avoiding me. It doesn't make sense then." Oikawa raises an eyebrow at Takahiros expression. He looked so- distraught. It starts to sink in him how the lack of your presence takes a toll on his friend and there was the tiny ounce of regret that hits his mind.

When he sees Hanamaki open his locker to reveal a boquet of flowers, his eyes widen. He then closes them immediately, cursing himself for the misunderstanding.

"Isn't that what you were supposed to give Aika?" He asks, his throat dwelling with nervousness. Hanamaki furrows his eyebrows, evidently confused in how their classmate who he is even close to, got dragged into the situation.

"What-"

"Shit."

"Oikawa!"

I hate running.

He says to himself whie doing it, he's never ran this fast before. God, now everything was at rush. He had to pack his things immediately, make sure the sweat didn't cling to him like it did. He even had to rummage through his locker to make sure everything was inside his bag. Mattsukawa was also frantic. Iwaizumi was calm enough to knock some sense into Oikawa after Hanamaki tells the news on what exactly happened.

So here he was running to your neighborhood, flowers and all because he'd be dumb enough to be the guy in Oikawas misunderstood scenario.

"Oikawa!"

"Wait okay fuck I'm sorry- I might have heard something wrong earlier." He says, a hand to the back of his neck. Hanamaki isn't sure if he should feel relieved that Oikawa doesn't have any admiration towards or feel the fucking rage to strangle him for whatever led to this.

"What exactly did you hear anyway?"

"I can't just give the flowers to Aika. I can't act like an admirer of hers, I have to confess to her myself." Hanamaki says sighing as Iwaizumi and Mattsukawa nods.

Oikawa turns his back on the trio as he frowns at the idea of you and Hanamaki not being a couple. It seems that his friendly gestures didn't actually hold anything else, he'd fallen for Aika instead. Though he feels slightly pissed that Hanamaki led you on in some sort of way.

Once he sees you, he immediately goes your way in order for you to not witness the heartbreak that was about to unfold.

"Oikawa, I was planning to confess to Y/N. Mattsukawa suggested that I try to give her the flowers anonymously at first by letting Aika bring it to her but like I said, I didn't wanna look like an unknown loser." Hanamaki lets out a puff of annoyance as Oikawa rests his hand on the boys shoulder, now that tiny ounce of guilt grew and grew.

"I'm really really sorry, Makki." He says sincerely, Hanamaki sighs before nodding at Oikaws, accepting his apology knowing Iwaizumi could lecture the boy after his slip up.

"I need to go to Y/N now." He says but Kindaichi looks at his teammate with a water bottle in hand.

"Y/N-san left hours ago." He says as Hanamaki sends a glare towards Oikawa then he looks at Kunimi just to confirm Kindaichis statement. Kunimi nods before returning back to his unbothered state. Hanamaki lets out a scream of frustration as he dashes towards Mattsukawa and Iwaizumi, Oikawa being dragged along by his shirt.

"Oi, did you two fight?"

"Long-story short he thought I was giving the flowers to Aika. Now please, lecture the damn asshole- I need to find Y/N." He basically hands Oikawa to Iwaizumi who already landed a ball to the captains head as he runs off to his locker to leave immediately.

He could never adore someone else when you remained to stay at the top of his list- since no other name follows it.

He pats down his sweat with a towel before drinking water then spraying his cologne all around him. He was in front of your room door since your parents gladly invited him in while he mentions to be quiet at the sight of the boquet of flowers in hand and now it's finally happening. He was either going to face a prize or a bucket of tears.

Here goes nothing then.

He knocks on the door as you continued to scroll through your phone but you spoke, "It's open!"

He opens it softly, before stepping in your room, closing the door in the process. You look up from your phone only to get the life knocked out of you when you see Hanamaki.

"Hey Makki-"

"Y/N please I just need to tell you something okay."

He takes the vacant spot next to you on your bed as both your hearts pounded loudly with each second. Your mind couldn't stop racing at what he was going to say if it was just flat out rejection, meanwhile Hanamaki doubts what he bought you. He carefully takes your hand with his, caressing it gently while your cheeks were heating at the moment.

"Y/N I-"

You roll your eyes before ending the call, not even caring to know who called. Meanwhile, Makki wanted to stop himself from coughing from the embarrassment.

The phone rings. Oh, fuck me.

"Go on- really sorry." You say with a slight chuckle, as he smiles, thankful you read the room at how nervous he was. Instead, he went to his bag to find a certain box. Once he finds the blue box, he takes your palm and places the object on it.

You smiled at him you opened the box, praying that you don't let out a squeal when you see what's inside.

"Paper rings?" You say chuckling as Hanamakis eyes widen, threatened to pop out of his sockets since he was in full disbelief. You laughed as Hanamaki tried to get the back from you but you ran from your bed to wear the damn thing.

"Y/N!" He yells trying to reach the box from your hands but your laughter echoes through the room.

You're too fucking cute for me. You think to yourself.

"It's a perfect fit on me, Takahiro." You say even holding out your hand with the paper ring as Hanamaki hides his face on a pillow, an attempt to hide the humiliation. He can never bounce back from this. Where was the actual matching rings that he bought? The one with yours and his initials were embedded on? Did he leave it on his desk when he was trying to figure out your ring size? He was truly fucked.

When you tried to reach for him, the ring broke since it was surrounded by tape and it didn't really held strength to it. Realizing that it was folded paper, you opened it seeing scribbles and doodles from Makki.

Y/N's ring size is 6 maybe 7?

Get the flowers that Iwaizumi suggested. Which flower was it again? The ones that symbols love? Fuck it.

Does she prefer me with this perfume or not?

She smells amazing all the time, I hate it.

God, I like her too much it's unbelievable.

I feel like I'm proposing to her but I'm not complaining.

You immediately drop the paper to look at him, switching your gaze between him and the paper. You hid your face in your hands as you wondered if this was actually reality. Hanamaki likes you back? Proposing? It was overwhelmingly cute.

Hanamaki lifts his head from the pillow and he sees you looking like you were embarrassed for him. He immediately goes to you, hands on yours as he tries to lift them off your face.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" He teases, hopefully it was able to grab your attention, and it did. You slap his chest from how flustered you were as he laughs before taking you in his arms, playing with your hair as your mind goes blank.

"Okay maybe the secret is out but I'm serious, Y/N. I like you- so fucking much it makes me wanna buy all the shit you want if we succeed in a heist- and I never wanna stop feeling this. The ring is crappy but I've got the actual one in my room so" He pulls away from your embrace as he lifts your chin to meet with his face who was intoxicatingly close.

"Do you accept my proposal of being my girlfriend?"

"If I said no?" You teased with a smile as he chuckles before locking his lip with yours, his hand finding its way to your cheek as you immediately kiss back, the pieces finally clicking in its rightful place. He deepens the kiss as your hand finds its way to the nape of his hair, pulling him closer while his own hands make a trip to your waist who he soon finds addicting.

He pulls away, caressing your cheek as your forehead touched, smiles plastered on either faces.

"I gladly accept, 'Hiro."

"Not like I'll take no for an answer, princess."

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hanamaki x reader #mattsukawa x reader #mattsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #oikawa tooru #hajime iwaizumi #aoba johsai #xine's world of romance

101 notes · View notes

svtshine · 3 years

Text

— The sun and its petals

pairing: Jeonghan x reader

genre: fluff, Royalty!au

type: imagine

word count: 6.1k

warnings: mentions of abuse and cursing

extras: Hi guys! In about a week, i won’t be posting as much. So if anyone of you guys would still like to request send in the ask by this week. thanku ^^

summary : When a prince meets a commoner.

The sun was high. The wind was a gentle howl, blowing softly through your hair as you stood up from the flowery fields. The basket in your hands were filled with bright coloured flowers.

You raised your hand to feel the sun ray, warm against your palm. You smiled, satisfied and closed your eyes. Taking in the scent of the oak trees and flowers surrounding you.

The wind blew stronger and your dress danced gracefully along with it. The weather was perfect. You sat down on the vast fields and gently braided some of the flowers you had collected. After some time, a mixture of soft blue and white adorned the crown of your head in a flower crown.

You twirled around, following the direction of the wind. As it guided you into a slow rhythmic dance. You imagined a man infront of you, offering you his hand and bringing you so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

The sun shifted as the day began to set. You watched the bright blue sky contort into a palette of pink and orange. You picked up your basket and walked the path that led you home. The majestic castle of the Yoons were in clear view, as you turned around. You raised your hand, almost as if you could feel it from where you stood, miles away.

Wishful thinking, you thought

You stared at the castle for a while longer, before turning around and leaving for home.

How you longed to find your prince charming. The one who would rescue you from the wretched hole you called “home”. You wanted someone who would whisk you off to a land far away, where no one would ever bother you again. Someone who could make you smile because you were genuinely happy.

But you smiled crookedly to yourself.

This was the sad truth of the world.

Happy endings truly belonged, only in fairytale books.

One you would never have a role in.

Jeonghan stared into the distance. The night sky resembled an abyss. The stars that twinkled in the distance was the only object that made him smiled.

With his chin atop his hand, he perched on top of the grand castle called his “home”.

Jeonghan knew this place like the back of his hand. He remembered the memories kept deep within him as he was growing up.

This used to be “home”. But now it was a cage, trapping him within.

Jeonghan smiled as a light wind blew his hair softly. He stared at the town below. Streets lighted up by lanterns and candles, there were hardly anyone out at this hour.

He longed to be free. He felt trapped in his own cage like a lonely bird. Jeonghan wanted to sprout his wings and explore, fly freely. He wanted to get to know his citizens, how they lived.

Jeonghan wanted a fantasy that wasn’t his.

Jeonghan raised his hand to feel the wind, trying desperately to reach the stars.

The entrance to the roof opened. Jeonghan didn’t bother to turn around till the newcomers spoke up while panting.

“Yah Jeonghan, we’ve been searching everywhere for you. You changed your hiding place again” Seungcheol panted out while wiping away his sweat.

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders and stood up to walk to his two closest guards.

“Your Majesty, you really have to stop running around, as much as you hate it here. I’ve lost so much weight running around to find you” Joshua said, playfully joking with Jeonghan.

Joshua and Seungcheol has been assigned to Jeonghan ever since they turned 16. Being the best of their training academy, they were both requested to guard the only prince of the kingdom.

They’ve been through thick and thin together and they were both Jeonghan’s best friends. Jeonghan has never liked being called formally by his two best friends. However, only Seungcheol was comfortable in calling him by his name since he was the oldest.

Jeonghan apologised to them in a joking manner and left for his room, hands in his pocket. They followed slowly behind him, knowing if he found a new place, he wanted to be alone.

Jeonghan stretched his arms as he passed by his father’s room.

“The date for his ball is arriving soon, by then he gets to choose his beloved.” His father spoke.

“But dear, i’ve already found good suitors for him. I’m sure he’ll like them” The voice is his stepmother made him furrow his eyebrow in disgust.

His father sighed heavily and stood up from his seat and walked up and down. “This is our tradition, we can’t take it away from him. i’ve promised him that”

“Sweetie, look at him, he’d sad, lonely. These suitors will be perfect for him, i know it, trust me.” She said slyly.

“Jeonghan would be able to find happiness faster” His stepmother whispered.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Really?” His father said. “Well i guess if that would make him happy—“

Jeonghan’s eyes widened and shook his head.

“Of course, my king” His stepmother replied, smiling maliciously.

Jeonghan clenched his fists tightly. He was not going to be the pawn of her game yet again.

That, he promised himself as he walked away back to his room quietly.

You woke up to the sun rays entering your room and the birds that chirped outside your window. You made the bed and quickly got changed into your daily dress.

You headed downstairs, dodging the empty bottles of alcohol on the floor. Your mother was collapsed on the couch, spread out and snoring loudly.

You cringed as you looked at the mess infront of you. It has become a daily thing, picking up your mother’s mess quickly so that you can make breakfast as fast as possible.

When you accidentally knocked over a bottle, the noise stirred your Mother awake. You didn’t dare look into her eyes as she screamed at you, “Hey! What’s wrong with you bitch. You’re so useless you can’t even clean? This is why your Father left!”

Tears filled your eyes as you bit your lips from crying out when she stood up and smacked you so hard you slipped and fell. Your Mother looked at you viscously. “Get up useless. Go open the damn store. Buy me more beer. Got that?” she said. When you nodded timidly she slapped you and shouted, “Speak you’re not mute”

“Y-yes Mother” She rolled her eyes and tumbled to her bedroom. You picked up the shattered glasses and the rest of the trash that littered your small living room.

Tears fell one by one and you hissed when you accidentally cut yourself. The blood dripped from your palm and landed onto the floor. Why, what have you done to deserve this you reflected.

Your Mother was not always a raging alcoholic. She was once a dignified women that brought a smile to everyone. She loved tending to flowers which also influenced you. When you were young, you would help her around the flower shop that was passed down to her by your grandfather.

She would teach all about gardening and taking care of plants gently and would even reward you with candy.

Your father was also a kind soul, he was a knight. When one of the allied countries required help, your father was sent to fight in a terrifying war. He never came back to the both of you, his last words, “I will always love the both of you. Always”

You were ten back then. He taught you how to read, write and play different instruments like the flute. You missed him dearly. After he left and never returned, your mother fell into a dark place of never ending hatred.

Blaming you for his disappearance, degrading your sole existence. Your Mother was never the same.

You made prepared breakfast and covered it so that she could heat it up later on before heading out to open up the shop.

It wasn’t the most fancy, neither were you earning the most. But it did get you food and basic necessities which were enough for you. You loved gardening and plants so it wasn’t a problem.

“Hi Mam, lovely dress as always” You greeted the people you passed by.

Your shop resembled a small greenhouse. You put on your apron and opened up the shop. As you were moving the different pots of plants, you couldn’t help but stare out, into the vast land. Flower fields, and a beautiful forest. You were blessed to have grown up in this kingdom

You just hoped that one day, you would get to enjoy all that, peacefully.

Jeonghan was bored. His Father, The King had made him eat with his Stepmother. A meal he has been avoiding since the last time. He played with his food and glanced out of the window, the city and people on display. How he wanted to live a life like theirs.

“Now Jeonghan” The king said. “In a week, you’ll be turning twenty one. It will be your time to choose your own wife, a queen. i would be stepping down as king. “

Jeonghan continued to stare out of the window

“Your dear stepmother has already picked out a few suitors she thinks will be good for you. But ultimately the choice is yours” His father said. Jeonghan turned his head to look at his stepmother.

Jeonghan knew of her bad intentions. As much he liked to cheat to win or outsmart others to get his way, she was playing a game of pure greed.

She blinked innocently at Jeonghan, and he wanted so much to throw up at her facade.

Jeonghan couldn’t take it anymore, standing up from his seat and bowing to his father. “Father, i will keep in mind your words. Please excuse me, i’m feeling unwell” with that, he rushed out.

Jeonghan rushed to his room and changed into a commoner’s outfit. The walls were suffocating him. The sun was inviting him, it was hard to resist.

He left a note telling Seungcheol and Joshua that he would be visiting town till night falls when they finally figured out that he was missing.

Which turns out, was not long.

Jeonghan smiled as he scaled the walls perfectly and running towards the secret exit he found recently. He heard the commotion as Seungcheol and Joshua rushed to find Jeonghan.

He ran as fast as he could and soon he reached the beautiful town. People were walking from places to different places. Shops were buzzing, people were getting their chores and jobs done.

At once, Jeonghan didn’t feel alone.

He walked around town, while trying to hide from the castle guards that were on high alert for him.

Jeonghan admired the different shops and simple food. He perked up at the voice of Seungcheol, “Jeonghan? Yah, come back here!” Jeonghan took off immediately, trying to find somewhere to hide.

There was a small flower shop near the corner, he immediately entered and shut the door behind him. He looked to find you holding a watering can, eyes widening at the sight of him panting.

Jeonghan was sure that he had never met someone as beautiful as you. However he raised his lips signalling for you to stay quiet. You stayed still, shocked by his abrupt arrival.

Jeonghan immediately went behind the shop when the entrance was opened roughly yet again, and you came face to face with what seems like a palace guard.

He must be hiding from them, you thought. You placed down the watering can ans kindly asked the guard. “Hi sir, how may i help you. A bouquet? Flower arrangement perhaps?”

The guard looked around the shop, “Is anyone else here by any chance? I need to find someone” He rushed out. You shook your head slowly, “i’m sorry, but it’s only me. I think i heard someone rushing towards that direction just now” You said pointing into a random direction.

The guard’s eyes perked up and he quickly thanked you. “Thank you, and i’m sorry for bothering you” You waved him off and watched him run in the direction you pointed.

“It’s safe. The coast is clear” You said. Jeonghan peeked his head from where he was hiding and looked left and right making sure you were correct.

You stared at the man who was dressed normally and he didn’t seem like a crook. Strangely you felt almost comfortable around him like you knew he wasn’t bad. “Who are you?”

Jeonghan stared at you for a little while before replying, “Jeonghan” His name sounded familiar but you just couldn’t remember. You took in his whole form, trying to figure out what could he have possibly done to have the guards chase him. It was like he read your mind, “A game with the guards” It didn’t make sense, but who were you to judge.

“Are you staying?” you asked Jeonghan

He thought for a little while, “Will you make tea?”

You smiled at his adorable request, “I’ll make tea”

As Jeonghan stood at his whole height, the sun shined across his face, making him look like a dream. “Then i’ll stay”

Since then, Jeonghan has been a regular at your flower shop. He left that day filled with warmth and happiness. The two you talked for the whole afternoon and didn’t even notice time has gone by so quickly. Jeonghan assisted you with some labour work as you tended to some customers.

You were a kind, beautiful woman. You listened intently when he talked about his thoughts of being trapped and even about his interests and goals.

“I want to travel, see the world beyond the horizon” Jeonghan mumbled as he stared out of the window. You stood beside him and listened. “I love this country, but sometimes i just want to spread my wings and fly”

He glanced at you for a second, his heart skipping as the array of sunset colours washed onto your face, making you look magical. The smile on your face told him that you agreed with him whole heartedly.

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I better get going then. See you tommorow?” He asked, his voice filled with hope. You smiled brightly and nodded. After he left, you quickly closed up the shop and left for home.

For the first time, you skipped back home while humming to a song. Going through the event of today as you smiled to yourself. Your time with the man named Jeonghan was short, but it was the most fun you had with someone for a long time.

Your smiled dropped a little as you heard crashes coming from the house. Sighing, you mentally prepared yourself for the blows that were going to come at you next.

“You bitch, you forgot my drinks” Your mother hit you for the tenth time in five minutes. you crawled away from her before she landed another blow on you. “You’re really just a piece of garbage. Why did i even give birth to you?” She screamed at you.

You whimpered as you shield yourself from the shards and glass bottles thrown at you. “Get out now, you better get those drinks if you don’t, don’t even try to come back here. There is no place for you” She boomed.

You quickly grabbed your bag and ran out. The crashes and her screaming were not getting any softer. You cried as you ran down the path, cradling your arm that was cut by the shards. You cried for yourself, for your father that died for your country and the small memories of your kind mother.

You bought the beers she asked for while wrapping your sweater around you tighter in the chilly night. The lights were still on but the house was quiet. You entered hesistantly. Her form was spread out on the couch like before. You left the new bottles on the table and left again. You couldn’t take it anymore, this place you once cold home was now just a horror house you desperately wanted to escape from.

You stayed at the flower shop for the night. Pulling out a hammock and staring through the window as you thought about Jeonghan’s words.

“Sometimes i just want to spread my wings, and fly”

That was your dream too.

Jeonghan got a stern scolding from his friends. Although he had to endure an hour of scolding, he didn’t fight back or disagree anyways. Meeting you was probably the best encounter he had ever had. He learnt about the different townfolks and most importantly about you.

Even thought it was barely two hours since he left, his heart longed to see you again. You caught his eye and he felt at peace with you.

Jeonghan looked out of his balcony and into the city, trying to catch sight of your small little flower shop.

He signed excitedly and let out a smile as he couldn’t help but be excited for the next dawn.

You woke up early the next morning, taking care of the plants and getting breakfast at a nearby coffee house.

“Hey hey hey, did you hear? The prince’s ball is this friday! Everyone maiden is invited we should go!” the girls beside you chattered. You took a sip of your tea and finished up your food.

You’ve always wanted to visit the castle. Watching it from afar has always been a hobby of yours, visiting it? Would’ve been the best.

But you sighed, you didn’t even have the dress for it. You left the table and went up the counter to thank the shop lady.

You were very close to her because she was one of the people who tried helping your mother when she was mourning for your late father. She would talk care of you whenever your mother went out of control but now that the shop was getting busier and you were getting older, you convinced her that your home situation was improving.

Lies

“Y/n darling, i heard about the ball. You should go, you’ve always wanted to visit the castle since young” She told you gently as you stayed to chat with her.

You shook your head and sent her a sad smile, “With all due respect, i don’t even have the dress for it. I can’t show up in this old dress” Lifting it up as evidence.

She shook her head and told you to wait. You rest your hand on the table and thought about Jeonghan yet again. You were beyond excited to see him again.

Without knowing, you smiled.

She returned holding a box. You lifted a brow at it, wondering why on earth did she randomly take it out. She winked at you and shooed you away, “Go back to the flower shop and open this. Have a good day my child. Come back soon!” You waved back at her, holding the slightly heavy box and lifting it to your shop.

You turned on the lights as watered all the plants before opening up the box. Inside was a ballroom dress of your favourite colour. Your eyes widened as you took it out and checked if it fit you. You twirled around, holding it to your chest.

The dress was absolutely gorgeous and it fit you perfectly. There was a note inside of the box as well as a pair of shoes matching to colour of the dress.

“For you, Child. The prince’s ball is a tradition, having three sons, i wouldn’t have the chance to make a dress for any of them. But i have long taken you as my daughter, Y/n. Change it however you like, but i hope you’ll have the fun time at the ball”

You covered your hand with your mouth at the surprise. Now you were able to attend the prince’s ball taking place in three days. You reminded yourself to thank the shop lady soon.

You quickly kept the dress and opened the shop officially.

You exited the shop to take a breath of fresh air. It was crisp and the wind was perfect. The sun ok your skin made you smile.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was not perfect.

“Jeonghan meet Princess (R/n). She was one of the matches we thought would be perfect for you” Jeonghan’s stepmother’s words made his skin crawl.

The princess infront of him was nothing short of a pampered brat. She raised her nails to check them and when she saw Jeonghan she immediately pressed herself onto him. Jeonghan immediately stiffened and he desperately wanted to run away right now.

Seungcheol and Joshua tried not to laugh at the corner while watching Jeonghan’s face contort into a mixture of disgust and cringe.

He knew of her, having taken studies about different royal families. Her family was stacked with good natural resources and connections with other rich families, no doubt making them one of the wealthiest royal families.

The king wrapped his arm around Jeonghan’s stepmother. “Now son, although we said that it would be your decision ultimately, we want you to spend some time with Princess (R/n). We’re positive, the two of you would have lots of things in common” Jeonghan looked steely at his Father and Stepmother, noticing how proud she looked of her scheme.

He clenched his jaw, as much as he hated his situation, hated his stepmother. Jeonghan respected his father and would do anything for him.

“Fine”

Jeonghan wanted to tear his limbs apart, the princess infront of him. The spoilt princess? was making him lose his eardrums.

“Last week, i got my pedicure and new dresses. But they gave me the wrong colour. I got so mad i told daddy and guess what!” She exclaimed

Jeonghan sighed out, “What?”

“Daddy fired her. isn’t he just the greatest?!” she continued wrapping herself tighter around him.

Jeonghan didn’t respond as his thoughts wandered to you. He knew he promised to return but he just couldn’t get out of this situation. Literally.

He remembered your kind voice, your beauty, inside and out. The way you talked about flowers and plants like it was the most exciting in the world. And how your listened to him even when he assumed no one could understand.

Jeonghan desperately wanted to see you. Talk to you, anything just as long as you were there.

He knew who he wanted to be his princess, his wife, his soulmate.

He wanted you.

Jeonghan thought of a quick plan, pulling his arm out of Princess (R/n)’s tight grip and quickly pointing to the castle and saying that he needed to do something else.

Which wasn’t a lie.

Jeonghan ran and ran to the secret exit, without changing out of his royal clothes and only wearing a cape he grabbed along the way.

He smiled as he ran down the familiar street to your flower shop.

It was nearly four when Jeonghan finally arrived. He was dressed smartly and almost royal like but hidden beneath a cape. He held up a bag.

“i brought snacks” On cue, your stomach rumbled.

The two of you munched on the snacks he brought and drank the tea you prepared.

“I’m sorry i’m late” Jeonghan said. “i got caught up with some, burdens”

You chuckled, he looked extremely disgusted with his “burdens”

“What’s with the fancy clothes hannie?” You asked, putting down your mug.

Jeonghan smiled at his given nickname, “I work for the royal family and things have been busy for the ball” His eyes widened, “Y/n, are you coming for the ball?”

You nodded excitedly, “I wasn’t planning to, i didn’t even have a ball gown” you laughed. “But one of the kind ladies made me one. It’ll be fun visiting the castle, even thought it’ll probably be my only time visiting.” you smiled sadly at the last part.

Jeonghan listened to you attentively. You turned to look at him, “Are you going to be there?”

“Of course”

You smiled. “So will you offer me a dance?”

Jeonghan smiled back. “Make that hmm” he said before pausing, furrowing his eyebrows like he always thinking about something hard and tapping on his chin lightly. “five dances”

Your eyes widened in shock before Jeonghan laughed at you. You pouted and slapped his arm

“You should’ve seen your cute face” he said, holding onto his stomach.

You blush heavily at his comment.

Finally the day of the ball came. You’ve been slightly adjusting the dress so that it’ll fit you better. You twirled in the shop with the dress. You haven’t been home since a few days ago, but so that your mother wouldn’t bother finding you, you have been leaving alcohol infront of the house.

You knew if she saw you in that dress, she would’ve never let you go.

You picked went outside the shop, to be met with the shop lady and her son. Her son was like a brother to you and he happened to have a carriage and offered to send you to the castle.

The shop lady shed a few tears as she sent you off. You gazed out of the small window of the carriage. Mountains and clear sparkly water in view.

Your feelings the reflection of that. You felt confident, tall and excited.

Jeonghan smiled and hummed as he got ready, he couldn’t wait to see you. He knew if he had shown how much he cared about you and not about the other princesses or ladies, his father would’ve let him be.

He imagined your ball gown, you and him dancing together just like her promised. Jeonghan stared at the mountains and the clear sea infront of him. Stretching his arms and taking a deep breath, he left the room and headed for the ball room.

You stood amongst the other ladies in the ball room. It was fascinating. Gold spreading almost everywhere in the room giving it a majestic glow and the decorations were top notch.

You walked around the corridors secretly as you couldn’t hold in your curiousity. That was until a hand tapped on your shoulder and you whipped around to find Jeonghan infront of you.

He was dressed handsomely and you could’ve melted into a puddle right there. But you held yourself steady, leaned into his touch as he brought you in his arms.

If he hadn’t told you he worked for the king, you could’ve easily mistaken him for the crown prince.

“You shouldn’t be here y/n” his breath against your forehead and placing a gentle, soft kiss. “The prince is going to enter the ball soon”

You giggled shyly and mumbled, “sorry i was just curious” He smiled at your cuteness but shooed you away.

“Now hurry along, you have to catch the prince” he stared at your figure as you hurried back to the ball room.

“Nice choice. I always thought the florist was one beautiful lady.” Seungcheol said as he smiled.

Joshua on the other hand went up and asked, “Is she the one?”

“Oh boy, she’s definitely the one” Jeonghan mumbled happily, his eyes filled with adoration at the thought of you.

Seungcheol and Joshua smiled, satisfied.

“The Prince will now take his place on the throne before choosing a partner for his dance” One of the royal staff announced.

You realised you haven’t actually seen the prince, the royal family was very secretive about the media. You glanced up at the thrones seated above the floor.

“Please bow to His Majesty, The Crown Prince, Yoon Jeonghan” Your eyes immediately widened. Your mouth dropped and even thought you instinctively bowed you kept your eyes on Jeonghan.

His eyes were already on you, he smirked at you and waved to the rest. There he was, standing proud in the crown and handsome as ever. Your heart started beating faster.

As Jeonghan climbed down the stairs from the platform, his eyes were still on you. Never moving away.

A path was made by everyone as he walked onto the floor. It was completely silent as everyone watched his every move.

Who was he going to pick?

it wasn’t hard for Jeonghan as he made his way slowly to you. Everyone stared as he stopped infront of you. You were frozen for a split second before you remembered to curtesy.

Jeonghan said in the gentlest voice, ringing through the whole room. “Would you do me a pleasure, and dance with me?” Everyone gasped as you nodded and he kissed your palm affectionately.

The music started playing. A soft tune, a gentle melody. Everyone stared at the two of you as you placed your arm around his shoulder and he moved his other arm around your waist.

It was like everyone else beside you disappeared as he spun you around. You were lost in his dark brown orbs and his scent that made you want to hug him as tight as possible. It was hazy yet the only thing you could see clearly was Jeonghan.

“Y/n?” you continued to stare at him.

His arm on your waist tightened slightly as he pulled you in closer to whisper in your ear

“You look absolutely stunning darling” you looked away shyly.

“I also forgot to mention, i’m the prince” He winked. You pouted and shook your head at him.

“To me, you’ll always be Jeonghan. The handsome, gentle yet playful man i’m in love with” You said as he twirled you around.

Other partners started to dance around the two of you. The music changed, a different song but the same soft vibe

“Then would you, Y/n L/n give me the honour, and be my queen?” Your eyes widened at his request. He glanced at you nervously and your eyes started to water. You pulled him in and hugged him tightly as he spun your around.

“Yes! yes! yes! i will” Jeonghan smiled widely as he pulled you away from the ball room to the throne platform to meet his Father.

“Father is going to love you as much as i do Y/n, which is a lot” You giggled at his words.

He presented you with a proud smile, his arm around your waist protectively. “Father, this is Y/n. Y/n, er the king, my father”

you curtsied you His Majesty and the Queen as Jeonghan continued, “I’ve decided and have the permission from her” His eyes on you, “to take her as my wife, the future queen”

“No” His stepmother said harshly. Her eyes were cold and glared daggers at you. “You will not marry this low-life. Bringing dishonour and embarrassment to the royal family? Unacceptable” She said. She then pointed to you, “Especially this one. Her mother is nothing but a raging alcoholic, wasting her life away. She could only be pretending to be kind to you because of your wealth”

Jeonghan glared back at her and his grip on you tightened. “You are in no position to tell me what to do Stepmother. Of all people, you’re the one telling me to be scared of gold diggers like you? Maybe you should be teaching that crash course to father. Who was decieved by you” He said in a serious manner.

You glanced away. Jeonghan’s stepmother’s words reminding you of the way your own mother treated you.

“You’re really just a piece of garbage. Why did i even give birth to you?”

You let go of Jeonghan.

“Hannie” catching Jeonghan’s attention.

“She’s right” you said lowly

Jeonghan whipped his head to you as you smiled sadly at him, “E-even if we do get married, i won’t be able to give you anything. You really deserve someone better” Jeonghan shook his head, his arm reaching to catch hold of yours as you started running to the entrance and back home where you were sure Jeonghan wouldn’t find you.

“Y/n wait-- no please” Jeonghan shouted after you. Joshua and Seungcheol following behind. You immeditately boarded the same carriage you came from. The shop lady’s son looked back ta you for a moment with worried eyes. The tears started to fall as you were sent back home.

Jeonghan tried chasing after you on his horse but his stepmother and Father told the guards to close the gates before he had the chance to leave.

“Jeonghan, you’re better off without her” his stepmother tried convincing him. His father studied Jeonghan’s behaviour. “Let’s go and meet the other suitors--”

“No” his father said

The king went up to Jeonghan, ‘’I’m sorry i didn’t see it before son, now go after her” He then turned to his wife, “I can’t believe i ever saw kindness in you. Your heart is made of greed and believe me, you’ll get what you deserve. In jail”

As the guards took away the screaming ex queen, The king turned to Jeonghan. “I was close to Y/n’s Father, he was one of the best guards we ever trained. After sacrificing himself in the war, his wife, Y/n’s mother, fell into a dark place. They were a kind family and i bellieve Y/n has a heart of gold considering she thought of your needs before hers”

Jeonghan nodded and he realised exactly how strong you were for all these years. He quickly left to find you. You weren’t at the flower shop so he asked around about you.

“Her cottage is near the fields, why? what happened to Y/n” A shop lady asked him. But he took off before he could answer her.

His horse raced through the night as his mind went back to you. Your small acts of kindness, to him, to the townfolks. You went throught so much when you were younger, you’ve been alone and by yourself the whole time. But now, he wanted to be beside you, go through everything with you.

Your sad smile flashed in his mind, he never wanted to see a similar expression from you again.

Even after learning your history and family situation, Jeonghan wanted you more than ever.

He caught you walking towards a lit cottage, rubbing your arms up and down to keep warm.

“Y/n!” you turned behind, recognising his voice. You stopped in your tracks as he dismounted his horse and came up to you.

“You don’t have to give me anything. You’ve already given me enough, more than enough” Jeonghan whispered. You began to shake your head but Jeonghan continued, “I only need one thing from you, your love” You teared up again

“But your stepmothe--”

Jeonghan scoffed at the mention of her, “Darling, i believe you mean that golddigger. Yeah my dad finally saw how greedy she is and now she’s gonna rot in jail” He took hold of your hands, “But forget about her, what will your answer be?” You stared into his eyes, you knew he was going to make you happy.

“Would you take a girl like me” you asked him softly.

“Y/n sweetie, you could wear a potato sack and still look like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met”

“Then i’ll be your queen” Jeonghan carried you and spun you around. He brought you closer to him, his hand rubbing your cheek and finally sealing the promise with a kiss

“Honey? I need some help with your son” Jeonghan chuckled again and got out of his seat in his office. He wrapped an arm around your pregnant figure and greeted you with a kiss.

“Playing hide and seek again?” You pouted

“The castle is too damn big for me hannie” Jeonghan shook his head and ran around. “Now where is my little prince?”

You smiled as Jeonghan caught your son and twirled him around. Rubbing your tummy, you realised how perfect your life had become. Recently, your mother finally started to limit her drinking and even started to work at the flower shop again with your abscence.

She apologised for the way she has treated you and although the two of you weren’t very close, you were happy with her improvement and even learnt to forgive her.

The previous king started travelling the world and occasionally visiting and bringing presents for his grand kid and children. He had taken a liking with you quickly and saw you as his daughter.

Seungcheol and Joshua has also became very close to you and your son. With Joshua teaching him music and linguistics and Seungcheol training him in various sports.

Your son came up to hug your leg, “Mummy, mummy! Daddy found me..You took too long”

“What are you thinking about?” Jeonghan whispered to you. All of you stared outside the window.

“Nothing, i was just thinking about how much i treasure you guys.” Jeonghan nuzzled into your neck

“I finally feel free”

#seventeen #jeonghanxreader #caratwritersclub #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #Jeonghan x reader fluff #seventeen royal au #seventeen royal #prince!seventeen #prince!jeonghan

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blissfulparker · 4 years

Text

Seasick pt.5→P.P

Pairings→college!peter parker x reader

Summary→ when you give one lie to your mom that you have a boyfriend, she ends up buying an extra ticket for a cruise you guys are going on. Now you’re stuck looking for a fake boyfriend and eventually drag peter in. Except you and peter both like each other and don’t know how long you can last pretending.

Warnings→ none except mentions of a dick

A/n→ wow two parts in one week! This is pretty lengthy with 3k words and that’s how long the rest are going to be! I hope you enjoy please leave your thoughts and feedback I would love to hear it!🥰💗✨

Previous part here

Peter was gone for hours, he left you alone to collect yourself. He came back at one point to get his trunks to go swimming but when he came back you were gone. So he left again knowing it was not best to search for you, laid by the pool for a bit before heading back in when it was dark. He opened the door to see you with a movie on, laying in bed with a plate by your side and fries in your hand. You look over at him, he's wearing black swim trunks and a towel is over his shoulder.

“Hey.” you told him and he sees how your attitude completely changed.

“Hey.” he doesn't want to push it. If you want to tell hi, you'll tell him.

“I ordered you a burger, no onions and cheddar cheese. Extra fries and a coke” you tell him. You remembered what he didnt like on his burgers, how he liked it exactly. “It's in the microwave.”

“Thanks.” he drops his towel by the door. He makes his way to the dresser to get some clothes, you listen to him walk into the bathroom and turn the shower on.

Day one. Completed. A full day and he still has six left. Six left and he doesn't know what to do. He kissed you, he kissed you as a fake boyfriend, not a real one.

He can still feel your lips on his, he feels how soft they were and even though he enforced the kiss, you were really good at going along with it. If he kisses you again, and again and again, he doesn't know how much he can take until the true peter comes out. He couldn't run to Ned for help, he could but Ned was on vacation too. Ned was just on a much different vacation. One where he wasn't being an actor.

He turns the shower off and grabs a towel, he steps onto the towel and scrubs his hair. He then hears a faint vibration. Your phone, you left your phone in the bathroom.

MJ: Was he at least good?

Betty: peter seems like a good kisser

MJ: i would be surprised if peter knew how to kiss (y/n) without freezing up

You told them. Of course you told them. But did MJ tell you about his crush on you? She was drunk and it was after a party, he was pretty drunk too for his liking. He barely even said anything, she figured it out with one harsh glance and mention of you. But she wouldn't tell you, would she? Even for MJ that's too cruel.

He drops the phone on the counter quickly as he opens the door in a crack to answer you.

“I left my phone in here.”You try not to look down, he's wet and has a towel over his waist. Looking down would ruin everything.

“Right,” he turns to grab the phone then hands it to you. “Here.” you take the phone from his hand feeling his fingers gently touch yours. You give him a soft smile as he shuts the door back up. Soon enough he's opening the door again to come eat. When he's comfortable in bed he looks over at you, scrolling through your phone and occasionally looking up at the screen.

“I'm sorry about earlier.” he tells you and you look over with confused eyes.

“About what?” your voice sleepy and you eyes still seem to be glossy from the tears but the eye cream seemed to do a good job covering it up.

“Your sister, your mom, everything.” he says and you take a deep breath in.

“Im use to it, i dont really need to hear pity about it. Thank you though.” you tell him and he presses his lips together.

It goes silent for a moment before you begin to talk again. “I should probably let you know more about the next few days.” now she's letting me in? He thinks to himself.

“Tommorw will probably be our only normal day together so if you want to go do something then go ahead, wednesday we land in the bahamas. My family always eats at the same restaurant so ill order for you, we should actually probably find food to share because my sister was right we should be like madly in love. We stay mainly on the boat but we go on and off of it, we stay in the Bahamas for two days then we come back on friday night and head back to florida shore and then boom, by sunday night we should be back in new york.” you tell him with a soft pat on the shoulder before stealing a fry.

“Wait, wait, wait.” he shifts to face you. “You're telling me this thing lands?” he raises his brows and you nod.

“Yeah, Peter, I thought I saw you reading that silly pamphlet of yours did you not see that we go to an actual island?” you ask him and he nods sticking another fry in his mouth.

He finishes eating in silence. He sets his plate to the side before getting up and going to the bathroom to brush his teeth. You're already laying in bed, rolled over to the side just waiting for Peter to get back so you can fall asleep.

“You can sleep with your shirt off.” you mumble into the pillow. He stops his movements, thinking you're asleep he looks over.

“What?” he asks and you roll to face him.

“I don't care if you sleep with your shirt off, all boys practically do it. I don't care if you do it or not. Whatever you're most comfortable pete.” you tell him rolling back to your side. He waits until you're asleep, dead asleep to take off his shirt and be comfortable. He doesn't lay too far, he can feel your legs move under the covers and closer to his side and at first he jerks them away, at second he lets his legs entangle with yours. Even if what your aunt said two nights ago was to boyfriend peter, he knew you needed someone to take care of you, you deserved it.

The sun peeks through the curtain. Peter is the first to wake and if it's possible he slept longer than last night. He rubs his eyes and falls deeper into the pillow. If there was no family drama, no fake relationship, no overwhelming stress of when to touch you to prove a point. If it were just a simple vacation with a friend, he should love it.

A knock on the door disturbs him from his peaceful fantasy. The knock gets louder and louder and turns more into a bang.

“Peter,” you moan into the pillow. Your foot jerks away from his as you slowly get up. “Can you get the door?”

“No way I’m basically naked.” He looks down at himself seeing hes shirtless. No he wasn’t naked but he didn’t need to put any ideas into your families mind.

“Wake up love birds.” It was your sister. You groan not wanting to deal with her this early. With the shit the both of them pulled yesterday, you don’t want anything to do with them.

“Wait,” you turn to him and scratch down his sides.

“Ouch! What the hell!” He tries to push you off but you know exactly what you’re doing.

“She’s already on to us.” You tell him as you then get off and mess up your hair to open the door.

“Good morning!” Maya spoke with a chirpy voice. Peter really didn’t understand how someone could be ready so early in the morning, be done up to look like a supermodel at 10am. “Did I interrupt something?” She peeks in to see Peter's chest and hair, his face slight tint of red as he sits there.

“Oh you would’ve heard him.” You look over at Peter who’s already reaching for his shirt. “I mean those fingers working at computers all day...he makes it light work.” You are more confident knowing that she doesn’t know. Peter thinks you almost enjoy lying to your sister.

“S-shes just joking…” he gets up and puts his arm around your waist. “She just wants to embarrass me.” He laughs and maya almost Mimics it.

“Hmmm. You know I love you.” You lean in to plant a kiss on his cheek. You hope she’s uncomfortable enough to make her leave.

“Good thing I had mom bring in those condoms right.” She tells. Of course it was her, how could you be so stupid. She probably told your mom lies about you and peter which made her worry.

“Oh they don’t fit, we had to get some more last night.” You wink to her and she looks down at peter and he’s now red.

“Wow—“ she starts but peter has taken his hands off you already.

“Okay, I’m going to take a shower.” He looks at the two of you before leaning into kiss you quickly to really sell all of it.

“Well, I came by just to say how mom didn’t have anything planned so I took it into my own hands and signed you and peter up for that couples painting class I told you about.” She’s playing a game. Maya was more obvious than your older sister. She liked to play little games on you, watch you fall quickly, as your older sister, Arden, liked to wait for her grand moment of tearing you down. You knew she was going to tear you down, you just didn’t know when. She was the one you feared the most. Maya would just play little games.

“Oh, no, peter and I have already planned—“ you start to explain but she puts up her hand.

“Too late it starts at 3!” She tells you and then goes over to the door. “Go take care of him, I think he’s waiting for you.” She winks before opening the door and shutting it.

You take a deep breath in, bite your lip before going over to bang on the door for peter.

“You can come out from hiding now.” You tell him as you flop back down on the bed.

“What was that?” He asked in more of shock.

“What was what?” You look at him confused.

“You just-sex? That’s what you went to?” He asked and you nodded confused as to why he was confused.

“She was going to question, look, peter, to make a lie more believable you have to be embarrassing. No one is perfect or innocent. We couldn’t just be like middle schoolers the whole time.” You told him picking up your phone.

“Couples painting class at 3.” You tell him and he is now even more scared. He hates painting, he can’t do it, he thought today maybe he would have fun. “Mom just texted me and said Thursday we’re going snorkeling. Look I promise you, friday is yours, you can do whatever you want. Want me to leave you be? I’ll do it. I promise.” You told him and he came and sat down on the bed with you. Snorkeling sounded fun, he’s never done it before, he’s also never done a couples painting class.

“I never said I wanted you to leave me alone. I’m actually having a lot of fun.” He promised you and you gave him a look.

“Two minutes ago I was talking about your penis and yesterday my sister tried to interrogate you. That’s fun?” You asked and he held his biceps and looked around.

“Well...no...but I’m on a free cruise so I don’t really think I get room to complain about anything.” He tells you and you laugh and place your hand on his shoulder before getting up.

“It’s okay to say you hate them peter, I hate them too.” You went over to the closet where you filled it with your own clothes.

“Was I good?” He asked and you look over at him.

“At kissing?” You’re shocked that he asked because the real answer is yes, please let’s do it again. But the answer you’d give him is no, it was okay.

“No,” he laughs a little. “At that interaction.” He said and you look down.

“Oh, yeah right. You were great.” You told him and picked out an outfit to wear. You grab your bathing suit only assuming you’d find the pool later.

“Good.” he hums and touches a scratch on his arm. “You know i suck at painting.” he calls out to you as you shut the bathroom. You don't answer so he feels defeated. He falls back into the bed wanting to shut his eyes and just fall back asleep. But this was all for you, all of this was for you.

Never did peter ever think he would find himself in a painting class, a small canvas in front of his face surrounded by other real couples. You seemed so calm and natural about everything while he was stressed and tensed up.

“Relax peter,” you lean into him so not a lot of people can hear. “Half of these people suck at art too.” you squeeze his shoulder before listening to the instructor.

He looks back at you in awe, today you wore shoes with a slight heel. You're taller than him but he kind of likes it. You wear glasses instead of contacts which he barely ever saw you do. Sundresses and skirts seemed to be your style on this whole trip even though he never would've taken you as the type of girl to wear that stuff. He's caught in your beauty. Right now he looks at you and thinks if this was real, he would've loved this cruise more than anything.

“Peter,” you snap him out of his thoughts. “Peter.”

“Sorry.” he clears his throat, blinking a few times before picking up the paintbrush in a fist. There is a picture of an island on the projector. He only assumes that's what he's supposed to do.

“No, peter.” you stop him before he starts. You come behind him and take the brush from his hands, you reposition it for him to be more comfortable and he's tense under your touch. “Like this, like a pencil, just relax.” you help him guide the paint across the canvas before you let go and let him do it on his own.

“S-so um…” he scrunches his eyebrows a bit before speaking. “Your sister said the other night something about you wanting to transfer?” he asked and you let out a sigh, one you thought went unnoticed but he heard.

“I was going to,” you started, washing your brush in the water before continuing. “But i changed my mind and stayed.” you told him. He tried to focus on his painting but it was hard. He really sucked at art.

“But why? Don't you like columbia?” he asked.

“I do. I do. It was just the change I guess I don't really know. I say something to them once and it's like I've promised it.” you say with a more bitter tone and he blinks a few times before going back to his paints. He knows not to push it.

“So you're staying?” he asked to make sure. You look over with a soft smirk, so many questions like he's your actual boyfriend.

“Yes Peter, I am staying.” you tell him before turning back on your own work.

The two of you finish painting in silence. The class is only an hour, an hour of your day and maybe you could get yourselves out of dinner with your family. Maybe you can find an excuse to get out of dinner.

“Wow.” he says in shock as he sees your painting. “You're really good.” he feels red as he is embarrassed to show his.

“Here.” you give it to him. “Think of it as a ‘sorry i dragged you onto a ship where my crazy family thinks you're my boyfriend’.” you hand and he laughs a little before taking the painting from you and showing you his. He was right, he wasn't that good at painting but he tried and it was cute.

“It's terrible.” he said, hiding his face a little.

“I like it, it’s very peter.” you told him. He didn't know exactly what it meant but he just smiled and nodded. The two of you left the studio, feeling the most relaxed you've felt this whole time.

“Text my mom.” you tell him as you lock the door of the hotel room.

“What?” he looked at you.

“Text my mom and tell her I'm sick.” you told him and he looked ever more confused.

“Why can't you text her?” he looks at you and you flop on the bed.

“Because you're my boyfriend and I'm sick. Boyfriends take care of their sick girlfriends.” you told him again before handing him your phone to text and making sure he signs it with his name.

You lay on the bed, Peter lays next to you and you roll to face him.

“Have you ever hated May for something she did?” you look at him and he is taken aback.

“N-no. I mean sometimes she's a little much but she just wants to protect me.” he told you. His fingers play with the loose thread of the pillow. He lets out a soft laugh before speaking again. “Your mom reminded me of the time I bought condoms for the first time and she embarrassed me for hours about it. She just wanted me to be safe and all, it made me mad but she just wanted to protect me.” he tells you and you laugh a little.

“Sometimes i wish my mom was like that. I think she sees us as her friends more than her children sometimes.” you tell him and he falls onto his back realizing that's why you hated all of this. Your family wasn't like his, hence he didn't have much but May saw Peter as a son while your mom sees you as a best friend.

“I'm gonna take a nap.” you tell him feeling the wash of sadness and vulnerability wash over you. “Order anything you want, do whatever you want.” you tell him before you fall to your side getting comfortable.

Peter looks at you for a moment. He wants to wrap his arm around you, protect you but he can't.

He moves some hair before he gets up on his own. Thinking about how this was one of his few moments where he could get out away from your family so he was going to lay out by the pool and bring back some food for the two of you later. His few moments where things could be normal.

The next morning he is woken by the feeling of you shaking him, the feeling of you pushing his hair back and stroking his cheek.

“Wake up sleepyhead.” you giggle a little. His vision blurry but he can see your sister sitting in the corner of the room, taking up the desk chair with a smirk. She's wearing a pink bikini and you've got sunglasses on the top of your head.

“Mmmh,” he groans, rolling over to the side. “What time is it?” his voice deeper than normal, cracking a little as he looks out the window and can see and island.

“He's always a little cranky in the morning, pulling me closer, sometimes he'd make us late to class if you know what I mean.” you share a laugh with your sister and he rubs his eyes.

“Morning pretty boy.” you tell him with a kiss to his cheek.

You're wearing a flowing see through sun dress, he can see the color of the red bikini through it that makes him swallow hard.

He quickly realizes your sister is actually in the room, he didn't imagine it. She's in the room and sees him practically half naked under the sheets. He wraps himself up and sits up in the bed. It didn't help the first thing he saw in the morning was you in a see through dress and a bikini.

He feels the tightness in his pants not going away. He wants you to tell her to leave so he can get up and go to the bathroom to properly deal with it.

“Mom wants us all down by 11, and then we should only be there for a few hours then we're going to meet at the place we always do and then come back on ship and tomorrow there is nothing planned.” she gets up from her chair and walks over to the door.

“Okay.” you smile at her before she looks at peter, she looks at him more intensely like she's trying to figure him out.

“Take care of your boy.” she winks and Peter's face burns red. The door clicks shut and your smile drops.

“So she got a fucking key.” you walk over to the dressers vanity to start on your hair.

“What?” he asked, still in his uncomfortable position.

“Yeah, they give extra keys at the front desk, families can get ones to other family members' rooms.” you shut your makeup bag and turn to him. “What are you doing?” you give a strange look.

“What do you mean what am I doing?” he asks.

“You're gripping the sheets, staring at me like you're scared?” His face goes red before he groans.

“I just need to go to the bathroom. That’s all.” He spoke quickly and you furrowed your brows.

“Then go.” You tell him and he swallows hard.

“(Y/n).” He says more sternly.

“What!” You laugh a little then look down at the sheets, why he’s trying so hard to cover his lower half. Morning wood. “Oooh…” you laugh a little bit and hold back since he’s embarrassed. “Did I do that?” You ask and he groans rolling his eyes.

“Are you being serious right now?” He asks and you move away from the table over to the door where your bag is.

“I mean, yeah. Did I do that? You’ve seen a girl in a bikini before right parker?” You joke and he flops back on the bed.

“No, you didn’t. I just had a dream. And yes I’ve seen a girl in a bikini before.” He says and you point.

“May, MJ, and Betty don’t count. The internet doesn’t count either.” You tease and he grabs your pillow and throws it at you. He misses and it crashes into the door.

“I had a girlfriend for a year who was real so yeah, I’ve seen a girl in a bikini and much less.” He tells you. Your heart doesn’t mean to hurt when he mentions his ex but it kind of does.

“Right,” you reach for the door. “I’m getting coffee, do you want anything while you work out your problem?”

“Get. Out.” He points to you and you laugh as you pull out your phone.

“I think I’m gonna text Ned.” And with a wink you’re gone. He falls back into the pillow still upset that it’s there and it is caused by you. If he can’t handle seeing you simply like that, or wrapped in a towel after a shower, he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive scuba diving with you all day.

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xxmackenziexx · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: We meet reader’s mom and see their super cute dynamic, we also see a new side of Bucky both from his perspective and readers.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual tension, angst, implied masturbation

Word Count: 2,192

A/N: This chapter was originally a lot longer but I took out a big chunk to make myself feel better. More references to the movies/characters, lemme know if you catch them!!

*knock knock knock*

You slowly opened your eyes, wondering if the noise you heard was real or a product of the fitful half-sleep you got, thanks to your stupid best friend, with his stupid muscles and stupid sexiness you only realized was even present last night.

"Honey, are you awake?" Your mom opened your door and peeking her head inside.

You sat up and yawned. "Yeah momma, what's up?" rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Walking to your closet, your mom picked out a plain long-sleeved grey knitted shirt that had a red star emblazoned on the front, a pair of black leggings, and a grey skirt that landed just above your knees. Bringing them over to you she sat on your bed "Just figured it was time for you to wake up, that's all. James' game is today, and I've got some errands to run before I can make it back to pick you up and take you. I want to make sure you're dressed and ready before I leave."

You smiled at your mom. God, you loved her. She has gone through hell and back and still came out of it with a smile and endless love for you. "Okay...but you didn't have to pick out my clothes for me. Geez." You joked with her, rolling your eyes. "Actually, I need to head over to Bucky's here in a bit because I think I left my wallet over there. He says he couldn't find it, but you know how he is." Giving your mom a knowing look.

She nodded in agreement, smiling. "Okay, well I leave in about 15 minutes. So, get up and do...ya know...the human things. Get dressed, brush hair, teeth. Yadda yadda." She gestured with her hands.

You snorted with laughter at how weird your mom was. But you absolutely loved her sense of humor. It was quirky and you loved it. "Okay, go away and let me do the human things. God you humans are weird. Why did I ever land here, let alone decide to stay?" Knowing she'll laugh at your 'I'm an alien' quip because it's a long-standing inside joke.

She got up from your bed, placed a kiss on the top of your head, and headed to your door calling out "Later loser, love ya!" And throwing the peace sign over her shoulder. You chuckled at her. God, she was weird.

You got out of bed, having forgotten about your pining for the boy next door. You quickly got dressed, wearing the outfit your mom picked out because why not? You put on a pair of black boots that reached mid-calf and decided, why not go all human today and do your makeup and hair? So that's what you did. You dug out the curling iron from deep in your bathroom cabinets and twirled your hair to the point you had subtle curls in your hair, nothing too crazy but enough of a change that you liked it. Next, you decided to add some black mascara and eyeliner, a small amount of blush, and a matte dark red lipstick that matched the star on your sweater.

Looking in the mirror and surprising yourself, you decided that was as human as you'll get today. Laughing at yourself for the dumb joke your mom made. You grabbed your black leather jacket because you had an unhealthy obsession with the James Dean-greaser-bad boys from the '50s. Resigning yourself that this was it for the day, you grabbed the purse you rarely used and made the small walk to Bucky's, not sure if he was home or with the team already.

You knew his folks weren't home, so you used your spare key and let yourself in, locking the door behind you and making your way upstairs to Bucky's room to search for your wallet. Not seeing any evidence of him being home you threw your purse on the couch and stood, scanning the room as the memories and feeling of yesterday started creeping their way back into your mind. You sighed at yourself and rolled your shoulders, determined not to relive the weirdness of yesterday. So, the first place you looked was Bucky's bookshelf, nothing. Coffee table, nothing. Desk, nothing. Setting your eyes on the couch you removed the two small couch cushions and curled your lips at the amount of crumbs and debris under the seats. You and Bucky were disgusting slobs. You vowed to vacuum and clean his room soon, but still not finding your wallet. Next stop was the bed. You noticed he didn't have any sheets on his bed, only his dark blue comforter and the Supernatural blanket you got him for his birthday last year, along with his usual pillows. Shaking out the blankets you found no evidence of your wallet. Nothing in the pillowcases. Not that they would be, but you were being thorough. You threw his blankets and pillows back in the bed and opted to get on your hands and knees to look under his bed. You shuttered at the thought of what you might find. Boys could be so gross.

Not having much light, you got up off the floor, using the bed to balance you, and went and grabbed your phone to use the flashlight app. Getting back down on your hands and knees you brought your phone out to shine some light into the darkened spaces under the bed. Not seeing much luck, you went around to the other side and did the same, having to reach further down than before due to the fact you found Bucky's crumpled sheets, sliding them towards you to see if your wallet was somehow lost within them.

With the last remnants of his illicit dream about y/n, he woke with a start, gasping for air, his chest heaving, heart pounding against his chest, as his body shook with the release, he had found in his sleep...covering the inside of his briefs. After a few seconds, he leaned back, catching his breath, calming his nerves.

What the fuck he thought to himself. He never had wet dreams before. Especially not about y/n. He was angry. He didn't understand why this was happening seemingly out of nowhere. Frustrated at his lack of control over his imagination and libido, he sighed as he got out of bed and saw his sheets were soaked with sweat and the end result of his fantasies, tearing them from the mattress and shoving them under the bed with a huff. He needed a shower. Badly. Between the mess he made before the video chat with y/n and waking up as he climaxed, he felt dirty. In more ways than one.

He walked to the window, finding himself opening the curtains a tiny bit to look at the closed curtains of y/n's window, not even a stone's throw away. The distance between their windows was almost nonexistent, the alley between their houses barely wide enough to fit a lawnmower through.

He cursed himself, walking away from the window, shaking his head, to go take a shower. He figured y/n was still asleep, she said she wanted to sleep in. He was thankful, too many times to count he's woken up to her in his room either eating breakfast on the sofa, crawling into his bed to tickle him awake, or jumping on his bed. He didn't know what he'd do if she did the same with what happened this morning. He was disgusted with himself. He felt like he violated her. Their friendship.

He dragged himself to the shower, his actions on autopilot as his mind was too occupied with sadness, heartbreak, anger at himself for his behavior. He felt an emptiness in his chest at the fact he was having these thoughts, a heaviness in the pit of his stomach that made him sick knowing he pleasured himself while thinking of the one person who's always had his back, been by his side, lifted him from the depths of his self-induced demons. Y/n was the one constant in his life that never changed. And he was saddened at the notion of their friendship changing or ending because of his stupid stupid self.

Turning off the water, he shook a towel over his hair to dry it quickly before wrapping it loosely around his waist and heading to his room to get dressed and ready to leave. Upon entering his room, seeing the scene in front of him he froze and immediately had to clutch the towel in his hands to keep it on him. Taken aback by the image of her on her knees and elbows, everything was an display in vivid detail as her skirt no longer covered her most intimate areas and her leggings were skin tight. She was kneeling on the floor, looking under his bed and using her phone as a flashlight. He panicked when he realized she was now reaching for the sheets he ripped off in anger.

He swallowed hard. "Y/n....what are you doing?" His voice gravelly and deep. He cleared his throat.

Startled, she cried out and jumped, only to hit her head on the bedframe. Seething, she cradling her head she sat back on her knees, rocking back and forth.

"Shit...are you okay?" He asked, rushing to her aide but stopped in his tracks once she finally looked his way. Still kneeling on the floor, sitting on her legs she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as she noticed his hair was wet, dripping onto his bare chest and abdomen. Her eyes followed a drop of water as it fell from above his eyes and landed on his shoulder, slowly making its way down his pecs and onto the washboard that was his stomach, her lips parting as it reached his hips and following the well-defined v that extended under the towel. Seeing the end of the journey her eyes lingered there, biting her lip at seeing his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping the towel. Both of them staring at each other, heart pounding against their chests, pulse racing against their skin.

Seeing Bucky without a shirt on was not something new for you. You'd seen it more times than you could count. You could remember when you first noticed he was gaining muscles, replacing the soft leanness of youth after beginning regular training and workouts for football.

But seeing him dripping wet in just a towel now, you found yourself quickly forgetting about the pain on your head as you became jealous of the water droplet edging its way down his taut body.

You couldn't help but silently whine and bite your lip, seeing his large hand, clutching onto the towel with white knuckles.

Not realizing your body was moving of its own volition, you found yourself closing the tiny distance between you, still on your knees in front of him, looking up at him. Close enough you could feel the heat rolling off his body from the shower. His eyes followed you, pinning you in place as he searched yours for something.

His phone started ringing. But his eyes never left yours. When his phone rang again he was taken from his daze, hanging his head and closing his eyes as he sighed. He stepped around you to go answer it.

"What do you want Steve?"

Not hearing the other end, you quickly realized the position you were in. Heat rising to your cheeks you used the bed as leverage to stand up slowly. Your knees stinging. You brushed your hands over your outfit while he ended the call, turning to look at you.

"I thought you left already...I...I was looking for my wallet." You fumbled over your words as you tried to explain your presence in his room. Looking down sheepishly at your hands as you twisted your fingers in your hands nervously. "I checked everywhere else but the bed...I...I thought maybe it had gotten lost in your sheets or something." You finished.

He said nothing for a moment, only looking at you in a way that made you squirm. "That was Steve, coach wants us at the field in 45 minutes to go over some last-minute plays." He sighed as he closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. Opening them to see you fidgeting in place, arms locked downwards playing with your hands.

His tongue darted over his bottom lip then biting it in a smirk as he sauntered over to you. Stopping when he was shoulder to shoulder with you, facing opposite directions. He leaned down and to the side, so close to you that you felt his breath on the side of your neck. "You're welcome to stay doll...but I gotta get dressed...choice is yours." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. You shuddered as you felt the pronunciations of his words there, behind your ear. He leaned into you, ghosting his nose over the shell of your ear.

You stepped away, almost jumped away from him. Not even looking in his direction as you grabbed your purse from the couch and left without a word.

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#fanfic #a/u bucky x reader #teen bucky and reader #pinning #bucky x reader #im new to this #eventual canon #slow burn #friends to lovers

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jjba-hell · 3 years

Text

Respite

Day 1 of LaSquadraweek2021 and the prompt was Fantasy AU.

No trigger warnings: maybe a mentioning of nudity and the awkward moments that come from that. Maybe some suggestive actions but not going into it.

Content-wise: you’re looking at Fantasy AU, you and Risotto know one another, both being Dark Elven-ish creatures. It’s essentially an OOC Risotto x reader

I just wanted to have some fun with it. Enjoy. @lasquadraweek2021

“Quite the team you have assembled, Mr Nero.”

Risotto, knelt down at a hot spring half naked, paused his actions- hand remaining in the warm water as he gazed ahead at the mossy stone before him. It was an enclosed area- a little private spot he’d only considered his own until you came invading it.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again- not after what had happened in Graizia.”

He pushed off of his knee, standing up straight and surveying where exactly you were. It was him that taught you how to cloak yourself in shadows to disappear from sight- to you, this was a case of student needing to outwit teacher. You were silent enough to fool most people but Risotto knew what to look for.

The moss under your feet was slippery as you crawled up one of the stones he was gazing at not long ago. He gave a low laugh as he searched his surroundings regardless.

“Should I take your silence as anger.”

You sat down on your haunches as you reached a high enough point on the rocks to confuse him. “Oh please, Graizia was tame in comparison to Crallutha.”

Risotto’s ears wanted to lead his gaze to where you were but you weren’t planning on playing this game too long. So you removed your coat- and the spell- from your shoulders.

“Ahh of course- how much was the witch’s bill for taking care of that nasty burn?”

You threw your balled up overcoat at him, reappearing just in time for your gazes to meet. “Too much for your little adventures to afford.”

He took hold of the neck of your coat to unfurl it. “Touchy.” He commented as he laid your coat on top of his and then shamelessly ridding himself of his trousers before slipping into the hot water with a heavy sigh. His head dipped under so he could wet the long silver strands and wipe them out of his face with a groan.

You and Risotto have known each other for a very long time- you both have vague memories of the fall of the kingdom you hail from and for a long time you returned to the same abandoned cabin after working odd jobs to get by until you both turned about 100- just out of juvenile for your species.

You went your separate ways after one of your plots worked too well and you became a diplomat for the kingdom you’d been refugees in. Didn’t quite seem like he ever forgave you after you altered away the tell-tale tear streaks of your species under your eyes for the sake of human relations. Not that it was permanent anyway.

He still sported them proudly of course- his ink black eyes and the black streaks over his face melding together quite well- in your mind it made him handsome (perhaps that was the remnants of your memories of the Old Kingdom) but to most he was a terrifying sight. Not that his excessive height helped either.

“Now either you’re here for revenge or you have information to sell.”

“Revenge against you?” You mused, laughing at the thought. “Just because I nipped that slit in your eyebrow a few months ago doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”

“Just maimed.”

“Exactly.”

Your feet had carried you back down from the rocks and at the lip of the spring where the warm water was lapping gently at your toes. Eyes followed naturally toward the sky to bask in the bright beauty of the moon until you were abruptly pulled onto your ass in the water by a firm hand around your ankle.

“Nero!” You screeched as you propped yourself up- gesturing at all the leather he had now fully soaked. “Do you know how long this is going to take to dry?”

“You’ll dry as you ride.” He said so nonchalantly you could feel those streaks under your eyes reappear. You never were good at controlling your magic when you were angry.

“There you are.” He hummed contently. “I so tire of that ghastly mask you put on for the humans.” To emphasize your point his arms came to rest on a half submerged mossy stone.

“And what would you do with me this way? Soaking wet and bare of magic?”

“Well... much comes to mind.”

That was it. You stripped out of your soaked clothes, leaping after the bastard who had already sunk underneath the water’s surface and was making quick work of gliding through the water into the caverns you knew the mermaids once used to get around this arduous stretch of land.

He was quick- always had been. You supposed all of that muscle had to be built somewhere but you weren’t that far behind him- the inky black lines that lined his body and darkened at the tips of his fingers and feet were all you could focus on as the two of you kicked off the walls in rush to who knows where.

The slight burn in your lungs only fueled you to catch up to him even more and you had only thought his abrupt loss of speed was the end of his game until you saw fiery tones dance above the water.

Breaking the surface, you both gasped for air- one strong breath in followed by little gasps to even out your breathing.

“Determined, aren’t we?” He chuckled.

Not so reluctantly you latched onto his nearest arm and dunked his head under before using him to push off and find a ledge to sit on.

A part of you wanted to continue the banter but the exhaustion was starting to set into your bones- both from chasing him on land and in water.

Perhaps he was dissatisfied but your silence only beckoned him closer to lean his folded arms on the ledge you were seated on- his brow knit together in concern. “They weigh heavy on you. All those strings tied around your hands.”

You looked over at him, gaze locking with the reds of his eyes that held a type of softness you suppose only you could read. “Maybe.”

Around you the little cavern had only two torches alight- a trick you wondered if he had any hand in. You didn’t want to speak much on the subject- you were too far gone in your own games wit the humans to realize you could simply disappear from it. Your skin cooled slightly as you stared at the flames wrapped around the torches- cooled enough for the warmth of Risotto’s hand to make you flinch when he touched your thigh.

“The cold will settle into your bones.”

Whether he meant figuratively or literally you’d probably never know but you took him up on both.

He moved back enough for you to slide back into the water- feeling pleasantly enveloped by the feeling. Underneath you, you could feel your feet barely graze on some stones that Risotto stood on easily.

“Surely, my touch doesn’t repel you as much as much as you’d have me believe.”

It had been so painfully long since you let him this close, your arms finding their way around his offering shoulders. You let yourself tangle around him- the added heat off his skin lulling you to prop your chin onto his shoulder.

Risotto reciprocated with his big arms wrapping around your back, soothing the knots out with a flat palm rubbing up and down your spine.

Complicated was the cliché word that came to mind when you thought of Risotto. You’d helped him along many steps to slip away from any trouble his bounties and adventures brought him, you were also the source of all the information he could need about new political decrees or wars that might affect his plans but much like before you were separated- you were far too close to simply forget one another as your paths diverged.

“I’ve missed you.” You sigh into his neck, raking your nails over his back to see if you could still get a reaction out of him.

He groaned out your name as his whole body seemed to tense under your ministrations. It sounded foreign on his tongue but welcome nonetheless.

It didn’t take too long for him have your back pressed against stone and his teeth worrying into your neck hungrily.

“Stay with me.” He groaned, pressing you tighter to him. “Please. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”

Hearing him plead truly had your resolve weak but you couldn’t. You needed to have your heart on the pulse of information if you were to protect him- but would he need to be protected if you two weren’t separated?

He didn’t even need to argue you into contemplating it, the soft thrum of his body luring you to turn your head onto his shoulder and just say yes. But that’s not what you said.

“I can’t.”

The words stuck like sap onto your tongue.

“Three days then.”

“Three days what?”

“Three days you stay with us, surely you could manage that. After that, you’re free to do as you wish.”

He wasn’t lying- it would be easy enough to simply lie about a sudden illness or delay in travel plans. Perhaps you should see it as designated time off- wrapping yourself up in the warm embrace of an old lover.

“Fine.” You whisper against the lobe of his ear before kissing the side of his face.

Risotto on the other hand separated with you a little so he could hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger to give you a kiss so tender you could melt.

“It’s almost dawn.” He muttered against your lips after you separated, resting your forehead against his.

“How can you tell?”

He gestured to a small stained glass oval inlaid between the jagged edged of the cave’s wall. You must have missed it while it was still dark. “Best to head back then.”

You wish you were a person without regrets- that you didn’t ponder how things could have been different but you were and few mistakes felt as dire as when you resurfaced back at the spring near Risotto’s camp.

Hoping for a dignified entrance was out of the question as you resurfaced behind Risotto’s large form to be greeted with quiet talk and snickers from a team of men you’d only been acquainted with from afar.

Often cases modesty was a virtue but not when dealing with outcasts like them. So before Risotto could order them to turn around, you were moving towards the place where your coat lay on top of Risotto’s- gods they must have had a field day with that innuendo.

“I see we’ve never seen a naked body before.” You commented tiredly at the stares you could feel heating your neck.

“More like we haven’t seen two Khallini’s this close in proximity of one another. You’re a dying breed, you know.”

You disregard the comment somewhat as you pick up your coat- the one dry thing you still have to your name and sling it over your shoulders against the cold.

“Might also be the insinuation.” The long-haired brunette was the one to throw that comment- enough to lock gazes with him across the clearing.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” You ask with a tilt of your head and the sneer you got in return was enough to satisfy you and earn a chuckle from the rest of the team.

Risotto was behind you not long after- throwing his shirt over his head. “We’ll meet up at the tavern in Cranad.”

Which of course was your queue to find your horse to reintroduce yourself to the bunch at the tavern.

But as you stood at your saddle to slip on an emergency pair of clothes you couldn’t help but think.

What did you get yourself into?

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #fantasy AU #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #lasquadraweek2021

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